by Eve Langlais
Shock electrified him.
An infant. He studied the frilly blankets and pink crocheted hat. A girl, he thought, probably three or four months old.
“Holy shit.”
Startled by his fervent exclamation, the baby curled her rosebud lips and wailed, shaking her tiny mitten–covered fists at him.
Rafe looked at Wolf. She offered him a solemn, unblinking gaze. “Where the hell did you find a baby?”
Chapter Two
GRETCHEN MYERS WOKE to an endless and rhythmic beeping. She was strapped to a bed–the only thing she recognized in the cloying darkness. Her head throbbed and her chest hurt. He’d found her. Her stepsister’s demented husband had found Gretchen and imprisoned her. He would kill her.
Just like he’d killed Vivian.
Gretchen bit back an anguished wail.
A swath of white cut through the room’s utter blackness. Fear awakened inside her, but it was dull and thick, like chilled honey. Through heavy–lidded eyes, Gretchen watched a stocky female figure walk briskly to the bed and reach above her head. A light flickered on. She blinked into the harsh brightness, attempting to focus on the woman hovering above her.
Gretchen noted the kind face, the short silvery gray hair, and the blue scrubs. She squinted at the plastic rectangle pinned on the woman’s top. Sally Shake, R.N. She moved her arms and realized her what she believed to be a strap was actually an IV line inserted into her right wrist.
“Where am I?” Her voice sounded like the metallic squeal of a rusted hinge. She tried to wet her mouth, but it was like swallowing cotton. She coughed, and pain pulsed in her ribs. Ouch.
“Hello there! I’m Sally. You’re at Summerlin Hospital. They brought you in last night.” Sally seemed to intuit Gretchen’s dire thirst. She poured water from a pink plastic jug into a cup. “Here you go, sweetie. Just a little bit. Enough to get your mouth wet.”
Gretchen lifted her head and took small sips, resisting the urge to gulp. The cold water was pure nirvana, and in the moment, better than any liquid she’d ever tasted. After a few moments, she sank back onto the pillow. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I feel so tired.”
“It’s the meds.” The grandmotherly woman patted Gretchen’s arm. “You’re banged up, but you’ll be okay. Do you remember anything about the car accident?”
Memory flickered. The dark winding road. Twin dots of light appearing in the rearview mirror. Fear knotting her throat. Her hands shaking. Metal crunching. Tires screeching. Terrified screams. Hers. Kaylie’s.
Oh, my God. “Is the baby all right?”
Sally turned from checking the monitors. “Baby?”
“Yes. My … uh, daughter. Kaylie. She’s almost four months old.” Gretchen’s heart thudded. Had Kaylie been hurt when the sedan crashed into the trees? No. She had to believe the baby was all right. Gretchen couldn’t let Vivian down, not when her stepsister’s final act on this earth had been to protect that sweet baby girl.
“I’ll go check on your daughter. The doctor will be here any minute.” Sally’s smile offered reassurance, but Gretchen knew better than to trust anyone. Especially people hiding behind masks of being friendly professionals. Her hazy memory seemed to go in and out of focus–sharp one second, blurred the next. She couldn’t think straight. Please, please, please let Kaylie be okay.
In last twenty–four hours, Gretchen’s entire world had been turned upside–down with one run–in from a woman she hadn’t seen or heard from since they were teens. It was only by chance that they had re–connected. Or so Gretchen had thought. She realized now that running into Vivian at Caesar’s hadn’t been coincidence.
Vivian’s father and Gretchen’s mother had been blackjack dealers at the Drift Resort. It was a whirlwind courtship and an impulsive marriage. The relationship lasted less than five years. When Gretchen was fifteen and Vivian was seventeen, their respective parents divorced. Mom took her to Michigan so they could live closer to her grandparents, and Vivian and her father stayed in Vegas. Gretchen hadn’t been back to Nevada since … until yesterday.
How had her stepsister known that she was in Las Vegas? She’d unexpectedly won a vacation getaway a month ago, one that was only good for the first weekend in December. Gretchen was headed to a spa appointment when she spotted Vivian striding down the hallway. Their brief interaction consisted of a hug and a “How have you been?” conversation that lasted maybe two minutes. Vivian left with a smile and a wave. Later, after Gretchen went to her hotel room, she discovered a note in her jacket pocket.
