Chapter 8

• He could hear her digging around in what had to be her bag, he didn’t have things that made crinkling noises in his. When she moved over and squatted down where he could see her and the men, he felt better. She had her head down and was digging through her bag. Her hair was wet, and she had to be cold, the snow on her shirt was caked on it a few places. “You might find a jacket or blanket in one of the tents.” He offered.
• She jerked her chin up and looked him over much like someone would to another that offended them. “I’m good.” She pulled her hand out of her bag and stood up, turning to look at the two watching them.
• Tripp couldn’t see what she had in her hand but hoped it wasn’t another knife. He frowned, it dawned on him he still didn’t know where she’d had the first one hidden. Also, if she had a knife on her they hadn’t found, why was she still bound to the tree when he got here? “Which one gives the orders?” He glanced back to the men, “tell me it’s not the one you bled out.”
• “It wasn’t him.”
• She moved fast to stand in front of the one with the sore foot and he figured it was him and felt better about the blade through his boot now. In a lightning-fast move, she lurched so she was leaning down in front of him and the man screeched a sound that cut right through Tripp’s body. Then he spotted the flash of electricity she was holding something between his legs. His stomach seized and he rushed over and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off the man. When they were clear of his feet, he pointed the gun toward them and held his arm clamped around her waist. The smell of gas burned his nostrils. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?” Wrestling the taser out of her hand, he looked at the man and a shiver of pity went through him. He may not like the man, but a jolt of electricity to the balls was never a punishment he’d use on any man—ever.
• “Shit.” She jerked out of his arm and paced away. “I didn’t even think of that.” Issuing a low growl, she turned back to the guy that looked like he had either swallowed his tongue or was trying not to throw up, possibly both. “That’s for slapping my ass,” she pointed at him, “when I was slung over your shoulder.”
• Tripp winced and looked at the guy, “you are having a really bad day, aren’t you?” He wiggled the gun in his direction, “I’ll give you a break if you start talking.” He checked that the taser was definitely off and slipped it into the side pocket of his pants.
• “I’m going to see if they have coffee in their gear.” She stomped to one of the tents.
• Tripp watched her walk away and then slowly turned his head back toward them. He needed some answers before she did something to them—again. “When is your friend due to drive back up here?”
• Amari came back out of the tent, carrying a worn kettle and can. “He said tomorrow or whenever he heard back.”
• Tripp shifted so he could glance to see her going to the fire, “how about you come here and watch them, I’ll make coffee.” When she stopped and looked at him, he could see it register why he was trying to steer her from the sparks and flames.
• “Shit.” She shook her head and came toward him.
• When she stopped in front of him, he leaned down and looked at her face, “you could go shift and heal that up.” He glanced at the wet bandage on her shoulder, “Is your arm okay?”
• She nodded and jammed the coffee pot into his chest. “I’m fine.” She looked at the two men, “if I shift now, I’m liable to come back and maul them until they’re shredded pieces of flesh.” The way she said it made him realize she’d thought it through.
• “Fair enough.” He cleared his throat and held the gun out to her. “We do need them breathing for now.”
• She took the gun and just the way she shifted it in her hand told him she knew how to handle one. “I got it.”
• He glanced at the men and silently told them not to move a muscle and then turned to the fire. “Did you hear anything else?” He set the kettle down and then went over to the tent she had gotten it from.
• “Yeah, they know about the new tracking and that I’m—” she paused, making him stick his head back out of the tent, “worth more than an average female.”
• Her expression had changed from anger to something he couldn’t read in the low light but feared for whomever the emotion was directed at. “Because you’re Alpha family.” He reached back in and grabbed a few bottles of water, “they ripped the tracking out of the wiring in the van.” The fact that they’d known about her status pissed him off. He gave them a side glance as he went back to the fire. The one was still swallowing bile from the looks of it, the other was watching Amari and Tripp was sure the expression on his face was admiration. He bit back a smirk at the man’s misplaced loyalties—she was never going to reciprocate that.
• “Do you have anything that gets signal here?”
• He squatted down by the fire and poked it with the stick resting beside it. She probably wanted to check in with her father. “It’s a complete dead zone.” He looked over to see her scowling at the men.
• “I wanted to get in touch with Jesse.” She gave him a quick look, “I’m concerned about the girls on my team.” She waved the gun at the one she’d tasered. “I need to give them a heads up.”
• Tripp focused on getting the kettle on the fire in a spot he’d be able to get it back out without frying his hand or arm. Standing up, he waited until she glanced at him and then motioned for her to come closer. Then he remembered the fire and her new body wash and stepped over the log and met her halfway. “The teams will be fine right now.” Hoping he didn’t have to spell it out to her in front of their audience. They were all together with enough weapons to take down a city.
• Her eyes flicked up to his then back down, “right.” She nodded, “it’s about that time, yeah?”
• Tripp nodded. Unzipping his jacket, he shrugged it off and held it out to her, “put this on, temperatures are going to drop more at this elevation and until we can get you a bubble bath, you can’t exactly warm up by the fire.”
• Without lifting her chin, she looked up at him and he was momentarily taken back by her eyes. They weren’t blue or grey but a mix of the two. When they weren’t shooting daggers out of them, they were likely the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. That thought faded when they hardened again, and he remembered her very aggressive streak.
• She held out the gun and took the jacket. “Thanks.”
• He watched her put it on. She was favoring one arm. It was going to piss him off if she was lying about being okay. Tripp opened his mouth to tell her to go shift, but her words about mauling them came back to him. Maybe she struggled to control her animal? That’s the last thing he needed right now. Wrangling a she-cat that was out for vengeance. Tranq’ing her was out of the question, he looked at the one she’d stabbed. Yeah, it was best to just keep an eye on her and not suggest shifting again—or anything that might set her off. The next time he rescued a female, he was going through the backpacks and seeing what torturous devices they hid in them.