“I’ve got the prize, boyo. You lose. I win.”
“Who is this?” Dorran’s heart leaped in his throat. “What are you talking about?”
“You lose, Mr. O’Hare. I have your little slut. She’s a fine piece of ass too. I may have a sample before I put her on the auction block. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Fuck!”
“Yes, you two did. I admire your stamina, Mr. O’Hare. But then a hybrid has a treasure trove of talents, doesn’t he?”
“Meagan! You son-of-a-bitch.”
“Well, perhaps. Still, I am looking forward to her performance as a guest of mine. Thank you for the preview. I’ll see you soon. Don’t be late.”
With that, the phone went dead. Dorran skidded to a stop in the ditch. Someone had clamped a vice over his chest. Before he blacked out, he tore out in the dirt and barreled down the pavement. He was almost to the farm house. Surely, she was. For fuck sake, let her be there.
Up ahead in the lights, he saw something red. The damnable fog was unrelenting, but he could make out a blinking red light. Leaving the bike in the dirt, he raced around the truck to the driver’s door. Nothing. His vision kicking in, he traced a path around the vehicle to the opposite side. There had been an accident. Something had crashed into Meagan’s truck. Two sets of prints were visible in the soft earth. Unable to keep the wavy lines out of his eyes, Dorran whirled around, searching for any sign of Meagan. The bastard took her! Someone yelled her name – was it him? All he understood was the truck was empty – the Sultan had taken all the intel and his woman. No amount of suffering was too much for this shadow walker. He’d pay for this with his miserable existence.
Chapter 22
“I’ve got to go in undercover. That’s the only way to find out where he’s got her.” Fear, cold and hard lodged inside Dorran’s chest. The thought of what the Sultan may have already done to Meagan iced his bones and welded him to the spot.
J.T. paced back and forth without words. They had gathered to work out a rescue op after Dorran’s call for help.
Duke glared at Dorran from his location in the massive leather chair. “She wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you. Hell yeah, you’re going after her.” He kicked out at the solid side of the desk in frustration. “The only thing wrong with your plan is – you’re not leaving without us.” Wagging his finger between J.T. and Dorran, he snarled under his breath.
Dorran understood. He’d screwed up royally.
J.T. cut a hard eye Dorran’s way.
Not mistaking the crease between J.T.’s eyes for anything but derision, Dorran tried again. “You know I love her, right?” He raked an unsteady hand through his already tousled hair and leaned his palms on the cool surface of the office desk in front of him. “It was like the council said, I was to find the one – the witch who could look into the future and find those he stole.” His fist came down on the desk with a loud thud. “I thought Meagan was the one. I fucked the whole thing up.”
Duke huffed out a sharp breath. “You sure as hell did.” Pushing to his feet, he crossed the short space and shoved hard at Dorran’s shoulder. “When we find her, and she’s safe at home, I’m going to cheerfully pound you into hamburger meat.” He paced away. “She’s a witch for Christ sake, not the Chosen One. How did you come to that conclusion bonehead?”
Seeing the anger anchored deep in Duke’s eyes, Dorran ground down on his back molars. This wasn’t time to launch a defensive attack. “You can kill me if you like, I’m dead already. Right now, we have to find her.”
“But where?” J.T.’s question held doubt.
“She shared something with me the other night that may help. Mrs. Abernathy, you know the woman in Sally, the dog? She told her things. Maybe she knows where they’re taking her.”
“Do what?” Duke asked.
“Look, I know this gets weird, but I thought you guys were used to freakin’ weird.” Dorran took a deep breath and tried again. “The woman named Mrs. Abernathy, who was trapped inside one of the dogs.” He glanced at each of them. Before they could speak, he shoved past them. “Never mind, I’ll find out myself. Mrs. Abernathy?” One the front lawn, Dorran searched the yard for the dog named Sally.
“Dorran, what’s wrong?”
Wheeling, he spotted Mrs. Abernathy bounding toward him. Thank the gods. “Mrs. Abernathy, can you remember where they are keeping the women after they leave the bodies of the dogs?”
