Wolf's Capture (13 page)

What was he doing? Where was he going? The door to escape was behind them.

He must have seen the confusion because he took a moment to pause and only a hairsbreadth from her ear whispered, “No doors because of the shock collars.”

Good reason, but still no doors? That left windows that were painted or nailed shut. No way would he escape without making a racket.

It looked as if she’d have to start planning escape fifty-eight after all. Despite her conviction they would fail, she allowed him to lead her on tiptoe down the hall. He ignored the door to the bathroom, the window in there too small for either of them. He ignored the silent dining room and the living room.

Where did he stop? In front of the one closed door in the place. The one that held a pair of bunk beds for guards to sleep in. She’d seen the space before on one of her many parades past it to visit with the master.

Given the time of night, there was no way the room wouldn’t hold any occupants. It didn’t stop the crazy wolf.

He eased the door open, letting loose the sounds of several men sleeping, their snores and wheezing breaths giving their presence away.

She didn’t enter with Brody, especially not once she saw the glint of the knife in his hand, a knife he’d either pilfered from the kitchen or from the body he’d left behind.

It took him mere moments to do his thing. He then beckoned her into the space. Even her less-than-refined nose recognized the coppery stink of blood.

She clamped her lips and wouldn’t allow either horror at his actions or pity to affect her. These men were vile. Criminals and thugs. They’d gotten only what they deserved.

Brody closed the door behind her and went to the window, which gaped a few inches, the cool evening air wafting in. It seemed he’d found the one window in the house that still worked.

Fresh air, how she loved it. It was one of the highlights when the master brought her out to perform his evil bidding.

Brody leaned in close to impart some instructions. “When we get outside,” not
if
, “you take care of the dogs you said he keeps around while I take care of the sentries.”

She nodded.

Grasping the wooden sash, Brody heaved. The wood, warped by weather and time, wouldn’t budge. He pushed again, and this time the window shot up, the noise loud in the silent night.

A voice from outside called out. “What the fuck was that?”

To her surprise, Brody answered, albeit sporting an accent she’d only ever heard her captors use. “Fucking pinhead farted in here again. I swear I’m going to fucking kill him, eh.”

Apparently, his answer satisfied because a masculine laugh erupted from outside. “That’s what happens when you eat beans for lunch and dinner.”

Brody crouched by the window, watching the darkness outside. Meanwhile, Layla couldn’t help the creeping horror factor of being in a room with several bodies. Dead bodies. Bodies she could touch if she reached out a hand.

And what if they reached out first?

Her breathing quickened, and Brody noted it.

“Calm yourself, sweetheart. We’ll be out of here in a minute. You ready to make some puppies roll over and have their bellies scratched?”

That was right. She had a task.
Take care of the master’s dogs.

She nodded her head, despite the darkness, guessing from her experience with wolves that he’d discern it. They could see much better than her in the absence of light.

“Let’s go then.”

Brody eased through the rectangular casement first and dropped to the ground. Inching to the window, she peeked out and could faintly make out his hands held out to catch her.

As if she needed help climbing. She’d clambered out of tighter, higher spots. But she didn’t argue the masculine hands that gripped her around the waist and brought her to the ground.

He didn’t linger. Off he padded to do whatever came next in his plan, which, she had to admit, was doing pretty good so far.

But I’ve gotten farther than this before and still managed to fail.

This time, though, she wasn’t alone. Maybe this time could be different.

Out in the open, it wasn’t hard for her to cast her senses and find the minds of the dogs, sleeping in a heap on the porch. They already knew her mental touch and thus didn’t fight it as she soothed their impulse to bark at the wolf they scented encroaching on their territory. She eased their mouth-watering hunger as the scent of blood enticed.

Sleep. It’s all but a dream. No one to see here. No reason to bark.

A pity she couldn’t hypnotize herself. She squeaked when a furry nose nudged her hand. Brody had shifted into his wolf.

