Moon Called (Mercy Thompson #1)(87)

When I lifted my head, the red wolf stuck his nose in my face and ran a long tongue over my cheek before Adam cuffed him lightly. I got to my feet with Adam's help, but stood on my own.

Adam reloaded the automatic when I handed him a fresh clip-though he grinned when I took it out of my bra. I think I was glad I couldn't hear well enough to decipher what he said. He put the SIG in my holster, picked up my revolver, and handed it to me. Then he turned his attention to Shawn, who waved away Adam's concern.

The werewolf at our side was more reassuring than the loaded gun I carried as we walked toward the door. It wasn't that he was more effective than the. 44, but his presence meant that the pack was near. All we had to do was join them, and we were safe.

I glanced at Adam. He looked healthy, as if he'd never been hurt. I'd heard that the Alpha could take strength from his pack; but I didn't know why it had worked here, when it hadn't had the same effect at Warren's house.

Shawn went through the door first, the red wolf at his heels. It was night, and the waxing moon was high in the sky. Adam held the door open for Jesse and me, then walked out into the field of parked cars like a man walking into his own living room.

At first I could see no one, but then a shadowy form emerged from behind a car, then another one, and another. Silently Adam's pack formed around him. Most of them were in wolf form, but Warren and then Darryl came as humans. They wore dark clothing and both of them were armed.

Warren looked at the red wolf, our rescuer, and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't break the silence. He examined Adam and then touched Jesse's bruised cheek.

"Warren." Adam spoke in a soft voice that wouldn't carry far. "Would you take my daughter and Mercedes to safety, please?"

Another time I would have argued with Adam. After all, who had rescued whom? But my arm was throbbing brutally and I'd done my killing for the day. The only good thing was that my ears had quit ringing. Let Adam and his people finish this, I was ready to go home.

"I don't want to leave you," said Jesse, taking a firm grip on her father's borrowed T-shirt.

"I'll take her to my house," Warren said, with a reassuring smile at Jesse. "You can stop and pick her up on the way home." In a softer voice, he said, "I'll stay with you until he comes. You'll be safe with me."

"All right." Jesse nodded in a quick, jerky motion. I think she'd just figured out that her father wanted her out of the way before he dealt with the people who'd kidnapped her.

"I don't have a car here, though," Warren told Adam. "We ran about three miles as the crow flies to get here."

"Shawn?" I said, trying to keep my voice as quiet as everyone else's had been. "You told me that there was an old truck around her somewhere that was easy to hot-wire? If you can tell me where to look for it, I can hot-wire it so Warren can get us out of here."

"On the far side of the warehouse, away from everyone else's cars," he said.

I started off alone, but Warren and Jesse were soon on my heels. The truck was the only car on the far side of the warehouse. Parked in the center of the pale illumination of one of the warehouse's exterior lights, was a 69 Chevy, painted some dark color that glittered. Someone was going to be very unhappy to see his toy missing-if he survived Adam's wrath.

But that wasn't my problem. My problem was how to hot-wire a car when my right arm was broken. I'd been keeping it tucked against my side, but that wasn't going to be enough for much longer. The pain was steadily getting worse and making me light-headed.

"Do you know how to hot-wire a car?" I asked Warren hopefully, as we approached the truck.

"I'm afraid not."

"How about you, Jesse?"

She looked up. "What?"

"Do you know how to hot-wire a car?" I asked again, and she shook her head. She smelled of fear, and I thought of how she had clung to her father.

"That guard tonight," I said.

She looked puzzled for a minute, then flushed and hunched her shoulders.

"He's not going to bother anyone ever again."

"He was the dead werewolf?" I couldn't read the expression on her face. "That's why you killed him?" She frowned suddenly. "That's why Dad shot him like that. How did he know? He was unconscious-and you didn't say anything to him."

"I didn't need to," I answered, and tried to explain that moment of perfect understanding, where a gesture had told Adam everything he needed to know. "He saw it in my face, I suppose." I turned to Warren and handed him the. 44 so I could do my best with the truck.

Hot-wiring the truck with one hand took me longer than the keys would have, and the awkward position I had to take in order to strip the housing off the steering wheel and touch wires had me bumping my injured arm. But the engine roared to life at last-something bigger than the original powerhouse rumbled underneath its hood-and I realized my hearing had cleared up completely.

"I've never heard you swear before," said Jesse, sounding a little better. "At least not like that."

"Power words. Without which mechanics the world over would be lost." Warren's tone was light, but his hands were gentle as they helped me extract myself from the cab. He handed me my gun and, when I fumbled, took it back and made sure it was at half-cock before he handed it to me again.