Hunting Human (11 page)

Liz nodded.

“Our phones may not have even worked out here. But without GPS, the best thing we could find is moving water. With any luck the river will lead us to a road, or a town, or something. Follow it for as long as you can, don’t stop unless you absolutely have to.”

“What about at nightfall? I hate to say it, but I doubt those men are the only things out here we should worry about.”

“No, but they’re the immediate threat. Your priority should be to put as much distance between you as possible. You should be able to see well enough once night falls. The blue moon’s tonight.”

“What is that? I remember Markko talking about it in the clearing, but I didn’t know what he meant.”

“Every couple of years, we get two full moons in a single month. The second one is tonight.”

A bubble of laughter surprised her. “Sorry, sorry.” She waved off Allison’s startled expression. “Come on, you have to admit that the fact that there’s a rare full moon tonight adds a certain cliché air to the whole thing.”

Allison laughed. “You have a point.”

Both girls turned when they heard Rachel let out a long string of curses. She’d slipped and landed flat on her butt in the same place both Liz and Allison had. “I swear those rocks are out to get us.”

Allison sparkled with the last of the laughter, then turned serious. “She came down on her own though. That’s good.”

“And I guess that means it’s time.” Every fiber in her body screamed at Liz to beg Allison to stay with them. It would be so much easier with her steady, calming influence.

“Yeah.” Allison shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, then pulled Liz into a brief one armed hug. “You can do this.”

Liz hugged her back. “We can all do this.”

“Hey, Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“When you get home, look me up. I’m in the Denver area.” Allison smiled. “We’ll form a group, or have a drink.” She shrugged. “You know, whatever.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that.” Liz forced herself to turn and walk back to Rachel, blocking out the sound of her strongest ally heading the opposite direction.

“Where’s she going?” Rachel asked, watching Allison’s retreat.

“The same place we are, Rach.” Liz slipped her arm through Rachel’s and pulled her to her feet. “Home.”

“Jesus, Chase,” Braden snarled, frustrated hands gripping the wheel as he merged onto the highway. “Was the Taser necessary?”

“You know it’s the only way to interrupt a shift that far gone,” Chase answered. “There is no telling what she might have done once shifted. Bad enough Markko slipped away, we needed to secure her. Get some answers.”

“Who knows if he’ll be back?” Anger boiling under the surface, Braden forced his foot to let up on the accelerator.

The last thing you need right now is to get pulled over.

“Are we taking her out to your parents?” Chase asked.

“Our parents,” Braden barked out, anger and adrenaline shortening his temper to the length of a match. “Our parents, dammit. And yes. Dad can deal with her.”

I’m done.

Chase blew out a frustrated sigh and then pitched his voice as though speaking to a young child. “We can’t be sure of anything yet.”

“You saw her!” Braden’s head jerked to the side, then back to the road, his brother’s calm facade infuriating. “She was more than midshift—don’t tell me you didn’t see it. She bears the Prime Mantle, Chase. By bite or by blood, she’s related to those bastards.”

“The same could be said for me,” Chase stated quietly, turning to stare out the window.

Several long minutes passed, the still quiet of the car a direct contrast to the turmoil raging in Braden’s head. He thumbed the radio controls on his steering wheel and adjusted the volume to screaming. But even Zeppelin couldn’t silence the storm in his mind.

Idiot.

Chase had tried to warn him something wasn’t right. That the coincidence was too great.

But did I listen? No.

He’d never seriously thought Beth was anything other than what she presented herself to be. A cute, sweet, waitress who worked at Angie’s. He’d pursued her. Allowed himself to become involved with her.

Hell, he
cared
about her.

Even now, a part of him wondered if she was okay. Could she breathe in the trunk? Was she seriously hurt? Conscious?

Disgust wiped away the thoughts. He should have known better, been more careful. He had no right to feel so hurt, so
betrayed.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?
The real reason fury raged through him. Anger he could have dealt with, gotten over and brushed aside. But betrayal? It only turned the anger inward, set him raging against himself for being so ensnared by Beth that he couldn’t pull free and walk away.

When did I grant her that much power?

Enough was enough. Whatever he felt for Beth he’d manage. He’d get her to his parents’ house. Let Chase and his father deal with her. He had a life in Portland.

One that doesn’t include Beth.

The thought churned acid in his gut.

Whatever. Focus on something else.

Braden killed the radio. “I’ve never considered you one of them, Chase.”

“Yeah.” Chase responded dutifully.

“I’ve never considered you one of them. Or tainted by them. Chase…”

“I know.” Chase turned away from the window, his quiet gaze focused on Braden. “I know that.”

