Laughing, he jerked back and dodged the move. Yes, he laughed. “I did not know you were a shifter. You live out here, no pack, no mate. It’s a good thing I like surprises.”
She struggled to her feet—bad idea. Her leg still throbbed with pain. Sensing he was ready to lunge, she snarled. “Don’t even try it, motherfucker.” She might not know the type of combat that shifters often learned, but she could still cause him pain.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but you need to come with me.”
“Not gonna happen.”
He moved fast. Wicked fast. His fist slammed into her jaw, dazing her. “Shame I had to mess up that pretty face,” he said. Whistling again, he dragged her toward the vehicle, but her bad leg crumpled and went out from underneath her. It caught him off guard, and he stumbled as she fell onto her back. Leaning over her, he sighed. “Do you have to be awkward?”
She thrust her claws into his abs, stabbing deep, scraping bone. “Yes.” He let her go so abruptly that the back of her head hit the concrete with an awful crack. Her head swam and nausea curdled in her stomach.
“Fucking bitch.”
A boot slammed into her stomach, knocking the breath right out of her. She curled up, hissing. Her wolf went ape-shit and lunged for the surface, but then sharp claws pressed against Frankie’s throat hard enough to break the skin. Both she and her wolf froze.
“I’m done playing,” he said. “Now, we’re going to get into the fucking car and go somewhere quiet. Somewhere where we can have some privacy. Won’t that be nice?”
Um, no. She knew deep down to her bones that if she left with him, she’d be dead within the hour. But there was no way of fighting back without getting her throat slit open. She forced her voice to shake as she said, “I’ll go with you. I won’t struggle. Just don’t kill me. Please.”
He beamed at her. “So polite. I like it when they beg. Wait until I tell your boyfriend how you begged for me. Ooh, he’ll sure as shit hate that. Now, sheathe those claws for me. That’s it. See, following orders isn’t so hard.” He dropped his claws from her throat and yanked her to her feet by her arm—fuck if that didn’t hurt. That was when she slammed her forehead into his nose. The animalistic sound that came out of his throat was a mix of anger and pain.
Even as her head pounded, she pulled free of his hold and snatched the hammer from the peg on the wall. She swung it at his head. A slight vibration shot up her arm as the hammer connected with his skull. He staggered with a pained grunt, hand flying to his head.
Knowing there was no sense in running, Frankie slowly took jerky backward steps, careful not to lose her footing. Hammer still in one hand, she unsheathed the claws of her other, waiting.
He glared at her, eyes cold, mouth twisted, blood running from his broken nose. “You’ll pay for—” He stiffened. They could both hear the mad rumbling of a car engine and the squealing of tires.
She smiled. “Here comes Trick.”
His eyes widened as he peeked outside. “Fuck!” He looked like he might make another grab for her, so she swung the hammer once more. She missed. But he swore and—clearly deciding she was more trouble than she was worth—scrambled into his car and reversed out of the studio fast. Then he sped away, out of sight, leaving a cloud of dirt in his wake.
Letting the hammer drop to the floor with a clang, she hobbled to the doorway and watched his car disappear down the road mere moments before an SUV paused just long enough for Trick to jump out. Then the SUV was gone, chasing the other vehicle.
Maybe it was the adrenaline crash or maybe it was the relief at seeing him, but both her legs gave out, and her ass hit the floor. Trick crouched in front of her and cupped her face. Even though his eyes were hard and his face was set into a mask of fury, she’d never felt safer.
Trick’s heart slammed against his ribs as he got a good look at her. Her jaw was bruised, pain was etched into every line of her worryingly pale face, there was blood spatter on her clothes, and . . . “Fuck, why is blood dripping down your neck?”
She lifted her chin slightly so he could better see the puncture wounds. “His claws pricked my throat; the cuts aren’t deep.”
Trick saw that she was right, but it didn’t calm him whatsofuckingever. His wolf predictably lost his shit and charged at Trick, demanding the freedom to stalk his mate’s attacker. Trick fought him, focusing on Frankie. Vengeance could come later. “Where else are you hurt?”
