The Hero I Need: A Small Town Romance

by Snow, Nicole

Focus, Willow.

  How did I get so sick?

  Oh, right. Reality comes whipping back with guns drawn, dead set on reminding me how completely screwed I am.

  I will my eyes open and flinch at the pain that causes.

  In all of my adventures, being knocked out cold is a first.

  Same for being clobbered across the head with a baseball bat—a brutish surprise from a normally restrained backroom vampire named Niles Foss.

  I should’ve known his inner bully would come erupting out of him sooner or later.

  A groan sticks in my throat as I pry my eyes open. One is swollen and watery, casting this uneven blur over everything.

  “Coming around, I see. About damn time,” a woman snaps off.

  Priscilla’s voice.

  A blizzard of goosebumps prickle my skin.

  “Did you seriously think you could pull one over on us, young lady? You and your merry band of local yokels?” Her question drips rattlesnake venom.

  Fear sinks its teeth into my flesh, and I look around, trying to focus my eyes.

  Trying to figure out where the hell I am and also find Weston.

  “He’s over there, in the hay, in case you’re wondering,” Priscilla says with a bored sigh. “He’s still out. He fought a little harder than you. Niles and the boys got a good workout putting him down.” She lets out her nasty plastic laugh. “Don’t worry, doll, we’ve kept you all together—including your tiger friend. He’s in the pen with you and Mr. Lazy Bones.”

  What?

  It dawns on me then. I’m in the trailer. So is Weston, slouched on his side and breathing in slow, pained hitches, and a few feet away...

  Bruce.

  Holy shit.

  I don’t see any sign that they’ve hurt him, at least. Bruce looks at me with watery green-gold eyes, his thick tail banging the metal floor like a tree branch, as if to say, what the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?

  I wish I knew.

  Priscilla must be standing on a ladder or something because she’s looking down at us through the slats near the ceiling.

  “I do hope you fed him this morning, dear,” She laughs again. “Not that it matters. Sooner or later, he’s going to get awfully hungry. Or maybe just mad that you’re invading his space. Tigers can be rather territorial, you know.”

  My heart climbs up my throat. Bruce lets out a low growl I have to pray is meant for Priscilla.

  “Why, of course you do,” she prattles on, her devious smear of a smile visible through the slats. “You’re the expert on tigers, Miss Macklin.”

  If standing up and straining to reach the slats wouldn’t kill me right now, I’d do it just to stab out her eyes. But even turning my head up to look at her sends this odd, painful rush of blood to my brain, and the world spins.

  Oh, God.

  Bruce might not even get the chance to eat me if I have a concussion, if I’m bleeding in the brain from that blow to the head. It can’t end like this.

  I can’t help the dry, ragged sob squirming up my throat.

  “Now, now, don’t cry, missy. Not unless you’re whimpering at your own pathetic decisions. You know, you had it easy. All you had to do was go along, just this teeny widdle much—” Priscilla lilts, holding up her hand with her index finger and thumb barely an inch apart. “And you’d be living the good life right by our side.”

  “Go along with killing animals and selling them on the black market?” I snarl. “I’d rather die.”

  At the sound of my voice, Bruce lifts his head, looking at me and then at the taunting demon outside.

  “Ah, of course. You just had to take a big fat dump on everything. You had to feed your shitty little martyr complex—and feed it, you will. I’m afraid you’ll just have to settle for one lonely tiger rather than an entire den of lions like the Romans did back in the day.”

  I’m not too wrecked to scowl at her, wishing I could shoot lightning from my eyes.

  “Get fucked. You and your spineless, psycho worm of a husband,” I hiss.

  She leans back, gasping, pressing a hand to her chest like I’ve shot her through the heart.

  If only.

  Then she comes flying back at the slats, slapping the trailer loudly with both hands.

  Weston groans.

  Bruce’s tail thunks the floor, this time louder, becoming an irritated club.

  Fear stabs me through the rage. Even if his instinct is to protect me, there’s no telling what a Bengal tiger might do if he gets pissed and claustrophobic enough.

