Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (9 page)

When she tried to pop the trunk, she found the trunk release had been removed.
And the lights seemed to be secured, because she couldn’t get to the wires or the plastic tail light cover. Again, she wished she had paid more attention in self defense class. Had they covered this type of thing? Probably not, because
who got locked in the trunk of a car?
She couldn’t phone for help. Her cell was in her purse, which was with the European-shod men riding in the front of the car. She was stuck.

More than two hours
after she’d been dumped in the trunk, the Goon Squad—as Lizzie had dubbed them in her head—pulled on to an unpaved but relatively smooth road, drove a number of miles and stopped. A few seconds later, the trunk lid popped open and two of the men pulled her out.

The third man addressed her calmly.
“You may scream if you like, but no one will hear you.” Lizzie considered how long the car had traveled on the dirt road and decided he probably wasn’t lying. She remained silent, her wide eyes watching him as he spoke.

“We will bind you and place a cloth in your mouth, but if you create too much noise it will become simpler to drug you. You understand?”

Lizzie nodded, too worried to even voice a “yes.” Her mouth was drying out just thinking about the possibility of a gag.

Lizzie really did not want to be drugged and unconscious while under the control of these men. Each was easily well over six feet and broad. Dressed in jeans,
polos and baseball caps, they looked like they were trying a bit too hard to blend in. On the shoes they failed, though—not new, but newly polished, and a dress type not commonly worn with jeans. Each had very short hair, as well as a fit and muscular build. Goon #1, the one who spoke, was a little broader and shorter and had dark hair. 

They all acted with
calm efficiency. The kind acquired through experience. Lizzie didn’t like to ponder what type of experience these men might have, to create the competence she’d seen. She reminded herself that she’s a glass-half-full kind of gal, and the darker turn her thoughts had taken after riding in the trunk for a number of miles was something to be squashed like a tiny little bug.

O
n her nod, the men made quick and efficient use of zip-tie cuffs for her hands, duct tape for her ankles, and a clean—
thank you
—bandanna for a gag.

Lizzie was thankful she had taken her allergy medicine today. What would she do if she couldn’t breathe through her nose?
She reminded herself that thoughts like that would only make her panic, so she tried to stay calm and focus on her environment and the Goon Squad. And that was when she realized they spoke amongst themselves in a language most definitely
not
English. Lizzie had noticed a slight accent when Goon #1 spoke earlier, but she hadn’t focused on it. Now that her brain was recovering, she realized she had her first clue.

What her captors likely didn’t know was
that Lizzie had dated a really nice German man right after graduating college. That was back when she willingly dated without being constantly harassed by Kenna to meet men. Rainer was a lovely man for a number of reasons, but the one Lizzie was especially thankful for now was his patience. Rainer spoke fluent English. Even so, when Lizzie expressed an interest in German, he’d suffered through her poor grammar and twangy, nasal pronunciation. He helped her with her grammar homework and practiced with her a few times a day. The result? Lizzie learned just enough of the language to understand that the Goon Squad was speaking German and the end destination was somewhere in Idaho.

Why her? There was no doubt in Lizzie’s
mind, it had to do with the book. Had they broken into her house to steal the book? Had they hurt her dogs? Thinking about her dogs lying hurt or even dead made her stomach turn. They had to be fine. Lizzie had to believe they were fine.

The one thought Lizzie was prepared to cling to, was that
Kenna would miss her. Kenna was great in a crisis. Unlike Lizzie, she thought really well on her feet. On top of that, Kenna had John’s cell number. He had explained that his wolfy stalking visits had been an effort to determine if any other Lycan were in the area and aware of her special skills. She really hoped he was up to dealing with some competition.

John was determined to introduce her to his pack. He had spent a great deal of time
and energy convincing her to make the trip, as evidenced by the travel packet he had provided and by the very fact he had found her and the book. So he would want her back. Surely. She hoped.

“Where the hell is my friend?”

John held the phone an inch away from his ear and replied, “I’ll talk to you if you’ll stop screaming in my ear. Is this Kenna?”

John wasn’t surprised that Kenna had his cell number. He
was
surprised that she called him, since they hadn’t ever spoken directly to one another. He’d delivered a packet of travel info to Lizzie and provided an extra copy specifically for Kenna, since Lizzie had told him Kenna would be checking up on her during the trip. It included the B&B’s contact information and reservation confirmation, the car rental confirmation with delivery arranged for the B&B on the morning after her arrival, the planned car route, and a few recommended local tourist sites. And Kenna’s copy had one of his business cards inside.

Much quieter, but with great intensity,
she said, “Again, I’ll ask—where is Lizzie?”

“Are you telling me she’s missing?” John’s heart beat at a rapid tempo.
Damn.
He thought of her wide blue eyes, her ready smile. What had happened? He mentally shook himself. He had to remind himself that she also represented a connection to the past and an opportunity to learn more about Texas Pack history. She was more than a gorgeous smile. His pack needed her, too.

“
My gut says you’re not responsible. But I’m having a hard time buying that you had absolutely nothing to do with her disappearance. You arrive in town, and a few days later she’s gone.” Her voice was strained.

John answered the unspoken question. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. Tell me why you think she’s missing.
” John dug out a pad of paper from the hotel desk.

“
We had an appointment this morning.” Kenna spoke sharply. With his sensitive hearing, John could hear her taking a slow deep breath. “She was supposed to call you this morning. To let you know she was planning to make the trip with you and to confirm plans. She didn’t call you, did she?” Kenna took a deep breath.

“No.”

