Finding the Magic (16 page)

“NO! Don’t shoot!”

* * * * *

Halfway in her panicked run for the door Jayne froze. She had been standing to one side of the window in the back
parlor
when she heard the bang. Her immediate reaction had been to go to Cameron, make sure he was all right. Because something inside her was screaming that he wasn’t. She had never heard a real gunshot in her life before but she knew with a deep certainty that that was what she had just heard.

She forced herself to stand where she was, in the dark hallway and think. Running out into the night wasn’t going to do either of them any good. She didn’t even know where he was and it was more likely that she would go blundering into the men with the guns. But she couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. Cam had been adamant about not involving the police but what choice did she have? Chris and the guys would be miles away by now and even if she knew how to contact them, it would take them too long to get back to do her any good. Turning on her heel, she headed into the living room and picked up the phone, putting it down again with a crash when she realized there was no dial tone. Okay, this was the middle of nowhere, the phone lines must go down often enough to have a cell phone. Besides, Cam was a high-tech kind of guy, he must have one.

It would be in the office.

She had taken a few steps back into the hallway when she heard the knocking on the conservatory door.

“Miss Davis!”

The voice came clearly through the glass and Jayne pressed her back against the wall, watching as a torch beam swept through the kitchen.

“Miss Davis, we know you’re there in the hallway, might as well come out. I’m not in the mood to chase you, so here it is. You come out here and we get Murray to a doctor…or you can waste my time while he lies bleeding in the snow.”

Jayne felt her whole body go ice cold. Moving slowly, she crept back to the back
parlor
and peeked out of the window. The man standing on the patio at the door turned to face her in the reflected light from his torch. He was about five-foot-ten with a stocky build and had a heavy dark brown
mustache
beneath a crooked nose. It took her a few seconds to recognize him as the fake policeman that Cameron had fought with at the checkpoint. This time though, he was dressed all in black and held a gun in his other hand.

For a few hopeful seconds, she thought he had lied to her and was alone. Then he directed his torch a dozen feet behind him where three other black-clad men stood in a semicircle. One was pointing some kind of handheld computer toward her while the other two trained their guns on the big cat lying on pink-tinged snow. There was blood staining his fur red from his shoulder to his paw. His golden-brown eyes were closed. He didn’t move and he made no attempt to communicate with her.
Bastards
!
Impotent fury filled her. It swirled in her veins with the fear that they might be lying, that he might already be…
Oh
,
please let him be unconscious
. A little blood always looked like a lot, he was all right…he had to be. She ran her eyes along the length of his body, searching for any signs of life. But he was too far away and he was very, very still. She had almost given up when she saw the small puffs of white, against the black trousers of the man standing by his head. He was breathing! His warm breath visible in the cold air.

There was really no decision to be made anymore. Quickly she grabbed a notepad and pen from the tabletop and scribbled a note for the others. She grabbed the small, slim, dagger-shaped brass letter opener. Pried up the insole of her boot and slipped it into the hollow cavity beneath. She knew her penchant for buying cheap boots would pay off eventually.

“Ten seconds, Miss Davis, and I’ll have them shoot him again. One… Two… Three… Four…”

“Okay! All right,
dammit
, I’m coming, please…don’t hurt him.” Cam was going to be really pissed when he woke up and discovered she hadn’t done what he had told her. She raced through the kitchen, snatching the towel from the rail on the way past and leaving the note in the cupboard.

Mr
.
Mustache
met her at the glass door, a mocking smile on his face, one arm swept out, inviting her to pass him. She unlocked the door and edged past him, ignoring his chuckle and ran to Cameron’s side. She fell to her knees, oblivious to the biting cold of the snow and the bitter wind through her sweater, not noticing that the guns were now pointed at her. The wound on his shoulder bled sluggishly, Jayne pressed the bunched-up towel to it. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared. It looked as though the bullet had torn a long furrow through his flesh instead of piercing his body and doing untold internal damage.

She closed her eyes in relief.
So why then
,
was he unconscious
?
The dart pierced the flesh of her arm as she began to turn, suddenly realizing the intent of the man behind her. She felt the cold of the drug flow into her and lifted her head to glare at him.

“It’s very fast, Miss Davis, I just hope I didn’t give you too much.” He grinned at her with nicotine-stained teeth. “It’s a veterinary tranquilizer, after all, it was never meant to be used on people.”

Jayne shook her head as the scene around her began to do a slow revolution, her body felt heavy and
Mr
.
Mustache
’s
voice got very far away. She heard him continue to speak but his words didn’t make much sense. The spinning was making her dizzy so she let her heavy eyes close. Everything seemed to slip sideways. She found herself lying on something soft, a familiar scent enveloped her, overlaid by the coppery tang of blood. Beneath her ear she heard a steady
thump
…
thump
…
thump
…and everything drifted away.

* * * * *

Cameron moaned, his whole body ached and his shoulder was burning like fire. He lifted a hand to investigate, bumped his elbow on a wall and opened his eyes to find he was in pitch darkness. Abruptly he realized he
had
hands again. Suddenly everything flooded back. Changing in front of Jayne, the alarm, hunting in the woods, the gunshot and pain of being hit…then nothing.
Where the hell was he
?
Cautiously he reached out only to encounter walls less than an arm’s length on either side of him. There was another wall at his feet and what felt like a grate at his head preventing him from lying completely flat.

He sat up gingerly, hissing in pain as the action pulled at his wounded shoulder, and felt above him. As expected the ceiling was just above his head. It smelled like wood and beneath that was the faint scent of other shifters.
He was in a bloody box
!
A large animal carrier, probably
.
He battled claustrophobia for a few uncomfortable seconds. Lord knows how long he had been unconscious but he had obviously been drugged,
again
. There was no way he would have slept through a change naturally and his wound just wasn’t bad enough to take that much out of him. In fact it felt like it was already healing.

