Wolf’s Honor: Caedmon Wolves Book Six

by Amber Ella Monroe

  “The cops, Connor!” Rodney finally blared through the earpiece. “The local cops have intercepted. Man down! We need your orders, boss. Now!”

  “Abor—.” A bullet shot past Connor, nearly clipping him on the ear. “Shit!” He ducked lower, gun held ready to fire. A long, high-pitched buzz rang in his ear. The earpiece had failed. Either that or the connection to the van had gotten cut-off. There was no off-switch, and the sound continued to irritate the crap out of him so he shook the piece from his ear and shoved it in his pocket.

  When he glimpsed the palm of his hand, blood stained it. His eardrums pulsed frantically, and he pressed his palm against his ear. Sure enough, the bullet had grazed him, but he felt no pain. Only panic.

  His team needed to get out of here. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get the innocent woman out of here.

  It didn’t take him long to put the mental puzzle pieces together. The local cops must have decided at the last minute that the tip and suspicious activity in the bar tonight was too great not to investigate.

  Something was going on down the hallway in the back office, and the cops had arrived to bust in on the operation.

  Without a second thought, he rushed toward the hallway while the masked gunmen opened fire on the cops There was only one person on his mind right now. His life may have been in jeopardy, but his protective urges led him to follow the woman down the hallway.

  She’d barely made it halfway down the hall with the stranger wearing the red symbol, but the tables had turned. The woman was being dragged down the corridor by her hair. The stranger had gotten ahold of the backpack she’d been carrying, but it appeared that she was in trouble.

  “My brother!” she screamed.

  Despite the shots being fired and the frantic crowd in the main area of the bar, he could still make out her cries.

  “My brother, please, where is he?”

  A squeal of pain wrenched from her throat as her captor pulled harder. Connor’s protective instincts went into full beast-mode and he rushed toward them.

  The stranger with the red symbol never saw him coming. He pistol whipped the man’s thick skull with the butt of the gun, then clocked him upside the head with an elbow thrust. The man fell like dead weight to the ground.

  The gunfire grew closer, and something hit Connor’s back, knocking him forward. Bile rose in his throat, some of it filling his mouth. If it weren't for the bulletproof vest he'd have probably been a dead man. He swallowed down the foul liquid and bent down to grab the backpack and the woman whose screams and pleas he could barely make out anymore because of the injuries taxing his body.

  He didn’t pull her by her hair, but he did force her by the arm.

  A door swung open, and two men held up their pistols. He shot both of them in the head and headed toward the exit with the woman.

  A third bullet grazed his right arm—the arm holding the gun. He could feel the blood seeping from the wound, soaking the fabric, and dripping down his wrists.

  “My brother…,” she pleaded, but he only saw her lips moving. “Andrew!”

  She kept looking back at the last door they’d passed, making it harder for him to keep her positioned in front of him to protect her from the shots being fired at them.

  “There’s no helping him now,” he told her.

  Connor bit into his bottom lip, fought back the pain riddling his body, and with what little strength he could muster, kicked the door out with the heel of his boot.

  Into the night, he fled with the amber-eyed beauty in his possession.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Who the hell are you?” Antonia demanded as the stranger pulled her along.

  She was literally out of breath from trying to keep up with him, and the sound of gunshots and the throngs of screaming people still clouded her mind. The events had happened so fast, her head spun as if she were experiencing a bout of whiplash. In all the times she’d worked as a courier, she’d never experienced the level of danger she had tonight. She almost wondered if the man pulling her along wasn’t an undercover cop.

  He had a gun, wore crisply ironed clothes, and had killer aim—literally. He also had a vice grip on her arm.

  This man had killed three people, and she didn’t want her body to be added to the count. Why had he shot those men and escaped with her? Was he keeping her as a hostage?

  The police sirens and gunshots grew more distant as he took them further through some alleys and back streets. A run-in with the law, even under these circumstances, would not be a good idea for her right now. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to let her go. Or, if she could somehow grab her bag back she could get to her small 9mm Luger handgun.

  She swallowed and glanced sideways at him.

  The stranger was about four heads taller than her and massive in size. He was packing more muscles than she would ever hope to gain in her life. A lot more. His dirty blond hair shone under the moonlight, and what little she could see of his skin was tanned and bronze. He wouldn’t turn to look at her as he pulled her along the deserted street in an urgent manner. She could barely make out any of his facial features, but from what she’d seen of him when they’d been in the bar, she knew he was striking. In a hard-edged sort of way.

  “Answer me!” she ordered again. “Are you a cop?”

  “Do I look like a cop?”

  She huffed. “Who are you?”

  “We don’t know each other,” he replied.

  His voice was gruff and low, and there was a hint of strain to the way he’d replied. She glimpsed the side of his face and noted blood seeping from his ear and down his neck, staining his shirt.

  “You’re bleeding,” she stated.

  “I’ll heal,” he told her.

  “Why are you kidnapping me? I’m not the one you want.”

  “Aren’t you now?” was his reply.

