Noah stared out the window, willing himself not to listen in, though he’d be able to easily make out the words on the other end of the line if he tried.
“We’re on our way.” Slade ended the call and started the Durango. “That was the property manager. He says we need to stop by.”
Oh, shit. What now?
Slade and Noah sat on the couch in the manager’s home. His wife offered them coffee. Noah would rather have something stronger. The scent of fear wafted from the couple.
The woman sat by her husband on the loveseat. “The reason we called you here is to ask about Mace. We haven’t seen him, so wanted to make sure he’s okay.”
“I took him to my sister’s. Why?” Slade pressed his leg firmly against Noah’s.
The woman let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m glad.”
Her husband picked up the story. “Someone’s been out shooting wolves, even in the park where hunting’s illegal. We worried they might have gotten your dog, him being a wolf hybrid and all.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Someone shooting wolves. Did the hunters know where Noah was?
When they got back to the cabin, Slade went into a frenzy. “Pack your things. We’re getting out of here.” He kept his gun in easy reach.
Noah loved this place. So did Slade. “I wish we didn’t have to go.” Hunters? Here? Poor wolves. Or were they werewolves? No, Noah hadn’t scented any of his kind while on their hikes or his runs.
Slade stopped, pulling Noah into his arms. “Now or in a week. We knew the peace couldn’t last forever.”
They loaded the truck, and Noah attempted to clean.
“I’ll pay them extra for cleanup. Come on, let’s go.” Slade picked up the last bag—his laptop case—while Noah took his helmet from its place of honor on the mantelpiece.
Noah stayed in the truck while Slade returned the keys and paid for their stay. His Glock sat in the console between their seats.
As they turned out of the driveway, gunshots sounded.
Too damned close.
The dashboard light painted Slade’s face with shadows and light. He took Noah’s chin in his hand. “I won’t let them have you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
WhileNoahusedthebathroom at a truck stop, Slade made a call, angling the Durango to allow a good view of the door. If anyone so much as looked at Noah wrong… Judith picked up. Good. Not too late. “Judith, I need a place to go. I think someone might be tracking Noah. While I don’t want to lead them to some unsuspecting pack, I need to get him someplace safe.”
Nothing. Dear God, had hunters gotten to her, and he’d just spilled his secrets to murderous assholes?
Her voice came as a relief. “Sorry, Slade. Old Tom batted the phone under the couch. What did you say?”
“Hunters were out killing wolves at the last place we stayed. We’re on the road again. Please tell me you found something.”
“I don’t have a town, just a state. However, suppose the pack we’re looking for is like any I’ve seen before. In that case, they’ll stick to small out-of-the-way places, where everybody knows everybody else, strangers stick out, and there’s plenty of places to run.”
Hell, sounded like paradise to Slade, too. “Where?”
“South Dakota. I’m told the southern part is your best bet. Sorry I can’t give you more than that.”
The southern part of South Dakota. Better than nothing. “Thanks, Aunt Judith.”
“Take care of your friend.”
“I will.” And not because Judith asked.Your friend.Had she read tea leaves or something again? Maybe Slade should’ve asked. He ended the call and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d allow five more minutes before charging in to check on Noah.
At last, Noah exited the bathroom and stalked over to the truck. While Noah probably wouldn’t be a high-ranking wolf if werewolf packs worked like wolf packs in the wild—thank you Internet for the information—he still walked with confidence, shifting his head to peruse the parking lot, aware of his surroundings.
