In Like a Lion (13 page)

Chapter 17

Jake stared down at Anjali. Her pupils were tiny pinpoints against the light. Her honeyed skin was paper-white.

He should get back in the stolen car and drive away, but the truth was—he couldn’t.

A spasm squeezed his heart. He’d put her through hell. How much more would being with him cost her?

With each fraction the distance between them had increased, the ache in his chest had multiplied exponentially until the pain was almost incapacitating. He’d had no choice but to come back.

The man had understood at last what the beast had known from the beginning. Anjali was his mate. There was no leaving her.

And though he should have been ashamed at his failure to protect her, he’d only felt a buoyant lightness so intoxicating it was hard to keep from grinning like a fool.

He lowered the flashlight he’d found in an emergency kit in the other car, and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, Anjali.”

“Jake?” Her voice shook.

A spear of fear stabbed through him. She’d stood up to the bloodthirsty predator only to be abandoned by the man. Could she trust him again?

Then a beaming smile split her face. The kernel of a laugh born of sheer relief germinated in him but he only grinned.

She took his hand and he helped her out of the trunk.

“Do you still want to come with me?” He examined the sparkle of a shattered beer bottle beneath the streetlights. The fragments gleamed like emeralds against the dark pavement.

A warm hand cradled his cheek. She diverted his gaze to her face. The sparkle there was twice as fascinating. “If you try to leave me again, I will hunt you down and shoot you. Even if I need an elephant gun to do it.”

She slid her hand from his face and ran to the passenger side of the car, shoes slapping the pavement.

Jake gazed up at the night sky and let out the breath he’d been holding. Only a few plucky stars were visible through the haze, but clearly one of them was lucky.

Gareth winced and shook the palm he had smacked against the roof of the white Honda civic.
Great. Now, his hand hurt, too
.

“How did we miss them?” he asked, pressing his stinging palm against the cool glass of the car window.

Anders placed a laptop on the hood and flipped up the screen. “There must be something wrong with the tracking devices. I’ve got nothing.”

Then he pressed a large hand against the hood. “Engine’s warm. They can’t be too far ahead.”

Gareth rotated, searching for some hint of their direction. “The question is, ahead where?”

Anders rubbed his chin. “He took his phone, right?”

Gareth nodded.

“I know somebody who can hack phones.”

Gareth smiled. He barely noticed his throbbing palm and the smart in his ribs as he patted Anders’ meaty shoulder. He could feel the strap of the guard’s shoulder holster through his thin shirt. “Good man,” he said. “Good man.”

You’re pathetic,
Anjali admonished herself, as she swiveled in her seat to study Jake.
Stop staring at the man.
But she couldn’t help it. As attractive as she’d found him the first time she’d seen him, he was ten times more beautiful sitting there driving the car.

Because he
left
you
.

The desolation of the thought depressed some of the giddy relief coursing though her since she’d realized who’d opened the trunk.

They’d been traveling in silence for some minutes. The traffic on the road had thinned now and they were making good time.

“Why did you come back for me?” Anjali asked. She sucked her lower lip as she waited for his answer.

“I realized I needed your help,” he said at last.

The reason sounded plausible, but she thought there was more than pride making him consider his words. “If
I
could smell lies, would I be covering my nose right now?”

“No.” He glanced at her. “Look, I’ve got a name now for what I am, but that’s all. Nothing has really changed. I could have killed you at your apartment building, and who knows how many others.”

Yellow edged the rim of his blue eyes. His body was rigid, his features tight with anguish, and she realized he was shamed by the devastation he’d wrought in her apartment.

She leaned as close as the seat belt would allow and laid her hand on his arm. “They tried to kill you and would have killed me, too. You were
capable
of killing me. But you
didn’t
.”

The yellow seeped out of his irises. He nodded and some of the tension in him seemed to abate.

She was reluctant to press him further, but she’d come to the conclusion that the cessation of her pain when he’d returned was no coincidence. Either something about his presence had put her pain in remission or . . . the pain had been a direct result of her separation from him. If so, she had to know whether being apart had affected him the same way it had her. “So why did you come back?”

He shot her a swift glance before returning his gaze to the road. A sigh swelled his chest. “I had to come back. Being away from you . . . hurt.”

The truth, she read from his body language. Not all of it, but enough.

She pulled her braid over her shoulder and toyed with the end. Now, she was the one delaying, but admitting she felt the same left her vulnerable to him in a way she hadn’t been in years.

