“Lyla, has anybody moved?” He kept his voice low as he spoke into the phone and crossed the street. Gage followed him.
“Not so far.”
“Okay, good. Gage, you’re going for the guy on the second floor, right? Or you want to come with me to the basement first and take him out later?”
They slipped down the driveway of the house directly behind the one where Elizabeth was being held.
“I’m going to take the second floor,” Gage said. They reached the end of the driveway and peeked over the fence into the backyard. It was quiet and deserted. Good. There was a tall wooden fence separating the two yards, and a large maple tree in the backyard of the house in question.
Gage indicated it with his chin. “We can jump the fence behind that tree and then head down the side of the yard. But there’s a clear line of sight from the back sliders along that side.”
Cray nodded, taking in the situation. “There’s a good chance they'll know we’re coming.”
Gage nodded in agreement, squinting. "They’ll expect us to go for the weak point at the back sliders if they see us. I’ll go up that single story there instead,” he indicated a porch-like structure on the side of the house, “and through that window. I’ll handle the one upstairs and you take care of the one in the basement. Then we can meet in the middle and deal with the guy watching the back."
"Good," Cray said. "Let's go."
They vaulted the fence and ran along the side of the yard. Just as Cray was about to leave the shelter of the tree and race down the side yard, he heard Lyla’s voice.
“Cray? One of them is moving. The one on the first floor. It looks like he’s headed for the basement.”
“Thanks, Lyla,” he whispered into the phone. “Talk to you later.” He tucked the phone in his pocket without disconnecting and gestured Gage forward.
They raced down the outer edge of the yard, and Gage scrambled up the side of the porch. Cray reached the basement window and peered inside. It was probably just big enough for him to fit through. He couldn’t see Elizabeth, or anyone else either. It looked like some kind of laundry room. Just then, he felt a blast of pain through the bond— and that was it.
He kicked in the window and followed it down, sliding feet-first into the basement in a shower of glass. A figure appeared in the door of the laundry room. Cray drove to the left as the sharp pop of a suppressed bullet echoed through the small room. Cray hit the floor and rolled toward his attacker. He grabbed the leg of a wooden drying rack as he shot by, whipping it up and into his assailant’s face. There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the small room, but the man stumbled back under Cray’s bludgeoning onslaught. Not that the rack weighed anything, but it was all sharp angles and wicked metal brackets.
Cray launched himself off the floor in one fluid movement, dropping the splintered rack and taking the man down hard on the concrete floor. The two of them lay sprawled half in, half out of the doorway, constrained within its framework. Fortunately, Cray was on top.
There was a brief, fierce struggle for the gun, which went off again, but missed him. Cray struggled forward, pushing against the floor with his knees, and managed to clamp his hand around the wrist holding the gun. He smashed his elbow back into the guy’s temple with his other arm. The man went limp.
Cray rolled over, preparing to pull himself out of the doorway. Another man was standing over him silently. Pointing a gun.
Fuck!
There was a sound from behind them— a strangled whimper.
Elizabeth!
The man’s attention slipped for a fraction of a second. Cray knifed up feet first, pushing off his hands and shoulders. He kicked the guy in the chest, not quite the face as he’d intended, but it was enough to knock him off balance. Unfortunately, so was Cray. He landed in a heap, half tangled on his first assailant, and not quite out of the doorway. The second man scrambled to his knees, swinging the gun toward Cray. Cray lunged forward and knocked it aside just as the man fired, following up with a satisfying backhanded fist to face. The guy flopped to the floor. There was a loud clunk as his head hit the concrete. He didn't move.
Done with this one.
Cray gritted his teeth and surged to his feet, reaching Elizabeth in two quick strides. She was lying on her side in the middle of what looked like the main room of the basement. Tied to a chair. Dear Maiden. His gut clenched as he dropped to his knees beside her.
