Page 11 of Cold Foot King
“Don’t say King,” the woman uttered.
“King.”
“Fuck!” she yelled. “Turn it around. We have to stop Wreck!”
“There is no stopping Wreck!” the driver yelled.
“I can.” The woman pulled her ski mask off and shoved her tranquilizer gun onto the floor of the Hummer. Katrina cast her eyes upward, and her heart rate kicked up to a gallop.
She knew that woman.
She knew that shifter.
Timber, the mate of the phoenix, was shoving the back door open and sliding out. “Love!” she screamed into the air. “We need him alive! Wreck, don’t!”
The edges of her vision were collapsing inward. Katrina tried to hang on to consciousness. She tried so hard, but everything was getting dark.
Everyone was yelling. She looked to Raynah, desperate to see something familiar before she slipped away. Raynah blinked slowly.
And then she felt it. She felt it, and couldn’t do a single thing to get away from it.
She felt the heat of the phoenix’s fire, and drifted into oblivion to the screams of the Fastlanders and the enraged roaring of the silverback.
Chapter Two
“You killed me,” King muttered.
“I’ll probably do it again.” Truth.
King narrowed his eyes at Wreck Itall. Oh, he knew who this asshole was. If the flames in his eyes hadn’t given him away, the fire-spewing phoenix that went to war with him outside the prison would’ve been a dead giveaway. “Why did you bring me back to life?”
“I didn’t.” Wreck tossed a paper bag at him. “My mate did.”
“Where’s the woman?”
“Katrina is where she’s supposed to be, unlike you. You’re supposed to be back in the prison, rotting.”
“You’re the one who brought me to…” He frowned as he looked around. He had no clue where he was right now. “Wherever this is.”
“Not my choice. My old Crew said we needed to bring you.”
“Why?”
“Because Katrina said you’re her mate, and apparently, I’m cursed to have a fucking Holland in my new Crew because some seer named Lucia said so, and also her old friend, Silver, called in about a million favors. You are here because Katrina wanted you to live. Period. Doesn’t mean you will be given a place with us.” Wreck jammed his finger at him. “I know what you did.” Wreck turned in the open doorway and slammed the door of the hotel room so hard, the floor rattled.
King glared at the door for a three-count, then dropped the paper bag in between his feet, leaned forward on the edge of the bed, and peered inside. There were folded clothes in there, stacked on top of a package of underwear, and a pair of thick wool socks. He checked the tag on the light gray, long-sleeved thermal shirt on top. They’d gotten his size right. He checked the thick work pants next. The tags were still on them, and this size would work as well. Huh. There was a flannel in there too, and a beanie to keep his head warm in the harsh Alaskan winter.
Bare-ass naked, he stood slowly to his full height and caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror. He was covered in the scars of his Challenges, but there wasn’t a single burn on his skin. He remembered Wreck killing him though. Remembered the pain of death, but even worse? He remembered the pain of being brought back. He’d wished for death on the come-back. King shuddered just thinking about it, and his skin broke out into a thin sheen of sweat. Inside of him, his animal was quiet and very small. They’d probably drugged him.
Katrina. Pretty name. He hadn’t known it before now. She’d refused to tell him back when…
He winced, and rejected the memory.
Why had she called him her mate? He wasn’t. King had been able to feel the hatred and confusion roiling off that woman when she’d freed him from his cell. They weren’t a match, so why had she pretended they were?
Nothing made sense.
His head was pounding, and the light hurt his eyes. He’d never had a headache that wasn’t a hangover before, and this one felt different. Big. Deep. The ache stretched into his neck like he’d been in some car accident or something.