Run Fur Love (BBW Tiger Shifter Romance) Page 12

  Harley rubbed her hand across her forehead, wondering how the hell everything got to this point. The last thing she wanted was to argue with Duke. But going in guns blazing wasn’t her style. None of this was her style.

  Jericho stepped forward. Ember tensed beside her, but didn’t say anything. “Surprise is going to be our only friend. He knows, by now, that Duke is still alive, that Harley wasn’t killed in the fire. If we wait…”

  The shot came out of nowhere, hitting something metal on Duke’s bike. The whine was so fucking familiar; she knew that Morgan or his men were out there somewhere shooting at them again.

  Jericho tackled her, taking Ember down in the same move. From the ground she saw Van and Bear, both reaching for their waistbands, pulling out handguns. She thanked whoever was looking out for them that they’d completely ignored the no-weapons rule she had. The men took cover behind the shed, which was still standing, although the roof had fallen in.

  “Come on.”

  Jericho had Harley’s arm in one hand, Ember’s in his other. He half-dragged, half-shoved them toward the stinking pile of burned timbers. Broken glass from bottles crunched under their feet, as they dove for cover.

  “What the hell do we do now?” Ember crouched behind the burned bar, soot streaked across her face. Harley sat with her back against what must have been the back bar, the big mirror lying in cracked shards on the ground.

  “You stay here.” Jericho crouched, ready to go wherever he thought he was going to go. But another shot rang out, followed quickly by two more. Harley heard a cry of pain, and scrambled to her knees, just as Duke stumbled across the yard, falling in a heap behind the bar. Another shot winged over their heads, and all three of them ducked reflexively.

  “Duke…are you hit?”

  Blood stained the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “Flesh wound. Jericho…you got a line on where he’s hiding?”

  “Tree line, south. There’s more than one.”

  “Where’s Van and Bear?”

  Duke changed his position, wincing in pain. “They’re shifting, heading around the edge of the field. There’s enough cover with the long grass. But we need to give them a diversion. Here.”

  He shoved a gun into Harley’s hand, spilling ammo on the ground at her feet. “Shoot, anywhere toward them. Just make them think we’re all here, keep them from shooting. Give the other guys a chance to get up there. They’re not stupid enough to think someone won’t shift, but we have to do something.”

  Harley nodded, peeked her head over the edge of the bar, and fired toward the trees. A small pine tree exploded in splinters, and she thought she saw a figure dive for cover.

  Beside her, Ember pulled out a small snub-nosed pistol, took aim, and fired at the trees.

  “Where the hell did you get that thing?”

  Ember turned to her, and even though Ember’s eyes were wide with fear, she flashed the grin that Harley was used to seeing on her face. “Van.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  A shot whistled overhead, and they ducked. Harley felt behind her for the comforting presence of Jericho, but he was gone. Panicked, she turned around. The space behind her, where he’d been, was empty. With wide eyes, she turned to her brother.

  “Jericho?”

  “Shifted. Gone.” Duke was crouched beside the edge of the bar, taking aim, sending a barrage of fire toward the tree line. “Just keep shooting, give them a distraction.”

  The three of them fired, aiming for the trees. Duke reloaded Ember’s pistol for her; Harley managing to reload her pistol without shooting herself, or her brother, or her best friend. She crouched down, took aim, and shot toward the trees.

  There hadn’t been any fire from the trees for a few minutes. They stopped firing, listening for any kind of sound coming from the trees. Then she heard it, the sound of shifters fighting.

  “Come on. We gotta go up there, and help.”

  Duke pushed himself to his feet. Ember followed, Harley leading them along the same path the tigers took. But while the long grass might have hidden the tigers, she felt they were totally exposed. It felt awkward holding a pistol while she ran, but there was no way in hell she was going to leave it behind.

  The three of them ran dozen yards to the end of the field, crossed a short stretch of bare dirt, her heart thumping sickly in her chest. She expected gunfire, waited for one of them to get hit. But the closer they got to the trees, it was clear why no one was shooting at them.

