by Kit Tunstall
He let out a low roar through gritted teeth a moment later as the pain he’d expected swept through him. As he shifted, the bullet moved through his body, exiting out his back, from where it had entered. The trail it had left burned like fire, but the pain was lessening. By the time he’d shifted back to his human form, he was mostly healed. It might require one or two more shifts to completely heal him, due to the seriousness of the wound. If he’d been fully human, he’d be dead by now.
As soon as he was back, his tattered clothes around him, she buried her face in his chest and sobbed as she clutched the remnants of his shirt, seeming to want to drag him closer to her. “Why would they take Angel? How are we going to find her?”
He stood up, taking her with him as he got to his feet and setting her on hers. “I’m going to track the bastard. I’ll have to do it in bear form, because my senses are the most sensitive then.”
Her eyes widened with horror. “You’re going to traipse through San Diego in your bear form? If someone sees you, you could be shot.”
He nodded. “I could, but chances are I’ll be able to heal myself if that happens.”
She bit her lip. “If you shift in front of someone, then they’ll know about ursa sapiens. I thought that was a big secret?”
He sighed. “Of course it’s a big secret, but nothing is as important as getting back Angel. It doesn’t matter what the risks are, because we have to take them.”
After a moment, she nodded. “You’re right. I know you are, but I don’t want to lose you after losing her too.”
He pulled her against him, holding her tightly for a moment. “You’re not going to lose me, and we haven’t lost Angel. We’re going to find our daughter. I’m going to switch into my bear form, and I need you to attach my cell phone to my fur. Don’t worry about hurting me, because I have tough hide.” He pulled away from her reluctantly as he went into the house, his fingers twined through hers so he pulled her behind him. “I have a tracking device, and I can use it to home in on my cell phone. I want you to use it as you follow me in your car.”
She seemed startled. “You want me to come with you?”
He frowned, already mentally rearranging his plan. “I’d appreciate the backup, but if you’re too frightened, I understand. You aren’t trained for this, and I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
“I’m not too scared. I’m coming with you to get back Angel. I just figured I’d have to argue with you about the point, and to be honest, I’m shocked it was your idea that I come along.”
He gave her a small smile, which was the only mirth he was capable of at the moment with worry for Angel consuming him. “There’s no one else I’d rather have at my back, Libby. You might not be a federal marshal, and you haven’t had any military or police training, but you’re practically a lethal weapon in your own right.”
She frowned, looking confused. “How do you figure that?”
His smile widened briefly. “You’re a raging mama bear, and no one messes with your cub.”
She managed to give him a small smile, though her anxiety was still clear in her eyes. “Well, come along then, Papa Bear. Let’s go get back our baby.”
Chapter Seven
Lucas thought he was mostly successful in remaining unseen as he tracked down Angel’s scent. The perpetrator who had stolen her also smelled familiar, and he had a sinking feeling in his gut that he knew the identity of the person who had taken the baby.
Libby was following behind him in her car, as planned, so he stopped to wait for her when he detected a sharp increase in the familiar scents, certain his daughter was only a block or two away. She pulled up to the curb behind where he stood a moment later, and he quickly shifted back to his human form.
He nodded his approval, and she got out of the car, carefully holding the extra gun he’d given her at his house before they’d left. He’d been pleased to learn Libby had taken a self-defense class a few years ago that included a unit on gun use. By her own words, she wasn’t a great shot, but at least she knew the basics, and he didn’t have to worry about her blowing off her own foot by accident.
He took the sweatpants she extended and slipped them on before taking her hand. “Remember, stay behind me, and do everything I tell you to do. You’re not trained for the situation, so I need you to trust me to tell you the right thing.”
She nodded her understanding. “I remember. I’ll follow you and listen to you.”
