“Crap.” She squeezed my hand, then dropped it. “I'm going to regret this. I know I am.” She ran a hand through her bushy hair, making it even messier. “I'll try and help you, Kemet, even though I think it's stupid and wrong. I don't know that I'll have much success, but I'll try.”
“Thank you.” I leaned over impulsively and gave her a hug.
“All right.” She patted my back awkwardly and drew away. “Like I said, I know I'm going to regret this.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Kemet, can you hear me?”
“Genevieve?” I held the cell phone to my ear, straining to make out her words. It was barely an hour before my rehearsal dinner, and I sat alone on my lumpy loveseat, trying to work up the energy to get a shower and get dressed for the happy occasion. So far the farthest I'd gotten toward this lofty goal was kicking off my sensible black leather pumps and letting down my hair. The huge, vulgar diamond engagement ring Charles had given me lay discarded on my coffee table. It had suddenly seemed too heavy to wear when all I could think about was Richard and whether he was alive or dead. I had been sitting for hours in the semi-gloom of my living room, reliving the feel of his hands on my skin, the taste of his lips on mine. Only when the shrill tone of my cell phone intruded had I come to life.
“Kemet?” she said again in a barely audible voice. “Sorry I have to whisper, but I don't think I'm alone here.”
“Where? Where are you?” I demanded breathlessly.
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to come down here until I get some back-up and clear the scene,” she whispered. “Swear it, Kemet.”
“I swear,” I said at once, fully aware that I was lying through my teeth. But at that point I would have said anything, would have told any lie, to find Richard. To have him near me, to touch him again.
“Well…okay.” Detective Marks sounded doubtful, but to my relief, she began to talk anyway. “I'm down here at the far end of Channelside. You know the part with all the abandoned warehouses?”
“Yes? Go on,” I urged her.
“Well, I'm beginning to think that one of them—the old Ormond one, isn't quite as abandoned as the others,” she murmured. “At least, not many abandoned buildings have a brand new Mercedes S-class parked around back.”
“Is that all?” I asked, my heart sinking. “What makes you think Richard is there just because of some car parked out back?”
“For one thing I followed a lead out here—a tip from my best informant,” she said, still keeping her voice low. “Word on the street is that Momo wants to make an example out of your brother. Or, uh, whatever he is to you. The wiseguys like to spend time on this end of town—not many prying eyes to interrupt their deals. So I figured if they snatched Richard, they took him here.”
“Oh, my God.” I clutched the cell phone so hard its plastic casing creaked in my hand. “Oh, God, Genevieve, what if he's dead? What if they killed him?” Just the thought of never seeing him again, of living the rest of my life without him was enough to bring me to my knees. I couldn't live without him—I just couldn't.
“Settle down, Kemet,” Genevieve muttered. “He's not dead.”
“No?” I asked, almost afraid to let myself feel relief.
“No, but he is hurt. Or it looks like it anyway. I'm watching him through a busted out window around the side of the building. They've got him in some kinda weird cage, and he's lying on his side. Looks sick.”
“God.” I closed my eyes briefly, remembering my dreams. Rachel, please come to me. The moon is full tonight. I had to get to him. Had to get to him now. Genevieve must have heard the anguish in my voice because her own voice sharpened considerably.
“I'm telling you, Kemet, don't come down here,” she warned. “It's not safe. I mean, I shouldn't even be here by myself and I'm armed. I'm going to call for back-up just as soon as I hang up with you. We'll clear the scene and get him out of there. I want you to just wait by the phone until you hear from me again. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said obediently, but I was already slipping back into my shoes and grabbing my keys. I knew the warehouse she was talking about because I'd taken a field trip down to the seedy area of Channelside once while doing research for a case. It was at the far end of the industrial district, about a mile from where the cruise ships docked, and it had peeling orange paint and the word, Ormond printed in huge, black letters along the side.
