How to Run with a Naked Werewolf (Naked Werewolf 3)

He gave me an apologetic little shrug, although he eyed my purse with suspicion. I turned on my heel and walked as casually as I could through the dingy restroom door. Swearing mental apologies to any other girls in the dining room, I shoved the rubber wedge stopper under the door until it couldn’t be budged.

The bathroom was a pink-tiled one-seater with a crank window just over the toilet. I stood on the seat, trying to gauge whether my shoulders would fit through. Glancing outside at the unkempt little side yard between the diner and the garage next door, I turned the window crank. Given the ungodly squealing noise it made, I guessed that it hadn’t been used in a while. Cringing, I glanced over my shoulder, waiting for the sound of Caleb the bounty hunter approaching the door.

I turned the crank again, and it gave a bit, lifting the window slowly. After a few turns, it was open just wide enough that I could squeeze my head through. After giving it one last rotation for good luck, I zipped my shoulder bag and tossed it through. I carefully stepped on top of the toilet tank, praying it would support my weight while I slithered through the opening.

I told myself it was a game, a claustrophobic version of limbo. How small could I go? Contracting my body into the most aerodynamic shape possible, I slipped my hand into the cool morning air. My head and shoulders slid out easily, but my stomach and hips caught sideways on the ledge, stealing my breath.

“Stupid French toast!” I muttered, wiggling myself free.

I looked down and realized I was a good five feet off the dirt, head down, with no clue how to land safely.

“This was a stupid plan,” I told myself, gritting my teeth against the pressure on my middle, debating if taking my chances with Caleb would have been a better option than giving myself a traumatic brain injury involving a toilet.

Suddenly, my hips worked loose, and I free-fell. I shoved my hands over my head as I flailed my legs. My ankle caught against the sill on the way down, slowing my descent, so I was able to flop down on my back instead of face-planting.

“Stupid, stupid plan.” I huffed, struggling against gravity and my lackluster upper-body strength. “Stupid gravity.”

“Is there a reason you’re hanging out of the bathroom window by your feet?” Caleb asked wryly.

“Dang it!” I cried as my feet lost their tenuous hold against the windowsill.

I dropped, rolling my shoulder against the asphalt and landing with an uhf. In a few seconds, Caleb was lifting me by my underarms, my feet barely brushing the ground.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” I grumbled, twisting out of his grip.

Reluctantly, he dropped me to the asphalt, and I yanked my rumpled clothes back into place. “What were you doing?”

“If you have to ask, you’re probably not a very good bounty hunter,” I retorted, with far more dignity than I deserved, given the whole hanging-upside-down-from-a-bathroom-window thing.

“Why the hell would you run from me?” he asked, sounding genuinely insulted. “I thought I’d made myself clear that I am not and don’t plan to be a serial killer.”

“I don’t trust you. I thought I’d made myself clear about that.”

“Why wouldn’t you trust me?”

“I don’t know you,” I shot back.

“Well, you didn’t know me last night when you drove me away from a crime scene and doctored me up. What’s different this morning? I just want to help you the way you helped me.”

“Why is it so important to you to help me? You don’t even know me.”

“Well, you helped me, didn’t you?” he countered. “I mean, I was hurt. It didn’t turn out to be as bad as you thought it was, but without you fixing me up, I would have been pretty bad off . . . right?”

His voice sounded strained, as if it was important that I believed him.

Caleb cleared his throat, interrupting my mental telemarketing tangent. “Look, you need a ride south. I am heading in that direction. I need to make a few stops along the way. I just want to know that you get there OK. In the last twenty-four hours, you’ve dodged a random shooting and slithered through a bathroom window for no reason. You need someone to watch out for you.” I arched an eyebrow, prompting him to add, “And maybe you can watch my back, too.”

I pursed my lips, considering exactly what watching Caleb’s back could entail. I would imagine it involved more than just staring at his jean-clad butt, as tempting as that prospect was. His offer would solve my selling-organs-to-obtain-transportation issue. I liked my organs where they were, so this was a much more attractive option. “What does ‘eventually’ mean?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Just a few stops.”

I brushed the gravel from my jeans, considering. All of the reasons I ran from Caleb at the diner were still very valid. And he clearly knew I didn’t trust him, which had weakened that polite façade we had going for that brief morning interlude. But he was part of Maggie’s pack. Every story I’d ever heard about “Cousin Caleb” had involved his honesty and all-around good-guy-ness. On the other hand, he could still be just as ruthless and cash-hungry as his job self-description implied . . .

Oh, screw it, it’s not like I have a better choice. I was in the middle of nowhere, without transportation, money, or supplies. I was up shit creek without a paddle. I didn’t even have a canoe at this point. But I’d be darned if I was going to admit that.

“Fine.” I sighed, gesturing toward the parking lot.

“Are you going to be this excited about everything?” Caleb asked as he hitched my bag over his shoulder and we ambled toward the truck.