Howling Mad: A paranormal wolf shifter romance (Badlands Book 2) Read online

  He pulled her close, rubbing her arms briskly with his big, rough palms. “Running water,” he explained. “It’ll throw them off the trail.”

  She balled up her fists and hit him as hard as she could. His chest was warm and solid, and her punches did nothing – they didn’t even relieve her frustration and outrage. He chuckled again – a warmer sound this time – and caught hold of her wrists, holding them firmly. She scarcely realized that her anger had turned to tears and she was shaking with spent adrenaline.

  “Hey,” he said. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  She looked up into his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I had no choice.”

  Their gazes locked.

  The cold water had made her nipples pebble, and they were aching points against the sopping-wet fabric of her T-shirt, which clung see-through to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. She was aware of the warmth and strength of his body, so close.

  His lips were just a whisper from hers. It would be so easy to let him kiss her. And such a bad idea.

  She caught a shuddering breath and stepped away, avoiding his eyes. What was she thinking? He was beautiful and compelling, yes…because he was a wild animal.

  He clenched his jaw, then shook his head, sending droplets of water arcing away, setting up overlapping circles of tiny ripples in the water around them.

  * * * * *

  The snap of fear in her eyes as she pulled away from him felt like a slap. But what had he expected? He’d escaped from a secure facility for dangerous criminals and semi-feral shifters and taken her hostage, dragging her bodily into a situation that would be perilous at best, though at least he could be confident that the people Dr. Atkins sent after them wouldn’t hurt Naomi.

  She thought he was an animal…and she knew he was a criminal. And he was going to have to break a few more laws if he wanted to stay on the run for long enough to make a clean escape.

  Of course she didn’t want to kiss him. She probably wanted to kill him. But his desire for her curvy body, wet fabric clinging to its every tempting contour, was like a fever in his blood.

  He needed to get away from here. Get out of these handcuffs. And get away from her, before he allowed his hunger for her to get the better of him.

  “Come on,” he told her. He tugged on the cuffs and they waded out of the stream, water flowing in runnels from their sodden clothes. Goose flesh flashed over her wet skin, and he had to fight the temptation to pull her into his arms to warm her with his body heat.

  She stumbled along beside him, a little breathless. After a while, she realized he was leading them straight back in the direction of the Zoo. “Is this the part where I make a joke about men refusing to ask for directions?” she asked.

  The question startled a laugh from him. She’d recovered her composure so quickly it made his head spin. She could think on her feet. He fought down an uncharacteristic giddiness, telling himself it was lingering adrenaline. “We need transportation,” he said. “We don’t stand a chance of getting away on foot – your daddy’s trackers are too good. And they’ll be expecting us to head the other way. Breaking out of the Zoo only to head straight back into trouble? That’s a crazy plan.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have been polite for me to say it,” she agreed.

  The parking lot was abandoned and the gatehouse unmanned. Byron guessed that the building was under lockdown and riot-control was concentrated in the high-security wing. There was no need for anyone to be outside apart from the trackers Atkins would have sent after them, and they were – he hoped – looking in the wrong place.

  Among the staff vehicles nestled into the building’s shadow was a sexy black motorcycle that was all but asking to be stolen. Byron grinned and pulled Naomi towards it.

  He pried off the ignition cap with his fingernails half shifted into claws, and twisted together the battery and ignition wires. The motorcycle – a big, black beast – roared into life and stood there throbbing and growling like a living thing.

  Naomi was standing slightly behind him, as though she thought it might leap on her and bite her. “I’m not getting on that thing,” she said flatly. She pulled backwards, yanking on the cuffs that held them together.

  Byron heard baying in the distance. Atkins’ trackers in wolf form. They wouldn’t have expected him to double back, but it wouldn’t fool them forever.

  “Naomi,” he said urgently. “We have to go.”

  She bit her lip and looked dubiously at the powerful machine, shaking her head.

