The initial steps he’d have to take were easily determined. First he’d send Lucy off on some complicated errand to ensure she didn’t return too soon. Once she was out of the way, he’d wake up Melody, using whatever means necessary, so he could grill her about what she knew and who she’d told.
Tracking down her boss, Aldrich, would likely be next on his list. He’d have to cross check what Melody had told him to ensure she’d been truthful; at this point Ryne knew he couldn’t afford to trust her word completely, too much as at stake. So he’d find Aldrich but… Therein lay his stumbling block. How was he supposed to track down Aldrich while at the same time keeping Melody under observation?
The cold, logical part of him said to just drag her along, regardless of her condition, but not only did his wolf howl in protest at the idea, it wasn’t easily accomplished. Even in a neighbourhood as seedy as this, a cabbie would question someone carrying an unconscious woman about. If it wasn’t for Lucy, he could leave Melody by herself and hope that her condition didn’t worsen while he was gone, but Lucy was a factor. He couldn’t keep her occupied forever and leaving Lucy in charge of Melody was tricky. What if Melody transformed in the other woman’s presence? Or took a turn for the worse and Lucy called 911? The complications that would involve brought another knot of pain to his already throbbing head.
There seemed to be no easy answer and he didn’t have the luxury of time. Not only was Kane waiting for his call, but the longer he took figuring out this mess, the farther the information could be spreading.
Still pondering the problem, he approached Melody’s apartment, only to come to a sudden halt. All his senses went on high alert as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was wrong. The smell of fresh blood filled the air, overpowering everything else. Around him the sounds of daily life continued; the human inhabitants apparently oblivious to the danger around them, but to him the evil oozed down the hallway, as palpable as a living thing.
Cautiously, he traversed the remaining distance to Melody’s door, then cocked his head and listened. His keen hearing caught the barely perceptible sound of breathing inside. Slowly he reached out and nudged open the door while testing the air for subtle clues that existed under the scent of blood. The acridness of fear lingered as did the unmistakeable odour of another male. Possessiveness flared inside him and he fought to keep it from clouding his judgement.
Lazily, the door swung open about a foot, squeaking on the partially broken hinges that were evidence of his earlier break-in.
“Hello?” He called out the greeting in a casual tone as if unaware of any problem.
There was no response. Somehow he wasn’t surprised.
Muscles tensed and ready to respond, he pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. The door responded quickly to his shove until the presence of something unexpectedly stopped its inward motion. As it bounced back towards him, Ryne swiftly turned to see what was impeding its movement. There was nothing at eye level and his gaze immediately dropped to the ground.
There was a heartbeat of silence, then a savage growl erupted from his throat at the sight before him.
“Lucy!” He breathed her name out in shock.
The woman was lying in a crumpled heap surrounded by a pool of blood. He dropped to his knees to check for a pulse. Pressing trembling fingers to her throat, he detected the faintest hint of a throb. It was weak, but offered some hope.
Grabbing the phone, Ryne dialled 911 while visually searching the apartment for signs of Melody. When the operator came on the line, he rattled off the needed information, hanging up without answering the superfluous questions peppered at him. He had no time to talk.
Swiftly, he completed a circuit of the apartment, confirming what he already suspected; Melody was indeed gone.
“Damn! I shouldn’t have left… ” Muttering self-retributions, Ryne returned to Lucy’s side. He knelt beside her, feeling more ineffectual than he had ever felt before. He was Alpha, his job was to protect, to nurture and defend, yet despite his desperate wish to do something for his dying friend, he was helpless. As his hands hovered uselessly over her body, he noted a partial message written on the floor; Greys. What could that mean? Ryne furrowed his brow and stared unseeing across the room. Greys… The word niggled at his memory, but why? His gaze lighted on Melody’s laptop. Greys… Greyson! The name was in one of the files he’d found. Shit! Whoever had injured Lucy must have something to do with that damned report she’d written.
A change in Lucy’s breathing caught his attention; it had been shallow before but now it seemed uneven. His heart thumped heavily as he stared at her pale face and blood soaked blonde hair. With trembling fingers, he brushed her cheek, leaning forward and softly calling her name. There was no response. He swore vilely. It wasn’t right that she was hurt and possibly dying. This wasn’t her problem. She’d never done anything mean or hurtful. Lucy was warm and giving to a fault, always happy… The backs of his eyes pricked as he recalled her teasing, the way she’d sashay across the room with a tray of drinks in her hand and a smart comment on her lips. He blinked rapidly. Compressing his lips, he wished he could do something for her; that he could stay and hold her hand, but the lives of so many hung in the balance. He needed to find the truth on the off-chance that he could halt the Keeping before Kane took the final steps.
Reluctantly, he rose to his feet, moving to the sofa and sniffing where the smell of the unknown male lingered. A scent and a probable name; he tightened his mouth at the meagre clues he had to go on. In a city this size the scent would be impossible to track and the name Greyson meant nothing to him. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
The sound of approaching sirens filled the apartment and he started, realizing he had to leave quickly or risk being caught at the scene of the crime. He felt like a cold-blooded bastard leaving Lucy alone, but staying was too risky. Time was of the essence and his presence would do nothing to help her. Quickly scanning the room for any last minute evidence, he grabbed the laptop just in case there was pertinent information still stored there.
