Wolf Rising (SWAT: Special Wolf Alpha Team #8) Page 5

  Selena lay back on the pillow and replayed the moments after the cop had saved her life. Getting tackled by a guy who probably outweighed her by over a hundred pounds had definitely hurt, but getting shot would have been worse.

  Maybe she’d gotten a concussion then. That would certainly explain the confusion and blurry vision, along with the memory of how the impossibly handsome dark-skinned cop had so easily picked her up and carried her out of the classroom like she was a kitten.

  Then there was the blood. The skewing of reality that came with a concussion might also explain all the blood she’d been covered in. Or at least why she couldn’t remember where it had come from.

  She’d first noticed it in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. When the paramedic—Trent—had pushed up her sweater to check her for injuries, she’d told him she hadn’t been injured. He’d paused, then said the least calming phrase she’d ever heard in her life.

  “Ma’am, please don’t be alarmed, but you’re bleeding.”

  Yeah, that hadn’t worked. She’d freaked out when she realized her sweater and slacks were covered in blood. They’d quickly figured out that the blood wasn’t hers, which had only upset her more, because she couldn’t remember where it had come from.

  “Was the cop who carried me out wounded?” she’d asked, inexplicably frantic at the thought.

  The idea that he might have been shot was simply too painful to consider.

  “No way. Not with the way he was carrying you,” Trent said. “He definitely wasn’t hurt. He would have said something if he was.”

  Trent had suggested it might be Pablo’s blood, but that hadn’t seemed right, either. Even as addled as she was, Selena was sure Pablo hadn’t been anywhere near her after the shooting started. The rest of her students had been even farther away. There didn’t seem to be any explanation for where the blood had come from.

  Selena was still sorting through the limited possibilities while waiting for the doctor to come in when a tall, slim redhead with fair skin and freckles came into the room. Rebecca Young had a big gym bag in her hand that Selena prayed held the jeans and top she’d called and asked her friend and fellow teacher to bring, but before she could say anything, Becca charged the bed and hugged her fiercely.

  “I was so scared when I saw them bringing you out on that gurney.” Tears welled up in Becca’s green eyes. “I thought Pablo killed you.”

  Selena returned Becca’s hug, trying to comfort the woman who’d become her best friend over the past five years they’d been teaching together. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”

  “But you were bleeding.” Becca pulled back a little to look at Selena, making a face that suggested she wasn’t sure Selena was telling the truth. “I saw it from where I was standing on the far side of the parking lot.”

  Selena smiled. “It wasn’t my blood.”

  Becca eyed her doubtfully for a moment, then sighed in relief. Her expression quickly turned serious again as she took in the medical equipment around the bed. “If it wasn’t your blood and you’re not hurt, then why do they have you hooked up to all this stuff?”

  Selena waved her hand. “It’s nothing. The doctor is concerned that my pulse and blood pressure are a little high. He’s monitoring it. That’s all.”

  Becca looked like she wanted to throw a BS flag on that, but after a few moments, she finally relaxed. “After the day you’ve had, I’d be shocked if your blood pressure wasn’t high. I know mine is, and all I had to put up with was seeing Pablo walk into the school showing off that gun.”

  Selena blinked. “You saw Pablo before he got to my classroom?”

  “Yeah, I saw him and knew he was up to no good. I considered finding the nearest fire alarm and pulling that but was worried the commotion would provoke him to do something rash. Instead, I ran straight to the office and told Eva. She called the police, then I helped her and the other teachers evacuate the school.”

  Selena smiled. Hearing Becca talk so casually about the best way to handle an armed intruder at the school, then evacuating students for their own safety, it was difficult to believe she’d grown up in the ritzy University Park zip code with a family that had made its fortune in the oil business. It was even harder to believe the only reason Becca had started teaching at Terrace Grove was because she’d refused to let her family pay for her college education.