  A howl cut the air. Byron yanked Naomi close. He lowered his head and whispered harshly, his lips almost touching hers. “This is not a date,” he told her. “I don’t have time to play games. If they catch me, they will kill me.” He shook her – not hard, just firmly enough to emphasize his words. “We have to go. So get on the bike. Pretty fucking please.”

  Chapter Four

  Naomi wrapped her arms firmly around Byron’s waist and pressed the side of her face against his spine as they rounded a curve. The handcuffs still chaining their right wrists together left her no choice but to press closely against him, and the speed was exhilarating but frightening as well.

  Byron opened the throttle and the dusk air whipped past, stealing her breath. The motorcycle’s powerful engine thrummed between her thighs, and combined with the masculine scent of Byron’s stolen leather jacket, the empty sleeve slung over his right shoulder, it overloaded her senses with an excitement that was almost sexual.

  The jacket had come along with the bike, and a brief stop to swipe clothes from a washing line had scored Byron a pair of black jeans that hugged his ass and made Naomi tingle all over despite herself. And it had taken Byron about five minutes to jimmy open the back door of a drugstore and emerge with a backpack full of god knew what.

  They pulled to a stop in the parking lot of a rundown motel with a depressed-looking diner tacked onto the side. The building’s paint was peeling and a sign said “Vacancies”, or would have if half the bulbs weren’t blown out and the remainder flickering and fizzling. The parking lot was all but deserted, and with the motorcycle tucked away in the back corner they’d be as anonymous here as anywhere. It didn’t look like the kind of place that asked a lot of questions.

  Byron slung his arm over Naomi’s shoulder as they walked through the door, tucking her under the leather jacket along with the tell-tale handcuffs. The kid behind the counter didn’t even look up. He was absorbed in a handheld video game, and just grunted and held up a finger, telling them to wait. A flurry of electronic beeping was followed by a heartfelt “Goddamn”, and he turned his attention to them, expression sulky and bored.

  “Yeah?”

  “Need a room for the night,” Byron told him.

  Naomi fidgeted. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to drag some poor kid into this craziness – what if he just ended up as a second hostage? She had enough cash to cover the room, but she was sure he’d ask questions. They must look suspicious, and she knew her nervousness must be written all over her face.

  Behind the kid, the muted television set switched over to an outside view of the Dynamic Earth Rehabilitation Center, and a breaking news announcement scrolled across the bottom of the screen. She coughed nervously, and Byron squeezed her shoulder, silently telling her to stay cool.

  The kid chomped on his gum and slapped a key on the counter, attached to a grimy plastic tag stamped with a number. “Room four,” he said, waving a hand. “Ice machine’s broken, no extra pillows, and we charge for the full night no matter how quick you check out.”

  He smirked, picked up the game again and kicked his feet up onto the counter, paying them no further attention.

  Byron snagged the key and they headed in the direction the kid had vaguely indicated.

  The carpet was threadbare in patches and the furniture consisted of a cheap bed with battered springs and a small, chipped washbasin. When Naomi ran the water, the pipes rattled alarmingly and the water
came out in a sputter. The room was surprisingly clean, though.

  Byron took the backpack from Naomi and dumped the contents on the bed, then sat down. He tugged on the handcuffs, trying to draw her to sit beside him, but she resisted.

  “Come on,” he said. “I won’t bite. Not on a first date.”

  He gave her that panty-melting smile and she found it impossible not to smile back, though she said, “It’s not a date, remember, tough guy?”

  She sat beside him and he sorted through the packages on the bed, picking out a card of bobby pins. He selected one, using his teeth to bend it into shape, then inserted it into the lock of the bracelet on Naomi’s wrist. He jiggled it around, cocking his head to one side as if listening.

  “Picking locks?” Naomi asked him. “Where’d you learn that?”

  He looked up at her, as if asking her whether she was serious. “Well it wasn’t at a country club jamboree for society gentlemen,” he said. “Ah!” The cuff sprang open. “That’s got it.”

