Chapter 12
For what felt like an eternity, Isabelle stared at Chance while he stood there frozen, staring at her. Beside her, Zeke was still bragging about how he was texting shit about her back to his friends, so he didn’t see when she slowly shook her head.
Chance’s eyes darted from her to Zeke and then back again. Her world swayed when Chance’s eyes slowly dipped to her swollen lip and smashed nose. She watched as red crept up his throat to land in his cheeks. His eyes went hard as his jaw clenched, and his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. She knew he was going to ignore her warning. She prayed he did.
***
Chance hadn’t slept all night. Like a dickweed, he’d climbed into his bed without changing the sheets so he could be near Isabelle’s scent. That had resulted in him jerking himself off and then tossing and turning all night as his wolverine growled and scratched at him while he wondered how she was doing and whether she was thinking of him. When morning came he busied himself with shoveling more snow, and when that hadn’t worked to distract him, he’d shifted and gone hunting. He’d let three deer go, and one mountain lion because he hadn’t had much of an appetite, but once he’d gotten home, showered and stripped his bed, he knew he needed to hit the Laundromat in Big Sandy.
He’d been heading that way when he’d opted to stop at Tracy’s diner for a quick bite seeing as how he hadn’t eaten since his last meal with Isabelle.
Like a whiny douche, he’d ordered tomato soup and grilled cheese, which currently sat in his belly like a lump. Before paying he used the restroom to wash the butter from his hands, and then he’d shuffled out to pay.
Eating hadn’t helped. He still missed Isabelle and was already formulating a plan to go to Ruby’s today to see her. He’d scoured his cabin, hoping she’d left something behind and had been elated to find her backpack tucked behind the bedroom door. It was all the excuse he’d needed, but honestly he was going to Aunt Ruby’s today to see Isabelle with or without an excuse.
At the register, Joyce beamed up at him. “How was everything, hon?”
The food was typically good here and he chalked his leaden meal up to his shitty attitude, so he said, “Everything was great, Joyce. Thanks again.” He liked Joyce, she was good people, mated to a local shifter who happened to be one of Chance’s closest friends.
He paid and shoved the change back at her for a tip, all the while thinking about Isabelle and her beautiful fucking eyes.
Turning, he was shoving his wallet into his back pocket when he slammed to a halt. Holy fucking hell! Is this real?
There she was. Isabelle! Only…something was…wrong. She was wearing these ginormous glasses she hadn’t had before, and she looked pale and shaky. Was she… Yeah! Even through the dark glasses he could see her looking at him. She was shaking her head, like she didn’t want him approaching her. His eyes sliced to the person she was sitting with. Jealousy reared up hard, because it was a guy. But then, his wheels finally started spinning and his eyes jerked back to her face. Her lips were swollen and split, her nose swollen and starting to bruise. He turned his gaze lower to the oversized, long-sleeved baggy shirt she was wearing, like she was hiding something. His gaze jerked back to the motherfucker beside her. Zeke!
One second he was planted at the cash register, and the next he had Zeke up and out of the booth before that fuck went sailing across the restaurant.
Isabelle gasped and Joyce screamed.
Stupid motherfucker Zeke scrambled up and shouted, “Oh you just made a mistake, boy.”
Boy? BOY! Chance charged, ducking the pathetic punch Zeke threw. In seconds, the bastard was on the ground where he belonged and Chance was straddling him, beating seven shades of shit out the fucker.
Behind him, Joyce shrieked, “Chance, I think you should stop.”
He didn’t, not even when old Barney sauntered over and chuckled, “I think you won, son.”
He couldn’t stop. Not now, not after seeing what he’d done to Isabelle’s face. Not after knowing what he’d see behind those glasses.
“Chance.”
His name, spoken so softly by her, stilled his fists in mid-blow. Zeke was unconscious now, had been for a minute, but he didn’t care. Turning, he looked up at Isabelle. She’d shucked her glasses, and he saw her eye was swollen nearly closed, bruising spread across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek. Her nose was beginning to swell as well, as if it had just recently received a vicious blow. He couldn’t stifle the growl that rattled his chest even if he’d wanted to.
“Aw, honey!” Joyce exclaimed. “He do that to you?”
Old Barney pursed his lips and shuffled out the door, saying as he left, “Ain’t none of my business. Didn’t see shit, Chance.”
Isabelle remained quiet as stared at Chance, her good eye filling with tears. When her legs buckled, Chance spun so fast he blurred, but he caught her before she hit the floor. He sat on top of Zeke as he pulled Isabelle into his arms, hugging her tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably in his arms. She was crying so damn hard that it clogged his throat with emotion. He swallowed it back, and when he did, it hit him.
