Quinn's Quest: Legacy, Book 4 (8 page)

“Anything seem familiar?” Quinn had asked her the same question every five minutes for the entire two hours. His desperation was getting to her, making her feel like a failure for not being able to pinpoint the right building immediately.

Why hadn’t she paid more attention? Because she’d been too busy running for her life. She knew that but it didn’t make this situation any easier for any of them.

She shook her head. “No. Nothing.” She ignored him as best she could. It really was impossible to ignore six-foot-two of lean muscle and barely leashed power.

Bethany was surprised they weren’t having any trouble with the gangs of young men who were hanging around. Of course, this early in the morning most of them had disappeared off the streets and were sleeping wherever it was they called home. A motley trio with tattoos and piercings had approached them about an hour ago. Quinn had turned their way and growled, his teeth lengthening and his face changing until it resembled that of a wolf. The men had yelled and taken off as fast as their legs could carry them, one of them saying a Hail Mary as he ran. She would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

Seeing him change like that was a stark reminder of what he was. Part animal. Just like Brian. Maybe all the men were like that, more beasts than men. She knew the comparison probably wasn’t fair, but she reminded herself that she really didn’t know Quinn, or any of them for that matter. They needed something from her—information and help. What would happen if she couldn’t deliver? Icy tendrils traced down her back, making her shiver. She pulled her fleece sweater tighter around her body, hoping to trap more of her body heat.

“You okay?” Another familiar question from Quinn. Somehow when they’d split into groups to search, he’d ended up with her. Not that she was complaining. She felt more at ease with him than she did with any of the others, with the exception of Meredith and Neema. Talking with them even briefly had made them much more approachable.

Bethany rubbed her forehead. Her head was pounding and even the roots of her hair ached. She was beyond exhausted and working strictly on autopilot. With every breath she took her nostrils were filled with the stench of garbage, dirt and layers of fuel and exhaust from the vehicles that traversed the streets daily. She was so tired even the rutted street was starting to look inviting. Maybe she could lie down for a minute. She immediately vetoed the idea. Who knew what kind of dirt and filth was layered there. She’d have to hold on a bit longer.

“I’m fine.” She even managed to make her words sound half-believable. What else could she tell him? His sister was out there. Somewhere. And Bethany had failed to get help right away. She owed him as much as she owed Chrissten.

She needed to focus. Blocking out the large male hovering next to her, she concentrated on her surroundings. Did the buildings across the street look familiar?

Maybe?

She started across the road with Quinn tight on her heels. She couldn’t resist a quick sniff. He smelled so good to her. Better than chocolate cake with dark fudge frosting. She could eat him up.

Focus
, she reminded herself. Her body was already reacting to his nearness, her nipples puckering and her pussy clutching. Her skin was clammy. Her clothing felt too tight. She might be exhausted but she wasn’t dead.

“Bethany.” The low, intimate tone in his voice sent a pulse of heat flooding between her thighs. “I can smell your arousal. It’s sweet and spicy.”

Oh God. He could smell her. Of course he could. If she could smell him, he could do the same with her. He could already change into his wolf, which meant his senses were even keener than hers.

Chrissten had told her that would happen. And she would know. She’d already made her transition. Bethany swallowed hard as terror flooded through her, driving out the arousal. She couldn’t imagine what Chrissten had suffered at the hands of Brian.

She hurried forward, needing to get away from Quinn. Needed to be able to breathe. She hurried down the split and pitted sidewalk. Suddenly she froze, her nostrils flaring and her eyes narrowing. This place was familiar. She was certain of it.

She stopped so fast Quinn almost rammed into her. He caught himself and placed his hands on her shoulders. She sensed the aura of anticipation surrounding him, but he remained quiet, letting her do what she needed to do.

Instinct had her turning right. She was almost one hundred percent certain this was the way they needed to go. Quinn pulled out his phone and made a quick call. She knew he was pulling in reinforcements, telling the rest of the group where they were headed.

