Xavier growled, “She’s not the one.” His boots clapped the ground back and forth and back again. “She wouldn’t have run. She’s not the one.”
Curragh didn’t argue. He knew that she was. Xavier knew it. And arguing otherwise was stupid. So he continued staring at the floor, helpless.
Draik suddenly burst out with, “Hey, what the fuck—what’d you guys think was gonna happen? After what they teach them about us? Of course she’s freaking out. Curragh, get off the floor, you pussy. Get off the fucking floor and go get her!” He looked over at Xavier’s angry stance. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve never been in love so you don’t know. Just wait.”
Curragh looked up at his pale, patched-up friend because it was the first time ever that he’d said something romantic in nature. Normally he was a fuck-‘em-and-leave-‘em kind of wolf. Did he have a soft heart under all that macho bullshit he always spewed?
Draik glared back with a look that said, Well, get up!
Hope pulled at him like a wave at the tide before it crashes, and its force yanked him off the ground. He shook out his shoulders and headed for the bathroom, saying, “If she’s down there, she can’t see. She’s probably stuck, scared, or both.”
Draik followed him next and Xavier hesitated before joining them. He muttered under his breath, “Let’s go find her, then,” but he made it clear he was not sold.
Inside the bathroom, dropping to his knees, Curragh sniffed the tunnel’s entrance. He smelled her scent and it was recent. He jumped to the dirt floor below and headed in, the sound of Xavier jumping down behind him. Draik climbed down the ladder since he had to be more careful, which he no doubt hated.
About twenty steps in, Curragh was about to shout her name, but the word froze in his throat. He sniffed the air. His heart stopped. Throwing up an arm, he spun around. “Smell that?”
With nostrils flaring Xavier arrived. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Catching up, Draik asked, “What is it?” He sniffed the air. “Or who is it? That’s a wolf!”
“I can’t believe this.” Curragh locked eyes with Xavier, who nodded. He’d also recognized the distinctive odor. Wolves can smell each other because it’s coded into their DNA for survival to know when another is around. And this one was familiar.
“He took her,” Curragh snarled. “That fucking turncoat took her!”
Xavier’s mind was racing. You could see it in his eyes. “We definitely would have smelled him, no matter how fucking quiet he was. If he was above ground, he wouldn’t have made it two steps out the bathroom before all three of us would have been on him.” Xavier looked at Curragh with meaning. “She had to come down here first. She was trying to escape you.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that.” He took a few breaths to calm himself. “She loves me. You heard her say it. You said it yourself, she’s my mate. You can’t take it back now, because she freaked. But she would have come back. Or changed her mind. Or…”
“You weren’t thinking that way back there,” Xavier stubbornly muttered.
“That’s because the demons had me! Now you’re one of ‘em. I have enough bullshit running around this head without you being on their side. Are you with me, or aren’t you?”
Xavier stared at him and shrugged. “I’m with you. I’m just not used to this.”
“Well, get used to it.” He turned to Draik. “From the scent and those scuffmarks right there,” he pointed to the ground where there were two sets of footprints and a swooping swirl of matted dirt where a scuffle happened. Then only one set. “That’s where he grabbed her. Maybe he was coming for us. But he took her. And I’m going to tear him apart.” Curragh took off running, his packmates close behind.
Chapter Forty-One
As her captor pushed her onward ahead of him, she tried to think of a way out of this. Why did I run away? Why didn’t I just stay where I was, safe with him? I’m so stupid. I love him, no matter what he is, and now…I might not ever see him again.
Biding her time, she asked him, “How’d you get the boards off?” He didn’t answer, so she added, “These entrances were locked up.”
On a low growl, he ordered her to walk faster.
“But I can’t see anything!” With sarcasm dripping from her tongue, she muttered, “Excuse me if I’m slowing you up.”
“I don’t mind,” he said with another sick smile she could hear. It’s amazing how much you can tell from the tone of someone’s voice. “I like the view.”
