She knew it wasn’t because he cared.
He needed her alive.
Still … if she left him, he would die.
“Not your problem,” Thea said through gritted teeth and started to walk away.
The guilt stopped her three strides in.
“Oh, fuck!” She spun around and raced back to where he was lying, eyes shut, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. “Wolf Boy?”
His eyes snapped open. They were mostly icy gray except for the rim of dark gray around the edge of the iris. Wolf eyes. Compellingly vivid. “I told you … dinnae call me that,” he grunted.
“Can you get up if I help?”
Conall’s expression was suspicious. “Why would you help?”
“Do you want to die here or not?” she snapped, bending down to slide an arm around his wide, strong back. His shirt was wet with blood. She pulled him up to his feet, and he grunted, sounding surprised.
“Fuck, you’re strong,” he grunted, clinging onto her.
She got him across the lot and opened the back door of his car. When she pushed him in, she winced at his blood-soaked shirt as he sprawled on his front. His legs were way too long. She searched his pockets for the car keys and as she wrenched them out, she said, “You need to bend your legs to fit in the car.” Thea pushed at them. “Now, Conall!”
He snarled several curse words but did as she asked.
Thea wiped her blood-smeared hands over her dark jeans and got in the driver’s seat. And then they were thankfully on the move.
Just as she was turning at the top of the street, she saw police cars and ambulances in her rearview mirror. Forcing herself not to speed, Thea sighed with relief when they veered into the hostel lot and she took off for the freeway.
“How many times were you shot?” She glanced into the back seat.
The wolf looked unconscious but answered, “Three.”
“How long can those bullets be in there before …”
“Before I die?” He coughed and shifted with a wince. “It takes a while … But I’d rather … not wait that long.”
“Do you have a first aid kit in this car?”
“Boot.”
She knew from having grown up with British parents that the boot of a car was the trunk.
“Oh. Okay. Good.” She threw another glance into the back and saw his eyes were open and watching her. Thea turned again toward the road. “If I save your life … will you let me go?”
He was silent so long she thought he’d passed out, but when she glanced back, he was still watching her. “No, lass. I cannae promise you that.” He coughed and grimaced in pain. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he continued, “It would mean breaking a promise I vowed I’d die to keep.”
Thea wondered about the person who had elicited that kind of loyalty from the wolf, and bitter envy flooded her chest with a dark, burning heat. There was no one on this planet willing to die for her because they cared that much.
Oh sure, they’d throw themselves in front of bullets to keep her alive … but that was always because they wanted something from her.
Shaking her head in disgust, Thea was furious at herself. She should have left the wolf to die and now she was taking the chance that if she helped him, he really could track her down again.
“But no,” she muttered to herself. He was bluffing. An ability to track someone with their scent no matter where they were? It was ridiculous.
She’d help him, her conscience would be clear because she wouldn’t owe him anything anymore, and while he was recovering, she’d take off, never to see him again.* * *They’d been on the freeway a little over an hour, Thea’s panic mounting that she wouldn’t be able to find somewhere to stop, when she saw the sign for accommodation.
The place referred to the accommodation as apartments but as she pulled off, following the signs, the building she pulled up to reminded her of a motel. Although it was getting dark, there weren’t any other cars in the lot. Perfect.
Her hands were slightly streaked with Conall’s blood, but it almost looked like streaks of dried-in reddish mud. Reaching into the back, she realized Conall was unconscious, but his chest was still rising and falling. It was strange to see someone so mammoth and powerful, crumpled into this tiny car, covered in blood and weak as a lamb.
The dark voice in the back of her head told her she should leave him, protect herself.
But … she couldn’t.
“I will get myself killed one of these days,” she grumbled as she tentatively patted Conall’s pockets for his wallet. She ignored the rock-hard feel of his ass as she slipped her hand into his tight back pocket to pull out the leather wallet.
Fast as a whip, Conall’s hand clamped around her wrist.