Savage Loss (Corona Pride Book 2)

by Liza Street

  He waited for Mateo’s response. Shook his head, because Mateo always took forever with texts.

  Finally a message came through. I don’t know. I wish I knew what the hell was wrong with you.

  Rafe wished he knew, too.

  Six

  Darkness. Cold. Someone mumbling. They sounded afraid. Brigitte put her hand out, but she couldn’t see it in front of her. “It’s okay,” she murmured, trying to comfort the scared person. “We’re okay.”

  Meaningless. She had no idea if they were okay or not. She moved her hand again, and it hit something hard. Metal? She reached out, wrapped her hand around it. A bar. Next to it, another. She was in a cage?

  The bar moved, a creak of rusty hinges. A hand gripped her arm, and she could feel the coldness of it through her jacket.

  Pain, in the side of her throat. The pain quickly turned to bliss, then back to pain. A strange mix that overwhelmed her.

  The pain stopped. The bliss stopped.

  Brigitte slept.

  *

  The next time Brigitte opened her eyes, she could see. Just a tiny bit. It was still so dim in the room that only vague shapes were visible. She could see one important thing, though: her cage was open.

  She leaned out.

  “And on the third day, she rose,” a high-pitched voice said, giggling.

  “What?” Brigitte said, her voice quiet and raw. “Who’s there?”

  The giggling continued.

  Brigitte struggled to get out of the cage. Her legs didn’t want to work properly, but she finally managed to shuffle forward and pretzel her way out. There were other cages in the room—three of them—and all three were open and empty.

  Had she been set free? Was it a trick of some kind?

  “Go on,” the high-pitched voice said. “Move along.”

  She held her hands out in front of her, as if to ward off the pain. Pain? Why did she expect pain? She touched her neck. The skin was fine, but she knew, she knew she’d been hurt there.

  The person—man? Woman?—giggled again. No time to take stock of any injuries. Brigitte needed to escape.

  To her right, she saw a door. She stepped through it, breath held, her heart drumming out a timeless rhythm of fear. Now she was in a long hallway full of doors. Everything was awash in a strange, yellowish glow. There was no one here, but she heard voices coming from…somewhere. They floated up, as if from beneath her.

  Was this a dream? Was she hallucinating?

  “We can’t keep her—they’ll suspect,” a high female voice said.

  The other voice was lower, and it could have belonged to a man or a woman. “They can’t find us if we have her.”

  “We took her from town. You promised us no more from Belnedge.”

  “I was thirsty.”

  Thirsty? This wasn’t making sense. A wave of nausea overtook Brigitte and she leaned against the wall, gasping. She felt too weak to move, but she needed to get out of here.

  While she caught her breath and tried to muster up new strength, the conversation below her continued. “Well, now we have to keep her,” the first voice said. Changing her mind?

  “Too late—I let her go,” the lower voice said. “Jack’s making sure she gets out with the others.”

  Brigitte glanced down the hall. If there were others, they must already be outside.

  “Inconvenient,” the first voice said. “Well, I suppose we can always get her again.”

  Again? No. Brigitte didn’t ever want to be a part of this nightmare, or whatever it was, again. As quietly as possible, she inched down the hallway, toward a brighter area.

  Candlelight, that’s what it was. It explained the strange yellowish quality washing over the walls.

  The candles were spaced throughout a large room, some kind of entryway into the house. Red patterned wallpaper covered the walls. Brigitte caught sight of movement in front of her. She would have screamed, but her throat was too dry. She ducked, and the thing ducked with her. The creature had bright red hair, falling in wild ringlets around its pale face.

  The creature was her. Her pale, wan face. Her wild, tangled hair. She was staring into a mirror.

  The realization only filled her with more horror. No longer able to keep her steps quiet, she began to run toward a large door. Her feet pounded on an old rug. A red rug. Something that could hide bloodstains.

  Why was she thinking these horrible thoughts?

  She wrenched open the door and fell over a body.

  Screaming, she jumped away. Two men stood on a porch next to her, staring at the body of a woman. “We couldn’t get her up,” one of them said. “But we can’t leave her.”