“Good.” Genevieve sounded relieved that I was obeying orders so nicely. “I'm gonna let you go now and call—” There was a sudden thumping sound and then a clatter, as though she'd dropped the phone and it had landed on concrete.
“Genevieve?” I asked. “Genevieve?” There was a dry click on the other end, and the phone in my hand went dead abruptly. Oh, God, what had happened? Was she all right? Or had she just dropped the call?
I stood shifting from foot to foot for almost a minute, paralyzed by indecision. Then I thought of my dream again. Of the boy with Richard's eyes. With eyes like a wolf. Rachel, I'm dying, he whispered in my head.
Suddenly, my paralysis broke, and I knew what I had to do. Richard was sick, maybe dying, and I knew without anyone having to tell me that he was dying for want of me. For lack of my touch. No matter what danger I was walking into, I had to get to him. And I had to go now.
I ran out the door, forgetting all about Charles, forgetting about the rehearsal dinner and the fact that I was supposed to be married at eleven o'clock the next day. Forgetting everything but the man I needed so desperately.
“Richard,” I murmured under my breath as I started my car. “I'm coming. Just hold on—I'm coming.”
Chapter Fifteen
Don't let me be too late. Please, don't let me be too late. The thought circled in my head like a mantra as I pushed my little car to the limit trying to get to Channelside on time. The district wasn't far from my house, but I got stuck in Friday night traffic on the way, people trying to get to the trendy new restaurant and shopping district that had grown up around the Forum where the Tampa Bay Lightning played.
I thought about calling the police as I drove, but even if Genevieve hadn't done that already, I just wasn't sure I wanted them involved. I mean, what was I supposed to tell them, that I needed help freeing my brother, who was being held by the mob for turning into a werewolf and slaughtering one of their button men? And what if Richard was…in his other form when they found him? He'd be locked up and probably taken away by the government to be studied like some kind of freak. No, I couldn't risk it. It was better to go alone and see if there was any way I could get him out myself before I involved anyone in authority. I just hoped I'd get there before Genevieve's back-up—if she had gotten a chance to call them, that is.
There was one call I did make, though. I left a brief message on Charles's voice mail telling him not to worry if I didn't make it to the rehearsal dinner. I said there had been an emergency with a friend, and that I would get back to him as soon as I could. I felt guilty for the little white lie but the last thing I needed was for Charles to put out an APB on me. Call finished, I threw the cell phone in the backseat and put my fiancé, my rehearsal dinner, and my upcoming wedding completely out of my mind. Richard was the only person who mattered to me now. I had to concentrate on finding him. Finding him and bringing him home.
“Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath as I looked for a back street, trying to get out of the bottleneck of cars lined up to get to the parking garage. I finally managed it and headed in the direction of the abandoned warehouses. It was already getting dark by the time I spotted Genevieve's car, parked at a discreet distance from the Ormond warehouse, which sat like a huge white ghost in the gathering gloom.
I got out of my car warily and made my way around to the side of the big building. I didn't see any lights burning in the broken windows, but the warehouse didn't feel empty to my highly attuned senses. I walked softly around the edge of broken concrete that encircled the warehouse, keeping my eyes wide for any
danger. My plan, such as it was, was simple. Find a way in, rescue Richard, and get him out of there. I didn't have any idea how I was going to manage that, considering I was an unarmed woman alone, but I hoped that maybe I'd be able to sneak in and have him out before anyone noticed he was missing.
I was so intent on not making a sound that I almost missed the small silver object lying on the ground in front of me. It was far to the side, half hidden in a straggly clump of weeds that had grown up between the cracks in the concrete. But the last rays of the setting sun caught it just right and reflected a glare into my eyes. I stooped instinctively to pick it up and recognized it at once—Genevieve's cell phone. Turning it over, I saw it had a smear of blood on it. Oh, God, what had I gotten her into?
