All four scents were fresh and strong, offering proof positive that the coyotes were indeed holed up inside the ramshackle cabin. They carried easily on the stiff breeze, making him hope the troops on the upwind side of the cabin had taken the scent-dampening precautions the sheriff recommended seriously. No one wanted to give away the element of surprise. Now that the presence of the targets had been confirmed, they just had to go in and drag the fuckers out.
He felt Zeke shift again, felt the sudden rise in tension overtake his friend, and knew this was it. The time had come.
Now.
Zeke gave the order, sweeping his hand forward and releasing the members of his team like the surge of a tide. Mick bounded from cover, soaring over the log and eating up the distance to the target with long, galloping strides. The wind seemed to surge with him, carrying him forward and whipping through his fur with primal energy.
The attack began in eerie silence. No one howled or roared or wasted breath on warning the enemy they were coming. They simply moved forward, fast and quiet and deadly.
Mick didn’t waste time looking around, but he could still sense the rest of their force converging on the cabin. He caught glimpses of bears and wolves and big cats of all kinds joining the attack while the team leaders in their human forms made use of weapons other than tooth and nail. Two of them moved into position and hurled flashbang grenades through the windows, shattering glass and formally announcing their presence.
Immediately, the cabin door swung open and a disheveled and disoriented shifter appeared, hands raised in a sign of surrender. Mick skidded to a halt at the base of the steps and wondered what the fuck was going on. A second man followed on his heels, this one looking less confused and more smug.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” the second one said, his scent and appearance identifying him as Tommy Molina. He had to shout to be heard over the commotion of the attack and the steadily increasing wind. “We’ve been expecting you, wolf. You and your friends.”
Mick shifted back to human, stretching to his full height and stalking slowly toward the coyotes. “Send out Hilliard,” he snarled, lips curling to bare gleaming fangs. “He’s who I came for. Tell him to face me like a man.”
His wolf whined, urging him to shift again or, better yet, to assume his wereform. After all, this was a battle, and he intended to win it.
“We’d love to, but I’m afraid Geoffrey’s not at home right now.” Tommy grinned. “May I take a message?”
Mick cursed and leapt up the steps, shoving the coyotes aside and forcing his way inside the cabin. His gaze swept around the single room and landed on the sofa in the small living area. On it, two life-size mannequins had been dressed in the clothes of Geoffrey Hilliard and Will Molina and propped up in conversational style.
His heart dropped to his stomach and he spun back toward the door.
Renny.
Fuck. The coyote bastard had taken a page out of their book and set up his own decoy operation. While the Alpha Sheriff’s Department had deployed its forces on the supposed coyote hideout, Geoffrey Hilliard was nowhere to be found.
Double fuck.
His mate was in danger.
Renny gave up trying to relax about three seconds after Mick walked out the door that evening. Yeah, playing it casual just wasn’t going to happen. Until her mate came back safe and sound, she was just going to have to live with an unbearable sense of trepidation. Woohoo.
She tried pacing, reading, watching television, yoga, and deep breathing exercises, but nothing managed to keep her mind off of her worry for more than a minute at a time. It was enough to drive a wolf crazy.
The worsening weather wasn’t helping things, either. Her tension rose as the barometer dropped. The restlessness many shifters felt during a coming storm only increased her tension, giving her yet another variable to worry about. Would the storm just bring wind, the way the forecasters had predicted? Or would her mate and the others find themselves trapped out in heavy rains, or even one of the area’s rare thunderstorms? Geoffrey and his minions were dangerous enough; she didn’t need to add the possibility of lightning strikes to her list of irrational fears.
“Ma’am, I’ve told you not to worry.” Renny turned to scowl at the junior deputy who had pulled babysitting duty during the most exciting operation his department had launched in years. He was trying to be a good sport about it, but it didn’t take a mind reader to see he really, really wished he were in on the action instead. “Everything is going to go like clockwork. I’ve never seen a team more prepared.”
Obviously, the kid had never heard about Landry’s Law. He didn’t seem to have checked the weather forecast, either. “Deputy, what did I tell you earlier about calling me ma’am?”
“Sorry, m—er, I mean, miss.” Deputy Draper turned pink once more. She was starting to think it had something to do with her.
“Forget it.” Renny waved a hand and resumed pacing. This was her third bout of it, and Mick hadn’t been gone even an hour. The operation wasn’t due to start for another twenty minutes. She’d be ready for a padded room by then. “I’m a little cranky this evening.”
“I understand, but you really shouldn’t be. Sheriff Lahern has this planned out to the last detail. Nothing bad is going to happen to your mate. Mr. Fischer will be just fine.”
Good Goddess, but this cub was making her feel old with all the “ma’ams” and “misses” and “misters.” What was he, five years younger than her? He couldn’t be much beyond that. What age did you have to be to go to police academy, anyway?
She decided to ignore him.
