Filthy Vandal

by Liza Street

  “Grease, maybe?” If she was going to be finicky about dirt, she was going to have a hard time adjusting to the Junkyard. He went on. “Maybe oil? The rag was probably used to clean up after playing with cars; Luca leaves those rags everywhere.”

  She shook her head, and her ponytail swung angrily behind her. “No. There was something else in that rag. Something that made me hallucinate.”

  Oh, shit. He thought he knew where this was going. “We…we don’t have any drugs here. Other than weed, I mean. Some alcohol, and that shit is strong, but it won’t make you hallucinate. I can guess what you saw, babe, and it wasn’t a hallucination.”

  “I’m not your babe, and it was a hallucination.”

  He held up his hands. “Okay.”

  No sense in trying to convince her about shifters now. She’d find out soon enough.

  4

  When the man, Grant, continued through the trees, Caitlyn followed him. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, did she? She could bolt—she was a fast runner—but then she’d be lost in the forest in the dark. She would just as likely run to freedom as run straight back into Mathers’s trailer. Or fall into Cougar Lake.

  They approached a different trailer. Her night vision wasn’t great, but the moon was bright enough to see by. It was a tiny camp trailer and looked barely big enough for one person. Someone had painted the outside of it with swirling animal shapes. They weren’t idealized visions of wildlife, either, but swirling and beautiful and awful all at once. A part of her wanted to stop and stare at the artwork, but her survival instinct kicked in, thankfully. She needed to get far away from this place, as quickly as possible.

  “Look,” she said, “if you can just let me borrow your phone, I’ll find someone to give me a ride out of here.”

  The guy frowned. “I know you have no reason to trust me. None at all. In your place, I wouldn’t trust me, either. But I have no phone, and nobody can get you out of here tonight.”

  “Are you for real?”

  He didn’t sound like he was lying, but seriously, who didn’t have a phone?

  “I’m for real,” he said. “Can you try something, just really quickly, for me?”

  “It depends on what,” she said.

  “Can you try to put your hand over here?” He pointed to a tree.

  She reached for it, but her hand met resistance. The resistance was smooth, not the bark of a tree, more like a smooth wall. “I’m still hallucinating,” she murmured, pulling her hand back quickly.

  “I wish,” he said, just as quietly.

  She swayed on her feet. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, hadn’t had a drop of water to drink, and she was tired through to her bones.

  “Okay,” he said. “You look exhausted. You can sleep inside. I’ll stay outside and guard the door. They’re not going to be happy I walked off with you, and it’s better this way.”

  Looking at the rundown trailer, she was half-tempted to volunteer to sleep outside, too. She expected the place would smell sour and rank like the other trailer. But there was a bite to the June evening. It wouldn’t hurt to look inside and see if there were blankets, at the very least.

  “So, we’ll be safe?” she asked.

  “Lady, I haven’t been safe since I got here four months ago.” He gave a bark of sarcastic laughter, then sobered up and said, “But you’ll be safe enough. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Nodding, she went up to the trailer door. She was too tired to ask questions, too tired to understand what was happening. She wasn’t too tired to notice that Grant was super hot. Even in the dim light, she could see his strong jaw line and soulful eyes. His eyebrows were crooked like he was angry, but the self-effacing grin on his face softened the expression.

  She had to tamp down her feelings, because this wasn’t the time and it sure as hell wasn’t the place to be ogling some random dude who had supposedly “won” her by walking off with her to another trailer in the woods.

  Tomorrow. She would ask questions tomorrow.

  A round of wood served as a step to the door of the trailer. The door itself was unlocked, so she pulled it open and stuck her head inside. Instead of reeking of rancid lemons like that other trailer, it smelled very faintly of cleaner. The floor reflected moonlight. There wasn’t much space, but a tiny counter lined the wall, pointing the way to a bed that was neatly made with a plaid quilt. She turned around and looked at Grant in surprise. “It’s nice in here.”

