Wolfgirl: The Lost Girls, #3

Wolfgirl

By Jason Halstead

Published by Novel Concept Publishing LLC

Copyright 2012

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For additional information contact:

www.novelconceptpublishing.com

7974 Brookwood ST NE

Warren, MI 44484

––––––––

Cover art © 2012 Willsin Rowe

Photography by Marcus Ranum

Edited by Lisa Shalek

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Find Jason Halstead on the web at http://www.booksbyjason.com

Sign up for Jason Halstead's Newsletter

The Lost Girls series:

The Lost Girls

Traitor

Wolfgirl

Black Widow

Guardian

Prologue

I don’t want a man, I want a woman. She heard Mr. Westin’s words as clearly today as that fateful day five years ago. A man will protect us within the bounds of his job and his sense of duty. A woman—a woman like you who feels love for my family and feels my family’s love in return—will fight for them like a badger backed into a corner. I want you because you’ll give your own life to protect us. Am I wrong?

No, he hadn’t been wrong. Hannah didn’t fully understand it then and there, but over the years she’d come to realize how right he was. Most of her family’s closest relatives still lived in Africa. The Westins were her family as much as her parents and brothers were. Perhaps more, considering she lived with the Westins. They were her life: she ate with them, went with them to school recitals and sports games, even helped with homework and shopping trips.

And now all that was at risk. Hannah sat in the front of the wagon, an honest to goodness stagecoach style wagon with a team of four horses. The driver was frantic to get away, but two men armed with guns and a very large dog stood in the road ahead of them. Another wagon was on fire, the men and women either dead or dying. The remaining coach had fallen behind, it’s rear wheels shattered.

A vacation to Dark Earth, the latest rage for the wealthy and influential. The family had jumped at the idea when Thomas Westin, the CEO for NuGene, had suggested it. Why not see the Earth as it had been hundreds of years ago, before man had cluttered it with industrialization, pollution, and overpopulation.

The Dark Earthlings had learned from Hannah’s world. The former FBI agent’s pre-emptive research had shown this was a possibility, but even now she was surprised at how well kidnapping for ransom was being executed. These particular crimes, once reserved for Mexico and other third world countries, were still very real and very dangerous.

Behind them others approached on foot, preventing escape. Hannah was sure there were more in the rocks that surrounded them as well. Run them down, she said calmly to the driver. The driver nodded and snapped the reigns.

Shots rang out from the poorly maintained rifles the men had. Both missed but one bullet struck against the wooden railing beside the driver. He jumped, jerking the reins enough to pull the horses to the left. Hannah and the Westins, judging from the cries of alarm behind her, were all thrown off balance. She pulled herself back from the edge, having nearly fallen out of the barely padded front seat, then found herself staring into eyes straight out of a nightmare.

It lunged at her, a pony-sized dog with eyes that were narrowed with malice. She pulled back but not in time to stop the fanged maw from grabbing her forearm and pulling. She slipped, off balance already, and tumbled out. She hit the ground before her training could kick in, smashing into her cheek and chin and driving her head back. The air burst out of her lungs even as she tasted a mixture of blood and dirt. The massive creature had let her go, even the vision of the twin gateways to the abyss that it called eyes had fled from her rattled brain.

Hannah rolled, a victim of momentum more than self-preservation. She managed to come up on her knees, dimly aware of a great many scrapes and bruises. Behind her she could hear people calling out her name. A girl, more of a young woman, screamed for her and yelled for the coach to go back. Another, a boy whose voice had just mastered the changes of adolescence, screamed at the attackers to leave her alone.

Hannah climbed to one knee and looked back at them. She felt wetness on the side of her head, running from a line of fire in her scalp. Her bleached white crew cut would serve as quite the contrast to the head wound, she was sure. Go, I’ll catch up! she called to them.

A sixth sense warned her just in time to turn, but not in time to block the kick that caught her across the stomach and chest. Her attacker’s foot connected, but her arms wrapped around his boot and she pulled him with her as she fell back. He grunted and collapsed on top of the tall woman, then his leer changed to one of open-eyed surprise when she was suddenly above him.

Her elbow smashed into his chin, stunning him. She flipped herself off of him, overcompensating for her own dizziness and sliding across the ground. She scrambled up, staying low and keeping herself ready for more. Her pistol was in her hand, the latest Ruger Super Warhawk model available chambered in .54 magnum. The revolver seemed fitting for the old west setting that she found herself in. Perhaps a Colt would have been a better homage to Hollywood, but she loved her double action.

Another shot rang out, although not from her. She looked down the road and saw Mr. Westin himself aiming and firing the rifle that the driver kept at hand for dealing with smaller threats like snakes, scorpions, coyotes, or whatever. She wasn’t surprised Mr. Westin had the gun and not the driver, she had zero confidence the driver would be able to do anything except soil his pants in a crisis.

Mr. Westin was a very capable CEO, but a marksman he was not. Hannah had taken him skeet shooting and hunting in the past and he could manage passably well. She suspected that his killer instinct in business wouldn’t translate as well to human targets. There was an indefinable difference a person felt when the sights were on a human being instead of an animal or a target. All five shots he fired missed their mark, whatever it may have been.

Hannah used the distraction to her advantage. She kicked the man in the head beneath her, striking him unconscious, then circled warily with her pistol held in a two handed support. Men circled her, having given up on the wagon. Men and their pets. They weren’t dogs, she realized, they were wolves. Wolves large enough that only a year ago Jeffrey, Mr. Westin’s now thirteen year old son, could have ridden one.

