Riding the Wolf Ch. 03

Rosita awoke with the scream held tightly behind her lips. It was her third night after the rape, and her second nightmare. She had thought it wouldn't come back, after her night with Marshal Jones. Rosita blushed, as she suddenly realized she had never asked for his first name. After making love to her, he had tucked her into bed and held her gently throughout the night. She had had no dreams, only healing slumber. She looked at the mattress beside her, the moonlight illuminating the empty sheets. Timidly, she got up, the long night dress slithering against her skin as it fell down to her knees. She peeked into her grandmother's living room and sighed with relief as she saw him, a silent sentinel, peering out the window. Knowing Jones was protecting her, she climbed back into bed, the dream forgotten, and fell back asleep.

The next morning, Rosita awoke to the smell of cinnamon. Going into the kitchen she found a pot of cinnamon oatmeal, still warm, and a note.

Checking the perimeter. I will return shortly.

Rosita sighed and scooped oatmeal into her bowl. As she licked the spoon, swallowing the sweet, mushy cereal, she thought about what to do now. Jones had warned her not to leave the cabin. The werewolf's threat to return was still looming over her head, and he told her he planned to stake out the house until the monster's arrival. While washing her bowl in the sink, Rosita came to a decision. She couldn't wait.

Her grandmother was already safe, under observation in the hospital because of her chemotherapy. Jones had mentioned that the werewolf had been to her apartment, and Gina had made the connection, realizing that her mother's new boyfriend must be the wolf. She thought of his eyes as he'd leered at her in the kitchen the first morning, then the eyes of the werewolf as it loomed over her. There was no doubt in her mind that they were the same.

Knowing Jones would be able to come after her well before she reached her home, she picked up the phone and dialed her mother's cell phone. It was much too early in the morning for Gina. Normally she would expect the phone to go to voicemail, but something told her that this morning, it wouldn't. She wasn't the least surprised when a sultry male voice answered.

"Gina's phone. Sorry she can't come to the phone right now. Is that you, chica?"

Rosita struggled to keep the anger and revulsion from her voice as she replied.

"Uh, yeah. It is. Hey, tell my mom that Abuela is in the hospital? I'm alone at her house, right now. I got a flat tire on my bike. I need her to pick me up."

Rosita could practically hear the wheels in the man's head as they whirred with this new information. He only paused a moment, however, before replying.

"I can come get you. Your mom's asleep."

Rosita leapt at the opening she was waiting for.

"Could you, really? I'm so glad. I don't want to be alone right now."

The man's chuckle was pure evil, and a shiver ran up Rosita's spine. She felt goose bumps on her arm as he promised to come down and get her as soon as possible. Hanging up the phone, Rosita took several deep breaths to steady herself. She didn't know when Hunter would be back. She expected him any minute, but his idea of perimeter might be larger than she thought.

Not wanting to be caught unawares, Rosita threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top then, slipping into her red poncho last, the comforting feel of the familiar material bolstering her nerves. Next she went into the pantry and pulled out her grandmother's shotgun. Unloading it, she looked at the shells laid out on the table with a frown. Werewolves were tough. She knew the stories. Supposedly you needed silver bullets. Abuela didn't have silver bullets. Staring at the large shells, Rosita suddenly had an idea. Going into her grandmother's bedroom, she opened her jewelry box and found what she was looking for: three heavy silver chains. Bringing the chains into the kitchen, she got a small paring knife and gently pulled the caps from the cartridges. Dumping the pellets into an empty cup, she began breaking the soft silver chain into pieces and filling the cartridges. Carefully, she pushed the caps back into the shell and loaded the gun.

Rosita's timing was perfect. She heard the distinct sounds of tires crunching on the gravel drive. She pumped the shotgun, and calmly walked to the door. She opened it just as Raoul was closing the door to the convertible. The wide, wicked grin on his face turned slack as she wasted no time, swinging the barrel towards his body and taking aim for his heart. Those eyes. She would never forget those eyes. Rosita was fast, but the wolf was faster, ducking just as she squeezed the trigger. Instead of hitting him square in the chest, the fast moving chains buried themselves into his shoulder. Rosita fired again, missing him entirely as Raoul shifted into his wolf, his clothes and shoes shredding from his furry body. While she was distracted trying to load the next two rounds, Raoul took the opportunity to lunge. She saw him coming and dropped the shells, swinging the barrel at his open jaws.

