by Piper Vaughn
Rain battered the windshield and made his tires skid on the gravel. Lights flashed in his rearview mirror, and Avery’s throat spasmed in terror. Oh God. Was someone else leaving, or were they coming after him? Had Melnyk seen him after all? What would happen if they caught him?
Avery slammed down on the gas pedal and used one hand to search blindly for his phone while steering with the other. He’d call Dylan right now. He’d tell him everything. They’d go straight to the police, and then—
The sudden impact against his rear bumper flung Avery forward. A second strike shattered his rear windshield and in that second, Avery’s world devolved into nothing but chaos and pain. His hand slipped from the wheel, and the car spun out of control. It all happened too quickly for him to process. One second he was screaming and the next, darkness.
WOLFHOUND WASN’T where Dylan wanted to be tonight, except Avery was out with Jaden—something about neglecting his friends. Even though they’d been out with Jaden over the past few weeks, Avery said something about spending quality time together, just the two of them. Who was Dylan to argue with that? He’d pretty much monopolized Avery’s time since their argument.
Something niggled at him, though. Avery was still acting strange. Dylan knew he was keeping something from him, and his first instinct was to make Avery tell him, but they’d been down that road. Tomorrow, preferably after he fucked Avery into boneless relaxation, they’d talk. He would ask Avery what was going on and he’d tell him about the dead end with Snowflake. And Jesus, wasn’t he glad he hadn’t told Avery about the text. He’d be pissed if he’d prepared a strategy all week only to be left in the dark with no goddamned instructions.
Tapping the scarred wood of the Wolfhound’s bar, Dylan stared down at his phone for the umpteenth time today. Still nothing. What the hell was taking Snowflake so damn long to get back with him? Dylan didn’t think he was purposely avoiding him, otherwise why would he have sent the first message? But what if the party had been postponed for one reason or another? What if someone had caught wind of Avery’s little investigation? What if…?
He should text Snowflake just in case.
“Hey there, sexy.” The low tenor curled around Dylan.
“Not interested.” He didn’t even turn around as he took a swig of the lager in front of him. No need. He wasn’t here to pick anyone up and he wasn’t here to make friends. Strangely enough the only reason he was at Wolfhound was because it made him feel a little closer to his mate when they weren’t together.
They’d spent several evenings with the guys shooting pool and goofing off back in the corner. And aside from hitting a club (which, one—he had no desire to do, and two—if Avery saw him, he’d probably think he was either following him or didn’t trust him, and neither was true), there was no other option, unless he wanted to sit at home or at Avery’s loft. Alone. They’d spent plenty of time at both places, but he’d be all by his lonesome, wondering what Avery was doing.
So here he was. Chilling the fuck out at Wolfhound, getting hit on by every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wasn’t his mate.
Christ, he should just go home.
He ran a hand through his short hair and contemplated doing just that.
“What’s up, dude?” Lucas slid onto the empty stool beside him.
Dylan turned and gave him a tight smile. “Not much, just….” He glanced down at the phone again.
“Still haven’t heard anything?”
Guilt flirted with him once more, but he pushed it aside. Avery was going to be pissed when he found out the guys knew about the first message when it took so long for Dylan to fess up to him. Shit.
“Nah. Not yet.”
“Where’s your man? I didn’t see him at the tables.”
A loud cheer came from where his friends played pool. Dylan turned to look, almost expecting to see Avery jumping up and down, his wiggling touchdown dance. Dylan smirked, remembering the first time Avery had pocketed a shot on his own. A hole in one, he’d called it. And still did, amid all the protests that he was thinking of a different game. His hedgehog was fucking adorable.
Lucas chuckled at their friends’ antics and eyed Dylan like he was expecting an answer.
Oh… “Out at some club with Jaden.”
A deep V formed between Lucas’s brows. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but all he said was “Huh. Jaden didn’t mention that earlier.” He said it in a nonchalant manner, but something about it bothered Dylan.
