Wild (11 page)

His buddy by the truck fidgeted. “Damian, would you stop yapping with the broad? We need to hurry and get out of here. We are way too close to his land still.”

“What, are you turning into a 'fraidy cat?” her captor mocked as he tossed her into the truck. The bench seat meant she got the middle, squashed between the two arguing men.

“No, but I'm not stupid, either. Let's drop her ass off, get the money, and then go on that vacation.”

“Or you could just let me go now, and I contact a few friends and we see what we can do to help you.”

The one called Damian snorted. “Darling, I'm a hired mercenary. We only work for the mighty dollar. Not plea bargains or tears or big pleading eyes.”

“And steak.”

“We do not work for steak, Bubba. We buy the whole damned cow for the right price. God, I wish I hadn't promised your mother I'd let you work with me.”

The surreal arguing had her almost giggling, and not just because of hysteria at her situation. The pair of them were hilarious, especially all their references to bears and wolves and even a tiger.

“You guys are way too obsessed with the animal kingdom,” she interjected at one point.

“Says the girl associating with tigers.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Or was Tigers the name of Garoux's gang? Had she finally stumbled across their identity in the underworld?

“She's got his mark,” Bubba remarked, a stubby finger tugging at the collar of her T-shirt.

She slapped his hand away, but Damian couldn't be budged when he hooked the neckline to cop a peek.

“Do you mind?” she snapped.

“Who bit you?” he asked.

“None of your damned business.”

“Actually, given you smell like a cat rubbed all over you, I'd say the accountant fellow.”

Before she could ask him how he knew what Brody smelled like, the truck slowed to a stop. Their destination proved a big shock.

“This is my building. Does this mean you are letting me go?”

“You know, I almost wish I could. You're an interesting chick for a human. But in this business, once you give your word, you kind of have to keep it.”

An apologetic hit man. Had the whole world gone mad?

No one stopped them as Damian frog-marched her in. Not a soul was around to hear her scream for help. Both Damian and Bubba proved adept at avoiding her stomping feet. They'd gotten wise to her violent tricks.

The elevator ride proceeded silently. She eyed the numbers as they lit up, ascending to what: her doom?
Dum-dum-dum.

To her surprise, they skipped past her floor and kept going. When the elevator deposited them on the eleventh floor, she debated yelling for help.

Middle of the week, in the afternoon? The upper floor with its four penthouse suites catered to the white-collar businessmen. There would be no one home to hear, so she refrained, but she did eye with interest the various doors.

Which of them would lead to whoever had paid to have her killed?

As it turned out, none of them. They skipped all the doors and headed to the end of the hall, where an
EXIT
sign led them out to the stairwell. But they didn't go down. Up they climbed, one last level to the roof deck, a supposed oasis in the city.

Imagine a concrete balcony featuring a bolted pergola providing false shelter placed over a communal barbecue and outdoor seating area with some wilted plants in big clay urns. A rooftop paradise for yuppies.

Movement drew her eyes as a man dressed in jeans and a black silk shirt turned from the parapet. Lulu could not help but stiffen upon seeing him.
He seems so familiar.

While handsome, with his tanned skin complemented by his longish ebony hair and piercing blue eyes, there was a coldness in the gaze that perused her from head to toe.

“Welcome, Jack Lamontaine's daughter.”

At the mention of her dad, everything in Lulu froze. Especially because she suddenly recognized the man in front of her. Although young at the time, she recalled seeing his photo on the front page of the newspaper years and years ago. His mug was plastered everywhere as media groups touted the arrest of a known serial killer—with a grudge against her dad.

Uh-oh.

 

CHAPTER 13

Someone pounded on the front door of his boss's mansion. Sulking on the divan, Brody couldn't bother himself to answer it—which irritated Fabian to no end.

“Are you going to get that?”

