Avenging Autumn (11 page)

Chogan laughed. “I could get used to this.”

Ollie approached. “What did she do to him?”

“It’s none of your concern, but don’t think for one minute that we can’t do the same to you if you don’t cooperate in trying to find the woman I want.”

“So what now?” Ollie asked.

“I want the house and grounds searched,” she said.

“She’s not here,” said Rhys in a strange, sing-song voice.

“I know that. But I want the place searched for anything ... unusual.” She pressed her lips together and then admitted, “My father’s body might still be here.”

Chogan nodded. “We’ll get it done.” He turned back to the shifters. “Half of you search the house, the other half search this surrounding area.” He turned back to Autumn. “If she’s buried your father in the forest, the shifters will pick up on the scent.”

Her stomach turned at the idea of her father’s body being left, missing a hand, in the forest. Animals and insects might have gotten to it by now. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand seeing it, but at the same time, she didn’t think she’d be able to not say goodbye.

A number of the shifters, including Chogan and Ollie, disappeared inside the house. Rhys had taken a seat on the swing on the porch, and Daisy now sat beside him. They seemed pretty content in each other’s company, which wasn’t surprising considering Daisy was controlling his mood.

“In here,” Chogan’s voice called out from inside the building.

Autumn’s heart lurched. What was she about to see?

She headed into the house. She wondered who owned the property and where they were now. Or was this Vivian’s house all along?

Ollie had found some jeans, and wore them now, though the waist was too big for him and he’d cinched them in with a belt. At least she could look at him now without her cheeks wanting to burst into flames, though even the sight of his smooth, well muscled back was enough to get her attention. He had all the secure confidence of youth on his side. Autumn was still a woman; she was allowed to look. Anything to distract her from the horror that was coming.

She pushed through the others, certain she was about to see her father’s body in the middle of the living room floor. Instead, they all stared down at a large, circular black stain on the carpet. It took her a moment to piece together what she was seeing. The stain was blood, and from the size, it must have been a lot of blood. Her hand went to cover her mouth. This must be the spot where Vivian had slit her father’s throat. That was his spilled blood on the floor.

A shout came from outside.

Autumn glanced at Chogan, but he didn’t say anything. Together, they hurried to the back of the property where the shout had come from. Something else had been found.

Out on the back porch, another blood stain—a smear this time rather than a puddle—marked the wood. A large nick had been taken out of the board as well.

Autumn dropped down beside it, and resisted the strange urge to touch the mark. “This must have been where she took his hand,” she said, her voice choked. “There isn’t as much blood because his heart had already stopped beating.” She didn’t know if she should be thankful for that fact or not. If Vivian had taken his hand when he’d still been alive, then she might at least have a chance of saving him, even though he’d have gone through that agony and had to live the rest of life one-handed. Instead, she had no hope left. What had been done was final.

Some of the shifters began to emerge from between the trees. She turned to them, expectant.

“Did you find anything?”

She was met by low growls and snorts of air. She could tell just by their body language that they hadn’t.

What the hell had Vivian done with her father’s body?

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B
LAKE WOKE WITH a sudden start, his heart beating. Something had woken him, but he wasn’t sure what.

He froze, listening hard. The house seemed to be quiet, and he glanced at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. Were Autumn and Chogan back? He didn’t think they’d get here at least until light, assuming everything had gone well. He didn’t want to consider the fact that it might not have. His worry for her only increased his frustration at his own uselessness.

He wished he could still use his wolf to explore what was going on outside of the room. Only being able to see as far as the four walls he sat within was another incredibly frustrating thing he wasn’t used to.

No other sound came and he began to relax. He must have dreamed something, and that’s what had woken him.

But then something dropped from somewhere near the kitchen, followed by a curse, and Blake froze once more. Someone was out there, and by the suspicious way they were making their way around, he didn’t think the person had a right to be in the house.

Shit.

