Page 24 of Scout’s Honor

Dallas drove slowly through the small town of Turner's Mill, feeling an urgent need to hurry. His windshield wipers worked rhythmically. The sun was almost down, and his lights caught a small sedan blowing through the stop sign at the intersection ahead of him. The car was lit up from the inside, glowing blue, driving erratically.

(follow)

Dallas was already following. He paid attention, realizing he was being led by Instinct.

There were two people in the car—a big man in the passenger seat, leaning toward the driver, yelling, and a woman with long brown hair, driving. Even without seeing her face, he knew it was the lawyer, Bonhi Candor.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Dallas growled.

The woman had to be a switch, no matter what Jameson said, and it was Dallas' job as a shifter and responsibility as a man to protect her or at least make sure she was okay. He sped up.

They exited the small town and the road opened up. The man yelled something at the woman, and she shrank in her seat, then the car accelerated.

Dallas sped up also and pulled around beside the car, edging his speed up. The road was open and they seemed to be the only ones on it for miles. He pulled alongside, his only thoughts on protecting Bonhi Candor.

The face of the man in the passenger seat was contorted in rage, and the man himself, was blurry.

Bonhi looked in the rearview, and then watched the car come up alongside, while the gun dug painfully into her ribs, and her abductor sweated all over her.

She had a rescuer. He came up fast in a tan sedan. Their eyes met. She realized she’d seen him before, days ago, at the courthouse. He’d opened the door for her. He’d been dangerously attractive, and Bonhi had known better than to look at him a second time. She was way too busy getting her law practice running smoothly to let some guy walk into her life and break her heart.

Her sweaty kidnapper jabbed the gun in her side, but Bonhi barely felt it as she stared at her attempted-rescuer, unable to focus on anything but him, and keeping the car on the road.

Sweaty kidnapper raised the gun and fired out Bonhi’s window at the car alongside, shattering the window. Bonhi screamed and swerved into the guardrail. The car hit the guardrail and bounced the other way. Bonhi overcorrected and hit the guardrail again, this time going over it.

Her car hit the weeds on the other side, and Bonhi was pulled tight against her seatbelt, while her kidnapper was thrown into her, his head hitting her shoulder, his gun hand ricocheting off the dash. The car came to a stop.

Bonhi craned her neck, looking for her rescuer, praying he hadn’t been shot.

Dallas slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop on the side of the highway, not stopping to spare a glance at the bullet hole in his side window. He’d watched the car go over the guardrail with his heart in his throat. He threw the car in park and jumped out into the rain, running for the other car, hoping the woman was okay, and the man was knocked out.

He leapt over the guardrail and ran to the car, straight to the passenger side, where the man was bellowing something and the woman had her arms up over her head, defensively.

Dallas ripped the door open and yanked the guy out by his neck. Something socked into his gut.

POP.

He barely registered the sound, but the visceral pain that ripped through his body told him exactly what had happened. He was shot. Again. Memories threatened. Dallas’ throat tightened and fear clamped down on him.

Blue light from the woman swarmed him, feeling warm and alive, dropping Dallas into a mental slowdown that he’d never found the last time he’d been shot. Last time it had been chaotic, and awful, and he’d never even considered shifting in the moment. His Lieutenant had been right next to him, yelling for the medic, his buddies had been shooting non-stop all around him—

Now, there were only the three of them on that empty road, and time seemed to bend in his favor. He knew exactly what to do. He clapped his hands to the wound, then dropped into the grass on his butt, tucked his bad leg into his chest and held onto the prosthesis, then backwards somersaulted down the incline into the deep, wet foliage. He shifted into his jaguar, feeling his strength return as the pain receded. He shifted back into a man and jumped to his feet, heading back out to fight. The sun was almost all the way down, and it was dark, but Dallas could see easily, because of Bonhi’s blue glow.

The man dragged Bonhi toward the road and she tried to dig her heels in but couldn’t stop their movement. Dallas growled and went after them. His prosthesis caught on something and he tugged it free. It slipped on a rock and made a screeching noise. The man turned. He pointed the gun at Dallas. Bonhi screamed.

POP! Dallas was shot again! He roared in pain and his hand went to his opposite shoulder. The impact carried him back and he shifted as soon as his back hit the ground, anger consuming him. This time, he stayed a jaguar, and instead of going through the underbrush, he crept under it, babying his prosthesis.

He couldn’t afford it to break or slip.

His life was on the line, and the pretty lawyer’s was, too.

15—Fight of his Life

Dallas slunk low, until he was close to the guy. They were about the same size as men, and Dallas had a few advantages, and one big disadvantage, but something told him he was going to win this fight. Maybe it was the way the pretty lawyer’s blue glow flowed onto him, seeming to be working with him in some way.

“Dumb bitch,” the guy muttered, and he did something that made Bonhi yelp.

Dallas exploded into a man, leapt forward several feet, and grabbed the guy around the shoulders, whirling him around. He grabbed the gun barrel and stock and wrenched it violently, breaking the guy’s fingers. The gun shot with a flat POP and the bullet tore through Dallas’ upper arm. Blood arced, spraying them all. Dallas used his weight and his other hand and wrenched the gun farther. The guy bellowed and swung around, falling on Dallas, but Dallas moved to the side and twisted the gun out of the guy’s injured grip, then moved away, between the guy and Bonhi. Blood leaked freely down his arm, making the elbow warm.