  “Better tell your kitty cat to calm down, dearie,” she snaps. “But here’s another question: do you have any idea how much a Javan rhino horn is worth?”

  Rhino horns? The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  “Someone’s coming,” a man snaps urgently.

  I can’t see out the trailer, but I recognize Niles’ voice.

  “Again? Damn it, what did I tell you? We don’t have time for this shit,” Priscilla whines.

  The clanking near the side of the trailer tells me she’s stepping down, and I gingerly rise to my feet, forcing myself not to fall from the dizziness.

  First I stagger over and check Weston’s pulse. He’s breathing and I can feel his heartbeat, slow but seemingly regular. There’s a nasty bruise running up the side of his head and dried blood under his nose.

  He’s alive and well, though, which seems like a small hope.

  Then I slowly scramble up on a wheel well and peek out one of the slats.

  We’re inside a building. A large one by the looks of it.

  “It’s the police, again,” Niles says sharply.

  “Wait here,” Priscilla tells him right before she disappears out of my vision.

  I hear a door open and close. Something scrapes the side of the trailer.

  Quickly, I lower myself back to the floor.

  Bruce is near the front of the trailer, watching me intently.

  I’m near the back door, and so is Weston, slumped against the sidewall like he’d just been hoisted up and thrown inside. I think we both were before they parked this trailer inside the mystery building.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been out, how long we’ve been here.

  But it must’ve been hours.

  More clanking sounds, and another ugly, pissed-off face looks through the slats.

  “Don’t make a single whimper or you’re all dead,” Niles whispers, drawing the words out like the snake he is.

  I lean my head back, trying to think of a way out of this trailer. Out of this mess.

  “Yeah, it’s kinda late for that. The FBI’s onto you, Niles.”

  His bitter laugh sounds just as soulless as Priscilla’s. “We know. They hit the sanctuary around the same time you arrived.” He chortles again—yes, flipping chortles. “But we aren’t there now, are we? And as fortune would have it, we’re going to ensure we make up our losses.”

  I try not to shudder or even guess what he means.

  I hadn’t taken a good look at the trailer earlier. Not when I was too focused on leaving Grady and my heart in pieces to think about much of anything.

  Now, though, as I look around...I realize there are large side windows that open—only from the outside.

  Crap.

  “I knew hiring you would be an asset one way or another,” Niles says matter-of-factly.

  My heart stalls. “You sure? Seems like I’ve brought you nothing but ruin, and I’m not sorry.”

  “You could have joined us,” he sneers. “Your connections would have made us all a lot of money, but you chose your pride, and pride goeth before a fall.”

  I roll my eyes, despising when he slips into his mask of civility and starts quoting literature or Bible verses. It’s a false, mocking, entirely twisted wisdom this man thinks he has.

  A door opens and closes again somewhere behind him.

  “Cook got rid of them, said she hadn’t shown up yet. Just a couple bumbling Barney Fife townies. Of course, Wilco ha
d his gun the entire time...” Priscilla says, pausing with what must be relief. “Is she still awake? Talking?”

  I frown at hearing the name Wilco, Priscilla’s brother. Probably the other big man I saw who knocked out Weston.

  “Yes,” Niles answers, climbing down. “Time to call her father.”

  ...Dad? What the hell?

  I stand up and climb back on the wheel well, looking down.

  Priscilla has a phone to her ear, pulling at her leopard shirt like it’s suddenly too tight.

  “Is it ringing?” Niles asks.

  “Quiet!” Priscilla barks back. Then come the words I dread. “Mr. Macklin, hi. You wanted to hear your daughter’s voice, and we can make that happen.”

  My heart slips into my gut.

  I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know it’s really Dad on the other end.

  And by now I’m sure he knows they’ve kidnapped me. That’s the whole reason they hired me in the first place, to play their dirty game and get agonizingly rare rhino parts from my father. When that didn’t work, it was onto Plan B: direct extortion.

  How stupid can a person be? I fell into their web from the start.

  “Is the transfer ready?” Priscilla asks again.

