He lowered his arms with a harsh curse. “Drop the knife.”
“Hands up first. Call me weird, but I don’t trust that you won’t—”
His eyes snapped toward the door and widened a little, and she got the feeling he heard something that she didn’t. He leaped backward so fast it took her breath away. He backhanded her, sending her crashing into the dumpster. Her head hit the metal so hard she was surprised she didn’t hear something crack. He fled like hell’s army was on his heels.
“Bastard.” She struggled to her feet, dazed and pissed off.
The door swung open, and Zander came rushing out with the other wolves behind him.
She pointed down the alley in time to see Rory disappear. “That way! The motherfucker went that way!”
If she hadn’t swayed, making his stomach bottom out, Zander would have joined the others in pursuing his twisted brother. Instead, he grabbed his mate by her elbows, steadying her. “Gwen, baby, where did he hurt you?” His voice shook with barely contained fury and a need to hurt. But she came first.
“I’m okay. Really. Banged my head, though.” She prodded the back of her skull and winced. “Gonna have a goose egg for sure.”
He growled, gently probing the area she’d touched. “I can smell your blood.” There was only a hint of it in the air, but it was enough to send yet more rage coursing through him. His wolf paced within him, growling and snarling.
“Oh yeah, he pricked my side with his claws.” She peeled up her shirt and saw small, shallow puncture marks—blood had seeped to the surface, but it wasn’t pouring down her side or anything. “Your eyes just flashed wolf.”
“My beast is pissed right now,” Zander told her. “He wants to hunt and kill the fucker responsible.”
“It was Rory,” she said quietly, hating that the knowledge might hurt him.
Zander tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt and pressed it against the punctures even though the wounds weren’t bad. “I know,” he rumbled. He took a long breath, seeking a calm he knew he wouldn’t find for at least a few hours. Gwen didn’t need his rage right then. “Ally had what she calls a flash-vision. Most of the time, her visions are at least a couple of minutes long. But occasionally she just sees a single flash of the future—like a photograph. She saw him putting you in a car.”
“We didn’t get to that part.” Ally sure was handy to have around.
Zander clasped her nape, vowing, “I’ll kill him. When they bring him to me, I’ll kill him.” Slowly. Mercilessly.
Gwen saw the Mercury wolves returning. “Not sure you’re gonna get the chance.” Because Rory wasn’t with them.
As Zander turned to them, Derren said, “The asshole sped off in his car before we could get to him. No point trying to chase him—he has too much of a head start, so he’d easily lose us.”
“Trying to snatch me was a half-assed plan,” said Gwen as Ally came to her and laid a healing hand over the punctures on her side.
“It was a test,” Bracken corrected. He looked at Zander. “It was a test to see if you’d be upset if something happened to her. You remember the threat he made.”
Derren frowned. “What threat?”
“Yeah, what threat?” asked Gwen.
Bracken explained, “When Zander refused to give Rory any of his inheritance, Rory said, ‘If you don’t give me what’s mine, I’ll take from you what’s yours.’”
And Gwen was definitely his, thought Zander. He doubted that Rory had any clue that Gwen was his mate, but he was clearly aware that she was someone to him. “Do you think he followed us to Oregon? He could have been lingering around our territory, saw us leave, and then followed.”
“It’s possible,” said Bracken. “Or maybe he’s here to see the attorney—Rory wanted to contest the will, right? I doubt he could. He’s probably just hoping that if he bothers you with legal shit, you’ll give in just to get him off your back. But he could have come to see the attorney, spotted us somewhere around town, seen you with Gwen, and then waited for a chance to test you.”
Zander wasn’t sure. Right then, while the scent of Gwen’s blood tainted the air, he couldn’t think straight. He only knew one thing . . . “Rory won’t get to you again,” he promised her. “I’ll find him.”
Shaking her head, Gwen fisted his shirt. “If you go hunting him, it will divide your resources.”
“You think I should let this go?” he asked, voice soft and filled with disbelief.
“Yeah, I do. Bracken said it was a test. If you don’t go after him, he’ll think this didn’t affect you that much. It isn’t all that different from me pretending to cower over the Brandt thing—which is something I’ll have to do tomorrow when I meet with Kenny. If I can do that, you can do this.”
The problem was . . . Zander wasn’t sure if he really could. “Maybe I should take you to my pack’s territory. You could stay there.” Where she’d be safe and he wouldn’t have to smell her fucking blood every five minutes.
“And that isn’t all that different from me going to a safe house.” Gwen lifted her chin. “I’m not leaving here.”
Zander planted his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. You matter to me, Gwen. You don’t see that, I know, but it’s true. I have to know you’re safe and protected.”
“Yeah? Then pretend you don’t give a shit what Rory did. That’s what will protect me from him.”
Derren sighed. “I hate that she’s right, but she is. He’ll get what’s coming to him, Zander. He won’t get away with this. Not in the long run. We just have to be choosy about when we strike. Besides, one thing we can be sure he’ll do is come back—he’s intent on fucking with you. But now we know to keep an eye out for him. He won’t touch her again.”
Sensing that Zander wasn’t even close to calming, Gwen leaned into him and slid her arms around his waist. Resting her cheek on his chest, she said, “I really want to go home. Can we make that happen?”
Fighting to keep his touch gentle, Zander brushed her bangs away from her face. “Yeah. We can make that happen.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kenny dabbed his mouth with a napkin and then wiped his fingers. Smiling, he leaned back in his chair and gestured from him to her. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
No, it wasn’t. Gwen just looked at him. It was the first time that he’d spoken since they’d chosen a table. They’d eaten in silence as customers chattered, oven timers beeped, cutlery clattered, and frothing machines whirred.
The bell repeatedly chimed as more and more people filed in. It was a busy place. Despite the long line to the register, the stainless-steel counter and bistro tables were always clean and clear of crumbs. Kenny had wanted them to meet at a local, upscale restaurant, but Gwen had declined. Instead, she’d chosen this bakery-slash-coffeehouse.