“We’re close enough now that I can still follow the scent in my human form. I hope to avoid transforming, since there will likely to be witnesses, but I will if I have to. If that happens, I won’t be able to give you verbal cues, so just try to follow my lead.” His bear was prowling restlessly inside him, growling at him to hurry. He didn’t try to soothe the beast, because he shared its concern and need for urgent action.
Still holding Libby’s hands, he broke into a light jog, and she kept up with him. They moved quietly down the residential street, his sense of smell leading him to take a right at the first block, and then left at the next one. They arrived at a high-rise building labeled as The Glen At Fairhaven, despite the fact there was no glen nearby, and this part of San Diego, while swanky, was clearly no haven. He rolled his eyes at the pretentious title before turning back to Libby.
“I might need my badge here.” That was another item he had entrusted to her before they left his home. The sweatpants had no pockets, so he couldn’t carry it easily while fighting, but he could temporarily clip it to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he did just that before pushing on the door and stepping into the lobby. He was somewhat surprised to find they could get that far without using his credentials.
They wouldn’t be going any farther though, at least not without a show of force or the badge clipped to his waist. He strode to the front desk, his gaze never leaving the chubby man in the black and gold uniform. “I’m Marshal Anderson.” He slipped off the badge so he could bring it closer for the reception person’s examination. “Did you see a man enter with a baby?”
The attendant nodded. “He took the elevator up to the eighth floor.”
“Do you have camera footage of him getting out at the eighth floor?”
The kid nodded, though he looked faintly sick. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow and slid downward, and he took a moment to wipe them off with the back of his hand. “We do, but I don’t have access to it. We’d have to call in my manager, and perhaps even the building owner to get permission. Even if you had a warrant, I’m not cleared to view the security footage.”
He cursed softly, knowing it meant another delay. Once he was on the eighth floor, he’d be able to pick up the scent either in his human or bear form, but he wanted to know which apartment to approach to save that much time.
“I have a live feed though, and he went to apartment 812.”
Lucas smiled at the young man, though he was already planning how to proceed. “You’re not to alert the resident in 812 that I’m here. Who lives there?”
It took the kid a moment as he consulted a directory, but he finally gave an answer. “Zeke Archer rented the apartment three months ago.”
He nodded. “Thanks.” The timing was right. It was about three months ago that Astoria had witnessed Deacon shooting a DEA agent, and she’d run away. Since she had been living with Hunt, she would have been able to find his home again and direct authorities to it. In fact, she had done so, but when they had arrived with search warrants, it was to find an empty house cleared of everything. Their forensics team had spent four days combing the place, but it was as clean as if it had just been newly built.
Hunt had disappeared after that, and they’d been looking for him ever since. If Astoria hadn’t been shot by the sniper, she might still be holed up in that apartment with Angel as they waited to find Hunt to arrest him and bring him to trial.
He couldn’t be certain it was Deacon Hunt, but the pseudonym sounded close enough to make him think it was. He couldn�
��t think of anyone else who would kidnap Angel, though he was perplexed by Hunt’s actions. After showing no interest in his daughter, up to and including risking her life when he killed or had Astoria killed, why would he have any interest in her now? It was baffling, but Lucas wasn’t going to waste time asking questions. His first goal was to get Angel to safety, and then he could figure out the rest.
He had released Libby’s hand before they stepped into the apartment building, and he didn’t take it again until they had entered the elevator. He squeezed in a reassuring fashion. “Remember to stay behind me. If I start to change, you need to step back to give me room to do so. If someone shoots at you, let me take the bullet. I can heal with a transformation or two, whereas you can’t.”
She glanced at her arm, still covered by a bandage, and nodded. “I don’t like the idea of cowering behind you, but I understand the necessity. I’m ready.”
Satisfied that she understood the plan, though it was loosely structured, he squeezed her hand once more as the elevator doors opened before releasing her to step out first. He moved cautiously, reasonably confident Hunt didn’t have guards posted in the hallway, but wanting to make certain. His sense of smell had never failed him, but he was protecting Libby too. That made him extra cautious.