The shaggy haired collie cocked her head. “Of course. They are taking them to a warehouse along the river. Mid-Eastern Holding Company is the name on the building.”
If a dog could appear sad, Mrs. Abernathy did. “Please find her, Dorran. I fear she doesn’t have much time.”
Standing behind Dorran, Duke began to shake his head. “This is too much. The banks of the river are thick with warehouses. It could take us all night to locate the right one because you can book it, it’s not on any GPS.”
“Look, hear me out.” Dorran’s anxiety was mounting. “Meagan knew what she was telling me was loony. She understood that but she swore the woman, Mrs. Abernathy told her all she knew about the Sultan and the trafficking.” He glanced at them once more. At least neither had called him a liar or started laughing. “You know I want to find her as much as you do, maybe more. I’m going to the shelter to question Carl and Sue.”
“Wait, what about Aubrie?” Duke said thoughtfully. “She may be able to hear something, a leftover vibe or some residual clue that will help.”
“Perhaps, I may be of some assistance.” The British accent came from a body materializing beside them. Pilot stood composed and surreal in his dapper tweed suit from the mid-nineteenth century. A stove-pipe felt hat sat atop his gray hair, and he sported a daisy in his lapel.
J.T. dropped onto the bench under the oak in the yard. “This ought to be good.”
The sign that Pilot heard him was a not-so-subtle sniff. “I’ve been working on perfecting my empath skills of late. Aubrie was most helpful in teaching me how to really listen to those around me.” He sneezed into a linen handkerchief before continuing, “Excuse me, pesky allergies. I think I can be your interrogation interpreter if you like.”
Duke started to laugh and grabbed his middle. “You can’t be serious. What, you’re Sergeant Friday now? This is beyond ridiculous. J.T., tell him.”
Pilot’s brow arched – a perfect sign the shadow walker wasn’t amused.
J.T. said nothing. Examining Pilot carefully, he slowly nodded his head. “You’ll do. Let’s get to the shelter. You’re with me.”
Chapter 23
The tracker hidden inside the talisman that Dorran had given Meagan beeped. Glaring at the screen, he locked the coordinates showing on his phone. A victory! Weighing in on the fact the Sultan wanted him to come, he had to go and fast. No two ways about it, Meagan wouldn’t last a day in the hands of the evil one.
His years as a Navy SEAL had driven home the directive. Never leave a man behind. This was no different, except he had feelings for her, feelings he shouldn’t be having. Duke had made that fact abundantly clear in their little meeting earlier. As far as Duke thought, he wasn’t good enough for Meagan. Maybe it was the fact Duke felt responsible for her, or maybe it was more. Maybe it was Dorran’s problem. The fact he was damaged goods with a violent track record would be an eventual road block to a long-term relationship. A tough guy with no roots, save his Harley and knapsack weren’t any help. The truth for him was he didn’t know or care. Meagan did it for him. He loved her. At the very least, he needed her like his next breath. The mission to rescue Meagan was the only thing driving him now. The Elders could kiss his ass. He needed her – period.
“You got a location on that beacon?” J.T.’s question broke the trance.
“Huh? Yeah, copy that.” Dorran swiped at the perspiration gathering over his forehead. “We’re getting close. Looks like a warehouse on the docks.”
“Now, if we can get her and get out without stirring
up World War III, I’ll be fuckin’ happy.” J.T. hadn’t said much since discovering Meagan was gone. The pressure did that to a man or vampire.
From the back of the van they’d borrowed from Gus, Duke called out. “You better be right about this place. She’s been gone for almost twelve hours. The Sultan could have dumped her on a ship headed east by now. If she makes it to Africa, we’ll never find her.”
Headlights met them in their lane up ahead. “What’s this fool doing?” J.T. growled under his breath. “Duke, hand me my duffle. The grenades are in the inside pouch.”
Dorran laid them in J.T.’s open palm.
Glancing sideways at Dorran, he winked. “Ready for some fireworks, Irishman?”
