Strange Case, an Urban Fantasy (Hyde Book III)

by Stewart, Lauren

  “You not believing me is understandable. But driving around with someone you think is insane…? I thought you’d know better.”

  “Well, this is Texas.”

  He shook his head. “Not getting how that helps.”

  “Doesn’t everyone think we’re born with a gun in our hand?”

  Shit. One of her hands was inside her purse. Didn’t expect that either. “You have a gun on me?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” He paused. “Feel free to shoot me if I attack you. But when that doesn’t happen and after I prove I’m not crazy, I’d like that hand to stay out of your purse.”

  Hopefully Eden had come to her senses and was back at the warehouse but, even if she wasn’t, Hyde would be.

  And if that bastard didn’t convince Danielle that he wasn’t crazy, he’d start wondering if she was.

  Chapter XXII

  After sitting down, Ryan slid a soda towards Eden. “I’m never sure what to get a woman to drink. If a man orders diet, she’ll be offended. If he orders regular, she won’t drink it because it has too many empty calories. So I got you half and half.”

  She looked at the drink warily.

  He laughed. “So distrustful, aren’t you?” He grabbed it, took a long sip, and then grimaced. “It isn’t poisoned—I just hate the taste of diet soda.” He held his cup up in a toast. “Here’s to reaching our goals, by whatever means necessary.”

  “I’m not really in a celebratory mood.”

  “Completely understandable.” He sighed and then ate a french fry. “It’s a lot to take in. But you didn’t think the solution would come easily, did you?”

  “Nothing ever comes easily in my world.”

  “That’s true for most of us. There’s a man who was sent to Florida to clean things up after you and your people…made things messy. Do you know about him?”

  “I heard some things. Not very nice things.”

  He nodded. “My understanding is that he may do other not-very-nice things in Dallas soon.”

  “And he’s where you’re going to start?” She’d listen, get as much information as she could, but she wasn’t even close to signing up for anything.

  “Well…he’s not looking for me, so I thought he’s where you would want to start.”

  I want to start with something that doesn’t involve selling my soul. Distracted, she took a long sip of her drink. Then another before realizing it was really, really bad.

  “This tastes like ass. I’m going to get something else.” Normally she was fine with either diet or regular, but the two didn’t mix well.

  “It was my mistake, I’ll fix it.” He moved to stand.

  “I think I can handle it.” As she stood, she stumbled and had to grab the edge of the table for balance. “What—?” As an awful warmth radiated through her, she dropped the drink onto the floor so she could use both hands to steady herself.

  His image wavered, like heat coming off asphalt on a blistering hot day.

  “What did you do to me?” The question should’ve created a sound, but it didn’t. So she tried again, louder this time. Were her lips even moving? They were numb, as numb as the rest of her body.

  He stood up and calmly wrapped his arms around her waist. And she couldn’t push him away.

  “She’s fine,” he told the customers around them. “It’s just vertigo.”

  Impossible. She’d seen him take a sip. But he was fine. How did he…?

  He leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t ever play poker with me, Eden. I always win.”

  Her legs crumbled underneath her, his arms all that held her up.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he said loudly. “I’ll take you home.” Then he swept her up into his arms, and she didn’t have the power to stop him.

  §§§

  Mitch heard reality before he felt it. Landon saying, “You better not make me regret this by dying, asshole.”

  I’ll try my best, cop. The tunnel out was long and coated in scalpels, but he’d take any exit he could get to.

  “Turner! Mitch, open your eyes.”

  When he peeled his lids apart, he was blinded by a light. Not a big improvement. His eyes adjusted slowly until he saw a piss-cheap wooden roof that matched the piss-cheap floor under him.

  Oh, the beauty. When the horrible light moved, he realized it had been a flashlight. Maybe they’d been interrogating Hyde on the cheap because they couldn’t find any floodlights or water to go with the boards.

  “I don’t wanna seem ungrateful, but that really sucked.” He did some more blinking and a couple of neck stretches. “How long was I out this time?”

