by Cecilia Lane
When he returned, he had more than just a room key. He cradled a six-pack of beer under one arm and a bag of shitty gas station snacks in a plastic bag looped around his wrist. That was what she did to him. She filled him with overwhelming instincts to provide and protect.
Mara hopped out of the truck as soon as he approached. Smart woman, keeping watch. She followed him to the door and into the room.
“I didn’t have enough cash for adjoining rooms, so I got double beds. Hope that’s all right.”
She glanced around the admittedly terrible room. The air was musty and the light in the bathroom flickered. “It’s fine. It’s just for a few hours of sleep. Doesn’t need to be perfect.”
No, but it put them in close quarters and his bear was already riled up from a fight and touching her for hours. The beast always wanted more blood or sex after danger, and there was no one better than his mate. Hudson would be pleased if he didn’t need to sneak off for a change before the night was over.
He dumped the beer and bag on an uneven dresser and emptied out his pockets. He made quick work of laying out the bags of chips and treats and slightly soggy sandwiches. Then he presented the meal like a magician revealing his final trick. “Beer and chips?”
“Speaking my language. I’m not much of a wine and cheese gal.”
“Good to know. Nothing fancy for you, ever.” He twisted the caps off two bottles and handed her one. After a clinking toast, he left her to pick what she wanted and made his way to the bathroom counter.
After unwrapping the strip of cloth around his arm, he pressed his fingers over the sealed wound. Pink skin closed the cut and even that would likely fade in a day or two. He couldn’t feel anything under his skin, which was good. Just because he could do some self-surgery didn’t mean he liked it.
He tugged his shirt over his head to check for other wounds. He hadn’t wanted her to worry, but something stung his back when he rolled out on the deck. Whatever had hit him wasn’t more than another pink mark. Small blessings.
A soft gasp behind him jerked his eyes up in the mirror. In the reflection, Mara perused his broad back with red growing on her cheeks. Kitty liked what she saw, and his bear pushed to give her more.
Hudson slid his eyes shut and dug deep for the will to keep his hands to himself. She’d had a harrowing day on top of her attempt to shove him away the day before. As much as he wanted to wrap her hair around his fingers and stretch her out underneath him, there was no way she’d let him. He had to lure her into trusting him.
By the Broken, that was hard when her sweetly spicy scent thickened with desire.
When he opened his eyes again, she’d turned her face away and downed her beer. Hudson swallowed hard, then finished off his own.
“So…” he whistled. “That happened.”
Her little eyefuck, or the entire night, he wasn’t sure.
“Yeah. Yeah, it did.” Mara gave a shaky laugh. She busied herself with popping the cap on another bottle. “We need to figure out what to do next. We can’t stay here,” she said quietly.
Her cheeks had lost their faint blush and her voice held steady. Even her eyes were back to a normal blue. Her control was monumental after a year without constant contact with her inner lioness.
Hudson wet a washcloth and scrubbed it against his arm. “Well, we know the pressure is working. They know about us. They’re pissed enough to kill us both. So fuck ‘em. They want a fight, they got one.”
“We’re on the run from a federal agency, and hunters, who may or may not be working closely with them, want us dead. And you want to hit them again?”
He shrugged. “They have Kerry. She’s out there somewhere, scared and alone, and no father to soothe her fears. Fuck yes, I’m going to hit them again. And again. And again, until they give her up.”
“Monster with a heart of gold,” Mara’s mouth twisted on the words. “How are you not pissed? Axel betrayed you.”
He shook his head. Wasn’t it obvious? “He did what he needed to protect his family.”
The same as Mara. One couldn’t be right and the other wrong. Damage was done and lives were hurt, but he would do the same if Mara was the one being threatened. He’d kick and yell and fight until the final moment, but if all other options were taken, he’d do whatever it took to keep her alive.
Her face fell, then a scowl replaced the blank expression. She took a savage pull from her bottle, then turned from him. “Stop. Stop thinking you can save me. I’m not worth it. I did terrible things—”
“To keep your family alive. You were forced.” Hudson turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Her words were far too similar to the ones she started spouting right before she told him to forget about her. Too bad, kitty, there’s no pulling us apart now.
“I didn’t have a gun to my head! I roamed free. I twisted words. I made friends and betrayed people. Jacob gets a free pass because he was locked up and trotted out like a hound whenever they wanted to use him.”
“You’re wrong. The barrel might not have pressed against your temple, but it was there the entire time. You learned that with your brother. You might hate yourself now, but how much more would you hate yourself if those kids met a bloody end? Or Kate? They had you by the balls. You were helpless. Admit it, accept the weight of your guilt, and let’s move on. You can’t mope about it for the rest of your life. You have to put yourself back together one piece at a time.”
“What do you know about my guilt?” she hissed.
“You know what happens when you’re a good soldier and they find out you have a furry problem?” He dropped his chin to his chest and kept his eyes on hers. His words were low, dark, almost a growl. He’d been more bear than human in those days. The memories brought back that wildness. “They don’t kill you or discharge you or drag your name through the mud. They shuffle some papers around and reassign you to a special merc force. Off books, of course. Contractor work. Dirty, bloody work. The things I’ve seen... the things I’ve done...”
