Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 08 - Revenge (12 page)

There was so much confusion, so much pain. Maarten couldn’t tell what he was truly experiencing and what he was hallucinating. It didn’t matter. He was in hell either for real or in his head, and getting out didn’t seem likely.

Every part of him ached, from his head down to the tips of his toes. There was no part of him that didn’t feel as if it’d been beaten or stabbed with hundreds of tiny needles.
He couldn’t think, either, his brain skittering from one thing to the next, like a fly darting about to avoid a deadly swat. His heartbeat sounded in his ears, so he knew he was alive. That ruled out hell-hell, which he didn’t believe in anyway. Now he was even confusing himself more.
Then Maarten remembered with startling clarity. He’d been out with Ryder, hunting a murderer. His back ached with a sudden throbbing pain.
Drinking
. His mouth was so dry now, his throat too. He’d been drinking then, and someone had been watching.
Bullet. Fucker shot me.
Terror zipped through him and Maarten began to panic.
“Calm down, Maarten. I have you. I’m here. Nothing can hurt you again. Nothing will get past me.”
Oh, oh, he knew that voice! Maarten frowned, trying to discern whether he’d heard the voice with his ears or in his head. It didn’t matter. Ryder was with him.
“That’s right, I am. Right here. Feel me.”
Warmth, perfect against his skin. Maarten inhaled, and his mate’s scent filled his lungs.
“Open your eyes. Come back to me, Maarten. I’ve been waiting for you for days now.”
Days? That terror tried to kick up again, but Ryder’s soothing voice chased it off. Maarten felt something cool and wet against his lips, and he parted them for a straw.
“Suck.”
If he only felt better, he’d have so much fun with that order. As it was, he closed his mouth around the straw. Soon water was on his parched tongue. He swallowed and almost wept as his throat was wetted.
“Can you open your eyes?”
Maarten wanted to do it because it’d make Ryder happy. He tried, but his eyelids felt like someone had glued them shut.
Ryder gently wiped at his eyes with a damp cloth. “Try again for me.”
Maarten did and found himself grimacing as bright light assaulted his eyes. “Ow.”
“All over,” Ryder agreed. “You hurt everywhere. Fuck, I am so glad you’re awake!”
And with that, Ryder sobbed, once. He peppered Maarten’s face with kisses. Maarten sluggishly raised a hand and clutched at Ryder’s arm. Touching Ryder was what he needed now.
“I need to check him.”
“In a minute, Shania. It isn’t going to hurt to let them say their good mornings. Nathan and I will come back later, when Ryder and Maarten have had time together.”
The second voice had been Marcus’, Maarten recognised it. The first was familiar in a weird way. He hadn’t been around Shania much at all before.
“Go ahead. I want to make sure he’s okay.” Ryder moved back and Maarten saw him clearly for the first time since awakening. “Not so handsome, am I?”
“I disagree,” Maarten croaked, and even those two words made his throat hurt. Ryder was the most beautiful sight ever, as far as Maarten was concerned, and he let Ryder know it, sending all the praise he could to him. Ryder hadn’t shaved, and his face was halfway covered with the beginnings of a beard. His hair was in disarray, and he had the biggest smile. Yes, Maarten thought he was perfection.
Shania began poking at him, listening to his heartbeat—“Excellent,” she pronounced. She asked him where he hurt and he grunted out, “Everywhere.”
“Can you move your toes for me?”
Maarten could, but it sucked doing so. His feet cramped and he groaned pitifully. Having high arches could be such a bitch.
“Let me rub them.” Ryder moved down and began chasing away the cramps with blissfully strong hands. “I hate getting cramps in my legs. I can’t imagine them here.”
Maarten could vouch for it being a painful experience. Ryder rubbed while Shania took his pulse, looked in his ears, throat, nose—that was kind of embarrassing as she tipped his head back and looked right up his nostrils. She kept checking every part of him just about.
“I still don’t know what was on that bullet that almost killed you,” Shania told him when she finished. “We gave you one of the pills, you know the ones.”
Maarten grimaced at that. He did indeed know which one, and
gross
, he had dead dried-out shifter in him.
“At least you’re alive.” Shania shone a light in his eyes. “Be glad for that, because your body was shutting down on you at one point. I’m not sure if it was that pill or your mate who pulled you through. The pill did heal up the bullet wound quickly, but the poison that had been in your system, possibly not so much.”
“It might have,” Ryder argued. “You don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been given the medicine.”
“I think you would have dragged him through it all kicking and screaming regardless,” Shania replied. “Now, as far as I can tell, he’s healing nicely. There might be some residual numbness to your fingers or toes, we’ll have to see, but other than that, I expect you to be walking out of here by tomorrow, understand?”
“Yes,” Maarten got out. He noticed another couple sitting nearby.
“Harley and Val. Harley, Val, this is my mate, Maarten.”
He got two nods and smiles to go along with them. Harley stood and walked over to stand with Ryder. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. Of course, if my brother had told me he’d found his mate sooner, well…”
Maarten wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that so he didn’t say anything at all. He lay and sipped from his cup of water while Ryder, Val and Harley chatted. Harley didn’t look like Ryder much, though there was some resemblance. Harley was shorter, thinner and had more delicate features than his brother.