“Elizabeth! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Cray?” She sounded groggy. “Cray, my arm. My shoulder. Untie me? Be—” She grunted as he pulled at the duct tape covering the knots on her wrists. “Careful,” she choked out.
His heart clenched at the sudden jolt of pain shooting through the bond.
“I’ve got you.” He carefully picked her up, chair and all, and set her upright. He kissed the top of her head. “Stay right here, okay?” Untying her was going to take a minute. He wasn’t going to do this with two unsecured hostiles in the room behind him. There was a handy roll of duct tape right there on the worktable. How nice.
The room was set up as some kind of workshop, with a large peg board along one wall, tools hanging neatly from hooks along its surface. Cray grabbed the tape and strode over to the men sprawled across the floor. He kicked the guns away.
“I should just kill them,” he said to himself. He was within his rights. Defending his mate.
“Don’t kill them.” Elizabeth’s voice was shaky. “Even goons have mothers.”
Cray made a face. He wouldn’t kill them. Not now. Maybe in the heat of battle—
There was a clatter from above, and Gage appeared at the top of the basement stairs. “Everything good down here?”
“Good enough,” Cray said. “Come tie up these dirt bags for me.” He wrapped tape around the first guy’s wrists as he spoke. The one from the laundry room, who was showing signs of life. The other one was still out for the count. “Cover their mouths too. I need to untie Elizabeth.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, sounding more like herself. “Someone needs to untie Elizabeth.”
Cray felt the clenching in his chest ease for the first time since that blast of fear had hit him in the coffee shop. He stood and handed Gage the tape. “Your guy?”
Gage just shook his head. Cray’s mouth tightened. There was no Law against killing to protect Pack. But here in this human suburb? Usually this type of thing happened on pack territory. It made him nervous. “Did you shift?”
“Half.”
Damn. That was forbidden. Well, not precisely forbidden, but definitely frowned upon. Of course that never stopped Gage. He’d been fond of half-shifting since he was a kid. An adolescent, really. It wasn’t easy, not everyone had the concentration to maintain that unnatural state, halfway between man and wolf, and Gage had always enjoyed showing off.
Cray shook his head. “We better get the hell out of here.” He tried not to imagine what a forensic team would make of the man’s injuries. Cray walked over to the peg board and grabbed a sharp-looking pair of scissors. He stood behind Elizabeth and leaned over the chair to press his cheek gently to hers. “Tell me where it hurts, honey, just your arm?”
“Left arm, left shoulder. I think maybe it’s broken.” He could hear the tears trying to clog her throat, feel them clustering in her chest. “I’m getting married in four days!”
The almost wail went straight to his heart. Elizabeth did not wail.
“I know, baby. Me too. It will be okay.” He crouched down and began carefully cutting through the rope and tape that held her to the chair, freeing first her right arm and then her left. She sat frozen in the chair, afraid to move. Cray could feel that fear coursing through the bond. He wanted to hit something. He ran his hands down her arm, searching for a break, but he didn’t find one. “Can you move it? Just a little?”
Cautiously, Elizabeth pulled her arm from behind her, down to her side, and then rotated it like she was checking her palm. “It’s sore. But—” She ran her
other hand down her arm. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
She let out a huge breath while Cray moved around to her front and made quick work of the bindings on her legs. He was about to lift her into his arms when her eyes went wide.
“Cray! We have to leave. Now! The big boss is coming. I just remembered. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Will he now?” Cray considered what he’d like to do with this big boss. “Is he the one you’ve been hiding from all this time?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Let’s just get out of here and we can talk about it later!”
Cray narrowed his eyes, not quite convinced, but he decided Elizabeth had had enough for one day. “Fine. We’re leaving. Give me one minute.”
He pushed to his feet and strode over to the work table, grabbing a bottle of industrial strength cleaner and some paper towels. He wiped off the scissors and, holding them with a paper towel, hung them back on the peg. He tossed the cleaner to Gage, followed by the paper towels. Then he pulled Elizabeth up, gently enfolding her in his arms. She was trembling. Truth be told, so was he. If anything had happened to Elizabeth—
His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He couldn’t even think it. He turned to Gage.
