Page 47

Bishop cursed as he stared at the river. His fox had picked up the scent of the human woman. The taste of her blood was seared into his senses.

“Damn, but I hate water,” Carter grumbled.

Bishop’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “I know. I’m surprised I can smell anything over you.”

Carter growled and shoved him. Bishop turned with a snarl of warning. He was at the end of his patience with the warthog.

“You smell like piss and shit,” he snapped.

Carter waved his hands. “What the hell do you expect? Do you see a fucking shower anywhere? I’ve been sleeping on the ground and shitting in the woods. I’m tired of this garbage. I’m not swimming across any cold ass river. I say let the damn wolves catch her, then we kill them and take her.”

Bishop pursed his lips and stared out across the river. Had the human swum across, or floated downstream? Had she circled around them? After almost two weeks in the forest, he was as fed up with sleeping on the ground and shitting in the woods as Carter. Hell, he could smell his own stench, and it was nauseating. They were so close to finding her. When they had come across the faint odor of her blood a couple of hours ago, he thought they had finally gotten a break.

Now we are back to square one.

“You’re right. Maybe we have been approaching this all wrong,” he murmured.

“I am? We are?” Carter muttered, staring at him in surprise. “What do you want to do?”

“Instead of following the woman, we follow the wolves,” he said.

Carter gave him an uneasy look. “I’d rather take my chances with the human. Those wolves are dangerous.”

“Yes, they are… unless we use their connection to the woman. They won’t do anything that will put her in harm’s way. We let them find her and we take her from them,” he explained.

Carter shook his head. “They ain’t going to just hand her over to us.”

“That’s why we kill them. But, that means we’ve got to make sure they don’t know we are coming,” he explained.

“How we gonna do that?” Carter asked.

Bishop motioned to the river. “We’ve got to get wet.”

Carter cursed under his breath before he stared moodily at the icy water. It was highly unlikely they could sneak up on the two wolf shifters. He had read the dossiers on Van Timberwolf and Peterson Redfoot. Ex-military special forces, two of the best trackers in the world, and highly motivated from what he had witnessed over the last month if the tension between them and the female was what he thought it meant. They wouldn’t do anything to put her in harm’s way.

She was hurt. He would use that to their advantage. He was tired of chasing the wild goose. It was time to set a trap and let the wolves bring the human to them.

“Let’s go. The wolves will be here soon,” he said.

Carter started and glanced warily over his shoulder. “How do you know?” he asked.

“Because you aren’t the only one who stinks,” he said, walking toward the water.

The flutter of white paper caught Van’s attention as he jogged along the trail. He bent and picked it up. The paper was crinkled but still a pristine white. The name of the brand and the red letter showed it was from a two-inch roll of gauze that looked as though it had just been opened. He glanced around, searching for any other clues.

“What did you find?” Peterson asked.

He held the paper out. Peterson lifted it to his nose, sniffed, and nodded. “This was hers.”

“I can smell the warthog,” he said.

“The river?” Peterson muttered.

He nodded, unwilling to voice his fear. They didn’t know how badly Jayden was hurt. If it was bad, she might be trapped between the other shifters and the river. His worst fear was that she would try to cross it. The water would be high and treacherous after the recent storm.

“Be ready,” he said.

Peterson nodded. He regretted their decision not to bring a firearm. They had opted for light and minimal. They took off for the river, with him in front and Peterson on his heels.