  He shrugged. “I like to keep a clean place. There’s a bathroom at the side, there. And the taps work, if you’re thirsty. Food in the cupboards is all yours if you want it.”

  “Thanks.” His kindness made her feel weak in the knees. Wow, she’d had a day if this was how she reacted to someone offering her food and a place to sleep. She blinked back tears and her throat ached with emotion. She had had a day. She’d been freaking kidnapped and—and—

  “Hey, now,” he said, stepping up next to her. “It’s going to be all right.”

  She was crying. Dammit.

  “Do you want a hug?” he asked. “It’s killing me not to hug you when you’re sad, but I don’t want to freak you out…”

  She launched herself at him and felt his warm, kind arms surround her. It was like being embraced by a sunlit boulder. Hot. Hard. Safe. The comforting sound of his heartbeat thumped beneath her ear. It sounded a little faster than a resting heart rate. Her heart was beating faster, too. But they’d just hurried through the woods. That’s all. It wasn’t that their hearts were in any way excited to be so close.

  Her tears stopped while she thought about those things, and she realized the hug had gone on far too long.

  “Thanks,” she said, pulling back.

  He dropped his arms. “You’re welcome. I needed it, too. Glad we could get you away from Mathers. Get some rest, okay? There are clean clothes in there, wear whatever you want.”

  She gave him a brief smile before stepping the rest of the way into the trailer and closing the door behind her. Hot or not, he wasn’t sleeping with her tonight. He’d offered to stay outside, and she’d let him.

  But after finding a long-sleeved shirt of his to put on, then drinking a glass of water and climbing into a bed that smelled of clean fabric and hazelnut, she wondered how it would feel to fall asleep with those muscled arms around her.

  The snarls and growls of fighting animals filled her dreams, but when she fully awoke in the light of morning, all was quiet outside save for the birds’ morning chorus.

  She stretched and her arm hit the edge of the trailer. The noise shocked her out of her sleepy stupor. Where the hell was she?

  “What the hell just happened?” she wondered aloud. She’d been kidnapped and she’d trusted some random dude to let her sleep in his camp trailer instead of demanding he return her to civilization so she could file a police report and several restraining orders.

  The morning air bit into her skin, but her anger kept her warm enough so she ignored the jacket dangling from a wall hook and stormed outside. Grant’s long-sleeved shirt would have to be enough.

  Grant sat on a picnic chair that looked like it could barely hold his weight. He leaned against the side of the trailer and turned to look at her when she came out. “Morning,” he croaked.

  “I need answers, and I need them right the fuck now,” she said.

  “Fine,” he said, looking more awake.

  She took in the sight of him. His shirt was torn at the sleeve, and a scratch ran across his shoulder, deep and angry-looking.

  “We’ll start with what happened to you,” she said in a softer voice. Her anger was fading at the sight of his injury.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “It’ll heal soon.”

  She doubted it, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, she had other questions. “Look, I need the truth. No half-truths, no evasion. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

  He stared back at her with eyes that were the color of pine trees. She hadn’t been able to see thei
r color at night, and now she was struck with just how beautiful they were.

  “I’m going to tell you the truth,” he said slowly, “but you aren’t gonna believe it.”

  “Stranger than fiction?” she asked.

  He gave a short laugh. “Something like that. Do you believe in the supernatural?”

  “Nope. Science girl through and through.” Although she’d seen some odd things in the course of her short nursing career. Patients who swore they saw ghosts in the hospital’s hallways or rooms. Others who talked about mystical beings. Vampires. Werewolves. She’d met more than one practicing Wiccan. But there were other patients who were convinced they were Elvis, or spouted conspiracy theories about everything from flower pollen to soup cans.

  “Well, everything happening right now is rooted in the supernatural,” Grant said.

  “Right,” she said slowly. “Go ahead, spit it out.”

  “Fine. You’re in a magical holding pen for misbehaving shapeshifters, and none of us can get out.”

