Page 4 of Wolf Bound

A man said in a gruff voice, “Shut up.”

Wondering what was going on, Fisher headed their way, partially because of his instinctive wolf’s curiosity and partially because of a need to make sure the child was supposed to be with whoever the man was.

“Here, kid, have another cookie,” another man said, his voice just as gruff, but it was deeper than the other man’s.

“Are you sure you want to do it this way this time?” another man asked, his voice younger.

“Yeah. We need to change up our MO or we’re going to get caught,” the first man said. “We’ve got the pickup location; the kid stays here.”

“But what if someone else picks up the kid? Someone bad?” the younger man asked. There was a significant pause. “Well, badder than us.”

Fisher didn’t like what he was hearing. As a former Army Ranger, he had some skills he could use in taking down bad guys, but the problem was if they were armed, he wasn’t. With his teeth, sure, but if they were armed with guns and at least three of them were involved? The odds were definitely stacked against him. And as a wolf shifter, he didn’t want to bite any humans, unless he had no choice.

But if these guys left the kid in the woods and took off to their “pickup location,” Fisher could rescue the kid. Well, kind of. He was still in his wolf coat. He could pretend to be a dog and befriend the boy. That’s what he would try to do. Any self-respecting wolf normally didn’t want to ever be thought of as a dog, but in a case like this, he would do whatever it took to save the kid. If the kid needed saving.

“What if a cougar gets him?” the younger man asked.

“A cougar’s not going to get him. Come on. It’s time. We leave him here and go. We’ll have plenty of time to make the pickup,” the first man said.

“I don’t know,” the younger man said.

Fisher moved in closer so he could see the three men and the boy. The wind was blowing away from all of them so he couldn’t capture their scents.

“Okay, well, we’ll leave you here with the kid and you protect him. Then you join us in Florida,” the brown-haired guy said.

“I won’t have a ride out of here,” the younger man said.

“Exactly. So make a choice. Come with us or stay here and figure out another way to meet up with us. But you better not get caught.” The guy looked similar to the younger man, same narrow jawline, same small eyes, but he was probably middle aged and darker haired.

“Listen, kid,” the younger man said, his blond, shoulder-length hair caught up in the breeze. “You stay here and hug a tree. Your parents will come for you. If a cougar comes, you scream and yell at him and throw sticks and rocks at him. Don’t go wandering off into the woods. If you do, no one will find you. You gotta stay right here and we’ll give your parents this exact location. Got it? If you move, you will be lost in the woods forever.”

“Give him that extra water bottle,” the brown-haired guy said. “Wipe it down.”

Fisher wished they would call each other by their names, but he could understand why they wouldn’t if they had kidnapped the boy. It was safer for him not to know them.

“Don’t drink all of this at one time. Just little sips every once in a while, because once it’s gone, you won’t get any more,” the blond man warned.

“Stay here,” the brown-haired man said to the kid, “just like he said.”

Fisher was getting close to their location, moving quietly, sneakily, trying to keep his eyes on the men and the boy without any of them seeing him. If the men saw him as a wolf, they might believe he would kill the boy if they left him alone in the woods. Fisher needed them to leave him so he could take the boy to safety.

Of course, the boy might listen to the men and decide he wasn’t leaving that spot no matter what, even if Fisher pretended to be a dog and tried to take him to safety. He observed the three men closer. The younger man looked like he was about twenty, his disheveled blond hair shaggy, his black jacket having a red and white striped collar, his white tennis shoes dirty, his shoe size about a ten. One of the stouter men was about thirty with dark brown hair, his build much more muscular. The black-haired man was about his age, his hair cut short, reminding Fisher of a bulldog of a drill sergeant he’d had while in training in the army.

The brown-haired boy of about seven or so was wearing black jeans, sneakers, and a baseball team shirt. He was quiet as the three men started hiking through the woods to the trail, the younger man glancing back at the boy, as if worried about him. The other two men continued on their way without a backward glance as if they didn’t give a damn about the boy. Fisher had to wait until the three men were well out of sight before he approached the boy, a water bottle in his hand, tears streaking down his dirty cheeks.

Just then, the younger man caught sight of Fisher, of all the rotten luck, and ran back to the boy, pulling his gun out and shooting at Fisher. Fisher dashed off, furious the younger man had been watching out for the boy and saw him sneaking through the woods as a wolf, looking like a predator ready to take down his prey. When in truth, he’d just been trying to sneak in without getting caught at it.

Fisher dodged bullets, cursing himself for the mistake. He thought the blond guy would just stop where the boy was and wouldn’t pursue Fisher any further, not when they had a “pickup” to make. But the blond guy must have thought if he killed the wolf, the boy would be safer if they left him alone liked they had planned.

Even though Fisher was running as a wolf, the blond guy wasn’t that far behind him and kept trying to shoot him, until Fisher came to a cliff. For a second, he thought of going right or left, but he was out of time. He glanced over the edge and saw a ledge several feet below. The blond guy aimed, fired, and hit Fisher in the shoulder. Fisher felt like a fist had slammed into his shoulder, the jolt knocking him backward.

Fisher took a calculated risk and fell off the cliff, hoping he didn’t hit the ledge and bounce off. He knew he had a chance at surviving, versus staying at the cliff’s edge where the blond guy could shoot him until he was dead. Fisher’s greatest regret was that he hadn’t saved the boy from the men as he hit the ledge with a painful thud and his vision faded to black.

2

As soon as Kira heard the sound of shots being fired, she was certain it had to do with the men she was after. What worried her the most, besides that they were in a shootout with possibly law enforcement agents, human types, was that they had the young boy as a hostage. She’d begun picking up the boy’s scent soon after she had located theirs and that made the case of her finding them even more urgent. But when someone began shooting, she was worried mostly about the boy. If the police killed the wolf shifters, as long as they were in their human form, there wouldn’t be any problem for the shifter community. Incarceration was the real problem.

She was running as fast as she could go toward the sound of gun shots, until they stopped and then she paused. She wasn’t sure what was going on. No one was saying anything. No one was shouting to the men to put their hands up, if law enforcement was trying to take them into custody. Then a man said, “Did you get the wolf?”

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