She blanched and kept walking, now very aware of how well these jeans hugged her curves. But years of police training hadn’t been forgotten, and she turned to what she knew to help her focus on something other than her fear. Most criminals are pretty fucking stupid, as well as very impressed with themselves. She tried a little flattery to open him up while she looked for a way out. An idea had to come to her somehow. It always did. “I just want to know how you got the boards down without any of the guys hearing you. That’s impressive.”
He was quiet for a second and then huffed a half-chuckle of superiority. “I took my time. Plucked out the rusty nails one by one and then laid them down so slowly they never made a sound.” Then his voice changed to more thoughtful, but was still tinged with self-important amusement. “That was easy. It was how to get one of those wolves, that I didn’t know what to do. But then you came along. Problem solved.” He chuckled again.
Great. Glad I could help.
The darkness made it impossible to perceive an end. It was maddening. But she knew the path they’d taken thus far—there had been two rights, a left and then another right. If she stayed close to the wall and ran her hand along it as she escaped, she might be able to get away, but it would take one hell of a punch to the back of his head. It was more than a long shot.
She had to try, so Kara scuffed her knee on the wall on purpose, and yelped.
“Quiet!”
“I’m sorry,” she hissed. “I can’t see! Why don’t you lead the way, instead of walking behind me? I can’t run away, right? It’s not like I can run faster than you!” More flattery.
He was quiet a few more steps, and Kara thought he wasn’t going to go for it. Finally he mumbled, “Fine.” He shoved her as he walked by. “This way. Grab onto my shirt.”
“Okay.” She grabbed the back of his shirt, and used it as a map to guess where his head was. After a few steps and with all of her strength and police, self-defense training, she punched him. On a surprised grunt, he bent forward. Then she kicked his back so hard he went to the floor and didn’t make a sound. Kara took off running. With her hand on the wall, she reversed the first of the memorized turns and screamed, “Curragh! CURRAGH!!!”
Something grabbed her hair and suddenly she was on the floor again, brought to it so hard that she bruised her tailbone. Glowing grey eyes loomed over her, and he punched her in the face again. “Pray he didn’t hear you.” She heard the next one coming. Then everything disappeared.
Chapter Forty-Two
At the broken passageway entrance, with boards lying around his feet, Curragh held his hand up to stop them. “Shhh.” They froze and listened as echoes of his name bounced toward them from far, far away.
“Come on!” he snarled. Xavier grabbed his arm.
“You know what he’s doing?”
Panting from pain and exertion, Draik filled in the blanks. “He’s taking her as a gift.”
Curragh glared at them. “He is going to die for this.”
“This has pushed us into action before we even have a plan.” Xavier’s face was grim as he looked from one packmate to the other. “Be prepared for anything to happen.”
“I’m ready,” Draik growled.
Curragh cocked a wary eye at his wounded friend. He’d come a long way but was by no means ready. That he was already out of breath showed that.
“Vengeance alone will give me the strength I lack when the moment is right.”
Xavier and Curragh looked at each other with
doubt.
“We have no other choice.”
Draik was impatient now. “That’s right. None. We can’t leave her with Viktor.”
Curragh’s nod was swift. “Let’s go.”
The image of his Kara gifted to that murderous fiend pushed Curragh to run at a speed he’d never known before. He couldn’t shift because if they faced Kruglov and his men, he would need his clothing. He couldn’t walk in there, naked. And he couldn’t walk in as his wolf, on all fours. It’s against werewolf law to betray the secret, and while they’d bent the rules many times over the years, they did so when there was little to no chance of ever being found out. That meant when there was only one or two witnesses, people the authorities would never believe if they told. But with Kruglov there would undoubtedly be many humans present and therefore they could not risk it.
Fire coursed through him as he raced. With his nostrils alight, he followed the trail of her scent. He could smell her fear. Even her blood. But the scent of sex? It wasn’t there. It wasn’t too late. Pushing himself, he sped onward. He did not try to quiet his approach, nor did his packmates. If they could catch up to the bastard before he got to Kruglov…
On the ground, two sets of footprints again became one. He stopped and pointed to them as Xavier caught up. “This is when she stopped screaming. He’s carrying her.”
