Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(38)

“By the God.” With a savage scowl, Thorson hurried to the door and—rather than locking it—stepped outside.

What in the forest was going on? Darcy followed him out onto the sidewalk.

He sniffed the air and growled, “Stay in the store.”

“Right.” She obediently took a step back.

“No.” A young female screamed, “Leave me alone!”

“Get the fuck away from my kid, you bastard!” A woman shouted from the alley around the corner.

“Jamie, Vic!” Thorson dashed that way.

A child in danger. Trouble. Darcy started after him. Stopped. Bad trouble. She dove back into the store, grabbed the fire extinguisher from the case inside the door, and chased after the old male.

Thorson moved fast. He disappeared around the corner. A roar of fury came from him followed by thuds and horrendous growls.

Owen charged past her and into the alleyway. She turned the corner and saw him attack a huge man.

The man wasn’t a shifter—no shifter stank like carrion.

Thorson lay slumped against the brick wall near a pregnant woman and a teenager.

Growling and cursing, Owen and the man wrestled and then the man punched the cahir. Knocked away, Owen stumbled on some debris and fell.

Even as the cat shifter rolled back to his feet, the stranger pulled out a pistol.

No! Darcy charged. “Hey, dumbass!”

As the pistol swung toward her, she pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher, aiming for his head. As the white cloud enveloped him, she threw the metal can at his head and dove to the right.

The pistol fired with an ear-hurting bang.

A second later, Owen was on the man. A cracking-crunching sound made her stomach clench.

The man fell limply to the concrete.

Such utter limpness. He was dead. Like ten-year-old Cecily whom a guard had hit too forcefully. Like her mother on the cart as it was pushed past the door, her arm hanging limp, and her blank eyes staring at Darcy.

The alley filled with noise. People were shouting. Darcy couldn’t look away from the unmoving human-sized heap.

Dead bodies didn’t move.

“Little female, you shouldn’t… Darcy? Darcy.” Warmth touched the side of her face; a firm hand turned her head.

She blinked and stared into eyes the color of forests, of leafy growth, of life.

Owen’s hard eyes softened. “You with me?”

“I…” She swallowed and tried again. “Are you all right?”

A crease appeared in his cheek. “Thanks to someone putting out a fire. Nice job, kitten.”

The approval in his rough voice was unexpected and bracing. She hauled in a breath and looked around—anywhere except toward the body.

On his feet, Thorson was brushing off his clothes.

In a tan uniform shirt, a male as big as Owen had his arms around the pregnant woman and the girl. He snapped low-voiced orders to a younger cop.

“Aye, Alec.” The young cop crossed the alley to deal with the people amassing at the entrance.

After hugging the two females, Alec handed them over to Thorson and sauntered over. “Good hunt, Owen. Calum will be pleased.”

“The thanks go to Darcy.” Owen’s big hand rested on her shoulder, lending her strength. “The demon-dog pulled a handgun. Would’ve shot me dead if she hadn’t hosed him down with a fire extinguisher and bounced the container off his skull.”

“That was fine thinking, miss.” Alec went down on his haunches in front of her. “I smell blood. Did he hit you?”

“No.” After a second, she realized her hands hurt. Turning them over, she saw her palms were scraped raw. “When I threw the can, I kind of dove to the side, just in case.”

“Smart. I appreciate smart.” The cop’s grin was as easy-going as Gawain’s. Apparently, death wasn’t something that bothered him overly much. “I’m Alec, the sheriff here.”

“Um. Nice to meet you?”

He chuckled and turned. “Thorson, can you escort my vixen and Jamie to the Wild Hunt? Owen, you take Darcy there, and everyone can report in to Calum. Tell him I’ll see him after I tidy up here.”

“Good enough. I hate cleanup.” Owen rose, reached down, and hauled Darcy up like a puppy. Before she’d taken a step, she came face-to-face with the bookstore male.

“You all right, Joe?” Alec asked.

“Aye.” The grizzled old male gave her a firm nod and a slight smile. “You did well, girl. Welcome to Cold Creek.”


Keeping a firm hold on the little cat’s arm, Owen used his other hand to text his littermate about the attack. Darcy could use someone to hold her hand, and fuck knew, Owen wasn’t much of a nursemaid.

This female deserved a bit of pampering.

She was silent as they walked out of downtown and uphill toward the Wild Hunt on the outskirts of town. He’d expected hysterics…tears, at the very least. Instead, he got a pulled-into-herself reserve.

He studied her. Her color usually matched his tanned skin, but now her face was pale gray, her dark eyes looked glassy, and she was trembling.

“Darcy.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t seem to have heard him.

The knot in his gut tautened. After a vicious battle, he knew how to support the other cahirs, to extend silent sympathy or joke them out of a mood. But she was shaking…harder.