Jessie stared at him. Should she tell him she wanted it for personal protection? “I’m going camping. Need something in case a bear decides I look tasty.” Well, not exactly a bear, but she figured it was close enough.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to say to a hunter. “Stabbing a bear is just going to land you in a world of hurt.”
Jessie sighed. “I’m only going to stab if he bites first. And if I have a tree handy, I’ll be climbing instead.”
The full lips pursed. “Never run from a bear.”
This wasn’t going well. “Look, I know that. Will you sell me an effing knife, or am I just going to have to sharpen a stick?”
He glowered at her. “Fixed blade or folding?”
Jessie sighed. “How about one of both?”
He hauled out a selection. She ended up with a large folding knife and a rather wicked looking fixed blade that made her skin crawl to even touch. She’d seen the damage such a blade could do.
He helped her select a clip-on sheath for the fixed blade.
“Anything else I can help you with, Miss?” His expression said he’d rather be anywhere else. Most likely, back on his quad.
“Do you have security cameras?”
“Of course.” He opened the door that took him out from behind the counter. “I can show—”
“No, that’s fine.” Jessie hurried to add. “Just direct me. I’ll find them.”
He frowned. “Well, there are many types—”
“Really, I don’t need any more help.” He was annoying as hell. Surely she could handle selecting a camera or two on her own.
The man stiffened but stayed put. “Third aisle on your left. When you’ve had a look, come back and I’ll tell you what might work best for your situation.”
That he’d decided she had a situation—which she did—was enough to ensure she wouldn’t be back to ask him anything. She left his pretentious ass to search out the camera aisle.
A man stood in it, his back to her. Tall, with broad shoulders. Long dark hair. Familiar. Her heart accelerated like a racehorse. She’d like to say it was fear, but a moment later she’d taken five steps toward him.
He turned to glance at her. Heavy, rounded features. And his profile revealed another rather large gut. His brows rose as he stared at her.
Embarrassed, she pivoted away. What the hell was that about? She didn’t want to be with Braden. The man was a psychopath. As well as a werewolf, she reminded herself. A memory of running paws and the soft light of a moonlit forest flitted through her brain.
And teeth,she thought fiercely.Don’t forget the teeth.Among other things best not considered.
Shaken, she grabbed the first cameras she saw. More money than she wished to spend, but she just needed to get out of there. Her next stop was the pursuit of food and a phone. By the time she pulled the vehicle up in front of her little house, it was getting dark. She examined her front door from her car. She had a small garage accessible from the back alley, but the street seemed safer.
Her door had never seemed so far away. She scanned Eugenie Street. It ended by splitting into lanes that curved around the houses on each side. If you kept going straight, you’d hit dense bushes that bordered the Seine River, a small tributary that wound its way through St. Boniface. In the winter, a person could walk on its frozen surface for miles. It was a highway to the country south of the city, or if you went north, it eventually connected to the much larger Red River.
Now, the trees were a dark mass at the end of the road and getting darker by the minute. Her tree appreciation exercise seemed a lifetime away. If she was going to do this, she’d better get it done.
She pulled a can of bear spray from the bag. Surely even a werewolf couldn’t tolerate a face full of the stuff? Jessie snapped the safety off and pulled the knife out, clipping the sheath to her belt.
That completed her best slayer-kickass-Rambo-esque impression. She hoped it would impress a werewolf, but experienced serious doubts on the issue. Stepping out of the car, she busied herself tucking the bags over and under her arms—no way she was making more than one trip. With a grunt, she heaved them all out of the back seat and bumped the door shut with her butt.
Jessie shuffled the whole mess of bags through the front door, slammed it, dropped everything, and raced to deactivate the alarm.
The house appeared secure. No werewolves had tried to force their way in during broad daylight. But the evening shadows had grown long, so she didn’t have much time to complete her next mission. Minutes later, she dangled from the top rung of a ladder in her backyard. She mounted the cameras in three spots with views of the lawn and lane. Then she added another on the front of the house, facing the street. While she was out there, a police car drove past to the lane entrance, turned around, and came back. She waved, but the officer didn’t respond.
Well, if the werewolf was really dumb, he might get spotted by Winnipeg’s finest. She wasn’t betting on it. As she stepped off the ladder, she practiced pulling the knife from the sheath. It had a little leather bit with a snap that kept the knife in place. After fumbling with it, she managed to undo it with one hand. On the third try.
That werewolf would be shaking in his shoes. Would getting stabbed even make him blink? He’d taken a full-force bony knee to the groin with barely a grunt.