  “No, we can’t,” Brigitte said, her voice a whisper-croak. “One of you take one of her arms, I’ll get the other. We’ll take turns carrying her.”

  “Is she…is she even alive?” one of the men said.

  Brigitte touched the woman’s cool skin. “Yes. Barely.”

  “Do you know where we are?” the man asked. “Which direction should we go?”

  “No idea.” Brigitte looked around. They were out in the forest somewhere, but which way to town? There was no way of knowing. “Anywhere’s better than here, though.”

  As she walked away, carrying half the weight of the unconscious woman, the house was already fading from her memories. Her panic-clouded mind could think of only one goal: get back to town to find help.

  Seven

  The Corona Mountains Rescue leader, Candy, spoke over the intercom. Her voice echoed in the empty lounge area of the rescue headquarters. “Rafe, c’mere. We got a call.”

  Rafe hurried upstairs, feeling puzzled. Usually Candy would immediately send everyone out to respond to a call, but this time she hadn’t. He hoped Candy would tell him that Brigitte had been found, because earlier in the day, someone had reported Brigitte’s car pulled over on a seldom-used road.

  When he reached the office, he saw Candy bent over the switchboard, headphones in hand. Her short brown hair was ruffled up on top of her head like she’d been worried about something.

  “Yeah, boss, what’s up?” Rafe asked.

  “I can’t tell if this one’s a prank or not. Will you listen to the recording?”

  Each call was recorded, in case something happened and they needed more information, or if a legal issue came up. Rafe took the headphones from Candy and put them on.

  Candy’s voice came on first. ‘Corona Mountains Rescue, how can we help?’

  ‘Yes.’ The voice was high-pitched, with a southern twang. ‘I saw some people wandering in the woods. Injured.’

  ‘Injured?’ Candy’s voice said. ‘How?’

  ‘They looked weak.’

  ‘Where did you see them?’

  ‘Near about the Buckle Belt trail, close to Mary Lake.’

  ‘Are you still with them? Did they ask for help?’

  There was a pause in the recording.

  Candy’s voice again. ‘Hello? Are you there?’

  The recording ended, and Rafe met Candy’s eyes. “I have no idea if that’s legit or not, but you know we gotta check it out.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said. “I’ll sound the alarm and contact the proper authorities, you brief the team. You know as much as I do.”

  Rafe actually suspected a lot more than he felt comfortable saying here. If that call wasn’t a prank, and he really didn’t think it was, then this was probably the work of vampires. They’d struck a few weeks ago, kidnapping their victims and releasing them again after three days. Mostly from the Belnedge area. Rafe hadn’t thought it was vampires this time, because as far as he knew, the Corona Pride had killed the entire group. But now…the evidence was too strong to ignore.

  A soft tone sounded throughout the headquarters, and soon three of Rafe’s coworkers rushed downstairs. Rafe told them about the call. “It sounds a little like the disappearances that happened a few weeks ago, so I think all we’ll be doing is retrieving some confused and weak people who h
ave no memory of what happened to them. But as always, bring all the gear just in case.”

  Rafe climbed into the rescue truck. Clark, a tall, lanky woman, was the driver. The other two CMR rescuers followed in a van that had been outfitted with two stretchers, but once Rafe ascertained what the story was with the people in the woods, they could also call an ambulance if necessary.

  In his pack were a few extra bottles of water. If these people had been taken by vampires, they’d be suffering blood loss that wouldn’t be readily apparent to the emergency workers who helped them. The vampires didn’t leave marks on their victims.

  Brigitte was in this group, he knew it. The timeline was right—about three days—and he really hadn’t believed she’d disappear without warning. Successful, polished professional like her. It hadn’t made sense.

  This, however horrible, made sense.

  Rafe texted the pride’s alpha, Marlana, while Clark drove. En route to a rescue. I think the vamps are back.

  He put his phone away and looked over at Clark. “Think you can drive a little faster?”

  “Dude,” she said. “I live for speed. Hang onto your chaps, cowboy.”

  I’ll be there soon, Brigitte, Rafe thought. Don’t be scared. I’ll help you.

