She wasn’t exactly sure how she did it, but she managed to get herself away from Baltimore. She barely remembered making her way down to the parking garage and getting into her car. Her thoughts were jumbled and confused. The one thing she had straight was G was with the Department and he had connections. Once he found out she was missing from the hospital, the first place he would look would be the apartment.
She hadn’t been driving long when she realized he would also be looking for her car. She had no choice but to ditch the car and catch another bus.
She watched out the window of the bus as her car, her baby, her pride and joy, disappeared from sight. The car was one of the few things that was genuinely hers and she had to leave it behind. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. Why the hell was she crying over leaving a car?
As she sat in the seat, she wanted to curl into a ball but that wasn’t possible. It was taking everything she had to fight the tears and ease the pain. The tears came from the memory of what happened with G, from leaving everything she had behind and the excruciating pain from her injuries. Finally, there were the tears that came from knowing she was once again completely on her own. There was no one to trust.
Riding the bus felt more like riding a bull at a rodeo. Every movement pulled on the staples making her feel as if they were popping open. Letting her head drop back against the seat, she looked out the window as silent tears fell.
Of course, it was just her luck that an older woman sat beside her and broke all the rules of the concrete jungle when she reached out and touched Carlee’s leg. At her touch, Carlee nearly jumped through the window. All Carlee could do was look at her as the elderly lady handed her a tissue.
When the woman spoke, her voice reminded Carlee of the Hollywood version of a sweet old granny who should be offering up a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
“Young’un, I don’t know wha’cha runnin’ from, but I can tell ya, there ain’t no man breathin’ worth any tears. ‘Specially one that would leave marks like that on ya. That ain’t no real man.”
Carlee forced a smile and took the tissue. The tears running down her face were not helping her stay invisible. With a soft, weak voice, she said, “Thanks, I think I learned my lesson on that one. I’m thinking battery operated boyfriends are the best.”
Granny reached down in her purse, grabbed a book and began to read. Not another word was said.
Carlee tried to get comfortable, but no matter how she moved, it didn’t make a difference. The pain was getting worse. She was only half-way to her destination when the bus stopped in Virginia Beach. The pain was unbearable, causing bile to rise in her throat. She thought to herself she could handle the beach a while.
Moving like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, her palms were sweating as she grabbed the top of each seat to get off the bus. She wanted to kiss the cab driver waiting a few feet from the bus door. Easing into the back seat of the cab, she closed the door behind her.
“Just get me to a hotel, a clean one without bugs.”
She may have passed out for a bit on the ride, and jumped at the sound of the driver’s voice as he opened the window between them. “Hey, we’re here, lady. That will be a hundred bucks.”
She didn’t question the amount; she didn’t care. She just reached into her purse, pulled out the cash and tossed it to him. As she made her way from the car, she looked at the hotel as he sped away. The place looked clean, but more important, it had beds.
The night clerk at the desk did a double-take as she stood at the counter and checked in, and paid in cash. The last dose of pain medication she had gotten at the hospital was wearing off, and the pain was making her mind fuzzy. Having every intention of using a fake name, the clerk demanded a form of ID, and a credit card to keep on file. No longer up for the fight, just needing to lay down, there wasn’t any way around it. The way she looked, there was no way he was letting her in without one. The pain was more than she could manage. Reluctantly, she handed over the ID and credit card.
Her feet shuffled as she made her way to the room and exhaustion began to claim her. She closed her eyes and prayed as the key card actually worked on the first try. Once inside, she closed the door and secured all the locks. She turned on the light and glanced around the room, taking in the pale green walls, and pale green floral print on the double bed. She moved slowly across the room, checking the closets, the bathroom, and behind the shower curtain because that was always where the bad guys would hide. She didn’t know what she was looking for really, but was glad it wasn’t there. Standing in the middle of the floor she let her jacket fall off her shoulders onto the floor along with her bag.
“Hello bed. I love you.”
Walking over to the bed and pulling back the blankets, she grabbed the remote for the TV and found MTV, turning down the volume to low and letting the music fill the room, then tossed the remote to the night stand. She just needed something to drown out the voices in her head, G’s words, the pain.
She laid down as carefully as she could and pulled the blankets up. It didn’t help much; tears of pain were streaming down her cheeks. She tried all she knew to will them away, and failed. She tried to make sense of everything as the room began to spin around her. Why had it happened? G was nowhere near perfect, but she never imagined he was homicidal, either. Even more crucial was why didn’t he want her to solve this case? Someone above him had to be pulling the strings, but who? There was the bigger question. Was she going to survive? Her parents had pretty much estranged themselves from her years ago. Calling them was obviously not an option; they didn’t even bother coming to the hospital. Her brother, Kyle, wasn’t an option. She didn’t even know if he was still alive. If he was, she wouldn’t put him in danger. She closed her eyes and let the blackness envelop her, not caring whether she slept or lost consciousness.
She welcomed oblivion.