Ryder kept touching him, either holding his hand or stroking his arm and sometimes his hip. Maarten tried to keep from thinking about why he was laid up in the sick ward or whatever they called it there. There were things he couldn’t deal with, and how close he’d come to death was one of them. Later, when he’d had time to heal and the pain was a faint memory, he’d perhaps not shirk away from thoughts of it.
“We’re going to go crash.” Harley hugged Ryder and gave him a peck on the cheek, then surprised Maarten out of his funk by planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek, too. “Get better soon, Maarten. We’d love to hang out with you both sometimes. Val and I will be heading back to Sedona when all of this is settled. Marcus wants us here until then.”
“He seems very nice,” Maarten managed once he was alone with Ryder. ‘Nice’ being a replacement for ‘bland’. Harley didn’t seem to have Ryder’s fire.
Ryder grinned and shook his head as he sat on the bed beside Maarten. “No, Harley isn’t big on excitement or anything like that, but he’s a good brother, solid, steady.”
“Sounds like Luuk.” Maarten loved his brother, but he had no illusions that he’d ever be the man Luuk was. That was okay. They were different because they were meant to be so.
“Maybe I’ll get to meet him some day.” Ryder stood and touched his cheek. “You scared me, Maarten. Don’t ever try to die on me again.”
Something niggled its way from Maarten’s brain out of his mouth. “Why didn’t they give me the pill—”
“They did.” Ryder pushed Maarten’s hair back from his face, tenderness softening Ryder’s features. “They did, and you still almost left me.”
Maarten tried to make sense of that but couldn’t. “I don’t understand. It has always mended any injury. I shouldn’t still be in this bed—how many days later?”
“This is the fourth day,” Ryder told him.
Maarten gawped at him. “Four days? And I am still feeling like cold shit?”
“There was something on the bullet, in it, I don’t know for sure, but it was a poison. Either what Shania gave you didn’t help, or it saved your life, and the poison was bad enough shit that even the treatment that saved Marcus could only prevent your death, rather than heal you.”
“That completely sucks,” Maarten grumbled. “I would have to end up being resistant to the treatment, for whatever reason.”
“Shania has yet to isolate or figure out what it was that made you so ill. She’s found something, but she doesn’t know
what.
” Ryder kissed his brow. “I’m just glad you’re back.”
“When do I get to leave this place?”
“The medical centre, or the compound?”
Maarten wouldn’t have minded going back to the relative safety of Amsterdam, but Luuk had sent him here in the name of diplomacy—
and hadn’t that gone well
. Plus, Maarten had been at odds with Luuk, jealous not of his position, but of the fact that Luuk had all the packs while Maarten had none.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Ryder urged, wanting Maarten to talk to him instead of having to delve into his mind for whatever Maarten was thinking.
Maarten sighed and wished he could roll onto his back, but his shoulder was still sore. “I was thinking that I was a melodramatic brat and a fool who was too busy pouting over things that I knew were true. I wasn’t cut out to be an alpha. Not every big, muscle-bound shifter is. If Luuk hadn’t been ambushed and almost killed for his position, I’d have just kept being a regular shifter.
“But he didn’t, and I gathered together some of his loyal followers and my friends. Because Luther wanted me, he didn’t kill me or bother me overly much.” Maarten scowled. “To think he ever believed I would have sex with him! Ugh. I put up with his come-ons and groping. I let it all go to my head.” And he hated to admit it, but it was true. “My ego. As if I needed a bigger one.”
“I like your ego,” Ryder said gruffly. “I like all of you.”
Maarten shrugged and whimpered. Damn, that hurt.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”
“No kidding,” he told Ryder. “Thank you, for liking me. I like me most of the time, too. I still let myself think more of me than I should have, and when Luuk returned to power, the pack that had followed me and fed my ego disbanded to blend into the Amsterdam pack Luuk led, as Marcus heads this one here himself. I felt…unwanted, I suppose. Unnecessary, and bitter. How petty I was.” No wonder Luuk had wanted him gone.
“We all get lost sometimes.” Ryder kept touching him, kept kissing his brow, his cheeks, his lips while speaking. “I was lost for twenty years, Maarten. That’s a long time. Longer than I bet Luuk was gone.”
“A little over three years,” he admitted.
“Right, so about three years. I had twenty years of letting drugs run my life. I did bad, bad things. Stole from people, sold my body, whatever I had to in order to get high.” Ryder pulled back, staring at him. “Does that make me a horrible person today, right this minute? I don’t think so. I think I’m a work in progress, and it’s up to me to decide what I want for myself. I want to be better, and I want you. What do you want, Maarten?”
Maarten’s eyes burnt and he wondered how he’d got lucky enough to have such a smart mate. “I want that, too. I don’t want to feel like all I am good for is my looks or to be the foil and fool.”
“No playing dumb anymore,” Ryder said.
“How did you know?” Maarten used it as a defence. It hurt less for people to think he was dumb because he acted that way than because he was himself and they truly thought he was an idiot.
“Because I know you. I spent three days in your head, in your heart and soul. Don’t you remember, don’t you feel a part of me still in there?”
Maarten blinked and knew he had to look sort of stunned because yes, he could feel Ryder in him, not like a thought or memory, but a part of him, melded to his soul forever. “Yes.”
“That’s how you are in me, now, too. We’re not ever going to be complete without the other from this moment on.”

