by Susan Bliler
The loud whomp, whomp, whomp of the helicopter’s blades slowed and then finally stopped. Shy was still clutching York’s vest when his hold on her loosened. “You alright Shy?”
She simply nodded without looking up.
York reached between their bodies and unfastened his seat belt. Then he was standing and taking Shy with him, bundle of blankets and all.
Outside of the helicopter it was still just as dark and just as cold as it had been forty minutes earlier when Shy had first been rescued. A short dark skinned man circled the helicopter and asked, “Any word?”
“Where are we?” York countered.
The small man, who Shy assumed was the pilot Tito responded, “About two clicks east of our designated LZ.
Shy looked up in time to catch York focusing his gaze on something in the distance. She followed the path of his eyes afraid he’d seen something or someone. Instead she was greeted with dark woods, covered with a fine layer of Canadian snow. When she looked back up at York he was still intently focused on something and stayed that way for long minutes before he finally blinked and answered, “It’s clear. Marko’s securing rooms; Bodi and Lok have just secured transport and will be enroute. ETA, five minutes.” He turned from Tito and stalked toward the woods with Shy. “Secure the site. I’m hiding Shy in the woods in case anyone saw us go down. We still don’t know if the Megalya are following.”
Unintentionally whimpering at the thought, the sound provoked a hard look from York. “Don’t worry Shy. You belong to one of us, which means it is our honor to die defending you. If the Megalya come, they’ll have to kill me to get to you.”
She knew the revelation was meant to be comforting, but it wasn’t. She didn’t want the Megalya chasing them and she sure as hell didn’t want this gentle giant dying over her. Guilt gnawed at her as she watched Tito over York’s shoulder. The small man pulled a firearm from a holster at his hip and hunkered down beside the helicopter to scan the area.
York carried her away from the chopper and into the woods. It got darker the further they got from the clearing and it wasn’t lost on her that she was being taken into the woods by a stranger that just happened to be some special forces assassin and was built like a brick shit house.
“Y-you don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” If he was going to kill her in the forest, she at least wanted a running chance.
York didn’t even look at her. “You have no shoes.”
She opted for a more direct route, “You could let me go. I-I haven’t done anything wrong.” Tears flooded her eyes, “I just want to go home.”
York kept walking. “You are safe. I thought I told you this. We’ll take you to your ma…” He didn’t finish the sentence, instead frowned at her before averting his eyes. It was silent before he emitted a low growl.
Shy drew in a deep breath. She was fading fast. As usual, she was starving. They weren’t fed often in the Megalya cells and after months of going without nourishment, her body had begun breaking itself down to find nutrients. She was exhausted from the rescue and the emotional roller coaster she’d been on for the past few hours. She wanted to laugh at how ludicrous the situation was. She was alone in the forest with a stranger who had just growled at her and she was too damn tired and weak to care.
Letting her head fall against his shoulder she felt his body tense before he inhaled deeply. He spun slowly and shifted her body so he was able to reach down to his hip and retrieve a pistol before he lifted it straight out in front of him while silently taking a knee. The action had Shy lifting her head to stare in the direction his weapon was pointed.
For long minutes she didn’t see or hear anything aside from the rustling of the wind through the pine trees over head. Then she picked up a low humming sound. As it got closer she realized it was an approaching vehicle. Before she ever saw it, York re-holstered his pistol and stood. When the jeep pulled out of the shadows with its lights off, Shy wondered how the driver was able to maneuver the vehicle through the dark woods, let alone find two bodies hiding in the brush.
The jeep pulled to a halt and York jerked the back door open before climbing in. He kept Shy on his lap. She recognized one of York’s men as the driver. No words were spoken as they back-tracked for Tito then traversed the mountain side, finding a barely discernible road that led down to the highway and into a small town.