  Tigers seemed to be everywhere, big bodies locked in combat under the tall pines. For a minute Harley had no idea which tiger was Jericho, or Morgan, or even if Morgan was one of them. Then through the dust she saw him, saw Jericho, teeth around the throat of a big tiger. He shook his head, blood running out of his mouth, staining the white fur of his chin and neck. The other tiger went limp in Jericho’s grip. He flung the body aside, as if it was a dirty orange, and black rag. Then he turned with a snarl, as another tiger charged across the clearing. In that second, Jericho caught Harley’s gaze. His eyes held rage and pride and, for a moment, such emotion for her, that she could only stand with her mouth open, watching as he turned away meeting the next attack, getting hit hard enough to knock him to the dirt in the clearing with such force that Harley cried out.

  She raised her pistol, aiming, trying to get a shot at the tiger attacking Jericho. They were a blur, and she closed one eye, trying to force herself to take a shot, trying to keep her sights on the other tiger and not on Jericho. Just as she was going to pull the trigger, something hit her arm, almost knocking the pistol out of her hand. She turned, angry and surprised, to face Duke.

  “You can’t get a clean shot. Don’t.”

  “I can’t just stand here, waiting. Watching.” Harley’s body thrummed with anger, and it took all her restraint not to scream at Duke. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “We can’t do anything except watch. I don’t want to shift; I can’t leave you two alone.”

  “We can take care of ourselves.”

  Brave words, but looking at the melee going on in front of them, she wasn’t so sure. Van and Bear were tangled up with a huge tiger, claws slashing through fur, teeth snapping, grabbing and tearing. Jericho looked like he was holding his own, and for a hopeful minute she thought this would be it, this would be the end. One of the tigers left had to be Morgan, had to be.

  She raised her pistol again, wildly trying to tell the beasts apart, then let her arm fall to her side. There was no way to tell which was which, except Jericho. Duke was right. She felt small and helpless, not wanting to resign herself to just standing by and watching.

  Ember had dropped to her knees beside Harley with a cry of frustration, as Van was knocked to the ground by the huge tiger. For a minute he scrambled for footing, the other tiger ready to strike again.

  The fighting went on, growls filling the air, bodies slamming against each other, or the ground. Her heart was breaking, watching Jericho, and her guys, Bear and Van, fighting for her, for her life. She wanted it to stop, wanted all of this madness to end, but she was paralyzed in place, fear ripping through her body leaving her panicking.

  Suddenly an arm went around Harley’s throat, cutting off any kind of scream of surprise, cutting off her breath, and pulling the gun from her shaky hands. She was jerked backward, and stumbled. The arm around her throat tightened, and she was pulled up by that arm, pulled against a man. It could only be a man, by the scent, the hardness of his chest. And he was a shifter, also by scent. It had to be Morgan; could be no one else.

  “Harley!”

  Ember was on her feet, but she was frozen, a look of shock on her face. Beside her, Duke turned, bringing up his gun, the barrel looking huge from her view. He held it for a moment, and for all the world it looked like it was aimed directly at her.

  “Morgan. Let her go.”

  “I could shoot you right now. Just as easily as I could shoot her.”

  Something cold pressed against her temple, a
nd she didn’t need to see what it was to know it was the barrel of a gun. Her gun used against her.

  Morgan moved just a bit, and his arm loosened its death grip on her neck. She dragged a breath in before he changed his mind, but she was afraid to move, afraid anything she did would set him off.

  “You don’t need to hurt Harley, Morgan. This is between you, and me. Let her go, and let’s fight this out like men.”

  “Do you think I’m hiding behind a woman? You should talk: you ran away, Duke…you ran away, and so I went for second best. Your sister.”

  Duke’s eyes were hard, locked with Morgan’s. “Yeah. I did. And that was wrong. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Behind Harley and Duke, the fighting among the tigers had stopped. Her guys—Bear, Van, and Jericho—stood apart from the other tigers. Morgan’s tigers were slowly circling her little group. She wanted to tell Ember, or Duke, at least get their attention. She wiggled against Morgan, but he only tightened his grip on her neck.

