My Captive Valentine

by Elyce de Reefe

  Chapter 22

  Mike snuck another look out of his hospital room window, but there was no sign of Ricky and his buddies. Inside the building already then. Damn. He peeked outside the hospital room door, but as expected, the guard was gone.

  Not every officer on the police force was dirty, but there were always some. And Big Lonnie and Ricky the Finger always knew people who knew people, who knew who they were. The Finger. So-called not because he liked to give the finger. No, Ricky was more in the habit of taking them. And if Mike hadn’t just gotten up to take a leak, he’d be lying in his bed right now, on his back and defenseless for whatever was coming next.

  I wish Daniel were here. I could use a man like that now.

  Mike grimaced and shot a look around his room. What the hell should he do? He could hide in the bathroom, but that seemed very undignified. If he was gonna buy it here and now, he'd rather not do it in the john. Maybe he could hide. Maybe he could gain a little time that way. But there really wasn't any place to hide. He could duck behind the privacy curtain, but it would take them about a second to find him there. He peeked back outside the room. He’d just step outside. The guard was gone.

  But it was too late. He could see the three men coming down the hall. Shit! He looked around wildly, but the best he could come up with was placing the bed between him and the door. He started hobbling that way, but he didn’t quite make it before the door swung quietly open and three men stepped inside— wearing flashy suits and belligerent expressions.

  “Mike, we heard yous was awake. You don't contact nobody? Why is that? I heard the cops were here an’ everything.”

  “I didn't tell them nothin,” Mike said. “I told the guy I couldn't remember shit. Check the records. I didn't say jack.”

  “Yeah, well, Big Lonnie wants to make sure it stays that way. Unfortunately, Mike, you just became a liability.”

  Mike shifted to the side, trying to prepare himself. But there were three of them, and he was barely walking with a walker. The doctors were amazed at how fast he was progressing, but that didn't mean he wasn't still a ninety-eight-pound weakling.

  Might be able to launch the thing at one of them. But that still left him with two.

  Where the hell is this Jesse guy?

  Ricky raised his hand, and Mike saw he’d been holding a gun down by his side, with a silencer attached. So that was it. They wanted to send a message. Let everybody know this was a mob hit. He sucked in a breath. He wasn’t going to beg. It wouldn’t do any good.

  “Turn around,” Ricky said.

  “No,” Mike shot back. He wasn’t going to make it easy. If Ricky wanted a back-of-the-head shot, let him come over here and do it.

  Ricky narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I don’t got all day.”

  Just then, the door swung open with a crash, knocking Ricky aside. A lean man came in like Bruce Lee or something— if Bruce Lee were blond. He took out one guy with a flurry of kicks and chops, and then turned to the second.

  Mike launched his walker at Ricky, who was taking aim at the new arrival. It caught him right on the chin, but without enough force to actually make much of an impact. It was enough to make him turn his gun back to Mike though.

  Shit!

  But the blond man, who had to be Jesse, kicked the back of Ricky’s knee, making it buckle. Ricky went down cursing but managed to turn and fire.

  “Fuck!” Red blood appeared on the left side of the lean man’s abdomen, just above his jeans. He clapped a hand over it and lurched to the side. Mike didn’t know a whole lot about anatomy, but he thought that was a bad place to get shot.

  The other two men were picking themselves up about then, and Ricky jerked his chin at the shorter one.

  “Grab the kid, numb-nuts. I ain’t got all day. Now, Sal. I gotta repeat myself?”

  The shorter man grabbed Mike roughly by the shoulders and forced him to his knees. Mike gritted his teeth. This was it. He wouldn’t even get to thank the blond man for his trouble.

  Ricky turned back to the blond, gun first, obviously intending finish him off. But the man was still upright, leaning against the wall. Just like that, he launched himself at Ricky. Mike didn’t see what happened, he was too busy throwing himself to the side. A shot hit the floor inches from where his head had been a split second before.

  There was a clatter as someone’s gun hit the floor.

  “Fuck!” Ricky hissed, shaking out his hand. “Franco. Shoot the motherfucker, already.”

