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Sanctuary's heavy metal gates swung open as he approached, the headlights of his motorcycle piercing the darkness and highlighting the faces of the ever-present protesters.
He shot through the opening, hit the gas, and tore through the press of bodies that threatened to surge against him.
"Heli-jet is being prepped and en route," the dispatcher reported.
"Any report of the casualty?" he yelled into the link.
"No report as of yet," he was informed.
He hit the accelerator with one hand, felt the power surge beneath him and, with the thumb of his other hand, hit the integrated traction control and advanced speed protocols before he pushed the specially designed all-terrain cycle to its limits.
Thankfully, the curvy mountain road was more or less free of traffic. The cycle's warning system alerted him to traffic and
allowed him to streak around it safely.
As he sped to the town, all he could see were Haley's wary gray eyes and pale, worried face the night she had overheard the plans Brackenmore and Engalls had discussed with the breed attempting to sell them information. All he felt was the echo of the knowledge that there was the chance that someone besides himself and the Breed Cabinet would find out what she had overheard before the hearing she was due to testify at.
He powered down as he hit the city limits, though he still pushed the cycle faster than the posted speed limits allowed.
Haley, with her bright red hair, her soft scent of desire, couldn't be gone. He knew he should have never left her protection to any other breed. Something had warned him, some strange foreboding had told him that her life would be in more danger than one silent bodyguard could defend her against.
Damn Jonas. Noble had warned him they couldn't keep her safe like this. She needed to be sequestered, at the very least pulled into Sanctuary until the hearing next month against Brackenmore and Engalls.
The bastards. The drug they had created to attempt to control breeds had resulted in two deaths in the past few weeks, and they had nearly lost Dr. Morrey as well.
And now, they could have lost Haley.
He couldn't imagine a world without Haley in it. He refused to imagine such a thing. It was impossible, it couldn't happen.
He hadn't kissed her yet. He had barely even touched her. He hadn't yet figured out why she drew him as no other woman ever had, though in the past week, he had begun to suspect exactly why.
He hadn't yet had a chance to decide*if he could risk taking her, making her his, or if he should force himself to leave the situation as it stood.
The hunger eating at him was still controllable. The need driving him could still be buried in another woman. The heated lust could still be pumped from his body, and though satiation was never complete, it was satisfying.
He was still his own man.
For the moment.
Once he knew Haley was safe, once he made her life his primary objective, he would no longer be able to claim that singular independence. And he knew it.
He raced into town, slowing the cycle and easing it around traffic, bending over the padded chest rest and gearing down as he glimpsed the flames that blazed around the library.
And he felt the roar that discharged from his chest at the sight of the twisted, ruined, blazing hulk of Haley's truck. A roar of bloodlust and animalistic rage. Someone was going to pay. Dear God, if she was in that truck, if she was gone forever, then blood would flow.
Chapter 2
Haley shuddered in the blanket Zane Taggart had wrapped around her. The sheriff was kneeling in front of her as she sat sideways in his cruiser, her feet on the ground, the heat from the vents blasting over her upper body. Still, she shuddered from the cold and the fear.
Zane was one of those men in Buffalo Gap Haley had known almost since the cradle. He was a few years older than she, so he had always been a little protective of her. Zane was protective of all women though. He wasn't in uniform, so he must have been off duty when the explosion happened. He was dressed in jeans, a dark flannel shirt, and a heavy quilted overshirt.
He was staring at her silently as she gripped the cup of hot coffee he had pressed into her hands seconds ago, his expression concerned.
"You should let the paramedics look at you, Haley." He reached out and brushed her hair gently off her forehead.
"I'm fine." A sob hitched her breath, shuddered through her body. "Patricia's not okay, Zane." More tears leaked from her eyes.
She couldn't seem to hold them back. Patricia was gone, and it was all her fault. Because she had let Patricia borrow her truck, had given her the keys because it was going to snow.
