Mellizo Wolves (14 page)

Without slowing her pace, she melted into the shadows and
ran, crouched low, through the brush, silent as the night that was pressing
down on her. She could scarcely breathe. If she continued in a direct line, the
fanned out and approaching hunters would catch her. With a gripping sense of
rising panic, she turned toward the highway that snaked down from the pinnacle
of Mt. Baldy. Even following the road was taking a tremendous risk.

She heard the roar of a motorcycle coming around the bend
leading from the mountain resort. She dashed into the underbrush, naked as a
jaybird and shivering from the cold.

Like a fury in a flash, he drove right up to the bush where
she crouched and stopped. His headlight fell over her like a glowing snare.
“Can I help you, miss?”

Recklessness played in his smile, his glinting eyes, and in
his powerful movements.

She shook her head violently. “Go away.”

He removed his helmet, attached it to his handlebars, then
gestured toward her nudity. “I can’t leave you on this dark, snaking road like
that. If someone doesn’t hit you, you’re a rape waiting to happen.”

She sized him up. Except for the lock of bad boy hair that
fell across his forehead, his strong Jag-type features reminded her of a young
David Elliot, clean shaven and gorgeous. But the rest of him was definitely a
bad boy hard-body and the kind of slightly older, experienced, long-haired guy
her dad and Uncle Hugh had warned her to avoid. “You expect me to get on your
motorcycle and ride nude like Lady Godiva? That should be an awesome trip for
the other motorists.”

He was already taking off his leather jacket and blue,
long-sleeve shirt. His wide shoulders and scrub-board abs were highlighted
breathtakingly by moonlight. He started toward her.

She made a palms-up stop gesture. “Don’t come any closer,”
she said, hating the tremor in her voice.

He broke off a long stick from another bush, hooked the
shirt over it, and shoved it toward her. “At least put this on. You look like a
giant goose bump.”

She grabbed the shirt and slipped it on. It was still warm
from his body heat. “Thanks,” she muttered.

He tossed her his jacket. “Put that on, too.”

She snuggled into it. More heat wrapped around her, along
with his enticing male scent. An involuntary shiver went through her, this time
not from the cold.

He met her gaze. “What were you doing out on this road
nude, anyway?”

“You writing a book?” she quipped.

“Nah. Just an incurably curious guy.”

“That could land you in big trouble, friend.”

“I’m used to trouble. But I’m glad you see me as a friend,”
he said, grinning. “You can trust me.”

She inhaled the foul scent of the hunters closing in. “All
right,” she said. “But don’t even think of trying anything or your flashy Road
King Classic will end up in a heap at the bottom of one of the ravines.” She
was amazed how tough she sounded.

“You know motorcycles?” he asked, amusement glinting in his
eyes and his comeback as jaunty as if they were old friends.

Her heartbeat quickened at his flirty raised brow and the
deep, rich tone of his voice. “Not really. I’ve never ridden one.” If she had,
she sure as heck wouldn’t have ridden nude. “But my Aunt Kat’s longtime
boyfriend, Deeto, has one just like it.”

Hearing the hunters’ voices getting closer, she said,
“Look, let’s go—now! We can gab later.”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling and his probing gaze as
intimate as a kiss. “I’ll hold you to that. By the way, I’m Rick.”

Although her heart was pounding like crazy from looking
into his thickly lashed eyes, she didn’t have time for guy-crazy emotions or
chitchat. “I’m Victoria. Now go!”

“Terrific,” he said. “Another bossy chick.”

He mounted the bike like a pro, agile, in control. Mr.
Gorgeous was probably an expert at mounting all sorts of things…even females.
She hiked her leg over the centerpiece and eased into the seat, wincing when
her delicate genitals met icy leather. Forcing herself not to cry out, she
tucked the shirt under her rump and thighs the best she could, wondering if
he’d ever had a nude woman on his bike before.

Her sense of vulnerability heightened as the powerful,
high-gloss machine seemed to absorb her. It was even more frightening that the
fascination and susceptible sensation she experienced extended to the bike
possessor’s trim-waisted, wide-shouldered bod.

Possessor. Interesting word choice, she thought. She
couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like to be possessed by a
wilder, more experienced guy like him.

He handed her the helmet. “Put this on and cling tight to
me.”

She fought to ignore the heat that ignited between them as
their fingers touched.
Oh, God, I’m in real trouble here.

Straddling the cycle with muscular legs, he flipped up the
kick stand with a heel. He turned the key and hit the kick-start pedal.

Victoria lowered the helmet shield and wrapped her arms
tightly around his cold, bare, trim waist. It was a good thing they were only a
short distance from her home for a number of reasons, including her nearly out
of control desires and the fact he might freeze off his balls in the mountainous
chill.

He swerved onto the highway and hit the gas. She gasped and
her knees locked tighter around the bike as an unbelievable surge of icy wind
pounded her body. She pressed against him, searching for heat, excited by the
in-control authority emitting from him and the power of the cycle vibrating
between her thighs. She felt like an icicle with a boiling volcano about to
erupt inside of her raging-hormones body.

He glanced back. “You’re going to feel as exposed as you
were while nude in the bushes, but inertia, centrifugal force and the bar
behind you will hold you in place.”

He failed to mention her steely hold on his solid middle.
“I’ll be okay.”

She clung tighter to his torso, memorizing its David-like
contours and Goliath strength. She hoped she was pressing some of her warmth
into his icy, exposed skin.

In seconds, they rounded a curve and blended with the
night. With her superior hearing, she caught the angry shouts of men near the
edge of the road where they’d parked only moments ago. She breathed a sigh of
relief. Now she only had her sister to worry about. And the exploding fireworks
when Rick dropped her off at home—naked.