It had been Mick’s idea to station him inside with her in the first place. She had insisted that she was fine with having him stay outside and patrol around the house and yard the way the guards had been doing before now, but her mate had disagreed. Strongly. If he’d had his way, there would have been more guards doing the outdoor patrol thing as well, but Sheriff Lahern had preferred to use his manpower resources to take on Geoffrey and his pals with an overwhelming show of force. One deputy with solid training, a reliable sidearm, and a good eye would have no trouble protecting a single she-wolf. After hearing that scouts had confirmed all four coyotes had been sighted in the cabin and would remain under constant surveillance until go time, Mick had reluctantly agreed.
She supposed, given the turn the weather was taking, it was rude to wish she’d won that argument. She might feel a lot less itchy if she didn’t have someone staring at her while she did her nervous twitching.
When all this was over, she and Mick were really going to have to work on this overprotective streak of his. She’d like to be able to get some time to herself in the future, maybe even shower alone from time to time.
Well, okay. She’d like that once in a while, anyway.
Deputy Draper cleared his throat until she looked in his direction. “Uh, is there anything I can do to help make this evening less stressful for you, Ms. Landry? I’d be happy to try and distract you. You play poker?”
Oh, she’d like to play poker, all right, but her version of the game didn’t involve playing cards. It had more to do with her taking the iron implement usually reserved for stirring the fire logs and bashing it over his annoying head.
Whoa, Nelly, her inner voice chided. And Renny. Get a grip, girlfriend. The kid hasn’t done anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve blunt-force head trauma. He’s just trying to do his job.
But his job should be joining the group of men and women protecting her mate, Renny thought. If everyone was so damned sure that Geoff and the boys were in that damned cabin, why did anyone need to stay behind with her?
Renny struggled to muster up a smile. “No, thanks, Deputy. I’m fine.”
He looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”
Her fangs threatened to erupt. She fought them back. “Positive.”
And back to pacing.
Things went on like that for another fifteen minutes, while the wind began to howl around t
he edges of the house. Finally, Renny just stopped in front of the fireplace and watched the second hand of the mantel clock tick slowly toward six P.M. For an instant, she thought she saw the damned thing move backward.
Draper rose from his armchair and joined her in front of the hearth. “They’ll be moving in right about now. Just a few more minutes, and I’m sure the phone will ring to let us know everything went off without a hitch. Trust me.”
Trust had nothing to do with it, or rather not the way he meant. The problem with this whole scenario was that Geoffrey was the one she didn’t trust.
A particularly wicked gust of wind rattled the windows, making Renny jump. She turned instinctively in that direction, only to gasp as the sound of cracking wood ripped through the air.
“What was that?”
Draper looked toward the front of the house and frowned. “Sounded like a branch coming down to me. Right out next to the driveway, from the ruckus.” He pointed toward the sofa. “Sit there. I’m just going to take a look out the window. We need to make sure nothing is blocking our road access in case of emergency.”
Right. Like Renny had plans to go anywhere until her mate got home. She huffed to herself. You couldn’t get her to step foot out the door with a bulldozer, not until Mick returned safe and sound.
She watched through the doorway as Draper stepped into the front hall and approached the glass. He twitched back the curtains to peer out into the twilight dimness, then appeared to jerk. She heard a sharp tinkling sound and saw a crack in the windowpane even as he folded into a boneless heap on the floor. The front of his shirt looked suddenly darker.
It took a second to process the information. When the metallic scent of blood hit her, she knew. Draper had been shot. Someone had fired through the front window.
Another echoing crack sounded, this one much louder and more forceful than the presumed falling branch. Renny jumped to her feet as she heard the thump of the front door banging into the wall. Someone had just broken it down.
She had enough time to blink before the alarm sounded, but not enough time to run. Her feet remained stubbornly planted on the floor as a menacing figure filled the doorway.
Geoffrey Hilliard smiled at her. “Hello, Renny, my sweet.”
Chapter Eighteen
Renny tried to run, but it was already too late. Geoffrey sprang forward, pouncing on her before she made it around the coffee table. He knocked her to the floor, slamming her cheek on the corner of the wooden board on the way down. She felt the sting of the impact and a trickle of blood on her skin. Damn, that was going to leave a mark.
Her head spun with temporary dizziness, then ached violently when he grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her knees.
“You should never have run from me, Renny,” he snarled in her ear. “I could have been so much nicer to you.”
“Fuck off and die,” she hissed, clawing at his hand, trying to loosen his grip. He responded by backhanding her across the formerly uninjured side of her face.
“How about I just fuck you, and you just die afterward?”
Heavy booted feet stomped into the foyer. “Time to go, boss.” Renny recognized Will’s distinctive voice immediately. It always managed to carry an edge of mania, in spite of the deep timbre. “Cops were out the door the minute that alarm sounded. We gotta move before they manage to cut us off.”
She glanced up and saw the crazy coyote framed in the doorway, his clothing woodland camouflage and his favorite rifle clutched in one hand. Of course. If anyone could have shot Draper from a distance through a reflective surface, it was Will Molina. The shifter was even deadlier with a gun than he was with fangs and claws.
“Fine,” Geoffrey snapped, “but you’re driving. I’ve been waiting too long to put this little reunion off another minute.”
