Werewolves in London Read Online Free Page B

“Seriously? You be telling the truth about no leader?”
    Vonda stared at him.
    “Well, well. Isn’t this interesting. Hey Jace, the bitch here has no leader.”
    Vonda ventured a glance at Jace, and immediately wished she hadn’t when she saw Sam lying in the grass. She growled. Jace put up his hands.
    “Hey, now, he attacked me. He’s not dead; don’t get your fur all ruffled.”
    “What should we do with her? She shouldn’t be left alone.” GP looked worried.
    I’m fine. Just give me back the girl. You perverted or something? What do you want with a little girl?
    “I’m not no perv. That’s sick. You don’t understand our ways.”
    Then explain them. That should be interesting to hear, after all, she’d been waiting most of her life to hear some explanation of what she was and maybe the ensuing conversation would give Elizabeth enough time to unroll the blankets and jump out of the car.
    Unfortunately, Jace possessed more brains than his skinhead friend and figured that little bit of info out on his own. Dammit.
    “Big G, leave the bitch. We’ll find her later. Get in the car before things go to hell.”
    In Vonda’s opinion, things had already arrived. How much worse could they get?
    Jace gestured at Big G and slipped behind the wheel.
    Big G scratched his bald head. “I hate leaving you here. Wolves should run together. Don’t worry. We’ll come back for you.” He walked to the car and waggled his fingers at her.
    Vonda followed, trotting to the driver’s side. She might be able to open the door and pull Elizabeth out. But again, her plan was foiled by Jace who gunned the engine before Big G had time to shut his door.
    Vonda started running, chasing after the car for all she was worth, mortified she just let a child be kidnapped by a couple of werewolves. At least she had their scents imprinted on her brain. She’d be able to track them.
    ****
    Tom woke with a headache, a constant pounding in his ears. Why was he on the floor? And then it rushed back with a sickening thud, a crushing weight on his ribs. He’d failed Elizabeth. They took his daughter and he couldn’t stop them. Tears stung his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Her life from infancy until now flashed in his mind, each picture generating another invisible sucker punch to the chest.
    The cops. He had to call the cops.
    Slamming his palms against the floor, he pushed himself to all fours, the room spinning as if he were drunk. As he leveraged himself to his feet, the room stopped its merry-go-round dance. Why was the room so bright?
    Light poured in from between the blinds, flooding the room. Had he really been unconscious for the remainder of the night? He heard a motor rev and ran toward the window, peering between the slats of the blinds, his eyes blinking in the car’s headlights.
    Elizabeth must be in that car. Screw the police. If the kidnappers were sitting outside, he would take care of them himself. It wasn’t too late to kill the bastards that took her.
    He ran to the door, and saw the gun case with his rifle standing against the wall. Yeah, capping the bastards in their asses sounded like a great idea. Problem was, the case was locked and damn it if he couldn’t remember where the keys were. Like he had time to find the fuckers.
    Wrapping his hand in his shirttail, he slammed his fist through the glass, imagining it was the kidnappers’ faces. Shards sprinkled around his feet. Tom grabbed some ammo and with shaking hands slammed it into the rifle and pulled the bolt.
    Locked and loaded.
    The door took longer to open than it should have, but then it fell open with a squeak and a thud and Tom bolted through it. His head pounding, bile choking his throat, he jumped off the porch and took off at a dead sprint after the car.
    Was that a wolf chasing the car? Tom blinked, shaking his head. What the hell? He must have taken a harder hit than he thought.
    Legs pumping, he ran faster than he thought himself capable of.