Wild Hunger

  “If Frankie’s been shot, we’re all going,” declared Trey, chucking Trick’s clothes at him—it was only then that Trick realized he was naked.

  Quickly, he dragged on his shirt and jeans, and then everyone packed themselves into the two SUVs. The badly injured went in one SUV with Ally to be healed; the rest of them hopped into the other.

  Riding shotgun while Zander drove like a madman, Trick used Ally’s cell to phone Taryn. He put the phone to his ear and waited. And waited. He frowned. “She’s not answering.”

  “Try Cam,” Trey advised.

  He dialed the wolf’s number and then waited, fists clenched. When Cam answered, Trick immediately asked, “Cam, what’s going on? Where’s Frankie?”

  “She’s still trapped in the basement with Lydia,” Cam said, distress in every word. “We can’t get inside. Cruz rigged the front and back porches; both collapsed and blocked the doors. The explosions weakened the cabin, and I don’t think it’ll stay standing for much longer. Marcus tried to get inside, but Cruz lost his shit and threatened to shoot Lydia and Frankie if we try. Then . . . I don’t know what happened. We heard a gunshot.”

  “He shot Frankie in the stomach,” Trick managed to grit out. Her pain pulsed down their bond, and his wolf raged inside him.

  “Oh Jesus. Trick, we can’t get in there.” There was muttering in the background, and then another voice came on the phone.

  “Trick, it’s Marcus. Man, I’m so fucking sorry. Cruz paid some juveniles to distract us; they didn’t know why he did it, they thought he just wanted to yank our chains, but—” He swore. “God, Trick, I really am so fucking sorry.”

  He didn’t blame Marcus, he didn’t, but he also didn’t have any words of reassurance to give him while panic and anger were clawing at him. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon. Do whatever you have to do, Marcus, but get in there and get her out.”

  Crouched on the floor beside Frankie, Lydia pressed her hands on the wound on Frankie’s stomach and let out a sob. “Oh God, Frankie, I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” said Cruz. “That was the whole point of me shooting the bitch.” He smiled down at Frankie. “I’ve heard that a gut shot hurts like holy hell.”

  It did. The pain was unlike anything Frankie had ever felt in her life—it was as if something molten had exploded in her stomach. She didn’t know whether Lydia’s efforts were paying off or not, but warm blood had soaked her shirt and dripped onto the concrete below.

  The wound throbbed with every breath until it was like one giant, aching pulse. Tears filled her eyes, and her lips trembled. Deep inside her, her wolf panicked.

  Above them wood creaked and moaned. It sounded like frames were scraping against each other. The walls were becoming weaker and weaker. She heard a hissing sound. A broken pipe? She wasn’t sure.

  Morbid glee dancing in his eyes, Cruz taunted, “That bullet tore through your stomach, which means all the acid and bile is loose.”

  Bastard. She winced as Lydia’s hands pressed harder on her wound, and he seemed to absolutely relish the sound of Frankie’s pain. Her wolf sneered, wanting out, wanting the taste of his blood in her mouth.

  “Cruz?” a voice called out. “Cruz?”

  It was Clara. The glee cleared from his eyes, and for a single moment he looked lost and sad. But then his cheeks flushed and he shook his head. “You’re not here!” he bellowed.

  “Son, please come out here,” Clara begged, sounding heartbroken. “Come on, everything will be fine.”

  The hand holding the gun twitched. “No, it won’t! Nothing’s been fine for a long time!”

  “Cruz, we can fix whatever is wrong. We can. Just come out. Please.”

  He shook his head again. “It can’t be fixed! You can’t bring Christopher back! No one can!”

  “Let the girls go, Cruz. They haven’t done anything to hurt you.” She paused. “Let me come in and talk to you.”

  With a roar Cruz fired at the ceiling. “No one comes in here!” He fired again and again and again. Debris rained down on them, stinging Frankie’s eyes and pounding at her skin—

  A loud crack split the air.

  The basement window shattered.

  Cruz roared again as his body jerked forward like he’d been shoved.