Chase didn’t say anything for a long moment, but didn’t turn back to the window either. “It’s unreasonable to believe that I’m the only one who’s ever been unwillingly infected by their filth.”

“It’s unreasonable to assume your circumstances apply to her.”

“Is it?”

“Fine. What’s more likely? Beth, an American who doesn’t appear to have any ties to Eastern Europe is turned, accidentally, maliciously,
whatever
and finds her way to Portland and coincidentally into my bed? Me, a werewolf with a Prime lineage?” Braden paused, searching for words that didn’t scrape against his pride like sandpaper against skin. “Or, that she was sent here to seduce her way into my bed, for information, destruction or whatever,” he said, forcing air through his nose. “Which is more likely, Chase?”

“I think you’re giving them a lot of credit. They’re more the blunt instrument types than meticulous plotters. They don’t have the patience. Maim, torture and murder is more their speed,” Chase countered.

“Fine, so it’s a more sophisticated plan. But hardly unbelievable. And still more likely than mere coincidence. They’ve been attempting to end our line in one way or another for centuries. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken them this long to try something like this.”

“I’m not saying it’s impossible.” Chase sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Hell, it’s even likely.”

“Then what’s your point with all this?” Braden set his teeth and resisted the urge to strangle the steering wheel or his brother. “You were the one that wanted me to be cautious. Insisted she had a connection to Markko. So what’s changed in the last hour? What, Chase? Because from what I saw, we have more than enough reason to assume she’s involved with him.” Braden ground his teeth, the muscles along his jaw popping.

“That’s your anger and your ego talking.” Chase shrugged off Braden’s furious expression. “It’s true. Your pride’s hurt. You aren’t looking at things rationally.”

“She’s a werewolf. And a Prime descendant. What the fuck am I not seeing?”

“How about, she didn’t change at will?” Chase snapped back. “How about, she didn’t have control of her shift!”

“So she’s a young wolf, new to the shift.”

“Yeah, but even early transformations brought on by the lunar cycle, or by circumstances that trigger the change as a self-defense mechanism, don’t take the length of time hers did. They don’t induce that kind of pain, either.”

“So she tried to maintain the illusion. Keep her cover,” Braden said, hanging on to the anger. Anger was easier. Safer. If he allowed for doubt, he’d drive himself crazy.

“Maybe,” Chase acknowledged. “But why was she so scared?”

Beth
had
been panicked when she’d slammed into him outside her home. Focusing on the moment, Braden tried to bring every detail into crystal clear focus. She’d been breathing hard, her pulse racing, pupils blown in panic.

She’d looked terrified.

He fought back the wave of compassion that that swept through him

Focus on the facts.

So she’d been scared. She could have seen him pull in, thought if he saw Markko the game would blow up in her face and panicked. He rolled the scene through his mind again, trying to gauge her reactions, understand her motivations.

The vision of her, terrified and pulling at his arm wouldn’t leave him. There’d been blood on her face. Had Markko hurt her?

Bastard. If he touched her…

The image of her crouched on the pavement midshift superseded his thoughts. He saw white fur springing up along the spine and shoulders he’d spent the previous night mapping with hands and tongue. He could see delicate hands that had clenched around his as they’d climaxed together, curling into paws.

Fury rushed him.

No matter what, one thing was certain. Beth was not who she claimed to be. She’d deceived him, lied to him.

Whatever relationship we built is gone. If it even existed in the first place.

***

Beth jerked awake. The steady thrum of the car on the highway coupled with the oppressive heat of the truck had pushed her into an exhausted sleep.

Just as well
.

Sleep was infinitely better than the path her thoughts had traveled after the trunk of Braden’s car had slammed her into darkness.

Beth squeezed her eyes shut against fresh tears.

How could I have been so stupid?

So trusting?

Despite initial reservations, she’d ignored her own common sense and fallen into bed with Braden. After spending so much time looking over her shoulder, she’d missed the threat standing right in front of her.

Fool. Duped by a sweet smile and a gentle hand.

Humiliation fueled her anger. She should never have gotten involved with Braden. She’d sensed it when she met him. But had she stopped herself? Had she listened to the whispered thoughts, the ones warning her nothing that good would come from an intimate relationship?

No. Of course not.

Beth cursed herself as tears of shame squeezed out from beneath her lashes. Common sense had told her she couldn’t have a relationship with anyone. How could she hide her disease long-term? Honesty was out of the question. What guy wouldn’t run screaming the other direction?

But here she was, back where the whole nightmare had started. Bound, lying in the dark of a car, being carted God knew where by some freak. But this time was worse. This time she’d trusted, hell, she’d
loved
the bastard.