  My father says something, but his voice is too low and garbled for me to make out.

  “Hold on,” Priscilla says, walking toward the trailer.

  She sees me looking through the slat and freezes.

  I don’t bother moving.

  She steps up on something with an annoyed huff, so she’s eye level with me. Then she holds her phone out and clicks on the speaker button.

  “Tell your daddy dearest hello, Miss Macklin,” she says with a cruel smile.

  I pinch my lips together.

  “Willow? Willow!” Dad sounds frantic. “Are you there? Talk to me, honey. Talk to me!”

  Nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

  My eyes sting. My throat closes. My pulse slows to mud.

  “Willow?”

  Jesus, I can’t take it. I don’t want to go along with them. I hate being their hostage, but I can’t stand the sad desperation in my father’s voice.

  “Yeah, Dad, I’m here,” I whisper numbly.

  “Oh, thank God. Listen, you’re going to be fine, baby,” he slurs into the speaker through his fear. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll give them whatever the hell they want. Anything to get you home safe.”

  Priscilla jerks the phone away and steps down. Taking it off speaker, she holds it up to her ear again. “Yes, sir. As soon as the money hits our account, she’ll be released. We’ll drop her at a neutral pickup site where she can be collected by the local authorities, and we can all go about our merry way.”

  I’m going to be sick.

  Priscilla walks away, her ice-cold voice fading to nothing, and I can’t hear the conversation.

  My knees lose their ability to keep me upright and I slide off the wheel well, crumbling onto the floor.

  Bruce tilts his head and lets out one of his low purring growls.

  “It’s all right, dude,” I whisper, knowing full well nothing’s all right.

  Not anymore.

  “Wha...what the fuck?” Weston mumbles quietly, smacking his lips.

  I scramble over and plant my hand across his mouth.

  “Shhhh,” I whisper near his ear. “Pretend you’re out.”

  The poor man looks like he’s hurt worse than I am, and it’s better not to remind them they can do more damage. I’m also terrified how he’ll react if he opens his eyes and sees we’re trapped with Bruce.

  He twists, looking at me like I’m nuts. There’s a lump the size of a duck egg on the side of his forehead, rising from a stain of deep purple splotches.

  “W-Willow?” he whispers, a dry rattle.

  “Just rest, Weston. Please. They’ve got us locked up,” I whisper back. “But it’s only me they want, so if you’re quiet, if they forget you’re even here...” I trail off, feeling like I’m asking for another miracle that won’t manifest.

  Let’s be real, my track record with miracles lately kinda sucks.

  Also, the Fosses aren’t the whole reason why I want him keeping a low profile. Bruce may tolerate me in the trailer with him, but anything could happen if Weston—a total stranger—starts moving or freaking out.

  As if on cue, Weston’s eyes flutter open, slowly gaining focus as he stares at me. I lean over him, squeezing his shoulder, trying to obscure the tiger behind me.

  Yep, I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

  “Whatever you do, don’t move. Don’t scream,” I whisper slowly, ready to cover his mouth if I need to. “We’re in the trailer with Bruce.”

  His eyes nearly pop out of his head. He stiffens, panicked, but collapses again with a groan.

  “T-t-thefuckingtiger?” he rushes out in one word.

  “Yes. He won’t hurt you. Just stay still, be quiet, and as soon as I see the first chance, I’ll handle it,” I whisper, searching his icy blue eyes. “Can you do that?”

  He nods.

  “Okay. Good man,” I tell him, lifting one finger to my lips.

  He nods again, but otherwise remains stock-still, pinching his eyes shut.

  “Oh my fuck. Does everyone here have their heads up their asses? What do you mean it’s not working?” Priscilla shouts.

  I move back over to the wheel well and climb up quietly.

  “My mobile hotspot can’t get a signal,” Niles grumbles, stabbing desperately at his phone’s screen. “It must be this metal building out here in no man’s land. I need the hotspot function for the laptop to get online, and I need the computer to transfer the money to our holding place as soon as it arrives. Damnation, I’m going to have to go outside.”

