Twin Wolf Trouble (Shifter Squad Six 2)

by Anya Nowlan

  “I’ll try to work out the comms and see if there’s any way to stop this thing. You go see what else is going down on this Thomas the fucking tank engine, okay?” Thatch said, already dropping on his knees and tearing the panel out that hid the wires to the radio.

  They read each other’s minds well enough for Thatch to know that if he was thinking it, Tex was already on the same wavelength, doing it.

  “Lock and load,” Tex said, grinning like Christmas came early.

  Thatch smirked at his little brother - by a few minutes as he liked to remind Thatch - blazed out of the engine train. Nothing like a bit of world saving to round out a wedding.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Madeline

  “Stay calm, Maddy. It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong. Just a couple of commandos running around on this train,” she told herself out loud, trying to concentrate on drawing a breath every now and then instead of sinking into full-fledged panic.

  Panicking sounded like such an easier option, though.

  She’d uncurled her legs from the seat and put the book away. Keeping an eye on the entrance to her room, she ran through every manner of possible outcomes in her head. The smoke wasn’t as thick back there, but peeking forward she could see that it was almost definitely coming from the engine. And that was bad.

  The fact that no one had said a word on the intercom also didn’t put her mind at ease. To add insult to injury, she was sure that the train was picking up speed ever since she heard the first loud bangs that got Tex and Thatch rolling out like they’d just gotten the call for Afghanistan.

  Chewing her lower lip, Madeline got up and closer to the window that looked into the hallway. It was barren of life. She couldn’t see a single person. Granted, she was pretty close to the back of the train, where the sleeping cars were located, but even on the sleepy Sunset Limited she was used to seeing a little bit more movement.

  I shouldn’t go anywhere. I should stay here. I should not get in the middle of whatever the fuck is going on, right?

  It sounded perfectly reasonable. She knew it was reasonable. But still, she wanted to go and be at least somewhat useful instead of huddling away in the back, hoping that the storm would pass her by. And even more than that, she would appreciate knowing if the world was crashing down around her and at least give herself a chance to make peace with it.

  You’re getting real melodramatic, Madeline, she chided herself, wrapping her hands around herself.

  Telling herself that everything would be fine and the two men she’d been having such a loaded conversation with weren’t terrorists hell-bent on bringing the train off the tracks was all well and good, until another explosion rocked the train. This time, it felt like it was right behind her.

  “Shit,” Madeline gasped, grabbing her jacket and her bag.

  She pulled on the jacket, secured her leather backpack over her shoulders, and jumped to the door. With things going south as fast as they were, she had no intention of just sitting around and waiting for the inevitable to conk her over the head.

  Carefully, she slid the door open and looked both ways, almost expecting to see some guys in all-black tackle her for doing that. But there was no one in the hallway and she was all alone. Madeline wasn’t sure whether that was good news or the absolute worst possible situation she could be in.

  Stepping out, she quietly slipped the door closed behind her. Why she was taking so much care to remain silent she wasn’t sure, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. She practically ran to the other end of the passenger car, empty as it was, and when she got to the door her heart sank. The damn thing wouldn’t open.

  Slamming her fist against it a few times, she choked down tears of panic and looked for a way to pry it open, but it felt like it was locked tight. Maybe someone had passed by her room and hadn’t noticed her in there because of the darkness the smoke kept casting over the windows, dimming out the light? And maybe she hadn’t seen them?

  Madeline was stuck, and that made bile rise in her throat.

  “Okay, focus. What would the commandos do?” she asked herself in a mutter, her gray eyes glancing around at the empty hallway and the rooms to either side of it.

  They definitely wouldn’t lose their cool. Taking a deep breath, Madeline forced some sense into herself. Another big gulp and she could sort of feel her arms and legs again, instead of feeling like just a head floating around and talking to herself.

  The commandos would also have big guns and training and a general sense of direction better than yours, a snide little voice commented in the back of her head, making Madeline groan inwardly.

  It was all true, sure, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hear it. She was thoroughly fucked. But if she was in fact stuck in the middle of some mysterious train drama then she might as well… do something? Maybe she wasn’t the only one stuck in the back. Maybe there were people in the sleeping cars who couldn’t get out either? Okay, that was something she could do. Safety in numbers and all that.

  Squaring her shoulders, Madeline marched forward through the car, this time looking to either side more carefully to be sure no one else was huddled in the adjoining sitting rooms. She couldn’t find anyone, and when she made it to the other door leading to the first sleeping car, she found that it was only jammed. Putting her shoulder against it and giving it a hard push made it slip open, though she figured it wouldn’t have been quite so easy if she’d been trying to do it from the other side.

  For a moment, she wondered if the same thing had happened to the other door she’d tried, but she thought it had held together much tighter. Mentally shrugging, she stalked forward, now checking the sleeping quarters by knocking on every door. No one came out. The carpet underneath her feet made her steps shuffle and muffled the knocks a bit, the length of the car not as hollow and soulless as that of the sitting car.

  She made it to the end again and then continued from there, finding the door wide open. Moving forward methodically, she became more and more nervous for better or for worse when no one appeared.

