Chasing Trouble (3 page)

N
one of Val's
daughters hung around outside that I could find, and none of her sons loitered at the corner. I kept my head down and half-jogged a couple of blocks until I found a working pay phone. Lacey's was one of two numbers I knew by heart.

After a couple of rings, my heart thudded against my chest loud enough I feared Val might hear and track me down again for being chicken-shit. She didn't tolerate cowards, but she put up with liars. So I lied about being a coward.

I concentrated on keeping my breathing even and calm. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Two days. Plenty of time.

"Hello?" Her voice reached me, slow and sluggish. "Who is this?"

"Lacey? What the hell is going on?"

"Ellie? Where are you?"

"Where am I?" I slapped my forehead, glancing over my shoulder as something moved in the alley. "Lacey, what happened? Why haven't you called your mother? The money's gone and she's blaming me."

"Something went wrong." She sounded distant, her voice tinny. Confused. Maybe afraid. "I don't know where I am. It's dark. Smells wrong. And Cal isn't --" The words broke off, muffled. Static. Then loud banging.

"Lacey," I said, dread growing in my stomach. It was just a simple con. A quick scam. Easy. Nothing should have gone wrong.

"Someone else was there," she whispered. "I think they hurt Cal. Please, El -- help me. Please. You have to help --"

The line cut off.

I stared at the pay phone, dropped the handset. Turned in a circle to search the night. Lacey. She was really in trouble. My fingers shook as I dialed her number again. Straight to voicemail.

"Oh no," I said, and I reached out to balance against the phone box. Kept repeating it over and over, because nothing else made sense. I fumbled my cell phone and nearly dropped it, searching the contacts for a number. Cal. Maybe Cal knew what the fuck was going on.

His phone rang and rang, but eventually a cold voice answered. "What?"

"Is C-cal there?"

"Who's asking?"

"A friend of Lacey's. She's worried about him, can't --"

"That
bitch
." The next words disappeared in a snarl, only getting back to coherent after I cursed at the phone. The speaker's voice dripped derision. "That stupid whore tricked him, and some of her bitch friends jumped him. He's in a coma. He's not getting better, they shot him with something before they broke every bone in his body. So Lacey can go fuck herself, because as soon as we find her, she's dead."

I opened my mouth, words caught in my throat, but that line went dead, too. I closed my eyes. Cal in a coma, Lacey somewhere dark. And the hyenas and jackals on a collision course to war. A real war. And if their battles spilled into other territory, the rest of the shifters would be drawn in. Humans as collateral damage. It would be a bloodbath.

I left the phone off the hook as I trudged away, mind spinning and clicking along too slowly to match my feet. My head pounded. I kept shaking it but it didn't help. I took my hair out of the bun, thinking the tension maybe contributed, but I knew it was the mojo and rage and fear that had my vision sparking with floating white dots. Bad sign, that.

The walk back to the hotel took an eternity. If I told Val what happened, she'd kill me for helping her daughter scam her. Or she might kill me for getting her daughter for-real kidnapped. Or the jackals would kill me for contributing to Cal's beating and coma. Or maybe Benedict Chase would kill me for stealing his wallet.

My fingers felt numb as I pressed them against my eyes. The streets passed in a blur until I staggered in the rear entrance to the crappy hotel, wanting another shower. A hot shower. Maybe if I cranked the tap all the way, it would approach hot. And sleep. I couldn't think of ways to save Lacey and fix Cal on two hours of sleep over the last three days. It made me sloppy. I hated sloppy.

The door to my room opened without the key, and I frowned. It was still on the counter in the bathroom where I dropped it. I shook my head and walked in, leaning back against the door after it closed, and froze.

Benedict Chase, wearing the same suit and looking like a tall bit of delicious, stood near the window. His frown turned thoughtful, then concerned. "Eloise, are you okay? You look a bit -- peaked."

A laugh escaped before I could bite it back, and my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, still laughing. Damn the luck.

T
he hotel was worse
than he imagined, but a little better than Benedict feared. The front desk confirmed that a room was rented in his name; the clerk even gave him the number. He waited across the street in a coffee shop, sipping a cappuccino as he watched the moderate foot traffic through the lobby. Mostly people who looked like they only needed a room by the hour. He debated confronting her in the hotel, and had just made up his mind to do so when a pair of dark sedans rolled up.