  The school was part of the state’s student loan forgiveness program, and Becca had once told her that she’d only planned to stay at Terrace Grove long enough to get some of her loans paid off. But then she’d fallen in love with the challenge of teaching kids who really, really needed her. Five years later, here she was talking about guns and clearing the school like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Selena was about to point that fact out, but Becca interrupted her. “I heard your students talking after the shooting. They said that big cop threw himself in front of you to save your life, then carried you out in his arms like a puppy. Is that true?”

  “Yes, he saved my life,” she said, smiling again. “Though I don’t know if I agree with the last part. The details are a bit blurry, but I’m pretty sure he carried me like a person, not a puppy.”

  Becca laughed. “I saw him coming out after the paramedics loaded you into the ambulance. He certainly seemed big enough to pick you up like a puppy. Hell, he looked big enough to pick up the ambulance.”

  Selena thought back, remembering what it had felt like to be in his muscular arms. She’d felt safe there, like nothing could hurt her.

  “He’s definitely a big man,” she admitted. “Strong, but gentle, too.”

  Her friend’s eyes danced. “Sounds like the details aren’t so blurry after all.”

  Maybe they weren’t. In fact, she distinctly remembered gazing into his beautiful blue-gray eyes when he’d set her down on the gurney and feeling the strangest sensation she’d ever experienced. In some way, it was like there was a part of her deep inside that recognized the cop as special. She didn’t understand it, and she couldn’t explain it, but it was still there even now.

  “Like I said, I was all the way across the parking lot when I saw him,” Becca continued, a smile curving her lips. “But even from that distance, I could tell he was hot. If tall, dark-skinned, handsome, incredibly well-muscled men are your thing, I mean.”

  “Aren’t they everybody’s thing?” Selena asked with a laugh.

  Okay, truthfully, she giggled. But that was because Becca brought it out in her, always getting her to comment on guys they saw, asking if she’d swipe right or left on them.

  Becca grinned. “So, what’s his name?”

  Selena stared at her friend for several long moments, at a complete loss for words as she pictured the man who’d saved her. While she might know every line and curve of his face, she was stunned to realize she had no clue what his name was. In all the time she’d been in his arms, she’d never even considered looking at the name tag on his uniform—if there was one—much less asking what it was.

  “You don’t know his name, do you?” Becca asked.

  Selena shook her head. “Things were so crazy after the shooting, and I really wasn’t in a condition to talk. Then by the time I was…well…it was too late. I was already in the ambulance on the way here. The guy risked his life for me. I think I should at least thank him.”

  “It shouldn’t be that hard to track him down.” Still smiling, Becca mimicked dialing a phone and holding it up to her ear. “Hello, Dallas PD? This is Selena Rosa. I was rescued by an incredibly attractive, muscular, dark-skinned Adonis from your SWAT unit who likely makes a habit of saving damsels in distress. Could I get his name and number so I can thank him in person?”

  “That’s all I have to do, huh?”

  “Sure.” Becca shrugged. “How many guys like him could they have working there?”

  Selena had to agree with her friend on that. The man would definitely stand out in a crowd. But while she honestly wanted to thank him fo
r what he’d done, she couldn’t really see herself calling the police department and asking for his name and number.

  “If you get his contact info in time, maybe you could bring him as your date when you go out with Scott and me,” Becca said, the words coming out in a tone just a bit too nonchalant. “We’re going to the club on Wednesday, remember?”

  At first, Selena was worried maybe Dr. Pham was right about her having a concussion. She didn’t have any idea what her friend was talking about. But then she remembered a conversation she and Becca had had last week in the break room about how disappointed her parents were with her relationship status.

  “Hold on. You’re not serious, are you?” Selena sat up so quickly, she was worried she’d get dizzy. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. “You’re really going on the blind date your parents set up for you?”

  Becca winced. “You don’t have to make it sound so horrible. They’re just concerned because I haven’t met anyone yet and that none of the men I date seem to be interested in long-term relationships. They’re worried their dreams of spoiling their future grandkids are going to disappear in a haze of dull, infrequent, meaningless first dates.”

