"Stop right there,” he shouted as he stepped out onto the porch. He had Altheia in his arm with a gun to her head.
Michael growled deep in his throat. If anything happened to his mate, he'd rip the guy's heart out of his chest with his bare hands.
"Michael!” she cried.
He took an involuntary step toward her.
"Stop! Move and I kill her."
"What do you want?” he growled.
The man's mouth twisted into an evil smile. “Why you, of course,” he said as he swung the gun toward Michael and pulled the trigger.
Michael felt the impact in his chest. He could hear Altheia screaming hysterically, calling his name. Numbness swiftly sped through his system.
Glancing down at himself, he saw what appeared to be a feathered dart sticking from the center of his chest. He reached for it but couldn't seem to make his hand obey his command. A puzzled expression creased his brow as he glanced up, locking his eyes with his mate for a second before the darkness claimed him and his body dropped to the ground.
Altheia thought her heart would break when Michael fell. His last glance told her he didn't understand what had happened to him.
"You killed him!” she wailed. Kicking and screaming, she tried desperately to wrench herself away from the stalker. She had to get to Michael.
"Shut up,” the man spat at her as he dragged her down the steps and across the yard. Cautiously he approached the body lying motionless on the ground.
Altheia continued to struggle till his arm yanked her roughly up against his chest, crushing the air out of her lungs. For a few minutes there was silence except for the sound of Altheia as she struggled to catch her breath.
The man reached out and nudged the body with his boot. Michael didn't move.
"Michael...” she whimpered as she looked down on his silent form.
"Shut up. He's not dead."
"What?"
"It was a tranquilizer dart. He'll be out for a while, but he'll live."
"What do you want with us?” she asked. Money?"
"All I want, Baby, is this hot little body of yours. We got unfinished business, bitch."
"Oh God, no,” she pleaded. “Please don't hurt me."
"Don't worry, Baby, you're going to love it.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a rag and pressed it to her face.
Altheia panicked. He was trying to smother her! Her mouth opened and she tried desperately to breathe. A sweet odor assaulted her and she fought him harder. She quickly weakened and her hands dropped to her sides. With a last panicked breath she collapsed unconscious in his arms.
Jack grinned. Piece of cake, he thought as he let her body drop to the ground.
Walking over to the van, he noted the keys still in the ignition. Good, he thought. He went around and opened the rear doors.
Going back to Michael, he pulled tie wraps from his other pocket and proceeded to bind Michael's hands and feet. Then yanking his arms and legs behind him, he tied them together. There was no way he could move.
He quickly bound Altheia's hands behind her, then picked her up and carried her to the van, strapping her in the passenger seat. He dragged Michael to the rear of the van and shoved him inside and locked the door.
Going back into the cabin, he grabbed Altheia's pocketbook and the luggage he had packed earlier. Turning out the lights, he locked the cabin door. Returning to the van, he tossed the luggage in the rear and drove away.
* * * *
Altheia woke up slowly, nausea clawing at her guts. Oh God, she thought, was she really going to have a baby? Was she going to be sick like this for weeks? She'd never survive it.
Suddenly she remembered Michael! Sitting up quickly, she grabbed her head in pain as it started to pound. Then her stomach lurched and she lost her lunch. Luckily when she leaned over the edge of the bed, she spied a waste basket and managed, barely, to keep from soiling the floor.
Several minutes later, after wiping her mouth on the bottom of the bedspread, she shakily managed to sit up. This time her stomach appeared ready to behave. Taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart, she opened her eyes and looked around.
She was in what appeared to be a large bedroom. In it was the bed she was sitting on, a wooden kitchen chair, a small dining table and the waste basket. The windows were bare except for shades which were drawn and both windows had bars on the inside.
To her left, she could see a closed door, and to the right of it, an open doorway. She could see the edge of a sink ... a bathroom.
She looked past the windows to her right. There was another doorway with the door missing. In its place was a barred door that almost reached the top of the doorway and was padlocked.
For a second she puzzled over the incongruity of a barred door in a bedroom when she remembered Michael.
"Michael!” she cried as she threw herself from the bed and scrambled to the barred door.
Michael was sprawled, with his back to her, on the floor of what was a large walk-in closet.
Someone had erected a cage, enclosed on top, bottom and sides, inside the closet. A small opening about 12 inches wide and 4 inches high had been left in the door of the cage. In the cage with Michael were a plastic bedpan, a urinal and a roll of toilet paper.
Dear God, they'd caged him like an animal! “Michael,” she called softly. Reaching through the opening at the bottom of the door, she could just touch his back. He was still warm and she could feel him breathing. But he didn't respond to her when she shook him.
Sitting back on her heels, she looked around the room again. The door! She jumped up and ran to it, but it was locked. After kicking the door, she slid to the floor in tears. They were trapped.
She jumped when someone knocked. She hadn't heard anyone approach.
"I'm going to tell you this once,” came that now familiar voice through the door. “I want you to get on the bed now. I have a gun and I won't hesitate to use it. But I'll only wound you and then I'll kill your mechanic.” The voice paused, “Understood?"