Benedict kept his seat. There weren't many people in the city who went out and about in armored cars, and very few of them had any reason to be in that part of town for legitimate business. His eyebrows climbed to his hairline when he saw the older woman who got out of the lead car, followed by two shorter but stockier women. Valentina Szdoka.

He drummed his fingers on the table. What were the hyenas doing in this part of the city? Technically this territory belongs to one of the wolf packs, though they allowed the other predators to transit unchallenged during business hours. The queen of the hyenas came dangerously close to violating half a dozen treaties.

Benedict snapped a few photos of the hyenas with his phone, just in case he needed to bring it up with Logan later, and debated how long to wait before going after Eloise. The hotel floorplan gave him an idea of where her room was, and as he stared at the window, the curtains moved. Her face, pale and uncertain by the streetlight, called to him. She wasn't happy. Looked afraid or at least unhappy and concerned. His lion grumbled, started to pace in the back of his head. His girl needed help. Needed him.

He tried to shake off the feeling that she was his -- they'd had lunch together, that was it. And he'd bailed her out of jail. It was hardly the start of a solid relationship.

He answered the ringing phone without thinking. "Yeah?"

"How goes the stakeout?"

"Trouble," he said, never taking his eyes off that window. His chest tightened as he saw Val's hard-eyed face near the curtain. But he didn't tell Edgar that. The moment Edgar knew the hyenas were involved, he'd gather the storm troopers and clear the area. Send a message. He wouldn't tolerate them long enough to find out why Val Szdoka visited Eloise in a shitty hotel the same day he bailed her out of jail. And Benedict knew that running off Val meant Eloise would disappear as well. "But nothing I can't handle."

Edgar sighed. "You wouldn't tell me if it were bad, would you?"

"Probably not." Benedict managed to sound cheerful as Val and her troop of daughters exited the hotel, argued briefly, then got into their cars and sped away. He got up and headed for the hotel lobby. "So don't worry about it."

"Put a chain on your wallet, shithead."

"Thanks, dick." Benedict hung up and shook his head, avoiding the reception desk to take the stairs up to the second floor.

The door to her room stood open a crack, and Benedict took a deep breath. He eased inside, listening for any movement or breathing or ambushes. Nothing. He returned the door to its partially-open state and searched the room for any indication of what happened. The hyenas left through the front, but Eloise must have escaped out the back before he managed to get up the stairs. She was certainly quick on her feet.

Her clothes filled a bag in the corner, but it was a cheap paper shopping bag from a thrift store. His nose wrinkled. She could have at least used his credit cards to buy good stuff. New stuff. Something soft and plush against her skin. Lingerie, maybe. Benedict examined the bathroom, though he didn't dare touch anything -- suspicious mildew covered most of the tile and all of the shower, and though a hint of her scent lingered in the air, he felt better waiting on the stained carpet in the main room.

He didn't wait long. He heard her coming from the stairs, the uneven tread of her feet matched by raspy breathing. His heart started to pound -- she was upset. Maybe in trouble. Maybe hurt. His lion growled. She leaned through the door and shut it, eyes half-closed, but went still when she finally noticed him near the window. He cleared his throat and hoped he didn't sound like a fussy aunt. "Are you okay? You look a bit peaked."

She laughed at him, laughed hard enough she fell down, and he frowned down at her in consternation. Well, that was unexpected. The laugh turned almost watery, and Benedict moved slowly to help her stand. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm tired," she said, eyes dazed as she looked around. For once, she didn't avert her gaze or hide her face, and he loved it. Loved every line and curve of her face, the sensuous bow of her lips, the long dark eyelashes that brushed her cheeks as she blinked slow and often. Silver pooled and sparked in her eyes, mesmerizing, and his lion purred. Stretched and wanted to rub himself all over her to mark her. Whatever kind of nonhuman she was, it was his kind.

Benedict helped her stagger to the mattress, though he flinched as she stretched out on the comforter. No telling what types of evidence decorated the ancient, somewhat waxy fabric. But Eloise had no similar reservations, though she clapped her hands over her face. "What are you doing here?"

He took a breath and she sat bolt upright, eyes wide and throwing sparks. "Are the cops here? Are they coming? Did you turn me in?"

