Wolf's Capture (12 page)

Ouch. Caveman wasn’t the only guy who winced. Brody barely restrained himself from cupping his own exposed sac.

Jackass cuffed the Neanderthal in the back of the head. “Leave the girl alone. She’s not the only one who’ll have your fucking balls if you lay a single finger on her.”

“Says the guy still pouring the juice into dickwad over here. The master warned us to keep the wolf alive. And in good shape. He won’t be too happy if he finds out you’ve ruined his plans.”

The current faded, yet Brody still feigned unconsciousness. It didn’t prevent the cuffs from getting placed around his wrists, or Layla’s, but at least he managed glimpses of their current location. He noted doorways and did his best to sift scents, separating fresh from old so he could try and estimate numbers.

He bit back some winces as they dragged him none too nicely down the wooden steps, scraping his shins. They’d pay for that when he escaped.

And he would escape.

A plan was forming. A plan he’d attempt real soon.

Back in their cage—home sweet home—the guards zapped them into compliance, unshackled them, and left.

Brody counted to three thousand so that anyone watching wouldn’t guess their little zap trick wasn’t working anymore before rolling on to his back and grinning at her. “So, when does your ravishing of my male parts begin?”

“Why you faker!” Why Layla was shocked at his possum play, she couldn’t have said. She’d thought it odd a big, strong guy like him succumbed so thoroughly to the zapping collars. She just assumed it affected shifters differently or that they had him on a higher voltage.

“Fake? Who me?” Brody attempted an innocent look.

As if it worked. She doubted he’d managed wide eyed innocence in years, if not decades.

“You can cut the puppy eyes. It won’t work.”

“What if I jutted my lower lip and batted my lashes?”

She snickered. “That’s just wrong.”

He grinned. “Fine. So I played possum.”

Wet strands of hair swung as Layla shook her head. “They’re going to catch on. Or had you forgotten the camera in here?”

“I didn’t forget, but I did notice on the way in that the lens got webbed while we showered.”

He’d noticed? She’d actually given the mental order to her eight-legged minion before they left the cell. Given master’s interest in her and Brody, she thought it best if he not have the ability to spy at all because, despite herself, she was interested in the wolf, and she knew their conversations, while often argumentative in nature, were stimulating. Too stimulating.

“They can still see a bit.”

“Which is why I faked being passed out even after they dumped me in here.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“The best kind, sweetheart. But don’t worry. We’ll be long gone before those idiots figure it out.”

“Oh really? And exactly how do you plan to manage that?”

“Are you ready to be impressed with my excellent strategy?”

“No, more like looking forward to poking holes in it.”

He clutched his chest. “You wound me. But it’s okay. I’ll live. Here’s the plan. We leave tomorrow morning when they bring breakfast. I was going to tell you to gum the camera with your little spider buddy overnight, but you’ve already taken care of that. Although it wouldn’t hurt to maybe add an extra layer. When the guards come in the morning and give me my morning jolt of electricity, I’ll fake my little jiggle. Then, when they open the cage, I’ll rush them and knock them out.”

“Wouldn’t it be more prudent to kill them so they don’t come after us?”

A grin stretched his lips. “A lady after my own heart. Yes, it would be more prudent, but I thought if I told you that part of the plan you’d go all girly on me. I was sparing your delicate sensibilities.”

Ah, how sweet. He’d used the word delicate in reference to her. It made her next words all the more ironic. “They’d hurt or kill me in an instant if ordered. So I say, twist their necks or rip out their hearts, or whatever it is you Lycans do.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Don’t thank me yet because, even if you kill them, I don’t see how you plan to escape.” She played Devil’s advocate. “Let’s say you make it out of this cage and then upstairs. You still can’t get out. The doorways will still trigger your collar. And even if they didn’t, have you forgotten the sniper on the roof and the dogs?” She itemized each of the roadblocks, and it didn’t budge his smile one bit.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got a plan.” Cocky confidence oozed from him.

“Why am I not reassured?” she muttered.