  What? Who the hell did this guy think he was? Who did he think she was? She knew who she was, and her personality traits didn’t include “gullible.”

  “Fuck you,” she said, voice shaking.

  It was light now, and she could find her own way back to the trail. She didn’t need this beautiful dickhead’s help.

  Aiming west, opposite the rising sun, she began to run.

  5

  Fuck.

  “Wait,” Grant called.

  He didn’t even know her name.

  Fighting with the guys last night had been brutal. His side ached from a solid hit Mathers had dealt him. Grant had come out on top, but just barely.

  Aches and pains or not, he took off after the woman.

  She was fast, but he had his shifter speed on his side, so he caught up with her about three yards from the gravel that delineated the boundary of the Junkyard. She spun to face him.

  “Look, I get that you’re pissed, you don’t believe me,” he said. Then he pointed at the wall. “But you do not want to run smack into the barrier.”

  She looked at him like he was crazy. Fair enough.

  “Here, watch.” He strode to the gravel line, pulled back his hand, and slapped the wall. His palm took the impact. It smarted. He rubbed his hand all over the invisible wall, following it. High above his head, it curved slightly inward, like it was domed. “See?”

  “I see an amateur mime,” she said. “Cool trick.”

  He could only imagine how he looked to her. He bit back a laugh.

  She started forward, shaking her head.

  “Wait,” he said. “Just…stick out your hand before you walk into it.”

  Muttering several swear words under her breath, she put out her arm and walked forward.

  Her hand hit the invisible wall. “What—”

  She pushed out with her hand again, and again met resistance. She turned to Grant, her expression perplexed and pissed.

  He wasn’t a portrait painter, but he’d love to capture the flash in her chocolate-brown eyes. Human or not, this woman was a force to be reckoned with.

  “We can’t get out,” he said.

  “What—is—this—bullshit?” she said, pounding against the barrier with her fist.

  “You’re gonna bruise your hand.”

  “I need to get out of here!”

  “Lady, we all want to get out of here. But we can’t. I’m going to talk to a guy, see if he can find a witch. Maybe she’ll know how to let you out without letting the others go.” He’d hope the witch would make an allowance for an unwitting human. And while that allowance was being made, perhaps the witch would let Grant leave, too. Couldn’t hurt to ask.

  The woman walked along the gravel line, hand out and following the invisible wall. She stopped every few steps and stood on tiptoes to touch the wall high up, then squatted to run her hands along the bottom of it.

  “We’ve all done that,” Grant said. “Every single shifter here has walked the boundary of the Junkyard.”

  Except maybe Carter. That asshole seemed to like it in here.

  She ignored him and kept feeling along the wall.

  “If you keep going,” he said, “it’ll take you straight to the scrap yard and Mathers’s trailer.”

  That got her to stop. Her eyebrows pulled together as she scowled. “How high up does it go?”

  “It curves in. We think it’s like a dome, but we don’t know how high the top is. I can climb trees in the center of the territory without ever reaching a barrier, so we think it goes pretty high. Not that it matters. The point is, we can’t climb over it.”

  “You’re saying I’m stuck here.”

  “We all are. It’s impossible to get out.”

  She nodded, obviously thinking it over. “How long?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “No, how long have you been here?”

  “Me? Four months. Mathers and Carter, the same. Stetson’s the newest, he came in March. Ephraimson—Noah—he’s been here longest. Couple of years.” Grant had shoved every single one of these guys, except for Stetson, in here himself. Nobody had taken over Grant’s post after Mathers had tugged him over the boundary. Alphas had to make their own men do the dirty work.

  When the woman didn’t say anything, Grant said, “What’s your name?”

  “Caitlyn Dorsey.”

  “Caitlyn.” He liked how it sounded. “I’m going to try to keep you as comfortable as possible, okay?”

  “That’s what hospitals say to terminal patients.”

  “It’s not like that,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe, away from the other guys. And I’m going to try to find a way for you to get out of here.”

