Page 38 of Kidnapped By the Wolf

Cassie managed to find the road, which means she could be anywhere.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CASSIE

The secondI step out of the truck, I find myself questioning my decision. I knew Adrian would catch me easily on foot, so I hitched a ride with the first person I saw — a twentysomething laborer from Denver on his way back from a fishing excursion.

My creep radar is pretty good, and I wasn’t getting any bad vibes from this guy, but I told him to drop me at the first restaurant we came to — which, as it turns out, isn’t a restaurant at all.

The sign hanging beside the log cabin–style building says it’s a saloon, and there are at least eight or nine motorcycles parked out front. The scent of fried chicken hits me before I’ve even opened the door, and one look at the busted pay phone tells me I should have asked my good samaritan to drive me all the way into town.

Nervously picking at a scratch on my arm, I go inside, and ten pairs of eyes swivel in my direction. Growing up in a pack of truly savage bears, I’m used to being ogled. I ignore the strangers’ heavy stares and head straight for the old guy tending bar.

“Could I borrow your phone?” I ask.

The tattooed bartender squints at me suspiciously. I guess it is pretty weird for anyone to be without a phone these days, but so is being kidnapped by a wolf shifter. “What do ya need it for?”

“I just need to call a cab.” Luckily, the cash I made at the art walk is still in the pocket of my flannel. Hopefully, I can find my bus and figure out a way to get it un-impounded, if indeed it ended up being towed.

The bartender shakes his head. “You won’t find any cabs out here. No Uber or nothin’ like that either.”

“Then I’ll just . . . call a friend,” I say in a small voice.

Truthfully, I don’t have any idea who I might call. There were a few girls I hung around with in high school, but I haven’t seen any of them in years.

My father didn’t ever let me have friends over. He used to say if they weren’t blood or pack, they had no business coming around.

Standing there in the biker bar with no one to call for help, I realize with a stab of grief how isolated I’ve become.

“No need,” rumbles a familiar voice behind me, and the blood turns to ice in my veins.

A heavy hand comes down on my shoulder, and my whole body goes rigid.

“I’ll give the little lady a ride. It’ll give us a chance to . . . catch up.”

Turning slowly to see the man attached to the unwelcome hand on my shoulder, I feel instantly sick to my stomach.

Dane is towering over me with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“You know this guy?” rumbles the bartender, and I realize he’s addressing me.

I open my mouth, but Dane tightens his grip — his fingers digging into my collarbone so hard I know they will leave bruises.

“’Course she knows me. We’re engaged.”

Panic rises in my chest as I meet the bartender’s gaze and shake my head slowly back and forth. The bartender looks from me to Dane, and something sinister passes between the two males.

Immediately I realize I’ve made a huge mistake in coming here. No one is going to help me.

My vision narrows as Dane turns me to face the door and shoves me out into the parking lot. My mind quickly sifts through my choices: run or fight like hell.

Neither is a good option against a shifter. I wouldn’t make it three feet before the gigantic bear was on me. And Dane has a temper.

It seems safer to go along with whatever he has planned and wait for a better opportunity to escape. Adrian is ten times smarter than Dane, and I managed to escapehim.

It doesn’t count if he lets you walk out the back door, I remind myself darkly.

Hopefully Dane doesn’t know how to remove spark plugs.

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