She glanced at the padded roof for a second. Being away from him had caused her real, physical pain. She could hardly be more vulnerable than she already was. Besides, her scientific curiosity begged for answers.

Her braid tickled her arm as she leaned toward him. “It hurt me, too.”

He nodded slowly, as if absorbing her words.

Her eyes traced his profile and the enormity of everything that had happened in the last few hours struck her, her possible illness with its looming threat of the terrifying ‘C’ word, the escape, the gunfight in her home, but most of all confronting an enormous lion in a parking lot. A lion who was now a man.

“I’ve never seen anything like you in lion form.” She rubbed her arms. “You were maybe seven hundred pounds and change.” The seatbelt pinched her shoulder and she yanked the webbing away, relieving the pressure before letting it snap back in place. “You—” How could she sum up the electric fear—the thrill—his other form inspired? What could she say that wouldn’t pour salt on the festering wound? He’d saved them, but at what cost?

They drove into a warren of industrial buildings, broken windows illuminated in the moonlight. Gravel crunched under the tires as Jake parked, clicking open his seatbelt.

Anjali put her hand on her buckle. “Where are we? What are we doing here?”

“I have a cache here.” He opened the car door and paused, his shoulders falling. “Damnit, I can feel that the money is gone from here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m drawn to treasure. It’s why I became a thief. Now, I guess it’s a dragon thing.” He stood and headed for the nearest building.

“Oh.” Anjali popped open her door and rushed to catch up to Jake’s long strides. “If the money’s gone, why are we still here?” The cracked pavement was littered with debris. The complex had clearly been empty for years. She stumbled over a piece of junk she’d rather not identify.

“I left some clothes here, too. Maybe we’ll get lucky and I wasn’t totally cleaned out.”

They rounded the building and came into a back alley. Now that her eyes were totally adjusted to the dark, it seemed almost bright as day. “Wow, the moon is bright.”

Jake glanced at her, his eyes glowing with reflected light, like a cat’s. “I hadn’t noticed.” He took her elbow. “Careful of the glass.”

She glanced down and saw a row of broken bottles, gleaming brown shards slicing into the air. “This is dangerous. Someone should clean this up.”

He hunkered down and moved a large, wooden pallet that had been leaning against the metal wall. “I put it here.”

“Ah. OK.”

Behind the pallet was a slender gap in the wall. Jake reached in up to his shoulder. “Damnit. I think it’s all gone, but I can’t be sure. I don’t fit in here anymore.”

She eyed the narrow fissure. “Anymore? When was last time you fit?”

“Um, thirteen?” He considered the opening, then ran an assessing gaze over her hips. “I think you’ll fit. Just turn sideways and watch the glass.”

Anjali opened her mouth to protest, then shook her head and crouched down to slide into the hole. After all that had happened today, his request felt easy in comparison. It was darker inside. She winced as she put her hands and knees on the cool floor and felt the prick of dirt on her palms. “There’d better not be rats in here.” She could make out some amorphous shapes, but nothing seemed to be moving.

“There might be a lighter above the door.”

She fumbled over the opening. He’d called it a door. An idea pressed down on her, sending a pang through her chest. Did that mean . . .? “You lived here, didn’t you?” she asked as her hand closed around the smooth, cool plastic of a disposable lighter.

“For a while.”

She spun the wheel with her thumb and after a few sparky misfires, got a steady flame. The space was even tinier than she’d thought in the dark. Not much bigger than a refrigerator box on its side. There were various rough wooden pieces propped on cement blocks like makeshift shelves. The corrugated metal walls were covered with drawings of animals in a childish hand. She closed her eyes, her throat aching.

“Did you find anything we can use?”

“Uh”—She swept the dark corners with the light—“I’m sorry. It’s empty.”

She backed out carefully, her body heavy with grief. No child should have had to live like this. Jake shouldn’t have had to live like this.

He helped her stand and started toward the car, but she couldn’t move, the weight of his past too heavy.

He turned back toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“You put the glass there to so no one could get in and hurt you.”

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “More like so I could hear them coming.”

She swallowed, thinking of the young Jake she’d seen on the recordings, so small, vulnerable and unloved, huddled in this hole, cold and frightened. “And the drawings?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have toys. They watched over me.” He took her hand. “Come on. Kincaid’s not the only thing to be afraid of here.”