“Leg. Ribs. Back of my head. I don’t think I’m bleeding anywhere other than my neck.”
“You’re wrong,” he growled as his hand gently probed the back of her skull and he felt a sticky warmth and one hell of a lump.
She winced. “Fucking ow.”
Hating that he’d hurt her, he kissed her forehead. “I need to get a look at your stomach.” He gently peeled up her T-shirt and spit a curse at the black-and-purple bruise that was starting to form. A growl vibrated his chest. “I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.”
“It was Drake.”
“I know. I can smell him.” The scent of the bastard was driving his wolf almost as crazy as the scent of her blood. “Marcus is chasing his ass.”
“He wanted to take me with him.”
It struck Trick that if he’d been even a minute later, Drake would probably have had her in his grasp right then. That thought was enough to make his breath catch in his throat. “You said your leg was hurt. Which one?”
She gently touched her calf. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. He clipped it with the car.” She almost jerked in surprise as his claw sliced open the leg of her jeans without even grazing her skin. Damn, her calf was swollen and bruised, and she thought it was possible that the hit had fractured something. “Shit. Well, at least the sculptures are okay.”
Trick did a slow blink. “What did you just say?”
“He drove his car in here—he came close to knocking over the hellhorse. That would have been bad.”
He glared at her in pure disbelief. “Your wounds are bad.” She was more important than any damn sculpture.
“Don’t growl at me.”
Closing his eyes, Trick inhaled through his nose. “Woman, you drive me insane.” He straightened, and her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He cupped her chin. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”
Frankie swallowed and let him go. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
“You did it because some asshole just scared you out of your mind.” Standing, he carefully scooped her up. “We’re getting the fuck out of here. Taryn’s a healer. She can help with your wounds.”
“I need to lock up.”
“I’ll do that; let’s just get you in the car first.”
Frankie sighed. “Okay.” She melted against him, shaking as the adrenaline drained from her system. As he cradled her close to his chest, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent as they headed to her Audi. She felt light-headed and dizzy. Dammit, she would not faint. Newmans didn’t faint. “You must have broken all kinds of laws to get here so fast.”
“I didn’t know what was happening; I just knew someone had come for you. I swear my fucking heart stopped—then it was pounding like crazy.” It still hadn’t calmed. “I heard you shout, I heard the car engine getting closer, and then the line went dead.”
“That guy’s not altogether sane, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. He won’t hurt you again. Never again.” Trick settled her in the passenger seat of her Audi and, careful of her wounds, clicked on her seat belt. “Wait here.” He quickly locked up the studio, found her phone, and secured the house. He was just adjusting the driver’s seat to give himself more legroom when his cell rang. “That’ll be Marcus.” Trick dug out his phone and answered, “Tell me you have him.”
A sigh. “I wish I could,” said Marcus. “I lost him.”
Trick growled, and his wolf lashed out in anger, raking Trick’s insides with his claws. “How could you possibly have lost him?”
“He pulled up outside a big fucking building and ran inside,” said Marcus. “I followed him in there and searched for him, but he’d just disappeared in the crowd. There were too many scents for me to find him.”
“Smart,” said Frankie, her shifter hearing picking up Marcus’s words.
“I’ll search his car before it gets towed and see if I can find anything that will tell us where he’s staying—if Morelli’s telling the truth that Drake split, that is.”
Trick closed his eyes, seeking calm. “I have to go, Marcus, I’ll talk to you later.” Ending the call, he slipped his cell back into his pocket.
Hearing his teeth grinding, she patted his thigh with a shaky hand. “I’m okay.” She couldn’t quite stop trembling. “Really, I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. But you will be.” He switched on the ignition. “We’re going home. Taryn will heal you.”