She swerved left, running now as she headed down an empty alleyway. A sense of certainty filled her when she recognized the graffiti sprayed across the building. Quinn gave a growl beside her and then he was passing her. He’d caught a scent.

Bethany hurried to keep up with him, but it wasn’t easy. He was practically a blur as he rounded the corner. She was right behind him. There. Up ahead was a dilapidated building. The front boards had been torn away from the doorway. This close, she could smell herself, the blood she’d left on the wood as she’d struggled to get away.

Quinn tore at what was left of the boards, flinging them to the side. By the time she reached him he was already inside. She heard Isaiah call her name but didn’t stop. There was no time to waste.

It was much harder to go back inside than she’d imagined it would be. Her heart pounded as she paused at the place on the steps where she’d left Chrissten. She leaned down and pressed her hand against the scarred wood. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She already knew her friend was no longer here. The place felt abandoned. Empty. They’d moved on and taken Chrissten with them. They were too late.

Bethany’s heart ached. She’d failed. Her legs were like lead weights, her heart heavy as she descended into her own personal hell. Footfalls behind her were blocked by the unholy howl of pain that ripped through the air.

Quinn
.

He’d found the empty cell. Bethany went to him, not knowing what she would do when she found him. “Sorry” was just a word. There was nothing she could say or do to take away his pain.

He was sitting on Chrissten’s bunk, her pillow clutched in his arms. He looked broken. Lost. The bunk across from him was empty. The blanket partially dragged on the floor. Bethany refused to look at it. The walls seemed to close in around her, threatening to crush her. She swallowed her pain and the nightmares pushing at the fringes of her consciousness. Quinn needed her.

She went to him, drawn by his pain, and sat beside him. “I’m so sorry.” Such inadequate words, but they were all she had to offer.

He shook his head and stood. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as his gaze turned icy. He tossed the pillow back onto the bed and strode from the room without a backward glance.

Bethany remained. She felt small. Afraid. Defeated. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel Chrissten beside her, hear her voice urging her to run. A door slammed and she jumped. Afraid of being locked inside, she hurried out of the room and almost knocked Hank over. She knew all of their names now, had been introduced on the ride over, but that was all she knew about them. He was tall and blond and quiet.

He grabbed her by the upper arms and steadied her. “You okay?” She could see the honest concern written all over his face but didn’t quite know how to answer his question.

Was she okay? She didn’t think she’d ever be okay again. Her life was one big mess. Nothing was what she’d thought it was. Who the hell would believe her if she told them what she was? They’d lock her up. If they believed her they’d be afraid of her. Instead of coming to understand herself better she felt even more isolated than she had. More alone.

Ignorance was sometimes bliss. She hadn’t known that before.

“I’m fine.” She had to be. There was no other choice.

But Hank wasn’t listening to her. All his attention was on the bed behind her. His hands fell away from her arms and he walked around her, heading straight to Chrissten’s bunk. He picked up her pillow, put his nose to it and inhaled.

She knew he was getting Chrissten’s scent to help him track her better. Bethany understood that. Yet, watching him, she was struck by how intimate an act it seemed to be. Unlike Quinn, he didn’t toss the pillow away, but tucked it under his arm.

“You ready?”

He appeared larger than he had even a few moments before. More determined. Dangerous. She couldn’t forget for even one moment that all these men were deadly predators beneath their human exterior.

She nodded and they left the small room behind. Bethany followed Hank into the laboratory area. She shivered when she came face-to-face with the stainless-steel table with its metal arm and leg straps. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying aloud as the memory of being strapped down, helpless to do anything as the doctor poke, prodded and experimented on her assailed her. She wanted to find something heavy and beat the table until there was nothing left of it.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and held it together as the other members of their group opened drawers, searching for clues. Quinn rifled through Doctor Morton’s desk, but it was empty except for some blank sheets of paper and a few disposable pens. Everything was gone.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted it out, unable to keep it inside her any longer. “It’s all my fault. If I’d acted quicker. Done more.” She really didn’t know what else to say. Chrissten was still missing, still held captive by a crazy man and a werewolf and it was all her fault.

