Quinn's Quest: Legacy, Book 4 (4 page)

The only thing she knew for sure was that Bethany had escaped. That was good. But no one had arrived quickly enough to rescue her. Another shiver wracked her body as she remembered just how angry Brian had been when he’d found her. She remembered trying to shift and attack him. He’d hit her. Hard. Knocking her unconscious.

Then had come the hours of uncertainty as the doctor and Brian had packed up the lab and research. She’d known they were getting ready to leave and she’d prayed for help to arrive, but it hadn’t. Chrissten would never know how close rescue might have been.

Bethany hadn’t had any money when she escaped. She was also weak and frightened. Chrissten knew she might have wandered for hours before she’d managed to find anyone to help her. That’s if she even attempted to. Everything that happened had been so crazy that Bethany might decide it was all a drug-induced dream. But even then she’d probably go to the cops.

That hope had faded by the time Brian had come to her cell. She’d been drugged, chained, wrapped in a blanket and dropped in the back of a vehicle.

She listened hard over the hum of the engine, but no one was talking. The only bit of information she’d managed to glean earlier was the doctor didn’t want to leave the immediate area. He wanted to try to reacquire Bethany.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek. Chrissten didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She was slowly losing herself as each day passed. The urge to fight was dying inside her every time Brian raped her or the doctor prodded and tested her like she was of no more value than a lab rat. And, to him, she supposed she wasn’t. The minute she stopped being useful they’d kill her.

In her mind, she reached out for her twin, hoping to find some connection, some link. There was nothing.

The drug pulled at her consciousness and she didn’t fight it. Not this time.

She let it drag her into the darkness where she felt safest.

Bethany woke with a startled cry. She was rolling to her feet, ready to defend herself before she was fully awake. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. She blinked twice and her racing heart began to calm.

The shelter. She was at a homeless shelter in Chicago. She could hear the snores and deep breathing of the five other women sleeping in the dormitory-style room.

She slowly sank back down onto her cot and rubbed her hands over her face. Her memories were a confused jumble of images and impressions. After she’d escaped, Bethany realized she couldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe her crazy story. She couldn’t go home to Detroit either. Obviously, the good doctor and Brian knew where she lived.

She’d escaped, but found herself in an unfamiliar city with no money for food, clothing, transportation or shelter. It was April, but it was still cold and she’d been wearing only a thin cotton top and pants. She needed clothing, food and money.

The only place Bethany knew to get those things with few questions being asked was a homeless shelter. She knew all about them and how they worked. When she was a child, she and her mother had used them many times. She’d made a vow when she was eighteen and working her first full-time job that she’d never end up at one again, but she’d had no choice. Pride had no place in her decision, not with Chrissten’s life in danger.

She’d wandered through the city for a half a day, faint with hunger, heart pounding with fear, asking strangers on the street for help. Most walked away without answering her while some pointed in a vague direction as they hurried on their way. Several times she’d had to run for her life from men who’d thought her an easy target. Finally, one kind woman had directed her to this shelter.

It was small and overcrowded, but that helped her avoid too many unwanted questions. They’d fed her, tended her injured hands and given her clean clothing. She’d intended to rest for a few minutes to regain her strength before trying to find someone to help her. Instead, she’d fallen into bed and slept far longer than she’d planned, if the darkness outside was any indication.

“How could you?” she muttered, angry with herself for her weakness. Chrissten was still being held captive. She needed help and hours and hours had gone by without Bethany looking for any. The shock, exhaustion and hunger had obviously muddled her. If she’d been thinking properly the first thing she would have done the moment she’d arrived was use the phone at the shelter to contact Chrissten’s brother. Instead she’d allowed them to feed her and tend to her injuries.

She had a vague memory of asking to use the phone and being told she couldn’t use it. Security reasons. They would gladly call the police if she wanted but she’d quickly declined their offer. They also restricted the use of cell phones and had an unlisted, blocked number. They didn’t want some woman calling her abusive ex during a weak moment and telling him where the shelter was. That was dangerous for all of them. She’d get supervised phone privileges once she’d been here twenty-four hours.