  In a few minutes, Clark was parking the truck at the trail head to Mary Lake. This was nowhere near the vampires’ last hideout, which made sense, as Rafe’s pride had torched that cave. Rafe jumped out of the truck, shouldering his pack. In addition to extra water bottles, it was full of medical supplies and other items like rope, harnesses, blankets, and flares.

  The van pulled up behind them, and everyone else got out. “We’ll split up,” Clark said. “Rob and Jenna, you take the south side, and Rafe and I will take the north side. Radio in if you see anyone.”

  The other two nodded, and Rafe and Clark started forward. He moved faster than usual—fast enough to get Clark panting quickly, but not so fast that he would reveal his supernatural speed. He knew Brigitte was out here somewhere, but he couldn’t risk the secrecy of his people to find her more quickly.

  If only Clark had gone with the others and let Rafe search alone, it would have been so much easier.

  Because he couldn’t move as fast as he wanted, he used his sensitive hearing. There was the sharp, clear sound of a mountain bluebird chirping nearby, and the breeze swishing through the Douglas firs. If he listened carefully, he could hear the buzzing of insects. Beneath it all, footsteps.

  He stopped suddenly, and Clark almost plowed into him. “What is it?” she asked.

  At first he wasn’t sure if the footsteps belonged to Rob and Jenna, but now that he’d stopped to listen, he could tell they came from a different direction. “I’ve got a gut feeling,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know all about your gut feelings,” Clark said. “Let’s go where your gut leads.”

  He’d gotten a bit of a reputation at the CMR because he could find people when none of the other rescuers could. He had an unfair advantage, so he never bragged about his success rate. The upside was that the others had learned to trust him when he urged a search party in a certain direction.

  Clark seemed so clumsy compared to him, so he tried to hold back. But when he saw the four people stumbling across the forest floor, he couldn’t hold back anymore. “There they are!” he shouted. “Radio the others!”

  He raced forward. Bright red hair, a pale, exhausted face. Brigitte. She was working with a man to carry another woman, while a second man straggled behind them. They looked up and their shoulders sagged with relief.

  “Oh, praise God,” the first man exclaimed, falling to the ground.

  His fall caused all of the limp woman’s weight to burden Brigitte, but she didn’t drop her. Instead, she took another step forward, as if determined to put more distance between them and whatever had held her captive.

  Smart woman.

  Eight

  Each step that Brigitte took sent pain through the arch of her left foot. Early on, she’d lost one of her pumps.

  Then later, her foot met a sharp rock.

  And now, pain.

  She didn’t know the name of the woman she helped carry, but Brigitte murmured assurances to her as they walked. She told the woman that they were going to make it, that someone would find them soon, and she invoked the kinds of healing blessings her grandmother used to say over Brigitte whenever she’d been ill as a child.

  One of the men was too weak to help, so the task of carrying the woman had fallen on Brigitte and the other man for the past few hours.

  When she heard the shout in the distance, she nearly fell to the ground in relief. They’d been found! They were safe.

  But could they ever be truly safe? Brigitte wondered how she’d sleep again, after the horror of what she’d been through. And yet, if someone were to ask her for details, she didn’t know what she’d be able to say.

  She knew it had been awful…but she couldn’t remember it.

  A man and woman charged toward her, carrying heavy packs. The man reached for Brigitte. Already he had a bottle of water in his hand. He opened it and thrust it at her. “Drink this,” he said. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”

  “Take care of…who?” Brigitte asked.

  The man gestured at the space next to Brigitte. Oh, right. The other woman. The weight of her burden was lifted, and Brigitte felt almost as if she were floating.

  “Please, Brigitte,” the man said. “Drink some water.”

  Brigitte blinked at him. How did he know her name? “Who are you?”

  “I know you from the school,” he said, touching her shoulder gently. “Please take a sip of water.”

  She lifted the bottle to her lips, drank, and coughed. More rescue workers surrounded her and the others. The unconscious woman was strapped onto a stretcher and rushed up the hillside, likely to a waiting ambulance.