Renny fought like a wildcat, or rather like a cornered she-wolf. She dug her heels into the floor and abandoned her clawing attacks at Geoffrey’s grip on her hair in favor of simply attacking him. She twisted and slammed a fist into his side, low and sneaky over his kidney. He howled and responded by throwing her to the floor. Immediately his weight came down on top of her, pinning her in place.
“Give me that rope,” he barked. “I don’t have time for this shit.”
She heard Will grunt, then the sound of something exchanging hands. She bucked fiercely, trying to throw Geoffrey off of her, but he dug his knee into her spine until she shrieked at the pain.
Curses spat from her lips, but two against one weren’t even odds, and the pair of coyotes overpowered her. Two sets of hands grabbed her wrists and ankles, yanking them together into a brutal improvised hog-tie.
She screamed her frustration and cursed herself for not shifting faster. She might have managed it while Geoffrey had her pinned, but if she tried now with arms and ankles tied behind her back, she’d end up dislocating both hips and shoulders in the attempt. That wouldn’t exactly leave her in fighting shape. She felt certain it was why her captors had chosen this particular tie.
Renny might have been restrained, but she wasn’t gagged, and she screamed at the top of her lungs while she was hauled off the floor and carted outside to a waiting van. The coyotes tossed her in the back, Geoffrey climbing in beside her while Will slipped behind the wheel and stowed his rifle against the passenger seat.
“Hold on,” he warned his employer. “I want to get as much distance as I can between us and these crazy shifters before they pick up our trail. Plus, I want to get to the highway ASAP. The roads out here suck.”
“Whatever. Just drive,” Geoffrey snarled, and reached for her shirt.
Zeke managed to catch up with Mick just before he reached the rendezvous point where the teams had left their vehicles. The lion had to dig claws into his shoulder to stop him, because he wasn’t wearing any clothes to grab on to. He hadn’t wasted the time or energy for another shift before he took off after his mate. He’d run through the damned woods naked, and he’d do the same down the streets of Seattle if it would help him save his mate.
The pain didn’t stop Mick, so Zeke exerted enough force to spin him around. “Wait a fucking minute!” the lion snarled. “You can’t—”
“Back the fuck off, cat! My mate is in danger. That coyote’s already got her. I can sense it.”
“Not arguing.” Zeke wrenched open the door of a burly SUV emblazoned with the sheriff’s seal. “Just let me drive. I don’t trust you behind the wheel right now. Besides, there were two coyotes missing from the cabin. You might need backup.”
“Exactly.” Linus Russu climbed into the vehicle behind Mick and slapped the back of his seat. “So, let’s get moving already. We’ve got fifteen miles to cover and a woman to rescue.”
Zeke slammed down the gas pedal and took off in a shower of gravel. The rear end skidded a little during the sharp turn onto the logging road that would take them back to the highway, but the tires quickly found their grip.
The police scanner chirped and a voice came over the loudspeaker.
“All available units, please respond. Code three alert. OOS not responding. Alarm triggered at high-priority location at on Dry Creek Road. Possible 41–40. Proceed immediately.”
Mick had the only house on Dry Creek Road, and there was only one reason he could think of for the alarm to go off while the officer on scene was not responding. He braced his hands on the dashboard, feeling his claws gouging holes into the vinyl.
Zeke cursed and flipped on the lights and sirens. He sent the truck flying across the rough terrain, barely bothering to slow down when they hit the pavement. In fact, he sped up.
“Don’t worry,” he said, mouth grim and eyes focused on the road. “We’ll find her.”
Mick didn’t bother to reply. He couldn’t. His mouth was too misshapen and he realized he had unconsciously shifted into his wereform in the front seat of the SUV. Apparently, his wolf thought he needed to be ready for war.
Linus leaned forward. “We won’t find her at that hous
e. The coyote would be an idiot not to grab her and run like the devil’s on his heels.”
“Great deduction, Sherlock. You want to tell me which pedal makes this thing go faster now?”
The tiger ignored the sarcasm. “You said he’s from California, right? He headed for his den as soon as he got her. He’ll want to get back to his own territory where he feels safe and in control.”
“No shit. Do you see me heading west? Sunset was behind us. I’ll be able to pick up 97 in another four miles.”
“No, head straight south. Cut over to 903 as soon as you can. We want to pick up 90 before they get too far ahead of us.”
Zeke jerked and shot the tiger a dubious glance. “Ninety-seven would take them more directly south. That’s the road they’re going to be taking.”
“Yeah, and 90 is a hell of a lot bigger and faster. You take 97, you’ll be chasing their heels for hours. Take 90 and really make this bucket move, and we might get across 970 in time to cut them off.”
The deputy hesitated only an instant. “I hope to hell you’re right, Shere Khan, because our buddy over here is going to kill something real soon, and I’d rather not be the only thing available when he does.”
Tires squealed as he changed direction and tested what an official emergency vehicle could be capable of.
Renny fought and squirmed for everything she was worth, but it was hard to fight off an incipient rape with both hands and feet tied behind your back. Of course, it would also be damned hard for Geoffrey to consummate the act without untying at least her legs, and when he did, she would not be holding back.
The van lurched over a particularly rough patch of ground, temporarily interrupting her attacker. Geoffrey slammed his shoulder against the side of the vehicle and swore.
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