She didn’t think she could be redeemed? Then what did that mean for him? A life of suffering, and probably an afterlife of it, too.
He couldn’t hold those two thoughts together at once. He knew good existed inside her, knew she’d been forced into heinous acts. She had a shot at a nice life if she could just forgive herself.
For him, if she kept on believing she wasn’t worth any redemption? There was just darkness with the occasional spot of brightness to fool himself into believing he could be normal. He needed her whole.
Right then, there was no room for self-pity. No time to question their lives or the larger questions of the universe. They needed to rest up and ship out. A little girl depended on them to find her and get her home.
“You want to walk out that door and keep beating yourself up over events beyond your control? Fine. I’ll open it for you myself. After we find Kerry.”
She glared at him. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. Not even a full day together, and he’d already pissed off his mate into sullen silence.
And fuck him, but he loved it. She cloaked herself in something other than hatred for herself. The spiky scent of her anger grabbed him by the balls and made him want to stalk closer and see if she’d whip out her claws.
She dropped her glare. A blink, and the standoff was done. “You really think she’s still alive?”
“Axel seemed to think so. A living hostage is better than a dead one. They had no reason to kill her while Axel sat drinking himself to death while waiting for me to return his call.” He passed a hand over his face. “I need you right now. You have information I don’t. So, until we get that girl back, you’re stuck with me.”
Maybe a mission was exactly what she needed. Something had to draw her out of herself. She needed a lifeline to keep her head above the water. She had to keep moving, or she’d drown in the darkness she saw around herself. He’d seen it before. Hell, it’d been ingrained in him to get on his feet and keep movi
ng. She’d been stuck with herself for a year instead of finding her mission.
She picked at the label on her beer and studied her lap. Her mouth opened, then shut, twice, as if she warred with herself for wanting to talk. Her words were almost inaudible when she asked, “What did you do?”
Nope. He wasn’t giving her the chance to back down. She could dig for the answers if she wanted them. It’d give her something to keep picking at.
“I told you. Dirty, bloody work. You don’t have the sole claim on a guilty conscience.”
Chapter 8
Mara couldn’t get comfortable. She twisted under the weight of the admittedly thin comforter and tossed a leg out from under the sheet. Chilled, she pulled her foot back under the oppressive blanket.
The rough sheets weren’t even the cause of her tension. The man sleeping in the bed by the door made her heart pound and mouth dry. The traitorous lioness in her middle urged her to curl up next to him and let his arms wrap around them. His touch would soothe the continued unease that’d been present all damn day and into the night.
She’d never been good at staying still, and she was stuck. Again. Captured by hunters, serving time in Bearden, and now Hudson kept her locked at his side. There was no escape from doing someone else’s bidding, even if the last felt the most right.
He didn’t want her to feel guilt. That heavy weight was the truest part of her life. Because of his association with her, he’d added to that burden. His people were targeted because of her words. A father had his daughter stolen from his arms just to help shut her up. Sure, Hudson was out in the field doing the dirty work, but he’d acted on her information, her leads, her memories.
Kerry was out there, alone, because of her.
Mara didn’t want to imagine the horrors that child faced without comfort. Or what the people back in Bearden were muddling through with Hudson gone.
All around her, others were paying for her actions. It wasn’t right.
Mara turned again and punched a pillow into a slightly fluffier shape. As much as she dressed it up, there was no hiding the uncomfortable flatness.
That was what Hudson tried to do with her. There was no changing her crimes. Displaying them in a new light didn’t change the end result. She’d hurt others. She’d burned homes and businesses. She’d bargained lives.
Hudson stuck by her. Stupid mating instincts.
Her cat growled at her and she ignored the animal. The images that flashed in her head were too painful. They were impossible. Matching mate marks and smiles on their faces? Not happening.
Hudson was a good man. Strong and dependable and honest. Stupid for picking her over literally anyone else in the entire world, but looking as good as he did, he had to have his faults.
He kept going to bat for her and keeping her alive, but his efforts weren’t worth the price he paid. She had blood on her hands, and now his people were suffering, too. As much as her cat wanted the man and her body warmed at his briefest touch, she was toxic.
She needed out of Hudson’s life before she ruined it even more. She didn’t deserve forgiveness and she couldn’t bear to drag him down with her.
He thought Kerry was still alive. That was an idea she could work with. She’d paid attention to where Axel lived. The road signs weren’t all that far from a camp frequently used by Ronnie and her crew. It was small potatoes compared to some of the others, but if she were to hold a child against her will and still keep her within taunting range, it’d be there.
If she could find Kerry and send her back to Bearden, then at least one glaring red mark in her head would be fixed. She’d be free to find a deep hole to crawl into for the rest of her short life and keep Hudson insulated from the disasters that swirled around her.