“Roger that. Give me the fireball, Duke.” Rolling down the van’s window, Dorran swallowed, blanking his mind of all else except tossing the explosive device as J.T. swerved hard to the right. Automatic fire sprayed the van as they veered clear of the oncoming chicken contestant.
Duke returned fire, managing to clip a tire as they escaped. “This is no random car-jacking guys. The Sultan’s onto us. Let’s move.”
Flooring the aged recreational cruiser, J.T. put some distance between them. “They’ll follow as soon as they get rubber under them again. We need to haul ass.”
Ugh, guys, they aren’t stopping. Guess tires aren’t high on their list of assets this year. Get ready!”
“Incoming,” Dorran yelled up front as a bomb landed near the back door of the van. “Close, but no cigar.” Maneuvering close to the window, he returned fire, and when they’d cleared the boomer, he shot a round into the bomb. The van lifted off the pavement and tittered on two wheels before rolling down a steep embankment. “Good riddance,” he breathed.
“Uh, guys. More company. Three o’clock.” J.T. swerved hard to the left.
Trying to cut them off didn’t work. Dorran slid through the open window again and fired off two rounds at the sedan. Dark in color, he swore under his breath. “He’d seen that car before near the shelter and recently parked out front of Katie’s pharmacy. The bastard was ballsy, he had to give it to him. “Hey Duke, can you get a bead on this guy? He’s coming around.”
“Roger that.” Duke aimed at the black sedan speeding up on the van’s driver side.
Thank goodness for armored plating and bullet proof glass, Dorran thought as a hail of bullets hit the van’s side panel. One more second and he would be within range. Narrowing his view, he zeroed in on the guy behind the wheel. The split second it took to recognize the tattooed biker fool was enough time for the car to careen into the front fender, sending J.T. into a fit of curses as he struggled to hold the van in the road. Dorran fell hard against the sliding door before the next swerve sent him out the door. The best thing about being supernatural was the lack of time it took to react. Milliseconds past and he latched onto the door and was safe inside the van again. “I’m going after them.”
“No, you’re not.” Duke gripped his shoulder in a vice. “I can work better alone.”
J.T. grunted from the front seat, “You’re not going anywhere. We need the tracking chip’s coordinates. Cool your jets. This is all going down as soon as we locate Meagan’s location.”
“We don’t have time to play chase with these fools. I know that guy driving the car. I beat the shit out of him the other night at a roadhouse. She doesn’t need any more strikes against her because of me.”
Duke squeezed his shoulder then. “Meagan is gifted, and as long as she uses her gifts, we’ll get there soon enough. J.T.’s right. We can’t split up and take the chance of running into his goons without backup. Agreed?”
Dorran’s jaw tightened over the idea of her alone even if she used her powers. He was supposed to protect her, and he always completed his job. Shoving at the memory of seven down because of him, he growled and cursed under his breath. Yanking free of Duke, he dropped into the shotgun seat up front, his heart pounding in his ears.
Near the docks, the fog returned, rolling in like waves off the water. The docks around the river were a cesspool of seedy dives and expectant lowlifes all viable because of one purpose – greed. As long as the criminal element didn’t bleed over into Cheniere Station, the cops didn’t venture down there. Life was too short.
Dorran scanned his phone, watching carefully as the small red blip on the screen grew closer and closer. When they were a block away, he sat up. “Here. Stop here.”
J.T. slowed and pulled to the curb. Studying the street, he then glanced at Dorran. “She’s close, isn’t she?”
“A block due east. He’s there as well. I can feel it in my blood. The nagging burn at the base of his skull was back. Grabbing the knapsack with his gear in it, he suited up. “We need to cover the exits. The Sultan’s going to try and escape. Live to fight another day and all that B.S.”
As they neared the location the tracker led them to, J.T. held back. “Just a minute.” Staring hard at Dorran, he waited. “You gotta promise me something, bro, no matter how this goes down, you gotta remember you’re not responsible for the outcome. This is Meagan’s battle, not yours. Understood?”
Dorran glared hard at his friend and bud. “You have got to be kidding, right?”
“We’re wasting time,” he growled. “Come on, we can argue about whose circus this is later. Meagan needs us. Pony up you two.”