Meet me at the address below at midnight. Park at the end of the driveway and go to the side door. Be as quiet as possible. I’ll explain everything when you arrive. I’m sorry to burden you, Gretchen, but you’re the only one I can trust. Please help me save my daughter.
A normal person would’ve called the police and handed the matter over to them. But Gretchen knew Vivian wasn’t a normal person–she knew her stepsister’s secret. Vivian was a werewolf. She had revealed her other self to save Gretchen. So, if Vivian was in trouble, Gretchen was more than glad to re–pay the debt.
At her stepsister’s instructions, Gretchen followed her rental car’s GPS directions to the address, which turned out to be an unbelievably luxurious mansion tucked onto the side of Mt. Charleston. The moment Gretchen arrived at the side door, Vivian opened it and handed her the purple bag that contained her most precious treasure.
Kaylie.
I don’t care about me, but my daughter deserves better. You have to take her. Please.
We’ll all leave together, Vivian.
There’s no escape for me.
Don’t say that. Come on. Let’s just go.
You don’t understand. My husband is Rand Blackthorne.
Blackthorne! Is he related to–
It’s complicated, Gretch. I don’t want her last name to be his. I don’t want his legacy to belong to her. When he’s … he’s distracted, you hold onto my baby and run.
Distracted? What’s going on?
Take Kaylie to Bleed City, Nevada. Ask for Aunt Lila. She’ll know what to do.
Gretchen had protested, but Vivian paled and whispered, “Rand’s coming.” She pushed the door closed between them, and Gretchen heard the lock click. The pretty square window sparkled in the moonlight. Its charming lace curtain gaped in the middle, offering a slivered view into the mudroom.
She stood frozen on the tiny concrete porch, hand raised to knock, desperate for Vivian to change her mind. Then a large man, who had to be Rand Blackthorne, stormed inside yelling and pointing a gun, so enraged he didn’t notice a witness. Gretchen would never forget his face. She would never forget the savage monster that appeared so quickly as he raised the gun and shot his wife point–blank in the head.
Gretchen swallowed a jagged, hollow scream.
Tears streaming down her face, she clutched the baby to her constricted chest … and ran.
“Miss?”
Startled, Gretchen blinked away the memories and looked at the man who stood in the doorway, a chart in his hand. He was tall, lean, and wore a white lab coat. He had short brown hair and a nondescript face. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. McClure.” He crossed to the room, his expression polite and professional. However, his brown eyes were confident and kind. Gretchen relaxed. “You’re Ms. Myers?”
“How did you know that?”
“From your driver’s license. Your purse was among the items EMS collected when they took you from the accident scene.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“Bits and pieces. How did I get here?”
“Frat boys on their way to the ski resort found you right after the accident. You managed to leave the car, but then you passed out. You’re very lucky. You didn’t suffer any negative effects from lying in the snow–no hypothermia or frostbite.”
“What about the baby? Is she okay?”
He’d barely started his examination when Sally returned, anxiety and concern apparent in her expression. “Sweetie, I checked with the nurse who was on shift when you came in. You were alone. They didn’t find a baby.”
“Call the police,” said Dr. McClure. “We’ll need search and rescue out there immediately.”
Sally bustled away to do as the doctor directed. Dr. McClure patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Ms. Myers. We’ll do everything we can to find your child.”
Gretchen felt the blood drain from her face. Images and sounds filled her mind. She’d put Kaylie in the built–in pull–down child seat and harness in the back of her sedan. At the time she’d rented the car, the agent had mentioned the feature among many others when selling her the upgrade. She was glad she’d gone for luxury instead of practicality.
The next thing Gretchen remembered was a large, ugly truck roaring up behind her car and smacking into the bumper.
Spinning.
Sliding.
Slamming.
Dazed, she’d pushed down the air bag and unbuckled the seat belt. The door opened and she fell out. Bitterly cold snow seeped into her clothes as she struggled to stand. From the back seat, Kaylie started to cry. The baby had survived the crash.