He nodded in her direction as he took a couple of steps forward, allowing her room to exit the elevator. She walked closely behind him, but not clinging or impeding his ability to move quickly. She had good instincts, and he wondered if it was something she’d picked up from being raised by a criminal. If so, at least one good thing had come out of that childhood.
When they reached apartment 812, he didn’t bother with ringing the doorbell. He just stepped back and kicked the frame. The first didn’t quite shatter the wood, and the lock held, though it was twisted. Making an impulsive decision, he slung off his sweatpants and transformed into his bear form before charging through the door. He closed his eyes to protect them from shards of wood, but opened them as soon as he was through the doorway. His senses were a thousand times sharper, and he detected Libby stepping in behind him a moment later. Her hand settled on his flank for just a second, as though silently assuring him she was there.
Pounding feet indicated the arrival of someone, but he already knew who it would be before he got a visual identification. Tim Crosby, ostensibly his partner, a man who had spent weeks with Astoria, and had seemed to like the young woman, skidded to a halt at the sight of Lucas in his bear form.
The animal inside him snarled for Crosby’s blood, and while Lucas would be happy to spill it, his first priority was getting Angel safely into Libby’s arms and out of harm’s way. With that in mind, he simply stood up on his back paws and swiped a front paw hard into Tim’s face, sending the man crashing into the wall, where he slumped without moving. His ex-partner wasn’t dead, but he was certainly out for now, and that was the important part.
He retained his bear form as he lumbered through the apartment, following his sense of smell to Angel. He found her car seat in the middle of a swanky living room, complete with a crystal chandelier. She lay in it, fussing quietly, but he didn’t go to her for the moment, and he blocked Libby when she tried to.
He wanted to know where Hunt was before he did anything rash, not wanting to walk into a trap. Hunt was hidden, but he couldn’t hide from the bear’s sense of smell, and Lucas easily homed in on his location. He was clearly hiding behind the floor-to-ceiling drapes that obscured one wall of the apartment. It was probably a glass wall, with a stunning view on the other side, but he wasn’t there for the scenery.
With a roar, he broke into a run, his bear urging him on in his head with gruff whines.
Before he reached Hunt, the other man stepped out from behind the curtain, holding a pistol in his hand. To give the drug runner credit, he looked unshaken at the sight of a bear in his apartment as he brought up the gun and shot at Lucas.
He ducked and dodged most of the bullets, but at least two entered his body. The first one grazed his back, but the second one lodged into his chest. He refused to acknowledge the injury or the subsequent pain as he reached Hunt. He knocked him to the floor with a swipe of his paw before putting his hind paw on Hunt’s throat.
He shifted back to his human form, his foot wedged against the other man’s neck, not too concerned in the moment if Deacon Hunt learned his secret. “Is there anyone else here?” He was already positive the answer was no, but he wanted to see if Hunt was capable of any honesty at all. His sense of smell had identified only the three unique pheromone signatures belonging to Tim Crosby, Deacon Hunt, and Angel.
“What the…?” Hunt trembled slightly, and he was clearly having difficulty absorbing what he’d seen and re-incorporating it into his world view, which now required modification.
Lucas pressed his foot harder against the other man’s windpipe, but just for a second. “Are you and Tim the only ones in the apartment?” At Hunt’s nod, he pressed a little harder before loosening his hold slightly. “Did you get a chance to call for backup, or is someone else on the way? Don’t even think about lying to me, or I’ll bring back the bear.”
“It’s just us.”
Lucas growled when he detected the sharp tang of fear altering Hunt’s signature scent, and he knew the other man was lying. He transformed just enough to bring his claws out of his hand, using them to press one lightly against Deacon’s eye. “Try again, and the truth this time, unless you want to go through life blind.”
“Calderon is sending some men to collect the kid.”
Lucas stiffened, and he heard Libby gasp behind him. “Javier Calderon?”