Frankie sure hoped his Alpha female was good at what she did, because now that the adrenaline had faded from her system, the pain was starting to kick in. Her head throbbed like a bitch, her leg pulsed with pain, and the puncture marks on her neck stung like hell. Worse, every single breath hurt, thanks to what she suspected was a cracked rib. “Stop growling.”
Trick couldn’t. When they hit a road bump and she gasped in pain, he swore viciously. “Sorry, baby.” As he drove, fury pulsed through his veins, threatening to steal the rationality that he was holding on to by a very thin thread.
He forced himself not to think of what had happened, to simply concentrate on the road so they didn’t end up in a fucking car accident. But it was damn hard while the scent of her blood filled the small space.
Finally back on their territory, he carried her up the face of the cliff, hating every step he took because he knew each jostle hurt her. She didn’t make a sound, though. She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved her face in his chest as one hand bunched up his T-shirt.
When he barged into the living area, everyone jumped to their feet like they’d been given a fucking electric shock.
“Shit, what happened?” demanded Jaime, her eyes wide.
“I’ll explain everything once Frankie’s healed,” said Trick. “Her leg is fucked up, she has a cracked rib, and there’s a goose egg on the back of her head with a slash that only just stopped bleeding. The puncture wounds on her neck have stopped bleeding as well. The bruise on her jaw has faded, but it’s still a little swollen.”
Lydia knotted her hand in her hair, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”
“Trick, lay her on the floor,” said Taryn, all business. “Ryan, open the window.”
Trick carefully set Frankie down. “Just stay still, baby.”
“Can’t really go far on this leg anyway,” she pointed out.
Taryn rested a hand on Frankie’s forehead, and each of her wounds glowed through her skin.
Trick frowned at his mate. “You didn’t tell me your shoulder was hurt.”
“He yanked hard on my arm to pull me off the ground, but I’m pretty sure my shoulder isn’t dislocated or anything.”
“It was close,” Taryn told her. Then she put her mouth to Frankie’s, inhaled deeply, and turned to the window as she exhaled. A stream of black particles zoomed through the air and out the window. Then she did it again and again.
As Taryn healed his mate, Trick quickly and succinctly explained to the pack what had happened. “Call Morelli,” he told Trey. “If I do it, there’ll be nothing diplomatic about what comes out of my mouth, and I’ll end up challenging the son of a bitch.” And he didn’t want to leave Frankie’s side.
“Morelli said Drake’s gone AWOL,” Tao reminded them. “He might not have had anything to do with it.”
Trick looked at the Head Enforcer. “But I’d settle for ripping out Morelli’s throat in lieu of Drake’s, which is why Trey needs to be the one who makes the call.”
Their Alpha male nodded. “It’ll be done.”
“You know what will happen,” said Dante. “Morelli will offer to find Drake, bring him in, and then hand him over to us, but only if you agree to an alliance.”
“Fuck him.” Taryn coughed and, done healing Frankie, sat back as she accepted a bottle of water from Grace. “He’ll get nothing from us.”
Trick helped his mate sit upright and checked her over, even though he knew each of her wounds would be gone. Until he saw for himself that she was fine, he couldn’t relax.
“We can get to Drake without his help,” said Ryan. “Besides, the guy’s insane, but he’s not completely stupid. He’ll know that Morelli might make that kind of offer, so he’ll keep his distance from him.”
“I agree,” said Trey. His gaze slid back to Trick as he vowed, “We’ll find him. And we’ll do it before he gets the chance to harm Frankie or anyone else.”
Frankie blew out a breath. “I really wish the hammer had connected with his skull both times.”
Trick blinked at his mate. “What?”
“After I broke his nose—”
“You broke his nose?”
“—I grabbed my hammer. But only the first hit connected. It hurt him, though, which fills me with glee. Still, it would have been more satisfying to have caved in the side of his skull.” Realizing that everyone was staring at her, Frankie frowned. “What?”
Jaime gaped down at her. “You really broke his nose and hit him with a blunt instrument?”
“Clawed his face and stabbed him in the lower stomach too,” said Frankie.