A low growl emanated from the fluffy pile of dogs, the primal instinct to protect themselves from an animal higher on the food chain almost wrenching her grip on them. She soothed the huskies’ fear.

The wolf wandered off, blending into the deep shadows. She wondered where Brody went and what he planned to do.

It was an odd quirk of her power that while she could virtually
see
animals and some insects, humans and shifters were blind to her unless she saw them through the eyes of the animals she controlled or her own, plain old human, eyesight.

She bit back a scream as Brody nosed her again, this time urging her to move away from the house, where there was still no sign of alarm.

It seemed almost too easy. Then again, given Brody’s penchant for not leaving anyone alive to announce their escape, perhaps not. Still, unease plagued her even as her fingers tangled in the thick fur surrounding his neck and clasped the collar he still wore. He guided her around the house to the garage.

Surely he wasn’t thinking of stealing a truck? The noise alone would announce far and wide their escape.

She stumbled when he halted. The fur on his back bristled and brushed her hand. What did he hear? Straining to hear, she had to admit defeat as not a sound broke the silence.

He shook her free and padded away in the darkness, leaving her alone to shiver and hug herself.

What am I doing? I should be running.
Without Brody?

Why not? Sure, he’d gotten them this far—
with my help
—but ultimately, he had a different objective than her. As far as she knew, he planned to bring her back to Kodiak Point, where perhaps she’d end up a prisoner again.

Never.

I have a better idea. While he’s distracted, I should strike out on my own.

Would he waste time tracking her down? Or would he try and put as much distance as he could between himself and the master?

Brody said to trust him.

But if she did and he lied?

Before she could talk herself out of it, her feet were moving. She cast her senses forth and settled on some nocturnal creatures winging overhead to serve as her warning eyes.

Bats, while blind, possessed incredible radar senses when it came to noting other hot-blooded creatures. With them flying ahead of her, she had them seek out possible traps, also known as people with guns.

But it seemed Brody was thorough. She almost stumbled over one dead body on her flight, then nothing. Nothing but branches and darkness and a pounding heart.

No warning cries came from behind her.

Nothing out of place tingled the senses of the bats she controlled.

It was just her, alone in the forest, fleeing. Without a tracking device!

Oh my god. I’m escaping. It’s happening. It’s—

A sharp crack broke the silence. One gunshot. Then two. Then some yells.

It seemed Brody had gotten noticed.

Damn it.

She quickened her pace, ignoring the stitch in her side as she ran, her bare feet protesting the abuse of rocks and twigs against her soles. Bruises and scratches would heal. She needed to keep moving. Needed to get as far as she could.
I also need to hide my trail.
For that, she needed water. Even a creek would do to mask her scent.

And quick, because that was the sound of a dirt bike. Make that dirt bikes coming after her.

I can’t let them catch me.

She sent out a mental mission. There wasn’t much around here, the master having exhausted most of the wildlife in the area. But she did have her aerial minions who took off, ironically, like bats out of hell.

The garage Brody entered, which was in better shape than the house, had a few more men in it than expected. They were also more alert. The squeak of the door as Brody pawed it open didn’t go unnoticed, but at least the guy who got off a shot had shitty aim. The bullet went whizzing by his ear, as opposed to causing some difficulties by hitting something vital.

One missed bullet. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. It would only take one lucky shot to put a wolf down.

In he charged, teeth bared, hackles bristling, and ready to cause some damage. He dashed at the gunman, who popped up from the bed of his pickup truck with a loaded shotgun.

Boom
!

A few stray pellets stung his hide—
and wrecked my beautiful fur!—
but the majority missed, and he leapt to the bed of the truck. One good chomp was all it took to stop a guy he’d never seen before from firing ever again.

The next dude proved a little harder to deal with, given he slept in the loft above. Wolves and ladders didn’t exactly go well together. He’d have to climb because the little prick wasn’t coming down.

With no choice, Brody ducked behind a wheel well and shifted to his human shape. It almost cost him as a missile grazed the tip of his shoulder. It would heal. The hole he put in the shooter’s forehead once he snagged his dead buddy’s gun? Not so much.