"Yes,” she said.
"Get on the bed now and tell me you're there. No tricks. I can tell by the sound of your voice."
She did as she was told. A minute later she heard the locks being released on the other side. The door opened in and banged against the wall.
The stalker stepped into the room with a gun in his hand. She started to shake.
"That's real good, Baby,” he drawled. “I really have better plans for that luscious body of yours than putting holes in it.” He grinned lewdly.
She pressed herself back into the headboard, as far as she could get on the other side of the bed, and watched him warily.
"Later, Baby,” he chuckled. Stepping out of the room for a second, he returned with a cafeteria tray and set it quickly on the floor. “Dinner,” he smiled as if at some sort of a joke. “Breakfast is when I feel like it, so I suggest you enjoy what you got."
Backing out of the room, he pulled the door shut behind him. She could hear the locks being thrown on the other side. Three of them, she noted absently.
She couldn't hear him leave because the hallway was carpeted. She'd seen it through the open door. He could sneak up on her anytime. She shivered.
Cautiously, she got up and approached the tray. On it were two Styrofoam bowls filled with canned spaghetti, four slices of bread, plastic spoons and two Styrofoam containers of coffee with cream. Even though her stomach was empty, she knew she'd never be able to eat a bite. Picking up the tray, she left it on the table.
Checking out the bathroom, she found no windows and only two towels, a washcloth and a bar of soap.
Going back to the closet, she lay down on the floor and reached through the opening until she could rest her hand against Michael's back. She needed the physical contact. “Dear God,” she prayed, “let him be all right."
* * * *
Damn, his head hurt. He raised his hands to his head and groaned when the muscles in his shoulders protes
ted with pain. What the hell had happened, he wondered.
"Altheia,” he whispered as he gracefully rolled over and rose to his feet.
He blinked in surprise. He was in a small room. A metal gate barred the doorway. No, that wasn't right, he thought as his head began to clear. He was in a cage inside a small room. Then he saw Altheia lying on the floor beyond the door, her arm through the bars.
In an instant, he was on his knees grabbing her hand in his. “God, Altheia, talk to me.” He rubbed her hand between his. She moaned softly and opened her eyes.
"Michael!” She sat up, her hand squeezed his. “Are you all right?” Her eyes were bright with concern and unshed tears.
"Yes, I think so. What about you? Did he hurt you?” he asked ferociously. “Do you know what he wants?"
"I don't know. He shot you with a tranquilizer dart. I thought he'd killed you."
Michael's hand absently strayed to his chest.
Tears quietly ran down her cheeks. He reached out through the bars and brushed them away with his fingers. He'd failed her. If anything happened to her, he'd never forgive himself.
"Then he must have used chloroform on me because I passed out. When I woke up, we were here.” She gestured behind her. “We're locked in."
Michael growled deep in his chest. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. He knew they were in big trouble and he didn't know if he'd be able to get them out.
He grasped both of her hands, pulling them through the bars, kissing her fingertips. “I'm sorry. I should never have left you alone. I should have made you stay with me."
"It's not your fault! He would have only surprised both of us."
"No. If he hadn't had you, I wouldn't have hesitated. I couldn't risk him hurting you."
"Then it's my fault,” she said as she pulled her hands away. “If I hadn't been so stubborn ... but I didn't want you to worry about me."
"Worry about what?” he asked suspiciously. “Is something else wrong?” He'd known for days something wasn't right, but he'd let her convince him he was wrong.
"It's nothing,” she dismissed him. She stood up. “Are you hungry? He left some food. Not quite what you're used to, but you're going to need to keep up your strength."
Now she was rambling. He was sure there was something she was keeping from him.
"Sure,” he said quietly. He had to get her back within reach.
She lifted the tray and carried it to the cage, setting it on the floor.
"You haven't eaten,” he observed.
"I'm not really hungry,” she said brightly. “You need it more than I do."
"Well, if you don't eat, neither will I,” he stated flatly, sitting back on his heels casually.
"But...” She blinked at him, consternation wrinkling her forehead. “Maybe just a little,” she compromised.
She ate half the bowl of spaghetti and one slice of bread. Then she sipped the coffee while Michael finished the rest of the food. She was right in that he had to keep up his strength. He had to be ready when a chance came his way.
As he sat back to drink his coffee, he reached through the opening to clasp her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. He waited patiently until she'd set her coffee down and quickly grabbed her wrist. Pulling her as close as the bars allowed, he stared into her eyes.
He could smell the fear in her scent. Not of him, but the danger they were both in. But there was still that something else. Something he felt he should recognize, but the memory was elusive.
"I know there's something you're not telling me. Don't you trust me? He didn't hurt you?” he asked again.
Something flickered in her eyes for a brief second, then was gone. “No. He didn't touch me,” she answered carefully.
"You're keeping something from me,” he said angrily. He dropped her wrist and sat back, putting some distance between them. “I can't help, Altheia, if you don't talk to me."
