herself off, shaking her head hard enough to make herself stagger. She catches herself, sways forward, and accuses, “That lying little bitch is hiding here and we both know it!”
The stench of fear bolts off Charlotte, and she nudges the door shut.
Me, behind her leg, pushes past her and noses the door back open.
Ms. Connolly uses the opportunity to hook her hands over the door and shove it in.
I twist my neck, open my jaws, and nip her thigh.
Ms. Connolly doesn’t seem to hardly notice—until she can’t shuffle forward and she looks down to see why.
She screams.
She screams bloody murder.
With a vicious snarl, I lunge forward, pouncing at her—and she falls back, scrabbles out of the door, and falls off the stoop.
It’s maybe a three-foot drop. Soft woodchips and Chrysanthemums cushion her fall.
I leap out after her, dropping out of sight of the door. I Change.
Flashing the whole street and the woman suffering from substance abuse, I peek my head around the jam to see a shaken Charlotte, Maggie, and hanging furthest back, trying to stay out sight, is an extremely worried Ginny.
“Get my phone,” I tell them. “Basement bedside table. Call Finn.”
Ginny is the one who dashes for it.
Charlotte’s worried throat convulses as she whispers, “If the police show up, we can get into trouble for hiding Ginny. Like,” a tear falls down her cheek, “a lot of trouble.”
“There won’t be that kind of trouble,” I promise. “Not if Finn can get here first. Lock the door.”
Finn arrives five minutes later, and with my hand over Ms. Connolly’s mouth, nobody has been bothered by her attempts to keep screaming. It doesn’t seem like anyone has called the police.
One of the girls was kind enough to retrieve a pair of my sweats, and Charlotte cracked open a window to toss them to me, so it was just a werewolf pinning a woman down outside, not a naked one. That fact must have been the clincher that allowed the neighborhood to relax about it all.
Yes, I’m being sarcastic. I’m a little appalled at how studiously everyone seems to be ignoring the show. Nobody stops. Nobody seems outraged at the scene. Double-takes aplenty as people drove by, but no one stopped to step in. Yet on the other hand, I’m relieved damage control won’t have too much more to deal with.
“All day,” Finn starts, “I been hard at work. Meanwhile, look at you, lad. If work were a bed, you’d be sleeping on the floor.” He stops when he reaches us and crouches at Ms. Connolly’s head, blocking her a little more from the street’s view. “Chrisht, this cow is gee-eyed. And she smells like an exploded pharmacy.”
“It’s rude to call American women cows,” I inform him, teeth chattering from stress.
“Cunt, then.”
I tip my head in acknowledgement. “Never mind. Go back to cows before you get yourself killed.”
Finn grins, but it lacks his usual deep humor. “Nah, I always explain that things are different in Ireland, and the ladies love the accent. Ahhh, Yanks. I can almost get away with anything.” He draws a finger gently along the dirty hair plastered to Ms. Connolly’s temple. “How did this all happen, I wonder?”
“I don’t think Ginny knows,” I tell him.
“Didn’t seem to have any inkling,” he agrees. He meets my eyes, not bothered at all when I immediately drop my gaze. As an alpha, he expects it. His palm smacks down gently on top of my head. “You going to make it? P.S., you’ve got some hairy feckin’ knuckles.”
If he’d been two minutes later, I’d probably be a wolf right now, and I don’t know how I would have kept Ms. Connolly subdued without hurting her since my control options would be limited to teeth and claws and sheer weight. I exhale mightily, reassured by the presence and touch of a dominant wolf. “Yeah, Finn. Thanks.”
“There’s a lad. Now, about Ginny, tell her not to run. Let her know the Pack will—”
I give my head the smallest shake. “You better be the one to tell her. She’s not afraid of you.”
“Poor little thing doesn’t have the sharpest instincts yet, does she?” Finn asks, amused.
Because of the two of us, he is by far the most dangerous.
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll make sure she gets them. Help me get her gargled mam in the boot, and I’ll have a chat with our Ginny.”
I glance up at him before just as quickly breaking our gazelock. “You can’t put a woman in the