Jaden had come by the shop earlier to have his brakes changed. It wasn’t something they usually did at Green’s, especially on a sports car, but he was the alpha’s son, and, more importantly, he was Avery’s best friend. The longer they were together, the more their friends mingled. And well, brakes were brakes.
Dylan had talked to Jaden for a bit while Luc changed his brakes, but not about anything specific. And no, now that he thought about it, Jaden hadn’t mentioned his plans with Avery, but it’s not like Dylan and Jaden talked about that kind of stuff. But the concern in Luc’s voice mixed with the mystery of Avery’s secrets and the lack of communication from Snowflake had Dylan picking up his phone to type out a quick message.
Still no info???
He hit send then set the phone back on the bar and watched it like it was going to bite him. Something was wrong. None of it added up.
“You okay, D?” he sounded worried, but Dylan didn’t try to soothe his friend, not that he could. He was losing his fucking mind, scenarios flitting through his head like a nonstop horror movie.
His phone whistled.
SF: Told u 2 lose my #
Dylan: I will… as soon as you send me the place and time.
Dylan’s heart was in his throat. What the fuck?
Another notification chimed.
SF: Sent 2dys ago.
SF: Get lost.
Dylan couldn’t breathe. All of a sudden, Avery’s secret, Lucas’s confusion, Snowflake’s silence—it all made sense.
His thumbs raced across the screen.
Dylan: Got lost in space. Send again.
Please, please, please. Dylan didn’t beg. Ever. For anything, but fuck if he wouldn’t get down on his knees and pray to prove all his suspicions were wrong.
The next message flashed on the screen. An address in Lake Oswego. Thirty minutes away. Motherfucker.
Dylan pushed away from the bar so quickly the stool tipped over and people around him scattered, but he didn’t turn around as he headed for the exit. Not even when Lucas started asking what was wrong and yelling for him to wait.
Ice-cold rain slapped him in the face as he stepped outside, still he didn’t stop. Slamming into his car, he scrolled his contacts until he found the one he was looking for.
One ring. Two. Three. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I can’t come to the phone. You should leave a message and wait by the phone until I call back.”
Dylan clicked off before the beep sounded. God, he hated that voice mail greeting. He dialed Jaden, who picked up after the first ring.
“Hello,” Jaden laughed into the other end of the line. It sounded like he had company. Hope twinged in Dylan’s chest.
“Jay, let me talk to Avery.” It was rude and demanding, but Dylan didn’t have polite and coaxing in him right now. Panic was threatening to swallow him whole and only one thing could fix it. Avery.
“Um….” Confusion laced his tone. “He’s not here, Dylan.” Then quieter. “I’m, um, I’m at home.”
Dylan didn’t exactly believe the last part, but he would have no reason to lie. Would he?
It didn’t take long until he was in his car and peeling out of the parking lot. “Have you heard from him today?” he asked, taking a corner too fast but not daring to tap his brakes.
“No.” Jaden sounded nervous.
“What do you know?”
“I… I don’t….”
“C’mon, Jay. I think….” God, it hurt to say the words. “I think he’s in trouble, okay? I need you to tell
me whatever it is you know.”
“Trouble?” Jaden choked. “Like with Victor?”
“Worse.” Dylan tapped the brakes to make a left-hand turn then floored it.
“Worse?” Jaden whispered, voice trembling.
“Jaden? Come on, man. Talk to me.”
Three fucking blocks and he hit every goddamn stoplight. Why the hell did his mate have to live on the opposite side of town?
“I don’t,” he echoed his earlier denial. “I don’t know anything. Not really. Avery’s been acting strange for a couple of days.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“I just figured he’d talk to me eventually,” Jaden went on. “That’s how it usually happens, but this time he hasn’t mentioned anything. Not even when I asked.”
That’s what Dylan figured.
“Okay. If you hear from him, call me.”
After Jaden agreed, Dylan disconnected and dialed Avery again. No luck.
