Malcolm meant to kill him. The surprise of that realization almost made Nick laugh. Had he really doubted it? After what Malcolm had done to Tina and the Stokeses? Yes, he had, because no matter how hard he tried to convince Vanessa of Malcolm’s lethality, he’d considered himself exempt.
He was not exempt. And that was, it turned out, exactly the motivation he needed to dig deeper, fight harder. He clawed and snapped and threw himself into the fight as he never had before, and when he finally got Malcolm pinned, it came almost as a shock. But he was upright and Malcolm was on his back and Nick had his jaws around Malcolm’s throat.
One chomp. That’s all it would take, and the most dangerous wolf the Pack had ever known would be vanquished. By the omega wolf. Yet Nick didn’t think for a moment how sweet that would be. How fittingly ignoble an end. He thought only of his duty. His mission was to find Malcolm. Not to kill him. That right belonged to Clay.
But Nick could not let Malcolm go. Clay wouldn’t want that. Yes, Clay would love to kill the bastard himself, but ending Malcolm’s life—by any means—was more important.
Nick pulled back for the killing bite. As he swung down, he saw the look in Malcolm’s eyes. The rage. The shame. The humiliation. And yes, it was sweet.
Then he heard a shout. Vanessa. That stopped him mid-lunge. Malcolm tried to buck up, but Nick had him firmly pinned. Another shout. A different voice now. Not so much a shout as a snarl of rage.
Clay.
Something hit Nick in the shoulder, and for a moment he thought it was Clay, and confusion flashed through him.
I was doing the right thing. I wasn’t stealing your kill. I—
That’s when he heard the shot, as if his brain delayed processing it. He heard the shot and then another, and shouts and bellows of rage and fear.
Nick had been shot.
Malcolm reared up again. Nick tried to hold him, but Malcolm managed to chop him in the shoulder, exactly where the bullet had penetrated, and it was too much. Nick staggered enough for Malcolm to scramble out from under him.
Malcolm ran. When Nick tried to follow, his injured shoulder gave way. He glanced back. Clay, Elena, and Reese were running toward him, as Vanessa, Jayne, and Rhys subdued two men with guns—werewolf hunters, he presumed. They were still fifty feet back, not much beyond the shop door. Malcolm was escaping. Nick lurched after him but couldn’t manage more than a hobbling lope.
“Stay there!” Elena said, racing up, in the lead. “We’ve got this. Reese? Stay with Nick. Get that bleeding under control.”
Reese slowed. Elena and Clay raced past him, but Nick knew it was too late. Malcolm was gone. They’d lost him.
26. NICK
They were in a hotel room—Nick, Elena, Clay, Reese, Vanessa, and Rhys. Jayne had already departed with backup to recover Tina’s body. Rhys had bound Vanessa’s wrist at the scene. Then they’d grabbed food, and the werewolves were now ripping through it as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Vanessa and Rhys watched them, bemused, as if wondering how anyone could have an appetite after the last few hours. But it was precisely that close call that gave them the appetite. This was a celebration. Yes, as Nick predicted, Malcolm had escaped. But they hadn’t lost him. He was right there, a blip on a screen, tracked by the microchip Vanessa had implanted during their fight. It was the best on the market—the black market, that is—the kind of tech the CIA would deny even existed. And the kind of tech Malcolm was never going to find with all his cuts and gouges.
Elena was in charge of the tracking box. Rhys gave it to her as he took Vanessa off to talk shop, leaving the werewolves to finish their meal.
“If you keep checking that, you’ll start seeing blips in your sleep,” Reese said, as Elena glanced at the device for the hundredth time.
“Just making sure it doesn’t stop moving until he’s long gone.”
“Unless it stops because he’s decided to give up,” Clay said through a mouthful of burger. “Save us the trouble and off himself, unable to live with the humiliation.”
“Of nearly dying at my hands?” Nick said.
“Of nearly dying at the hands of anyone he considers his inferior, which goes for 99.9 percent of the population.”
“You don’t need to qualify that. Getting killed by me would have been the worst possible fate. I could see it in his eyes. He was pissed.”
Clay grinned. “Looked good on him. Too bad those moron bounty hunters interfered. Would have been a fitting end for Malcolm Danvers.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Elena said, stealing a handful of fries from Clay. “I think living with the humiliation for a while will be even better. He knows Nick had him. He was saved by happenstance. That’s going to sting for a long time.”
“Right into his afterlife,” Clay said. “Which will come soon.”
“So what’s next?” Reese asked.
“We let him get comfortable,” Elena said. “Lower his guard. This little tracker means we don’t need to worry about him coming after the Pack. If he sets foot in New York State, we’ll take him down. Otherwise, I’ll track him until he figures he’s safe. Then Clay and I will take a well-deserved vacation.”
“Culminating in the death of Malcolm Danvers,” Clay said.
“And the hunters?” Reese asked. He’d interrogated the one he’d chased and gotten contact information for the guy setting the bounties.
Elena chewed a fry before answering. The hunters were a nuisance, to be sure. Possibly a deadly one. But she had Malcolm to worry about.
“I can take that,” Nick said. “Pay the guy a visit. Convince him it’s not a good idea to put out bounties on us.”
“I’ll run backup,” Reese said. “We might even get Morgan to come along. He should be home by then.”
Elena looked at Nick. “You sure?”
“I can handle it.”
She met his gaze. “I wasn’t asking that. Obviously you can handle it. But Karl’s up on the duty roster. I can send him if you want a break.”
“Nah, I’m on the case already. I might as well stay on it. Compared to hunting Malcolm, this should be a breeze.”
“Famous last words,” Clay said.
Nick laughed, and they continued plowing through the meal.
Malcolm had indeed vacated the state. Heading west. Far west. Licking his wounds. Clay and Elena had already left, eager to get back before the kids returned that evening.
Nick was riding back with Reese. First, they dropped Rhys and Vanessa off at the airport. Nick hadn’t had a moment alone with Vanessa since that morning, so he accompanied her into the terminal, carrying her bag on his uninjured shoulder. Once inside, Rhys went off to buy the tickets.
“You’re going to stop at Stonehaven, right?” Vanessa said. “Let Jeremy take a look at your shoulder when he gets home tonight?”
“I am, though I’m sure he’ll say that Rhys’s first-aid job is all it needs. That and some rest. Werewolves heal fast.”
She nodded and hoisted her purse with her good arm. “Okay …”
“I’d like to see you again.”
She smiled. “To cash that rain check?”
He laughed. “No. Well, yes, but I’d just … I’d like to see you again.”
“I could come along and help you fix this werewolf bounty mess.”