Chapter 3
Shy woke in a tiny motel room. It smelled of musty carpet and cigarette smoke that had long since seeped into the walls before going stale in refusal to disperse. The bed she slept on was small and a broken spring was jabbing her in the ribs. It was heaven! She’d given up hope of ever being freed from the Megalya facility. Now, her eyes flooded with tears at the simple pleasure of sleeping in a warm room on a mostly soft mattress. Her stomach grumbled and as she’d done so many nights before she simply ignored it.
“I’m glad you’re awake.”
The words pulled her attention to a chair she hadn’t even noticed next to the window. York’s massive frame barely fit in the weak looking piece of furniture. He had the curtain pulled back a fraction and was scanning the area.
Releasing the curtain he stood and stalked across the room to a table. Shy’s eyes followed his movement and the instant she saw the bucket of chicken the scent of it hit her and had her stifling a moan of hunger.
York grabbed the entire bucket and fisted a handful of napkins before crossing to the bed and setting the chicken on Shy’s lap. “Sorry, it’s the best I can do right now.”
With trembling fingers she reached up and grabbed a piece of the still warm, fried chicken and attacked it. Too hungry to care that she was acting like a starving refugee, she devoured two pieces before she finally looked up and bashfully held the bucket out toward York.
The behemoth smiled and shook his head before his look changed to one of pity. “Doc says you shouldn’t stuff yourself. It’ll make you sick after so many days without.”
Shy pulled a greasy drumstick from between her lips long enough to ask, “Doc?”
York crossed back to the table and pulled a carton of milk from another bag. He handed her the milk and she quickly folded the top open before downing half the contents in one swallow.
“Easy,” York admonished. “She said not to give you too much.” He shoved an indecisive hand into his hair, “I promised I’d ration your food, but damn if you don’t look ready to blow away.” He went back to the chair by the window. Bending to place his elbows on his spread knees he faced her. “How often were you fed?”
“Usually every few days,” she mumbled around a bite of food. “They started to feed me more the last few weeks. Not sure why,” she lied before smirking, “Good behavior I suppose.”
York watched her silently before he sat up, “Conn attempted to circle back with Leto, but they showed up on Canadian radar and had to hightail it across the border.”
“Conn?” She remembered reading about him in the Walker files kept at Megalya.
“Commander Conn Drago. He led the mission. He’s the best there is.” York smiled then, “And when we get you back to StoneCrow, Commander Drago and his team will return to the Megalya facility and hunt down the rest of those fuckers. No one escapes Conn Drago.”
Shy nodded. What were the odds there existed two Commander Conn Dragos? He’d been the one she’d researched while working for the Megalya. Her face twisted in curiosity. “What’s a Leto?”
York frowned. “Leto.”
He said it like she should understand and when she shook her head York stood and paced to the bed. “Leto Reigns. That’s the name of the other prisoner who was being held at Megalya.”
Realization dawned and Shy dropped her half eaten piece of chicken into the bucket before grabbing a wad of napkins and wiping her mouth then pulling the soft paper down each of her fingers. “H-how is he?”
She noticed that York seemed relieved that she knew of the other prisoner, but didn’t ask why.
York sighed loudly in
relief and sat back down. For a moment, her question had him unsure if Shy even knew Leto, but once he’d stated that he was the other prisoner she’d clearly remembered him. It was typical for Walkers to be held captive and never relinquish their names to their captors.
“He’s fine. A little undernourished like you and a great deal cranky, but no worse for the wear. With rest and food he should be fully healed in a few days.”
“Fully healed?” Shy stopped cleaning her hands, “What did they do to him.”
“Just tests. He refused and fought them on several occasions, but we heal quickly.”
Shy dropped her eyes, “I never had any success with fighting them. Th-they only hurt me more.” She stared at her hands.
“What kind of tests.”
Her shoulders hunched as she tried to make herself smaller, “I-I don’t know. Just tests. Lots and lots of tests. Whatever they were looking for or trying to do must not have worked. They weren’t very happy with me.”
“How did they capture you?”