Decision made, Mara rolled to her feet. No use waiting around. Each step closer to the door was met with a pause to check if Hudson woke. She didn’t dare palm the truck keys or do anything more than dip to the ground to hook her fingers into the heels of her shoes. Her escape needed to be utterly silent.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Mara ran.
Bugs buzzed in the trees and brush all around the property. As far as Mara could see, nothing else moved. The quiet was reassuring. From the tracks she’d found on the dirt road coming into the place, a fight had been held the previous night. Everyone was likely still dead drunk from the customary winner’s celebrations.
She thought of shifting back to her lioness, then discarded the idea. She ran faster on four paws and had built in weapons, but she’d be more likely to avoid detection if she looked human. At least then any hunters wouldn’t shoot her on sight.
Hopefully.
She glanced around the yard. The bleachers around the ring were empty. Two rundown double-wide trailers wanted to fall apart straight across from her. The best looking building in sight wasn’t much more than an extra long, giant shed. The camp wasn’t meant for much more than a quick fight. The big draws and special events were held elsewhere.
But maybe Hudson dismantling other camps and driving Ronnie out of business meant the ring fights were relegated to the small, backwoods productions. Mara hated to think how many tiny towns across the country could hide places of evil. Off the back roads, deep in the woods, far away from the big cities... There was a lot of land that could hide plenty of misdeeds.
She gave it another minute and still, nothing moved. Not even a breeze stirred the leaves concealing her from view.
Mara eased out from her hiding spot and dashed across the yard. She planted her back against the side of the shed. For a brief second, she entertained a flash of missing Hudson. He had training on his side to make him better at infiltration.
He wasn’t there. She only had herself to depend on, just like always. Counting on anyone else was a weakness that could get her killed. She needed to get in, find Kerry, and get out.
Mara edged toward the side of the shed and peeked around the corner. No new scents reached her nose. No sounds pricked her ears.
She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through open lips. In, Kerry, out.
The door opened without any resistance and shut just as quickly. No shouts rose up on the outside. Shoddy guard work.
Both sides of the shed were converted into cages, five on each side. Kenneled dogs had it better. The spaces were cramped and thick bars were lined with barbed wire to discourage those inside from trying to break through. No cots were provided, and a deep stake planted outside the cage tied a chain to the collared creature inside.
Her lioness paced in her mind. Her lips lifted, and she hissed at the metal made to cage and hurt. She wanted to rip and tear into those that thought they could keep her caged.
Mara crept down the line, struggling to keep her animal under control. Most of the collars were hung up on open doors, waiting to be filled by some unfortunate shifter. Three cages at the far end were in use, but none of them held Kerry.
Mara hesitated in reaching for the cage doors. Those inside might not be her friends. Many went feral after long hours of cages with only fights against their own kind to break up the monotony. She’d taken a risk sneaking in already, and the backlash of unleashing a rabid beast could mean the difference between a clean getaway or a fight.
“It’s you!”
The sharp hiss froze Mara in place. The other occupied cages didn’t rustle with movement. No one raised the alarm. Yet.
The woman that snatched her attention crawled forward. She brushed messy hair out of her clear, furious eyes. “I knew it was you. Here to give someone else to these assholes? Do you even remember me?”
Mara felt the blood drain from her face. Hell, it was like every ounce in her head plunged straight to her stomach, then rushed right back to pound in her ears.
Of course she remembered. Jasmine Waldau. She’d moved to the outskirts of Boise after a bad breakup. Only child of parents that passed by the time she turned nineteen, she had no connections to other shifters or anyone that would miss her.
She’d matched the criteria Ronnie laid out for the shifters to be taken.
Mara parted her lips slightly and tasted the air. Easier to sort through the different scents when they were so thick around her. Jasmine didn’t smell crazy. Her eyes weren’t hazy with dead rage. She had a collar of silver around her neck, but she didn’t claw at her or her skin.
“I’m looking for a kid. About six or seven years old. Kerry is her name.”
Jasmine’s anger melted and her lips together pressed in a thin line. “Only kid that was here was taken away three days ago. Most of the ones here were piled into a cattle truck for a fight elsewhere.”
“Do you know where?”
“Like they tell me anything,” Jasmine scoffed.
Mara closed her eyes for a brief second to battle her internal disappointment. She tried and failed. She’d been too late.
And not nearly quiet enough. The other two watched from the doors of their cages.
“You gonna let us out, cat?”
“Come on. You with them, or with us?”
Jasmine arched an eyebrow.
Fuck. She was responsible for putting one of them in the cage. She would kill a part of herself if she left them behind.
Mara eyed the thick, u-shapes locked together by another thick bar. A key was meant to enter one end and pop open. She wrapped her hands around the bottom bar and prepared to tug when someone shouted on the other side of the door.
“Slop time!” The shed door opened, and a man stared at her before fumbling for his gun. “Who the fuck are you?”
Mara ran through her next possible moves in a single beat of her heart. Could she shift before he shot her? She didn’t think she’d make it. Not without a distraction.