Page 10 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

Emily thanked the five older male wolves who’d insisted upon walking the hotel stairs with her up to her floor.

“Sure.” Obel Johnson handed over her purse. He’d gallantly secured it at the bottom of the stairs before his friends could. All five of them wore pressed slacks with button down shirts–probably their best. Their hair was coiffed and they were neatly shaved. “We left you some presents in your hotel room as well as our phone numbers.”

Robert Montague, his white hair slicked back, hitched up his pants. “We’ll keep our hearing aids in just in case.”

“No, please don’t. Get some sleep.” She opened her door and backed into the room, offering a gentle smile. “Have a nice night.”

They all bowed.

She shut the door. Wow. Just wow. It was kind of nice to be wanted, though. She tossed her purse onto the hand-carved desk in the hotel suite, her head ringing from her illness and the day spent with Jackson. The penthouse was undeniably charming, with large windows overlooking the quaint granite town. Exposed stone walls framed the space, blending rustic character with modern luxury. The bedroom held a king-sized bed with a dark wooden frame that sat against the far wall, dressed in crisp white linens and a plush navy throw with the embroidered outline of a howling wolf.

Someone had started the fire for her in the stone fireplace across from the bed, the flicker of low flames casting amber shadows against the smooth wooden walls. The smell of pine and fresh linen drifted in the air.

A myriad of gift baskets, new ones, had been placed on the desk and dresser holding all sorts of candies, cookies, and bath goodies. There had been just as many the night before.

Still, the comfort did nothing to settle the storm in her body, which ached more than usual. She felt two thousand years old.

What was wrong with her body?

She had met with two more prospective mates for Jackson, and frankly, all three females wanted him. What had she been thinking? Of course, they wanted him. He was seriously hot and an Alpha who ran an entire pack. Part of her had set out on this whole matchmaking journey to mess with him, but she hadn’t quite considered how appealing the damn male would be to everyone else.

Of course, she couldn’t mate him and abandon her father and pack. So, it made sense to help him. Except now she wanted to claw out the eyes of all three females.

After Abilene, she’d met with Bianca and Freya, who were from packs scattered across the States, both looking for protection. It made sense they would seek Jackson out. He was known to be a fierce fighter, and his pack was strong.

Still, she had to admit she was impressed he worked the mine at night. The rumors of him partying every evening had clearly been exaggerated, or maybe he’d just grown out of that behavior after his teenage years. Either way, it was yet another intriguing fact about the badass fighter.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and answered without thinking. “Nightsom.”

“Hi. It’s Nadia.” The female sounded unsure.

Emily sat on the bed, her headache still lingering. “Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is weird. I keep meeting people who say I look exactly like you, except without the impressive height. If one more person calls me short, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Emily chuckled. “Sorry about that. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“About that… I think I’m going to head back to my pack. Well, my new pack.”

Panic tightened Emily’s chest. “Please, stay. We need a show of force from the family, especially against Victor. Just your existence strengthens our father’s position.”

Nadia sighed, the sound more resigned than annoyed. “Fine. So, how’s it going pretending to be a matchmaker for the hottie Jackson Tryne?”

Emily rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m not pretending.”

“Please. I saw the air combust between you two.”

“Maybe,” Emily admitted. “But it can’t happen. I can’t leave our pack, and there’s no way two Alpha mates can live apart.” Her stomach twisted as she spoke.

Nadia was silent for a moment. “I’ve always thought love trumps everything.”

Emily coughed. “Love? Come on. The guy turns me on. That’s all.”

“Right,” Nadia drawled. “Keep telling yourself that. For now, did you find out anything about Caidrik and his work with Jackson?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? You interested in him?”

“Of course not,” Nadia shot back too quickly. “He’s my sudden and very intense bodyguard, and I don’t even know the guy. I feel like I should at least understand his background.”

“Uh-huh.” Emily settled into the whole sister thing. “He’s not a bad-looking guy, you know. Big, broody, all protective. I see the appeal.”

“Seriously, stop.” Nadia groaned. “I was just curious since you’re there.”

Emily chuckled. “I haven’t found out much yet. Jackson’s pretty tight-lipped about his pack, but I’ll see what I can find out.” Maybe she should take this matchmaking gig international.

“Thanks. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk soon. ‘Night.”

“‘Night.” Emily ended the call, staring at the phone for a long moment before setting it aside. She needed time to get to know Nadia, so hopefully, the female would remain in town.

Standing, she headed into the opulent bathroom that also held several more gift baskets from pack members and took a shower, leaving her hair damp and loose as she changed into silk pajamas. The soft fabric clung to her skin, offering a hint of comfort, but her heart still ached. The undeniable pull between her and Jackson wouldn’t let her rest. Yet every female they’d met today wanted him. Badly.

He’d been amused, kind, and gracious with each candidate in a way he’d never been with her. Not once had he needled them or flashed that infuriating smirk. And none of them had seemed to mind his torn jeans or worn T-shirt. One of the women had even called him charming.

Worse yet, he’d acted charming. Jerk.

