Fighting For Their Mate (3 page)

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Bailey cracked open her eyes and blinked at the harsh overhead light. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten dirt, and then the image of that wolf surfaced, dredging up more fear. She swiped her tongue across her gritty teeth, but it didn’t do much good. She needed water.

She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move.
What the hell?

Oh, my God. Her wrists were strapped down, as were her feet.
Where am I?

Tatum! Oh, shit. Where is she?

Bailey twisted her head, and a sharp ache stabbed her behind the eyes. Alone in the room, she turned her head in the other direction to get her bearings, but things weren’t making any sense. Why was she constrained and why wasn’t there a window in the tomblike room? Her body twitched as the image of that wolf appeared again. God, but he was creepy. Had she hallucinated him? Was she still imagining things? Could this be some kind of terrible dream? The pain in her head and the ache in her belly were very real, making her think this nightmare really happened.

Bailey needed help. “Hello? Anyone there?” She held her breath, straining to hear other sounds, but silence blanketed her.

Brad!
He did this to her.

Her mind slowly recreated the last series of events. He and Tom had come into their hotel room. Bailey remembered that much. She’d yanked the blanket up to her neck so they wouldn’t see her half-undressed body. Brad had rushed over to her bed and raised his arm. That was when she spotted the needle. The stab came before she could scream. Then blackness descended and she woke up here. Wherever the hell
here
was.

Panic clawed at her gut, but that only made matters worse. She needed to keep her wits about her if she had any hope of getting out of there. She wasn’t back at her parents’ house, and this sure as hell wasn’t a hotel. While the sheets appeared clean, the bed was like what one would see in a hospital.

Oh, shit. An IV was taped to the back of her hand. She ran her gaze up to the source where the liquid was clear. Saline? Bailey squinted and read the name on the bag. Yup. Why, though? Had she been in an accident and didn’t remember crashing? If she’d been injured, why was she strapped down? Had she struggled and the restraints were for her benefit? She hoped that was the case as the alternative was far worse. Bailey struggled to get loose again but made no progress.

Anxiety raced up her veins, and the monitor behind her beeped more rapidly at her elevated heart rate. Shit.

Breathe
. She tried to focus on her yoga teacher’s soothing voice. By closing her eyes, Bailey was able to picture herself in the darkened, warm room on her mat. Her pulse slowed. It worked. Sort of.

Confused, frustrated, and scared shitless, she dropped her head back, trying to catch her breath and sort things out. The picture turned bleaker the longer she waited. Without a window, she had no idea what time of day it was. This was ridiculous. She didn’t belong here. There had to be a mistake.

“Can anyone hear me?” she yelled as loudly as she could, desperately needing answers.

No one came.

She craned her neck and spotted a call button, but she couldn’t reach it. This was some kind of facility. Only what?

Bailey’s heart jerked when the door clicked open. A pretty, young woman with neatly pulled back auburn hair entered, and Bailey’s pulse evened out. She thought the old-fashioned white uniform was a bit odd, but what did she know?

“Where am I?” Bailey asked.

The woman, who was about Bailey’s age, walked over to her. Her nametag read Clare. “How are you feeling?”

Bailey tugged on her restraints again. “How do you think I feel? I can’t move.” Her father’s words of catching flies with honey rather than vinegar penetrated her brain. “I’m sorry. Can you loosen these cuffs? Please.”

“I’m sorry, but only the doctor can do that.”

“Then can you call him? I want to go home.”

The nurse silently took Bailey’s blood pressure and temperature. She hoped that after this exam, the nurse would tell her what was going on. As soon as she finished, Clare pressed a few buttons on a display above Bailey’s head and walked out, using a key to unlock the door.

“Hey. Don’t leave me!” A sob bubbled up. The latch snapping shut seemed final. “I’m hungry. Please help me.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she’d never felt so alone in her entire life.

