Hunted By The Others by Jess Haines Page A

before they could fall. He would not see me cry. I’d disgraced myself enough already tonight.
    “Wait downstairs in the lobby. I’ll have my driver get you.”
    I kept walking, almost running to get out the door. He didn’t follow, thankfully. I’d be damned if I waited around for Royce’s driver. Forget it, I’d take a cab back to my car and then go straight to Sara’s. She’d know what to do.
    There had to be a way out of this. There just had to be.

Chapter 13
    The security guard wasn’t at his desk when I stepped out of the elevator. I practically ran to the revolving doors, glad there was no one to witness my ineffectual palm swipes at the tears streaming down my cheeks. The cold spring wind made me shiver, and I looked around dismally for a cab. I knew I looked like crap but fortunately there were few pedestrians meandering around this time of night.
    It didn’t take long for several yellow cabs to prowl around the corner. I flagged one down and it came to a screeching halt at the curb, narrowly cutting off another driver who had seen me first and was trying unsuccessfully to cut across three lanes of traffic.
    The cabbie was a Were. I knew immediately from his faint scent of musk and the thick mat of dark hair poking out from under the sleeves of his jacket and running along the backs of his hands. The hair and the dark stubble on his chin was probably more prominent than usual, not because he hadn’t shaved, but because the full moon was less than a week away. There was also a sticker plastered to the Plexiglas between the front and back seats that I recognized as a local Were pack’s symbol, a moon with a wolf paw print in the center for the Moonwalker tribe. The back of the cab was clean, but there was an undertone of cigarette smoke and fast food that clung to the interior, mingling with his musky scent in a way that wasn’t doing my already queasy stomach any favors.
    “Where to?” he growled, twisting in the driver’s seat to look back at me.
    I gave him the cross-streets where I’d parked and turned my gaze to the window, rolling it down a crack to see if the fresh air might help settle my nerves a little. The cabbie pulled out with a glance at me through the rearview mirror. I pointedly ignored his questioning looks. I’m sure I looked terrible, makeup smeared, eyes red, and mascara running from my crying.
    “She’s not worth it,” the guy said, startling me.
    “What?”
    “I said, she’s not worth it. Whoever made you cry. Move on.”
    Oh great. He thought I’d just had a bad breakup. Better yet, a bad breakup with a girl. For whatever reason, that started up the tears again.
    Taking a few deep breaths to avoid having my voice crack, I managed to say, “It’s a bad business deal, not a relationship.”
    “Yeah?”
    Great, a cab driver who thought he was a therapist. Just what the doctor ordered. For some reason, I did want to talk about it, if only to get some of the immediate weight and terror off my chest.
    “If I agree to this deal, my life is over. If I don’t, it’s still over but I’ll be dragging all of my friends and family down with me. No matter what I do, I’m screwed.”
    He nodded, his gaze sliding back and forth between the road and the mirror. After dodging an idling truck, he put a little more attention on me again.
    “Sounds rough. Pack business is like that sometimes. You either go with the flow, or you stand up to the alpha, at least take a shot at getting your way. May take a few lumps in the process, but when you look back, at least you know you tried, eh?”
    I couldn’t help but laugh, choking on my tears. That was good. Comparing my screwed-up business relationships to a Were pack’s internal politics sounded just about right, the way things were going for me the last few days.
    “I’m not alpha enough to stand up to the people putting me in the middle of this mess. I don’t have that option.”
    The Were laughed and returned his gaze to the road,