Still, she should have insisted. Pleaded. Done whatever she’d needed to do.

There was no turning back the clock but it was past time to act. She’d call Chrissten’s brother. If that didn’t work, she’d have to swallow her doubts and fears and contact the police. She had to do something.

It was no good to castigate herself about her lack of effort. Her body and mind had been at the end of their endurance. She’d been physically unable to keep going. Hunger and exhaustion had taken their toll, forcing her to rest.

But it was time to start paying her debt to her friend.

Bethany reached for the pair of jeans that were folded neatly on the chair next to her cot. They were faded and used, but comfortable and much warmer than the thin cotton pants she’d been wearing. Since she was already wearing her new underwear and a long-sleeved shirt it didn’t take her long to get dressed. She tugged on her canvas sneakers and grabbed the fleece jacket the director of the shelter had given her.

Just thinking about the woman brought a smile to Bethany’s face. Margaret Montgomery was a large, dark-skinned woman with a big voice and an even bigger heart. She’d prodded and gently bullied Bethany into a hot shower and clean clothes and pushed her to eat a hot meal.

Margaret was a no-nonsense woman who wanted to help everyone who crossed her path. Bethany would always be thankful for the help she’d gotten at the Angel of Hope Shelter and hoped to repay that kindness someday when she was back on her feet.

She glanced out the window into the darkened street below. It was night. That was good. Everyone else was asleep. Keeping as quiet as possible, Bethany crept from the room and down the stairs to the offices below. She needed to find the phone.

She sensed a person near the front entrance as she eased around the bend in the stairwell. Bethany could see clearly into the office through the open door. Margaret sat in a battered leather chair, snoring softly. Damn. Didn’t the woman ever go home? Using the office phone would be impossible with her sleeping right next to it.

She’d have to search for another phone and if she couldn’t find one here she’d have to leave the shelter.

Bethany continued down the stairs, placing her feet carefully on each tread. She’d almost reached the last stair when the bottom of her right foot hit the wood and the resulting squeak split the quiet of the night.

Margaret stirred. Bethany held her breath and waited until the other woman finally seemed to settle. She carefully continued down the stairs and paused, trying to remember the layout of the rooms. It was all fuzzy. She’d been so exhausted when she’d reached the shelter she hadn’t paid much attention.

“We don’t keep money on the premises.” Margaret’s voice brought Bethany up short. She was good and caught. Then the director’s words registered and made her frown.

“I’m not going to steal anything. I need to use the phone.”

Margaret pushed out of her chair and stood. She studied Bethany with knowing brown eyes. Bethany had to struggle not to squirm. Margaret’s eyes were filled with the kind of knowledge that came from the school of hard knocks, yet they were also filled with compassion. She shook her head. “I can’t quite figure you out. You’re not a street person. You don’t have the look of one. You’re not a druggie.”

“No, ma’am,” Bethany agreed.

Margaret smiled. “And you got manners too. But you’ve had a hard time of it for sure.” She hesitated, chewed on her bottom lip and finally nodded. She motioned toward her desk. “Go ahead. Use the phone.”

Bethany sidled toward it and looked at Margaret, wondering how she could ask for some privacy. She didn’t want anyone else to hear what she had to say. That could quickly land her in the mental ward of a hospital.

Once again, the other woman seemed to understand what she needed. “I’m going to make myself a cup of tea.” She started out of the room, but paused at the last second. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Bethany found herself smiling. Margaret was a force of nature. She didn’t think any of the women staying here wanted to disappoint her in any way. She hadn’t observed much of what went on in the shelter, but she’d seen enough to know the director was respected by one and all, staff and clients alike.

This was the moment of truth. Bethany could walk away now and forge a new life for herself somewhere else. It would be so easy to do. If she made this phone call there was no going back. She’d be crossing a line over which there was no return.