B
ailey had to get loose. For the hundredth time, she glanced around the room, searching for her clothes, for her backpack—for her phone. Her cell had a GPS tracker in it. If she could call her dad, he’d know what to do. Fuck, he was a goddamn US senator. He’d find a way to rescue her. Her father always claimed his worst nightmare was if someone ever harmed his family.

Bailey was certain that was what was happening. They’d drugged her and were planning to hold her captive until Dad paid the ransom. These people would tell her father not to involve the police, but he wouldn’t listen. He had a protocol to follow. She bet the FBI was setting up a trace on her dad’s phone right now, ready to learn where and when the ransom drop would occur. At any minute, they’d come into her room, hold a phone to her ear, and tell her to say something to prove she was alive. Then they’d do the same with Tatum.

The kidnappers would probably give her dad twenty-four or forty-eight hours to get the money ready, and within a few days, she’d be freed. The tension in her body eased at having figured out why she was there. The pounding headache unfortunately remained.

With that much figured out, she could focus on other things—like the fact she was thirsty and hungry. Most of all, she had to pee. Badly. She tried yelling for help a few more times, but all that got her was a sore throat. After a frustrating hour, she slammed her head against the pillow.

She must have dozed, because the next thing she remembered was Clare shaking her.

“Bailey, we need to move you now.” Clare unhooked the IV from the bag and capped it, then did the same on the other end.

Her eyes flashed open. Finally, human contact. “Can I pee first? I have to go.”

“Just a moment.”

Clare stepped outside and closed the door. What was wrong with these people always walking out on her? She swore it took ten minutes before the door opened again. This time, a man who had to be six-foot five entered the room. Was he the one who had her kidnapped?

Her eyes crossed for a moment. Bailey wanted to memorize his face for when she spoke with the FBI about her captors, but her vision didn’t seem to be cooperating.

Uh-oh
. If she could identify Clare and this giant, did that mean they planned to kill her? “Where’s my sister?”

The tall man, who hadn’t spoken a word, glanced over his shoulder. Clare pursed her lips and slightly shook her head. He looked back at her. “We’ll talk about it later. You said you wanted to use the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

As he carefully unhooked her straps, Bailey couldn’t drag her gaze from his hands. He had hair on the back of them, and his nails were really long and pointed.
Ew
. He wouldn’t be so bad looking if he got a trim. Even his face seemed to have a heavier growth from a moment ago. Or was she hallucinating again?

Yeah, that must be it.

As soon as she was free, she bent her knees and groaned. They ached from being in the same position for so long. Even flexing her stiff elbows hurt.

If she thought she could have gotten past him, she would have tried to fight, but with his shoulders wider than the bed, and having more muscles than any wrestler she’d seen, she didn’t dare try. She’d make her move when she had a better chance at success.

The giant slipped his hand behind her back and eased her up. Making friends with him might help her. “What’s your name?”

She wanted him to think she was attracted to him. Build his ego. Make him believe she’d do whatever he asked.

“Tyson.”

“That’s a nice name.” She wasn’t lying.

“Thank you. What’s yours?”

He didn’t know? “Bailey Nash.” Perhaps the name would sound familiar.

His eyes seemed to change color from a deep brown to a gold. The drugs must still be in her system. Eyes weren’t gold. He slid his hands under her legs and lifted her up. Whoa. Three long strides later, he set her down in the bathroom then clasped her shoulders. He didn’t let go until she could stand by herself. Holding onto the sink didn’t seem to count.

Only then did she notice the insignia on his shirt—Hoffman Furniture Security. He must have gotten it at Goodwill or something.

“I’m good.” She waited for him to close the door. She wasn’t going to pee with him standing there.

As if he understood her concern, he stepped out and closed the door. The thump implied he was leaning against it. Voices sounded. The nurse’s tone came out sharp, or perhaps worried, as if Tyson had treated Bailey too well or something. Whatever they were discussing, it didn’t sound good for the future.