The wolves snarled at her. Hannah crouched lower and bared her teeth in return. She stared at the men, tempted to bait them into attacking. The sooner they came at her, the sooner she would be overwhelmed. Every moment she bought was a moment that Jeffrey, Ashley, Mr. Westin, and his wife Annabelle could get away. Hannah felt a lump in her throat at the thought of never seeing them again. The children, smiling as she played with them or thanking her for helping them with their math. Annabelle, relieved to see her pick up a towel and help her with the dishes. Aside from expensive cars and other toys Hannah was the only luxury obligation the Westins made. They had no servants, no chauffeurs, no maids, and no cooks. Only a single full time bodyguard. She shook her head and snarled again. Come on then! she snapped.

A Dark Earthling grabbed her foot and wrenched it from underneath her. Yelping in surprise, Hannah caught a glimpse of the Mayan man as she dropped like a stone. The others rushed in, but she paid them no mind. One of the natives smashed her gun from her hand and, she was certain, broke at least two of her fingers. The man she had kicked into unconsciousness was grappling with her again, only this time he had surprise as a serious advantage. A steel toed cowboy boot to the side of the head is supposed to guarantee at least six hour of sleep, not six seconds.

Teeth flashed and fists pounded. Hannah howled in agony as she felt her skin beaten and torn. Her clothing ripped and fresh agony tore into her. She thrashed, trying to fight back; trying to hit and hurt anybody she could. As long as she moved, as long as she fought, she knew it was one more heartbeat that her family could get away. Her family could live and they would remember her.

Chapter 1

Hey, the school’s off limits! You can’t go in there!

Try and stop me! I snarled, all but ignoring the bomb specialist. I turned to one of the fireman who watched nearby and said, Give me your coat.

Detective Wimple, you need to wait and let the professionals—

I drew my gun and pointed it at the man who’d spoken. He was a younger guy, probably on the force less than a year, and I wasn’t taking any shit from him. His words choked off and his face paled. Give me a jacket.

Lieutenant, put your gun away before somebody gets hurt. This came from another cop, and a sergeant at that. I’d been promoted a couple of months ago but I spurned the opportunity to sit at a desk.

I turned to the sergeant and nodded slowly. Lowering my .45 I slipped it into the holster under my arm, then lashed out with my foot and connected squarely with his crotch. The sergeant’s breath exploded out of his mouth and he doubled over with his hands reaching for his bruised testicles. I felt no pity or compassion, he was between me and what mattered most to me. I used my lack of height to my advantage, stepping in and driving my fist in a vicious uppercut that landed squarely on his chin. He crumpled to the ground fast enough to test Newton’s theories on gravity.

Now somebody give me a fucking jacket!

I had my pick of three. I chose the largest, in case I needed to cover Natalie or Dale with it, then turned and brushed past the wide-eyed bomb squad member.

I moved through the evacuated school quickly. I knew where to go, the boiler room. The bad guys always planted the bombs there. Well, that and I’d overheard on the radio where the hostages had been found. It only took a few minutes to find my way, but it was the longest few minutes of my life.

Nat! I gasped, rushing up behind the bomb technicians who were surveying the equipment. Dale! Are you guys okay?

Both of them had tears running down their faces. Dale was more of a young man now than anything. Or at least he was a teenager and that meant he certainly thought of himself a a man. Ironically I got along with his adolescent humor and locker room behavior. We’d connected as friends, something more than I’d been able to truly do with any other man since I was sixteen years old, but it was anybody’s guess as to how our relationship would hold up as he got older and maybe tested the waters of just what his mom and me, his mom’s girlfriend, would let him get away with.

Natalie and her son were duct taped together in the middle of the room, a concrete column some twelve inches square between them. Several strings ran from them to multiple explosive contraptions on the floor. I could only guess at the components and how the bombs were supposed to work. One thing I had no doubt of was the fluid that covered both of them and left puddles on the floor. Kerosene. I was feeling light headed and I’d just gotten here, how could they be feeling?

Oh wait, the assholes in the bomb squad had breathing masks on. Only Dale and Natalie were forced to endure the raw stink of it.

How much longer? I asked, glaring at one of the bomb techs.

You shouldn’t be down here! He snapped.

Yeah, but I’m here. You want to know what I told the last guy or do you want to stop wasting time and tell me how much fucking longer?

He stared at me then shook his head. They’re wired to a bunch of igniters. We can just cut the strings, but we have to be careful. If one of them goes off...

Then start cutting! I snapped. Natalie stared into my eyes and conveyed her sense of pure terror. I understood. The feeling of being trapped, confined against your will, was something I woke up screaming from even after more than a decade. Natalie knew that, she was the one who held me and calmed me down.

Even worse, I knew their bodies were numb from sitting in one position so long. The panic made them want to try to get away as quickly as possible—I knew the thought would have been in my mind. And maybe, if they moved fast enough, they could get away before one of the igniters went off. It was a horrible choice, wait and pray or act and pray. Me, I’m not much for praying or waiting.

We got him, honey, I told her, dropping into a squat to stare at Natalie from as close as I could get. He’s been picked up and will spend the rest of his life, a short one I’m hoping, in jail. No more fires, no more murders. He’s a sick bastard and he’s done for.

Natalie stared back, fresh tears forming and running down her face. The duct tape on her mouth kept her from talking. Get that fucking tape off of them! I lurched to my feet, fists clenched and blood running down my hands from a momentary loss of control. I swore again and pressed my bloody palms against my thighs to stop the stinging. I’d never been so angry and frustrated that I triggered my claws into my own palms. But I’d never had to watch helplessly while the most important person in my life was being fucked with.

I’m alive and sane because of Natalie. Without her I think I would have put myself in a situation where there was no escape. Okay, not might, would. I’d never been consciously suicidal, even after what happened to me as a kid. But having spent the last six months living with Nat,