by Claire Marta
Fishing her car charger from the glove box, she plugged one end into the dash and the other into her phone. The trickle charge was slow as hell but it was better than nothing.
The drive back from Helena’s house in Hyde Park to the apartment went smoothly despite the holiday traffic. The closer to the city, the worse the congestion became.
Parking in her spot and armed with her bags of leftovers, she headed inside, glad that she had something to be grateful for today. At least she hadn’t spent Thanksgiving at the bottom of a bottle, red-eyed from crying, eating takeout leftovers, feeling the empty hole in her life, and trying to console herself with mindless TV.
Her future seemed as empty as the sidewalk across the street. Looking to where two men normally stood watch, Casey glowered at the empty expanse of concrete. Morgan and her stalkers were gone. At least her roommate had people who seemed concerned about her well-being. Casey resented their presence but had to admit, she did enjoy seeing them freeze their assets off outside their window. It made her wonder what Malik and Iosefa were up to now. The mystery of them at the fight last night remained unanswered.
Silence greeted her when she entered the building. Most of the tenants were college grad students. Nearly everyone was gone.
Letting herself into the apartment, she locked the door behind her, cast a quick, assessing glance around, and headed for the kitchen, in a rush to get today’s leftovers in the fridge. She made space on the shelves and put everything neatly away before checking the rest of the place.
In the living room, a red light was blinking on the landline phone. A message. Casey hummed in her throat. Probably Morgan calling to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving and check up on her.
Jabbing the button, she expected to hear her best friend’s voice.
Instead, she heard Morgan’s brother.
“Hey, sis. It’s Christopher. Got your text. We’re sorry you couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving. Hope you're feeling better and the flu passes quickly. Give us a call when you're up to it. Mom is worried and we want to hear your voice to make sure you haven’t mutated into a flesh-eating zombie. Just kidding. She says to drink plenty of fluids and stay in bed. We love you. Talk soon.”
Casey froze. Had Morgan been home all night? There had been no noise from her bedroom. No sign that she was even in the apartment.
A swirl of guilt sent her padding to her friend’s door and rapping on it lightly. “Hey, Morgan. How are you feeling? Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were still here.”
When no answer came, concern had her pushing the door open. Casey was greeted by the sight of a neatly made bed and two suitcases sitting by the door. There was no sign of her roommate. No trace that she was here.
What. The. Fuck..?
Rushing back to the kitchen, she checked her phone for messages. There was nothing from Morgan. Nothing since yesterday lunchtime. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling Casey first. She’d made sure Morgan was safety conscious. Aware of danger. So why the hell hadn’t she contacted her? Why were her bags still here and why did her brother think she had the flu?
Unless she’d gotten sick when she was at the Citadel.
Firing off some texts to Morgan demanding to know where she was, Casey paced the corridor, her mind racing, her stomach clenched with dread. Minutes passed with no reply. Speed-dialing the number, she found that her roommate’s phone had been switched off. As a last resort, she checked the tracker she’d slipped into Morgan’s purse. Nothing. It was dead.
Where the fuck was she now? Was she really sick or had Zac and Aiden slipped her a Mickey? God damn it. She knew there was something dodgy about them. Heaven knew what they were really up to behind those walls.
Loading every extra clip for her Glock, she grabbed her shoulder bag and tore out of the apartment, a woman on a mission. Morgan was in trouble and she’d shoot every last one of them if they’d hurt her. Including Malik and Iosefa.
Jumping into her car, Casey peeled out of the parking lot and headed for the Citadel. Muttering under her breath the whole drive, she parked on the street outside the old imposing military academy.
“Open the goddamn door!” she hollered through the gates.
Malik and Iosefa came jogging down the drive, their features etched with concern.
“Casey?” Malik asked.
“Let me in,” she grated, giving him a death-stare. “And don’t give me any lip about my hair.”