“Trust me.”

“Sorry, but I don’t trust anyone but myself.”

“Fair enough. But I’m telling you this plan will work. It’s not ideal. I mean, I would have preferred we leave at night, under the cover of darkness, but since I can’t pick the lock—”

“You want out of the cage at night? I can help with that.”

Interrupted, he ogled her a moment. “What do you mean you can help?”

“I can take care of the lock on the cage door.”

It took him a moment of staring at her before he replied. “You mean you’ve had a way out all this time and never said a word?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I was saving it because, like I told you, once I play that card, steps will be taken to prevent it on my next escape.” And yet, here she was telling Brody about it. Was she stupid? Or just curious to see if perhaps having someone else in charge of the escape for once would make a difference?

“So do you have a key stashed around here or something?”

“Let’s just say there’s no lock that my little bug friends can’t infiltrate and disable.”

“That’s brilliant.”

The amazement in his tone warmed her more than it should have. “Yeah, well, it’s also not something I like to advertise. Like I said, I was saving it for when I had a proper escape plan in place.”

“Which we now do.”

“Says you.”

“Knows me. Trust me.”

Trust? Such a simple request, and yet, Layla couldn’t help the doubt. No one she’d trusted in the past ever came through for her. But how she wanted to believe.

More questioning wouldn’t get him to reveal the rest of his plan. He kept replying with, “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

Having never had a partner for escape before, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Except for one thing. “You keep saying you’re bringing me with you, but you seem to have forgotten something. A certain tracking device in my body.”

“I hadn’t forgotten. I just hadn’t gotten to that part of the plan yet. As soon as the lights go out, I’ll remove it.”

“Excuse me? One, where is it, and two, how the hell do you plan to do it? With your teeth?” The idea of him gnawing on her flesh shouldn’t have made her shiver in pleasure.

“I spotted it in the shower and felt it when we were making out.”

Making out. What a trite description of the inferno he’d caused to rage in her body.

“So you found it. That still doesn’t tell me how you’re going to remove it.”

“Yeah, that part you probably won’t like.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Tell me.”

“Do I have to?” He tried giving her puppy dog eyes again.

She glared.

He held up his hands in surrender. “No need to give me a death stare. In order to extract it, I’m going to have to shift my hands—which isn’t easy I’ll have you know. Only strong shifters in tune with their other half can do it.”

“Give the wolf a bone. Would you like me to applaud your skill?”

“No respect,” he mumbled.

She cocked her head and cupped a hand to her ear. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“It’s the world’s tiniest violin playing a tune for you. Get over yourself. Once you shift your hands, then what?” Although she feared she already knew the answer.

“My claws are sharp enough to slice through your skin. One little gash and I’ll pop the tracker out.”

A wince twisted her lips. “Sounds like it will hurt.”

“Yeah. It probably will.” He didn’t sugarcoat it.

“Won’t that make me bleed?”

“Again, yes, which is why we have to wait for darkness. Then no one can see me doing it, and we can wash out the wound and bind it with the sheets.”

She didn’t like this part of his plot, but she knew Brody had to do it if escape fifty-seven was to have even a glimmer of hope.

“This plan better work,” she grumbled.

“It will.”

And if not, there was always attempt fifty-eight.

The rest of the day passed with agonizing slowness. She tried to read while he napped, but she kept finding her gaze straying to him. At least he’d put pants on. But it didn’t erase the memory of what she’d seen and felt.

How she wanted to pretend he didn’t appeal. That he didn’t arouse. But everything about him fascinated her. Even their arguments.

Supper time came with its usual zap, which rendered her obedient—she couldn’t control anybody, not even a tiny fly when the current rocked her. Brody hit the floor with his usual thud.

She found it hard to eat as excitement, tinged with dread, tightened her tummy into a ball.

As her internal clock began insisting lights out approached, she prepared for bed, just managing to hit the sheets before darkness hit with its usual suddenness.

