Hunted

“Yes, come in Harry.”

 

 

I watched Johnson step into the room, expecting to see a hitch in his gait from where I had driven the screwdriver into his thigh, but his steps were smooth and fluid. Sluggish thoughts churned, trying to make sense of what was happening. He should have been limping, his face should have been bruised and swollen. Instead he looked the same as ever all the way down to the arrogance that curled his upper lip into the beginning of a smirk.

 

What the hell is going on?

 

“Nice of you to join us, Cray,” Johnson said, his beady eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction and a hint of something else I couldn’t pinpoint.

 

Looking to Holbrook for some kind of explanation, I found him staring back at me, his brows pinched in confusion.

 

“I hope you’ve enjoyed wasting the bureau’s time,” Johnson said. “We’ve had men traipsing all over the city looking for your arrogant ass.”

 

“You son of a bitch!” I growled, leaping up from my chair despite the stab of pain that seared through my middle.

 

My fingers barely grazed the front of his shirt before Holbrook was there, wrapping muscled arms around me. I hadn’t even seen him move. One moment he was across the room, and the next he was curling me against the hardness of his chest, enveloping me in the scent of his skin.

 

“Let go of me!” I shouted, trying to reach around him to get my hands on Johnson. I struggled in his arms, pushing ineffectually at his shoulders, too weak to move him.

 

“Get a handle on your attack dog, Holbrook,” Johnson said.

 

“I should have fucking killed you!”

 

“Calm down, Riley,” Holbrook pleaded, his eyes alight with worry.

 

“No! He has to pay for what he did,” I said, growing still in the circle of his arms. My lower lip began to tremble, my eyes hot with unshed tears. “He has to pay,” I whimpered, tucking my face into the crook of his neck to hide the tears that tracked down my cheeks.

 

“You crazy bitch,” Johnson said in feigned amazement.

 

“That’s enough. Everybody take a breath.” The iciness in Santos’s voice cut through the tension in the room, making me shrink further into Holbrook’s embrace.

 

“You saw her Santos, that psycho tried to attack me. I want her arrested.”

 

“Hang on a minute. That’s not necessary. Let’s all just—” Holbrook began to interject.

 

“The hell it’s not! She’s nuts.”

 

“She’s not—”

 

“Silence!” Santos thundered, his voice filling the room with the force of a wave crashing into a cliff side. For a moment it seemed to suck all the air out of the room, blanketing it in silence except for the faint ringing in my ears. “Everyone just settle down.”

 

“I want that crazy bitch arrested, Santos. She’s dangerous,” Johnson fumed, pointing a thick finger in my direction. The motion made the cuff of his shirt ride up to show a brief flash of a thick braided band around his wrist, the skin around it pink as though he’d been twisting it around his wrist over and over.

 

“Is that really necessary?” Holbrook asked, releasing his grip on me while maintaining his position between me and the rest of the room.

 

“Defending your little pet, Holbrook? How surprising. After all, you do seem to have a thing for freaks.”

 

I couldn’t see Holbrook’s face from where I stood behind him, but there was no missing the way his shoulders tensed and the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

 

“Which one fucks better? The wolf, or the bitch?”

 

I saw Holbrook’s hand clench at his side, the muscles in his arm bunching beneath his shirt as he started to swing. As much as I’d have liked to see him lay that asshole out, I knew he’d regret it later. He was too much of a white knight to sink to that level.

 

I, on the other hand, had no such problem.

 

Ducking under his arm I launched myself at Johnson, my fist connecting with his jaw. High as a kite on painkillers and still feeling the effects of the wolfsbane, I wasn’t swinging with my usual force, but I’m sure he was seeing stars.

 

Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet and compressing my ribs, forcing an agonized cry from my lips. I saw Johnson stagger backwards through the pained tears that rose in my eyes, his face turning purple with rage.

 

“You fucking cunt!” Johnson hissed, wiping blood off his lip. “You’re going to pay for that.”

 

“Riley, stop,” Holbrook soothed, but I had already gone limp in his arms, my breath lodged in my throat.

 

One of his hands slipped beneath my shirt, his palm warm against the skin of my stomach. If I’d been able to breathe, my breath would have hitched at the shock of energy that arced through his touch, sinking down into my middle. I thought I caught the scent of cool summer rain and freshly turned earth, but dismissed it as impossible.

 

Whoa, these must be some really good drugs.

 

A.J. Colby's books