He glanced over at his wheelchair. He’d never be able to get into the chair and then out of the door without making some serious noise and disturbing whoever was out there. His upper body strength was still excellent. He needed to reach a weapon, and the last place he’d seen one had been in Wenona’s cabinet in the living room. He damned himself for not having thought to take a gun to bed. He’d been so used to relying on his wolf as being his weapon, he’d forgotten the necessity of keeping one at his side.

Blake leaned out of the side of the bed, and allowed his body weight to carry him to the floor, using his arms to brace against the impact. His body made a thump against the floorboards and he grew still again, listening to see if he’d been heard. Where was the person now? A door creaked as it opened down the hallway, followed by a shuffle and a small cry of fright.

His heart rate stepped up a notch. It had sounded like a woman’s cry, and the only women in the house were Wenona and Madison. He had a feeling if someone tried to mess with Wenona, he’d have heard gunshots already.

A small voice came from down the hallway. “Where are we going?”

Followed by, “Shut it, you little punk.”

More struggles, and a muffled moan.

Blake couldn’t wait any longer. He used his arms to pull himself across the floor, and then reached up to slowly open the door. He was making more noise than he would have liked, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

He looked down the dimly lit hallway, the only light coming from the glass panes in the front and back door on either end. He could make out the shape of a man dragging two people down the hall. One, he had held by the arm, though the boy tugged back, making his progress slow, and the other was Madison. The man had his arm locked around her throat, and something was stuffed into her mouth—a cloth or perhaps ball of socks. Her eyes were wide and wild, as she clawed against the arm around her throat, but the man was a lot stronger than she was and her efforts were futile.

No one else in the house had woken up. Blake paused, considering his next move. Did he have time to find a weapon and stop the man? Or make a noise and wake the others? But Lakota and Wenona were old, and he didn’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt. The guy would be long gone before he did, even though Billy and Madison were slowing him down. He must have a vehicle parked outside. He wouldn’t have walked any distance knowing he was abducting a woman and child.

Blake made a decision.

Turning toward the back of the house, he moved in the awkward sliding shuffle across the floor toward the back door. His arm muscles strained, his shoulders bulging with the effort of dragging his useless legs along. The sounds of Billy struggling and Madison’s muffled cries managed to mask the noise he was making, though he would have given anything to have the use of his legs back. If he’d been able to walk, this other man wouldn’t have stood a chance. Blake would have crushed him in a second. But things were different now and he had to act with more stealth.

He heard Billy crying, “My teddy! You forgot my Barney-teddy!”

The man’s voice in a snarl, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Please, I need my Barney-teddy.”

Blake heard the boy’s quiet sobs and his heart broke for the child. He waited for a second, needing to know the man’s next movement. He heard a sigh of exasperation, and then the man said, “Fine. Where the hell did you leave it?”

“He’s in the bed,” Billy said between quiet sniffles.

Madison continued to struggle, but their abductor held her firm. With another sigh of frustration, the man turned back on himself and started to drag the woman and boy back into the room where Madison and Billy had been sleeping.

As quietly as possible, and praying he wouldn’t be noticed, Blake let himself out of the back door and onto the porch that circled the house. He hauled himself backward, figuring this was the fastest way he could move, and rounded the corner. He spotted the shape of a vehicle parked a little way from the property, hidden against the backdrop of the trees. The truck must have cut its lights before reaching the house, so as not to wake any of them, but there was enough moonlight to allow Blake to see the glint of chrome catching the light. Blake paused, trying to pick up on where the man was with Madison and Billy. He’d been right to assume the man’s two captives would slow him down—even more so than Blake’s useless legs. Blake had made it around the side of the house before they had.

Time was running out, though. He probably only had a minute or less before the man exited the house and saw him. If that happened, Blake would lose the element of surprise—currently the only thing he had on his side—and the guy would get away with the mother and boy.