It probably wouldn't have stopped him at all except that in the moment before she made contact, a thundering roar shook the trees. The wolf's gaze left his prey for just long enough that the sudden thud of metal on flesh left him temporarily startled. Rosita was able to scramble back into the house and deadbolt the door. The werewolf's body crashed into it, the wood cracking against his weight. She waited for it to shatter, but instead, the whole cabin shuddered as the wolf's body was sent careening into a support stud for the porch roof, causing it to partially collapse. Peeking out the window, Rosita saw Marshal Jones's tiger quietly stalking towards the prone wolf, who was scrambling to untangle himself from the splinters of wood and roof tiles. The two collided in a thrashing of fur, claws and teeth, and Rosita had difficulty telling who was who as the two bodies zipped across the yard. Gathering her courage, Rosita loaded two more shells and unlocked the door, stepping out onto the porch.

She didn't have a clear shot. The tiger and the werewolf were locked together in fierce battle, both were covered with blood. Rosita couldn't even tell who was winning as the two circled each other with viscous snarls on their lips. Then she noticed the limp. The wolf's shoulder would give slightly as he padded over the ground. She could see that their wounds were all healing rapidly, and most were nothing more than bloodied, but otherwise unmarred fur. Raoul's shoulder was a different story. Instead of rapidly healing, it looked as if the shoulder she'd hit with the chains was rapidly festering. It was swollen and bleeding copiously. Jones was taking full advantage of the werewolf's weakness, clawing and scratching the wound whenever he had an opening. Raoul's howls of pain and rage were beginning to sound desperate.

Suddenly, Raoul was on top of Jones, his jaws clamped tightly against the tiger's throat while the tiger's frantic claws tried to pry the vice from his windpipe. Rosita knew she couldn't miss, and dashed forward, towards the struggling monsters, thrusting the shotgun between them and firing at the werewolf's chest at point blank range. The grunt of pain as Raoul's eyes widened in surprise was enough to give Jones's fingers a chance to slip between the massive jaws. He threw the wolf from his body as Rosita took aim a second time. She fired at the wolf, the chain pellets sinking into multiple points along his chest and stomach, and he howled in anger and fear. Scrambling to his feet, he turned tail and ran, limping into the forest, towards the mountains.

Hunter rushed to Rosita's side, admiring the rise and fall of her bosom as she panted, the gun still gripped firmly in her hands. He gently touched her face, tilting her chin to look up at him, trying to gauge if she was alright, or about to have a break down. Staring into her hard eyes, he smiled grimly, and she nodded in agreement. Hunter knew she would be fine, and loped off after the fleeing werewolf.

The tracks were easy enough to find, and he quickly caught up with Raoul. The werewolf had shifted into his human form and made a bee line for the road. Hunter scowled. The man would try to find some poor human to use for cover. Hunter would never attack him with a human present, and he knew it. Shifting into his human form as well, Hunter reached for the silver plated knife he had strapped to his leg with an elastic band. It was his secret weapon, and it always took the other were's by surprise. After the shift, he was left completely naked, and, they always supposed, helpless when among witnesses. However, Hunter had learned to be resourceful after his first quarry had tried to hide in plain sight. The naked man limping down the highway would certainly gain the sympathy of any approaching car, and Hunter knew that if he exposed any bystanders to his weretiger form, the local pack would hunt him down for potentially exposing their pack and putting them all in danger.

Hunter didn't like attacking a man who wasn't facing him, but he was running out of time and opportunity. Coming up behind the naked man, he slipped the silver knife between his ribs and pierced the heart. The wolf tried to howl in rage, but not a sound came from his parted lips. Then he slumped to the ground, the knife sizzling slightly as the werewolf blood reacted to the silver lining.

Before he could grab a hold of the corpse and pull it into the woods, he heard a motor and looked up to see a silver car fast approaching. Hunter winced. He wasn't prepared to kill a human today, but he also couldn't be report to the local police. Keeping his knife behind his back and out of sight, he crouched down next to the body and tried to look concerned. When the car stopped next to him, he suddenly recognized it. It was the werewolf's convertible. Then he heard Rosita's voice urging him to hurry.