Gretchen’s relief was short lived. The truck that had caused her to drive off the road pulled up behind her vehicle.
Kaylie’s cries turned into tiny, angry howls.
Then she’d heard another howl, this one deeper, longer–an answer to the baby’s distress.
She fell forward, the earth spinning beneath her. That must’ve been the moment she went unconscious. Hearing that eerie howl was the last thing she remembered–everything afterward was a blank.
Snapping back to the present, Gretchen looked at Dr. McClure as panic clawed through her. Surely, the EMTs wouldn’t have missed Kaylie if they’d thought to get her purse out of the car. Had Rand gotten to the baby? If her rescuers had found her right after the crash, maybe Rand didn’t have time to kidnap his daughter. Gretchen didn’t know what was worse: Vivian’s child falling into the hands of her murderer, or Kaylie lying somewhere in the woods, buried in snow.
Breathe, Gretchen. Think. Kaylie had a better chance because she wasn’t human. Wolf shifters were stronger in mind and in body. But she was still so young. How long could she survive?
“You have to find Kaylie.” Gretchen clutched at the doctor. “Please,” she cried. “Please! You have to find her!”
“Calm down. I don’t want you to bust open your stitches or aggravate your concussion.”
“You have to find that child. I promised. I promised.”
“Sshh.” Dr. McClure reached over and pushed a button on Gretchen’s IV line. “Everything will be all right, Ms. Myers.”
Gretchen felt suddenly lethargic. Her eyelids drooped. “What…did…”
“It’s okay,” soothed the doctor. “You need the rest.”
Gretchen sank, unwilling, into oblivion.
Chapter Three
Ten Years Ago…
THE LAUGHTER WAS the worst part. The boys enjoyed Gretchen’s torment. They knew the desert better than she did, so they followed her at a pace set to terrorize. Far enough away to make her think she might escape–close enough that a quick sprint would allow them to catch her.
They’re going to hurt me.
Sneaking out and going to the senior party in Red Rock Canyon had been a big mistake. Now, Gretchen was running amid the clusters of rocks and scrub brush, sand filling her shoes, breath stalling in her lungs, and fear clouding her thoughts.
“What’s wrong, baby?” yelled Trent. “I thought you liked us!”
“That’s right! You know you want some of this,” added Jacob.
They whooped with more laughter.
Tears scalded Gretchen’s cheeks. Trent and Jacob had been so nice to her at school. They were popular and cute, the football jocks that most girls crushed on. She’d let them talk her into attending the annual bonfire–an unofficial tradition honored by graduating classes. Lower classmen rarely got invited. So when Trent and Jacob had approached her, not only asking her to go, but also offering a ride in Trent’s new Mustang, she’d been flattered. Vivian had tried to warn her, but Gretchen wouldn’t listen. You’re just jealous that they like me and not you.
But her stepsister had been right. Trent and Jacob hid ugly natures made uglier still by their sense of entitlement. As they drank beer after beer, flirting turned into aggression. She had accepted a can because everyone else was drinking, and she didn’t want to stick out as the goody two shoes. She tried a sip, but instantly disliked the foamy wheat taste. It didn’t take long for Trent and Jacob to separate her from the others. They closed in around her, trying to touch and kiss her. Don’t be a bitch. You should be happy we picked you, Gretchen. You’re lucky.
“Don’t be a baby. We’re just messing with you,” taunted Jacob.
“C’mon, Gretchen. Stop running,” yelled Trent. “We’ll take you back to the party.”
They weren’t even trying to convince her of their lies. They didn’t care that she was terrified. In fact, they were treating her like prey. Jacob and Trent were two unrepentant predators on the hunt. Deep down to her soul, Gretchen knew she couldn’t escape them.
Gretchen’s sides ached, and her calves burned. It was dark, but she was using the mini–light on her keychain to avoid ankle–busting holes and trip–inducing plants. Desperation surged. Her gaze skittered across two boulders leaning against each other. She was small enough to fit in the space between them. If she stayed there, quiet, maybe Trent and Jacob wouldn’t see or hear her. Eventually, they would give up … wouldn’t they?