“Wipe the tape,” he said. “And the chair. And then the bottle. Not the guns. Anything upstairs you have to take care of?”
Gage nodded and spritzed the tape, then swiped it with a paper towel. “I’ll go up and do that and then go out the back. Meet you at the car.”
Cray nodded in acknowledgement. With Elizabeth tucked to his side, he led her around the two men now trussed up on the floor and grabbed the crumpled drying rack. She gave him a quizzical look.
“Souvenir.” They couldn’t afford to leave fingerprints. Not if they were going to the police with this. And they were. He’d had enough of Elizabeth in hiding. Elizabeth in danger.
“Come on, honey, let’s get you out of here.”
Cray guided her up the stairs, and after a careful check, out the front door and down the block. Once they rounded the corner, he stomped the broken drying rack into a small misshapen mass. He looked around. The neighborhood was quiet and deserted at this time of the day. Good. He spotted a line of garbage cans tucked along the driveway of a house. That would do.
He kept Elizabeth tucked against him as he headed for the cans. He had to let her go to open them, which was harder than he expected.
He used his shirt to pull off the tops—just in case—and when he found one with garbage in it, tucked the compressed rack underneath. He made sure it was covered by the bag of garbage. He highly doubted the homeowner would notice it. If the police found it in there, they were a lot better trackers than he thought. But he didn’t want it in the truck. Enforcers learned to be wary of forensic evidence.
Elizabeth gave him a look when he turned to gather her back to his side, but didn’t say anything.
“Changed my mind,” he said, and left it at that.
They turned the corner again, and Cray wasn’t surprised to hear Mari crank the engine the moment she spotted them. He hid a smile as he opened the back door and helped Elizabeth inside. He didn’t envy Lucas learning to unravel the complicated tangle that was Mari. But it was nice to see her beginning to take back her power.
“Where is Gage?”
“He’ll be here in a second,” Cray answered. “Elizabeth, we are going to call this in to the police. Do you know who this big boss is?”
She bit her lip. “Um. No. Not exactly. I think he’s someone connected to my old boss. At least— I don’t think it’s my boss.” She gave him an uncertain look.
“And why are they looking for you?” His fist clenched at his side. His other arm was around Elizabeth, so he had to be careful with that one.
“Well… that’s a little easier to answer.” She paused.
“Answer,” he growled.
“Okay. Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “I, well… I came across a little money-laundering scheme, it seems, although I didn’t realize that’s what it was at the time. But, I insisted on pointing it out to my boss, and when I finally got the bookkeeper to go along with me, he sent me back to his office for a file.” She drew in a deep breath. “By the time I got back— my boss was killing him with a letter opener,” she finished in a rush.
There was a harsh intake of breath from the front seat. “Oh-my-God! Elizabeth!”
“I know! Right? Who does that?”
Cray worked at unclenching his fist before it cramped. He spotted Gage trotting down the sidewalk toward the SUV.
“So… anyway,” Elizabeth continued, “I figured I should probably just disappear for a while.”
The passenger door opened and Gage slid inside.
“And that’s the whole story,” Elizabeth finished.
“What did I miss?” Gage asked.
“You got everything cleaned up?
“I did.”
“Good, because we’re calling the police. Mari, drive. Gage, you have a burner phone in this thing?” The pack usually tried to keep that kind of thing in their vehicles—and back at the pack house—in case they were needed.
Gage opened the glove compartment and pulled out a phone. “You are in luck. My brother strikes again.”
Cray accepted the phone and flipped it open, calling Information for the number of the local police department. Once he got through, he was succinct and to the point.
“You have a couple of kidnappers tied up at 324 Alder Street. The kidnap victim has been rescued, but we have information that the “big boss” is due to arrive at any moment. You might want to get some officers over there on the quiet. If you apprehend this big boss, I have a potential eyewitness to a murder who may be willing to testify. Who should I call back to discuss this with?”