  “Hurry it up, and don’t let anyone see you. Those cops could be back anytime,” she bites off.

  “I thought you said Cook got rid of them?” Niles asks.

  “He did. Just hurry, you idiot. I told Macklin he had thirty minutes to make the transfer. Otherwise, I’d be calling him right back so he could hear his daughter scream.” Something hits the side of the trailer—her fist. “You hear that, you little bitch? I wonder how that tiger would like a whiff of your blood?”

  I pinch my jaw shut, refusing to give her the slightest sound.

  “With great risks come great rewards. This plan is better,” Niles says in his arrogant tone. “You know how many cats we’d have to sell for this cash and a rhino horn worth an extra five million?”

  “Yeah, well, we should have asked for fifty million for all the trouble she’s been.”

  “Just calm down, love,” Niles tells her. “The instant I get that money moving and we can leave this godforsaken place, it’ll be off to paradise. We’ll say adieu to the United States by nightfall, free and clear.”

  The door opens and closes at the same time something thunks the side of the trailer again, this time so hard that Bruce stands, his angry eyes searching.

  I slowly climb down and take a step toward Weston.

  “Did you catch all that, you ingrate?” Priscilla shrieks, hitting the trailer again. “Your daddy’s paying us millions of dollars for his precious little daughter. Do thank him when you’re reunited in one piece—we hope.”

  The loud, angry thud must be more than her fist because it shakes the whole side of the trailer. Probably the baseball bat, and the booming discord definitely annoys Bruce.

  Her nasty cackle does her no favors with a livid tiger, echoing off the roof of the building and darting back down to the trailer. Bruce’s teeth shine in the dim light.

  “You’d better hope daddy dearest keeps his word! Because if he doesn’t...there won’t be anything left of you to bury,” she says, finally taking a break with the bat. “By the time someone finds you, your little kitty there will have enjoyed quite the feast.” She laughs again, a monster too in love with her own sick voice. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your frie
nd. Why, maybe we’ll start with him, a nice, big cut of meat like that would—”

  “Fuck!”

  I snap my neck around to look at Weston, who now has his hand over his mouth.

  But the deep, angry growl that echoes through the cavernous space has me twisting back to Bruce, now arching his back in a defensive stance, swinging his head from side to side.

  Uh-oh.

  “Crap,” I whisper, copying Weston’s sentiment. Holding up both hands, I make eye contact with Bruce and hold it.

  “We’re okay,” I say cheerfully. “Everything’s cool.” Far more afraid for Weston than myself, I move closer to him. “See, Brucey? No big ruckus here. Just lie down. Relax.”

  Slowly, back legs first, he lowers onto the floor with his anger in his eyes softening to resignation. Really, lady?

  I know, I think to myself, wishing we shared a psychic link. I don’t believe it either but...please. Please stay calm just a little while longer.

  “That’s it, Buddy. Niiice and easy.” I back up slowly, keeping myself in front of Weston. “Have a nap. When you wake up again, I’m sure everything will be just peachy.”

  “Having trouble in there?” Priscilla asks softly. And even before she speaks again, I know what’s coming next. “Hey, maybe this will help!”

  The bat slams the side of the trailer as hard as she can swing it, reverberating through the metal walls like a huge clashing cymbal.

  Bruce bolts back up, unleashing a snarl that could rival a cannon’s boom.

  I die a little inside then because I know it’s about to get worse.

  For some insane reason, all I can think of is Grady again.

  If I’m about to get bitten in half, then I want to go out with my mind full of eyes like brown sugar and a warm, strong smile I don’t deserve.

  Maybe in the next life.

  Maybe then I’ll be free to fall in love with Grady McKnight.

  22

  Tyger, Burning Bright (Grady)

  The pilot puts the helicopter down on the road leading to the refuge.

  At this point, I don’t even give a shit if we’re blocking it.

  The instant the landing slides hit the ground, I’m bounding out the door, locked and loaded with the sniper rifle I’d pulled from my truck. Faulk is right behind me, head down due to the wind from the blades.