Back in the car, Anjali closed her eyes, banishing the images of a scared and helpless young Jake, as the grown man navigated the car through the maze of buildings and got onto the freeway.

She glanced at her cell phone. 10:32.

Chest still heavy, Anjali glanced at Jake as the road stretched on into darkness.

He jerked his head toward a mileage marker. “We’re several hours from Las Vegas. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?

Anjali folded her legs to the side and pillowed her head on her hands. Breaking a man out of confinement, close encounters with lions—it’d been a very long day.

The rhythm of the road had lulled her into a half-sleep for who knew how long, when a violent jerk and the screeching grind of metal rending metal startled her awake.

“What’s going on?” Heart pounding, she dug her nails into the fabric of the seats to stop her shoulders hitting the side of the car.

Jake’s face was a grim mask as he fought to keep the car on the dark desert road. “Kincaid.”

Chapter 18

The screaming protest of their car’s bumper fending off the Expedition’s assault bombarded Jake’s ears. He steered hard to the right to stay on the road. Anjali cried out and braced a hand on the high dashboard, knuckles white.

Fury gritted his teeth. Despite his attempt to restrain himself, a growl escaped. His fingers ached with the sensation he now recognized as his claws trying to emerge. The urge to pull over to the median and yank his enemies out of their vehicle roiled through him. The lion roared inside. Kincaid threatened his mate.

He shoved the lion back into his cage. No matter what Anjali had said, he didn’t trust the beast, nor did he want Anjali to have to see the damage he might inflict.

He jammed his foot on the gas. The older car was much more compact than the other vehicle, but strongly built with a big engine.

The tires squealed, and the smell of burning rubber bit his nose.

Thank God they’d switched cars. Anjali’s Civic would have been peeled like an orange by the sturdy fender of the SUV.

The other vehicle rammed them from behind with a sickening crunch, slinging his head forward on his neck.

Anjali yelped.

He sped up, weaving from side to side.
Wham
, the Expedition glanced off the side of the car with a grinding smack. Jake spun the wheel and put the gas pedal to the floor as they fishtailed, skidding to the edge of the road.

There was no moon and the desert lapped like a vast dark ocean beyond the reflective yellow ribbon marking the verge. Jake flicked off the lights.

“What are you doing?” Anjali’s voice rang out high and rough with fear.

“I can see in the dark. They can’t.”

He spun the wheel to the left and the right, evading the advancing SUV. Sparks fell as the Expedition struck them and bounced off.

Losing the lights had helped, but not enough.

“We’re going to have to find a way to kill their lights.” His throat was thick with urgency.

“How?” Anjali braced her hands on the dashboard as they swerved to avoid another hit.

“There’s a toolbox on the back seat. How well can you throw?”

Anjali shook her head. “I doubt I throw well enough to hit the headlights of a moving car. You—”

“Can
you
see in the dark?” Jake asked over his shoulder as another impact shuddered through the car.

She inhaled deeply and climbed over the seat. He could hear clinking sounds as she gathered ammunition.

Her head popped up. Metal tools glimmered in her arms. Her eyes gleamed in the shadows. He could read fear and determination on her face. “I’m ready.”

A twinge of some emotion he couldn’t label twitched in his abdomen. “I’ll roll down the back window.”

Gasping from exertion, Anjali positioned herself by the glass.

“There’s just one more thing.” And that one thing almost made him tell her to stop, but if she didn’t do this they had no options except the beast, and the man had had his fill of killing for one night.

He could hear her swallow, fearing what he might say.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t miss. Once you throw the first tool, they’re probably going to start shooting.”

The window hummed down. Anjali’s belly felt liquid with dread. How could she do this? She was reasonably coordinated, but no athlete.

Had it only been five days ago her life had been barrenly normal? Now, here she was playing Mad Max on an empty desert highway at God-knew-what-time in the morning.

She wrapped her hand around the cool, heavy form of a wrench, then reconsidered. The headlights were made to withstand collisions. Anything without enough mass might just bounce off the protective covering.
If
she hit it at all. And that was a big
if
.

She inhaled, fighting to push air past a lump in her throat the size of Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport and hefted a hammer.

Don’t miss.
They’ll probably start shooting.

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who would have his head and arm sticking out of the swerving car.

The car’s sharp jerk to the left knocked her head on the window support. Pain exploded in her temple, and a flare of anger kindled in her chest.