  “Three days.”

  “Anything exciting happen?”

  “You could say that.”

  This was going to get old quick. As in, three-days-ago quick. “Where’s Eden?”

  “Someplace she shouldn’t be, doing something she shouldn’t do.”

  “Why didn’t you stop her?” He jerked up and fell right the fuck back down, his brain doing a 360 in his skull, cuffs burrowing their way into his wrists. Again, major suckage here, folks.

  “Have you met her? How am I supposed to stop someone so intent on destroying something that they don’t care if they destroy themselves along the way?”

  Mitch had no idea. But he needed to find out. He hauled himself up to a sitting position as soon as the metal clicked open. As much as he wanted to jump up and go rescue her from whatever trouble she’d gotten herself into, he should probably wait until he could make it more than four feet before collapsing. So he took a moment to wiggle his head, shoulders, knees, and toes.

  “Nice place.” Just like he remembered, only it looked even shittier from the ground. He turned towards the haul-up door and—

  “Who the fuck is she?”

  From the ground outside the truck, the woman looked amazed, watching him as if he were a monkey at a zoo. And sadly, that was a fair comparison.

  “This is Danielle,” Landon said. As if that explained anything.

  “Jesus, cop! I’m out of it for three goddamn days and you start bringing visitors to gawk at me? Did you charge admission, at least?”

  She shook her head slightly, though he didn’t know if it was in answer to his asinine question or in wonder. Then she came a step closer. “How often does this happen?”

  “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 6:30,” he grumbled. “But if I miss a day, I can make it up the following week without any financial penalty. Wanna sign up?”

  “Two minutes in and I’m already regretting giving you the wake-up call.” Landon turned to the woman. “It’s a long story but, as of right now, it’s only when he gets the drug.”

  “And how long does he—?”

  “How ‘bout we stop talking about the freak as if he wasn’t here?” Mitch shouted.

  “Danielle is a researcher…at The Clinic’s facility here in Dallas.”

  Mitch shot out off the ground and was out of the truck before Landon could stop him. Danielle stumbled back a step and then pulled herself into a pride-in-the-face-of-inevitability stance.

  “Boy, am I glad to meet you.” Yep, he’d growled. That had definitely been a growl. At least it was a human one.

  Landon yanked him back by the arm. “She’s not with them. Well, not with that side of them.”

  “Did she tell you that, cop? Because no one who works for them ever lies, so if she used those exact words, then I see no reason not to believe her.”

  “Do you think I’d bring her here if I hadn’t checked her out?”

  “How many of them have we trusted? Right until they fucked us over.” And then, it got even better. All he saw was Converse tennis shoes and a mop of hair, but it was enough to recognize him. “What the hell is the kid doing here? Shit, it’s like I slept through half the party—a whole room of unwanted people. Carry on, folks. Have a great time.”

  “Let me explain, Turner.”

  “Good idea.” Mitch step
ped in close to the cop. Really close. “Why don’t you start with where the fuck Eden is?”

  §§§

  A rush of adrenaline hit, jolting Eden into consciousness. But she didn’t move. Since Ryan hadn’t killed her, she’d keep her eyes closed until she knew what to expect when she opened them. She was lying down on her side, coarse carpeting underneath her, her hands tied behind her with thick synthetic rope, her legs bent and her toes pressed up against something.

  Nice car, but there’s enough trunk space. It definitely hadn’t been designed with the kidnapper-on-the-go in mind.

  “She looks like an angel, doesn’t she? So peaceful.” The voice came from above and belonged to a bastard. Ryan. Poker-playing asshole extraordinaire. She had to give it to him though—he’d completely outplayed her.

  “You gonna keep her as a pet?” a voice Eden didn’t recognize asked.

  “Of course not,” Ryan snapped. “She bites. Wild animals need to stay in cages and be admired through a thick set of bars.”

  “That’s a shame.” Footsteps tapered off as the other speaker walked away.