Blake reached the set of steps that led down from the porch. He didn’t have time to be delicate about this. Steeling himself for the pain he knew he’d suffer, he lunged down the steps. He hit the second step and then rolled, thumping and banging down the rest and onto the ground below. Pain jarred up through his body where it hit the edges of the wooden treads. He’d experienced a lot worse when he’d shifted, even though the pain from shifting never lasted, unlike the current bruises he knew would be blooming beneath the skin of his hip and shoulder. At least when he’d been a full shifter and in touch with his wolf, he used to heal, but since his wolf had distanced itself, all of his other powers had gone with it.

He rolled a couple of times, before coming to a standstill.

The front door cracked open.

Shit.

A male voice came, hissed and angry, followed by muffled groans and low thuds against the wood. Both Wenona and Lakota must have been sleeping deeply, but perhaps it was simply that they were older and their hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be. Blake glanced up enough to see the shape of the man appear in the crack of the doorway. He was facing in the opposite direction, distracted by the two people he was hauling out against their will.

Blake didn’t have time to sit around and see what he’d do next. Using his huge upper body strength, he dragged himself across the ground toward the parked vehicle. He felt as though the amount of noise he was making was bound to cause the man to notice him, but the man was obviously preoccupied with his abductees. Reaching the vehicle, Blake lay flat and used his elbows to wriggle beneath the chassis. He needed to reach down to the side to make sure his feet and legs were also hidden beneath the truck, an awkward movement in the confined space, but he managed it.

Now his viewpoint was limited, only able to see across the ground, and the bottom of the porch steps he’d rolled down. He stilled himself, focusing. The man would have to come toward the truck, and when he did, Blake would be waiting for him.

Three sets of feet came into view down the steps—the man’s, Madison’s, and Billy’s. Both Madison and Billy were dragging their feet, but the man was stronger than both of them, and though they hindered his progress, he kept them moving. Realization dawned on Blake. This must be the ex-husband or boyfriend Madison had been talking about. How had he found them? The guy clearly wasn’t happy about the fact Madison had left with his son.

The feet left the porch steps and headed across the ground toward the car. Blake tensed. He would only have the briefest of moments, and that this guy was able bodied gave him a huge advantage over Blake. Even so, Blake was determined to do everything he could. He wouldn’t let this guy just drive off with Madison and Billy without putting up whatever kind of fight he could.

The feet reached the truck and the man let go of Billy for a moment in order to reach out and open the door. The boy hesitated, and then tried to run in the direction they’d just come, back to the house, but the man lunged for him.

“Oh, no, you don’t, you little shit.” Blake caught a southern accent.

He shoved Billy into the car. “Don’t try anything or I’ll slice Mommy into pieces.”

Blake heard a whimper from the boy and his anger ratcheted up a notch. Was this seriously the boy’s father? How could any father speak to his son like that?

The rear door slammed shut on Billy, and then the guy opened the front. Madison struggled again, kicked out, but her feet were bare, as were her legs. She’d been hauled right out of bed, no time to even dress fully before he’d snatched her. The man yanked open the driver’s door and pushed Madison into the car.

“If you try anything, I’ll shoot the kid first,” he promised her.

Blake’s moment had arrived. Before the guy had the chance to climb into the vehicle, Blake lunged out from beneath the chassis and knocked the guy’s legs out from beneath him. The man gave a grunt of shock and hit the ground like a bag of bones. Instantly, Blake was on him. His useless legs weren’t a disadvantage when they were both on the ground, and Blake held himself up with his left arm, while he used his right fist to connect with the man’s nose. 

The man was surprisingly clean in his appearance—recently cut dark hair, and a smooth jaw. But he didn’t look that way for long. Blake’s fist connecting with his face exploded his nose, blood splattering out in a fan across his skin. Blake’s knuckles crunched, but he didn’t let that stop him. He raised his fist punched the man’s face again.

With every hit, his sense of strength and power came back to him in waves. He might not have use of his legs, but he could still overpower another man. He could still fight, he was still strong.