Before John could ask another question, Kenna started speaking again. “Yesterday evening, we met to discuss her trip. Once we reviewed the investigator’s report and she handed off a copy of her travel plans, she left to run a few errands before heading home. I know the pet food store and pharmacy were both on her list. We chatted about my mom watching her dogs, and she mentioned she was low on food. Right before we said goodbye, I reminded her that she had been complaining of allergies the day before and should stock up on her allergy medication.”

John could feel his wolf’s unease. He
focused on the facts. Thinking about Lizzie, about someone touching her, maybe hurting her, would
not
help. He shoved his and his wolf’s anger back. The facts, he reminded himself. “Which stores would she have likely visited?” He scribbled down the responses Kenna provided. He also confirmed her cell phone number.

John had a bad feeling about this entire situation, but he still had to check. “And you’re sure she’s actually missing? She didn’t just forget your appointment?”

There was a reason he was so ready to believe.
He’d been concerned other packs would show an interest in Lizzie, hence his earlier patrols of her neighborhood. Since her discovery of his wolf, he’d been more careful. But then she’d specifically requested some time and space to consider her next step. So there’d been
no patrols
over the last two days. And he was kicking himself for not heeding his natural instincts.

Kenna replied, “We walk her dogs most Sunday mornings. We made arrangements to meet later than normal this morning. She was planning to be out late running the errands I mentioned earlier. When I went by this morning, her car was gone. She might have forgotten our appointment. Unlikely, but not impossible. But the dogs hadn’t been let out or fed this morning. She wouldn’t leave overnight without taking them with her or making arrangements for them. Not willingly.”

“Lizzie
had already decided meeting the pack was important. She was planning to leave with you in a few days.” Kenna cleared her throat, seemed to collect herself, and then continued. Her words were low and held both a question and an accusation rolled together. “I hope you haven’t involved her in something dangerous by showing up in town. Maybe brought unwanted attention to the book, or to her.”

John hoped like hell he hadn’t, either.

There was a moment of quiet as Kenna turned her head away from the phone to blow her nose. “What are we going to do?”

John assured
Kenna he would be in contact as soon as he had more information. At her insistence, he gave her his hotel information and ended the call with the promise of an update shortly. He explained that he needed some time to gather information and form a plan.

Unfortunately,
Kenna was right to be worried. Lizzie’s disappearance just as she was learning of the pack was highly suspect. If she chose to join the Texas Pack, she would be protected by all the rights and privileges accorded a pack member. Until that time, as a human she existed mostly outside the protections and laws of the packs. The timing was too coincidental. As careful as he’d been, it wasn’t impossible that John’s discovery of her might have a role in her disappearance.

He considered the major players and possible suspects.
Texas maintained good relations with all of the American and most of the European packs. It was unlikely, therefore, that this was a strike against Texas. It was much more likely another pack sought a Record Keeper. Although problematic, since she had none of a Keeper’s skills, she should be safe from physical harm merely by virtue of her potential. For a while, at least.

The other concern was
Kenna’s involvement. Obviously, the two women were very close. Lizzie had confided in Kenna about the magic book. She had looked to Kenna for help in deciding whether to visit the Texas Pack. From what John had seen, Lizzie and Kenna seemed more like family than friends. John was certain he would create an enemy in Kenna, if he failed to include her, at some level, in his search. He wanted to avoid alienating Lizzie’s best friend, if possible.

John’s wolf grumbled
his dissatisfaction. At the wolf’s insistence, John examined his concerns about Lizzie. There would be no gain to a pack in harming Lizzie, other than perhaps the unlikely scenario of a strike against the Texas Pack. At that thought, John headed out the door to check on the book. If the book was intact at her house, then Lizzie was the focus. Not the Texas Pack.

As he drove to her house, he reminded himself that anyone who wanted Liz
zie for her Keeper skills would gain nothing by harming her. But that didn’t satisfy his wolf. John thought of someone hurting her and felt a tight, pinched feeling in his chest. It made his heart heavy to think of the buoyant woman he’d come to know locked up or treated poorly. He’d find her. And he would get her back.

As Kenna hung up the phone with John, she took a calming breath and pulled herself together. Yes, she was upset, and she had meant every one of those sniffles and every tear. Under normal circumstances, she would push aside tears for action. But in this instance, Kenna had allowed herself to wallow in her fear and her concern for a brief moment.

She wouldn’t mind if
John underestimated her. If he thought her overcome by emotion, maybe he wouldn’t expect her to act. Kenna didn’t believe he was behind her best friend’s disappearance, but she also didn’t trust him. The guy basically belonged to a secret society, for goodness sake.

Kenna
picked up the phone and called Jack, the private investigator who had completed John Braxton’s background check. Jack was utterly discreet, professional to a fault, and a very close friend. She trusted him absolutely.

Jack was the only friend
besides Lizzie, who Kenna loved like family. She could trust him to help her find Lizzie, keep an eye on John Braxton, and keep anything else he learned—supernatural or otherwise—to himself.

T
wo days later, Lizzie’s faith in a quick rescue was fading. Riding in the trunk of a car was no way to travel across America. Even with a down comforter cushioning the bottom, her hip and rear had been jarred into numbness a mere hour into the first full day of travel. And her back…she’d rather not think about it.

Lizzie
considered herself modern, practical, and self-sufficient. But her skill sets, though wide and varied, were insufficient to attempt an escape. She imagined black ops training as a recipe that mixed in some wilderness survival skills, weapons training, serious sneakiness, and a little hand-to-hand. But as John had pointed out, she was no super spy. And she certainly had none of
those
skills.