Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(47)

Tamsin never cheated at cards. She didn’t need to. Humans had subtle changes in scent when they were bluffing. Easy to know when she had the best hand on the table.

Nothing explained why she sat here instead of fleeing. She wasn’t certain what had made her turn back, except the pang in her heart when she realized she might never see Angus again.

What did it matter? She could arrange to meet with him—someday, when Shifter Bureau agents and über-dominant Shifters weren’t chasing her. They might be twenty years older by then, but hey, what could they do?

Angus would have found another mate by that time. He was fine-looking, kindhearted, and strong, even if he was grumpy. He deserved a mate who loved him.

Tamsin’s chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe. No wonder she wasn’t running—the escape must have exhausted her more than she’d thought.

She tensed when three men emerged from the motel, their height and bulk telling her they were Shifters, one unmistakably Angus. No glimmer of sword hilt marked the one who must be Sean, but he’d probably left the sword locked in the room so he didn’t frighten the natives.

They all walked to the black semitruck cab, Angus, carrying a small, squirming wolf cub. Dylan and Sean didn’t stop Angus from climbing up into the truck—in fact, Sean opened the passenger door and set a bundle of something on the seat.

Then the two Morrissey men backed off. They didn’t wave or say any farewells, only watched as Angus started the truck, turned on its lights, and drove out of the parking lot.

Shit.

Tamsin waited another moment to see which direction Angus headed. Dylan and Sean remained in the lot, watching him go, lights glinting on their dark hair.

In the next second, Tamsin was gone. She dove beneath the trees and leapt the creek, dashing through scrub on the other side. She crouched low and then leapt straight over a barbed-wire fence, scraping her belly along the way, but barely feeling it. Then she was running, running, skimming over the ground on an intercept course to the highway Angus had taken.

Tamsin had never been good at geometry in school, but she could figure the exact angle she had to run to meet the truck, which Angus drove at a steady speed.

Her legs pumped, the furrows of plowed earth dragging at her abdomen, the stubble of cut crops stinging her. She ran straight through a patch of slick mud, slipping sideways before she could regain her footing. The mud slowed her, and the truck was passing.

Damn it. Tamsin changed her angle to compensate, forgetting about breathing as she zoomed across the field, her paws scrabbling to reach the asphalt as the black truck sped past her.

Tamsin hit the highway’s shoulder and kept running, desperately chasing the truck she had no hope of catching. Like an optimistic dog, she thought. I sure hope no one’s watching, laughing at me . . .

Her lungs demanded oxygen. Tamsin’s body made her stop before she wanted to, despair exploding through her as air filled her lungs.

The truck’s tires squealed on the pavement and the cab skidded sideways. The red glow of brake lights bathed Tamsin, and the truck halted.

The driver’s door opened. Angus leapt straight to the ground, the engine purring behind him, and ran for Tamsin.

As Tamsin gasped for breath, Angus reached her, scooped her up as though she weighed nothing, and hugged her against him.

“It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

The simple words made Tamsin collapse. She went limp against Angus’s chest as he carried her to the truck, lifted her onto the seat, and sprang in swiftly behind her.

Tamsin lay still, panting, legs splayed, her fur matted with mud.

Angus guided the truck back onto the road, speeding up as he went. There was no traffic, no one to slow for as he drove on.

“Ciaran, give her that blanket.”

Ciaran leaned from the back seat, a woolen blanket in his small hands. He draped it carefully over Tamsin, his touch steady, his face creased in concern.

Ciaran made sure Tamsin’s head poked out—her mud-coated head with its open, drooling mouth. She must look like shit warmed over.

Tamsin lay as a heap of helpless wet fur, shivering and unable to stop. Ciaran petted the top of her head, making soothing noises. His touch, small but caring, started to calm her.

Finally, Tamsin summoned the strength to shift. Ciaran lifted his hand away as Tamsin slid into her human body and drew the blanket close over her naked limbs.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said in a hoarse whisper to Angus. “Going my way?”

Angus kept driving, hands on the wheel. He didn’t have a clear idea where he was going, which bothered him—he only knew they couldn’t stop.

Tamsin crawled into the back and onto the bed, pulling the curtains that hung around the bunk closed. She emerged a few minutes later dressed again.

“Why do you think Dimitri hung up curtains?” Tamsin said to Angus as she slid into the front seat with startling ease. “I think it was so he and Jaycee could sneak inside and close out the world. When the truck is a-rockin’, don’t go a-knockin’.”

Angus ignored this. “You all right?”

“Would love a shower and my hair is a wreck.” Her voice was weak. “Running like hell across a mowed field in the middle of the night is harder than it looks. Otherwise, fine. How did you leave things with Dylan? Did he say, Oh well, I give up. See ya later?”

“Dad punched him.” Ciaran’s voice was tired but full of pride. “Fought him off. Sean had to break them up.”