I looked to my left and saw a broken window with jagged shards of glass sticking out of its frame like loose teeth about eye level. Remembering that Genevieve had said she was looking at Richard as she talked, I stepped over to the window and stood on my tiptoes to look in. The interior of the warehouse was a large, cavernous space that was only dimly lit by the weak light from the setting sun. In the center of it, I saw a large, iron holding cage that looked like something you might see at the zoo or circus.
I caught my breath when I saw Richard lying in the middle of the cage on his side. As Genevieve had said, he looked sick. He laid half on his side facing me, and he had his eyes closed. He was shirtless, and his muscular chest moved up and down rapidly with his shallow breaths. Every once in a while he would stir and cry out in a low, hoarse voice, like a man having a terrible nightmare.
“Richard,” I hissed, not daring to raise my voice too much in case I attracted the attention of whomever held him. “Richard!”
Slowly, his eyes opened, and he looked up at me from where he lay on the floor of the cage. His pale green eyes were dull and lifeless, and there looked to be at least a week's stubble on his cheeks. How long had he been a prisoner here?
“Rachel?” he asked. “Is that really you or just another dream?” There was a hopelessness in his deep voice that shook me to the core. God, I had to get him out of there!
“It's me,” I said, wishing I was tall enough to climb through the window. Then I had an idea. “It's really me, Richard,” I told him. “Here, smell.” Carefully, I put my arm through the broken window and waved it at him, hoping to waft some of my scent his way. If he didn't believe his eyes, maybe he would believe his nose. I knew an ordinary man wouldn't have been able to catch the faint fragrance of my skin from twenty yards away, but Richard was anything but ordinary.
I saw his nostrils flare and he sat up suddenly. “Rachel!” His voice had lost all its apathy and was charged with urgency.
“Hold on,” I told him. “I'm going to get you out of there.”
“No, you can't,” he said. “This thing is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Just get out of here and get some help. And hurry. Whoever you call has to be here before moonrise or your friend is going to be in serious trouble.”
“My friend?” I followed his gesturing hand to what I had assumed was a crumpled mass of clothes in the corner of his cage. My heart stopped beating when I saw that it was Genevieve. The light was so dim it was hard to tell how badly she was hurt, but I thought I could make out a smudge of blood on the side of her head when I looked closely.
“She's out cold,” Richard said. “And they took her gun, so she doesn't even have anything to defend herself with.”
“Defend herself? Who does she need to defend herself from?” I asked. I didn't see any of the people who must be holding them in the cage around. It was just Richard and Genevieve in there, and as far as I could see, no one threatened them at the moment.
“Me, Rachel. She needs something to defend herself from me. There's going to be a full moon tonight—I can already feel it calling me. And if she's left alone in here with me when I change…” He let the words trail off, and I felt my stomach do a slow, forward roll. My God, he wouldn't really hurt Genevieve, would he? But if he was as mindless in beast form as he claimed, then how could he help it? Richard was right—I had to go get help, and I had to get it fast. Already the last light of the dying sun faded from the sky. How long until moonrise? Not long enough, I was terribly afraid.
“I'll call right now,” I said, fumbling with Genevieve's cell phone. “I'll call 911 and—”
“Rachel, behind you!”
Suddenly the small hairs at the nape of my neck stood up, and I heard the scrape of shoes on the concrete behind me.
I knew I was in trouble.
Chapter Sixteen
A rough hand grabbed me and pulled me away from the window. I dropped the cell phone with a clatter. My bare forearm caught a jagged piece of glass, and I felt a stinging line of fire as it sliced my skin. Dimly, I heard Richard roar with outrage and anger, and I caught one last, quick glimpse of him as he slammed into the unyielding bars of the cage.
“Well, well, what have we here?” The coarse masculine voice was familiar, and when my captor spun me around, I recognized the man I had nicknamed Gravel Voice on the night of my attack. The night when I first learned what Richard really was.
Gravel Voice was dressed entirely in black, and he looked about the same, except for the ragged pink scars that decorated one cheek and the right side of his throat. I could imagine how he had gotten those.