He crouched one last time beside Lucy’s body. She was still breathing, though barely. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.” He pressed a brief kiss to her cheek, and then stood up. With one final backwards glance, he slipped out of the apartment and down the back stairs.
*****
Melody’s scent and that of the unknown male were inextricably blended, so Ryne could only assume she and the man were together. Whether or not she’d gone willingly he didn’t know, but right now it was a moot point. The trail disappeared at street level, lost in the myriad of other smells that filled the city’s air. Ryne really hadn’t expected otherwise; tracking in Chicago wasn’t like running through the woods in Stump River. Working on his only other clue, he went to a phone booth and looked up Greyson Inc. Of course, the phone call got him nothing but a tape recorded message asking what extension he wanted. Taking a stab in the dark, he chose public relations.
The woman he spoke with gave him a nice overview of the company; Greyson Inc. was involved in a wide variety of industries both at home and abroad. It was public minded, hosted several charitable events and the owner was Anthony Greyson. Mr. Greyson was an extremely private person who never granted personal interviews.
As he hung up, Ryne smirked. It wasn’t much, but at least he had a full name to work with now. Narrowing his eyes, he considered his options. He could try to find out where Greyson lived or he could try to locate this Aldrich person who was supposedly Melody’s boss. How were Greyson and Aldrich connected? Ryne couldn’t imagine a man of Greyson’s public stature being personally involved in abducting Melody from her apartment; there was too much chance of scandal and Greyson didn’t seem like the type to get his hands dirty. If that was the case, was Aldrich his flunky?
Ryne stared at his surroundings trying to determine his next step. He was on a busy corner with traffic whizzing past him. Music blared out o
f open car windows, snatches of conversations barely audible as masses of humanity surged across busy streets. Some were power walking, their minds probably intent on making a deadline while others stopped at a trendy coffee house. A sudden idea had Ryne’s eyes narrowing.
At one point Melody had told him how she liked to sit in coffee houses, sipping her favourite brew and surfing the net. Giving a half smile, he decided to use that glimpse of big city life to his benefit. It was time to call in the reserves and spread the work out.
In less than half an hour, Ryne was settled anonymously in the back corner of an upscale coffee shop, exchanging information with Daniel over Melody’s laptop. The boy was only too pleased to have a reason to attempt hacking into the Greyson Inc. website. While Daniel did his part, Ryne used the address for Aldrich that he’d copied down earlier to obtain a phone number for the man’s office. A phone call there might reveal something useful.
Aldrich wasn’t in, but his paralegal was. Using his sexiest voice and some well placed flattery, he charmed the woman into sharing several interesting pieces of information. Apparently, Aldrich had been scheduled to meet with Melody and had unexpectedly left shortly afterwards. Since then, the lawyer had called in to cancel the rest of the day’s appointments. Hmm… A bit too coincidental, Ryne decided.
The computer chimed; Daniel had information for him. He bent over the laptop and they began to compare notes, piecing together a plausible theory. Aldrich was Greyson’s lawyer, his name appearing in several court documents as a legal representative. His duties also appeared to include carrying out a variety of odd jobs for the wealthy man. Greyson was reported to be an art connoisseur, with a special interest in wolves. Connecting the dots, they concluded Greyson had Ryne’s photo, and knew—or at least strongly suspected—that it wasn’t an ordinary wolf. Melody had been hired through Aldrich to do the leg work. But did Melody know why? Right now, Ryne didn’t really care. Finding her was more important; she was the key to plugging the information leak.
*****
Aldrich slowly drove to the back of the Greyson estate, keeping a watchful eye out that none of the employees were wandering the grounds or peeking out windows. No one should be about. When Greyson was absent—or incommunicado as he liked to call it—most of the employees were given an extended holiday. Still, Aldrich believed in caution and so he made his way along the twisting driveway at a leisurely speed more suited to checking the general condition of the estate, which was the story he was using if anyone dared question his presence. The unconscious woman on the floor in the back was covered with a light blanket, so prying eyes would have no clear idea as to what he was transporting.
The far back corner of the expansive grounds contained a seldom used shed that had once housed garden tools. Several years back, Aldrich had suggested a newer building be constructed in a more convenient location. The gardener hadn’t protested abandoning the ramshackle hut in the least. A new home for his gardening tools, re-landscaping being done; the fellow was ecstatic.
No one noticed or seemed to care that the old abandoned shed was repaired rather than being torn down. Doors and windows were reinforced and the walls were strengthened from the inside to form an impenetrable structure. While vines and long grass grew around the building, almost hiding it from sight, the interior was fitted with a small generator and wireless communications, all cleverly concealed by old potting tables, benches, and tool hooks. The rough wooden floor hid a trap door leading to a secondary underground safe room. It even had an escape route that led through the sewers before emerging in a drainage ditch near the edge of the nearby woods. As Aldrich had explained to Greyson, one should always be prepared for the unexpected and a conveniently located hideaway might be useful at some point.