  “Finally grew a pair, huh? About time. But I’m done with you. She’s the one who’s responsible for what happened to Jake. She’s the one who’s going to pay for all that happened to him. She left him broken, tossed him away like yesterday’s garbage. My brother lost his will to live because of her… he lost everything.”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind Harley knew if she didn’t do something, Morgan was going to just keep ranting, working himself into some kind of frenzy, and just kill her without hesitation. Her time was running out, and she knew she had to do something quickly. She looked past Ember, met Jericho’s eyes. He paced back and forth behind Ember, putting his body between her and Duke, and the other tigers. His eyes were locked on her, and she saw rage swirling in the depths. She tried to tell him, as best as she could, with her eyes, heart, and mind, that she was terrified of what was going to happen, but…but what? That somewhere under all fear, that she trusted him, that she knew that he’d come through for her, that she’d get out of this somehow…together. That somehow this would end, once and for all.

  Ember was kicking the ground, making a little hole in the ground with the toe of her boot. It distracted Harley from Jericho, and she frowned at her friend. Ember scowled, her brows coming down over her dark eyes. Morgan’s vice-like grip loosened just a fraction, and she found she could turn her head, managed to get her throat into the crook of his elbow. And she took a cautious breath, then another.

  “You think this is over, just because you’ve killed a couple of my men. I’ll tell you, they knew what they were getting into, knew they might not come back. They’re loyal to me, work hard for me. Just like they were loyal to Jake.”

  Morgan was breathing hard, his heart thudding against her back. He took the gun away from her head, waving it in the air by her ear. Harley tried to see where he was pointing the thing, but she couldn’t turn her head.

  Everyone else was quiet, as Morgan continued his rant, telling them they were all going to pay now, including Jericho, calling him a traitor for not doing the job he was hired to do. Ember had practically dug a hole with her boot. Harley had no clue what she was after, and even Duke was shooting side-long glances at her. Then he snapped his head back to Harley, eyes wide.

  It hit her then, what Ember was trying to tell her. She shifted her weight to her left leg, keeping her right foot on the ground. Morgan didn’t seem to notice, but she knew if she waited he’d realize he wasn’t holding the gun to her head any longer. It was now, or never.

  She could look down just enough to see his right foot behind her. Before she lost her nerve, or tried to plan this too much, she lifted her right foot, turned enough to see what she was doing, and slammed her boot down as hard as she could on Morgan’s instep.

  She wasn’t sure what to expect, if he’d just pull the trigger out of reflex. But to her surprise, he loosened the arm around her neck. Out of instinct, more than planning, she reached up, grabbed his arm, and pulled, but it was like pulling on steel. So she did the next best thing. She pulled his arm up, and sank her teeth into the soft skin on the underside of his wrist.

  Morgan growled, and pulled his arm away. She went with him, still hanging on, tasting blood. It made her gag, but she hung on with all her might. Morgan shouted again, and then pain blossomed in her head. She waited to die, knowing he’d shot her. She was falling, kept falling, letting go of Morgan’s arm. It seemed like it took forever for the ground to come up to meet her, and she had the insane thought that death wasn’t instantaneous, that things kept going for a really long time. There were people yelling, sounds of bodies hitting bodies, Ember calling her name. But then sounds faded out, got all fuzzy, and wobbly, and she decided that was the last thing she was going to hear.

  Then she hit the ground, getting a mouthful of dust to mix with the blood. She spit, and spit again. And belatedly realized, she wasn’t dead. He must have hit her in the head with the butt of the gun, because she’d never heard the gun fire.

  She rolled to her side. Sounds rushed back, the angry roar of Jericho, Ember screaming. A shot, then another. Someone yelling. Then Ember’s face filled her vision, pulling her arm.

  “Get up. Come on.”

  “I’m not dead?”

  “Hell no. Now get your ass up! Come on.”

  Ember hauled Harley up by the arm, dragging her under a tree. When her friend finally let go of her arm, Harley struggled to her knees. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what chaos Ember had pulled her away from, but she had to find Jericho, had to know where he was, that he was safe.

