Page 35 of Wanted

His lips pinch. I don’t know this man well enough, having met him slightly less than twenty-four hours ago.

However, I get the sense that when he compresses his lips in that way, he’s either withholding something or preparing himself to tell me something he would prefer not to.

My heart sinks.

“We don’t know anything yet.” There’s a heaviness in his words, but it feels as if he’s trying to be encouraging.

I study his profile. Again, taking in his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders and bulging biceps that the T-shirt he’s now wearing does very little to mask. When my gaze drops to his forearm, I gasp.

“You’re hurt,” I say. How did I miss the large gash on his right arm?

That’s when it hits me that he actually was in a fight with two wolves.

Protecting me.

For the second time in less than a day, he’s risked injury to himself to protect me.

You can trust him.

Ms. Cynthia’s words come back to me again. Was she right? Wait, was she a wolf shifter too?

I shake my head and focus on his injured arm.

It’s not bleeding profusely or anything but it looks like it hurts. And there is some bleeding.

I look around in search of something. I pull open the glove compartment, but there’s nothing in there but the truck’s manual.

I reach in the back and grab for my suitcase. I pull out the package of tissues I always keep in there.

Chance flinches and looks over at me when I press one of the tissues to the side of his wound.

“I’m sorry,” I say but continue to wipe the wound clean. “I don’t have any wound ointment or antiseptic to put on this. Maybe we should stop at a pharmacy.”

“I’m fine,” he replies before pulling his arm away.

“You’re not fine. That looks like a nasty gash.”

“We heal quickly,” he says.

I want to ask him what that means, but then it strikes me. Ashley used to love to read fantasy stories, and shifter romances when we were teens. She still does. I remember from what she used to tell me about those stories that shifters are supposed to have quick healing abilities.

“We should still wrap this up,” I tell him. The truth is I’m feeling helpless and in need of something to do. Some way I can be a benefit to someone, at the moment.

Though there’s not much that can be done. The questions in my head continue to mount. A reminder that the answers I came to Florida seeking, have not onlynotbeen answered, but I’m leaving this state with more questions than I can put into words.

Most importantly, I don’t have the slightest idea of where my sister is.

That thought prompts me to grab on to Chance’s shoulder firmly.

He peers over at me with a questioning furrow in his brow.

“You have to help me find my sister,” I say with urgency. “I agreed to go with you to New Mexico because you said I wasn’t safe. I-I trust you…” I trail off as emotion clogs my throat.

“I don’t know what’s going on, or how to make sense of what I saw back at that diner, but there’s something inside of me that wants to believe you. Something thatneedsto believe in you.”

I swallow.

“Just please, help me find Ashley.” Though I try to fight it, a tear manages to slip down my cheek.

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