"No need to get snippy. I'm just being friendly."
"And I'm just saying 'Thanks, but no thanks.'"
Clay double-whistled. The BOLO signal--be on the lookout... because these mutts have split up and one could be heading your way.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He smiled. "No need to apologize. We all get a little cranky now and then."
"No, I meant for this." I kicked his kneecap. As he twisted and crumpled, I slammed my foot into the back of his knee and he crashed to the ground, cursing me as I took off.
Clay whistled again. A locator beacon this time. He seemed to be behind the cluster of buildings I'd pointed out a moment ago. There were several routes there. I picked the one across open ground where I could keep an eye out for mutts.
The wind had whipped up again, buffeting me as I ran, making me slide in the mud, barely able to stay upright. The whine of the wind filled my ears. The stink of rotted fish filled my nose. I kept running, eyes slitted against the gale.
At a roar behind me, I spun to see a truck barreling across the open field. My eyes teared up from the wind and I couldn't see the driver--just that the truck was heading straight for me. I ran full out. It kept gaining. At the last second, I leapt aside and the truck skidded past, brakes squealing, veering as it spun into a sharp turn. It came at me again, tires spewing a hail of mud and rock. I dove away and it raced past like a charging bull.
When I glanced back, I could see a man in the driver's seat, but mud now dappled the windows. The truck roared at me again. As I darted out of the way, the window went down. Inside was the man from the train station.
"Did you think that was funny, you crazy bitch?" he shouted.
Crazy? I wasn't the one using my 4x4 as a weapon. I marched toward his side of the truck. He jerked back, this clearly not being the "fleeing in mortal terror" reaction he'd hoped for.
He rolled up the window and hit the gas. The tires spun, spitting mud. The truck rocked, but didn't budge.
I took a running leap. The truck shook as I landed in the bed. The man kept pumping the gas pedal, now jerking the wheel side to side, hoping to dislodge me, but the truck only spun in place.
I walked to the front corner nearest the passenger door. Then I leaned down, grabbed the door handle and wrenched, twisting it all the way around, the insides grinding and snapping. He lunged over to hold the door closed, but I'd already let go.
He slammed the truck into reverse. I stumbled, hands slapping the cab. I kept my balance, though, and when the tires started spinning again, I moved to the driver's side. He slapped down the lock. Again I leaned down. Again I wrenched the handle around, then retreated into the bed.
He tried to open the door.
"Hey..." he said, jangling it. Then "Fuck!"
I watched through the back window as he reached across and tried the passenger door, yanking and jiggling the handle until he realized I'd jammed them shut.
"What the fuck?" He twisted to glower at me.
I smiled, finger-waved and was turning to go when something slammed into my back, sending me flying against the cab. As I scrambled up from the truck bed, my nostrils filled with the smell of my attacker--one of the mutts from the hotel.
He stood in the middle of the truck bed. With sandy brown hair to his collar and dark blue eyes, he was a huge rectangle of a man and had the thick neck of one who hasn't been content to spend a mere hour at the gym each day. The slight yellow cast of his skin and the nasty glitter in his eyes suggested he hadn't been content with the extra boost of werewolf strength either. A steroid-pumped monster of a mutt. Travis Tesler, who'd cut off Reese's fingers--I didn't blame Reese for running. First chance I got, I was doing the same.
"Did I spoil your fun?" he asked, lips curving in what I supposed passed for a smile. "I thought Pack wolves didn't hunt humans."
I kept my expression wary, eyes not quite meeting his, shoulders lowered, feigning every sign of submissiveness.
"You got him pretty good." He snickered as he watched the man still vainly pumping on the door handles. "Bet you think you're clever."
I cast an anxious glance at the open land beside me.
"Your man's long gone," Tesler said. "It's just you and me."
He stepped closer. I feigned a flinch and drew back.
He took a deep breath. "Damn, you smell even better in person."
Behind us, the man banged on the rear window. We both ignored him. I inched along the cab toward the edge. Tesler stepped toward me again. I scuttled back.