  Selena sighed. She knew what Becca was saying. Finding a good man in this town was tough, but finding one when you spent almost every night grading papers, writing lesson plans, or checking in on troubled students made it even harder.

  “Hey, I’m not throwing rocks,” she said, holding up her hands. “My social life is too crappy for me to even consider that. But still, going out with a guy your parents found on a dating site? I mean, have you even talked with him yet?”

  Becca shook her head. “We haven’t talked, but we’ve texted. His name is Scott Llewellyn and he’s a tax accountant. He seems nice, and considering how classy my last few dates have been, I’m willing to give nice a chance.”

  “You think he’s nice?” Selena said dubiously. “But you still want me to go with you?”

  Her friend gave her a sheepish look. “If you don’t mind. I mean, he might be great, but I can’t help remembering that documentary I saw on Jeffrey Dahmer where all his neighbors described him as nice. I think I’d like to have some backup with me when I first meet this guy, just in case.”

  Selena couldn’t fault her friend for that. “Okay, I’ll go. But no promises about bringing the cop with me—if I even find him. He could be married for all I know.”

  They were still planning their midweek date when the doctor showed up. He checked Selena’s vitals again, flicked his flashlight in her eyes a few times, and asked how her head was feeling. Selena said she felt fine with no lingering effects from the attack at all. That wasn’t exactly true. She still felt really out of it. But she wasn’t going to mention that to him.

  After seeing that her pulse, blood pressure, and temperature had dropped to relatively normal levels, he declared she could leave. Selena immediately yanked the blanket off and got out of bed, almost hanging herself with all the wires attached to her. Dr. Pham quickly stepped forward to put a restraining hand on her arm, then unhooked her from the equipment.

  “Your vitals are better, Ms. Rosa,” he said. “But you’ve been through a major traumatic event. You’re going to need to take it easy for the next week or two.”

  Selena nodded and promised she would. After a lengthy lecture on getting some counseling for post-traumatic stress, he sent the nurse back in with the necessary paperwork for Selena to sign. The moment she was done, she took the clothes Becca had brought and quickly put them on, then got the hell out of there. She appreciated the doctor’s concern, but she hated hospitals, and other than being a little woozy, she felt fine. Besides, she had a lot of stuff to do.

  Even though she wasn’t looking forward to it, the first thing on the list was to go back to her classroom and see how much damage had been done. That place wasn’t just her sanctuary. It was her students’, too. After everything that had happened today, her kids were going to need the feeling of safety now more than ever.

  * * *

  “This can’t wait until later?” Brooks asked.

  He had to work hard to keep the anger out of his voice as he followed Zane toward the front of the admin building at the SWAT compound. In the bullpen, the rest of the Pack was discussing teammate Max Lowry’s last-minute wedding plans. The SWAT werewolf and his soul mate, Lana Mason, were getting married that weekend after knowing each other barely a month. Finding The One , that person who loved and accepted you for being a werewolf, sounded great to Brooks, but still—soul mate or not—getting married after a month together struck him as a little fast.

  Zane shook his head. “No. We’ve been trying to get that damn hunter to talk to us for nearly a month with no luck. His lawyer called and said his client has agreed to a meeting, but only with the two of us, and only if we do it tonight.”

  Brooks bit back a growl. For hours, he’d been trying to slip away to the hospital so he could check on Selena to make sure she was okay. But everything involving the classroom raid, from clearing all the students out of the school to waiting for the K9 teams to check the place for explosives, had taken ten times longer than it should have. Then when he’d gotten back here with Diego to wrap up the paperwork, he’d found Zane waiting for him so they could go down to the Coffield Unit prison. The place was almost two hours away. Visiting hours at the hospital would be long over before they got back.

  “Why the hell would he want to see us now?” he demanded.

