Rhyannon Byrd - Dark Wolf Returning

“Then maybe over a beer sometime,” she relented, finding his boyish charm kind of endearing. He was like a big freaking teddy bear, once you got past the serious sex appeal. “But not in the middle of a fight.”

Before either male could say another word, the gunfire abruptly ended, and Eli was suddenly standing right in front of her. His face and arms were spattered with blood, his shirt and hair damp with sweat, while all those acres of hard muscle flexed beneath his skin as he breathed in a harsh rhythm. And the expression on his face was as darkly furious as his tone. “What the fuck, Carla? Did you or did you not hear me tell you to stay out of it?”

“Oh, I heard you,” she murmured, trying to ignore the fire in her side. “I just don’t take orders from you.”

His nostrils flared, and he fisted his massive hands at his sides. “If you had, then you wouldn’t be bleeding.”

“Shit! She got shot?” Kyle moved to get a better look at her, and his eyes went wide when he saw her blood-soaked left side. “Damn it, woman. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m fine. It’s just a graze.” She lifted her brows when she looked at Eli. “And I didn’t know you found the sight of a little blood so upsetting.”

One of the mercs choked off a laugh, though she couldn’t tell which one. She was too busy keeping a careful eye on Eli, since he looked like he wanted to throttle her.

“Come on,” he finally muttered, gripping her right arm and dragging her with him as he headed toward those massive black trucks that sat on the far side of the lot.

“Wait, I need my car!” she yelled, looking toward the little VW she’d picked up for almost nothing the week before. It looked a little sad, but damn it, that car had character. She couldn’t just leave it there all by its lonesome to turn into a rust bucket.

Eli flicked a dismissive look over the car. “That piece of shit stays here.”

“Oh, no, it doesn’t!”

“It’s not even yours,” he argued, obviously noticing the Georgia plates.

“Is too!” she shot back, wishing he wouldn’t walk quite so fast, since her head was starting to get a bit woozy. “I bought it off a guy in Atlanta last week for a hundred bucks.”

He stopped and gave her a look that set her teeth on edge, as if he thought she’d gone out of her mind. “You bought a stolen car off some random guy?”

She clenched her teeth, having already figured that part out for herself. No way the human would have sold it to her for that amount if the transaction had been legit. He’d probably just been looking for some quick money to pay for his next fix. And it’s not like they’d dealt with any of the legal paperwork. She’d just needed to ditch the car she’d stolen off the Whiteclaw and find something a little more fuel efficient, since it’d become apparent that tracking down her so-called “other half” was going to take more time than she’d hoped.

So, yeah, the car was most likely hot. But she’d still paid money for it!

“What if I take the keys inside and leave a note to let them know she’s up for grabs?” James offered, speaking up for the first time since they’d come outside.

“Fine,” she muttered, figuring it was better than nothing. “But please get my bag out of the trunk first.”

James nodded as he took the keys she’d dug out of her pocket, the pain in her side burning like holy hell as she moved. But she refused to groan, not wanting to give Eli the satisfaction. Instead, she glared at him as he pulled a set of keys from his own pocket.

“Are you even sober enough to drive?” she asked with a scowl.

He wasn’t looking at her, but she could swear he was rolling his eyes at the question. “We’re not human, Rey. It would take a hell of a lot more than what any of us have had tonight to put us over the limit.” Then, in a lower voice, he muttered, “And you should know I wouldn’t put you at risk like that.”

Five minutes later, she was sitting in the front seat of one truck, one of the guy’s T-shirts balled up and pressed against her side, while Eli drove and Lev and Sam sat in the spacious backseat. Kyle and James had piled into the other truck, along with everyone’s gear. Since Eli refused to stay in the town they’d just been attacked in, in case this Varga guy decided to send more men after them, they had to drive for nearly an hour before they found a cheap roadside motel that had enough rooms for them all. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been paying close enough attention when they were checking in, the blood loss making her a little dizzy, because it wasn’t until the keys were handed out that she realized they were one key short.

Which meant they had five rooms, instead of six.

Son of a freaking bitch!

“Eli,” she started to growl, before stumbling and nearly face planting against the cracked concrete walkway that led to the rooms. Damn it! Her lack of decent sleep the last two weeks, combined with the stress of finally facing Eli again, not to mention the blood loss, was getting to her. She was thankful the other Runners weren’t there to see her like this. They never would have let her live it down.

Kyle had grabbed her before she collapsed, his hold careful, as if he was afraid of hurting her. Did she really seem that fragile? “I think one of us should carry her,” he said, glancing at the others over the top of her head. “She’s looking a little pale.”

“I’ve got her,” Eli grunted, his heavy arm wrapping around her shoulders as he pulled her out of Kyle’s hands and jerked her against his side.

“I don’t know, boss man. You sure you don’t need any help?” Kyle asked from behind them, sounding both concerned and like he was trying not to laugh his ass off. She wasn’t sure what he found so freaking funny, but if it turned out to have anything to do with her, she was going to kick him. Hard.

“Kyle?” Eli muttered, as he opened the door to one of the rooms and all but shoved her inside.

“Yeah?” Kyle asked from the sidewalk.

“Piss off.” Eli slammed the door in the merc’s smirking face, then turned around and shoved a hand through his hair, his narrow gaze immediately connecting with hers. Carla had sat down on the foot of one of the beds, her left side now completely covered in blood. She’d felt a wave of relief when she’d seen that there were two beds in the room—but the look on Eli’s face as he pinned her under his dark glare completely shredded it. He still looked like he wanted to throttle her, but there was something even darker than anger in his unusual eyes, and it had her pulse kicking up. She wasn’t afraid of him, but that hungry, visceral look made her nervous as hell.

Needing a distraction, she said, “I could have paid for my own room, you know.”

His response was dry. “My mistake. I wasn’t aware you’d be flush with cash after escaping from a kidnapping.”

She lifted her chin. “I didn’t run empty-handed. I stole a wad of cash off the Whiteclaw. There’s still enough left to pay for my rooms and my meals on our way back.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it covered,” he murmured, slipping two packs she hadn’t even noticed he was carrying off his shoulder. She was glad to see that one of the bags was hers. The blood on her skin was starting to get sticky, and she was trying to work up the energy to head to the shower so she could clean it off, when he set his bag down on the desk, opened it up, and pulled out a first-aid kit. He came over to the bed she was sitting on and started taking things out of the kit—antiseptic wipes and some ointment—setting them on the comforter.

Carla knew she should object when he grabbed the chair in front of the desk and dragged it over, sat down, then took a pair of scissors from the kit and started cutting her ruined shirt off. But she just couldn’t find the energy. If he wanted to help her, fine. It didn’t mean anything, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to lead to anything.