Chapter Seven

Damon paced the girls’ room while Angela stood on the
terrace, staring out into the night. He didn’t just identify with her dread; he
took it on and added it to his own. Often he absorbed the mirror neurons that
activated her brain, sometimes without him even realizing it until his mood
suddenly went through a radical change. Unfortunately, feeling the double agony
didn’t ease hers.

He glanced at the clothes on the floor. There was no doubt
the curse had hit full-bore. Now his twins would be tormented by the same
secrets that had kept him a prisoner for so long. Unless he found a cure, the
girls’ agony would repeat at every full moon. Dear God, where were they? He had
to find them before they harmed themselves or someone else. What if the wolf
hunters were out tonight? He couldn’t even seek help. It would be dangerous for
anyone to know about his girls’ affliction. Finding them rested solely on his
shoulders. To save time, he had to figure out which direction they might have
headed. He paused when he heard a motorcycle coming up his driveway. He rushed
downstairs and glanced out the window. The full moon highlighted a bare-chested
man and a scantily dressed girl wearing a helmet. His gut knotted. Although not
in lupine form, the slender body gave him hope it was one of his girls.

* * *
*

Victoria felt a stab of fear as Rick steered his bike up
the curved driveway to the mansion. It was a bad sign that all the lights were
on. As Rick eased to a stop, her dad tore out of the house like an enraged
bull, her mother following, her face tear-stained.

“Where’s your sister?” he demanded.

“I don’t know.” She wished she did.

“Do you see that full moon? Did you forget you girls were
confined to your room?” She figured he’d seen their clothing shredded on the floor
and that was the reason he hadn’t asked why she was wearing just a man’s shirt
and leather jacket.

“Get off that bike now!”

There was no graceful way to comply with his demand. She
balanced herself with her left foot on the ground and hiked her right leg up
and over the rear storage compartment that rested over the fender area.

Her mother gasped.

Dad glanced at Mom, transmitting one of their secret
messages with his look. Then, in a no nonsense tone, he growled, “Victoria, go
inside with your mother and try to explain your way out of this situation. And
be prepared for a second grilling when I come in.”

She squared her shoulders and stood firm. “First, I need to
thank Rick for the ride and give him his shirt and jacket back.”

“I’ll take care of this biker. You go inside. Now. You can
send his clothes out with Kyle.” He pressed the remote control to the single
door of the triple car garage. “Rick, is it? Follow me. We have some things to
discuss.”

Victoria grabbed her dad’s arm. “Dad, no. Please don’t
embarrass me. This guy is just an innocent bystander.”

“It’s all right,” Rick said. “If I were your father, I’d
have a few questions, too.”

* * *
*

Inside the garage, Victoria’s father introduced himself.
Rick had heard of Damon Lamont and knew the man could play hardball. He felt a
tic at the corner of his eyelid and wondered if Lamont noticed. What the hell
was he worried about? As long as he dealt straight with this concerned father,
they shouldn’t come to blows.

Lamont got down two bar stools hanging from the wall. “Have
a seat. So, what’s your last name, Rick? Ricardo?”

“No, sir, it’s Tanner. I’m half Indian.”

“An Indian biker. My daughter can sure pick ‘
em
.”

Rick felt Lamont sizing him up. He knew standing there,
bare-chested, in biker boots with a diamond stud in his earlobe, he looked like
every father’s worst nightmare.

“How old are you, Rick?”

“Twenty, sir.”

“My daughter is only eighteen.”

Rick felt heat crawl up his neck. He wanted to point out
that eighteen was the age of consent in California. But it wasn’t the kind of
thing to say to an angry father. “I didn’t ask her age. When a nude woman is in
distress on a dark mountain road, my only goal is to get her home safely.”

“You didn’t touch her, did you?” Lamont’s words sounded
more like a threat than a question.

“No, sir. She told me if I even thought of trying anything,
my Road King would end up in a heap at the bottom of one of the ravines. Your
daughter is one tough cookie.” Rick fought the admiration in his voice.

Lamont almost smiled. “So tell me your side of what
happened?”

“Not much to tell. Your daughter was nude and vulnerable in
the bushes and I brought her home. I think someone might have been chasing her.
She was in a hurry to get out of there.”

A red-headed carrot-top with spiky hair and pale,
water-blue eyes slipped out of the mansion like a phantom and handed Rick his shirt
and jacket.

Lamont introduced the man as his houseman and friend, Kyle
Cooper. He shook Cooper’s icy hand, thanked him, and then Cooper slipped away,
silent as a ghost, and disappeared into the house. Rick had heard that everyone
who lived or worked at this place was odd. He was beginning to believe the
rumors.

“Are you in school, Rick?” Lamont asked.

“S.B.V.C. Night classes.”

“Employed?”

“I’m head security officer at Mt. Baldy Resorts.” Rick felt
his body stiffening at the barrage of questions.

Lamont’s eyes widened. “You’re in security? And part
Indian?” Rick could see the wheels turning in Lamont’s head. “Any tracking
experience?”

“I was raised in the desert near an Indian reservation. My
Uncle, Indian Joe, taught me a lot about tracking. And my brother Al has a
detective agency in Palm Springs. I helped him out during the summers when I
was in high school.”

“Intriguing background. Maybe we can do some business. I
have a missing daughter. I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you find her tonight.
She might be on the same road where you found Victoria, or wandering the hills
at the foot of Mt. Baldy.”

“I’d be glad to help, sir, but as a fellow human being, not
a paid tracker. What does she look like?”

Lamont pulled out his wallet and handed him a photo. “She’s
Victoria’s identical twin. The only difference between the girls is Valerie is
blonde, a little quieter, and more vulnerable.”