“Why bother? It's not going to be Lulu because she left. No ‘Hey, see you later.' No ‘Why don't we go finish breakfast?'” No “I love you and can't stand to be separated from you” theatrical moment that would have involved kissing—lots of it, with tongue.

He did so like to lick things.

But Lulu had left. Without a second glance, she'd walked out the door, and now he didn't know when he'd see his cop mate again.

Meow
. Such a sad sound from his tiger. As for the man, he moped.

Fabian shook his head in disgust. “I still can't believe she was an undercover cop. And you're shackled to her. Ha. Too funny.” Fabian snorted. “Have you told your grandma yet?”

“No one knows yet. I only found out a little while ago myself. I'm still working on processing it all.”

“What's there to process? She's your mate. So what if she's a cop? That fact won't change.”

“Hold on a second. Does this mean you're not mad she's working for law enforcement?”

His boss shrugged. “I might be an asshole at times, but even I know you didn't purposely set out to screw me over by bringing trouble into the family. We'll adapt to it. We always do. It's how the pack works.”

Ah yes, the pack. The secret he'd not had time to divulge. Because she'd left! “I guess it will only be a problem if she comes back. Do you think—”

Bang
.
Bang
.
Bang
.

Brody snapped. “Would you quit banging like that? I'm trying to have a bloody conversation,” he bellowed in the direction of the front door.

A moment later a gun went off, and the door was kicked open. Fabian never moved from his position of nonchalance against the fireplace, but anyone who knew him would see the coiled tension in him. He was ready to spring if what entered the house proved a threat.

Brody, on the other hand, sprang to his feet and held himself ready to attack, but it was just the older cop called Mahoney who staggered in, looking battered and disheveled.

“You shot my door,” Fabian observed.

“You should have answered it.”

“I thought we were done with our pleasant chat.”

“We were. But I need help.”

Fabian arched a brow. “You're asking for my aid? That's priceless. What makes you think I want to do anything to help you?”

“Because it's not for me but that girl you had working for you.”

“Lulu? Wait a second, you're the cop she left with. Where is she?” And why did the man looked so abused?

Brody couldn't help but move closer, nose twitching, but he didn't scent anything untoward.

“A truck smashed into us less than a mile from here. Whoever it was did it on purpose and took her,” Mahoney said.

“Who took her?” Brody practically roared as he circled around the man and came face-to-face with him.

“Some hired thugs from the sounds of it. They had orders to deliver her to another party.”

“Where?”

The cop shrugged.

It made him want to roar again. Brody also wanted to shake the cop.
The man needs to give us answers.

When Fabian reached out to offer Mahoney a clear glass filled halfway with amber liquid, the cop didn't refuse. He took a sip, grunted in appreciation, and took another. Took his damned time. Meanwhile Brody breathed through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. It didn't work too well. Calm wasn't an option, not with Lulu a prisoner.

Danger. Our mate needs us.

Indeed she did, but where was she taken?

“Where did this happen? Take me to the scene of the crash,” Brody demanded.

“There's nothing there. They took off in a truck, the same one that ran us off the road I'd wager.”

Forget holding on to humanity. The culmination of facts just piled on top of each other. Brody ran out of the house, ignoring Mahoney's surprised, “What the hell is he doing?”

What, had Mahoney never seen a grown man strip before? Brody shed layers as he streaked across the front lawn. By the time he hit a copse of conifers, he was hidden enough from view to change skins, adopting the lankier stride and hunting ability of his tiger.

As his feline, he could also properly roar his frustration.

Since Fabian eschewed city or suburban living, and hated neighbors, the land he'd purchased, acres of it, provided a privacy Brody couldn't have hoped for anywhere else. It meant he could run, wild and free, springing from rock to rock, streaking through the bush. He didn't have a scent trail to follow as yet, but he paralleled the road out, trusting it to lead him to the scene of the crash, which, according to Mahoney, was less than a mile from the property. A crash on the pack's lands. The blatant evidence remained at the scene, the sedan laying on its roof, the passenger door entirely missing.