"Let's go! There aren't a lot of people on this road, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here much longer."

Hunter nodded his agreement and grabbed the werewolf, heaving the body over his shoulders. He heard the pop of the trunk opening and went to the rear of the vehicle, dumping the man in his own trunk. Then he slipped into the back seat, his skin slapping against the leather interior. Rosita giggled nervously.

"He left the keys in his pants pocket. They fell out when it got ripped during his change. I grabbed you a spare shirt and sweatpants. They're in the bag. They're for a girl, but you might be able to squeeze into them."

Hunter felt around for the plastic bag that held a gray tee shirt and black track pants. Both materials were very stretchy and although they hugged his frame tightly, he was able to cover himself. Good thing, too, since they saw red and blue lights begin to flash behind them.

"Fuck."

Rosita didn't start slowing down. She was panicked. This was essentially a stolen vehicle, and they had a dead body in the trunk. She could hear Hunter growling in frustration as he let loose another string of curses.

"Pull over Rosita. We can't afford a high speed chase through the mountains."

"But what will we say?"

"When we stop, jump into the back seat. I'll get in the front and answer the cop."

Rosita nodded, her hands trembling as she slid into the dirt at the side of the road and then quickly vaulted into the back seat. Hunter was able to wiggle into the driver's seat before the cop had even opened his door. He quickly adjusted his seat and unlocked the door. Rolling the window down, he put on a bright smile and addressed the cop.

"How's your day going, officer?"

When the policeman leaned down to meet Hunter's gaze, Rosita swore she could see the hairs on the back of his neck raise. The low growl from the cop was not the answer they were expecting. The two faced off, growling at one another for a full minute before Rosita decided to clear her throat and end the macho staring contest. The cop's eyes darted to hers and he seemed genuinely startled to see her. Then his whole face seemed to sink as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He looked quite terrified of the tiny 5'2" girl sitting tensely on the leather seat.

"She's..."

"Human, yes."

"But..."

"Her family was attacked by the rogue. She assisted in my capture."

The cop's growl returned, but only in his voice as he spoke.

"Capture? He's still alive?"

"Ah, no. He is quite dead. You can check for yourself, if you like. He's in the trunk."

The cop simply grunted, then flicked his eyes to Rosita, his gaze no longer afraid, but still tense.

"You aren't allowed to leave witnesses, hunter."

Hunter stiffened, then realized the man was calling him by his occupation, not his name. Settling his sternest expression on his face, Hunter let his tiger's growl creep back into his voice.

"She will not be touched."

The officer looked a little surprised, then smug.

"We'll have to see what the Alpha says."

Hunter was so agitated, the pupils of his eyes turned to slits as he replied.

"She will notbe touched."

The cop returned the growl and motioned for Hunter to follow him. Hunter waited for the cruiser to pull in front of him, and grudgingly trailed the car up into the mountains. This was a disaster. The Alpha would see the human bystanders as a threat. A threat he was responsible for. Hunter had never been very good with responsibility, at least not in the long run. He'd always taken the quick fix, then moved on, leaving his problems behind. This time, however, he felt a strange compulsion to make things right. It probably had something to do with the young woman sitting behind him. She hadn't said a word once the cop pulled them over, and he knew she must be both terrified and confused. It was several minutes before Rosita was able to calm herself enough to voice her questions.

"That cop, he's a werewolf, isn't he?"

Hunter eyed Rosita warily. She was tense, gripping edges of the leather seats like they were a life line. He wasn't sure if she had been sitting in the front, if she might have simply made a run for it. He found himself embarrassingly glad that she couldn't reach a door.

"Yes. That was one of the Betas to the pack in this region. They're actually the ones who hired me to find the rogue werewolf. He's been causing problems for weeks now."

"Why did they hire you? Couldn't they have killed him themselves?"

Hunter nodded.

"If they wanted to risk the exposure of the entire pack, sure. But hiring a bounty hunter, someone they aren't responsible for, takes a lot of risk out of the equation. They aren't prepared to kill one of their own if he messes up and exposes himself. Me, they don't care too much. It's one of the reasons I ask for half my money up front. If they think I'm compromised, then I can bolt, and still have made something off the deal."

Rosita was silent for a long time.

"Where are we going?"