After much arguing, Marcus finally got it through Keegan’s head that yes, Marcus
would
be waiting on the tarmac when Aidan and Zane finally arrived. There’d been no new attacks, no more disturbing messages, since Maarten had been shot. Marcus didn’t for one second believe the murderer had given up, but he wasn’t going to hide away forever. That would be a victory for the bad guy, and it wasn’t happening.

Besides, Aidan and Zane had been led on a chase by Juanita and Guillermo before finding them and getting the siblings to listen to them. Marcus was just glad they’d come willingly, otherwise he was sure Aidan would have tied them up and dragged their asses onto the jet.

Marcus tipped his head in acknowledgement. As a compromise to keep Keegan from bitching any more, Marcus had agreed to remain in the Hummer rather than stand outside as an easy target. The Hummer’s windows were tinted almost black, and the vehicle itself was armoured. Marcus didn’t take chances on some things, and there were three other Hummers identical to the one he and Nathan were in, all on the grass beside where the plane would come to a stop. If there was a sniper out there, he wouldn’t have an easy shot.

Until Aidan and Zane arrived, but even then, they’d arranged for the jet to pull in at an angle that would allow them to drive the line of Hummers up right beside it. All Aidan and the others would have to do was get down the steps.

“Here it comes,” Nathan murmured, watching intently. Marcus did too, not relaxing much even when the jet landed and stopped. He thought they were safe, but until Aidan and Zane were in one of the vehicles, he’d worry.

The exit door was opened and a line of guards strode to the steps. As soon as Marcus saw Aidan, his heart sped up. He leant forward, instincts clamouring suddenly. “Something—”

“What—” Nathan said when Aidan backed up.
“Is something wrong?” Keegan twisted around to look at Marcus.
“Yes,” he and Nathan replied together. Marcus held up a hand. “I don’t know what.

Keegan was on the phone spitting out orders instantly. “I want guards checking in every direction. I don’t care if you have to bring them from the compound, get it done. Something’s off here.”

