Part 66 (2/2)

Instinctively, they knew they had to cooperate to free Lance. Working as a team, they pushed him away, but they couldn't move him far-not as wolves because they simply didn't have a good way of holding him.

Which left them no alternative. Making a decision he didn't much like, Logan mentally began chanting the ancient words that would transform him from wolf to man.

As he made the transformation, he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Once he had morphed, he turned his head and saw a b.l.o.o.d.y slash that he hadn't noticed through his fur. The soldier had cut him with the knife, but the wound wasn't deep. Just long and painful.

He saw Ross also making the transformation. They were both naked and vulnerable. And if the soldiers caught them like this, they were dog meat.

”Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here,” Ross muttered.

They turned toward Lance and grabbed his legs. He snapped at them, but he was weak, and Ross was able to wrap one hand around his muzzle as they dragged him away from the snare that had captured his mind. It was probably a rough ride through the woods, but there was nothing they could do about that.

When they were a hundred yards from the trap, Ross bent to Lance. ”If I let go of your muzzle, will you promise not to bite me?”

To Logan's relief, his brother's eyes seemed to have cleared. He nodded.

Ross undamped his fingers and stepped back. ”Can you change?”

They waited for a long moment before they saw any results. Then Lance's body shape began to flow. But as Logan focused on his brother, he heard shouts in the woods.

”Son of a b.i.t.c.h,” Ross growled. ”They're coming back-with reinforcements.”

Lance had barely transformed from wolf to man when they grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

As best they could, they hustled him through the woods. Now they were three naked men on the run. They pounded across the stretch of trees and into the park.

With every yard they ran, the soldiers gained on them. And Logan only gave them fifty-fifty odds of making it to the car.

When they reached the parking lot, they dashed past a man and a woman just spreading out a meal at a picnic table.

The woman screamed.

”d.a.m.n queers,” the man muttered, standing up and rounding the table, just as the soldiers burst from the woods in hot pursuit.

Logan had left the keys under a rock near the curb. For a terrible moment, he didn't see them. Then he realized he was a few feet from the right spot.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the keys and pressed the remote as the soldiers pounded out of the woods. The three Marshalls leaped toward the car and jumped in as the soldiers dashed past the startled couple.

Logan gunned the engine and roared away, and the pursuers were left standing at the edge of the parking lot staring after the car.

”Thank G.o.d,” he breathed.

”You need to get that cut disinfected.”

”Yeah.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw his brother sprawled across the back seat.

”How do you feel?” he asked.

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