“Which means he’s slower.”
“No. Her walking made him slow,” Curragh growled. “Now he’s able to move at full speed.” They took off with Draik nodding to them as he rounded a bend. That nod meant he wouldn’t be far behind.
He snarled in their dust, “Go!”
Chapter Forty-Three
The shadows faded and black dirt turned to tan—the first sign of light. Open just a crack was a door in the tunnel like you’d find on a house. Curragh burst through it, flinging himself into a hallway that was remarkably clean save for one set of dirt-footprints. Curragh took note. They indicated the wolf had paused, uncertain. Has he never been here? Or he wasn’t expected to return? Why the circling? Why else would he wait? Unless he’d needed to adjust Kara. The very idea set his blood boiling.
There were three doors on his right. Nothing tunnel-side but bare, spotless, beige wall. Each door was closed, so he stopped to listen, chest heaving with fury. He heard voices just as Xavier arrived. He motioned for him to wait until the right moment. Curragh was going to go in first, and now. He might have a split second to surprise them before he alerted them to their arrival. With one kick Curragh crashed through.
Inside a beautifully furnished room, lying on a blue, velvet sofa to the side lie Kara with her eyes closed and face badly bruised. There was a small cut on her cheek, but the clothing she wore yesterday was intact. Best of all, she was alive.
Standing a few feet away was the wolf Howard Peters had trusted from his childhood. Tahl’s eyes were wild. Things weren’t going as he’d planned. Three large, human males who looked like they were on steroids and had been for some time held his arms behind him. Apart from them, an older man, almost frail, gasped and turned around to say with an odd cadence, “There are more of them?!!”
The men holding Tahl didn’t know how to react at first. It took all of their strength to hold him, and there were no others to help them. The elderly man clearly could not, and they knew it. Curragh leapt at him and clocked him hard as one of the three brutes yelled, “ALEXANDER!”
At the infamous name, Xavier burst into the room. The three men shouted and released Tahl to save their boss. Xavier took on two of them. As Curragh attacked the ill-reputed Alexander Kruglov, punching him several times, he whirled around to punch one of the guards out cold. Then he saw Tahl, free now, go for Kara. He roared and came at him. But Tahl had been close to her, and he beat him. Xavier knocked out the last guy and turned around, ready to help. All the humans but Alexander were unconscious, and he was groaning and still on the floor, no longer an immediate threat.
Grabbing her fragile, unconscious head by the chin with one hand, Tahl’s eyes were crazy as he spat, “I’ll break her neck if you come any closer!”
“You won’t walk out of here alive,” Curragh snarled.
“I’ll do it!” Tahl yelled. “Back off, fucker.”
His attention was sideswiped as Draik burst, naked, into the room. Shifting and snarling into a white wolf mid-run, Draik leapt onto the wall beside him. Surprised, Tahl released Kara to jump out of the way of the snapping fangs. That brought him closer to Curragh who punched him so hard he flew back and dented the wall. Tahl crumbled to the ground there, only down for a second before he leapt up. Draik crushed him down again, standing on him with all fours, snarling inches from his face, golden eyes glowing.
Grabbing Kara to safety, Curragh cradled her gently in his arms and growled, “Kill him.”
But Draik didn’t move.
“You know we can’t,” Xavier said, under his breath.
Curragh’s jaw ticked as he glared at his packmate and closest friend. He knew the rules. They aren’t allowed to kill other werewolves. It’s the law. You may not like how another wolf chooses to live, or a pack for that matter, but freedom to choose the life you want is every wolf’s right. Some, like Curragh and his boys, are good. But some are bad, and some are worse—they kill and eat people, give a bad name to them all. Luckily those keep to themselves, living in rural areas where there’s less chance of them being hunted. They’re the ones who’ve inspired the lore, and the horror films.
But you aren’t allowed to take them out, nor they, you.