Chapter Eight
Flipping open his cell phone, Ryden dialed Carlee. Even after all this time he kept her number, often putting his finger on the send button, but always resisting. This time he didn’t hesitate. On his run, her face kept coming to his mind along with his wolf’s insistence that something was wrong. He’d tried to ignore these feelings for days, opting to take out his frustration at the gun range, going for another run with JT and even hand-to-hand fighting between the two of them until his arms and legs felt like they were made of lead. Now, he knew he had to at least call and make sure she was okay.
It rang several times and then her voice mail picked up. “Hey, oh my God, I can’t believe you called! I was just thinking about you...[long pause]…Gotcha! You know what to do at the beep.”
“Hey, um, it’s Ryden. Call me back when you get this message.” He flipped the phone closed, trying to assure himself nothing was wrong and failed miserably. An hour later, he was dialing her again, still getting her voice mail. He was frustrated even more, and it came out in his message he left her.
“Dammit! Where are you, Carlee? Call me back as soon as you get this message.”
He tried Carlee’s cell phone a short ten minutes later, only to get her voicemail. After leaving another message, he was right back to square one, so he figured the only thing to do was go find her.
He drove across town to Carlee’s apartment, looking at his phone every five seconds and willing it to ring. He tried calling her several more times, but the calls continued to go straight to voicemail. She had turned her phone off.
As he pulled up into the apartment parking lot, Carlee’s lime green Charger was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she just hadn’t gotten home yet. Could be she pulled an all-nighter and just hadn’t turned her phone on. That had to be it...but the dread Ryden felt was still there as he reached the door.
“Shit.”
He paid no attention to it and tried the door. It was locked, so he went to grab her extra key from the potted plant that sat by her front door. It wasn’t there. He looked around the area, thinking she might have changed her hiding place, but
he couldn’t find it. Nothing to do but bust the door down. His foot met the door right where the deadbolt was and burst through it way too easy. Carlee babe, you know better than to not set the deadbolt. He walked inside and his heart sank. He saw what was left of an obvious dinner for two. It was days old; the stench of rotten food filled the room. There was another scent, Carlee. She always smelled like fresh earth. He would know her scent anywhere.
There was one scent that stood out, however, a man’s cologne, covering the scent of the same one who thought he needed to drench himself in the stuff. Still, it wasn’t enough since he didn’t recognize the smell. He would if he ever crossed paths with the cologne-drenched man again. For now, his only option was to start calling hospitals and see if she had been brought in.
She was alive, Ryden and his wolf were certain of that much, but he was now certain of something that had him nearly out of his mind, she was hurt. He grabbed her phone book from the desk in the den and began to make phone calls to the local hospitals. On the fifth try, he found she had been admitted to Mercy Hospital. Before the receptionist could say anything more, Ryden was out of the apartment, down the stairs, and back in his car.
Ryden made it to the hospital in record time, parked and made straight for the front desk. He was nearly shouting at the receptionist.
“Carlee O’Shannon, where is she?”
She began to scramble at her computer, hands shaking as she tried to find the information Ryden needed.
“Um, sir, it seems she’s left the hospital, but I am n-not showing she was released. I don’t know where she is...”
“What? How do you lose a patient?”
He could see the security guard eyeing him from across the room, and he knew he had to settle down before he was arrested. Ryden took a deep breath and ran his hands through his short brown hair. His only thought was finding Carlee.
Phone in hand, he walked outside and called JT. Ryden knew JT could track that damn lime green Dodge Charger of hers. It would stick out like shit on a stick, and if she was anywhere around, he’d find her.
The phone rang, and JT picked up quickly.
“Ryden, you okay, man?”
“Yeah, I’m good, but I’m afraid Carlee isn’t. I’ll explain later, but I need you to track her car. See what you can find out if it’s been spotted, anything that might lead me to her.”
“I’m on it. Sit tight and I’ll call you back as soon as I have anything.”
JT hung up, and Ryden knew he’d be getting right to work to find Carlee’s car. Now he just had to sit and wait, something Ryden was never good at.
Carlee had great taste in cars, but she just had to get that ugly ass green. Ryden swore she did it just to annoy him.
When she’d decided to buy a new car, Ryden went with her to make sure she got a good deal.
“Peach, I got this.”
“Nope, I’m going to make sure you get a good deal on a good car, Buttercup.”
Rolling her eyes, Carlee walked through the dealership car lot, looking at the different makes and models.
“I want something that’s different. You know, like me. I don’t do normal.”
Weaving his fingers through hers, he kissed her cheek.
“Normal is most definitely not you. Wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Suddenly she squealed, let go of his hand and ran across the lot to the hideous car.
“This is it! I’ll take it! Lime green, it’s perfect!”
“What? Hell no, that thing is ugly. And what if it doesn’t run? You can’t tell me you’re buying a car based on the color?”
“Yep, Peach, I am. You can make sure it runs while I go sign on the dotted line.” Giggling, she walked to the building, shaking her ass a bit as she went and looked over her shoulder. “We can christen it later.”
Her face was all he could envision. That goofy nerdy look she loved to pull off in order to hide the fact that she was so smart always made him laugh. She loved to stick out in a crowd and usually had some wild color streaked through her long dark hair. Of course, his favorite would always be the buttercup yellow. Saying she marched to a different beat was an understatement. Ryden had never encountered a more unique individual, nor enjoyed his time with anyone more. Had his life been different, he would have married her and had planned to just that as soon as he got out of the Army. That was until he was attacked.