  “And, Newman,” Ryan called out, “I’ll tell them to expect your call, so keep your phone handy. I’ll see you at the Shop.”

  The Shop? Somehow she didn’t think he was planning on buying her a new wardrobe.

  “Eden,” he whispered. “Are you awake?” He whistled and switched to his normal, hateful volume. “Shit, you are. Already. That’s incredible. Really incredible.”

  She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her. “You’re him.”

  “Possibly. Can you give me another hint?”

  “You’re the dickhead I spoke with on Jolie’s phone and the asshole who told Alex to breed me.”

  “I…” He feigned offense for a moment before a smile crept onto his face. “You got me. It’s nice to finally meet you, Eden Colfax.” Then he laughed. “That was you I spoke with on Jolie’s phone, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure—you two sound equally stupid.”

  “Be as cocky as you want to, Ryan, and enjoy that grin. ‘Cause it isn’t going to last much longer.”

  “Thanks for the warning. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call. You don’t mind if I use your phone, do you?” He slammed the trunk, smothering her in darkness.

  Darkness she could handle, tight spaces too. But assholes thinking they’re in control? No, that was something that just didn’t sit well with her.

  “Eden can’t come to the phone right now.” Ryan’s voice traveled through the walls around her, his tone mockingly sweet. “Is that Turner? Great. Tell him to stop yelling—I want to speak to him.”

  Mitch was awake? Eden rubbed her wrists together, feeling the rough rope dig into her, blood lubricating her skin. So she kept rubbing—it was something her father taught her. The only thing.

  Can’t go with instinct on this one. She had to be patient, deliberate in her actions, smart. So she subdued the desire to yank against the rope, because that wouldn’t work.

  Instinct only makes the rabbit tighten the snare.

  Chapter XXIII

  Mitch watched Landon close his eyes, his cell phone still up to his ear. When the cop had picked it up, he said it was Eden. And then he looked surprised. Then confused. Then pissed. And now…who the fuck knew what that expression meant?

  “Let me talk to her,” Mitch repeated, still trying to swipe the phone out of the cop’s hand.

  Landon shooed him away.

  “Give me the goddamn phone, cop!”

  “You can talk to me,” Landon said to whoever was on the other end. After a few more back and forths, Landon held the phone out, shaking his head. “Ryan Whittley. He wants to talk to you.” Then he mouthed, ‘I think he has her.’

  Mitch had to relax his hand out of a fist before he could take the phone. He was cramped from head to foot. Deep breath in, deep breath— Oh, fuck it. “There needs to be a really good reason why you have her phone, asshole. Or you’ve just run out of minutes.”

  “I didn’t know you were human, Turner,” Whittley said. “Welcome back. And, believe me, I have a great reason. But I can’t talk long, because in another five minutes or so your beautiful girlfriend and I are going to be…busy.”

  Mitch felt his chest rumble with an entirely-human, entirely-territorial sound. “Totally understandable—you seem like a real charmer. So are you calling me to gloat or what?”

  “Well, I’m hoping you can follow directions now that you’re human. I want you and Landon to meet someone I employ. When that happens, I’ll tell your girl to put her clothes back on and leave.”

  “How about you tell my girl to leave now? That way she’ll be home before everything goes dark. And when I say ‘everything’, I mean everything for you, Whittley.”

  The man chuckled. “Don’t worry, I like her. She’s cute and has a terrific body. And she smells incredible. Like…what’s the right word? Like…lust. Yeah, that’s it. She smells like lust. So I don’t plan on hurting her. Of course, plans can always change.”

  Mitch could melt steel right now. “When and where?”

  “His name is Newman and he’ll give you a call. Then— Fuck!” Whittley’s cursing was quickly covered up by what sounded like a tornado. Hopefully a house had just dropped on the wicked witch…who was lying on top of Whittley’s head. Mitch would give everything he had to see that fucker’s legs sticking out from under something heavy.

  What the fuck was happening? He heard a scream—maybe hers, but he wasn’t sure. It could also have been a wild cat, its call was so raw.