And everyone lives by this law.
Everyone. It’s one of the ways the rare species has managed to survive all these centuries, and everybody respected it.
Right now Curragh wanted any way around it. “I’m allowed to maim him if he hurts my mate.”
“Hurts her like really hurts her. Not a couple punches to the face.” Xavier was careful with this correction, his tone cautious and unaggressive, but it didn’t make the true words any easier to hear. He pointed to the old man. “That him, Draik? That Alexander?”
Draik looked over, and shifted back to human form. He then delivered a series of swift punches to Tahl until the traitorous wolf passed out. “We can’t kill him, but I can do THAT.” He stood up, buck-ass naked and walked over to Xavier, staring down. “I don’t recognize that guy. He’s old. And Alexander wouldn’t whimper like that.” The human was doing just that, swollen eyes peering up at them.
“Please, please!!!” he cried. “Don’t hurt me!”
“What the fuck?” Xavier stared at the guy.
Motioning to the guards to inform Draik, Curragh said, “They called him Alexander.”
Draik glanced over and his eyes went dark and narrow. Several of his cuts were open and bleeding now, the shift having reopened them. He itched at one and walked closer to inspect the men. “They were there. The guys who did this to me.”
Just then Kara’s eyes opened, pained and blurry. “Ouch,” she moaned.
Curragh tightened his hold and stepped away. “She’s awake. Hold on a second. We’ll find out who Alexander is.” To her, he gently said, “Hey. You’re safe.”
Her forehead scrunched up as she became aware of him. Like he could read her mind, he saw the memories return of what she’d been through, and of what she’d done. Tears claimed her as she slipped limp arms around his neck. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s on me. I didn’t handle it right.” He kissed the side of her cheek. The rest of her face was buried in his chest. “You’re safe. Don’t cry.”
“I’m trying not to!” she breathed through little gasps, struggling for control. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.
Draik couldn’t wait anymore. “These guys were there. There were seven of them. One they called Alexander, but he wasn’t that guy. What the fuck?!” Furious, he looked around. “Give me that!” He went to where a gun lay on the ground.
Kara started to look over but Curragh pushe
d her face back into his chest to hide her eyes. She made a pained noise. “Oh, sorry. I forgot about your face. But hang on, baby. Draik! Go put your clothes back on!”
Draik, gun in hand, looked torn as to what to do first.
“NOW,” Curragh shouted.
With her voice muffled by his shirt, Kara asked, “Why are his clothes off?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Draik headed out of the room with an irritated look.
“If they wake up before I get back…” he warned.
Xavier smirked. “Pretty sure you won’t take long.” He turned back to the old man and lost the smile. “WHO ARE YOU?”
The human spit blood from his thin lips and a tooth came out with it. He gaped at it lying there on the pristine hardwood floor, and answered on a rasp, “Alexander! I’m Alexander.”
Shooting an odd look to Curragh, Xavier muttered, “He can’t be the man we’ve heard about.”
Curragh agreed with a short nod. The man was grossly under-impressive for the reputation he had of being the baddest motherfucker around. So what was going on?
Xavier had called it right. Draik was back in a flash, looking uncomfortable as all hell, pulling at the fabric like he wished it was off. Kara glanced over just as Draik pointed the gun at the old man. “I don’t know who that guy is, but he’s not Kruglov’s father.” Then he pointed the gun at the unconscious guards and shot them one after the other so loud and fast that everyone flinched. Kara’s eyes went large, but she said nothing.
Gravely they watched their packmate walk to the old man. He kneeled down and got real close. “You weren’t there when they did this. And they kept saying your name, so if you’re Alexander then I’m Oprah Winfrey. Now, who the fuck are you?!!”
“Until we have an answer, don’t shoot him,” Xavier muttered.
“I know that!” Draik grumbled, then leaned down and went really, really still as he repeated with danger in his voice, “Who the fuck are you, old man?”
Werewolves of Chicago: Curragh (Werewolves of... Book 6) Page 15