  Frankie could only stare at him, completely stunned. Eyes wide in disbelief, he dropped to his knees. He blinked rapidly, let out an animalistic grunt. And then he slumped forward. That was when she noticed the blood blooming on the back of his T-shirt, and she understood he’d been shot.

  Marcus appeared at the window and elbowed the rest of the broken glass away. “Come on, we have to get you out now.”

  Frankie hissed as Lydia carefully pulled her to her feet. Wooziness slammed into her head, making her knees buckle.

  Lydia bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said through gritted teeth. Lie. The room was spinning, and her head felt . . . fuzzy. “Get to the window.” She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Marcus, trying to fight the darkness heading her way. She would not pass out. Not when they were so close to freedom. Not when the cabin was still creaking, and bits of debris were still falling.

  Reaching the window, Lydia made a sound of frustration. “Marcus, there’s nothing for us to stand on. You’ll have to pull us up.” He hung over and reached out with both hands. Lydia gestured for Frankie to go first, but she shook her head.

  “Not leaving you,” mumbled Frankie. “We go together. The window’s wide enough for us both to fit through.”

  “She’s right,” said Marcus. “Now move.”

  Lydia slung Frankie’s arm around her neck, and then they each grabbed one of his hands. At Marcus’s direction they tried to “walk” up the wall with the tips of their shoes. The whole time, darkness beckoned to Frankie. It just hurt so fucking bad.

  Finally their heads slid out the damn window. Frankie would have laughed in relief if Marcus hadn’t planted a chaste “Thank fucking God you’re okay and Trick won’t have to kill me” kiss on her mouth. Behind him Roni chuckled.

  Cam appeared and literally hauled Lydia out the rest of the way. Marcus moved more carefully, mindful of Frankie’s wound and—

  A hand locked on her ankle and yanked hard. She slipped, face grazing the wall, but she didn’t hit the floor. Marcus grabbed at her hands, and she latched on tight. Her fingers heated and stung from how tight his grip was, but she held on to him desperately.

  Glancing down, she saw that Cruz had somehow crawled her way, and his long arm had stretched out just enough to reach her. She kicked at the hand seizing her ankle until, with a curse, he let go. Elation filled her—

  The cabin again shuddered, creaking louder than before, and the ceiling above her cracked. Marcus’s eyes widened with realization. He tried pulling her up, but it was too late. Just as she let go of his hands and hit the concrete mere inches away from Cruz, someone yanked Marcus out of the way.

  Frankie curled into a protective ball on the floor, shielding her head, as the world seemed to fall on top of her. Pain slammed into her arms, shoulders, legs, hands, feet—even the head she tried to protect.

  Every part of her seemed to hurt, but that wasn’t what made her want to scream. She couldn’t move. Not even an inch. She was stuck. Trapped. In the dark. Her breath stuttered out of her just as her heart began racing like a wild horse. Panic choked her, squeezing her chest so tight she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Her wolf let loose a primal howl.

  Frankie told herself to calm down, but she couldn’t. Her breaths kept coming faster and faster. Her heart kept beating like crazy. Lights flashed before her eyes as her head swam. Then her body flushed and heat rushed to her head. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  “Frankie!”

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of Trick’s voice. She clung to it, using it as an anchor to calm herself.

  “Frankie, talk to me!”

&nbs
p; “Trick?” Her voice was weak and raspy, but she felt his relief down their bond.

  More wood groaned and shuddered. That was when she realized that the whole building hadn’t collapsed yet, only the ceiling.

  “Get out of the way, Marcus. She’ll be crushed if I don’t get her out!”

  “We’ll get her out,” insisted Marcus.

  “Baby, I need to hear your voice again so I can work out exactly where you are.”

  “You’ll find me under a mound of debris,” she quipped, using humor to keep the panic at bay. “Cruz is only a few inches away, but I can’t see or hear him.”

  “Okay, I think she’s directly beneath the window,” Trick said, voice muted. “It’s going to be hard not to stand on her. Be careful and try sliding to the side.”

  “Got it,” Marcus agreed.

  “Frankie, we’re coming in. Don’t move. Stay still.”