Blinking hard Shy sat up straighter, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She wasn’t about to admit to this relative stranger that she’d actually been a Megalya employee before they’d kidnapped her and experimented on her. She hadn’t known what kind of monsters she’d been working for until it was too late and when she’d confronted them they’d been sure to make her pay. Her eyes scanned the room, “C-can I call my sister?”
He seemed disappointed to have to say no. “I’m sorry, but it’ll have to wait until we’re back to the States.” Uncertainty warred on her tired features and York felt compelled to add, “You will be allowed to contact your family as soon as we get you back to StoneCrow. We need to ensure we’re not being followed, which means all comms are down.”
She eyed his hands, “How do you stay in contact with your men?”
He didn’t want to have to explain the mystic—mist for short—that Skin Walkers used to communicate with each other telepathically. “Hand signals and gestures,” he lied. He pointed to the window. “I have men stationed across the parking lot. They’ve got eyes on this room.”
“Oh.”
He relaxed, happy that she seemed appeased with the answer. Watching her, his expression shifted to one of concern as she yawned and blinked slowly. He got up and took the bucket of chicken from her lap. “Rest Shy. You need it. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” As if to add emphasis, he pulled the pistol that was strapped to his thigh and returned to his seat to face the window. He peeled back the curtains and scanned the area. Shy reclined back on the bed and watched York stare out the window until sleep reclaimed her.
Chapter 4
“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about,” Leto growled impatiently.
“Shy!” Conn growled, “You don’t remember her? She’s your angel!”
Leto slammed his hands down on the table and stood, slamming his chair back against the wall as his dark eyes locked on the large commando in front of him. “For the last time. I do not have an angel!” He wrapped a large hand around the halo at his own throat for emphasis.
A Skin Walker’s halo was generated over time much like the antlers of a deer. Only the Walker could remove his halo and it was only taken off to gift to his angle, his mate. A Walker’s angel experienced a transformation with the acceptance of the halo. Like their Walker mate, angels would become immune to illness and would be able to communicate with their Walker mate through the mystic, the mist for short. It was a telepathic means of communication.
Conn leaned forward going nearly nose to nose with the Walker who was mere fractions of an inch taller.
“Conn!” Aries chastised grabbing her Walker husband’s arm.
Conn eased back to put himself between Leto and his wife. He kept his eyes locked on Leto. “I’d have to be dead to forget about my Aries.” He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know what they did to you in there, but my men don’t lie to me. They have your angel, she carries your scent and like it or not she remembers you.”
The door opened and the CEO of StoneCrow entered smoothly wearing a dark suit. “Stand down Commander.”
Conn growled but stepped back when Aries frowned and tugged on his arm.
“Welcome to StoneCrow Mr. Reigns. I’m Monroe StoneCrow.” He gestured toward Leto’s overturned chair, “Please have a seat.”
Leto sneered from Conn to Monroe before relaxing his posture and unfurled his clenched fists. He bent to grip the overturned chair and his long satiny hair swirled around his arm in a glossy black tornado. He slammed the chair upright and dropped onto the chair crossing thickly muscled arms across an equally impressive chest.
“I’ve been informed you’ve refused to go to medical.” Monroe grabbed a chair from where it sat against the wall and pulled it to the table to take a seat across from Leto with Conn and Aries still lingering at his back.
“I’ve just spent God knows how long being pricked and prodded by lab rats. The first person who comes at me with a needle fucking dies!”
Monroe shrugged, “Fair enough. Before you’re taken to your quarters, I’d like to discuss your angel.”
Leto growled and his dark eyes narrowed on the CEO as a rumble emitted from his chest.
“He doesn’t remember her,” Conn supplied accusingly.
Monroe frowned and turned to look at Conn. “Could York be wrong?”
“No,” Conn didn’t hesitate to answer. “He was with me when I found Leto. He knows Leto’s scent. The woman has been marked by him,” he thrust his chin in Leto’s direction. “I might question it if it was York’s word alone but Marko and Bodi confirm it as well.”
“Lok?” Monroe asked.