JT never understood what prompted one of his own unit members to attack a human in the first place. Wolfpack Delta was a unit in the elite Delta Force comprised solely of werewolves. Shitty timing placed Ryden’s unit in the same vicinity as the werewolves he had no idea even existed, much less held place in the US Military. But that night found Ryden bleeding under the large jaws of the predator, his fangs dripping red as Ryden tried to fend off the attack. And if it hadn’t been for JT, Ryden would surely have died that night.
Looking back, Ryden couldn’t remember all the details. They had become foggy in his fevered mind and pain filled body. But when the smoke cleared, there stood Lt. Howard...well, it looked a bit like him, anyway. Ryden wasn’t sure for a while what he saw until it was all explained to him later. All he knew was the commanding officer he’d met only a few times before, stood over the body of an extremely large animal, something Ryden had never thought to see in his life. As the haze took over, Ryden realized he was bleeding from wounds in his side, wounds that by normal standards would have been mortal.
JT called him back in record time, giving him the location of Carlee’s car. It had been spotted at a bus station not far away. Ryden was thankful JT still had connections and could call in a favor or two.
Now out on the open road, Ryden was glad she’d bought that ugly car. He pushed the speed limit, trying desperately to get to Carlee, without attracting unwanted attention in the process.
It took longer than he expected, but Ryden finally pulled in at the bus station and there sat Carlee’s lime green Charger, right where JT had said it would be. No one could miss it. Shaking his head, he looked through the windows but didn’t see anything, not even her purse or a bag. Nothing would have made her abandon her car in such a place unless she was in trouble, and Ryden knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t keep her car safe. He made a quick phone call to Thomas who owned the storage facility and asked him to come pick it up and take it to Ryden’s unit for safe keeping.
Inside the bus station, he went around asking people if they’d seen Carlee. He had an old photo of her on his cell and showed it around. It took him a half hour before he finally found the clerk who’d sold Carlee the bus ticket. The destination was south to Savannah, Georgia.
“Savannah? Why Savannah, Buttercup? Where are you running to?” Ryden said to himself.
Shaking his head, he grabbed a map, detailing the various stops the bus would make on the way south. With any luck, he’d find her before she got to Savannah since she was only three hours ahead of Ryden and the Mustang would be faster. The bus wouldn’t make good time at all. So, pulling up the GPS on his phone, Ryden left Maryland, praying all the way that she was all right. In the meantime, he called JT back to run a check on her credit cards to see if any of them had been used.
An hour into the trip, JT called back with a hit. Carlee’s ID had been run at a hotel in Virginia Beach, but there was no record that a credit card was used. Something was unquestionably wrong here. She was running. Question was, who was she running from and was Ryden ahead of that person or behind them? With that thought in mind, he had to find her, and fast.
Chapter Nine
It was an exhausted sleep that overtook Carlee, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. Every movement felt as if her stomach was being ripped open. It would not have been a surprise at any moment to have some alien creature reach out of her chest and put her out of her misery.
Clutching the pillow against her stomach, she tried to hold herself together. She felt the wetness against her skin, the bandage obviously soaked through, she doubte
d at this point that she was bleeding, but infection was definitely a possibility. She wasn’t a complete idiot. She knew she needed help but where do you get help when you don’t know whom to trust and you have no one to turn to?
She looked down to the floor at her bag; her phone was in there but turned off. She worked the crime lab. She at least had enough sense to realize that the GPS could get her located. When the one who attempted to kill you worked for the Bureau, you had to think of the resources they had at their disposal.
Rolling over in the bed, she thought, Who am I kidding? If did haul my ass out of this bed and get the phone, who would I call anyway? My parents? Would I call G? Oh yeah, the killer ex-boyfriend, I hope he is holding his breath waiting for that call. Friends? Ryden?
Wincing, she hugged the pillow tighter again, going through the list in her head. Her life was her work. Her friends were work. There was no one to call. She wouldn’t use Sarah again. Pulling her into this mess wasn’t an option.
As silent tears fell, one name did come to mind, Ryden Coulter. How strange was it that she would think of him? It had been years since she had seen him last. He was probably someplace overseas doing his own impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator.
The thoughts of Ryden were not a welcome distraction. At one time, Ryden was her best friend, her lover, the only one who made her feel wanted. They had started as friends with benefits and, oh, holy hell, what benefits they were. One intoxicated night of white hot monkey sex on his way out of town followed by a couple of drive-bys turned into something she never thought she would find, acceptance for all her quirky ways. She’d been naive enough to think she’d found love. The memories were bittersweet. While she would never forget what they shared, she also wouldn’t forget the call telling her it was over, that he was never coming back. In the hours and days that followed that call, she felt not just as if her heart was broken, she felt as though she’d lost part of her soul. He probably didn’t even remember her. And exactly what would she to say if she called?
Wolf’s Heart Page 5