Gretchen didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t outrun them. Her only chance was to hide. And she’d rather be stuck alone in the desert than at the mercy of the two drunken teenage boys.
She ran to the boulders, her heart pounding so hard she could feel its frantic beat in her ears and in her throat. She skidded to a stop and sank to her knees, crawling forward. Safety waited just inches away. Relief slid through her as she sought to wedge herself into the tight space.
Her relief turned acidic when hands clamped onto her ankles, and she was dragged backwards.
Gretchen screamed.
She dropped her keys and clawed at the sand, trying to find purchase. One of the boys grabbed her hips. He flipped her over. She scraped at the stone, her fingernails breaking as she tried to hold on.
She kicked and punched, but Trent and Jacob were stronger. Jacob grasped her flailing legs as Trent pushed her shirt up and grabbed her breasts.
“No!” she cried. “Stop!”
“Leave her alone.”
The sound of Vivian’s voice silenced the boys’ mean–spirited laughter. Gretchen went still, but couldn’t stop sobbing. Fear poisoned her blood, withered her muscles, and scratched at her bones.
“Well, well. You gonna join the fun, Viv?” asked Jacob. He wasn’t completely able to contain his surprise at her stepsister’s sudden appearance. But his arrogance was too great to be put off stride for too long.
“Get your hands off her before I break all your fingers.”
Gretchen looked at her stepsister, amazed at her calm demeanor as she stared down the attackers. Vivian glanced at her, and Gretchen saw the animalistic tint of Vivian eyes. It was the same kind of iridescence she sometimes saw in her cat Mellow’s eyes.
Jacob and Trent shared a look. It was as if they communicated psychically. Jacob stood as Trent grabbed Gretchen and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pinning her against his solid frame.
“Tell you what,” Jacob smirked. “You shut up and do what we say, and maybe we don’t leave you alone to bleed in the desert.”
Vivian smiled. “I’ll make you the same offer. How about that, Jacob?”
Jacob didn’t like be
ing challenged. He moved swiftly, trying to backhand Vivian, but she dodged. Then she punched him in the solar plexus. He staggered, breathless, and Vivian kicked him in the crotch. Hard.
He fell onto his side, curling into a fetal position as he moaned in pain.
Vivian turned. “Let her go, Trent.”
“Sure, baby.” Trent released Gretchen.
She scrambled away, getting to her feet and nearly falling into Vivian’s arms.
Trent slowly stood and took particular care to dust the sand off his jeans. He didn’t look all that alarmed about his friend’s injuries, and he sure as hell wasn’t afraid of Vivian.
“Dude. I’m outta here. You gonna stay with these freaky bitches?” Jacob had managed to stand, but his expression was still pained.
“Go on. I’ll catch up.”
“Whatever, man.” Jacob turned and walked off.
As soon as his friend went out of sight, Trent shook his head and sighed. “Humans are so fragile.” His gaze zeroed in on Gretchen. “Weak. Stupid. Ignorant.”
“You still spouting that racist crap your dad taught you?”
Trent snarled. “You’re a mongrel. Your human mother was too weak to even finish bearing a werewolf baby. You don’t even have a pack.”
“We don’t want one,” said Vivian. “Stay away from Gretchen.”
“Gretchen likes me. Don’t you?” His smile was pure evil.
“The Shadows won’t tolerate your treatment of humans. It’s against pack law to harm them. Back off, or I’ll report you to the alpha.”
Gretchen didn’t understand what they were talking about. Alpha? Packs? Werewolves?
“Vivian,” she whispered, “what’s going on?”
“Nothing. C’mon.” Vivian put Gretchen behind her. “We’re walking out of here. Keep your distance, Trent.”
“Or what?” Trent’s face began to change. His brow broadened, his nose and cheeks pushed out, and his jaw widened. He dropped to all fours as his back bowed and his clothes began to swell as his musculature changed.
Fur sprouted, and a full, thick coat was revealed as the beast that used to be Trent shook off the shredded clothing. He lifted his snout to the sky and howled.