"He's in better condition than you are." His gaze ran past her again. "Mack, get some medical help, will you?"
His gaze came back to hers. Anger and worry burned deep in the wild blue depths of his eyes. Her heart did an odd flip-flop. She reached out, touching his full lips with her fingertips.
"Let the police handle it," she said, suddenly realizing he was going after Hank. That he would make Hank pay for the hurt he'd inflicted on her.
"I can't." He reached up and took her hand, gently kissing her fingertips.
"Hank and Eleanor are my field of expertise. I'll handle them."
"You can't go alone. Let me come."
"Ah Maddie, you continue to amaze me," he whispered. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his mouth hot and yet so gentle against her own. Heat whispered through her soul and made her heart ache. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. It was scary to realize just how far she'd fallen.
"Don't go," she whispered after a moment.
"I have no choice." He kissed her forehead then pulled back and glanced towards the doorway. "Mack, this is Madeline Smith. Maddie, Mack's from the FBI." He rose and squeezed her hand. His eyes became cold, so cold. "He'll look after you until I get back."
"Damn it Barnett, just wait—" The big man cut his sentence short and frowned darkly as Jon disappeared through the doorway.
"Not one for taking assistance or orders, is he?" he commented. With surprising grace, he knelt down beside her. She shivered. "No, he's been alone too long to depend on anyone but himself," she said softly. And wondered where the hell that left her.
***
Hank had a good ten minutes' start on him, but that was nothing when you could fly. He barely even felt the wind and the rain buffeting him. All he could think of was the pain in Maddie's amber eyes, the touch of her blood against his fingers.
The bastard would pay.
After a while he saw a flash of movement through the trees and quickly dove. When he neared the ground he changed, landing with little noise and on the run.
"Hank!"
There was a brief flash of white face as Hank glanced over his shoulder. Jon smiled grimly. Hank leapt forward in a frantic burst of energy. His quarry smelled of sweat and fear.
"You're a dead man, Hank!"
Taunting your prey was not usually a wise move, but it gave Jon an odd sense of satisfaction. The man was afraid— but not as afraid as Maddie had been. And not as afraid now as he would be when Jon caught him. He leapt across a fallen tree stump, took two quick steps then launched himself at Hank. He hit him hard, and, locked together, they tumbled to the ground with bone-crunching force. Hank kicked and screamed as they rolled off the faint path. Jon ignored him, hanging on grimly as they crashed down a rocky incline and slammed against the trunk of a pine tree.
"Bastard," Hank spat. He swung his fists, punching wildly. Jon grinned flatly and caught Hank's left wrist in one hand, crushing it until bones cracked and Hank screamed. "I haven't even began to be a bastard yet, my friend."
Hank swore and kicked. Jon jumped away, evading the full force of the blow, but lost his grip on Hank's wrist. Quicker than lightning, Hank was up and running.
Jon loped after him. He'd flown over this area when he'd first arrived in Taurin Bay and knew that Hank was headed straight for a cliff. There was no escape.
The trees gave way to barren, rocky ground. The full force of the wind hit them, driving the rain with needle-like force. Hank staggered several steps sideways, then stopped and swung around. Jon saw the anger in his eyes, the desperation. But it was the sudden lack of fear that made him wary.
"I tasted the sweet delights of your woman, Shapeshifter," Hank snarled, his voice full of venom. "I made her squeal, made her beg for more." Jon barely resisted the urge to leap forward and rip the life from the lying fiend's heart. That pleasure could come after he'd found out where Eleanor was.
"Where is your master, Hank? Has she gone and left you to face the murder charges alone?"
The flicker of fear through Hank's dark eyes told Jon the thought was not a new one.
"She needs me, Shapeshifter." But the tone of his voice was uncertain.
"Needs you to be the fall guy, nothing more." The wild wind twisted suddenly and blew Hank's long coat around from the back of his legs. Silver gleamed in Hank's right hand. Jon grinned flatly. "Wrong animal, Hank. Silver affects werewolves, not shapeshifters."
Hank snarled and lunged forward, the knife gleaming brightly in his hand. Jon dodged but Hank's weight hit him and knocked him sideways. The knife, aimed at his heart, slammed into his thigh instead. Pain ripped through his body. He ignored the burning ache and smashed his fist into Hank's face. Hank staggered a few feet backwards then stopped. His mouth was bloody, and there was surprise in his eyes. Jon didn't move. Couldn't move.
But he wasn't about to let Hank know that.