Hunter licked his lips nervously. They were going into the pack's den, probably the most dangerous place in the state for a lone tiger and a human to be. He didn't want to worry her even more than she already was, but it wouldn't do any good to lie either.

"We're going to meet the pack's Alpha. As I said, one of the reasons they hired me was to keep human involvement to a minimum. The pack doesn't like it when humans know about them."

"So what happens when we meet him?"

Hunter took so long to answer, Rosita was sure he wouldn't. At least fifty different ideas were bouncing in her mind, each one worse than the last. She worried about her grandmother, her mother, would they be punished also?

"Most of the time a pack will try to turn any humans who have discovered them. That way, the person shares the risk to the pack if they tell. However, exceptions have been made in the past. I'm sure I can get the pack Alpha to see reason. You and your family are no threat to them. I'll make them understand that."

Rosita was surprised by the determination in his voice. Hunter hadn't known her for very long, and yet, his resolve to protect her was profound. She felt like crying with gratitude, but instead, leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders, caressing the stiff muscles, her hands sliding down to his chest, nearly in an embrace. He shuddered at her touch, leaning into her caress when one hand cupped his cheek.

"Thank you, Marshal Jones."

The whispered gratitude completely undid him. Any chance that he would have backed out and thrown her and hers to the wolves, literally, as an act of self preservation vanished. He'd left everything and everyone behind too many times. This time, he would stand and fight.

"Hunter."

Her hands stilled their stroking.

"What?"

"My first name, it's Hunter."

Her soft voice whispered his name, trying it out against her tongue. He suddenly had a vision of himself, pounding into her supple body as she screamed his name in passion. He vowed that if they lived through this, he would see that fantasy come true.

They followed the car in silence the rest of the way. When they were deep into the mountain preserve, having passed through two gates, the tree line suddenly disappeared and they were on a long driveway that led to a sprawling ranch. The building looked like it had had many additions over the years, making it larger and larger until it almost resembled a small apartment complex. The cruiser parked in a dirt field with several other vehicles, and Hunter did the same. He climbed out and pushed the seat back, holding his hand out to Rosita. She took his hand quick enough, but he nearly had to drag her from the car. Hunter spared a brief moment to pull her in a tight embrace, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

"I will protect you. I promise."

He felt her shoulders relax slightly, but when her chin tilted up to meet his gaze, he wasn't able to read the tense expression on her face. Shaking a rather ominous feeling, he held her hand again, and the two of them walked towards the ranch, following the werewolf officer who had barely spared them a second glance.

Rosita gripped Hunter's fingers tightly, trying to decide how to play this. It would be so easy to just let Hunter keep his promise to protect her and her family. She had no doubts that he would try, but one weretiger against a whole pack of werewolves, it wasn't a fair fight. She had little to offer in the way of helping him. The shotgun and its silver chain filled shells were both in the backseat, but when she moved to take them with her, Hunter shook his head. It looked like fighting would be a last resort, and he intended to keep her out of it entirely. Rosita didn't like that. She wanted to be part of defending her family, and surprisingly, defending him as well. He promised to save her, but at what cost? Did she expect him to die for her? Could she accept that? Rosita didn't think she could. Hunter had given her something that no other man in her life ever had: honesty. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. He was reliable. It didn't matter that she had known him a total of two days, he was already the best man she'd ever met. She could trust him to protect her, and more, she could trust him not to hurt her. Regardless of whether she would ever see him again after this was all over, she would not allow the world to lose such a man.

The cop left the front door open, so they simply walked right in. The front room seemed to be a lounge area, decorated in light wood paneling deep hunter green paint. Several lanky young men were all draped over worn leather furniture in front of a huge flat screen, watching a soccer game. A few others were playing darts or pool, and one beefy redhead was actually twirling the cord of an old phone in his fingers while chatting, a goofy smile on his lips. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and glared at the two interlopers to their den. Hunter met their challenging gazes with a hard, but indirect stare. He didn't directly meet the gazes of the men, but he wouldn't look at the floor either. It seemed pretty obvious, he didn't want to return their challenge, but he wasn't going to back down either. Rosita wasn't as brave, she kept her gaze firmly rooted on a spot on the floor where she could just make out the rest of the room with her peripheral vision. She wasn't going to let her guard down completely, but she couldn't stand to see those feral, glowing eyes.