A few more minutes of investigation told him that the door latch was on the top corner of the box. Just out of reach of his questing fingers. Cam growled in frustration. Resigned for the moment to his captivity, he concentrated his other senses on figuring out where he was. It was comfortably warm, even though he was still naked from shifting. He could hear the steady drone of air-conditioning so he knew he was in a building. And where there was air-conditioning there were generally people. Why couldn’t he hear them? He stuck his nose to the metal grate and breathed deeply. It stank like a hospital. Disinfectant, soap, and chemicals and the faint
odor
of blood that always seemed to linger in those places.

Bright lights flicked on, blinding him momentarily. Cam squinted against it and saw that he was in a wooden animal crate with a metal cage door. The crate was sitting in a small, blindingly white room, facing a wall made almost entirely from thick glass. Beyond the glass, he could see an equally sterile hallway with a surveillance camera high up on the wall pointing into the cell.
What the hell
?
The heavy door opened to the left of the window and a white-coated man backed into the room. Sounds flooded through after him. Distant voices—too far to make out the words, and some kind of machinery, as well as the faint ringing of a cell phone. Cam realized the room had to be soundproofed and the reasons why that might be necessary made his skin crawl.

Scents drifted through the open door but before he could analyze them, something else brought him to full alert.
Jayne
. Her distinct fragrance tormented him and he cursed himself soundly for not recognizing that the
Ceangal
hadn’t been missing. When
White coat
cleared the doorway, Cam saw that he and another man were guiding a gurney upon which Jayne lay, eyes closed. She was fully dressed in a sweater and jeans. Her cheeks were flushed pink and he could just detect the steady whisper of her breath.

His fingers curled tightly around the bars of his cage, the press of the cold reinforced steel turning them a bloodless white. Rage swept through him, quick and hot that anyone would dare to lay their hands on his mate. The cat’s fury bubbled up inside him,
fueling
his own. It wanted to throw itself bodily against the door, uncaring that the carrier was designed to resist such attacks. The second man glanced warily at the crate as they passed. Cam growled low in his throat, lips curled in an unmistakable warning. The scent of the man’s fear tainted the air.
Good
.
He should be afraid
.

When they moved out of his sight, he heard the snick of brakes being applied and then the ripping of Velcro as they unfastened the straps securing Jayne.

“Help me put her on the bed.”

“Are we not going to…eh…secure her?”

“No, the professor wants her loose. Come on, let’s get out of here before she wakes up properly, the drug is only meant to last a few hours and it took that long to get them here.”

This time neither man glanced his way as they hurriedly pushed the empty trolley back out of the room. The door closed and Cam heard the clunk of a locking system engage. The harsh lights stayed on, a brutal reminder that they were prisoners. He glared toward the glowing red eye of the surveillance camera, hating the knowledge that someone was watching their every move.

Jayne mumbled sleepily and he heard the rustle of fabric as she moved. His anger faded, replaced by guilt. This was his fault. He should have asked one of the team to protect her in the very beginning, at least then she would have been safe. The cot squeaked and she groaned.

“M’
goin
’ to kill those assholes for giving me the hangover from hell.”

He dipped his head in relief and ran a weary hand over his face. “Wonderful. I’ll help you, but could you get me out of here first?”

“Cam? Are you all right?” More squeaking and rustling, followed by quick footsteps. “What the hell?” She crouched in front of the grate and he did his best to hide his humiliation at being caged like an animal.

“My sentiments exactly…I’m fine, just a little sore.”

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea,” he nodded toward the hallway, “but smile for the camera.”

“Oh fabulous. We’ve been kidnapped by a crazed voyeur.” She smiled but there was fear in her eyes. “Hang on and I’ll get you out of there.”

With quick fingers, she unlatched the door and stepped back to let him crawl free. He scrambled to his feet and ran anxious hands over his mate, checking for injuries and finding nothing obvious. There was blood on her knees and cuffs. He frowned and touched her sleeve, but even as he started to question his nose told him the answer.
His
.
“Are you all right?”

“I’m okay, my head is throbbing but I got off more lightly than you. Lord, Cam, I thought you would bleed to death.” She stared at his half-healed shoulder in amazement before throwing her arms around him. He felt her relief. “Wow…how long was I asleep?”

Cam held her in his arms for a moment, let himself comfort and be comforted before letting go. “No’ as long as you think, I heal quickly.” He glanced around at the rest of their cell. There was a cot against the back wall with an olive-green blanket and one pillow. Folded on the bottom was a pair of light blue
pajama
-like trousers and a top to match. In one corner was a sink and toilet and in the other corner there was a table and chair bolted to the floor.

That was it.

He looked back at his mate. “How did you even know I was hurt?”

“I heard the gunshot.”

Cam narrowed his eyes in growing suspicion. “The secure room is soundproofed, how could you possibly have heard the shot in there?” She cringed. “You
didnae
go, did you?” He swept his hand through his tangled hair and began to pace out his agitation. “
Dammit
, Jayne! If you’d gone to the room when I asked, you would have been safe!”

“And you might be dead!” Jayne threw up her hands. “Don’t you growl at me! It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway because they would have still come looking for me. They knew I was there.”

He rounded on her, snarling. “They
wouldnae
have killed me, they obviously want me alive and they
couldnae
have got to you if you were in there.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “They could.” She stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest and that one touch was enough to halt his restless motion. “Because I’d still have come out as soon as they told me you were hurt.” The certainty in her voice deflated his anger. She walked away from him and picked up the clothes from the end of the bed, dismissing the subject.