The lights were on inside the warehouse. Dorran skirted the monster of a metal door with care. He scented the foul odor the Sultan. Waring with the notion he should advance, he counted down the minutes until the others would be in place and ready.
“This one is secure.” J.T.’s vague reference to the south entrance came through loud and clear.
Finally, Duke’s voice came through the receiver. “Secure.”
Dorran sucked in a breath. Time to barge in. Closing his eyes, he willed his memories to retreat. Everything would go as planned. She’d be safe.
***
Meagan fingered the syringe filled with sodium phenethyl and tried not to breath. The footfalls coming toward them were heavy. The guy must be a bruiser. The plan was to catch him off-guard and dose him. The guard would have no other choice but to tell them everything he knew about the Sultan’s plans.
“He’s coming. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” came the hissed reply from the women around the room.
If this little plan of theirs worked, Meagan would have her hands full getting all these women out. A spell was certainly in order.
The clanging of keys signaled the guard’s arrival. “Dinner,” he shouted. As the door creaked open, no one moved which was according to the rules. Sitting the trays down carefully, the guard glanced at the prisoners.
“Is that our dinner?” Nicole asked.
“Yeah, what the hell do you think it is?”
The room erupted. Screams, snarls, nails, and hair pulling among the twelve.
With lighting speed, Meagan leaped on the burly guy’s back, jabbing the needle in his neck.
“What tha…” His last words were garbled as he crumbled to the floor.
“You did it!” Sunny beamed from her cot.
Meagan glanced up as she searched his pockets. “Here, help me roll him over.” The girl nearest the guard shoved in unison with Meagan. “There,” she breathed. They were under him. “Unlock yourself and the others.”
The big guy on the floor resembled a bear. No time to wonder if she was doing the right thing, she smacked him across the cheek. “Hey, wake up. I need some answers.”
No response.
Meagan slapped him harder.
Still no response.
“Well, crap.”
Sunny shoved something under her nose. “See if this helps.”
A potent smell made her eyes water. Starring at the vile in her hand, Meagan smiled back at the blonde. Who said blonds were dumb? “Good girl!” The medical grade ammonia did the trick. “He’s coming around. Back up.”
“Ugh. What the…” the bea
r wheezed out the words.
“Where’s the Sultan?” Meagan didn’t waste time. “Tell me where the Sultan’s at, now.”
“Up front. He’s waiting on me up front.”
Meagan cut warning eyes at Sunny. “Use the chains. Secure him and get out. Get as far away from this place as possible. You got that?”
“Got it, but what about you?”
“Never mind about me. I’ve got a job to do. Just do as I say and get the hell out of here.”
Scrambling to her feet, Meagan checked her bra for the rest of the syringes. Still there. She moved fast, faster than humanly possible. The idea of magic flited through her head. This witch thing was cool. Powers, she would need an arsenal against the evil one. Rather than show up in the middle of the front office, she materialized in the hall leading to the warehouse. With no lights there, darkness enveloped her as she slowed her breathing. Meagan closed her eyes and left her body as she went outside the building. Her senses were on high alert at the beings near the entrances. They were friendlies she decided before reentering the building. Rather than slide back into her physical skin, she traveled freely about the space looking for him.
The Sultan wasn’t there. Or, at least, not within her powers sight. Suddenly, a cold chill gripped her. Within the blink of an eye, he emerged from the dark hallway dragging her earthly body with him.
“Looking for me?”
Shoving at the blast of terror craving to take hold of her mind, Meagan focused on returning his threat with one of her own. “So good of you to join me. Makes my job so much easier.” Grinding down on the fear, she sauntered around the room as the phantom spirit she had become. No home to go back to as long as he was clutching her mortal skin in his grizzly hands.
His eyes darted around the room, sensing but not yet able to track her movements. “I was hoping you would come quietly. This is the only earthly body you have, correct?”
Agitation warred with the superior need for control. Funny how Meagan could feel as alive as if she floated in mid-air? “You have nowhere to run, Sultan. It’s you who needs to come quietly. I’ll make sure you are safely put away for good.”
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