  Franco, the taller of the other two men, raised his weapon, but Mike grabbed his ankle from under the bed, where he’d landed, and yanked. He didn’t have much strength left, but he had adrenaline on his side, and the man went down with an “ouff.” There was the sharp pop of a silenced shot, and then his gun skittered against the wall.

  The blond man pushed himself up from a crouch, leaning against the wall and still holding tight to his bleeding abdomen. But he was holding a gun in the other hand, and he was pointing it straight at the man who’d just tried to shoot Mike. The only one who still had his weapon.

  “I think this party’s over, gentlemen. And I suggest you leave.”

  There was a tense moment. Mike lay still under the bed.

  “Now!” the blond man barked, and the one word cracked like a whip.

  And then the welcome sound of sirens at close range got everyone’s attention.

  “Oh shit! The police!”

  “We gotta get outta here!”

  “Take care a’ the kid first, Sal.” That was Ricky.

  “Don’t even try it, Sal.” The man was still holding one hand clamped to his side, but the other held the gun unwaveringly on Sal.

  Ricky made a dive for his gun, but the blond man kicked it away. It skittered under the bed. Mike made a snatch for it but missed, and it sailed by, crashing into the wall behind him.

  After that, there was a scuffle as Ricky and Franco tried to leave at the same time. Sal backed out slowly after them, gun raised.

  “That’s right, nice and easy,” the blond man said.

  Sal exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him. There was a sudden shout out in the corridor, followed by the pop of a shot, then screaming. Mike assumed the hospital staff had finally arrived to check out the commotion.

  The lean man limped over and locked the door.

  “I’m Jesse,” he said, turning. “A friend of Gage’s.”

  Gage? “Mike McCaffrey,” Mike said, pulling himself painfully from under the bed. “Uh… nice to meet you.” He blew out a breath. “Thanks man.” And then, because he couldn’t help it, “Do you think you could teach me to fight like that?”

  “Sure thing, kid. Just excuse me for one minute.” And with that, he slid into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Mike just stared at the door. What the fuck? “Um, you need help? Want me to call a nurse?”

  The man had been shot in the stomach.

  “Nah. I’ll be right out.” His voice sounded strained. But about three minutes later he appeared again, holding a towel to his abdomen and carrying another over his shoulder. “Hand me that sheet, would you, kid?”

  Mike stared at him, mystified, but he indicated the bed with his chin. Mike hobbled around and threw him the top sheet. Jesse tore it with his teeth and started winding it around his body. “Tie that,” he said, indicating the ends.

  Mike did as instructed. “Don’t you want to call for a doctor?”

  “No can do. Help me with the blood.” He went back in the bathroom to wash his hands while Mike just stood there. And then he came out with a wet towel and started wiping the blood from the wall he’d been leaning against. “Come on, kid. We’ve got to move.”

  “Why?” It was a hospital for God’s sake. They were used to blood.

  “Because this is going to be a crime scene in about five minutes, and one thing those crime guys love more than anything is blood.” He met Mike’s eye and gave him a significant look. “And we don’t want them to find any.�
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  Mike’s mouth dropped open. “It’s in your blood?” He almost whispered the question.

  “Yeah, kid. It’s in the blood. Now move.”

  Mike grabbed the bottom sheet from his bed and started wiping up any drops on the floor, using the walker to help him balance. Mostly the blood was on the wall, and Jesse was taking care of that.

  The door rattled, making Mike jump and he almost lost his grip on the walker.

  Daniel’s face appeared in the rectangular window and Mike let out his breath in relief. He shuffled over to open it.

  Daniel came in and pulled Mike into an embrace. He froze. He was not a hugger.

  He was followed by two men, one dark and one light-haired.

  “You okay, Mikey?” Daniel sounded breathless. “We got here as soon as we could.”

  “Fine,” he wheezed out past a suddenly clogged throat. He pulled away.