Even in the circumstances, Hunt clearly retained some of his normal arrogance. “It sure ain’t Bobo Calderon.” he smirked. “Javier is going to kill both of you.”
“Perhaps, but it won’t matter to you, because you’re going to be dead if you don’t start talking.” Lucas pressed his foot harder against the other man’s esophagus for a moment, wanting to press even harder for an instant. He looked at Libby, who stood partially behind him, her gaze centered on his chest.
He looked down and realized he was still bleeding, though the bullet had popped out of his body during his transformation back to his human self. Another transformation, and he doubted there be any evidence at all that he’d been shot. “I’m fine.” He could see the concern in her eyes, and he softened his tone slightly to reassure her. “Really, I’ll be fine. One more shift, and the wound will be completely healed.”
She nodded, and her relief was obvious in both her expression and the slight change in the scent of her pheromones.
“Take the baby and get out of here now. Go back to my house with her, since your place is shot up. Keep the gun with you, and keep her safe, but I don’t expect anyone to come after you. I still need to get the full explanation from this piece of shit, but in the meantime, I think you’ll be safe at my place. I’ll let you know as soon as I have information.”
To her credit, she didn’t argue or ask to remain. She simply brushed her hand against his as she nodded. “I’ll take care of Angel. If anyone tries to take her, I’ll shoot them.” She spoke with such confidence that it left little doubt she would carry through if the need arose.
Pride swelled in him at his mate’s aplomb and her calm handling of the situation. She could have chosen to break down into hysterics, which would have delayed his pursuit of finding Angel, or necessitated ignoring her if she’d been in such a fragile state. Instead, she’d acted as his backup, and now she was moving through the apartment with Angel’s car seat in one hand, the gun in the other. He kept his foot pressed against Hunt’s throat as he watched her leave, his gaze on Tim, who hadn’t moved. He held his breath as she stepped past the other man, but Crosby didn’t stir at all. He was well and truly unconscious, not playing possum.
As soon as the door closed, he turned his attention back to Hunt, easing the hold on his throat just slightly. “Why did you take Angel?”
&nb
sp; Hunt was clearly having a difficult time speaking, and his voice was raspy, but he didn’t ask to have the foot taken from his throat. Lucas wouldn’t have complied anyway. “She’s my daughter,” he rasped.
With a snort, he shook his head. “Try again, and the truth this time. We both know you don’t give a damn about that little girl. You shot Astoria before she’d even given birth, and you ordered someone to shoot up Libby’s store with the three of us inside, including your daughter. You might’ve donated her genetic material, but you’re not her father any more than the trendy table in the corner is. Why does Calderon want my daughter?”
“He’s big on family. He believes in loyalty and family values.” Deacon’s voice was rough, and he seemed to require more time between each word to catch his breath.
In case it was just a trap, or an attempt to disarm or distract Lucas, he didn’t lift his foot. “Okay, but what does this have to do with Calderon? And Angel?”
Deacon managed a small laugh. “You feds sure are in the dark. Javier’s my father. Illegitimate, but I’m his kid. He’s always looked after me and looked out for me, even though he couldn’t officially recognize me. I guess his wife was a shrew, and there are politics at play with other cartels, so he couldn’t officially claim me even after Lydia croaked.”
He shrugged, looking unbothered by the fact that his father hadn’t publicly claimed him, but his pheromones gave him away. There was a sharp tang of bitterness, and an old lingering scent of pain that had existed for so long it had integrated into his pheromone signature. It was simply sharper at the moment.
Lucas couldn’t feel any pity for him. “Why did you go after Angel?”
The other man licked his lips, which appeared cracked. “When Papi found out I had a baby with Astoria, he was angry I hadn’t taken her to raise to start with. He impressed upon me the importance of maintaining the familial connection, and he made it clear that if I didn’t get my daughter back into the fold of the Calderon family, I shouldn’t plan on breathing much longer.”