  There has to be someone else back here too, she thought, chewing on her lower lip with her hand curled tightly around the strap of her bag. It can’t be just me.

  Madeline was seconds from turning around, deciding to see if she had any luck with that damn jammed door again, when a hint of conversation somewhere farther on caught her ear. Frowning, she snuck forward, suddenly even more mindful of her steps, trying her best to be unseen and unheard. Every inch she crept forward, the voices became clearer. Decidedly masculine, constantly undercut by a loud, whirring noise she couldn’t quite place. Her hand was on the handle that would open the door of the last sleeping compartment and lead into the areas usually restricted to passengers, but she hesitated for a moment, listening.

  “Come on, we need to move faster!” someone hissed, his voice tight and aggravated.

  “We’re going as fucking fast as we can,” another man replied, obviously sour and annoyed.

  Madeline’s hand shook as she kept it on the handle, trying to make sense of what was going on. Was someone behind there, stuck like she was? Or was she stumbling into something she shouldn’t? Before she could make up her mind on whether or not to open the door, it swung open in front of her and she came face to face with a tall, stern figure clad in black. He looked at her and a wry grin tugged at his lips, like a big cat finding a mouse to play around with.

  “Looks like we have visitors,” the man said in a soft snarl.

  Fight or flight kicked in full force and Madeline jumped back, surprising her new and unexpected acquaintance with her speed. Adrenaline made a body do weird things. Behind him, Madeline could see the rotor of a helicopter spinning with dizzying speed, kicking up dirt as it tried to stay next to the train. Two other men, dressed in equally nondescript garb, were tossing packages from the train to the chopper, another person catching them and stacking them behind him. The packages were oblong, no bigger than a loaf of bread, and the men were hauling the
m out of a big wooden crate that had been busted open.

  Sickeningly, she could see the unconscious, or maybe dead bodies of three US Marines slumped against the wall of the compartment. One of them had his throat cut, blood marring the front of his jacket and his head lolled back at an unnatural angle.

  Dead.

  It was the only thing that pounded through her head as she whipped around in panic, ready to bolt down the corridor. But a hand closed around her arm like a vise and she was pulled back, flying against the wooden framing of a wall leading into a sleeping car. A burst of pain traveled through her, so disorienting and painful she thought she would throw up. Nothing crawled up her throat but a scream, and then her body was being dragged backward with a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Shut up, honey. You wanted to come and play, so come and fucking play,” the man hissed.

  Looking up, she could see his brilliant blue eyes flash gold for a moment, his features contorted just a little as the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. The breath was kicked right out of her chest as he moved them back into the compartment with the Marines, the two other men barely looking at her. But she could see their faces clearly, even when her attacker slammed her against the wall so hard that she thought she would pass out.

  All tall, wide-shouldered, athletic. With cold, dead eyes and no masks, like they either didn’t care about being seen or were certain they would take out anyone who saw them. The box that was busted open had a sign reading “US Navy, Ammunitions” and a string of letters and numbers on them that Madeline couldn’t decipher.

  She crumpled to the ground, drawing her knees up to her chest reflexively as the man hovered above her, staring down at her with that unflinching smirk.

  “Just fucking shoot her,” the man who’d been annoyed before said, tossing her a glance. “Don’t want to keep anyone around for this shit.”

  “They’re all going to die anyway when the train goes off the rails,” the third man said, his voice bored, indifferent.

  Madeline’s mind couldn’t wrap around the concept of sounding so damn blasé about killing a number of people, no matter what they were trying to hide. One look at the Marines told her that these guys didn’t give a shit. Not about human life, not about anything. And she’d walked in on them at the worst possible time.

  “This is the last one,” the grouchy one said, tossing his package over to the guy on the helicopter and getting a thumbs up from his opposite on the chopper. “Come on, Devs, we got to go.”

  The man standing over Madeline as she was struggling to breathe, Devs, smirked even wider before drawing his gun from his hip, cocking it easily. The thick black tendrils of smoke coming from the front of the train were seeping into the car now, with the side door of the cargo hauler opened and Madeline huddled against the opposite door. She blinked away tears, desperately searching for a way out, for a way to live. Her hands were balled into fists, rattling right along with the rough ride of the train speeding across the terrain.

  “Aw, guess we don’t get to play. A pity,” Devs said, as his partners jumped across from the train to the helicopter, being pulled in like they were just another piece of cargo.

  “Devs, fucking move!” the grouchy one hollered, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the blades whipping through the air.

  “Fucking hell, Duke. Unbunch your motherfucking panties. I’ll be right there,” he hissed over his shoulder, his gun trained on her head.

  He turned back and Madeline knew he was about to say something. But she never heard the next vile thing he wanted to call out. Instead, she was immediately showered in blood and bits of tissue as his head exploded like a pumpkin hitting the ground. His body stood upright for one gut-wrenching moment, as if contemplating whether or not it had really lost a head, before collapsing to the side.

  Madeline’s eyes were wide as saucers and the world seemed to stand still for a second. Her body was as if frozen in time, but when she saw the men in the chopper, so close to the train car and still clearly visible through the open door, adrenaline took over. She tossed herself to the side when they lined up their guns, aiming at her now that Devs had fallen to the floor, gushing blood.