Two down, not bad, except for the fact a third, a gutless seal, ran off screaming for help. Coward.

Time to get his ass moving before Brody discovered just how many men really were roaming around. He’d already taken out quite a few, but according to his nose, there were plenty more moving in and out of the area. Troublemakers and clan outcasts, who banded under the hooded one in charge, determined to cause chaos.

I need to tell Reid what I know.
And get Layla away before she was forced to do more damage to Kodiak Point.

On foot, they’d never make it far enough. Speed was of essence. He quickly analyzed his options, aware of the distant shouts and slams of doors. He had only moments before he’d have company.

The pickup truck was out of commission with the flat tire the idiot in the loft gave it. That left an SUV and a battered four-door sedan, plus a pair of dirt bikes. Given he preferred to remain off the main roads, he shot the tires on the four-wheeled vehicles, rendering them useless for the moment.

They would have provided a comfortable ride,
his wolf chided.

Screw comfort. Brody needed cross-country versatility, the kind he could get with two wheels.

His wolf snorted at his justification.

Okay, you caught me,
he told his furry friend. It wasn’t just about practicality. Brody just loved dirt biking.

Soaring off a hillock, hitting with a hard thump, the excitement of dipping and weaving? Good times. Times that resulted in more than a few scrapes, bruises, and broken bones. He’d come home after those incidents to hear his mother shake her head and tsk. “Boys and their toys.”

Less toy in this situation than tool—fun tool that used gas and went
Vroom
. His man card swelled in pride.

Given the unknown terrain, two rugged wheels with a forgiving suspension would totally work. And it also meant Layla would have to hold on tight.

As he strode, naked as the day of his birth, he wished he had time to grab some clothes. Riding bare-assed on a motor bike wouldn’t prove comfortable. Vinyl style seats rubbed. Ow. And he’d rather not recall the reason he knew this, although it had proved a valuable lesson. He’d never touched Uncle Jay’s moonshine again. Hell no, not when his ass ached every time he thought of it.

Brody grabbed the first dirt bike and prayed it had gas. It felt kind of light, but the one behind it sloshed nicely. It would have to do because he was out of time. He needed to get Layla out of here because the remaining enemy in the house had hit the outside.

Speaking of his lady bait, what were the chances Layla still waited for him? He knew he took a chance of her slipping away while he dealt with transportation, but a part of him hoped she wouldn’t. That she would trust him, although he couldn’t have said why this was important.

What if she ran?

His wolf practically danced in excitement.
Chase.

Run if you want, Bait. Hide. We do so love to seek.

Awoo.

Of course, chasing was only fun when he was the one on the hunt. In this case, he still needed to shake some miscreants off his tail.

Brody had no sooner wheeled the bike clear of the garage when the first bullet hit the ground to his left.

“Missed,” he hollered, the taunt making him grin. Nothing like pissing off the enemy and getting them to fire wildly. He also liked to tempt fate—and dance with death.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins and gave him the illusion of invincibility. Knowing it was a false euphoria didn’t stop him from adding fuel to the taunt by yelling, “Come and get me, you gutless cowards.” Another bullet hit the ground by his foot and another went over his head.

Time to go.

Brody howled as he gunned the bike to life.

With a spray of dirt, he took off, trying to spot Layla’s white gown in the darkness shrouding the land around the ramshackle house and garage.

Nothing.

The bark of dogs, as they woke to the chaos, led him to believe one of two things. Either, one, Layla was already back in custody and unable to control them, or, two, she’d booked it.

He wagered on the second.

Given he could hear revving engines—more bikes stashed somewhere on the property about to give chase—he needed to choose a direction. He sniffed for options and came up with a pair of possible plans. A, He could follow the faint trail of cinnamon and the woman he didn’t know what to think of, or, B, He could go off in a different direction and hope that, by splitting the enemy he’d improve his chances on making it to either a phone or help.