Zeke’s scent was all over Isabelle, and she reeked of pain, terror, humiliation and despair. The kind of scent one got…
He started to shake, and he knew his wolverine was seconds away from taking his skin. Jamming his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and shoved them gently into Isabelle’s hand.
“Go to the truck. Lock yourself in.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and he bellowed, “Now, Isabelle! Please!”
She nodded woodenly and scrambled to her feet, racing out the door as quickly as her battered body could manage. He watched her go, his fury reaching new heights as he saw how badly she hobbled and swayed as she moved, the scent of her pain magnifying.
Zeke was just now coming around, and Chance was happy he’d be awake for what was about to happen. Grabbing the sack of shit’s collar, he dragged him through the restaurant. Joyce still stood behind the counter, eyes narrowed on Zeke as she shot daggers with her eyes.
“Joyce, call the sheriff,” Chance growled as he strode towards the back door.
Zeke laughed, coughed and then laughed again. “I am the law, you hillbilly hick. They can’t touch me.”
Chance stopped walking to turn his attention fully on Joyce. “Tell ‘em there’s been an animal attack. Tell ‘em someone’s dead.”
She nodded sharply. “Make it quick, Chance. You never know how close they are.” She knew what was about to happen, and from the look on her face she was all for it. Heck, if Joyce had been a shifter, he had no doubt she would be happy to join right in or do the deed herself.
Zeke started struggling in his hold, but his fight was futile. He had no hope of escaping a worked-up shifter, and once Chance cleared the back door and let his wolverine have his skin, Zeke started screaming like the little bitch he was.
Making a show of tromping through the snow around him, enough to leave proof that a wild animal was in fact the culprit, Chance grinned with all his razor-sharp teeth, huge canines gleaming in the fading light, furious pleasure flowing through him as Zeke pissed himself as he tried desperately to crawl away, tears streamed down his face in terror. Chance stalked him, enjoying the fact that Zeke was getting a small taste of the horrors he visited on Isabelle. Then the wolverine struck, ripping him to pieces in seconds. There was no regret, no second guessing. This fuck had forced himself on Isabelle, beaten her, and kidnapped her. From her scent, he’d done a whole lot more, and his wolverine wished Zeke had put up a better fight. He got what he deserved though, and Chance’s friends in Montana were all firm believers in vigilante justice. They didn’t still call it the Wild West for nothing.
Chance forced a shift to shuttle through him. His wolverine hadn’t wanted to give the man his skin back, but Chance needed to get to Isabelle. He rolled his neck as his shift pulsed with the finality of regenerating his clothing. He was bending to grab hands full of snow to wash the blood from his face and hands when he felt someone behind him. Jerking around, he was shocked to find Isabelle standing there, mouth wide and disbelief evident on her features as she stared from him to what was left of Zeke.
Fuck! He’d been so engrossed in ending that piece of shit that he hadn’t been aware of his surroundings. He didn’t know Isabelle had been watching.
“Isabelle?” Rising slowly, he held out his hands before dropping them just as quickly when he realized they were still covered in blood.
Isabelle turned away, dropping to her hands and knees to dry heave in the snow. Chance was to her in a flash, crooning, “Easy, baby. It’s alright. Everything’s gonna be alright.”
Turning she looked up at him, but her eyes weren’t the same. Her pupils were all blown out like she was in shock, and fear hit him hard. “Isabelle!”
She began shaking her head rapidly. “No! No, no, no!”
Aw, fuck! “Isabelle!” Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her once. She was about to have an epic fucking freak-out, and he didn’t know what to do.
Turning, she grabbed fists full of snow, lifting it to Chance’s face and rubbing. “Get it off!”
“What? Get what off?”
“Get it off!” she shrieked, dropping the snow to grab more.
“What, Belle? Get what off?”
“The blood!” She lunged forward, crushing snow onto his lips. “Cops are coming! Get it off! Can’t get caught! Can’t let them have you!”
His wolverine’s growl rattled his chest. Good mate! She was trying to protect him. After all she’d been through, after standing here in clear shock, she was protecting him!
Quickly, he did as she asked and cleaned up as best he could with the snow. When he rose, pulling her up with him, she jerked on his arm. “PHONE! We need his phone!”
He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. He knew it wouldn’t be a priority for the Sheriff to find once, and if, they realized it was missing, so he rushed to what was left of Zeke, rifled through his pockets and coming up empty. Turning he eyed Isabelle, “It’s not here!”
Her face crumpled, and he suddenly remembered. “He had it inside when I grabbed him.” Taking her hand, he led her back inside, finding the phone on the floor by the booth. He snatched it up and asked, “Is this it?”
Isabelle nodded and lunged for it, and he let her have it as he led her out the front door. He bundled her into the passenger seat, then rushed around the front of the truck, climbing quickly into the cab before hauling ass home.