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She was almost back up and running. She had her foot planted on the ground, ready to sprint, when a hard hand gripped her jacket again and threw her back.
This time, the breath whooshed from her lungs as she hit the ground. The impact sent pain racing through her, and just as she felt the hard fingers touch her next, she heard a hard, furious animalistic roar echo through the night.
The brilliant rays of a full moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the sight of the darkened figures no more than several feet from her.
Six Breeds—she knew they were Breeds—surrounded three others, quite possibly the Coyotes that had chased her through the forest. But in the center of the small clearing, there were two others facing off. A feral Feline roar sounded through the night once again. It was followed by a low, amused chuckle.
“Cabal, you’re following in your brother’s footsteps a little too closely here. Losing your mate in the forest? Quite possibly a very dangerous thing to do.”
Dog.
Cassa recognized him then. The mocking smirk on his face, the glitter of hard, cold eyes as he faced off with an enraged Bengal Breed.
Both men were tall, bold, powerful. Cassa felt the tension that filled the air now, and stared at the Coyote in amazement as he chuckled once again.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Dog?” Cabal snarled. “Last I heard you were leashed.”
Dog moved with smooth, lithe grace. A second later a match flared and the tip of a cigar glowed almost merrily, lighting his expression with a red, dangerous glow.
“Last I heard, you had a hold on one nosy little reporter,” Dog growled back. “She’s none the worse for wear from my gentle handling. A few bruises perhaps.”
Cabal snarled again, the sound sending a flare of trepidation surging through Cassa.
“Shall we call this one a draw then?” Dog questioned mockingly as he glanced around at the Breeds surrounding the men with him. “Three against six seems rather unfair odds to me.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Cabal snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Perhaps the same thing you are, but with quite possibly different reasons,” he answered. “We’re searching for the same Breed, I do believe, Bengal. Shall we lay odds on who finds him first?”
They were both searching for a killer. Well, my,
my, my, didn’t that just make three of them?
Cassa rose slowly to her feet and brushed off the seat of her jeans with what she hoped was a carefully casual move. She bit back a wince at the bruises she knew would be showing soon.
Placing one foot behind the other, she stepped back once, then again.
“Go home to your handler, Coyote,” Cabal ordered him coldly. “Or I’ll have you carted home.”
Cassa took another step backward. Just a little farther, she thought, then she might have a chance of actually getting out of Cabal’s sight before he decided to focus on her. If angels were watching out for her, then she could actually make it back to the Jeep and to her hotel without having to face him.
“You have such an amazing capacity for self-confidence, Bengal,” Dog drawled. “Sorry, but I’m here to stay for the time being. There seems to be quite a bit of a mess that needs to be cleaned up in these mountains.”
A mess? That was an understatement if she had ever heard one.
One more step back.
“Cassa, make another move and you won’t be sitting on that perky little ass of yours for a week.”
The utter sincerity in the threat had her freezing.
“Dog has taken care of that for you,” she snapped out, glaring at both men. “I won’t be sitting for a week anyway.”
When Cabal moved, it was with such swiftness that even Dog’s rumored lightning fast reflexes couldn’t help him avoid that fist that planted itself in his face.
He hit the ground with a thud that Cassa swore she could feel even from where she was standing.
To give Dog credit, he didn’t come back swinging. He rescued his cigar from the ground, brushed the tip off and replaced it between his obviously swollen lips before breathing out heavily.