Cocking his head in confusion, he opened the metal gate, allowing her to slip inside. While he locked up, she wasted no time storming toward the main building.
“What is the matter?” Iosefa asked.
When he tried to reach for her, Casey shoved the Samoan away. “Where is she? Where the fuck are you holding her? Are you planning to sell her to that biker club? Is that why they were at the fight? A little fun before getting cash for my friend as a sex slave? I swear, if any of you have touched her, I’ll shoot off your goddamn balls.”
Going around them, Malik swung open the front door. The warm air that greeted her was tainted with the smell of smoke, probably coming from the kitchen.
“Why are you so angry?” Malik’s voice was laced with worry. “What’s happened?”
Casey rolled her eyes. “Christ, didn’t you listen to what I was saying?”
She darted inside. Malik and Iosefa followed, catching her before she had a chance to charge upstairs.
She twisted free and stepped out of reach.
Footsteps sounded in the hall as the others rushed to investigate.
“Take me to Morgan,” she demanded. “I know she’s here.”
When Malik and Iosefa failed to comply, she pulled her gun on them. They’d take her to Morgan or wish the hell that they had.
Before she could blink, the Egyptian had disarmed her. Casey snarled with mounting anger and hauled back her fist. Her punch failed to connect thanks to Iosefa, who caught her in his arms and locked her in the iron band of his hold.
“Waving this around is dangerous,” Malik scolded, weighing her Glock in his hand. “Perhaps I should look after it for you.”
Struggling, she only became more desperate.
“Easy,” Iosefa crooned in her ear. “Easy now. You need to calm down, Casey.”
“Let go of me, you son of a bitch! Swear to God, if Morgan’s here against her will, I’ll—”
“Iosefa!” Aiden yelled, sprinting from the back of the building, wearing a look of shock. His partner Zac was hot on his heels. “Let her go! What’s this about Morgan? What in heaven’s name is going on?”
By this time, there must have been twenty men in the corridor, most of them strangers to her.
Yanking free of Iosefa, she glared at Malik until he gave her the Glock and turned her anger on Zac and Aiden next. “Where the fuck is Morgan?” she demanded. “What have you bastards done with her?”
Their matching stunned expressions made Casey’s gut clench painfully. They had no idea what she was talking about.
“I don’t understand,” Zac said, confusion lacing his voice. “The last time we saw her, she was headed for home, then the airport. We’re still waiting on a response from the texts that we’ve sent. She has not answered any of them.”
“Yeah, well, she hasn’t answered any of mine either. I tried calling but her phone is switched off. Her brother left a voicemail this afternoon and asked how she was feeling. He said that she’d texted him, telling him that she had the flu and was canceling her trip. But she’s not at the apartment. As soon as I listened to it, I checked her room. Her bags are still packed, waiting by the door, and she’s not there. So, where the fuck is she?”
Zac’s face paled with worry. “I’ll have Zana check the security camera footage to make certain she got on the bus. If she did, we’ll need footage from your apartment’s security cameras. Is that something you can access?”
“Hey! One thing at a time, buster,” Casey snapped, holstering her weapon. “I need to stay le
gal on this where I can. First things first. Take me to Zana. I’ll need to see what the footage shows and proceed from there.”
The security camera showed Morgan getting on the bus. Casey was glad to see that much anyway. No one had snatched her friend off the street.
Zana let the footage run, backing it up while they talked. Casey eyed it speculatively, mentally listing her options. Missing person’s reports officially couldn’t be filed for twenty-four hours, but she had connections in the police department. “I’m filing a missing person’s report,” she told them, “and I’m calling the apartment supervisor. I’m sure he’ll let me view the security footage rather than have the police knocking on his door.”
“Hold up, guys,” Zana interrupted. “You need to see this.”
He paused the time-stamped recording and hit play. The camera in the rear of the building showed a group of boys breaking in the back. Holy fuck. They’d started a fire and fled the scene. That smoke she smelled wasn’t from the kitchen. It was arson.