  Naomi rubbed her wrist, soothing the pink ring where the silver cuff had chafed it, and watched as he set to work on his own cuff.

  His face was beautiful, set in lines of concentration. Her eyes lingered on his full lips, the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the unusual light blue-silver of his eyes, so pale against the inky-dark brushstrokes of his ridiculously thick lashes.

  “You could still turn yourself in, you know,” she told him. “You haven’t hurt anyone. And you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  He succeeded in freeing his wrist, and tossed the handcuffs onto the bed along with his haul from the drugstore. Then he turned his full attention on her, those spooky blue eyes hypnotic. “Have you completely lost your freakin’ mind?” he asked her. There was a hint of impatience in his voice.

  “W-well,” she stammered. “You stole the motorcycle. But I’m sure we could get it back to its owner. And pay for the stuff you took from the drugstore. If you’d only confide in me, I’m sure we could find a way…” Her voice trailed off.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m on the run with Atkins’ daughter. I know your experience of the Zoo is doing watercolors with the well-trained exhibits, but you don’t see the ugly side. And kidnapping is a Class A felony. That would usually mean twenty years behind bars, but in my case they’ll just put a bullet through my brain. And you want me to trust you not to turn me over to Daddy and his tracker dogs the second you get the chance?” He shook his head.

  Her temper sparked. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me. I’ve never understood why you don’t.”

  His smile was bitter. “There’s a lot you don’t understand, seems like. Did you know he had me bugged?” He searched her eyes, unsure of the answer. “The fact is, your father never had any intention of letting me out of the Zoo. Ever. If the security system hadn’t messed up, the only way I’d have left that place was in a box.”

  Naomi frowned. “My father doesn’t keep secrets from me.” Except…she hadn’t known about the listening device. And there was one thing he’d never told her, no matter how many times she’d asked. “What did you do?”

  He got up off the bed, making the ancient springs groan. “Something your daddy couldn’t let go,” he said.

  Chapter Five

  Dinner was candy bars and lukewarm soda. They couldn’t risk leaving the motel – not everyone would be as clueless as the kid at the front desk.

  “We should turn on the television,” Naomi suggested. “Did you see when we checked in? It looked like the news was showing something about the breakout.”

  Byron walked across and turned on the ancient set, flicking through channels until he got to a news program. The picture was fuzzy with static, but as he came back to sit beside Naomi on the bed, they could make out what was happening clearly enough.

  Her father was holding a press conference of some kind in the family room at the Dynamic Earth Rehabilitation Center. He looked grave and well-groomed but approachable – her father was the kind of man everybody liked, and although he’d seemed stressed out recently, he hid it well. She doubted anyone else had noticed he was anything other than his usual smooth, optimistic self.

  Standing to his side and slightly behind him was the corporation’s head of research, Professor Stanhope. With sparse, wispy hair combed over his bald spot, he looked fidgety and upset, and Naomi was surprised he wasn’t sucking on his inhaler, as he tended to when under stress. He was an incredibly brilliant man, but highly strung.

  When she was little he’d taught her about all sorts of exciting things – the constellations, kid-stuff chemistry experiments with vinegar and baking soda and food coloring…one of his favorite topics was dinosaurs. He’d called them the ultimate predators. He’d told her all the different names and described how they’d been wiped out in a fiery impact that had cast the planet into choking night…but always with a serious air and the occasional nervous cough, as if he was happy enough with the science but could take or leave the human interaction.

  He’d never been comfortable around kids. Or, come to think of it, people in general. She was fond of him, but he’d always seemed a strange choice of friend and second-in-command for her charming, energetic, people-person father.

  Byron snorted contemptuously. “I see they’ve wheeled out some of the more photogenic inmates,” he said, his tone laced with vitriol.

  Naomi was startled by the venom in his voice. “What do you mean?”