Quinn crouched in front of a stainless-steel cabinet searching for clues. He stopped what he was doing, stood and came to her, his stride fluid, the lines of worry around his eyes deeper than they’d been only a few hours before. “It’s not your fault.” He cupped the side of her face and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. The small gesture of kindness almost broke her.

She sucked in a breath and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, not wanting to break down in front of everyone. “It is.”

“No. It’s the fault of a few crazy people. You’re an innocent victim too. We know more than we did before. We know she’s still alive. We can find out who owned this property and if they have more in the city and beyond. We have names to search. If there’s any records out there, Craig will find them.”

Isaiah walked over to stand beside them. His expression was grim. Fury emanated from him in waves even as his face remained a mask of outward control. “Damek will be able to help as soon as we get word to him about what we know. He has resources we can tap into.”

Bethany took a step away, not wanting to be so close to the angry werewolf. “Who is Damek?” Was he another werewolf? A human?

One corner of Isaiah’s mouth quirked upward. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

Chapter Four

The nightmare came slowly, creeping into his exhausted brain. He didn’t want to dream but he had no control over his sleeping hours. After having the nightmare so many times, it was almost like an old friend. Guilt was a powerful emotion and it clutched Quinn tight in its icy grip.

He crept along the narrow wood trail. Jones was on his right and Collins was farther ahead on the trail. They were tracking werewolves. Purebloods. Quinn would have been more than content to live and let live, but he knew his fellow bounty hunters wouldn’t see things his way. In their world, the only good wolf was a dead one.

The group was tight knit and existed only to kill the paranormal creatures they hated so much. They had no idea they had a half-breed in their midst. If they did, they’d kill him in a heartbeat. Quinn didn’t want to be here but he had no other choice. He had to find his sister. Any scrap of information that might lead him to her was worth pursuing.

“Up ahead,” Jones whispered.

Quinn knew he had to get his head back in the game. A pureblood werewolf was nothing to screw around with. This one was especially vicious. He’d killed a woman back in Kentucky. Quinn knew that for a fact so he wasn’t particularly upset about hunting him. He also knew this particular wolf belonged to a pack that believed anyone or anything other than a pureblooded werewolf was fair game. Quinn had hunted his kind before, and while he hated to kill another werewolf, sometimes there wasn’t any choice.

He moved his feet slowly, careful not to step on any twigs or dried leaves. Werewolves had exceptional hearing. He should know. He could hear Collins stomping around like an elephant up ahead.

Thankfully, they were downwind so their scent wouldn’t carry. Werewolves also had a superior sense of smell.

An eerie silence suddenly settled over the woods. Quinn froze and sank down behind an oak tree. He motioned to Jones to do the same. The birds had gone quiet around them. A sure sign a predator was nearby.

Quinn scanned the area, using his preternatural vision to try to find the wolf. The fine hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Instinct had Quinn rolling and firing his rifle at the same time. He hit the wolf straight in the chest with a powerful round, blowing a large hole in the beast.

It fell, hitting the dirt ground with a dull thud. The wolf growled as it started to bleed out. Quinn rolled to his feet, walked over to it and stared down into very familiar eyes. Sorrow hit him like a thunderbolt. He gave an anguished cry and dropped to his knees, gathering the wolf to him. “Chris?” The creature changed, morphing not back into a large male pureblooded werewolf but into his beloved sister.

He’d killed her.

“What the hell are you doing, Quinn?” Jones asked. “Finish the bitch off.”

The sound of a gun being cocked brought him to his feet. With a roar, he lunged at the other man, yanking at his clothing and changing as he flew through the air. His sharp fangs bit through bone. Blood splattered over him, coating his fur. Some hit his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

He blinked to clear his vision as Jones continued to struggle. But his attempts to free himself from Quinn’s strong jaws were feeble at best and eventually stopped all together.