“What the fuck?” Casey stared at the computer screen in confusion, watching their valiant efforts to extinguish the fire. Judging from the building’s current state and air quality, they’d spent hours working to restore it.
Whoever had Morgan, it wasn’t these men.
“That’s why we were waiting to call again,” Aiden explained. “We’ve been busy with cleanup and repairs.”
“Christ on a cracker.” Casey pulled her hair in frustration. “The tracker I put in Morgan’s purse isn’t working. If she’s not here, I don’t know where the fuck to start looking.”
“The apartment camera footage.” Iosefa watched her, his dark eyes full of empathy. “Something happened after she got off the bus and before she reached your apartment.”
“Thanks to you,” she snarled, annoyed at the small, hopeful smile he directed her way. “You guys have been tailing us 24/7 and the first time you take a night off to play, something happens. What the fuck, man?”
Iosefa looked taken aback. “You told us last time we spoke that you would shoot our nuts off if we didn’t stop stalking you. We believed Morgan was safe…”
Stepping closer to him, Casey jabbed a finger into the hard planes of his chest. “Well, you suck at your job. I’m surprised we saw you outside the apartment at all with the amount of coffee you drink. And don’t think I haven’t seen a few of the waitresses from the shop down the street bringing you refills.”
It was a low blow but true. As many times as she’d stood by the window watching him and Malik, she could be deemed a stalker.
Malik grinned. “You noticed us.”
Casey rolled her eyes. She’d have to be blind not to notice them watching the apartment. The hurt she felt at not seeing them anymore was something she’d never admit. “Look, I’d love to chat, but I fucking need to find Morgan. I’m not about to call her brother back and try to explain this to him.”
She turned to leave. Aiden strode after her. “Not without us. Tell Tobias we’re with Casey. We’ll be back as soon as we’ve found Morgan, not before.”
Zac and Aiden asked to ride with her. Casey didn’t like it, but she let them. Thankfully, they shut the fuck up and stayed quiet for the drive, letting her think, planning her next steps if the apartment surveillance film didn’t pan out.
She called the super’s office en route to make certain he would be there. The words “police business” worked like magic, opening doors that would be closed to most people. The super blinked at her red hair, but the look in her eyes made him think twice about saying anything. He queued up the camera footage and stepped the hell away, turning the controls over to Casey.
Four cameras were set up for her building, shown on a single split-screen. She backed it up to just before last night’s schedule bus stop and used the zoom to check individual frames.
“What’s that in the left corner?”
Zac pointed to a partially-obscured bumper of a car that was illegally parked.
Aiden leaned in for a closer look. “That is your parking spot, is it not?”
“Yeah. It shouldn’t be there,” Casey agreed.
He looked more closely. “I’ve seen this parked somewhere before. That partial plate is familiar.”
“L4U 2,” Zac abruptly muttered. “Her co-worker. Harold.”
“Smoke-and-stroke?” Casey ground out, praying that Morgan’s serial killer prediction hadn’t come true. “What the fuck?”
Harold was there, but there was no sign of Morgan. Harold wore his coat with one arm in, one arm out to accommodate his cast. His passenger was a slender Caucasian male with light, long hair, about six feet tall. He kept his face away from the cameras, denying her a good ID.
Exiting Harold’s car, the two men went to stand by the dumpster to smoke.
Eventually, Morgan appeared on the screen. She spotted the car in Casey’s spot and left a note on the windshield.
Such a girl scout.
Harold appeared. They spoke. He lit up. Casey watched in growing horror as the man who’d been with him came up behind Morgan and put a white handkerchief over her face. They stuffed her in the trunk and took off.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Harold’s partner was versed enough to keep his face hidden from the security cameras. There were only a brief two seconds of frames they could use with facial recognition software.
She needed help and she needed it now. The longer it took to find her friend, the less likely her chance of survival.