“Sir, I’m going to need you to come down to the station and give a statement.”
“I need you to give me a name.”
“Sir, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Never mind. 324 Alder Street. Try not to fuck this up.” He disconnected.
About ten minutes later, when they had reached the downtown area again, Cray spotted a trash can. “Pull over for a second, Mari, right there at the corner.” She pulled to a stop, and Cray wiped the phone thoroughly with his shirt before tossing it in.
He leaned back against the seat and pulled Elizabeth as close as the seatbelt would allow. She was in the middle seat, right next to him, and her warmth all along his side and shoulder was finally convincing his body to relax. But it was going to be a long time before he let her out of his sight.
Chapter 27
“We are going to the police. Did you never hear of accessory after the fact?”
“No. I certainly didn’t. Anyway, that’s another reason I should stay right here. Let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak.”
Cray’s mouth tightened but he didn’t say anything. Just continued dragging her across the yard to the garage. Elizabeth glanced down at his hand clamped around her wrist. Her right wrist. Her left arm was still incredibly sore, and she had a bruise from the inside of her elbow practically to her armpit that would rival any abstract expressionist at their best, but at least it wasn’t broken. And the three-quarter sleeves of her wedding dress would cover it.
Cray hadn’t let her out of his sight, except to go to the bathroom, since he’d rescued her yesterday afternoon. Now he’d made an appointment to see the detective in charge of the kidnapping. No amount of arguments or excuses had had any effect.
“And just how did you hear about it, smarty-pants. Been studying law on the side?” Okay, so needling him probably wasn’t really fair under the circumstances, but it did take her mind off the coming ordeal. A little.
“I have to understand legal implications to do my job, miss smarty-pants.” He smacked her on the ass. Not gently.
“Ow.” She rubbed at the sting and glared at him. He glared back.
“You should have told me about
this a long time ago. So we could have taken care of it—” his tone was flat and even—“a long time ago.”
Not this again. Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “I didn’t want you involved.”
“I’m involved.” That was more of a growl.
“That guy is a maniac.” Elizabeth stressed again. She heard the back door open and glanced back to see Mari emerge. Excellent. Cray was literally dragging her across the yard. Mari always seemed to catch them in these situations.
“Stop manhandling me,” she hissed. “Mari is watching.” Elizabeth gave her a carefree wave with her free hand. Mari just shook her head.
“Too bad.” Now his teeth were gritted. “March.”
They reached the garage, and Cray released her to open the passenger door of his bright red Mazda CX-5. Of course the man drove a Mazda. Stupid-shaggy-stubborn-speed-demon.
“Get in.”
She crossed her arms over her chest but dropped them immediately. That actually hurt. A lot. Cray’s eyes slid instantly to her injured arm. If anything, his mouth looked even tighter.
He heaved out a sigh. “Elizabeth. We have to take care of this the legal way. I can’t just go around killing humans. It’s against the Law.”
“Fine.” Elizabeth knew she said it with ill grace, but truthfully, she was glad. Cray might be a werewolf. Or whatever. But at least he wasn’t some kind of homicidal maniac. Like her boss. “Let’s get this over with. I’m getting married in three days.”
Cray gave her a small, fond smile and slid his thumb along her lower lip. “Me too.”
Her heart melted. His eyes were so soft she had to fight back tears. She slid into the passenger seat. Cray was right. She could do this. She had to do this.
Four hours later, Elizabeth stared straight ahead as Cray drove back to the pack house. He hadn’t answered a single question. Elizabeth felt wrung out and left to dry, and he’d just sat there the whole time, looking hard-faced and immovable.
There had been a brief contest of wills when Detective Anderson had introduced himself. A tall, well-built man in his early forties, she would guess, with sandy brown hair and an air of confidence. He was obviously used to getting his way.
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