Page 15 of Perfectly Leashed
“Santiago,” he said as another shot rang out, sending a slug through the Camry’s fender and straight into Luca’s shoulder. The pain was searing and sharp, tearing through his right side. Luca stifled a scream, pressing a hand against the wound. When he pulled it away, his hand was slick with blood. Should’ve taken cover behind the rig, dumbass.
“I’m hit,” he gritted out.
Chopper’s head snapped around. “How bad?”
With a hiss, he yanked aside the collar of his shirt. “Do you see an exit wound?”
“I don’t see one.” Chopper’s hand hovered, but he didn’t touch.
Luca wiped the blood from his hand onto his jeans, needing a firm grip on his gun despite the intense pain in his shoulder.
If they survived this, he’d have to visit Dr. Martinez to get the bullet removed and the wound stitched. It wouldn’t be the first scar on his body and definitely wouldn’t be the last.
A buzzing sound caught his attention. Digging out his phone, he read a text from Darcy.
You said an hour, right? Already here, waiting on my dog whisperer.
The last thing he wanted was to let down his lucerito, but until help arrived, Luca was stuck behind this crappy car. Missing his lunch date with Darcy was infuriating. The human was already skittish with Luca. Hopefully he hadn’t ruined his chances by leaving Darcy hanging. He started to reply, but bullets pinged the car.
“I’m getting really sick of these cabróns,” Luca growled, quickly pocketing his phone before returning fire. Someone ducked behind a tree. “They’re ruining my lunch date.”
“Date?” Chopper raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you let Lenny handle this job?”
“Glad I didn’t.” Luca grunted at the throbbing pain. “He would’ve been killed. Good mechanic, great dad, but the human lacks shifter instincts. They would’ve picked him off immediately.”
Bullets continued piercing the Camry’s front end and the nearby trees, bark splintering off a pine inches away from Luca. The hot air was thick with the scent of oil and pine. Luca gritted his teeth, eager for this standoff to end.
A quiet pause stretched, broken only by the distant hum of insects. Chopper pressed flat to the ground, sweat stains on the back of his shirt. “We’ll get you to your date, hermano. I’m starving. Knew I should’ve eaten breakfast. Cesar’s giving Jamie more cooking lessons. They laid out a spread this morning.”
All Luca’d had was a cup of coffee, but he wasn’t thinking about food right now. He was thinking about Darcy and those gorgeous green eyes. The way he seemed puzzled whenever Luca flirted, like the concept was lost on him. Guy couldn’t walk a pack of dogs to save his life, but Darcy was determined to learn how. Every instruction Luca gave, the human followed with concentrated effort.
That’s what Luca really liked about him. Darcy didn’t give up, despite the dogs pulling him in every direction. The male seemed dead set on mastering them instead of the other way around. Darcy just needed to learn how to relax. If he kept expecting chaos, the dogs would never see him as their pack leader.
Luca had also fallen for the adorable way Darcy demanded Meatball let go of Jared’s spare tire. There hadn’t been any bite behind his command, which was why the pit bull kept using the tire as his chew toy.
Shadows moved again, the shooters trying to find a better angle. Luca tracked the gunman on the left, counting heartbeats, until a wild shot tore through the Camry’s window, shattering the glass and causing it to rain down in uneven chunks all around them.
Luca pressed his cheek to rust-flaked metal, wincing as the pain in his shoulder grew worse.
A bullet buried itself in the engine block, sending smoke curling up. Chopper ducked close and patted Luca’s good arm, a quick, silent question.
“I’m hanging in there,” Luca rasped, squinting through sweat and grit. He felt blood oozing from the wound, making the fabric of his shirt stick to his skin.
“Wanna try the ankles again?” Chopper asked, glancing at Luca with concern.
They lowered together, shifting their weight so they hugged dirt. Luca scooted to the edge of the front bumper, lining up sightlines through the Camry’s broken headlamp. He waited, but whoever was shooting had gone silent.
Chopper wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “They’re waiting for us to make a mistake.”
Deep, throaty engines cut through the silence, the kind of sound that was unmistakable even as it grew louder.
“About damn time,” Luca ground out, lips twitching despite the pain. Chopper’s grin turned into a low chuckle.
“The sound never fails to settle my nerves,” he said.
The woods held their breath. The incoming bikes didn’t. They chewed up the road, not bothering with stealth, sounding like a wall of hungry metal and muscle.
Luca risked another look. The shooters bolted, figures stumbling back into the brush. One limped hard, dragging his wounded leg. He still didn’t know who the hell they were or why they’d set him up.