  Everything was clear now, but so bright and so loud that Brigitte wanted to cover her ears and eyes.

  She felt like she had after Lance died—like the world wasn’t real. The difference was that this time she felt a little more anchored. The trauma had happened to her, after all, and she wasn’t grieving. Just confused and disoriented. She would climb out of this, exactly like she’d climbed out of the last one.

  “You look familiar,” Brigitte said to the man. He hadn’t left her side, despite the bustle of activity surrounding them.

  “I’m Rafe. Penny’s brother. We met a few days ago.” He smiled in a self-deprecating way, and Brigitte struggled to remember when they met. “I tried to ask you out,” he added.

  She was starting to remember. She’d interrupted him, answered no before he could finish. That was rude of her. Besides, she should have said yes. Wanting to make up for it, she said, “You have beautiful eyes. They’re like dark chocolate, almost black.”

  His smile grew. “You have a bit of a poet in you.”

  “Was my Nanny Mae. She was the poet. She’d say your handsome voice could coax flowers from the ground.”

  “Would she?” That voice of his lilted with a chuckle, then turned serious. “Brigitte, we’re short on stretchers. I’m going to carry you, all right?”

  “Carry…me…?”

  “Yes. Have some more water.” Rafe gestured at the bottle in her hands.

  She looked down, surprised to see it there. “Oh. Right.”

  She drank some, and he took the bottle back, screwed on the cap.

  “Up we go,” he said.

  His arms were strong underneath her and he lifted her like an infant. After having carried someone else for so long, Brigitte had to admit it felt pretty great to be the person carried.

  He hiked with her like that up the trail, and he wasn’t even panting from the exertion. Brigitte snuggled against his chest. When she opened her eyes, she had a close-up view of his throat and jaw. Faint stubble decorated his chin. She’d always liked stubble on a guy. Lance’s and Marcellus’s chins and cheeks had felt so manly w
hen they rubbed against her skin, along her breasts and between her thighs.

  Brigitte reached up and touched this man’s cheek. “I like being carried by you. I might want to kiss you.”

  He looked down at her with gentle eyes. “You’re gonna be just fine, Brigitte. Just fine. When this is over, we’re going to get to know each other better.”

  “Like a date?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded and paused his brisk hiking to look down at her. “Like a date.”

  Brigitte closed her eyes, and let herself sleep.

  Nine

  At Marlana’s estate, Rafe slammed his hand against the side of his Pathfinder. Called back to Marlana’s, when all he’d wanted to do was haunt Alpine Street and make sure Brigitte was safe. Then again, it was probably better for him to be here, because he could see his obsession with Brigitte was looking stalker-ish.

  “What’s wrong with me?” he muttered.

  “Let’s see,” a masculine voice said from the darkness. “You’re miserable. You’re obsessed with a woman. You’re ignoring your friends. You’re angry pretty much always.”

  “Shut up, Mateo,” Rafe said.

  His brother stepped out from the shadows, naked.

  “You just shift?” Rafe asked.

  “Perimeter check,” Mateo explained. “Marlana’s orders.”

  Rafe reached into the back of the Pathfinder and found a spare pair of sweats. He tossed them at Mateo.

  “Look,” Mateo said while he pulled on the pants, “I know I’m the pain in the ass big brother and you’d probably rather suffer in ignorance, but I think you found your mate.”

  Rafe shook his head. “I used to think so, but she didn’t want anything to do with me when I tried asking her out.”

  She hadn’t been so standoffish earlier today, when he’d carried her out of the woods. Then again, she’d been half-delirious with blood loss and fatigue. He couldn’t say she’d consented to anything, not even his clumsy promise of a date, in that condition.

  “Maybe she’s holding back for some reason,” Mateo said. “Or maybe I’m wrong. Hell if I know. But you’re not going to feel better until you figure it out.”

  Rafe felt like a bunch of knives were stuck in his gut. When he’d carried Brigitte up to the trail head, ambulances had already been waiting, and he’d had to surrender her to the EMTs. But they couldn’t care for her as much as he cared. He hadn’t wanted to let her go.