He screeched to a stop in front of Avery’s building and blasted out of the car. Avery had given him a key and the code to enter the building a week ago since they spent so much time at his place anyway. Dylan had never been so happy to have that piece of metal weighing down his key ring. Though he wasn’t averse to breaking into the building or Avery’s loft.
Flinging open the door, only silence surrounded him. He’d known Avery wouldn’t be there, but he’d hoped. Fear coursed through his body, landing like lead in his belly.
His phone rang, a symphony of bells echoing around the empty loft.
Unknown Caller.
He almost didn’t answer. He didn’t have time. He needed…. He squeezed his eyes closed to stave off the burn behind them. He needed his mate.
He answered anyway. What if it was Avery?
“D-Dylan?” The man sounded familiar, but Dylan couldn’t place his voice.
“Yeah, listen if it’s not important, I don’t have time for this.” He stormed out of the loft and down the stairs. No patience to wait on the elevator.
“It’s… it’s about Avery.”
Dylan’s steps faltered, but he caught himself on the banister, not losing speed. “What about him? Who is this?”
“It’s Otis. Otis Acker.” His answer sounded watery. “I think Avery’s in trouble. He was supposed to call me at ten, and it’s ten past and he’s not picking up his phone.”
Dylan could practically see the old man trembling as he spoke. He stopped in the lobby, staring out at the pouring rain through the glass doors.
He was going for calm when he said, “You need to tell me everything you know, Mr. Acker,” but he was sure he failed. Calm had fled his vault of emotions back at Wolfhound.
It didn’t matter. Once Otis started talking, Avery’s entire scheme came rushing out. It was stupid and reckless, and—son of a bitch—Dylan couldn’t breathe.
“I tried to talk him out of it,” Otis continued, tears staining his voice. “But he wouldn’t listen. Said he had to do it. He’s a good boy, but….”
“Hardheaded.” Dylan cringed at the wetness in his own voice. “I know.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, Mr. Acker. I’m going to Lake Oswego now to get him. If you hear from him—”
“I’ll call you,” Otis finished before Dylan could get it out.
WHAT SHOULD have been a thirty-minute drive took almost an hour with the downpour, the traffic, and the windy roads and missed turns. He’d phoned Lucas on his way out of the city to let him know what was going on. Lucas had already relayed to the guys Dylan’s running out of Wolfhound like the devil was at his back.
The house—estate, more like—was huge. The stone structure spanned what looked to be half a city block and sat right on the edge of the lake. It was monstrous in the dark. Dylan could only imagine how imposing it was in the daylight, like a minicastle minus the moat and drawbridge. Dylan studied the building closer, trying to figure out why it seemed so… off. Then it came to him. Besides the long-ass driveway being completely free of vehicles—which was odd for any sort of party, unless the guests arrived by way of the water—there were no lights on. Nothing from inside. He didn’t even pick up a sound, and from outside all he smelled were earth and surf with barely a lingering tinge of motor oil.
Undeterred, Dylan crossed the massive yard and walked up to the front door. It was open a crack, like the last occupant forgot to pull the door all the way shut. A chill raced up his spine and fear lanced through him. He knew what he found on the other side of that door wouldn’t be good.
Pushing through the door, Dylan eyed the dark entryway before flipping the light switch. Nothing. He stepped in, thankful for his superior night vision, otherwise he’d have to go back to the car for a flashlight. The interior was pitch-black and empty. Of everything. No people. No power. No furniture. He would have thought he either had the wrong address or Snowflake purposely led him to a dead end had the house not still been warm, from what felt like the heater. And among the fading scents of human and shifter alike, he thought he smelled the fleeting tang of elation and sweat, but before he could place it, it was gone. Intermingled with fear and arousal, he caught the fragrance of singed wood from more than one fireplace as he wandered room after desolate room.
Maybe Avery hadn’t come here. Maybe he’d changed his mind, realized it was a bad plan, and turned around. He could be at a club by himself or his phone could have died. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting in Dylan’s bed, wondering where the hell Dylan was.