Well, screw him.

Markko and his fucking brother hadn’t killed her—she’d be damned if she let Braden have the pleasure. He’d had enough pleasure at her expense already.

Beth rolled to her side and pulled her knees to her chest. She took a deep breath, willed her muscles to go loose and tried to slip her butt through the loop of her arms. She didn’t even get halfway before the zip ties cut into her wrists. Agony ate at her willpower, filling her head with thoughts of quitting.

No!

She pulled the memory of Braden shifting from man to beast to the front of her mind. Incomprehensible fury overrode the pain and fear, giving her the strength to pull her arms behind her knees.

Panting, Beth allowed herself to rest, hands linked behind her knees.

I can do this.

She pulled her locked hands over her sneakers. Fire scorched against the nerves in her arms. Worse, her struggle reignited the pain in her back and ribs. She wasn’t sure what they’d done to stop her change in the driveway, but it had left a lasting impression.

Unwilling to wallow, Beth pulled her arms to her chest and tried to assess how tightly the ties bound her wrists. She wiggled her fingers experimentally and then rubbed her wrists together. Blood smeared across her skin, dripping down her arms and into her palms. The ties were just too tight to slip out of. She needed something to cut through them.

Okay, forget the ties. Find a way out of the trunk.

During her freshman year of college, she’d dragged Rachel to a school sponsored self-defense class. The instructors had talked about what to do if they were ever pushed into the trunk of their car. A smile touched the side of her mouth. She only remembered the discussion because she and Rachel had spent most of the lecture coming up with ways someone could end up locked in the trunk of their own car. Werewolf kidnapping had never crossed their minds.

“I bet you’re laughing your ass off, Rachel.”

Beth tried to look through the darkness surrounding her. Weren’t trunk releases supposed to glow in the dark? She leaned forward and ran her hands along the top of the trunk, feeling for anything that felt like a release.

Nothing.

Nixing the idea, Beth moved on. The instructors had mentioned something about kicking out the taillights and trying to flag down other motorists.

Worth a shot.

“Yes!” Beth did a triumphant butt wiggle when her fingers found a plastic panel in the corner of the trunk. Working her fingers in and around the edges she slowly pried it off. A dim red glow of the taillight illuminated the dark corner.

Beth slowly maneuvered until her feet pressed against the exposed taillight. She felt around with the toe of her shoe, took aim at the opening and kicked as hard as she could. The sharp crack of her shoe against plastic filled the silence around her. Beth strained against the silence of the car. Had they heard her? When she didn’t hear any shouting and the car didn’t slow, she assumed they hadn’t. This was going to be harder—and noisier—than she’d hoped.

Plan B?

Music blared to life in the car, filtering back to the trunk, startling her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, crank that music.”

Five minutes later sweat poured down her face, her foot throbbed and the taillight was still stubbornly clinging to the car.

Damn German luxury vehicles.

She released an exasperated sigh.

Time for plan B.

What the hell is plan B?

Maybe there was something she could use packed in with the spare tire? Fingers extended and groping, Beth reached along the edge of the trunk and pried up the carpet, scooting backward as she pulled the carpet as far back as it would go. Pressing it beneath her, Beth rolled over it and directly into the compartment holding the spare.

Beth ran her fingers around the outer edge, trying to find something useful. Her fingers struck fabric. She pulled the small bag with her toward the taillight, using the meager light to examine her find.

Unzipping the package, Beth rooted around on the inside, pulling out what felt like a manual and something compact and heavy; probably the jack. Fishing around for something a little more useful, Beth closed her fingers around a cool cylinder, about the length of a pencil and as wide as a quarter. Praying for a bit of luck, she twisted the top. A soft white beam of light erupted from the end. A flashlight!

Thrilled with the minor success, Beth pointed the flashlight back into the bag. The first couple of things she pulled out were useless, just some pop-up caution triangles for diverting traffic around a stalled car. But the next item held far more promise. The bag included a small first aid kit.

She used her teeth to tear through the plastic surrounding the kit, popped the lid and pointed the flashlight inside. Band-Aids, some packets of pills and ointments and a small roll of gauze. Nothing to help her out of the zip ties.

As she closed the lid she noticed a small package pressed to the roof of the kit. She dug it out and sighed in relief. Inside a zipped bag was a set of rubber gloves, a pair of tweezers and a tiny pair of scissors, slightly larger than the kind used for manicures. They were metal, not plastic, and seemed sturdy enough to cut through the ties on her wrists. She pushed the scissors between her palms, forcing the blades around the section of plastic binding her hands.