  “Not to worry,” Jesse put in. “Me and the kid handled things,”

  Mike felt a jolt of pleasure at being included so casually. Not that he’d done much, but man, it felt nice to be acknowledged.

  “You really okay, kid? It’s good to see you on your feet.” Daniel was examining him carefully.

  Mike nodded, not feeling up to actually talking.

  “I think you’re going to have to come back with us now, Mikey. Is that okay? I don’t think it’s safe here anymore.”

  “Uh, yeah,” he said. “That sounds good.” It sounded better than good. He leaned back against the wall. His legs were shaking from all this standing. He shuffled sideways to lean his butt against the windowsill. “Where—” he broke off when movement outside caught his attention.

  “Hey, anyone know a tall chick with red hair?” he asked, just as Daniel’s head snapped up.

  “Bridget,” Daniel said.

  “Cause two guys just dragged her from an SUV.”

  Daniel charged over to the window, took one look, and smashed the glass with a backhanded blow of his forehand.

  “Bring my son,” he said, and went out the second-story window feet first.

  “Eli,” the tall dark-haired man said, nodding toward the window. And the blond man who’d accompanied Daniel followed him. Right out the window.

  Holy shit.

  “Let’s go,” the dark-haired man said. “Jesse, you good?”

  “Yup.”

  “Grab the walker.” And with that, he swung Mike up over his shoulder and went out the door. It was not a comfortable way to travel. Especially when they got to the stairs. But that wasn’t what was topmost on his mind.

  “Are they going to be okay?”

  “Sure, kid,” the dark-haired man answered.

  But he didn’t sound sure, and Mike had his doubts.

  ***

  Bridget closed her eyes, trying to feel through the bond. Gage had leapt out of the car as soon as it pulled to a stop at the hospital parking lot, followed by Cray and Eli.

  “Stay here,” he shouted over his shoulder. Bridget knew somebody had to stay with the wolves, you couldn't leave five wolves alone in a car in a hospital parking lot— even if it was five in the morning. But still, she didn't like being left behind. It was nerve-wracking.

  She could feel Gage's anxiety blasting through the bond. It was weird really, the emotions seemed to boomerang down the bond, slamming her emotions with his, and then zooming back up to him, amplifying each time. She struggled to control her breathing as Gage’s anxiety grew. At one point she thought her heart would stop— and then suddenly it quieted.

  Bridget let out a deep breath and started to relax. In the next second, her passenger window exploded in with a bang, and her eyes flew open. Pebbled safety glass rained down all around her and Bridget had a sudden vivid memory of the car accident. And just like then, a hand came in, unlocking the car door and dragging her outside. She screamed.

  A sudden blast of new fear shot down the bond, making her even more alarmed. Her eyes flew to the side of building, and just like Gage had said, she knew exactly where to look. She just had time to see his long, lean form come flying out of the second-story window before the man yanked her hard around the car and she lost sight of him.

  “Where are you taking me?” She tried frantically to turn, to see— Was Gage okay? Oh, God, that was a second-story window!

  The bond was a tangled mess of fear and panic, she couldn’t get a thing from it. The man dragged her across the parking lot, gripping both her upper arms in vise-like grip that she couldn't break. She tried to wrench away, but then another man was there. He took hold of one arm and together they dragged her—kicking and screaming—across the wide deserted parking lot.

  “Come on, it's her,” one of them was saying.

  “Tall redhead. Got to be,” the other replied.

  Who? What? But Bridget was too busy trying to get a glimpse around a stupid Ford pickup— Was he okay? She’d know if he’d been hurt— wouldn’t she?

  “Greg’s going to wet himself,” the first man continued.

  “I know! This is it.” The second man sounded even more excited than the first. “Days of watching this place, but we finally got our payday.”

  They dragged her around a blue sedan, and then up behind a white paneled van parked near the entrance to the parking lot.

  “Greg, we got the girl,” the first man said.

  A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a gray beard had been watching them out the driver’s side window. He looked disgusted.

  “That's not her, you idiot.”

  “What do you mean it’s not her?” the second one argued. “You said tall. Redhead.”