Emily snuggled into the bed and opened her laptop, fingers punching the keys as she dove into writing a murder scene. A gruesome, visceral one that let her vent her frustration. Each keystroke helped chip away at the tension coiled inside her. Blood splattered, bones snapped, and by the time her fictional detective found the body, she felt marginally better.

Her eyes grew heavy. Tomorrow, she’d have to meet with three more females eager to claim Jackson. This time, instead of groaning about it, Jackson said he looked forward to it. It must be nice having females fawn over him all day.

Still, she understood his need to focus on discovering who had been sabotaging the mines. By the end of her chapter, her thoughts blurred. She brushed her teeth, slid back into bed, and exhaled as the mattress cradled her. The suite’s rustic charm felt unexpectedly cozy, and the soft hum of the distant town sounds drifted through the window. Sleep claimed her swiftly, though the ache in her solar plexus lingered just beneath the surface.

The sharp, acrid stench of garlic sliced through her dreams. Adrenaline flooded her veins the second before her eyelids popped open. Before she could react, rough hands grabbed her arms, yanking her upright. Coarse fabric scraped across her face as a burlap sack was shoved over her head, muffling her gasp.

The whole damn thing smelled like garlic. Damn it. She couldn’t smell the wolves at all.

Panic surged, white-hot and instinctive. Emily twisted violently, her muscles surging with the power of her wolf side as she drove her elbow back into someone’s ribs. The solid impact made the male grunt in pain—it sounded male, anyway. Seizing the moment, she lashed out with her legs, kicking wildly. Her foot connected with another body, earning a sharp curse.

“Hold her still!” a voice barked, rough and breathless.

She didn’t recognize the voice. Who was it? Were these the same guys as last time? The garlic clogged her senses, making her eyes water.

She jerked her head, trying to dislodge the sack as she threw her weight sideways, driving her captors toward the nightstand. The lamp crashed to the floor, the glass shattering and pinging across the wood.

There were two of them. She knew that much.

One cursed as she scraped her nails against exposed skin. She twisted again, managing to wrench one arm free.

She drove her fist hard into the nearest chest, but a pair of hands seized her from behind, pulling her off balance. She snarled, her instincts flaring to life as she used her body’s momentum to twist sideways. Her knee shot up, aiming for what she hoped was someone’s groin. She connected hard, and the satisfying groan of pain spurred her onward.

Another figure lunged, but she ducked beneath their grasping hands, lurching toward the door. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she sprinted forward, only to be yanked back as fingers twisted in her top.

“Not so fast, sweetheart.” The same voice. Who the hell was that?

She gritted her teeth and threw her head back, smashing her skull into the attacker’s face. Bone cracked, and the hand in her pajama top loosened.

Screaming, she lunged toward where she thought the door might be, her hands scrabbling for the stupid bag. Her spine stiffened, and she began to shift into a wolf.

Suddenly, a sharp blow landed on the back of her head. Pain burst behind her skull, white-hot and disorienting. Her legs buckled beneath her, and her vision blurred as she hit the floor. Rough hands seized her again, dragging her backward as her consciousness slipped toward darkness.

When she slowly came to, she held perfectly still as the uneven motion of a vehicle jostled her body.

Blinking against the darkness, she shifted and felt the rough texture of the carpet beneath her hands. Her wrists were bound tightly in front of her, and her pulse quickened as she assessed her surroundings. The space was tight. Way too tight to shift. Attempting to change forms would break every bone in her body.

Gritting her teeth, she yanked the garlic-scented bag from her head, wincing as the odor still clung to her hair and skin. Her head throbbed, a dull ache pounding just behind her right eye. The blow they’d delivered had left her disoriented, but adrenaline surged through her veins now. Her feet, blessedly free, pressed against what she guessed were the vehicle’s taillights. She kicked hard with her bare feet.

Nothing happened.

She kicked again, harder this time, but the trunk’s metal shell held firm. Pain clocked through her feet. The vehicle was probably an older model, as the taillights on a newer one would have shattered by now. Frustration coiled tight in her chest. How long had she been out? Minutes? Hours? She had no way of knowing.

Breathing through her nose to steady her pulse, she raised her bound wrists and tested the ropes, feeling their rough fibers bite into her skin. With deliberate focus, she let her canines elongate. The sharp points pressed against the ropes as she began gnawing, grinding through each strand with slow, steady determination. The fibers resisted at first, but her wolf’s teeth were made for tearing through flesh and bone. Ropes were nothing.

The hum of the engine vibrated through the trunk. Sweat dampened her brow as she moved, changing her angle to bite through the last stubborn strands. Her wrists strained against the bonds until, with a final snap, the ropes gave way. The freedom sent a burst of energy through her limbs.

Yet her body still felt so damn weak. She had to figure out what was wrong with her. After she got out of this mess. If they’d wanted her dead, they would’ve tried already.

Probably.

She flexed her hands, feeling the blood rush back into her fingers. Her head still throbbed, but the pulse of determination overrode the pain. Curling her legs beneath her, she tensed, ready to strike the moment the trunk opened.

Whoever had taken her was about to regret it.