For a moment, silence reigned, and she almost held her breath, which was silly. No one could hear her right now except for Brody. Brody, who was somewhere in the dark, possibly already transforming his hands into primitive surgical instruments.

What if he screws up, and I bleed to death?

What if the tracker is too deep?

This is going to hurt.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

Not really, but she’d still try. There was no point in trying to escape while that thing was inside her.

She lay on her stomach and felt Brody kneel by her side. His hand came to rest on the middle of her back. Even with her gown between them, she could feel the difference in the shape and texture.

“You need to pull this up.”

As she tugged her gown up to her shoulders, only blushing slightly in the darkness as she bared her body, she heard the sound of material ripping.

“Are you lying down again?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m doing this by feel, which is not the best-case scenario.”

“You can do this, right?” She sought reassurance.

“I think so.”

She stiffened.

He chuckled. “Relax. This will work. So long as you don’t flinch.”

“Just do it,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

The tip of a nail dragged across her upper left shoulder blade. She held her breath at the pressure of the slice and sharp pain as he punctured skin.

Warm liquid rolled down her side.

She squeaked before she buried her face in the pillow, biting down on the spongy material. His claw probed in the opening, really not a pleasant sensation.

Just when she wanted to scream, “Stop!” he withdrew.

“Got it.”

Breathing through the pain, it took her a moment to reply. “You did?” Yeah, she sounded surprised. She’d not actually expected it to work.

“Of course. I’m going to leave it in your bed instead of crushing it. It might buy us some time.”

Done playing canine doctor on her back, Brody used the strips of cloth he’d ripped to bind her wound, which now only emitted a dull throb.

As he worked, Layla kept her mind occupied, sending her multi-legged minion to work, gumming the camera lens further to buy them extra time in the morning in case no one noted their nocturnal escape. She also got her spider to click the tumblers to the locking mechanism on the cage.

Those things accomplished, they then sat and waited. Lights out for them didn’t mean the household above them went to bed. Footsteps wandered. Water rattled the pipes. Only when the sounds of activity died down did Brody finally deem it safe enough—what a misnomer—for them to venture out of the silver prison.

Despite her misgivings, Layla couldn’t help the glimmer of hope that insisted this escape would succeed.

Imagine what it would be like to finally be free.

She couldn’t. But she sure wanted to see what it felt like.

Brody didn’t need to place his fingers on her lips for her to know quiet was necessary. As he led her through the pitch-black basement, his strong fingers laced through hers, she had to trust he wouldn’t walk her into a wall.

She made it to the stairs without bashing her face. With one hand braced against the stone blocks to guide her, she let her bare feet do the rest, stepping slowly on to each stair tread as they made their way to the top, where a tiny sliver of light outlined the door.

“Stay.” He whispered the word, and she halted a few steps below him.

She knew what lay beyond the door. A kitchen. Not a very pretty one with grimy white cabinets, most missing their doors , a pitted wooden countertop, and a rickety round table with a few chairs, usually manned by a pair of guys playing cards or eating.

Leaning against the stone wall, she strained to hear if anyone awaited them on the other side of the door.

Not a sound. Not even the snore of a sleeping guard. Which made the creak of the hinge as Brody swung open the door super loud. But it wasn’t as loud as the uttered, “What the f—”

Crack
.
Thump
.

At Brody’s beckoning hand, Layla climbed the rest of the steps and stepped into the room.

A body lay on the floor, Stickboy staring sightlessly.

One down.

Judging by the continued silence, no one suspected anything was amiss.

Brody winked at her as he again placed his finger on his lips in a shushing gesture. On bare feet, he eased to the doorway leading out to the rest of the house. He peeked and sniffed.

But at least he didn’t mark the wall to show he’d been there.

She stuffed a fist in her mouth, lest she let out a giggle.

While he checked the hall, she perused the door in the kitchen that led outside. The shiny new deadbolt was drawn and required a key to unlock. A precaution installed since one of her escapes.

She called her little spider minion to take care of it, but lost her train of thought when Brody grasped her by the arm and tugged her in the opposite direction.