  “You just told me it’s impossible.” She walked past him, back toward his trailer, shoulders down, head down, defeated.

  She sat outside the trailer in the spot where he’d spent the night. Her gaze never left the cabin straight ahead that sat on the other side of the wall.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Taking her at her word, he went inside and fixed a breakfast of English muffins and peanut butter. He sliced an apple and divided it up, arranging the crescents along the edges of the plates. The fresh food was running low—they were due for a new shipment of food and other necessities. It was Hutchins’s turn to send it, so Grant knew it would be a good shipment. Some alphas were assholes and sent the bare minimum to the Junkyard. Nonperishables, primarily. Nothing good. Guys like Hutchins, though, or Gabe Fournier, would put in fresh fruit and vegetables. Even better, Hutchins’s son, Phillip, would probably do the delivery, and Grant would be able to ask him to call a witch.

  He came back out of the trailer and handed a plate to Caitlyn. She nodded her thanks.

  She’d said she didn’t want to talk, so he sat on the ground next to her lawn chair and they both looked at his old cabin. Wildflowers grew in front of it, where he’d spread seed a year ago. The place, despite starting to look rundown, was picturesque. He thought of all his paints in the garage, his canvases and brushes. Phillip had brought him a sketchbook and charcoals last time he was here, but it wasn’t the same.

  Grant didn’t know what Caitlyn was thinking, exactly, but he had a pretty good idea how she felt right now.

  And they still hadn’t one hundred percent discussed the concept of shapeshifters.

  From the dull look in Caitlyn’s eyes, this wasn’t a good time.

  He ate all of the food on his plate, but Caitlyn didn’t touch hers.

  “Are you going to eat?” he asked her.

  She shook her head and tried to hand him her plate.

  “Nah, keep it,” he said. “You might get hungry in a little while.”

  They sat together in silence for what felt like forever. Grant wanted to learn about her, more than just her name. But she just stared ahead at the cabin.

  After some time, his ass was completely numb. He stood up, wincing. Caitlyn st
ood up, too. She marched to the gravel line and pushed outward with both hands until they couldn’t go any farther forward. Then she sank to her knees and leaned her forehead against the wall.

  “Come here,” Grant said, reaching for her elbow.

  She shook him off. “Just leave me alone.”

  He couldn’t leave her unprotected. Last night’s battle had ensured he was the victor and alpha of the territory for at least a little while longer, but he had no doubt that if he left her alone entirely, someone else would come along and take her away. Still, she wanted solitude. He’d take a short walk around his trailer and do what he could for her.

  As he walked away, the sound of other footsteps reached his ears and he went on immediate alert. Sniffing the air, he caught the scent of grizzly and rosewood. Carter.

  A moment later, Carter stepped out of the shadows. He jerked his chin toward Caitlyn, who was still kneeling at the boundary and looking at the trees and cabin on the other side. “What’s up with her?”

  “What do you think, asshole? She just found out she can’t escape.”

  “It’s not so bad in here,” Carter said.

  Grant shook his head. Of course Carter wouldn’t understand. “Dude, she won’t eat.”

  “’Course she won’t. Did you have an appetite when Mathers dragged you in? Did any of us?”

  Maybe Carter understood more than Grant had thought. “I guess not.”

  “But she’ll get used to it,” Carter went on. “It’s pretty here. Let her get to know you, and maybe she’ll fall in love with you and you can make a perfect little family.”

  “In the fuckin’ Junkyard?” Grant said, horrified. His chest hurt at the thought of everything he’d lost when Mathers had dragged him in. Grant didn’t have a mate and he hadn’t had designs on anyone, but he’d known someday he might want a family. He’d put those notions to rest soon after finding out none of the alphas would try to free him.

  Grant wasn’t worth freeing, but Caitlyn was.

  Carter was smirking at him. Smug bastard.

  “You always have to stir shit up, don’t you?” Grant asked.