Hunted (Riley Cray) by A.J. Colby Page B

Johnson said, evidently at the end of his patience.
    “Fine...I’m fine,” I forced myself to say, hoping that if I could convince the agents maybe I’d be able to convince myself too. Swallowing hard, I pushed my hair back from my face and straightened. My knees were like Jell-O, but I was sure that I could at least make it a few more minutes without puking or fainting like a scared little girl. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
    “We are not your servants, Ms. Cray. You are on our clock, and if you want to have any chance of surviving this shit storm, I suggest you get your act together,” Johnson said, his anger flaring like a match put to kerosene.
    “What the hell is your problem?”
    “You’re my problem,” he said, stepping close enough for me to see each pore on his nose.
    I was always a pretty private person. Even before Samson’s attack I had preferred my own company to that of others, and afterwards I had just retreated further into my little world. I wasn’t fond of unfamiliar people, and I sure as hell didn’t like people getting in my face.
    “Hey, I’m not the one who called in the fucking circus!” Stepping back to a more comfortable distance, I waved a hand at the horde of reporters on the other side of the door. I couldn’t have cared less about the view I was giving him as my wild gestures flapped the tails of Holbrook’s shirt around my bare thighs.
    At that moment the door swung open, a gust of cold wind billowing into the room, lifting the front of my shirt to flash my now not-so-private parts to the multitude of cameras. Squinting at the flood of lights I was just able to make out the shape of Chrismer through the white spots dancing across my vision.
    Fuck a duck!
    Johnson’s face flushed the worrying shade of purple again, and I winced, steeling myself for the impending splatter that would surely happen when his head exploded. While his head didn’t actually explode, I was pretty sure that something snapped inside his skull when he developed a rather prominent eye twitch.
    Blinking rapidly to clear my watering eyes, the blur of shapes and colors solidified into the mass of reporters cramming themselves into the doorway. I wasn’t at all surprised to see Chrismer taking point, a smug smile curving her bright red lips.
    “Great, it’s the queen bee and her lecherous cronies.” My lips pulled back in a snarl. Besides Samson, there wasn’t anyone else in the world that I hated with such a deep gut-wrenching passion as Chrismer.
    With an exaggerated sway of her hips she stepped forward, standing apart from the other reporters who regarded her with a mixture of hatred and admiration.
    “Riley Cray. What a surprise to find you here,” she purred, her eyes flashing a chilling silver for a heartbeat before fading back to their usual scrutinizing blue. The saccharine sweetness of her smile was enough to make the nausea rise again.
    “Chrismer,” I replied, my voice rumbling just shy of a full out growl.
    Yeah I bet you’re oh so shocked, bitch , I snarled mentally, the wolf gnashing her teeth.
    “Is it true that Samson Reed has escaped from White Sands Supernatural Penitentiary? There have been reports of several murders between here and New Mexico, all of them showing signs of a werewolf attack. Do you believe these are the acts of Reed?” she asked in rapid succession, barely giving me enough time to breath, let alone answer.
    “Umm...” I floundered, words failing me.
    “Tell me, Ms. Cray, do you fear for your life?” she asked, thrusting her microphone towards me. I recoiled from it as if it were a poisonous snake, her words stabbing into me with vicious precision.
    “You have no shame do you?” I whispered, remembering all too clearly how she had hounded me during the trial, drawing out my suffering to increase her ratings.
    “I’m simply trying to deliver the truth to my viewers,” she replied, her face the picture of innocence except for the cruelty shining in her