“Leave me alone!” I said, fighting his grip and trying to staunch the flow of blood from my cut arm at the same time. “Let me go—now!”
“Can't do it, girly,” he said, frowning. “See, you're trespassing on private property here. And it looks like you already seen too much.” He shook his head. “I told the boss we shoulda gone after you again, but he seemed to think it was enough to have your boyfriend.”
“He's not my boyfriend,” I said instantly. “He's my brother.”
One salt and pepper eyebrow shot up instantly. “Oh yeah? Well you must have a helluva strange family unit, girly.”
I felt my face heating. “It's none of your business.”
“Is now.” He started dragging me over the cracked concrete as I struggled uselessly.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded. My head was filled with every mob movie I had ever seen. Was my body going to be dumped in the bay wearing cement shoes? Or would they put two behind my ear and leave me as a warning for nosey ADAs everywhere?
“Where you wanted to go in the first place,” Gravel Voice said. “To see your brother.”
He pulled me around to a small side door that led directly into the cavernous space inside the warehouse and marched me over to the large metal cage. Richard was at the bars, shirtless and growling, looking twice his normal size. There was a caged tension in his big body, but as far as I could see, he hadn't changed in any other way. Was there a reason he was holding the beast inside himself at bay? If there was ever a time to let it out, this was it, in my opinion.
Gravel Voice kept a firm hold on one of my upper arms with one hand and drew a gun smoothly from some hidden holster with the other. “Back down, friend,” he said, his voice cool and deadly. “We both know I'll do it.”
“Take your hands off her. Don't touch her—she's mine.” Richard's voice was a low, uneven growl.
“Back away from the bars and you'll get to see her up close and personal. But any funny business and she buys it right here in front of you.” Gravel Voice was all business, just as he had been the night he and Rat-Face had attacked me.
“Fine. But you're going to pay for putting your hands on her.” Richard backed away from the bars, his green eyes blazing, his broad chest heaving.
Gravel Voice went slightly pale, and I thought he might be remembering the way Richard had ripped out his buddy's throat. “Big talk,” he said, pressing me up against the bars. He let go of me, but I could feel the cold ring of metal as the mouth of the gun slipped into my hair and settled snugly against the nape of my neck. I went absolutely still. One twitch and he could blow my head off. Better not to t
witch.
There was a jangle of keys and then the door of the cage slid open with a protesting screech. Gravel Voice shoved me inside. Before I could even turn around, he'd slammed the door shut again and turned the key. Obviously he wasn't taking any chances.
“You're a lot of big talk,” he told Richard, still pointing the gun in our direction. “But I know you can back it up. I know what I saw.”
Richard grabbed me and pushed me behind him, shielding me with his body. I peeked out from behind his muscular arm to see what Gravel voice would do next.
“The others think I'm crazy,” he continued, frowning. “Hell, I convinced the boss to steal this damn cage from that fuckin' Big Cat Rescue place special just for you—to keep you locked up once we brought you in. This cage could hold an eight hundred pound tiger—you know that? And all you do is sit in it. But I know you can do more. Because I saw.”
“What do you think you saw?” Richard grinned at him ferociously, and I shivered at the malice in his tone.
“I don't know, but whatever it is, I'm gonna see it again tonight. The boss is coming over later on, and you will change for him or I'll shoot that pretty little girlfriend, or sister, or whatever the hell she is to you right between the eyes.”
Richard roared and threw himself suddenly at the bars. To his obvious satisfaction, Gravel Voice paled and took two quick steps back. Then he scowled.
“Just wait,” he said, holstering his gun with quick, jerky motions. “Just you wait, you freak.” He turned and stalked away from the cage, his footsteps ringing in the huge, dusty space of the warehouse, leaving me alone in the cage with my unconscious friend and my possibly dangerous brother.
When he was gone, Richard grabbed me in a fierce hug. “Rache,” he murmured hoarsely in my hair. “Never thought I'd see you again.”
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