Master of Smoke

...
    David’s head didn’t even rock. He lowered his head, the better to subject Bill to a long, cool stare from his six-five height. “Do you really want your daughter in the line of fire? Because we both know she will not leave you.”
    Bill’s rage-narrowed eyes widened as the shot struck home. He glowered at David as Eva held her breath. Finally he threw up his hands. “Fine. I’m gone. Take her and get out of here. I’ll deal with that bastard later.” He threw the Jeep into gear as Eva slammed the driver’s door with a grunt of relief. The Tahoe’s big tires screeched as he backed up and tore out of the parking lot, almost hitting a pair of motorcycles and a Hummer.
    “Oh, man.” Eva shook her head as she watched the Tahoe’s taillights disappear up the street. “I hope that doesn’t blow up in our faces. I think Ronnie’s still in the county jail.”
    “Your father is the least of our worries.” He jerked his chin toward the Harley-Davidson motorcycles and the Hummer. All three vehicles had pulled over onto the side of the road. A street lamp illuminated the motorcyclists as they dismounted. Two others piled out of the Hummer. “Those men smell like were.”
    He was right. The scent of werewolf rode the cool night breeze: fur and magic and a trace of old blood. Claws, ripping into her guts, fanged jaws opening over her face, dripping hot saliva, the flash of yellow eyes ...
    “In the car!” Big hands closed over her shoulders. She cried out in terror, swinging wildly, but a fierce shake snapped her out of the flashback. “We don’t have time for that. Get in the car!” David snarled, jerking the driver’s door open and bundling her inside. “Drive!”
    He vaulted over the hood in one astonishing leap, jerked the passenger door open, tossed the blunt sword inside, and dove after it even as Eva started the car and threw it into reverse. She stomped the accelerator and sent the Focus shooting backward, tires squealing, forcing the two big men directly behind it to scatter. As she put the car in drive, she saw all four race across the parking lot after them. She floored it.
    Brakes squealed and a horn blared as the little Focus shot into traffic. Eva spun the wheel, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a Toyota. Somehow she got the car into the proper lane and floored it again. “Fasten your seat belt, David!” With one hand, she hauled her own belt out and fumbled until it snapped home.
    Darting a glance into the rearview mirror, Eva saw the four werewolves racing for the Hummer and their Harleys. They were still in human form, but she knew that wouldn’t last. And once they changed ...
    “You’re panicking,” David growled. “Calm down and drive.”
    Eva jolted, hearing herself chanting, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” in a mindless stream of profanity. She clamped her teeth shut and concentrated on dragging every possible ounce of speed out of the laboring Ford. Spotting a side street, she whipped down it, then took another left, then a right, glancing in the rearview mirror every few minutes as she drove, in the blind hope she’d shake the wolves.
    The two Harleys stayed stubbornly on her tail, their headlights bright in her mirror, the Hummer roaring after, its lights riding higher. If she couldn’t lose them ...
    Fangs ripped into her belly. Blood sprayed. Hot, bright agony. Oh, Christ, Oh, Jesus, he’s eating me ...!
    “Eva!” David’s roar snapped her back to full awareness just as the car’s right tires left the road, bumping over the thick grass of the shoulder. She jerked the wheel, overcorrected, and almost ran off the road on the left. Somehow she got the car back under control and tromped the accelerator again.
    Fighting terror, she blindly took turn after turn along the narrow county roads, trying to lose their pursuers. Yet the two bikes stayed stubbornly on her tail, hanging back just far enough not to lose sight of the Focus, sometimes whipping into oncoming traffic despite blaring horns and swerving cars.
    Dammit, where the hell were the cops? She’d be happy to get a ticket, if only a set of blue lights would show up to force those furry bastards to back off.
    Swallowing bile, she jerked the wheel for another tire-shrieking turn, ran a stop sign, and ignored the furious blare of a horn. “Call the fucking cops!” she spat at her rearview mirror.
    Which wasn’t a bad idea, if only her cell phone wasn’t buried somewhere in her purse. Which was