The kid had tried so hard to protect Cammie.
Golden eyes locked on her hand. Followed her inch by inch as she reached for the knife.
Maya pulled in a slow breath. "I have to dig the bullet out. It's going to hurt"-more than the kid could imagine-"but otherwise, the poison will kill you."
He just stared at her.
"Do you understand?" she asked, desperate. "Do you even know what I'm saying?"
His head moved. A slight nod. Or had she imagined it? "Don't attack me, kid. I'll fight back, and I'll hurt you even more." Not her game plan.
Her fingers tightened around the knife.
The boy stiffened.
She brought her left hand down on his shoulder. Pushed him back, stared at the deep wound.
The smell of his blood teased her nostrils. She was weak and the scent was so sweet.
No.
She brought the blade of the knife down, pressed against his skin. "Scream if you want," she murmured, "'cause this is gonna hurt like a bitch."
The knife dug into his flesh.
And he screamed.
The wrenching sound echoed, shattering her nerves as she worked, cutting into him and feeling his blood coat her fingertips. The bullet was lodged in deep. After a few minutes, the tip of the knife finally hit the silver, then her fingers slipped inside the wound, claws ready, and she latched on to the bullet.
Not clean. Not safe. And I sure as hell hope I'm not leaving any shards inside.
A shifter would be able to heal from any infection and the bullet wound itself would mend at his next changing. The silver, that was the killer for his kind.
She slowly pulled the bullet out. The screams ended-the kid had passed out. Good for him. Not so much for her.
Maya tossed the bullet onto the floor. Wiped her knife on the side of her jeans and then tucked it back into her boot.
The kid was small. Skinny as a rail. Surely he couldn't weigh more than 130 pounds. On a good night, that weight would be nothing to her.
This wasn't a good night.
She lurched back to her feet. Her ankle still bled like a bitch. Not a good sign. When she put her weight on it, pain shot through her leg.
She could deal with pain. She'd done it enough in the past. The question was…how long would her body hold out? Her gaze fell on the boy. You don't know him , a soft voice whispered in her mind. Yo u can leave him here. You took the bullet out.
Cops didn't leave victims behind, and this kid-even though he'd attacked her-he was a victim.
But she wasn't a cop anymore.
She wasn't .
Maya turned away from him. Took one unsteady step toward the door.
The kid really was small. Maybe not even 120 pounds.
"H-help…" His voice. Whispering. Maya glanced back. The kid's eerie eyes were closed.
Shit.
She stalked to him, grabbed him by the arm, and jerked him up. Slung him over her shoulders in a fireman's carry.
She'd been a damn good cop.
Some instincts just wouldn't die.
Maya wasn't exactly sure how she got so lucky, but she made it out of Temptation with the kid.
Her body trembled with every step she took, but they'd escaped.
The boy was still unconscious-and still bleeding. If she could just make it back to the motel, then they'd be safe. Adam had probably taken the SUV and gotten the girl to safety. Since it was damn unlikely that a cabbie would stop for a woman who looked like death and happened to be carrying a bloody, naked teen, she would have to stick to the shadows as best she could and-
Footsteps pounded on the pavement, thundering in the night. Close, too close. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Hunted.
Someone was out there, stalking her in the darkness. Vampires? Wolves? Maya glanced around quickly. Found an alley. Saw garbage cans. Dumpsters. The stench of rotten food and mold filled her nostrils. She could hide the kid there. Hope the alley's smell covered his own scent.
She'd conceal the kid, then run like crazy in the opposite direction to throw off the hunter.
Hunters Maya hurried into the alley. Oh, she didn't like that place. Too narrow with tall buildings on the left and right. Trapping her in.
This hadn't been the best idea, but there was no choice.
She looked around once more, tightened her hold on the kid and-
"Bitch!" Maya was hit, hard and fast. She slammed onto the pavement, dragging the boy down with her.
"You've got his f**king blood all over you-now I'll make you bleed, vampire!"
A man's voice. Screaming with fury. Maya eased her hold on the kid, tried to cover him with her body.
Claws raked across the top of her back. Dug deep into her flesh. She clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out from the pain.
Take the pain, let it make you stronger. She'd done that as a kid. Taken every hit. Used it to make herself stronger.
A wolf shifter was attacking her. The bastard from L.A. She knew his scent.
She'd let him live before. Her mistake.
Maya liked to believe she never made the same mistake twice.
Wolf shifters often attacked each other, so she wasn't sure if the kid would be safe if the ass**le succeeded in killing her.
So she'd better make sure he didn't succeed.
"Don't move," she whispered to the kid and his eyelids flickered, just a bit.
Snarls filled the air behind her and the weight on her back grew heavier as the claws shifted and pressed deeper.
The bastard was changing, shifting from man to beast. To better make his kill.
Not tonight.
A scream of fury ripped past her lips and Maya spun around. The claws raked over her back, shredding her shirt and her skin. She kicked out at the shifter, knowing he was weakest during the brief moments of change. Her foot caught him in the jaw, wrenched his head to the right, and made him stumble back.
Her turn to play rough.
Maya bared her fangs and reached for the gun. Screw using claws and fangs, a bullet would work a hell of a lot better.
Howls split the night. Too many to count and the thud of padding feet shook the ground.
No, no!
Wolves, dozens of them, black, white, silver, all ran into the alley, snarling, mouths dripping saliva and blood.
Too many.
Her gun stayed trained on the alpha, the one who'd attacked her first. The man was barely visible now. The beast was taking complete control.
She could fire at him. Kill the bastard. The sweet temptation called to her. But the others would take her down before the bullet found its mark.
Too many.
How many bullets did she have left? How many wolves could she take down before they killed her? The wolves circled her now. Nostrils flared. Bodies vibrated with tension.
Adam. At least he was safe. And the kid. They'd be all right. She'd done her job.
And for a few moments with Adam, she'd been able to feel like a woman again. To feel passion, need. To feel alive.