Her Werewolf Hero Read Online Free PDF Page A

his head. As if regretfully? She didn’t know what the thing was, but everything associated with the man was out there and strange. And if he was up on all things paranormal, then the glass piece could be magical.
    That didn’t mean she wanted it stuck to her chest.
    All of a sudden he shifted the truck into gear and drove onward. “We need to fill up with gas. I saw a station at the edge of town.”
    â€œFill? Where are you going? Because I’m not going along. I’m staying in town. That way.” She pointed out the back window. “Just drop me off anywhere, and I can walk. Really. It’s not that far. Pull over here, and I can make it on my own.”
    â€œThey are after you—what is your name?”
    â€œKizzy. Who are after me? Harpies?”
    â€œWhat kind of name is Kizzy?”
    â€œIt’s short for Kisanthra. Kisanthra Lewis.” She offered her hand to shake, which he ignored as he swerved toward the gas station. “Photographer. Blogger. World traveler. Soon to be getting the hell out of your life.”
    â€œBlogger?”
    â€œYes, I’ve a blog called Other Wonders . All about—oy.” She sighed heavily. “Is this for real? I mean, really? Am I being punked?” She peered out the side window. “Where’s Ashton Kutcher?”
    Bron pulled up before a gas tank and shut off the engine. When he turned, he held the piece of glass before him. “Kisanthra, I’m a Retriever. I work for an organization that retrieves lost artifacts, items of magical nature and various other things that I’m sure you’d understand if I took the time to explain, because your acceptance of the harpie was easy enough.”
    â€œI believe in a lot of things. But this is the first time I’ve ever been given tangible proof. I sure hope those photos turn out.” She snapped the small, square piece of glass with a fingernail. “You retrieve things? Does it have to do with harpies?”
    â€œIt shouldn’t. It’s to do with this.”
    She took the piece of glass when he offered it, and again, it slipped out of her grip and affixed to the front of her shirt.
    â€œHell,” he muttered. “This mission was supposed to be find and seize. There’s no way—” He beat the steering wheel with a fist.
    His anger had come on so suddenly and felt palpable to Kizzy. The thought to flee resurfaced. But it was already dark outside. Not as easy to spy a raven-winged bird man flying overhead.
    â€œI don’t get it.” She tore away the square piece from her chest, which looked innocuous enough. Maybe it wasn’t glass? It wasn’t clear but was smooth and had a good weight to it like some kind of stone. “What is this thing?”
    â€œIt’s a tracking device. Sometimes the items I’m sent to retrieve are in an unknown location. Acquisitions had a tracker bespelled, and, apparently, it led me straight to the item.”
    â€œAcquisitions?”
    He nodded. “That’s the name of the organization I work for.”
    â€œGenerically nonspecific. And you are a Retriever. That’s kind of cool. You get more points for the Indiana Jones vibe you’re putting off. And you had me right up until you said bespelled.”
    â€œRight.” He snatched the tracking device from her and opened the truck door. “The item I’m looking for is the Purgatory Heart. And—” he stepped out and leaned his head in “—apparently it’s inside you.”
    Door closing behind him, he turned and shoved the gas nozzle into the tank at the back of the truck.
    Kizzy sat frozen, her jaws agape as she watched him stride inside the station. Long sure strides. Peripherally aware as he glanced side to side. His hands flexed at his sides, where she noted a holster strapped to one thigh, but she couldn’t determine what was in it. He was some kind of Indiana Jones Wild West