Seal Wolf Hunting (9781402293832) (22 page)

Jerome looked so startled as he turned his attention from Howard to her that she didn't believe he'd try to retaliate.

“What Paul said stands for me and our pack. Stay out of our business.”

Howard got up and brushed himself off, scowling, but he didn't look her directly in the eyes to challenge her. “You can't fight all three of us off. And you have no say in what we do with the other women in your pack,” Howard said.

“They've been forewarned about you. They know any who form ties with any of you will be cut loose from the pack.”

Howard stared at her, then slapped Jerome on the shoulder. “Come on. We'll see about all that.” He motioned with his head to leave and they took off.

She knew she'd have more trouble with them later.

* * *

For five weeks, Paul and the rest of the SEAL team followed the rebels' and Michael's trail through the jungle.

“You know the full moon is out tonight,” Bjornolf warned.

Everyone knew it. But they'd been born
lupus
garous
. All of them had several generations of wolf blood.

A wolf who had only been turned for about a year, like Michael, could have trouble with feeling the urge to shift during the full moon. He could control the shifting at other times, but during the full moon, that was a different story.

If Michael was bound, which undoubtedly he would be, Paul wasn't sure what he could do. Shift while still dressed and bound? And then they'd probably shoot him.

Hunter and his team couldn't think about that. All they could do was pray that Michael could hold out.

“I still smell the scent of the female wolf,” Paul said. That added a complication to the rescue mission. Not only did Michael need rescuing, but a female might also need their help.

But was she a hostage? Or one of the rebels?

Twice, they'd encountered armed men who had quickly found themselves outmatched. No matter how good these criminals were at hiding like chameleons in the jungle, the SEAL team was just as familiar with the terrain and camouflage—and had the added advantages of their wolf sense of smell and their night vision.

When they came upon a lightly guarded camp at dusk, they smelled Michael's and the she-wolf's scent. Still crouched in the dense foliage, they considered the guards: four on the perimeter and three more sitting in front of a campfire. A large tent was behind them with no telling how many guards inside.

Hunter signaled to each of the SEAL team members about who would take out which of the perimeter guards. Paul and the rest of his team members quietly made their way to their targets, and without alerting anyone, Paul took out his guard, then waited for Hunter's signal to go after the ones sitting around the campfire.

As soon as Hunter motioned to the team, Finn, Allan, and Paul moved simultaneously into position to take down their new targets, while Bjornolf stayed on perimeter watch. The others threw daggers, and each of the men targeted slumped over, no one having made a peep.

While Allan stayed on perimeter watch, Paul and the others rushed to reach the tent before anyone else arrived. Carefully, Paul pulled the tent flap aside. Inside, it was dark, but with the glow of the campfire nearby and their wolf night vision, they found three kidnappers inside, sleeping on mats. Michael and a dark-haired woman were tied up to the center tent pole. The team quickly took care of the remaining guards. Thank God, Michael hadn't shifted into a wolf.

Paul hurried to untie Michael, who was scowling, while Finn removed the woman's bonds. Her face was flushed and she appeared to be in pain, from the way she was grimacing. Her dark brown hair framed her face in damp curls, and her dark brown eyes were heavily lidded. She was barefoot, wearing a torn linen skirt and silk blouse, and had numerous scratches on her arms, legs, and face.

“They broke her leg,” Michael growled. “This is Cora Smith from San Antonio, Texas.”

“Are you all right?” Paul asked, considering both of their appearances. They looked starved and dehydrated.

“Yeah.” Michael was wearing a nice pair of dress pants, or had been. They were grungy and torn, and his cotton shirt was stained and exhibiting fresh tears. He was wearing sneakers at least, not dress shoes. But boots would have been better.

Paul had envisioned a similar scenario to the hostage situation on his and Allan's last mission—the captives malnourished and dehydrated. He hadn't expected the woman to be so injured.

“Were the two of you together when they grabbed you?” Hunter asked, and Paul knew he was trying to learn if Michael had made friends with her, or if it was just a random kidnapping.