A shifter was here.
Brody slowed his pace and slunk around the wreck, sniffing the scene. He caught the distinct aroma of a bear. However, any further details, even confirmation it was the same one as before, proved impossible, as gas fumes tainted the trail and made his eyes sting.

With a huff through his nose to expel the dizzying miasma, he backed away from the sedan. What clues were to be found?

Studying the dry gravel lining the road and judging by the crushed foliage, a second vehicle had pulled over. Big tire treads, but not a ton of weight on the back judging by the shallowness of the rear tire tracks. More than likely a pickup truck, but that alone wasn't enough to give him a trail to follow. And Lulu was most certainly in that truck.

He noted the scuffmarks on the ground, paired with larger steps. Clear evidence of someone reluctantly being moved along by brute strength and size.

They'll pay for that.

With their lives,
his cat agreed. In his world, things were pretty easily categorized. Good or bad. Stays alive or dies. What was funny about this philosophy was Brody had never truly encountered it before now. Something about Lulu, though, yanked at his protective instinct. It brought out the animal in him. The hunter.

Rawr.

The beast in him, and he didn't just mean that of his tiger, but the one that worked on emotion, urged him to act. To find.

To protect.

He'd love to if he knew where the fuck they'd taken her.

He roared. It didn't help the situation. Neither did retracing his steps and seeing the wreckage of the car. Parked behind was Mahoney, and even from a distance he could hear the yelling.

He headed in the direction of the house, keeping close to the side of the road, only moving out of hiding when a black Humvee slowed to a stop. Fabian rolled down the window, his expression hidden behind a set of silver-lensed aviator glasses. “Get dressed.” A bag came whipping through the window of the truck, and Brody barely dodged it. He hissed.

“Stuff it, furball,” his boss snapped. “Get your ass moving. We've got somewhere we need to be.”

Asking where wasn't happening in his tiger form, so Brody shifted, the pain of melting from one shape to another barely noticeable now since he'd done it so many times.

As he pulled the athletic pants on, a navy blue pair of Adidas that offered ease of movement—and quick removal—he asked, “Where are we going exactly? Did Mahoney cough up a lead??”

Fabian shook his head. “I still have no idea who your girlfriend's enemy is, but apparently the bear hired to kidnap her had a price, which I agreed to, so expect it to come out of your paycheck.” Cheap bastard. But Brody forgave him when he said, “I have a location.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Brothers in the fur and all that, yada yada. Where is she?” Brody slid into the passenger side of the truck.

“The rooftop of her apartment building.”

Not exactly an inspiring location. “Well, come on, boss. Put that pedal to the metal. We have to rescue my mate.”

“You do know rescuing a cop goes against several of my moral grains? Having her around will probably come back to bite me” was Fabian's dry reply. The truck lurched, throwing Brody against his seat as Fabian peeled off down the road.

“Boohoo. So you might have to follow a few more laws. Like you said, she's my mate. She's family now.”

“I really should have you made into a rug.”

“But then who would you go on a wild adventure with? Now move it, old man. We have a sweetheart to save.”

Brody teased his boss, even though Fabian had already broken the posted limits. Hopefully Mahoney would ensure they weren't stopped by his subordinates. Speed was of essence.

While false bravado veiled Brody's exterior, inside, he churned a great big ball of worry. Time ticked just to mock him. Fabian did his best. They couldn't move any faster, and yet each second they took was another one in which she was in dire danger.

I'm coming to save you, sweetheart. Hold on.

 

CHAPTER 14

I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

Lulu held the chair in front of her as a shield while Peter, or as her dad liked to call him, “That murdering son of a bitch,” tracked her movements with his eyes. The gun he held down at his side never twitched. A man determined to not show fear—or common sense.

She hated when people didn't take her seriously. “Why are you after me?” Distract him with small talk. It worked in the movies. Why not real life?