  Nothing made any sense for a minute. There were tigers and dust, and through the tangle of fur and big bodies, she saw Morgan. Her stomach dropped, and she sank against Ember.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  In the center of snarls, and fangs were Morgan and Jericho. Morgan had a gun trained on Jericho, and for a minute Harley wondered why Morgan just didn’t shoot him and be done with it. But then she saw Duke, arm extended, gun held steady on Morgan. They were motionless, like some terrible frozen frame from a movie.

  For all appearances, it looked like Morgan and Jericho thought they were the only creatures in the world right now. But she knew in her heart that Jericho knew exactly where she was, where Duke was, and exactly how far away everyone was from Morgan. And his gun.

  Van and Bear were off to the side, keeping the other two tigers at bay; to keep them from attacking Ember and Harley; to keep them from getting between Jericho and Morgan; to keep from attacking Duke.

  This battle had been concentrated and condensed, down to the shifter, and the shifted. Jericho snarled, fangs bared, gleaming white in the setting sun. Morgan laughed.

  “You think I’m not going to shoot you?” But his eyes darted from Jericho to Duke, and back. Harley saw sweat beading on his forehead, trickling down the side of his face. For his bluster, Harley thought he looked scared. That was good, she thought, unless he got so scared he just started shooting wildly. Maybe scared wasn’t good.

  “Just put the gun down, Morgan. Nobody gets hurt, we can just walk away…”

  Morgan swung toward Duke, bringing the gun to point at Duke’s head. Ember gasped, grabbing Harley’s arm. Harley wanted to close her eyes, pretend she was somewhere else, but if this was going to happen, she needed to see what happened. If Morgan hurt Duke or Jericho, she wanted to burn the image into her head so she could track the man down, and kill him herself.

  Duke never flinched, his arm never wavering, his eyes unblinking, as he glared at Morgan. “Look, man, it’s horrible what happened to Jake. But that was all on him, his death. Nothing Harley did had anything to do with that. I might have been there, but it was self-defense.” Duke made a face, his eyes going steely and hard. “I was there; I could have stopped him. I take responsibility for that. But not for his death. Or for his habit. That was all Jake. And you know that.”

  The gun went off, and Ember shrieked. Duke jerked to the side, then went down on one knee. The gun was still traine
d on Morgan, but Harley could see his hand shaking. She couldn’t see if he was shot, or wounded, or what the hell happened.

  “Duke!”

  Jericho hit Morgan from the side, knocking him to the ground. The gun went off again, the shot hitting the tree behind Harley, showering her with bark, and tree splinters. She dove to the ground, scraping her palms on dirt and pine needles. Ember grabbed her arm, pulling her behind one of the trees.

  “Shit…shit, shit, shit…this can’t be happening.”

  “God, is Duke hurt? Ember, can you see?”

  “Can’t tell… I think he’s okay.”

  Their words were drowned out by a terrific growl. Harley pulled away from Ember, and turned back to the clearing.

  Jericho was on top of Morgan, his fangs inches from the man’s face, claws slashing through the arm of Morgan’s jacket, as he pinned the man to the ground. Harley was sure this was it, that Jericho would finish him in seconds.

  Harley’s heart went dead still, as Morgan’s arm thrust up. But Jericho hesitated, a violent shudder running through his big body. Then her tiger scrambled backward, awkward in his movements, falling, as he tried to get away from Morgan.

  Harley saw it, a jagged gash in Jericho’s side, blood running through his fur. Then she saw the knife in Morgan’s hand, the blade covered in blood. Jericho’s blood.

  “No!”

  Her hand closed over a rock, and she stumbled to her feet, trying to get to Morgan, to do something, but her legs gave out, and she ended up crawling toward them. Jericho blocked most of her view, his body sunk down on his haunches, head down, breathing hard. He glanced at her, breathing hard, and shook his head, but she ignored him. Jericho growled, a sound that held more pain that warning, but when he tried to rise, he fell back. Morgan must have hit something vital; she wanted to go to him, to find out how badly he was hurt, to help him. To do something. But until Morgan was out of the way, there was nothing she could do for him. But he was a shifter, tougher than she was. She hoped for the best, and was prepared for the worst.