Range fought the urge to bite down on his damned lips. Now why the hell did he go and tell her that he’d seen her knocked out by the blowgun?

His exclamation didn’t go unnoticed, he saw. Her eyes, already narrowed with suspicion were slits now.

And still the woman was drop dead gorgeous, in a crazy way.

A crazy, wish I could take her right now way, he noted.

Her cheeks had an angry bloom on them. “What the hell—”

“You really want to stay here and visit? Talk about how I happened to be at the right place, at what I’d call the right time?” He dropped to his knee and scooped up the keys from under the leaves at the bottom of the tire, then rose and jingled them near his face. “I suggest we get the hell out of here before your friends come looking for you.”

It didn’t look like she was going to argue that point.

She frowned at him and opened the door, jumping in.

He followed suit and started the truck, pulling out quickly and wasting no time to getting the hell out of there.

Eira Winter was seated as close to the door as she could be.

You’d think I have something contagious.

They were off the dirt path, but still on some country road headed back to I-45.

She’d been silent the whole time, as though processing.

Or plotting.

Range wouldn’t put it past her. The woman was something else. He’d never seen someone fight quite like she did. Even in the Special Forces Unit, none had those specific skills.

It was like watching a form of martial arts he’d never seen before.

“What are you?” he asked her.

She said nothing, her profile stoic.

“Look—” patience was not one of Range’s virtues, “—seems only fair that since you know about me… about what I am.”

“I didn’t want to know what you are. I didn’t want to know anything. I didn’t want to be bothered. Why were you following me?”

Range let a breath out. “I was paid to.”

“Who paid you?”

“Your turn to answer.”

“I’m a warrior.” Her words were clipped.

He picked up an accent but wasn’t sure… something was niggling at his mind, but he couldn’t figure out what it was or where her accent was from.

“What kind of warrior?”

“Your turn.” Her smile was not humorous or friendly.

“I don’t know the name of the guy that paid me. He said you had something that belonged to him.”

“You didn’t meet him?”

“No.”

“Talk to him?”

“Yes.”

“So, what was his voice like?”

“Where is your accent from?”

“The north.”

He almost smirked at that nonresponse. Then something hit him.

“His voice had an accent. The one that hired me. One a bit like yours.”

Her lips moved, then pursed.

He could have sworn she said a curse word under her breath, but it was in a language he wasn’t versed in.

He slowed at an intersection to take a left, this would be the last leg before getting onto the highway and heading back to Houston.

Then what?

He had no clue. He also didn’t know he wouldn’t have a chance to find out.

“I’ll take it from here.” Those were her final words.

She opened the door and leapt out of the vehicle while mid turn.

She rolled then was immediately on her feet and running toward the trees and undergrowth.

The door slammed shut from the force of the turn.

“Well, I’ll be—what the—”

Range pulled the truck over, breathed out a sigh of exasperation.

Just because he trained to be able to shift immediately after shifting so soon didn’t mean it was enjoyable. It didn’t mean it didn’t take a toll on his body.

With that thought, he shoved the keys back in their hiding place under the tire, and shifted into his wolf.

Let’s go find her.

Then what would he do with her?

He’d deal with that thought when he found her.

Wouldn’t be difficult. It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to follow her scent.