Casey pulled out her phone and turned to the men. “Let me make some calls. One of the city detectives has friends in high places, and he owes me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thanksgiving dinner should have been a celebration, with members of three cadres gathered to give thanks and enjoy the feast that Tobias had prepared. But Zac and Aiden were searching for their missing mate, and Malik’s appetite had nearly disappeared with worry over Casey.
Their Casey.
Energetically connected to her by the transformation process, they could feel her fear for her friend. It would be a cruel blow if Morgan died. Casey would lose her best earthly friend. Zac and Aiden would be doomed to a life without their fated mate, consoling themselves with meaningless sex when their urges grew too great and forever mourning her loss.
Dinner was long done when Zac and Aiden came back. The rest of the men had kept a vigil, some here and some in the chapel, offering prayers for Morgan’s swift and safe return.
Judging by the looks on the partners’ faces, the news was not good.
Tobias gathered everyone in the lounge including their guests. Hearing it all together worked better than spreading an account in bits and pieces.
“Morgan was kidnapped by two men,” Zac told them, his voice breaking with emotion. “They were waiting at her apartment building when she got off the bus. It was a planned abduction, not random. They knocked her out, put her in the trunk, and left. The car was abandoned and set on fire. We don’t know what they’re driving or where they are but we do know who took her. The first man was a co-worker, Harold Zimmer. His accomplice…” Overcome with emotion, his voice trailed off. The poor man was having a hard time continuing.
Clasping his partner’s shoulder in reassurance, Aiden stepped in. His grim expression matched his tone. “Casey received a text while we were with her. The other male from the apartment’s surveillance video died two weeks ago,” he told them meaningfully.
Malik frowned to hear that at least one of the kidnappers Casey was hunting was supernatural. More than human. Her gun would be useless for protection.
“His body disappeared from the morgue,” Aiden continued. “He helped kidnap Morgan last night. Our ancient enemy isn’t dead. It still hides in the shadows and it has our mate.”
Voices raised in unison around the room. Holding up his arms, Tobias gestured for silence. “This is our city. Ours to protect. We cannot let Morgan down when we have sworn to shield her and all the future fated ma
tes to follow. I know our other brothers who are here tonight will aid us. Everyone will take to the air.”
Shouts of agreement rang out from the ranks of the Gryphons and the Sphinxes.
Malik looked at Iosefa. If Morgan had been taken because she was a fated mate, Casey could be next. Everything inside him urged him to search out their enemies and destroy them to protect her.
“And what of Casey?” Iosefa quickly questioned their superior. “She could be in danger, too. If she manages to finds Morgan, her mortal life could be in peril.”
Iosefa made a valid point without revealing that Casey was their fated mate. His words were met with rumbles of agreement around the room.
Tobias thought of another reason to intervene. “Morgan’s roommate is a Special Agent for the ATF,” he informed the other cadres. “If she’s searching for Morgan, Casey will be armed. If she happens upon us in our true forms, she’ll shoot first and ask questions later. Malik, Iosefa, you are charged with seeing that she’s kept safely away—for her sake as well as ours.”
He nodded his silver-threaded head. “You two, go. Now. Find Morgan’s roommate and watch over her. When we know something, you will be contacted. Do not let the female out of your sight. Keep her well away from danger.”
They didn’t need to be told twice. Malik hurried from the room with Iosefa beside him. Fetching their coats and backpacks from their apartment, they stripped to the waist, strapped their clothes to their beltline, and stepped outside. Spreading their wings in a partial transformation, they took to the air, flying high in the darkness, honing in on the fear that emanated from their mate.
Casey was driving around in her car. The search pattern she used seemed random and aimless as if she’d run out of places to look.
A little of the tension eased inside them. Casey was safe. Frightened but safe. Malik knew they couldn’t stay airborne forever. There was too much risk of being seen. Humans did not have wings. Sightings had already been reported in a few local papers but most people thought they were a hoax.