He held up his hands to stem the flow of questions, laughing a little as he lowered himself into the least objectionable chair at the foot of the bed. "Whoa there. No cops. I didn't report the cards stolen, if that's what you're worried about."

She exhaled a gust of worry and some of the tension faded from her expression. She flopped back onto the mattress, once more covering her face until her words came out muffled. "I'm sorry I took your wallet."

He laughed, leaning forward enough to catch hold of her ankle, thin and delicate in his hand. "No you're not."

A hint of a chuckle, following by a groan. "I am, really I am. I don't know why I do it sometimes. It just happens."

"That's usually what my brother says when I bail him out of jail, so at least this is something I've heard before."

She cracked an eye open and lifted her head to give him a jaundiced look. "I'm trying to apologize."

"Rather than give me platitudes," he said, squeezing her leg. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"I can't." Her legs moved a little, not quite kicking him away, but uneasy. He didn't release her. The lion wanted her to get used to his touch. She sighed and quieted. "You're a lawyer."

"See, most of the time when people hear I'm a lawyer, they tell me everything I never wanted to know about them." He watched the rise and fall of her chest, glad her breathing steadied and grew smoother, less panicked. At least she felt safe enough to take a damn submissive posture, sprawled out on her back with her soft underbelly exposed. "So let's start with something easy. What are you, exactly?"

"I'm tired," she said again, barely more than a breath.

"You know what I mean." Most lions had limited patience.

She went up on one elbow to study him, as if measuring his intentions. "I'm not a shifter."

"I didn't ask what you aren't, Eloise," he said, trying to find more patience when the lion only wanted to jump on the bed and curl up with her. On top of her. Cuddle her close until she smelled like him and those fucking hyenas left her alone. His lip curled at the thought of those fucking scavengers trying to strong arm his Eloise into anything.

"Big scary lion," she said with a yawn. She sat up enough to pull off her hooded sweatshirt, and though his heart jumped in anticipation, she wore a t-shirt underneath. It stretched across her small chest as she wormed around and kicked the covers back. "It's late. I'm tired and cold and just got some bad news about a friend of mine."

"Eloise..." His hands flexed on his knees. He wanted to pick her up and take her some place a lot nicer than this dump. A hotel with clean sheets and bathrooms that didn't look like a mad scientist's lab experiment.

Her eyes glowed in the half-light as she sat and eased to the edge of the mattress. Benedict sat back, almost unable to breathe. Beautiful. Her skin almost vibrated as she eased close enough that his hands settled on her waist, and she stood between his knees. Her head tilted to the side as she studied his mouth, the long dark ropes of her hair spilling down her back and across his hands.

"Benedict," she murmured, and it shot through his brain like electric current. Her knuckles brushed his cheek, and her eyes fixed his with a soul-searching intensity. "Dear Benedict. Are you also tired?"

"I could -- could sleep," he said, making his voice deeper for no reason that he could understand. All he could see was her eyes, quicksilver as mercury, and the rose tint of her lips. The flush climbing her cheeks. Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't remember what that was when she touched him.

She smiled, small white teeth even and nonthreatening. "Are you also cold, dear Benedict?"

He was. Suddenly he was cold enough to want to crawl into that bed and lay with her, skin to skin. Feel the warmth of her tangled up in his limbs. Eloise's head tilted to the side, a decidedly nonhuman gesture, and it nearly jolted him awake. He felt, in a sudden rush, hunted. As if he were prey. As if she were a scary, scary predator with the cunning to manipulate a lion into walking willingly into her trap.

And then her lips drifted across his and all that faded away to nonsense. He was a lion, after all. King of the jungle. Master of all animals. Fiercest of predators, as long as you didn't count the polar bears. Those motherfuckers were crazy.

"No, no, dear Benedict," she murmured, and then her weight balanced on his knees, her palms smoothing down his chest as she loosened his tie. She kissed his jaw, near his ear, and nibbled on his earlobe. "No thinking any other thoughts. Not now. Just think of me."

"Just Eloise," he said, and his grip tightened on her sides. Easy enough, when she was warm and wiggly in his lap. He smiled, sat back, and tried to remember why it might have been a bad idea. Nothing came to mind, particularly after she took off her t-shirt.