Miranda's Mate by Ann Gimpel Page A

but Miranda materialized out of the darkness, smelling of blood. He hoped to Christ it wasn’t hers. “Are you hurt?”
    “No. I was getting ready to kill that jackal who had you pinned. Had a little mess of my own to get out of first.”
    “How many down?” The breath whooshed out of him. He sent up prayers to every deity imaginable she was still alive. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and draw her close, but he held himself back. Now wasn’t the time.
    “Three. Caught ’em heading for the back door with a pile of grenades.”
    He would have whistled but didn’t want to make any more noise than necessary. “I’m betting you know where the explosives are.”
    “Follow me.” She faded into the trees and led him to a neat stack of ten grenades. She stuffed four in her pockets and hefted a fifth in the hand not carrying her gun.
    “How you doing for ammo?” He picked up the rest of the grenades.
    “All right—” The night came alive with light and the sound of breaking glass. She made a huffing sound. “Good thing I put on warm clothes. Looks as if the place will probably burn to the ground before they’re done.”
    “Maybe not. Depends how intent they are on finding you. It takes time to set a good enough fire to burn a building that size to cinders.”
    She shrugged. “Grenades do a fair job. What’s next? I think I heard reinforcements drive up.”
    He snapped his sat phone from a pocket, keyed in a code, and terminated the connection. “The cavalry should arrive as soon as they can get a couple of choppers in the air.”
    “I meant in the meantime.” Annoyance dripped from her tone. “That will take an hour.”
    “Forty minutes.”
    “Regardless.”
    He inhaled raggedly. Time to take a chance. He spun her to face him, put his hands on her shoulders, and spoke right into her ear. “We could spend the time lobbing death back and forth—and maybe get hurt because the odds aren’t great. Or I can take a different form where it will be easier to protect you. I’m a wolf shifter—”
    Shock ratcheted through him when she hugged him, drew back, and slid out of her clothes. Then he understood what she was doing. Damn if Lars hadn’t been right about her. He wondered what animal she’d be. In seconds a gorgeous black and gray timber wolf nudged him with her snout. “What are you waiting for?”
    Good question. He grabbed her clothes and gun and trotted deeper into the forest. When the going became nearly impossible, at least in his human form, He dumped everything in a hollowed out tree and shucked his own garments, wrapping them around the rifle to keep the damp out.
    Gunfire and the boom of grenades followed them right along with men yelling in the guttural Slovakian language he didn’t understand. Miranda loped back toward the thick of things. “What are you doing?” he called after her.
    “Maybe I can pick off a few if they separate from the rest.”
    Her mind voice reverberated with feral overtones. His wolf side grinned and would have howled, but he muffled it. How the hell had she hidden her dual nature from the U.S. Army? The woman must have incredible control. He flanked her. Now she’d brought it up, killing some of the bastards in an up close and personal way with his teeth sounded like great sport.
    Miranda stalked one of the men, so silent on her thickly padded feet he never knew what hit him until she launched herself and buried her teeth in his neck. Garen didn’t think it accidental she’d picked the side with the man’s com device or that she obliterated the plastic tubing in her jaws right along with his carotid artery. Normally, he’d have wanted one of the devices to listen in on the enemy. Not much point since he didn’t understand their language.
    He watched Miranda, paws splayed on either side of her victim. He’d never seen her work before—in any form. Other businesses like his frequently deployed agents in pairs or trios, but he’d always preferred to