  As she scrambled to hide in the blind corner to the left of the open door, she could see the broad, powerful figure of Tex pounding down the corridor, his assault rifle drawn, his face contorted in rage. Before he could come in range of the helicopter, the chopper peeled up and back in time to avoid a narrow collision with a tunnel. Suddenly, the light was sucked out of the compartment and Madeline could only see the little red light blinking on the top of the rifle. It didn’t seem to slow Tex down one bit, though.

  He came right to her, kneeling down in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, shaking her out of her stupor.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Madeline, talk to me.”

  His words were calm, like the sea before a storm. The light flickered back as they made it out of the tunnel and Madeline could once again see him, his handsome face so close to her, his green eyes shining with worry and something else she couldn’t quite place.

  “I’m okay. But, they’re all… dead,” she stuttered, stunned, looking around at the four dead men she was sharing a compartment with.

  “Don’t worry about them. One problem at a time, okay? Let’s get out of here,” he said, flashing a grin like this was great fun and nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

  When his eyes flickered a deep, amber kind of gold for a second, Madeline thought she was plunging straight into hell. A second later, she passed out, soft darkness blissfully claiming her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tex

  “Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens!” Tex cheerfully called, putting his rifle down mid-cleaning and getting up.

  Fuck, I’m sore. Need to talk to the lieutenant about upping those damn resistance classes again, he thought, stretching his legs as he stalked over to the bed that housed their most prized possession.

  “You want something, Miss? Something for the headache, a brown paper bag to heave into, a strong shoulder to cry on?” Thatch called from the kitchen area of the apartment they were currently occupying, which was one-room with an open kitchen-living room-bedroom.

  It was the best they could do on short notice. Even The Firm didn’t keep that many safe houses in fucking Arizona of all places! Tex grinned at his brother, the kettle going off at the right time and giving him a second alone with Madeline. He knelt next to the couch she was curled up on and instinctively brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Touching her was damn near electric and he felt a straight buzz go through him.

  She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, the small shot of medication they’d given her after she’d stirred the first time, kicking and screaming, having apparently worked wonders. Thatch had insisted on checking with Grant before they administered her anything, even though both Tex and his brother had gotten extensively trained on most simple procedures and common medical equipment and drugs for their field work. But that was the kind of guy Thatch was—careful to a fault. A polar opposite of Tex in many ways.

  “Hey, sugar. How was the sleep? Did you dream of me?” he asked, grinning.

  Shit, she’s gorgeous.

  And it wasn’t just the adrenaline talking, or the fact that he’d watch her almost take a bullet and still keep her head on her shoulders. Madeline was no pushover, and with those legs, eyes, and body, hell, Tex would have bought anything she sold. By the glances Thatch kept sneaking at them, his brother seemed to share that sentiment.

  “Where are we?” she asked, sitting up on the couch sharply and then wincing, grabbing her head. “And why do I feel like a truck ran over me?”

  “We’re in Arizona. That’s all you get to know, sorry. And we had to sedate you a little. Whoa now, calm down!” Tex called, catching her mid-leap as she was trying to make it off the couch like a tiger throwing herself across a chasm.

  He threw her back on the couch as gently as he
could and then stood up, raising his hands apologetically.

  “Madeline, listen to me. We’re the good guys. You’re safe. I can’t tell you anything about where you are for your own benefit. The less you know the better, okay?”

  His lips thinned in worry as he heard Thatch close in on them from behind, holding two cups of steaming hot chocolate. They exchanged a look amongst one another, that good old twin telepathy getting them on the same wavelength pretty easily. Mission objectives: calm down the smoking-hot redhead by any means necessary. Lock and load.

  “You drugged me, you took me to an undisclosed location and you won’t let me leave! I don’t know if you sound like good guys to me! I saw you shoot a guy for God’s sake!” Madeline mewled, her lovely voice breaking a little in the first throes of hysteria.

  It had started out much the same the first time she came to, but then they’d had the unfortunate additional problem of being stuck in an armored vehicle The Firm had sent to the scene. They couldn’t exactly spend a lot of time calming her down when they needed to put as much distance between themselves and the train as possible, so the sedative had been the only option. By the looks of her now, she at least didn’t remember that little tidbit. Though he could definitely still feel the way her tight, curvy body had squirmed against his chest as Thatch administered the shot, whispering comforting words in her ear as he did so.

  Tex found the two hot chocolate mugs unceremoniously shoved in his hands as Thatch kneeled down so he could be eye-level with her. Tex hid the eye-roll. Thatch and his smooth talking. He could talk their way out of the final reckoning if he had to.

  “Madeline, look at me. Look at me,” Thatch said, taking her hands in his and holding them just firmly enough so she couldn’t yank them away. When she looked at Thatch, Tex could see that there were tears in her eyes. His grip on the mugs tightened. “I know this looks bad, but you have to trust us. You were very brave. You walked in on some very dangerous men doing horrible things, and you kept your head when under pressure.”