  So endless.

  “Eden!” When the phone went dead, Mitch did too. He kept yelling into the empty line, knowing how useless it was but unable to stop himself.

  “Turner,” Landon said softly. “What’s happening?”

  He dialed her number again and again and then shoved the phone at Landon. “It’s not working. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.” It was possible—he couldn’t think, couldn’t function. Not even the automatic shit, like breathing and blinking. He just couldn’t do anything. Because none of those things would help her.

  Landon pressed the screen a few times, and then he stopped trying. “What did he say?”

  Mitch felt his pulse slow, almost stop. Cold. He was so cold. Like a goddamn bear going into hibernation. His limbs were heavy, as if they’d all gone numb.

  Knock it off, asshole. Numb wasn’t going to get her back. He wasn’t hibernating until she could do it with him. Until they were so close together, they could live off each other’s heat. So he shook off the doubt and bounced from side to side like a nutcase—which was completely fitting.

  “He made a few threats. Wanted an exchange—us for her. Then before he could say where, he screamed like a little girl at…at something.”

  “Something like Eden?”

  “Maybe. I hope so, but I don’t know. There was a scream, man. It was...” He looked to his friend, begging him for a solution. “Hostage negotiation protocols. Go.”

  He sighed, shrugging slightly. “We wait until he calls back.”

  “What the fuck, Landon? You have never said anything so fucking useless before! We’re not going to wait until he calls back.”

  “What else can we do?”

  “Why don’t you call the police?” Danielle asked.

  Mitch swung around to face her. “You have no idea what you’re part of now, do you?”

  “We’re all just trying to help, Turner.”

  “Well, we all just need to try harder to think of less idiotic ideas.”

  “Not helping, asshole,” Landon hissed before turning to Danielle. “If we call the police everything comes out. That would be fine if that didn’t also include the Abnormals—Eden, Turner, Justin, and who knows how many others.”

  Be helpful. Mitch nodded, determined to think logically all the way up until thinking was no longer necessary. “If that happens, taking down The Clinic won’t do shit. Because another will pop up in its place and do
exactly the same thing. It’s the nature of the power-hungry—use or be used. And there will never be a deficit of power-hungry people in the world.”

  “The goal is still to bring them to justice,” the cop said. “We just need it to be a quiet kind of justice.”

  “And if that doesn’t work, then we’ll settle for a quiet kind of mayhem.” Mitch took a deep breath, willed his brain to up the RPMs. Because ‘waiting around’ wasn’t going to happen. “So here’s what we’re going to do. We go in, guns quietly blazing and do as much quiet shit-kicking as we can. Since Whittley doesn’t want any attention either, it shouldn’t take much to draw them out.”

  “Whittley’s a businessman,” he continued. “A personality type I know pretty well. So we go to the place where he pretends to do business, and we knock heads until we know where he lives and where he keeps his porn collection. Because if I know nothing else, that guy has an enormous porn collection. Probably the hard stuff—expensive, not off-the-rack, not anything he keeps close enough for someone to find.”

  Mitch finally felt grounded, capable. He knew Whittley because he knew how power-hungry people worked. A full-profile would give them something to work with. It had to. Assholes didn’t just fall out of the sky. They had histories, weaknesses, and habits.

  Mitch kept on thinking out loud, not sure if anyone else had anything to say but not really caring. If it was important enough, they’d make themselves be heard. “He sounded young, so I’m guessing he’s not married—claims he’s married to his work. But he’s cocky, so he probably has a girlfriend—a trophy he keeps on his mantle until she’s needed. They don’t really give a shit about each other, but hate to be alone. Because then they have time to think about what awful people they both are.”

  He shook his head. “Correction. He sounded impotent, don’t you think, cop? If impotency could speak, he’s what it would sound like.” Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. “If dad’s still around, he’s got major issues with him—never feels good enough, needs to prove he’s not the asswipe his dad thinks he is. Even though daddy’s right.