She looked at him. How could she tell him? It was only a chance that she might be pregnant. He would only worry about her more. Besides, she didn't know how he would react. He hadn't wanted to get her pregnant, he'd said so. She suddenly realized that if she was, it had to be one of the first times they'd been together, before he'd told her he didn't want children. It was an accident if it was true. Besides, she abruptly decided, she wanted Michael's baby more than anything.
He knew she was going to tell him whatever it was when she let out a deep sigh. All of a sudden, he was afraid he really didn't want to know.
"I went to the doctor after I left you yesterday,” she began.
"Are you sick?” he asked as his hands reached again for hers. She grabbed his hands and held on tight. Now he was really worried.
"No, I'm not exactly sick.” She took another deep breath as though trying to work up the courage to tell him.
"Just tell me,” he demanded apprehensively.
"The doctor ... he thinks I might be..."
"What?” he asked impatiently.
"Pregnant."
"What?” he whispered. He suddenly went cold as ice. Dear God, he knew. He'd known all along. That's why her scent had changed. It wasn't just hers anymore. It had been so long since he'd been around a pregnant woman that he'd forgotten.
"You are pregnant. I've known all along.” He smiled at her.
TWENTY-NINE
Altheia was confused. He knew? How could he have known she was pregnant? Even she found just the possibility difficult to comprehend. He'd known all along? She hadn't even considered it possible until a few hours ago.
"What the hell are you talking about? I haven't even had time to take the pregnancy test yet."
He couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He would have thought that the idea of becoming a father would have horrified him beyond belief, but he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
"Let's just say it's one of those things about me that are enhanced."
"Let's just say that in English.” She sat up and pulled her hands away.
"I think I mentioned my sense of smell?” He paused, and continued when she nodded. “Well, everyone has their own particular scent..."
"You mean I smell?” she interrupted, somewhat indignantly.
"No,” he laughed. “No quite like that. Think of it as a signature. I could pick you out of a room of people blindfolded."
"Like a bloodhound?” she questioned.
"Exactly,” he agreed. “Anyway, I had noticed your scent changed, but I didn't understand why. I thought you might have been sick or something."
"Oh, I've been sick all right,” she confessed, “every morning."
"Oh,” he said with concern, his hand reaching for her again. This time, she let him take her hand in his. “I'm sorry."
"There's nothing you could do,” she dismissed.
"But I now realize it wasn't your scent that changed. It had merged with that of the child. This early, it's really impossible to separate them. Closer to the birth, they become more distinct."
"If you knew, how come you never said anything?” she wanted to know. “How can you be sure?"
"I'm sure, don't doubt it. As to why I said nothing, it's because I'd forgotten. It's been years since I've been around a pregnant woman and then only once. Since I hadn't expected you to get pregnant, I never thought of it as one of the possibilities for the change in scent.” He paused and looked at her for a second. “I thought you couldn't have children?"
She felt herself flush with guilt and tried to pull away again, but he wouldn't allow it. “I thought I couldn't. The doctor thinks either Nature corrected herself or my husband's tests were wrong. I really don't know. I'm sorry. I know you didn't want this to happen. If you leave, I'll understand.” She looked at him suddenly with a fierce glint in her eyes, “But I'm keeping this baby. I want it."
"Believe me, Altheia, I may not have deliberately planned to father a child, but I want this child as much as you,” he told her as fiercely as she had told him.
She observed him, unsure whether to believe him or not. “Why would you change your mind now?” she asked suspiciously.
He wasn't sure how to explain this sudden acceptance and love for the child she carried in her womb. He didn't know how to explain it to himself. But this child was a part of him ... and her. Somehow it just seemed right in the scheme of things, like the fate that had brought them together.
"It's not that I didn't want a child. I was afraid of what it would be. But now it's real ... it lives. It no longer matters whether it's human or not. It's a part of me ... and you. I could never deny it.” He drew her hand closer and kissed her palm softly.
"Maybe it's simply a primal attempt at immortality. But I want this child and you more than anything. I won't leave you, Altheia. Believe me."
Altheia felt the tears running silently down her face. She loved him so much. “I'm really pregnant? You're sure?"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure,” he grinned at her again. “I even know when."
"When?” she asked in confusion. “When what?"
"When you got pregnant."
"But how?” she paused. “Smell?” she asked.
"Smell,” he confirmed. “After the full moon. I sensed it then, but the need to mate was too primal to resist."
"You never said anything,” she accused.
"Later that day you told me you couldn't have any children and I figured I was mistaken. After that, I put the whole subject out of my mind."
She reached out her other hand toward him until the bars stopped her. She blinked. She had almost forgotten the bars were there. Her fingers touched them with wonder. “Oh God, Michael,” she whispered. “What are we going to do?"
Michael sobered instantly. “Escape,” he said determinedly.
"But you're locked in. We're both locked in."
"One thing at a time. What's locking this door?"
"A padlock. Like you use on a school locker. See?” She lifted it slightly so he could see it.
He studied the lock for a minute, then reached through the bars. He could just manage to reach it. Maneuvering carefully, he could twist it enough to see the dial and turn it.
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