Free Savage Revenge by Shelli Stevens Page B

a beautiful redhead.
    Phrases started popping out at her.
    Most of the pack slaughtered, women and children included.
    P.I.A Agent Nathan Larson is extremely dangerous and unstable.
    Oh my lord. Nausea rose inside her and the room began to spin.
    Who was this man who’d taken over her house and held her hostage? Who, for a moment, she’d felt shockingly drawn to.
    She was going to be sick.
    He wasn’t on the run because of some bank robbery or petty theft. Nate was being accused of murder. Mass murder.
    “I…you know…” She swallowed hard and stumbled away from him. “I think I will go make that breakfast actually.”

Chapter Eight
    Nathan didn’t say anything, but let Sage scurry off to the kitchen—shaking and paler than usual.
    He couldn’t blame her. He knew it looked bad—hell it was bad. He stared at what was the equivalent to an Old West Wanted flier.
    So it had gone out in an all-points bulletin to the shifter communities. He was lucky he’d taken refuge while he had, or it would’ve been a matter or time before someone would’ve recognized him and reported him.
    He kept reading and his stomach clenched. “Fuck.”
    Or maybe somebody already had. There was a report that he’d been spotted in the beach community of Lincoln City Oregon.
    Had he passed through there? So much was a blur. So many patches he might’ve blacked out from exhaustion. From the mix of horror and rage.
    Shit. He had to get in touch with someone. He needed help. Needed a way to maybe get a hold of Warrick Donovan. Nathan had no family left, and Donovan was as close to a brother as a guy could have.
    But he was also an honorable man. Fiercely loyal to the shifter community and the P.I.A. So the chances that he’d notify the agency of contact was high.
    There was a subtle click behind him, and the sound made every muscle in his body clench.
    Son of a bitch .
    “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in your head, Agent Larson.”
    Turning slowly in the chair—because God help him if she was trigger happy—and stared at her.
    “Where did you have that little toy hiding?”
    And really, it was more of a cute gun than efficient. Who the hell bought a pink gun?
    “On the top shelf in the coat closet.”
    “I see.”
    So somehow she’d bypassed the kitchen and made it to the hall without him realizing it.
    Shit. This hunkering down for a few days was going to be so much harder than he’d hoped.
    “My brother insisted I own a gun since I live out here alone.”
    “Smart brother.”
    “Yes. Smart enough to teach me how to use it too.”
    Maybe. But the way her hands shook meant the chances of her hitting her target were slim. Unless she was at close range, which he bordered on right now.
    She inched toward the phone on the counter and shook her head.
    “Was the bulletin true? Did you kill all those people?”
    “No.” Not all of them .
    Distrust flickered in her eyes. “I just don’t know if I can believe you.”
    Removing one hand from the gun, she picked up the phone and started to dial.
    Her gaze swung to his with shock.
    “My line is dead.”
    “I cut it last night before I grabbed you.”
    “Dammit! Get out of my house, Nate.”
    “I’m not leaving.” He didn’t hesitate with the words, just said them with quiet firmness.
    He had nowhere else to go. If he left, he was a dead man.
    Irritation flashed in her eyes. “If you don’t leave, I’ll shoot you.”
    “All right. Then shoot me.”
    Her mouth parted and her brows rose. “You don’t mean that.”
    “Well, I’d rather you not,” he said dryly. “But I’m not leaving. I need a place to lie low for a while, and I’m sorry I had to take you and your house by force—”
    “You’re not sorry!”
    “But I’m not walking out that door, Curls. I can’t. And if those are my two options, you may as well shoot me now.”
    “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered and took a step toward him. “I didn’t want to do this.”
    She wouldn’t.