She chuckled. “I like him a lot, too.”
“And me?” he asked. “Now that you don’t think I’m dying … do you still feel the same way?”
Cupping his face with her palms, she gazed into the depths of his jade green eyes. “I love you, Damon.” She kissed him. “But, please don’t get shot again.”
He laughed—a deep, resonant sound that made her heart sing, then he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers again. An emotion plucked a chord deep inside her, vibrant and rich, filling her with a calm she’d never felt before and making it seem like everything was right in the world.
And in that moment, she could honestly, confidently say, it was.
Chapter Fourteen
Anna Victoria insisted Damon get his gunshot wounds checked out by the EMTs as soon as more help arrived on scene. He wanted to indulge her, but only if she got her ankle seen to first, and they continued to argue as the hapless technician looked on.
“You’re in pain,” he said.
“You got shot. With a gun.”
“That’s traditionally what people are shot with.”
“Twice.”
“I’m a shifter.”
“So?” She crossed her arms over her chest, a determined look on her face.
He huffed, not believing he was going to lose his argument. But then again, he would lose every argument with her if it meant she would be by his side the rest of his life. “All right,” he relented.
After they had deduced Anna Victoria did not go with Jameson willingly, he, J.D. and Gabriel had gone straight to the Blackstone Police Department Station. Police Chief Meacham had sent out the APB, but no one had reported seeing any black SUVs leaving town. It was just their luck that an officer passing by the road that led to the mountains had seen the three black SUVs with New Mexico plates heading up.
Damon’s instincts kicked in, and he knew that had to be Jameson and that he had an even more diabolical agenda than simply kidnapping Anna Victoria. He didn’t bother waiting for Meacham to act and headed up to the mountains with Gabriel and J.D., with J.D. taking the road that led to HQ and him and Gabriel going up further toward Contessa Peak, the highest point of the mountains. When he saw that man crossing the road carrying something on his shoulders, he knew it had to be her. The Demon begged to be let out, and so he let his animal take over.
He thought he was nearly done for when those three guys cornered him. Shifters were tough, but they weren’t invincible. Only adrenaline and rage kept him going, but if those men had kept pumping him full of bullets or shot him directly in the head, he would have died, and for a second, he thought for sure he would have. But then the sound of a familiar roar came, one he hadn’t heard in a while. The giant grizzly had come down from his den and evened the odds.
Krieger.
Despite everything, despite his crippling fear of the outside world that made Damon’s anxiety seem like a walk in the park, Krieger had come to the rescue.
But where was he now?
“Happy now?” he asked gruffly as he accepted the shirt and pants the EMT had handed him after the examination.
“Immensely.” She smiled at him.
He hopped down from the back of the truck, then grabbed her by the waist, hauling her up. “Your turn sweetheart—nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “No arguing.”
Her lip stuck out as she pouted. “Fine.”
He kissed the lip, and gave it a nip. “I’ll see you in a bit. I gotta take care of something.” Though both he and his bear were loath to leave her, he knew she was safe here. “Take care of her,” he warned the EMT before he walked away.
Four more police cars arrived on the scene along with the ambulance. He saw Gabriel talking to Meacham, and they briefly locked gazes, but his friend waved him off, as if saying, “I’ve got this.” He nodded gratefully and headed toward the line of trees where he last scented the grizzly.
He knew the cabin where Krieger lived wasn’t too far from here, and though it was dark, he could follow the scent. Thankfully, it had stopped snowing, and he could find traces of the grizzly’s scent where it brushed against the trees or broke branches and trampled shrubs. Finally, he saw the familiar cabin up ahead, the single light on the porch like a beacon guiding him. The door was ajar, so he let himself in.
“Krieger?” he called into the empty cabin. “John?”
The door to the bathroom opened and a man emerged, his frame so large, he had to bend his head to fit through the doorway. John Krieger stepped forward, body freezing as their eyes locked. “Sir,” he said in his usual gruff voice.
“At ease, Sarge,” he said on instinct, then quickly, “It’s just Cooper now. Or Chief, if you prefer.”
“Chief.” He nodded.
“Thanks for the save back there,” Damon said.
Krieger grunted and lumbered over to the chair in the corner, completely unfazed that he was naked. His hair had grown much longer and hung in wet strings down his massive shoulders and back, his beard left to grow into a scraggly mess.
“You missed a spot,” Damon said, nodding at a smear of blood on his neck.
Krieger wiped it off with one hand. “There were more of them,” he began, as he cleaned his hand on a towel hanging from the chair.
“More of them?”
“Heard screams.” He pivoted and walked to the dresser in the corner, pulling out a drawer to grab a shirt. “Went out and saw these guys chasing after that girl. Scared them off. But some of them didn’t get away.”
“I’ll take care of them. And I’ll talk to P.D.,” he said. “You were protecting an innocent.”
Krieger