“No,” Conn responded, “he was with me but three’s enough Monroe. She’s his!”
Monroe turned to stare at Leto and watched as the man’s jaw clenched. “Conn, take him to his quarters. Let’s get our brother fed, hydrated, and rested. It’s the best we can do if he refuses medical.” He turned to stare at Commander Drago, “Have Chef Jenny Arkinson deliver his meal personally. Leto’s been malnourished long enough, I want his needs met.”
Conn’s expression didn’t falter at the CEO’s subterfuge. Jenny Arkinson was a Walker and wasn’t the estates chef but their resident chief surgeon. It was clear to both Monroe and Conn that something was wrong with Leto. There had to be for the Walker to have forgotten about his angel. Neither Monroe nor Conn scented a lie when Leto claimed to not know Shy so it was apparent that the Walker legitimately believed he didn’t know his own mate.
Monroe stood and walked to the door where he was met by Conn. “Where are they?” Monroe asked in a hushed tone.
“The BlackBird went down just outside of Lethbridge. They’re holed up right now. York’s getting Shy fed and rested. She’s so frail that he’s afraid to move her right now.”
Monroe nodded and rubbed at his smooth chin, “The Canadian military was prevented from pursuing you across the border but they did contact local authorities. It nearly turned into an international incident. It was smart thinking to fly below the radar once you hit the border. The Canadians appeared to be deceptive.”
Conn rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m glad it worked. We skimmed more than a few pines making it back.” His expression darkened, “I doubt I’d do it again.”
“You won’t have to. I want you to take a convoy to escort York and his team back, but they’ll be driving not flying. Too many eyes on the sky right now.
Get Leto situated then get your ass up to Canada and get our Walkers and Leto’s mate back here. I want it done ASAP.”
Conn nodded.
“And I want it done quietly. No mistakes Commander.”
Monroe pulled the door open and had just taken a step when he heard Leto’s growl, “I’m going with you to Canada.”
Leto had heard of Monroe StoneCrow and his estate that was a refuge for Walkers. It was the reason he’d come to the North West and it was the reason he’d been cap
tured.
Monroe’s eyes narrowed on Leto before he looked at Conn. Conn shrugged and said, “I’d want to go for my angel. He’s welcome to come.”
“Fine,” Monroe bit out turning to Leto. “But not in this condition. Eat, shower, and rest. Commander Drago will retrieve you when it’s time.”
“I’m fine,” Leto challenged.
“I won’t have your health putting my men in jeopardy. You’re welcome to accompany the team but only once you’re rested and nourished. We’re Walkers Leto, which as you already know means we’re being hunted. You need to be able to back up my men and protect your own ass if shit hits the fan.” Monroe turned and addressed Conn. “Get him settled. I’ll contact Chef Arkinson myself. She’ll be at his suite waiting.” Monroe didn’t look back as he stated loudly exiting the small interrogation room, “Welcome home Leto.”
***
Shy woke to find York cramming gear into a dark rucksack. He smiled at her when she sat up.
“How you feeling?”
“Fine,” she shoved scarlet hair from her eyes, “What’s happening?”
“We’re rolling out.” York glanced at his watch. “Commander Drago’s headed our way. They’re going to meet us on the state side of the port.”
It was too much information coming in too quickly. Shy rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her belly ached and she rubbed at it and frowned. “How long was I asleep?”
“Fourteen hours. You hungry?” He stopped working to stare at her in obvious concern.
Fourteen hours? Holy shit! “No,” she rubbed her belly again and York’s eyes followed the movement. He stood and rounded to the bed to tower over her.
“You okay?”
“I’m feeling a little nauseated.” She hid a flinch at the telling confession.
His frown deepened, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have allowed you to eat so much.”
“It’s okay,” Shy mumbled relieved he thought it was from overeating. She sat up and was easing off the bed when all color drained from her face and she raced to the bathroom. The door slammed and York could only stare at it and listen as Shy got sick.