  She did as he asked, listening as they slid through the window, hearing the debris rattle as their feet hit the floor. “You were hurt,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Frankie. Ally healed me. Let’s just worry about you.”

  The weight on top of her jangled and shook and cracked. She waited and waited, silently praying that they’d find her. Soon a shaft of light shone through a small gap in the boards, and her heart leaped. Moments later a plank of wood was slid aside, and then Trick’s face was staring down at her.

  Relief flashed in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. “Christ.” He blew out a breath. “Don’t move.”

  “Hurry.” Because the wooden walls were creaking and splintering again. He and Marcus swiftly cleared the rest of the weight from her body, and then Trick snatched her up. A sob slipped out of her, and she tucked her face into his chest.

  “Shh, baby, I got you. You’re okay.” He kissed her head. “We have to go. Look up and reach for Trey.”

  She fisted his shirt. “No, you can’t stay here. You have to come. You’ll get crushed.”

  “I’ll be right behind you, baby, I swear it. Now reach for Trey.”

  Not wanting to waste time arguing, she did as he asked. The Alpha carefully pulled her the rest of the way out. The fresh air hit her face, and a tremor ran through her body. Lying on the ground, she greedily inhaled, gasping in huge gulps of air. Every gasp made the wound on her stomach throb and burn, but she couldn’t quite stop.

  “Breathe slow or you’ll pass out.” With Marcus at his side, Trick scooped her up and moved her far away from the cabin to where the others waited anxiously. “Taryn—”

  A roar split the air as wood came crashing down—snapping, splitting, cracking, and thudding. The cabin literally caved in on itself, sending debris and dust everywhere.

  “Well, fuck,” muttered Marcus.

  “Lay her down, Trick. I’ll heal her.” Taryn smiled at Frankie when he rested her on the grass. “Good to have you back. We were losing our minds out here, thinking we might not get to you in time. Did the bullet go straight through?” she asked Trick.

  He nodded, having already checked. Taking Frankie’s hand, Trick slid up her T-shirt enough to see her bullet wound. He needed to watch as it closed, needed to see that she’d be okay. Impatiently he waited as his Alpha female healed her—all the while conscious that if his mate had been human, she might have been dead by now.

  The moment she was fully healed, Trick cradled her on his lap. Shit, her heart was beating too fast and her breathing was now too damn shallow. He rocked her. “Breathe with me, Frankie.” She looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy. Her face was pale and clammy and made him want to punch something. His wolf paced, still edgy with panic.

  “Who shot Cruz?” asked Frankie.

  “Josh,” said Marcus, hovering. “He’s a crack shot.”

  Trick recalled Cesar telling them that the Alpha kept a rifle as a keepsake. He made a mental note to thank Josh. Right then his only concern was his mate.

  He smelled a familiar scent just before his mother crouched beside them. Her soft smile was all for Frankie as she held out a glass of water. “Here, baby girl, drink this.”

  Trick took the glass and lifted Frankie just enough for her to sip at the drink. That was when Uma lightly smacked his head. He flinched. “Ow. What the fuck?”

  “Don’t curse at me,” reprimanded Uma, her voice shaky. “My heart almost burst right out of my chest when you went through that window. I know you had to get to your mate, I understand you couldn’t leave her in there, and I’m glad that you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t just put me through hell.”

  Completely stunned that she’d break down that way in public, Trick glanced at his father, who was standing beside her. Michael gave Trick a look that said “See, she loves you.”

  Trick simply told her, “I’m okay.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m not a sobbing wreck.”

  Michael offered Frankie an affectionate smile. “Glad to see you’re all right.”

  Uma took the glass back from Trick and stood, almost bumping Trey as she backed up. She lightly touched his arm. “Sorry, Trey.”

  His Alpha blinked, clearly surprised that he hadn’t gotten his usual scowl. His brow creased as he said, “Um . . . no problem.”

  People gathered around, checking on Frankie, gently petting her. When they finally cleared, Trick looked down at his mate and noticed that her eyelids were drooping. “Let’s get you home.”