If he would
change
, she wouldn’t have to do this. She turned to him, but the hard line of his mouth in the rearview mirror extinguished the words on her lips.

The actions of the lion earlier, though necessary, clearly tormented him.

Shame, hot and bitter, washed over her. He’d been unfairly imprisoned for most of his life, used, and lied to. What was asking him to
change
if not using him?

Panting, she turned back to the window and leaned out. The SUV chose that moment to smash into the side above the back wheel.

She squeaked as the impact rocked her, dangling her like a rag doll against the metal.
God, I’m going to end up smeared on the side of the car like a bug.

The SUV dropped back, then thundered forward for another hit. Anjali bared her teeth, propped a hand on the side of the car, and seized the opportunity. Grunting with exertion, she fractured the headlight with a vigorous swing, opting not to throw the tool, and circled the hammer inside, making sure she took out the bulb.
Damn, that felt good.

The headlight went dark. “Yes!” Anjali muttered and yanked herself back inside the car, diving for the floorboards with the hammer still tightly in her hand. The car wouldn’t provide much protection from a bullet, but if they couldn’t see her, it would be harder to shoot her. She hoped.

“Nice job,” Jake said.

Anjali couldn’t see him directly from her position, but the light from the remaining headlight reflected his image on the closed driver’s side window like a mirror. Approval curved his hard mouth.

Warmth flowed through her at his praise, but a second later, it was replaced by an icy shaft of terror as a bullet ruptured the back windshield and embedded in the dashboard. She couldn’t hold back a scream.

Jake’s hand on the wheel blurred though the rest of him remained human. On his fingers, tawny fur replaced golden skin.

“Fuck!” His hand/paw slipped on the steering wheel as he struggled to maintain his grip.

Another shot took off the passenger side mirror.

Jake slammed on the brakes. The tires shrieked.

Anjali flew against the back of the diver’s seat, dropping the hammer and grabbing the bottom of the back seat for support. Ripped plastic pricked her palms as she scrambled for purchase, barely able to breathe past the lump in her throat.

The car skidded and came to an abrupt stop. As she struggled to a sitting position, Anjali heard the driver’s side door squeal open. The lion roared, making her heart stutter with a crazy combination of apprehension and relief. Though she still feared the awesome power of Jake’s other side, the stakes had once again devolved down to kill or be killed, and in lion form, Jake had proven himself very good at killing.

She never saw him leave the car, but a large form bounded after the Expedition’s taillights.

She peered out the open window. The SUV had skidded to a stop about 100 meters ahead, partly off the road. Clouds of dust settled around the bulky vehicle.

A snarl that raised the hair on the back of her neck rolled through the night.

There was a crunch, the tinkle of broken glass, and the remaining headlight winked out, leaving an inky darkness more complete than any she’d ever experienced.

Now, all she could do was listen.

Metal whined then crunched, pierced and shredded by giant claws. She could hear the SUV’s undercarriage groan as it was buffeted. She thought Jake was on the hood of the vehicle.

There were muzzle flashes, and several pops echoed against the rocky slopes.

They were shooting at Jake.

The hot, dry air seemed sharp, cutting Anjali as it eluded her gasping lungs. She couldn’t bear to watch and she slid down further.

The doors of the larger vehicle opened and booted feet smacked the pavement.

“Get the girl,” someone said.

Panic swelled through her. Every beat of her speeding heart hurt. She groped on the floorboards for the fallen hammer.

Where was it? Where was it?
Her fingers found the rubberized handle. But the tiny surge of relief she felt at having a weapon was swallowed by the realization of how completely inadequate it was against the firepower Kincaid’s men carried.

She waited, palms damp on the hammer handle, pulse racing, for what seemed an eternity. Finally, the door wrenched open, and someone probed the car. Though it was so dark she could only discern the incrementally darker shadow of the man because of his movements stirring the air.

Goose bumps raised on the back of her arms.

She lashed out with the hammer, but missed. The grunt of her effort must have given some hint to her location because a steely hand seized her upper arm and jerked her toward the open door.

She whacked the man’s forearm with the hammer, which vibrated with the impact, stinging her hand.

“Fucking bitch!” The man, his voice strident with pain, let her go and stepped back.

Her eyes were starting to get used to the lack of light and she could see him framed in the door—a large, black shadow against a thick charcoal backdrop.

His arm lifted as he leveled a gun at her.

The action stopped her heart. She froze.

A crack of gunfire split the night.