  Zane stopped to look at him. “I’m not really sure. I asked the same question when Gage told me Oliver’s lawyer called. The only thing we could come up with is that the hunters have decided to dangle him in front of us as bait.”

  Brooks frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bait for what?”

  Seth Oliver was the only surviving hunter from the attack on the Pack last month. Until now, he’d refused to talk to anyone, but if they could get him to tell them where the hell the other hunters were, they might be able to stop the next attack before it happened.

  If Oliver was bait, as Zane suggested, that implied the man had been in contact with the people who’d sent him to Dallas to kill werewolves. Oliver had been on 24/7 lockdown the entire time he’d been in prison at Coffield. He shouldn’t have been able to talk to anyone. But in truth, it was ridiculously easy to get information in and out of prison, especially if you had the right people on the outside to make it happen. The hunters were obviously the right people.

  “Intel probably,” Zane said in answer to his question. “The hunters may have knocked us out the last time we fought, but in return, we pretty much wiped them out. Whoever is in charge is probably trying to figure out how that happened. They seem to operate like a militia organization, which means they’ll want to learn more about us. The easiest way to do that is get us to talk to Oliver.”

  “Okay, I get that,” Brooks said. “If they assume we’d be stupid enough to tell them anything. But why the two of us? Why not Gage? He’s the Pack alpha. Wouldn’t they want to talk to the man in charge if they’re looking for information about how we operate?”

  Zane snorted. “You’re assuming they have a clue what an alpha is. They only care about two things—tracking and killing our kind. The idea that we’re anything more than animals is probably something they’ve never considered. They most likely don’t know there are even different kinds of werewolves. To them, we’re all the same—except for size. Which is probably why they want to talk to you. They probably assume you’re the apex predator since you’re so bloody big.”

  Brooks could see Zane’s point. The hunters were damn good at finding werewolves and also coming up with weapons to kill them. They’d filled their bullets with a potent synthetic wolfsbane, which acted like a nerve agent on werewolves but had limited effect on humans. That showed a shocking level of sophistication. But at the same time, they didn’t seem to understand anything about how werewolves lived or their pack structure. In fact, the biggest reason they’d co
me after Lana last month seemed to be an obsessive fascination with getting a chance to hunt down a female werewolf. Apparently, they hadn’t seen very many.

  “If they arranged this meeting with me so Oliver could get a look at the werewolf they think is their biggest physical threat, what’s their angle with you?” Brooks asked. “They just curious about a British werewolf living in Dallas?”

  Zane let out a harsh laugh and pointed at his injured arm. “More likely, they want him to get a look at this so they can figure out why I’m still alive. I’m there for battle damage assessment.”

  “Battle damage assessment” sounded like something a military person might say, which wasn’t surprising, considering Zane had served in the British Special Air Service before joining SWAT. Still, it sounded harsh for him to refer to his injured arm that way. Like it wasn’t even part of him anymore.

  “You think it’s a good idea to let them see how bad they messed you up?” Brooks asked softly.

  He knew the minute Zane’s eyes flashed gold that it’d been the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to take it back.

  “What, you think I’m so wretched I can’t even sit in a chair across from that wanker and look normal?” Zane growled, his accent deepening and the tips of his fangs showing.

  Before getting injured, Zane had rarely lost his cool, but ever since the hunters had nearly killed him, it happened all the time. Brooks didn’t say anything, instead giving his friend a chance to get himself together.

  When Zane’s eyes resumed their normal brown color, Brooks reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. “You know that’s not what I meant. You said yourself that the whole reason Oliver wants you at this meeting is so he can assess the damage their poison ammo inflicted. The last thing we want to do is encourage them to come after us again with that stuff.”

  Zane let out a breath. “I know you didn’t mean anything. It’s me. I’m not dealing with this well.”

  Brooks was going to tell him everything was going to be okay, that he’d get through this. But Zane cut him off with a look.