Chapter 28
Hank
Ace and I prowl the jam-packed parking area behind the venue. We picked up Ryder’s trail on the other side of the building, but we have yet to lay eyes on him. My beast, angry to be held back for so long, is clawing its way to the surface, but I fight against the pending change. It’s too soon for his appearance. Once Ryder shows his ugly-ass face, then we strike.
“You sure he’s out here?” I ask. My beast is distracting me. I can’t focus long enough to sense anything.
My new companion, or maybe he’s more like my partner, sniffs the air and makes a face. “I’m sure. The air reeks of his foulness. Motherfucker needs a goddamned bath.”
I stifle the laugh threatening to explode. For once, I’m thankful my nose isn’t as sensitive as a wolf’s. Ryder’s one of those old-school cats who doesn’t believe in regular bathing. A dip in the pool simply doesn’t replace soap and water. I shudder at the thought. Getting rid of Elijah Ryder won’t just be good for the Falls Creek Police Department. It might be considered my contribution to cleaning up the atmosphere, at least the one surrounding the stinky cat.
An empty tin can rattles in the distance. Sharp claws click over the pavement. Instantly, my hand goes to my holster. I remove my weapon and check to make sure it’s loaded. From the corner of my eye, I see the first hint of fur sprouting over Ace’s flesh. The scent of wolf musk ignites my beast. He rattles his cage wanting out.
Wait. Not yet.
Ace, now a large gray wolf, stops by my side. His hackles go up and he races, full speed, into the dark. I crouch low. A decision needs to be made—permit my beast to take down Ryder, claw against claw, or do this myself in human form. I’m sure I’ll be happy with either choice, but part of me wants to be fully cognizant when the light fades from Ryder’s silvery eyes.
Snapping jaws and growling come from the edge of the parking lot. Sprinting through the maze of cars, I move toward the sound. A bloodstained, hulking cat with glowing, ghost-like eyes cuts me off. The scent wafting off him lets me know the identity of the fucker on the inside.
“Fight me like a man, Ryder,” I command.
He responds with a death stare. Its coldness threatens and challenges me at the same time. Thick, viscous saliva drips from his wide mouth. The impureness coming from the creature dissolves the asphalt as it connects. My hand tightens around my Glock.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way.” Lifting my arm, I aim the weapon. “It’s totally up to—”
In a blur, all four feet leave the pavement. Ryder growls. Intense pain rips through my wrist. Filthy fangs clamp down and break the skin. Bones crack. Blood drips down my arm. Yelling, I sink to my knees. I struggle with the old cat, but I can’t yank my arm free from his strong grip. Ligaments, tendons, and muscle shred as Ryder shakes his head. My breath saws in and out as I try, once again, to extricate my useless shooting hand.
Out of the darkness, the large gray wolf emerges and pounces on Ryder’s back. The wolf’s fangs sink into the flesh. The pressure lessens on my wrist. Ryder’s jaws release, and a deep whimper fills the night.
Moaning, I collapse to the asphalt. My good hand cradles the mangled, throbbing wrist as the two beasts tangle, rolling around like a couple of wild dogs. The gnashing of teeth and tearing of flesh calls to my beast. Honestly, the transformation would speed my healing but erase any advantage I might have as a man.
You can’t shoot him. Change!
I rock back and forth, biting back the pain. A strange sensation, like heat, passes through my hand. Little by little, ligaments and tendons knit back together. The muscle grows stronger, and the limpness disappears. The pain fades as I’m able to flex my fingers. My wrist is solid again.
How the hell did that happen so fast?
“Hank?” The voice is shaky and full of concern.
I swing around and find Edwina standing behind me. What the fuck is she doing here? “Go back inside, Edwina! It’s too dangerous for you out here!”
“Don’t worry about me,” she yells. “Ya need to change so ya can kick his ass.”
Edwina shouldn’t be out here, especially if I need to change. Ace runs up to my side, panting. Blood drips from his mouth.
Change, dammit!
His wolf echoes my beast’s sentiment. If I don’t obey him, my beast is going to take over. It’s dangerous when we allow the animal inside to do our thinking. They’ll start believing they’re in control and will present themselves in any situation. That’s the problem—not being able to regulate their transformations—with common werewolves. Reluctantly, I holster my weapon.
“What do ya need?” Angel is at my side. “If ya need me, I can help.”
“Just hold this for me,” I say and pass her the sheathed gun. “I’d rather you not see this.”
Ace growls. The wolf has no patience for decorum.
“Just do it and get it over with.” Edwina turns her back, giving me a semblance of privacy.
My beast is so close to the surface the transformation is almost painless. Just before I succumb to the dark wall surrounding my mind, I see Ryder’s ghost-like stare.
It’s on…