“Yes,” Michael said.

“No,” Cora growled.

The guys smiled.

Their injuries healed more quickly than humans, so hers had to be very recent. “I'll get something to splint her leg.”

Hunter was already pulling out his med pack. When Paul returned, Hunter had finished taking care of Michael's and Cora's cuts. They had to keep her quiet on the trek, so Hunter gave her a shot for the pain.

Paul had found a couple of straight and sturdy tree branches to splint her leg, while Allan got Cora to drink and eat a little. Hunter shared his extra rations with Michael.

“So what happened?” Hunter asked as he helped Bjornolf hold Cora still while Paul and Finn started to set her leg.

Michael ran a wet cloth over her face to cool her down. “She came to the art gallery to check out her competition.”

“I did not,” she gritted out, scowling.

“Okay, so she says she stepped into the gallery to talk to the owner about carrying her work. Then when it was closing time, we headed out at the same time, and we were both grabbed,” Michael said. “They thought I was famous and she was my girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes.

“So you're a painter too?” Hunter asked, and Paul knew the ploy. Hunter was trying to get her mind off her leg.

“Landscapes.”

“Wolves,” Michael said. “I know
my
competition.”

Her eyes widened a bit, then she narrowed them. “And landscapes.”

“With wolves.”

Despite the dire situation, the guys were smiling.

“How are you doing as a wolf?” Hunter asked Michael.

“I'm fighting it.”

“Maybe he should run as a wolf,” Paul suggested. “We'll carry his clothes.”

“He's newly turned?” Cora managed to get out, looking aghast.

Paul assumed she wasn't then. Which was a good thing.

“What about you?” Hunter asked.

“Royal.”

Which meant her
lupus
garou
ancestry went so far back that she could control when she shifted any time of the year.

“Good,” Hunter said.

When Paul and Finn tightened the splint, her cheeks drained of color, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she was out.

Everyone was silent while Paul and Finn finished strapping her into the makeshift splint.

“She's okay, isn't she?” Michael asked, concerned.

“Yeah, just passed out. Better for her until the painkiller kicks in,” Paul said. “Maybe you should run as a wolf. You can use my field pack for your clothes.” He wasn't used to being around newly turned wolves, so he waited for Hunter's take on it.

“Yeah, Michael, why don't you do that?” Hunter asked.

Michael looked down at Cora, then acquiesced, quickly stripping and shoving his clothes into Paul's bag. “Be careful with her, will you?”

“Yeah, you know we will.” Bjornolf gathered her in his arms.

Michael shifted into his gray wolf form and they headed out.

The trek was hot, buggy, and humid, and tropical birds sang in the jungle high above in the canopy as the team made their way to the quickest point where they could be helicoptered out.

They remained quiet, Paul and the others providing protection as they made their way through the jungle. They took turns carrying Cora and stopped to rest a few hours from the kidnappers' campsite. Even Michael had shifted after hours of hiking, dressed, and carried her for a couple of hours. Cora had woken a few times, gritted her teeth, and passed out again, but despite the pain medication, she moaned from time to time. And had been irritated at herself for doing so.

Paul and the others were dying to know more about the woman, but for now, they had to keep quiet and keep moving.

They'd avoided any jungle villages, trying to keep from attracting anyone's attention, afraid word would get back to someone that the hostages had escaped and were headed this way. They hadn't encountered any predators of the two-legged variety, but when they crossed a stream and saw cliffs ahead, Paul felt an eerie chill sweep up his spine. He knew if Hunter had led them here, it was the quickest way to the landing site. They had no choice but to make the climb.

Since everyone had recently taken a turn carrying Cora but Paul, he would carry her on his back. Michael would be beside him on the climb, and the rest of the team would hurry to the top and provide cover. Not that anyone was able to hurry in this heat and humidity.

As soon as they started the climb, Paul felt this was too much like the last time. He fought replaying the last scenario, telling himself he'd be to the top in no time, that no one would see them or begin shooting at them.