Lydia looked down at her niece in disbelief. “You look so sweet, it’s just hard imagining you swinging a hammer at someone’s head.”
Frankie opened her mouth to speak, but then Trick took her off guard by suddenly scooping her off the floor and stalking out of the room. “I can walk,” she said. His response was a low growl—the sound seemed to come from both the man and the animal. She rubbed his chest, hoping to pet the anger out of him. His muscles were so tight with tension, she wondered if they ached. His blood pressure was probably through the roof.
He didn’t put her down until they were inside his room. She grimaced as she said, “I badly need a shower.” She was covered in dried blood, which was no one’s definition of fun, and she knew that Trick had no chance of calming while the scent of her blood was in the air. He seemed to be barely holding on to his control.
He didn’t respond to her announcement other than by giving a short nod. It hurt her to see him standing there, muscles stiff and eyes fevered, caught up in a mood so dark that she wasn’t sure anyone could reach him right then—not even her. She knew all about needing space when you were angry, so, figuring that time on his own might help, she took a quick shower and scrubbed all the blood off her skin and out of her hair.
Afterward she wrapped a fluffy towel around herself and headed back into the bedroom . . . only to find Trick pacing up and down like a caged animal, neck corded, stare unblinking. His muscles weren’t quite so rigid, but it was clear that he was still far from calm.
He didn’t even look her way as she pulled on a T-shirt, panties, and shorts. She was just done brushing the tangles out of her wet hair when, still pacing, he finally spoke.
“Later we’ll go back to your place, pack your shit, and bring it all here.”
Frankie’s head snapped up. She figured she should have seen that coming. “Trick, I—”
“You’re moving here.” His tone left no room for negotiation. “It’s time, Frankie.”
“You know I can’t until—”
Trick rounded on her. “That asshole knows where you live,” he ground out, fists clenched. “What’s to stop him going back for you? It’s not enough that you’re here most nights. He could still do something cruel like set fire to the fucking house.”
Horror struck her at the thought. “Oh my God, he’d destroy my sculptures.”
Trick’s eyes blazed at her. “Could we forget about them for one damn second?”
“No, they’re important—”
“I know.” Trick cu
pped her face with hands that trembled slightly with rage. “I know that a piece of your soul went into every single one of them. That is all the more reason to bring them here, where he can’t get to them. Most importantly, you need to be here, where he can’t get to you.”
He should have killed Drake when he’d had the chance, Trick thought. Should have bludgeoned him with the steel bar. No, too quick. He should have held his head in the toilet until his lungs filled with fluid and the life left his body. “Your moving here is going to happen at some point, Frankie. There’s no reason why it can’t be sooner rather than later.” He made an effort to soften his voice as he asked, “Would it really be so bad?”
She sighed. “No. Look, I understand that it must be driving you crazy that you haven’t claimed me yet; I know I’m not giving you what you need.”
“You’re all I need.”
“But I’m not giving you the level of commitment that you rightfully want. And I know the urge to claim me has to be riding you hard, but—”
“I can wait to claim you. But while I do, I want you here, with me. Here, where you and your wolf are happy. Here, where the Newmans can’t turn up and give you shit. Here, where Drake can’t reach you.”
She jutted out her chin. “I’m not moving until the hellhorse is finished. I can’t. It’s not stable enough to be moved yet.”
Hating that he had to respect that, Trick inhaled deeply and took a moment to think. “You said it would take a couple of days to finish the sculpture. While you work on that, the pack will help me move whatever you want to take with you, including the sculptures that can already be moved. I’ll put them in your studio here.”
“But—”
“I know you’re still hoping that you can fix things with your uncle and grandparents,” he said, striving to sound sensitive. “I know you’re worried that if you move here, they’ll see it as you choosing a side. But they’re not stupid, Frankie. They’re well aware that you’ll come to live on pack territory for the simple reason that we’re mates. You can’t win with them, no matter what you do. I learned that for myself today.”