The door to the plane began to close just as the rapid-fire sound of multiple gunshots rent the silence.
“Goddamn it!” Marcus shouted, slamming a fist against the dash hard enough to crack it. “Find this fucker!”
“Trying!” Keegan was shouting out orders as Nathan cursed and they watched bullet holes bloom all over the side of the plane.
“Aidan’s smart, so is Zane. They’ll head for the back of the plane.”
“If they haven’t been killed already,” Marcus snarled. “Keegan, turn this goddamned vehicle around and head towards wherever the bullets are coming from!”
Keegan’s eyes widened. “But, sir—”
“Now!” Marcus bellowed. He’d had enough of cowering. It went against everything he was. He was the top predator, the hunter, not the hunted. “Move,” he ordered at the same time, grabbing Keegan by the shoulder. “I’ll drive.”
“Do it,” Nathan told Keegan. “Get in the back, because I’m sitting up front with my mate.”
Keegan’s lips thinned and Marcus could see him biting back words, but he did as he was told. More bullets peppered the plane. “Someone call Aidan or Zane, fucking check on them!”
Nathan was dialling before Marcus finished speaking. “Aidan? Aidan! Where are y’all? What? Who? Fuck! Get them to the bedroom in the back, where the—yeah, you know. I don’t know, but—Aidan?” Nathan looked up at the roof of the vehicle. “Argh! He’d said his phone was almost dead. He’s fine, Zane is nicked, so’s one of the crew members. And either Juanita or Guillermo are hurt, I don’t know which. I couldn’t understand him with all the screaming from people on his end.”
Marcus had the Hummer turned around and heading in what he hoped was the right direction. Opposite from the compound, where trees grew at the base of the mountains. It was a long way off, but not impossible to fire upon a plane and hit it.
Bullets pinged off the Hummer as he floored the gas pedal.
“Sissy and Bon’s group of guards are behind us in their vehicles,” Keegan hollered over the sound of the engine growling and the bullets hitting the Hummer. “We have backup.”
“Good.” He didn’t really care. Marcus was going to kill the fucker who’d dared to endanger Aidan. He wouldn’t be merciful, either. His wolf wouldn’t allow it. That was fine with him.
“Zane, how is everyone?” Nathan asked, on the phone again. “You’re just nicked, and Guillermo is hit pretty bad? How bad is ‘pretty bad’? Shit. Staunch it. We’re going after the shooter. Whatever, like we’d wait for him to stop so y’all could join us? Right. Stay safe. Bye.”
Marcus heard Keegan, too, snapping out more orders for his guards to protect the plane’s passengers at all cost. His ears rang, and he realised he wasn’t hearing the
ding
of the bullets anymore. “He’s running.”
“Or waiting for us to get out so he can kill us.” Nathan leant forward, peering at the copse of trees. “The instant we open the doors…”
They were only yards from the trees, and Marcus saw no one. What he did see had him slamming on the brakes as one of the trees began to topple in their direction.
“Fuck!” Nathan screeched, arms stiff, bracing himself against the dashboard as the Hummer began skidding sideways on sand and rock.
“It won’t do much damage,” Keegan rasped. Marcus wasn’t so sure. It was a big fucking tree.
It hit the back end of the vehicle. The impact rocked them all, the noise incredibly harsh and loud. For a moment, Marcus thought they might tip over, but the rocking stopped and a quick check assured Marcus that they were all okay.
Then the gunshots began again, and he heard shouts of anger and agony. “The guards—”
“No!” Keegan screamed it, clamouring at the door. “No!”
Nathan tackled him before Marcus could. He watched in horror as Sissy, Bon and his other guards were shot, bullets tearing into them and exiting in an explosion of flesh and blood.
“No, no, no!” Keegan yelled, tears on his cheeks, the anguish of losing those under his command matching Marcus’ and Nathan’s. Those were their people, their guards, and while it was those guards’ jobs to serve and protect, losing them, especially to a cowardly, murderous bastard, broke something inside Marcus.
He roared with all the anger surging in his body, roared until his throat ached and his voice broke. He couldn’t release the pain, but he didn’t need to. It would give him more strength, more fury and power.
Marcus shoved the driver’s door open and was shifting before his foot touched the ground. Nathan was screaming, Keegan was screaming, and death saturated the atmosphere. Blood was on the wind and Marcus’ vision was coated with red. Everywhere he looked behind him, he saw his guards, dead, dying, bleeding.
He took it all in instantly. There were none he could help, not by staying behind. He could only help by hunting, killing. Marcus let his beast rule, let his wolf run so fast his paws barely touched the ground. He was Earth and Moon, power and righteousness. He was justice, demanding payment for the shooter’s sins.
There would never be payment enough.