  She fought against his hold and was able to take a glance over her shoulder. Oddly, no one was coming after them as far as she could tell, but he rushed as if there were someone on their tails. As her attention waned, the toe of her boot got caught in a crack in a sidewalk and she nearly fell.

  “Pay attention to what’s in front of you,” he grumbled. “These streets are covered with broken glass bottles. You don’t want to get yourself cut, do you?”

  “Broken glass won’t kill me,” she replied.

  He turned sharply to study her as if surprised by her answer. She thought she heard a grunt of indifference, and then he turned his attention forward once more. Only this time, his grip was a little more lax.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Once again, she tried to look at his face, but he kept his gaze on the sidewalk in front of him.

  “One of who?”

  “A Cobra.”

  He slowed his pace a little and turned to look at her. His jawline was hard-set and his lips were set in a thin line. His eyes narrowed. “Cobra?”

  “Yeah. You’ve got the package right there,” she said, referring to the bag he’d snatched up back at the bar. “So why don’t you just keep the bag and let me go?”

  “You have me mistaken for someone else,” he said sternly.

  “Look, Mr. Gunman, I’ve asked you several times who you are, and all you give me are riddles,” she replied. “Where are you taking me?”

  “I want answers from you.”

  “Well, I don’t have them,” she said.

  “I haven’t asked any questions yet.”

  They turned the corner, this time entering a dark alleyway. A feeling of dread washed over her. Was this the moment of her demise? After all she’d been through, was she meant to die in this spot at the hands of the man who’d pulled her from a club swarming with cops? She should have feared for her life, but the only thing she feared right now was not seeing Andrew again. Despite his dumb decisions and the aggravation he caused her, her brother was her life.

  “Look,” she said, “Thanks for helping me out back there with that jerk, but
I really need to go back to help my brother.”

  He stopped. “That bar is filled with police and the thug group you mentioned. I don’t know what’s in this bag of yours…” He held up her backpack. “…or what your connection to that group is. I doubt you want to go back and spend the rest of your life in prison or buried six feet under a headstone before your time.”

  Antonia grimaced at the thought, but she met his colorful stare. “I don’t.”

  “Well, then…I need you to cooperate and tell me what you know about this group…this Cobra you spoke of. Will you do that?”

  His voice was so alluring, almost trapping her into whatever trance it was meant to invoke.

  “I’m not allowed to speak about anything.”

  “Your involvement with them almost got you killed, so why not?”

  “Look, I’m just a courier. I doubt I know anything that will help you,” she said.

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “I’m not asking you to help me. I don’t need help.”

  “Newsflash, I didn’t ask for your help either.” She tried to jerk away, but his hold overpowered her.

  “You know more than you’re letting on,” he said.

  “I don’t.”

  He breathed deeply and his nostrils flared. Something in his eyes changed. Not just the color of his pupils, but the shape, as well. “I can tell when you lie. I can tell a lot of things.”

  “Then you can probably tell how I’m feeling about being kidnapped,” she snapped.

  “People who think they’re being kidnapped usually put up more of a fight than you did.” His mouth actually spread into a cute grin. “People who are guilty, however, would do anything to remove themselves from a police raid. So, tell me, are you afraid or guilty?”

  She frowned. How dare he accuse her of being guilty? He had no idea…“Neither.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he mumbled, lifted a small black object to his ear, and then pressed it firmly. He recited some letters and numbers, which she found odd, then he cursed under his breath. “Where are you, Rodney? Taylor? Dammit!”

  In what seemed like his vulnerable moment, Antonia took the chance and bolted down the alleyway. She hated running, but she sprinted as if everything depended on it, even though she had no sense of direction. She hoped to God that Andrew had made it out of that place alive, but she was almost sure that returning to the Dockhouse bar to help him now would be too late. As stupid as Andrew may have been in his decision-making, he would never ask her to come back to a place where it was certain she’d be killed or captured.

  She heard the stranger huffing and puffing and closing the distance between them. She was small and quick, but he was large and tall, taking long strides behind her.

  It didn’t take him long to catch up to her. In just a few seconds, she was sandwiched between the stranger and cinder block walls. The force of his hard body flush against hers pushed the air right out of her. The anticipation of her escape quickly faded, but her heart pumped quickly as she raised her gaze to meet the eyes of the stranger.

  She gasped when she saw the animal-like eyes staring back at her. They were a dull blue, almost grey, like the outer edge of a tornado. He locked gazes with her, his stare calculating and unwavering. Through this connection, she found herself at the door to his soul, his core, yet still, he wouldn’t let her in. She realized she wanted in…

  A sound like a growl escaped from between his lips. She could feel the vibrations rumbling through his chest as it pressed against hers. The cinder blocks were hard and cold against her back, but this man was hot and comforting against her front. Intuition sparked, and she knew that this moment marked the night that her life would be forever changed.

  The stranger brought his hand up to her face and took some of her hair between his fingers. He leaned in, brought the strands to his nose and took a deep breath.

  “You can try running to the ends of this earth, but as long as I can pick up that sweet scent of yours, I’ll always be able to find you,” the stranger said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Connor Maxim,” he said.