While she took care of business, she searched every corner of the bathroom for something she could use as a weapon, but there was only a toilet, a shower without a curtain, a sink, a towel, and a bar of soap. There wasn’t even a mirror. Probably because glass could cut. Damn. When she finished, she washed her hands, and then knocked for him to let her out.

“I’m ready.”

Tyson opened the door and actually looked worried. “You okay?”

A litany of offenses were on the tip of her tongue, but she had enough sense to recognize that even if he believed her, he wouldn’t do anything about it. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Right now, you need to get back into bed. Do you need me to help you?”

“No. Thank you.” It was a bit unsettling having his hands on her. She wasn’t used to being so helpless.

Taking small steps, she edged her way across the room. The giant followed closely behind. She couldn’t tell if he thought she might fall, or if she might bolt. Escape was on her mind, but she had to find Tatum first. Bailey wouldn’t leave without her sister.

She turned around and eased onto the bed. Once she slipped under the thin sheet, he buckled her in again. Only this time, the hair on the back of his hands was absent.

I’ve definitely been drugged.

He tightened the straps. “Is that necessary?” Damn, her voice sounded whiney.

“Yes.”

“Why am I here?” This time her voice cracked.

“Don’t worry.”

Why could no one give her a straight answer? She wanted to punch something—only they wouldn’t let her use her hands.

Clare strode toward them. “I need to take her to the lab now.”

Lab?
“Why are you taking me to a lab?”

Clare’s face softened. “It’s standard procedure. We need to draw some blood and test it.”

“Why can’t you take it here?” Normally, she wasn’t the type to argue, but nothing was making sense.

What she wanted to ask was why take it at all? Had her dad requested the sample? Even if he had access to the FBI lab in Washington, they couldn’t test DNA that fast, could they? Did they even have her blood type or DNA profile on file? Her head spun and her stomach churned.

“It’s where all things are done.”

That made less sense. The nurse pressed her foot on something under the bed and it began to roll. She looked at Tyson. “You can leave now.”

“I can push her,” Tyson said. “She might try to topple the bed and you wouldn’t want that.”

The nurse furrowed her brows then hesitated, her gaze bouncing between the two. For some reason, Bailey thought it best to prove the giant right. She lifted up on her elbows and shifted her weight right and left. The bed tilted.

“Okay,” Clare said. “But watch her carefully. I don’t want to have to sedate her again.”

Fear kicked her in the gut. The only saving grace was that as soon as Clare turned her back, Bailey swore Tyson smirked as if he’d won some kind of victory. He then wheeled her out of the room.

She’d been taught what to do in a hostage situation, but now that it was happening, she couldn’t remember a fucking thing. As soon as she was in the hallway, all she could see was door after closed door. She might have concluded this was a hospital, but she didn’t spot a nurse’s station or names next to the doors. What was this place? And what was this lab?

Tyson placed a hand on her shoulder, and for some reason it helped calmed her. He didn’t appear to be in cahoots with Clare and that made Bailey feel a little bit better. As they passed one of the rooms, whoever was inside began screaming a string of profanities. Bailey couldn’t blame the woman. She felt the same way.

Shrieks came from the room. “You fucktard, get these fucking cuffs off me.”

Adrenaline pumped her up. Tatum was here! Bailey lifted up on her elbows then immediately dropped back down. She didn’t need anyone to realize she was aware of Tatum’s presence. Now, it wasn’t a matter of her escaping. She had to help Tatum get free, too.

The elevator door dinged and he slid her in. The numbers on the control panel read 1, 3, G, B1, B2, B3. Either she hadn’t had enough sleep or that drugged saline solution was doing a number on her head. This whole nightmare was almost sci-fi in nature, but she wasn’t ready to believe she’d been abducted by aliens. On the other hand, if all of the men looked as good as Tyson, she might be willing to stay—assuming they weren’t all hairy.