Werewolves. They were out there. She knew that now. And she was about to make her first contact.

Knowing there was really only one choice she could make, Bethany picked up the receiver and dialed the number Chrissten had made her memorize.

Chapter Two

The phone rang twice before it occurred to Bethany that the middle of the night might not be the best time to call anyone asking for help, especially not with the crazy story she had to tell. “Damn.” She thought about hanging up but she was committed now. She tightened her hand around the receiver.

“Yeah.” The voice was male and hoarse with sleep.

She cleared her throat. “Is this Quinn Lawton?” She prayed she’d remembered the number right. She didn’t know what she’d do next if this wasn’t Chrissten’s brother.

There was some rustling in the background and the voice was more alert this time. “No.” Bethany’s heart sunk. Maybe she’d dialed the number wrong. Before she could apologize and hang up, the man was speaking again. “Just give me a second and I’ll get him.”

Hope surged inside her. She hadn’t failed. The phone number was the right one. Her knees threatened to buckle so she sank into the chair that Margaret had vacated. Her stomach felt queasy and she was still very weak. She could still hang up the phone and let the police handle this. All she’d have to do is tell them she was kidnapped. No need to tell them about the rest of it. Quinn Lawton would never be able to find her. There was no way to trace the call back to the shelter.

She clutched the receiver in her hand and took a deep breath, knowing she could never do that. She was committed now. No turning back. Footsteps sounded through the receiver and she knew the man who’d answered was taking the phone to Chrissten’s brother, who was a half-breed werewolf just like Chrissten. Just like she was.

Bethany still couldn’t quite wrap her head around that one, but she was trying to understand it. She hoped Quinn had answers for her.

“Yeah.” The voice was low and gruff and masculine. Every cell in Bethany’s body reacted to the sound. The fine hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her nipples contracted. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Who is this?” The voice was more demanding now, all trace of sleepiness gone.

Bethany forced herself to speak. “Is this Quinn Lawton?”

“Who wants to know?” She almost hung up on him. His impatience and arrogance bled through the phone line. But she’d promised her friend.

“Do you have a sister named Chrissten?”

“Where is she? Who are you? Where are you?”

Bethany was so startled by the angry outburst she dropped the receiver. She could hear Quinn yelling at her through the line. She grabbed the phone and hung up, panting hard for breath. He was one scary man.

She sat there for about thirty seconds before she grabbed the phone and punched in the number again.

“Hello. Are you there?” he demanded.

“I’m here.” This was for Chrissten, she reminded herself.
And for yourself
, a little voice in the back of her head said.
You want to know more about who you are. What you are
.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” His low tones made her shiver and she wasn’t sure she believed him. Even his apology was short. A voice in the background was urging him to stay calm. She recognized it as the man who’d originally answered the phone. She was beginning to wish she’d talked to him instead.

“Umm, I need to talk to you about your sister.” She had to do this face-to-face. This wasn’t something you talked about over the phone. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Chicago. Where are you?”

Bethany was shocked to find out that help was close at hand. She hadn’t expected that, but would take it as a good sign that maybe her luck was changing. “Where in Chicago? I want to meet you.”

“Tell me about my sister.” His frustration was palpable and she almost blurted out everything she knew. But she had to meet him in person. She’d promised Chrissten she’d get help and that meant more than simply making a phone call. Plus, she was curious about him, about what he was. What she was.

“Where shall I meet you?” Bethany could be just as stubborn as he was.

“There’s a bar in Wicker Park. It’s called Haven. Meet me there.”

“When?” Bethany glanced at the clock over Margaret’s desk. It was half past four in the morning.

“Now. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I don’t have any money to pay for a cab.” It was demoralizing to admit she needed him to pay for her to get there. She couldn’t walk, as she had no idea where she was going. Even if she wanted to take public transit she still had no idea where to find this particular bar.

“Just get here. I’ll take care of the cab fare.”