Greyson had liked the idea immensely. In fact, it was this little hideaway that had secured Aldrich’s present spot as one of Greyson’s closest confidants. As far as Aldrich knew, only he and Mr. Greyson knew of the shed’s secret purpose, which was why it was perfect for his present purpose.
Ms. Greene had to be kept somewhere. Aldrich wasn’t stupid enough to take her back to his office or even to his own home. There was too great a chance of someone seeing her, and he wanted no link between the two of them. Snatching the woman had been impulsive on his part, but the presence of her feisty friend had thrown him off. Why hadn’t the woman cowered and cried in the corner? If she hadn’t swung at him when he wasn’t expecting it, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
He’d come to Greene’s apartment with the express purpose of using intimidation to gain access to the Taylor report. When the other woman had attacked him, he’d reacted instinctively, old habits from his youth springing forward. Few knew that Leon Aldrich had grown up on the ‘wrong’ side of the tracks. His average size frame, bland appearance, even the way he conducted himself, led others to believe he was merely an intellectual—no one realized he knew how to handle a street fight. Yes, he’d been tough in his younger years but he was also smart; smart enough to know he’d end up dead if he didn’t get out of the hell-hole he grew up in. So he’d studied, got a scholarship and a degree, then carefully buried that past with a name change and a few forged documents. His present persona was staid, pompous and gave no indication of ever having known what it was like to claw one’s way up out of the gutter. Aldrich liked the image and intended to keep it.
Unfortunately, he now had to do some quick work to ensure no stain of wrongdoing touched him. The frying pan wielding woman wasn’t going to make it—Aldrich knew that much blood wasn’t a good sign—and so he’d been forced to scoop up the Greene woman, rather than brow-beating her where she lay. Leaving the scene of the crime before anyone noticed his presence had taken precedence.
So here he was, thankful Greyson was away and that he had a nice safe place to stow this uncooperative person. He was sure he’d be able to get the report from her and have it ready for Greyson’s return. She didn’t look like the kind to hold out against persuasion for an extended period of time. Once the report was in his hands, well… Ms. Greene would likely be ‘leaving town’ just as the former lawyer had. It was regrettable, but in the grand scheme of things, the woman was expendable.
Parking the car, Aldrich double checked that there was no one about before quickly lifting the unconscious woman from the back seat and carrying her into the shed-turned-safe-room. She murmured as he moved her, lashes fluttering and muscles twitching. Good, she was waking up. He could begin to question her about the report and its contents.
Not for the first time, did Aldrich wonder why the old man was so interested in wolves. It went beyond a mere hobby, more like an obsession and lately he’d latched onto Taylor and the wolf picture he’d taken. Aldrich had spent more than a little time trying to determine his employer’s motivation. As yet, he’d been unsuccessful. Perhaps, something in Ms. Greene’s report would provide some illumination. He didn’t like not knowing what drove the people around him.
He set the woman on one of the low slung benches. There was no need to use the hidden room below. Once he had the outer door shut, he proceeded to gently slap her cheek.
“Come now, Ms. Greene. Enough of this. You need to wake up and hand over the information on Mr. Taylor.”
“Hmm?” Her eyes partially opened and she stared at him blearily before closing them again. “G’way… tired.”
“No, Ms. Greene, I will not go away. Not until you cooperate.” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her into a sitting position. Obviously realizing he wasn’t going away, she opened her eyes completely and frowned at him.
“Mr. Aldrich? What’s going on? Where am I?” Mel rubbed her eyes and looked around the room.
Satisfied that she’d stay upright, Aldrich let go of her shoulders and stepped back, assuming his usual pose of powerful arrogance.
“Where you are is of no concern. Why you are here should be obvious. You didn’t think you could defy Anthony Greyson and not suffer the consequences did you?”
&nb
sp; “Consequences?”
“Yes. Consequences. It was decided that you represented too great a flight risk and measures needed to be taken to prevent any such action.”
“A flight risk? I’m not some criminal out on bail, you know.”
Aldrich kept his face bland while inwardly rolling his eyes. Even ill, the woman was feisty. Why couldn’t things ever be easy? His weekend away was being wasted arguing with a chit of a girl. “Yes. A flight risk. Your background shows that in the past you’ve frequently moved about the country. We can’t have you leaving without fulfilling your obligations to Mr. Greyson first.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving. My friend is with me. We’re spending the week sightseeing and shopping.” She rubbed her head and furrowed her brow. “My friend, Lucy, she’ll be wondering where I am. I was supposed to be meeting her back at my apartment for lunch, but I don’t remember much after leaving your office.”
“I have no idea where your friend might be. She is not my concern; the report is. Now—”
Mel interrupted. “Wait! I did leave your office. I remember walking into the apartment building and someone called my name… It was Ryne; he’s here in Chicago!” She looked around as if expecting to see him lurking in the corner.
“Taylor is in town? Now that’s interesting news.” Aldrich pulled at his lower lip, puzzling over this latest bit of information. Maybe he could use it to his advantage. Mr. Greyson wanted information on Taylor, but would he be even more pleased to have the man himself? He’d have to consider that point.
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