It was different this time, he reminded himself. They had a hell of a lot more firepower than when he and Allan had freed the college students. And all of the team members were trained in combat, unlike the students.

Yet, because Cora was injured and unable to climb out on her own, the scenario was too similar to the last time. Michael was right beside him if he needed to grab Cora. Paul's skin was sweaty, but despite the heat and humidity of the jungle, and the heat of Cora's body, Paul felt ice-cold.

Then from the jungle across the stream, shouts ripped through the thick, humid air, sounds he'd hoped he wouldn't hear on this trip. He was maybe fifteen feet from the top of the cliff, but no matter how much he told himself he had to move faster, with Cora's weight and the fear of making a fatal misstep while climbing, he couldn't ascend any quicker.

As soon as the deadly pops of gunfire filled the air, sounding like firecrackers, Paul knew he was once again in a bad place. “Go,” Paul gritted out. “Get up top and find cover.”

Michael wasn't really helping, and with him hanging on the cliff beside Paul, he was every bit as much of a target as Paul and Cora were. Paul's mission was to get Cora to the top, not to worry about anything else. If he worried about Michael…

He couldn't help thinking how this could end badly though. And he couldn't help thinking about Lori and how she'd tried so valiantly to be brave for him when she felt anything but.

Michael was near the top when Bjornolf and Allan helped pull him to safety, pushing him behind them while they continued to shoot at the rebels.

Rounds were pinging off the cliff face all around Paul, way too damned close. One nicked his cheek. He growled and looked up, realizing he was about to reach the cliff's edge and praying Cora hadn't been hit. He wouldn't know until they made it to the top whether she was all right or had been injured.

Then strong arms, Bjornolf's and Allan's, were pulling him up and over the cliff's edge, out of the gunfire's path.

Bjornolf quickly untied Cora from Paul's back and cursed. Paul felt cold all over as he turned, fearing the worst—Cora had been shot and was dead.

The men weren't looking at her. They were crouched around him, appearing concerned.

“Why don't you roll over and lie on your belly,” Hunter said. “You'll be all right, Paul. You've got a pack to lead now and a wolf mate to get back to.”

“Cora,” Paul said, not understanding what the trouble was.

“She's fine,” Bjornolf said, sounding relieved to an extent, but he was still tense. “They didn't hit her.”

“
You've
been hit, Paul. Minor scratch.” Hunter pulled out his med pack, while Finn sliced open the back leg of Paul's pants.

Then Hunter hurried to dress and bandage Paul's leg wound while Bjornolf and Allan watched for any more surprise attacks. Michael was seeing to Cora, who was still passed out.

Paul hadn't even felt the bullet hit him, which wasn't all that unusual. The shock, adrenaline, nerves severed, all of that could numb the feeling. At least he hadn't felt anything until he saw the bloody mess, and Hunter poured antiseptic on the wound, which stung to hell and back. Minor scratch, his ass. But he appreciated the guys acting like it was no big deal.

Even though he knew that they realized it was a big deal. Not only had he suffered some blood loss, but any open wound in the jungle, no matter how minor, could become infected. At least with Cora's injury, the broken bone in her leg hadn't torn through the skin.

“So you think there's something there for you to build on with Cora?” Paul asked, trying to get
his
mind off his injury.

Michael frowned as he cradled her in his arms. “She was pissed to high heaven that the rebels took her hostage too, thinking she was my girlfriend.” Then he smiled a little. “I wouldn't mind, really.”

The guys chuckled.

“I've seen her artwork. And she's really good. But I don't think she likes that I'm so newly turned.”

Paul glanced at Hunter. He saw the look of speculation on his face. If he could encourage the two wolves to hook up, he'd have a problem solved. Watching out for a newly turned wolf was a job. Someone in the pack always had to do it.

After they finished bandaging Paul, who was feeling the burning pain now, they headed out again.

They had two days of vigorous hiking left to reach the pick-up zone, but Paul was slowing the team down. Carrying Cora out was one thing. Michael couldn't help. He had to run as a wolf all day because he was having trouble with the pull of the full moon. And two of the men had to assist Paul.