  “Connor,” she whispered, letting the name roll around on her tongue like fine champagne. “My name is Antonia, but believe me, I’m not worth searching for.”

  He turned his animalistic stare on her yet again. This time, his gaze was intense and riddled with questions. “You’re worth it, plus a whole lot more.”

  He dropped the lock of hair and brought his lips closer to her face until they were barely touching her chin. “Now is not a good time to run from me, beautiful Antonia,” he said. “It’s too dangerous out there for you right now.”

  “I’m not a stranger to dangerous things,” she said, holding his gaze.

  “Something tells me that you’re not the type to choose danger over safety.”

  “Well, you saved me. Thank you again.”

  She felt herself blush and her face grew hot when his gaze roamed over her face.

  “There are far more dangerous things in this world than a police raid.”

  And just as quickly as he’d pinned her to the wall, he backed away.

  His fingers went up to press the earpiece firmly again. "Copy," he said to no one in particular.

  Taking her by the arm again, he led her further down the other side of the alleyway. “Hurry. Cops are on the lookout and are reviewing the surveillance camera footage now. We need to find some wheels, fast.”

  “How do you know all of this?” she asked, her tone crisp and angry.

  “I have spies in all the right places,” he replied.

  “Spies? You’re being quite secretive—”

  Pop, pop, pop! Pop!

  The sounds of gunshots rung out dangerously close to them. Her heart jumped violently and her breath got stuck in her throat. Police sirens blared loudly, but by that time, Antonia was so startled that she couldn’t tell if they were coming or going. Before she knew it, they were off, running. And that’s when she got her answer. He couldn’t be a cop if he were running from them.

  “Come in! Repeat. Rodney, come in,” he rasped as they ran. “Disband and abort.” His commands were terse.

  It sounded like the gunfire was coming from more than one gun, and that could only mean that whatever had happened in the bar had now made its way out onto the streets.

  Connor came to a stop next to a large black Hummer. The driver inside didn’t stand a chance. He looked up, startled as if he’d been caught in a criminal act. It took Connor all of five seconds to yank the unlocked driver’s side door open and point a gun in the driver’s face.

  “Don’t shoot, man.” The man held up his hands. “I didn’t know this was your ride.”

  Confused, Antonia looked down at the wire cutters in the man’s hands. All evidence led to the fact that the man was a car thief.

  “Get out,” Connor demanded.

  “Just don’t shoot.” The man moved slowly.

  All the while, the police sirens continued to blast through the city district. The sounds drew nearer until Antonia was certain that, at any moment, they would turn the corner and discover her and her kidnapper.

  “Too slow.” Connor growled and then grabbed the driver by the collar, dragging the man out of the vehicle.

  The man stumbled onto the street and then got up and took off running through some buildings.

  “Get inside. We have to move quickly.”

  Connor tossed one more frantic look behind his shoulder before jumping inside and closing the door. He bent down and fumbled with some wiring under the steering wheel. Antonia was no amateur when it came to hot-wiring cars and she observed as he took the steps to bring the engine to life.

  The stranger pumped the pedal a few times and pulled out onto the street.

  “Did you just take this truck from the thief who was trying to steal it himself?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did. My guys got caught up in the police raid and had to bail.”

  He exchanged
a few glances between her and the road ahead. He had a tight grip on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the Hummer at a consistent speed, slightly above what she knew to be the speed limit.

  “Start talking,” he said. “And I might let you go.”

  “What? Let me go so you can chase me to the ends of the earth,” she teased. “I don’t know what it is that you think I know.”

  “Cobra. And what’s in the bag?” He nodded toward the backpack between them.

  “Cobra is the name of the group that my brother and I have been working for. I mean, we don’t actually work for them, but my brother is often contacted for small jobs.”

  “Small jobs?”

  “I already told you. I’m a courier.”

  “A mail lady?” he asked with some irony in his tone.

  “No. Not like that. We deliver time-sensitive, classified materials.” She swallowed and looked at the bag. “Not just mail.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know. We aren’t allowed to look. Couriers get killed for snooping and snitching.”

  “Tell me what you know of the bar we left,” he said.

  “Dockhouse? It was my first time, so I can’t help you there.”

  “What orders were you given tonight as a courier?”

  “My brother and I work together. He got the orders. After a successful drop, we were supposed to get paid. The man you killed back there was a scout, and I never successfully delivered.”

  “He was hurting you. I would kill him again. Why is there a need for two couriers for one drop?”

  “You’re asking me things I don’t have answers to.”

  He turned slightly in the seat, hands still on the wheel. “Maybe your brother does?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he does, but I doubt he knows enough. Cobra—that’s what they call themselves anyway—is an underground secret organization for a reason. That’s all I know. When we need money, we do the job, and we get paid. It might sound naive, but I don’t care to know anything else.”

  “Why don’t you care?”

  Antonia swallowed, willing a surge of memories to stay buried deep inside of her. “Because in some cases, knowing the truth won’t change a damn thing.”