Hope bloomed in his chest. Surely, Avery would have realized his mistake. Then a hint of Avery’s earthy sweet scent drifted around him, and Dylan’s world came to a halt. Like all the air was sucked out of the room, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His pulse thrummed in his ears, his heart pounded like a university drumline, and panic, more potent than anything he’d ever felt, crashed down around him.
He needed air. He needed home. He needed his mate.
Frozen in place, Dylan blinked out a picture window facing the lake, and he realized what he was feeling wasn’t entirely him. His chest screamed for air and freedom. Dylan was afraid—of course he was—but what he felt went deeper than his own being. It pulled tight at his connection with his mate. It hummed Avery’s distress. What Dylan felt was Avery.
Dylan dropped to his knees and sucked in breath after breath of thick, heavy air. Finding his center and controlling the raging emotions pummeling him from afar, he rubbed a hand over his heart. Awareness returned followed up by a fierce determination to find Avery.
Think, Dylan. What next?
Next? He didn’t have a “next” other than finding his mate and ripping apart anyone who got in the way. But he couldn’t do it alone.
Dylan picked up the phone and dialed without further thought.
When the other line clicked, he didn’t even wait for his friend to say anything.
“Lucas,” he whispered, “I need help.”
Chapter Eighteen
WHEN AVERY woke, it felt like someone had taken a chisel to his forehead. Disoriented, he propped himself up on his elbows and tried to process his surroundings. The area around him was dimly lit and smelled of unwashed bodies and motor oil.
Avery blinked. Where the hell am I?
For a few minutes he couldn’t recall anything. Why he hurt. Why he was dressed in his most expensive suit. How he’d gotten here… wherever “here” was.
Bit by bit, the events of the day began to trickle back into his consciousness. He remembered making his deliveries, visiting Mr. Otis, dressing and going to that auction. Detective Melnyk. Leaving that lake house in a panicked rush, and then… nothing.
Obviously something had happened between his walking out that front door and ending up in this dank little cell. He struggled to think, seeking the memories, but it was like a blank canvas. Just… empty space.
Avery sat all the way up and groaned when the motion sent a crashing jolt of pain through his skull. He doubled over, heaving as nausea overwhelmed him, but there
was nothing in his stomach to bring up.
When the queasiness eased, he straightened slowly and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. He looked around, taking everything in. The overhead lights flickered dully, and the stacked crates Avery could see beyond the bars of his… cage… cast heavy, ominous shadows.
Oh fuck. Where had he been taken? Was he even in Oregon anymore? Was it still nighttime?
No doubt Mr. Otis had called Dylan by now. He was a responsible wolf. He would’ve alerted Dylan the moment Avery missed his deadline. But how long had it been since then?
Avery searched his pockets for his phone, but both it and his wallet were missing. He furrowed his forehead. Had they been taken by whoever grabbed him? No way of knowing. If they had, now they knew his name and where he lived. Not that Melnyk couldn’t have found that information anyway.
Avery closed his eyes and groaned. God, what had he done? He might’ve put everyone he knew in danger by going to that auction.
A whimper from somewhere nearby drew Avery’s attention. Feeling sluggish and weak, he dragged himself off what he now saw was a filthy, lumpy mattress and crawled toward the front of his cell. And that’s what it was. There were bars like in a prison on all sides. Avery sat in the last one in the row. The cell to his right appeared to be empty, but the one across the aisle…. Yeah, there. He could make out the gleam of auburn hair and the form of a woman cowering on the floor.
“Hello?” Avery called softly. His voice came out as hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in weeks. “Are you okay?”
The woman didn’t stir.
“Are you hurt?”
Her head jerked toward him, and she made a shushing motion, her expression stark with terror.
Avery pressed himself against the bars and tried to get a good look at her. Something about her seemed familiar. He’d seen her recently… but where? “What’s your name?”
She shook her head and turned away, ignoring him.
And like that, Avery recognized her. Frat Boy’s girl. The pretty redhead he’d followed out of Howl and into that alley several weeks ago.