Karen Whiddon - Finding The Texas Wolf

He had no idea what kind of danger he’d placed himself in. A human, trying to gain entrance to Broken Chains? Now she understood. A couple of the bouncers must have taken exception to him pestering them. In light of that, he was lucky he’d only been beaten rather than killed.

“You need to go somewhere else.” She didn’t even bother to try to hide the urgency in her voice. “It’s not safe here for you. Go away and forget you ever saw this door.”

Judging from the way he perked up, her heartfelt warning only made him more determined to stay. She eyed him—as far as human males went, he looked tough, with his broad shoulders and muscular build. But even the most fit human had no hope of fighting back against a Shape-shifter or Vamp. Both had power reserves of at least ten times those of any human.

Which explained why this guy’s swollen face made his features unrecognizable.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He crossed his arms, exposing purpling bruises and several small cuts that still oozed blood. In addition to the split lip and black eye, and judging from the multiple bruises and swelling, he’d been pummeled. Again, lucky to be alive, even if he didn’t get that. “My name is Jake Cassel. I’m an investigative reporter.”

“You can barely stand,” she pointed out. “I’d think you’d want to get yourself some medical assistance.”

“Good idea. I’ll dial 911 and when the paramedics arrive, I’ll ask for them to also send cops. I’m sure they can find out what’s behind that door.”

Exactly the situation she hoped to avoid.

“It’s not safe for you here,” she reiterated. “How about I walk you to my car and drive you to the ER?”

Her offer appeared to confuse him. “What? Why? You don’t know me. What if I turn out to be a predator? You’ll be alone with me.”

Of course she had no answer for that. She wasn’t about to tell him that as a full-blooded Shifter she knew she’d be safe. “I’ll be fine,” she finally replied. “I might even be willing to tell you what I know of that door.”

That finally got his attention. “Seriously?”

“You sound skeptical. I don’t blame you.” Somehow, she managed to keep herself from glancing at the still-closed door. “But I should also let you know that I expect those guys to come back at any moment.” And she did. “If they attack you again, which they will if they find you still here, they’ll kill you this time.”

While she had no idea if he believed her or not, he shuffled forward. “Give me your word,” he demanded. “Give me your word that you’ll tell me the truth about that door.”

“I’m Maddie Kinslow. You have my word.” And she would tell him. Because one thing she’d learned was to be very specific when relaying what one wanted. This human had asked for information about one item only—the door. She knew where it had come from, when it was installed, what kind of wood it had been made of and how often it was painted.

And a careful reciting of those facts was exactly what he’d get.

Driving as fast as she could without breaking the speed limit, Maddie soon pulled up in front of the ER at UTMB Health John Sealy Hospital. Despite his best efforts to remain alert, her passenger lost consciousness before they arrived. Well aware of how these human hospitals worked, she hoped Jake Cassel had his ID and an insurance card on him.

After leaving him in the car, she rushed inside and up to the triage window. “I found a man beaten on the sidewalk,” she said. “He wouldn’t let me call for an ambulance, but he allowed me to drive him here. He’s outside in my car, now unconscious. I need help getting him inside.”

If she expected a medical team to jump into action like they did on TV, she was wrong. The nurse simply nodded and told her she’d send someone out with a wheelchair in just a moment.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity but was in fact four minutes, an orderly appeared with a wheelchair. She led the way out the double doors to where she’d left her car parked, with the injured human in the front seat.

But the front seat was empty.

Cursing under her breath, she spun around. “He couldn’t have gone far,” she promised. “He was pretty beat up. And he lost consciousness on the way here.”

The orderly squinted at her. “Okay,” he said. “Come and get me when you find him.” And he turned to head back into the hospital.

He had a point. There really wasn’t anywhere to hide. The helipad sat behind a metal rail, and the tall palm trees dotting the landscape didn’t provide much in the way of shelter.

“Wait,” she ordered, stopping the orderly in his tracks. “The man can barely walk. I was inside for under five minutes. He really can’t have gone far.”

“Is that him?” He pointed to the covered bus stop near the road.

A lone figure sat on the bench. A quick calculation revealed that maybe, just maybe, Jake Cassel could have made it to there.

“I think so,” she said, letting her excitement show in her voice. “He’s wearing the same color shirt. Come on, help me go get him.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” The orderly appeared apologetic. “I’m not allowed to leave the ER grounds.”

Of course he wasn’t. The way this day was going, she’d begun to wish she’d never set eyes on the beat-up human. “May I borrow the wheelchair?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Clearly wavering, he looked uncomfortable. “I’ll get in trouble if you steal it.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I just need to retrieve that patient.”

“I think you might be too late,” he said, pointing. “The bus is coming. Your guy might not be able to walk too well, but he apparently doesn’t want to go to the ER. I’m guessing he’s getting on the bus.”

Calculating, she knew even if she started running, she’d never make it in time. Instead, she watched as the bus pulled up and as Jake, doubled over in pain, managed to climb on board.

Cursing, she turned and sprinted back to her car instead. She knew the bus would continue down Avenue D to 22nd Street, where he’d have to get off and switch buses or ride back to the hospital. She planned to be there either way.

Because what he’d done didn’t make sense. Jake Cassel had been severely beaten. He needed X-rays and possibly stitches, definitely pain meds. He wouldn’t have fled unless he had something to hide.

And Maddie had never been able to resist uncovering the answer to a good puzzle. The trait was what made her such a doggedly good PI.

She managed to catch up to the bus after its first stop. She watched as the two elderly women who’d gotten off slowly crossed the street.

Next up would be the 9th Street stop. The bus slowed, but continued on. It made several more stops, but he didn’t disembark. Finally, at 22nd Street, it turned into the new downtown terminal. Her heart sank. If he got off in a crowd, she’d never be able to tell if he got on a different bus. She could only hope his slow and painful movements would help her locate him.

As she drove past the terminal entrance, her luck held. There. Jake. Arms still wrapped around what had to be an aching middle, he shuffled down the sidewalk as the bus rumbled off.

Where could he be headed? If he’d driven to Broken Chains and parked, his car was in the opposite direction. It would have been much easier to reach from the hospital. Perhaps he had friends in this area or, even better, lived nearby himself.

Instead of immediately confronting him, she decided to follow him and see where he went. She hoped his destination would give her some answers.

She got caught at a streetlight. While she waited, she kept her eyes on him, aware that at his pace he wouldn’t be able to get too far ahead of her. There were only two cars coming from the cross street. One continued past, but the second—an older model black Lincoln with dark, tinted windows—pulled up alongside him.