  “You got me out,” she whispered.

  He frowned. “Of course I did. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he added, kissing a spot on her forehead that was free of dust and blood.

  “You shouldn’t have come in after me. You could have been killed.”

  He spoke against her mouth. “Frankie, you have to know there isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you. Get that through your head.”

  Her eyes suddenly filled. “Cruz killed them. He killed my parents. He was Christopher’s lover for a while.”

  Trick’s brows lifted. “I would never have guessed.”

  “Cruz believed my mother tricked Christopher into thinking they were mates. It was like the Rio situation magnified by a thousand.” Nose tingling, she sniffled. “I’m so fucking angry at Cruz, but a part of me is also relieved.”

  “Because now you know the truth.”

  “Yeah. And now I know that I really wasn’t holding back from you or the bond. I just hadn’t accepted my past because it would have meant accepting that my father was guilty. I so badly wanted it to have all been some big mistake.” That inner turmoil had felt like an elastic band around her chest for so long. “Now that I know it was, I can make my peace with everything. So you’d better brace yourself.” And the elastic band snapped.

  “Brace for—?” A sharp impact slammed into Trick’s head and chest. His world briefly shook and dimmed, but there was no pain. And suddenly it was like she was inside him. Their bond had clicked fully into place, and a relieved breath shuddered out of his wolf. “About fucking time.”

  She chuckled weakly. “Yeah, it is.” Her wolf pushed against her skin to rub up against him, soaking up his warmth.

  “Home. We’re going home.” Keeping her in his arms, Trick stood just as Josh approached them. “I heard what you did. I’m in your debt.”

  “You’re my brother’s pack mate—there’s no debt.” Josh cast the wrecked cabin a look. “I think it’s safe to say that Cruz didn’t survive that. If he did, he’s all yours.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Trick buried his face in her neck as he slammed his cock deep and erupted inside his mate, filling her with everything he had. Even as that familiar peace stole over him, the panic didn’t entirely abate. It didn’t matter that she’d been fully healed for over twenty-four hours. Didn’t matter that he had her right there in their bed, all soft and warm and relaxed. Anxiety still had a firm grip on him.

  Maybe she sensed that, because she wrapped him up tight, curling her arms around his neck and locking her legs ar
ound his hips. He kissed her neck, taking her scent inside him to soothe both him and his wolf.

  “Let go of the guilt, Trick,” she whispered. “It’s senseless.”

  No, it wasn’t. She’d been scared, and he hadn’t been there. Hadn’t helped. Hadn’t protected her. Hell, he’d barely gotten there in time to save her from being crushed by a fucking building.

  She’d firmly assured him again and again that she wasn’t upset with him for not getting there sooner. In fact, she’d ordered him to “give yourself a fucking break.” She didn’t feel that he’d failed her or even that he could have been much help if he had gotten there earlier. Though intellectually he knew that it wasn’t his fault that she’d gone through that shit alone, he couldn’t help feeling like a bastard.

  “You have to stop torturing yourself sometime, Trick.”

  He softly snorted. “Says the person who won’t stop torturing herself for not bringing Cruz to justice twenty-four years ago.”

  She sighed. “I just don’t get why I didn’t tell people what happened.”

  Bracing himself on his elbows, he lifted his head and tucked her hair around her ear. “You were traumatized.”

  “I just had to say his name. That’s all. Why didn’t I do that?”

  “You are not allowed to feel guilty about this. If I told you that a three-year-old pup didn’t name her parents’ killer because she was shocked and terrified, would you blame her?”

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t get to blame you.” He kissed her softly, sipping from her mouth. “You need to forgive your three-year-old self, Frankie. You need to let it go. Okay?”

  She exhaled heavily. “Okay.” She skimmed her fingers along his jaw. “I love you.”

  “I know you do. And I love you.” He kissed her again. “And I love that our bond is now complete.”

  “Me too.” Her cell phone rang, pulling them out of their own little world.

  Trick grabbed her cell from the nightstand and glanced at the screen. “It’s your agent.”

  Frankie took the phone and answered, “Hi, Abigail.”