  He pointed to the screen, at the scene behind the two men. “Magnus. Big, crazy bear turned into a pussycat by the Zoo’s loving care. That chameleon kid who plays hide-and-seek with the wardens – he’s not exactly Hannibal Lecter. That girl who sees the future. They’re the acceptable face of what happens at the ‘rehabilitation center’.” The sarcasm quotes sliced nearly into place, cutting deep.

  Naomi saw that he was right – Magnus, Jimmy and Cassandra were seated in the family room. Cassandra was completing a jigsaw puzzle with a female nurse dressed in a little cap and a crisply pressed white linen tunic. Naomi hadn’t seen the nurse before, but then the staff were probably still scrambling to get things back to normal. Magnus handed Cassandra a piece and she slotted it into the puzzle. Jimmy was obviously on his best behavior, but even so one of his hands had a newsprint pattern where it rested on an open magazine on the table, and one side of his hair was pale green, fading into the wallpaper behind him.

  Before Naomi could respond, the newscaster handed over the floor to her father, who cleared his throat and looked gravely into the camera.

  “As you’ve heard, a malfunction in the security system here at the Dynamic Earth Rehabilitation Center occurred at approximately three o’ clock this afternoon. I would like to reassure the public that our systems have been thoroughly inspected by teams of experts, and we can guarantee it is absolutely impossible for such an event to happen again.”

  Her father had a smooth, assured voice that seemed to promise that everything would be okay. She relaxed a little.

  He continued. “I am pleased to be able to say that our security staff acted with the utmost professionalism and efficiency, and the breakout was quickly contained. None of the staff or patients of the facility were seriously injured.”

  She turned to flash a quick smile of relief at Byron. Nobody had been hurt. She was sure there had been some property damage, but property could be replaced. She was sure this whole nightmare could be sorted out if only he'd turn himself in. Her father wasn't a monster. But he didn’t smile back. He was regarding the screen with a steady, unsmiling gaze. A little muscle ticked in his jaw and he held up a hand as though telling her to wait and see.

  “Unfortunately,” —Dr. Atkins’ tone became grave and the camera zoomed in closer on his face— “there was an escape from our high-security wing.”

  A photograph of Byron flashed onto the screen. In it, his hair was uncombed and there was a three-day scruff on his jaw. The intensity of the fl
ash had washed out his features, and he looked pale and angry and dangerous.

  “Members of the public are urged not to approach this man, but to call the number at the bottom of the screen to speak to Dynamic Earth’s security line. He is a feral shifter and a dangerous criminal who has been responsible for several violent incidents during his time in the rehabilitation center.” He hesitated. “He is one of our rare failures.”

  Naomi glanced at Byron again. It was true that he’d never responded to any of the therapeutic approaches the center had in place, but she didn’t recall him being responsible for any violent incidents. Perhaps she just hadn’t heard about them. She reminded herself that there was a reason Byron had been locked up, and she shouldn’t allow herself to forget it. Jim and Pete had always treated him with the utmost caution when moving him into and out of his cell. She shifted away from him a little way on the bed, then cast him a guilty glance.

  He gave a brief, humourless laugh. “Just when you’d almost started to think of me as a real person, too.”

  That wasn’t fair. “You did kidnap me,” she protested. “It’s not as though—”

  “Just wait,” he interrupted.

  On the screen, Naomi’s father looked down for a moment, as if struggling with what he had to say next. Then he squared his shoulders and looked directly into the camera, his eyes sad and sincere.

  “To my great personal distress, it has been determined that this man could not have made his escape unaided. Our experts inform me that the malfunction of the security system was due to sabotage – sabotage that could only have been accomplished by someone on the inside. A trusted member of the Dynamic Earth family.”

  Naomi jumped, surprised, when Byron’s large hand covered hers with a warm, reassuring pressure. Without thinking, she turned her hand so she could lace her fingers with his.

  “All the evidence points to the inescapable conclusion that my daughter, Naomi Atkins, was complicit in the riot and subsequent escape.”