  “I said tall-ish,” the bearded man said. “That girl’s a giant. You don't think I would've mentioned that?” He shook his head. “I can't believe this. Did you even look at the picture I sent you?”

  The first man looked at the other man. He shrugged. “It kinda looks like her.”

  Bridget was having trouble believing what was happening. She’d been kidnapped by a bunch of imbeciles. But she really wasn’t paying that much attention because the tension along the bond was enough to make her hyperventilate. She was still trying to get a glimpse at the front of the hospital— She leaned forward a little, trying to look through the van’s windows—

  “It’s not her. Believe me.” That was bearded guy.

  She tried to yank away again, but no go. The raw emotions ping-ponging through the bond were making her sick.

  “So now what?”

  She was only half-listening, but the bearded man shook his head, catching her eye. He still looked disgusted. “You’ll have to kill her.”

  Bridget felt her stomach lurch. One of the guys pulled out a gun. What? They were going to shoot her? Just like that?

  “Not here, you idiot. Take her up there by those trees.” He indicated a patch of landscaping ringing the parking lot. The man turned, and the other one started pulling her that way—

  And then Gage was there, slamming into the man holding the gun. He wrapped one hand around the back of the man’s neck and bashed it into the van. The man dropped like a stone. Then Gage spun and with a sudden concussive motion, punching the one holding her in the face before he could react. Fury blasted down the bond like an avalanche, choking her. Gage pulled her away and thrust her at Eli.

  Bridget blinked. Where had Eli come from? She was still trying to make sense of things when her knees buckled and the world went black.

  ***

  Gage wrapped his hand around the human’s neck and squeezed. He could hear someone running up behind him, but he ignored it. How dare this man try to harm his mate? The man with the gun was already on the ground, unconscious, but this one had had his her hands on her. Gage squeezed harder, watching the man’s face turn from dark red to purple, and his eyes start to bulge. Fury obliterated all thought.

  “Gage,” Eli called. “Ease up, man.”

  Gage ignored him too.

  “Shit,” Eli said in a different tone entirely.
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br />   Gage’s head snapped up as he lost contact with Bridget through the bond. He dropped the man to the ground and turned.

  Bridget lay limp in Eli's arms. He took two steps and gathered her into his arms. “Bridget,” he said gently into her hair. “Bridget, ma puce.”

  Just then, a man slid to a running stop in front of them. He had his badge out in in one hand, and the other on his holstered weapon. “Police. Detective Anderson, Plattsburgh PD. What's going on here? What happened to that woman?”

  Gage regarded him with a scathing glance. “This woman is my wife,” he said, using the human term. “These criminals tried to steal her.” He indicated the two men lying on ground and the white van peeling out of the parking lot with his chin. “Why don't you go catch them? I’ve already taken down two of them, but I believe the man in the van is the one you've been looking for.”

  Bridget was stirring in his arms now, and he glanced down at her. “Comment ça va?” he whispered, staring anxiously into her face.

  Beside him, Detective Anderson swore. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a quick picture of the retreating van. “Don't go anywhere,” he snapped. “I'll be right back.”

  Fat chance, Gage thought. Bridget gave him a soft smile. Thank the Maiden. “You are well, ma petite?”

  “Gage.” She reached up a tentative hand and stroked his face. “You jumped out of the window. I was so scared.” Her face changed. “I hate this stupid bond. It almost made me lose my mind.”

  “I know, my darling. I'm so sorry. I should have controlled it better. Lore Master Renau instructed me that would take concentration, but I was too worried to even think of it.” He brushed her hair back, smoothing it down with his hand. “Let's go home. I want you back on pack territory where I know you’ll be safe.

  “Okay,” Bridget said, leaning against him as they walked quietly to the Jeep. Gage swore under his breath in French when he saw the broken window. As they approached the door, a furry grey head poked out, and before Gage could pull her back, Smoke was halfway out the window, whining and licking her hand, her arm, everywhere he could reach.

  Bridget stepped back, laughing and wiping her arm on her coat. “Nice to see you too, Smokey.”