Jaxson (River Pack Wolves 1) - New Adult Paranormal Romance (18 page)

Jaxson felt the bindings around his wrists before anything else.

Awareness slowly faded in, but he kept his eyes closed, and his body inert. He wanted to jerk up from where he was sitting—some kind of hard surface was under him, probably a chair, hands bound together in front—but he knew better than that. This was his chance to evaluate his situation and remember how he got here before his captor knew he was—

A hard smack across the face whipped his head to the side.

Jaxson blinked his eyes open and turned to glare at whoever had just hit him.

“I juiced you with a stimulant,
Jaxson River.
Don’t play possum with me.” The man standing before him was mid-thirties, dark suit, clunky not tailored, lean-muscled body, and weasely eyes.
Government,
for sure. Too soft for military, possibly intelligence.

So, they’d been caught. At least Jaxson was moving up the food chain.

He straightened in the chair, subtly testing his restraints. Hands bound with zip ties in front of him. Legs bound as well, one to each leg of the chair. “I’m sorry, have we met?” Jaxson asked conversationally.

“I’m
shocked
you don’t remember me,” the man said with a smirk.

Jaxson pulled a fake scowl… but then it clicked. He was one of the men from the alleyway. The ones with the cattle prods. “Ah, yes, the one who brought the toys. Good times, Agent…?”

“You can call me Agent Smith.”
Agent Smith
chuckled at his own joke.

Jaxson shook his head, supposedly at the awful humor, but he was really using the opportunity to scan his surroundings. His men were bound and unconscious on the ground behind him. Several paramilitary types, probably hired muscle, were stationed around them, armed with holstered pistols. Jaxson couldn’t get a solid count in that short of a sweep, but there were maybe a dozen guards and more shifters than Jaxson had brought with him. Which meant civilians—they must be some of the original prisoners Smith had captured.

Jaxson peered up at the government thug in front of him. “You’re
adorable,
truly, Agent Smith.” He lifted his bound hands. “But you should know I’m not really into the bondage thing.” Then he focused inward, calling to his wolf. He could easily shift out of the zip ties, then take Smith as a hostage. He’d force the release of his pack and the other prisoners, then escape with whatever transport had brought them here. Only… his wolf was…
absent?

That must have shown on his face because Agent Smith’s chuckle grew deeper. “A little surprised are you, River? Not so easy being
just
a man, is it?”

Shit, shit, shit. 
A cold flush of fear trickled through Jaxson’s stomach. He turned it into a smile. “I know you’re still working on that
being a man
part, Agent Smith, so I won’t judge.” Jaxson focused harder, summoning his inner wolf with everything he had, but somehow Smith had disabled his shifting ability—all Jaxson could sense was a distant whimper, muffled, as if his wolf was bound up just like his wrists. But that stirred the magic in his blood, and a whisper of thoughts brushed his mind. At first, he thought the guards were talking behind him, but then he realized…
it was his pack.

The humor dropped off Agent Smith’s face. “As fun as this is, let’s get down to business.” He pounded a fist into Jaxson’s face that whipped his head back against the chair. It seriously jarred Jaxson’s focus… which was surely the intent.

He tasted blood in his mouth, which he took a moment to spit out and then glared at Smith. Jaxson had to keep the asshole talking while he sorted this out. “I should have realized you were into the rougher stuff, Agent Smith.” At the same time, he reached out with his mind to his pack. Were they rousing from the sedative enough to help?

Smith grinned. “I’ll admit, it was a pleasure to see you squirm on the ground like a dog, River. I would have enjoyed it even more had I known who you were at the time. We’ll have to reprise that little bit of fun. Soon. I’ll save it for when we’ve run out real work to do on you.”

“Can’t wait.” Jaxson gave Smith a bloody-mouthed smile, just to keep him off balance.

Murmurs from the pack’s thoughts washed over Jaxson’s mind.
Stay down! Stay down!
he broadcast to them. He was their alpha, so the command would automatically carry magical weight—a direct order was almost impossible to disobey—but most of them already knew to play possum until they had a plan.

Their responses echoed back.

Aye, aye, Captain!

Here, boss.

Yes, sir.

Jaxson…
that last one was Jared. Their brother, Jace, wouldn’t be able to communicate, even if he was awake, but with Jared at the ready…
All I need is a gun, brother.
Jared’s thoughts rang clear in his mind. His brother was a sharpshooter in the Marines, but he had shifter-fast reflexes and deadly aim at every distance.

I’m on it. 
That was Daniel from the Wilding pack.
Need a little time.

Time was something Jaxson could buy them. He peered up at the government thug still smirking down at him. “What exactly is it you want, Agent Smith?”

“I’d like to know
exactly
where you’ve stashed the Wilding kid. And the rest of her pack. I had special plans for her.” Agent Smith’s grin was too much.

Jaxson growled deep in his chest. It took everything he had to resist lunging at Smith. His pack was keeping quiet on the outside, but their mental growls were so loud they almost crowded out Smith’s next words.

“Aww… you’ve got a soft spot for her.” Smith leaned forward, hands on knees, grinning in Jaxson’s face. “Nice. I’ll have to use that at some point.”

“I’m really going to enjoy watching you die,” Jaxson ground out.

Smith laughed and straightened up. “Big talk for a man tied to a chair. And a shifter unable to shift. You’re clearly incompetent in the leadership department as well. You’ve already delivered most of your pack to me—and trust me, we’ll be rounding up the others soon enough. Not much of an alpha, are you, River? And once we relocate, I’ll have the truth serum pumping through you. Then you’ll spill every little thing I want to know. You might as well give up the Wilding location to me now.”

“How about you fuck off instead?” Jaxson held his gaze.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Oh, I was hoping you would say that.” He hit Jaxson again, this time hard enough to screech the chair legs against the concrete floor. Jaxson took his time recovering—as if the punch actually knocked him hard enough to matter—so he could gain more situational awareness. Cavernous metal building. Smelled of gasoline. Tanks and industrial equipment lined the edges. A large garage door that constituted most of one wall was actually rolled up and open to the night air. Dark had descended while they were passed out, which was why Jaxson hadn’t noticed the open door at first. Outside was a small plane, built for just a few passengers, but a substantial cargo hold. The only sounds drifting through the open hangar door were crickets, but the airplane lights were on. Was Smith planning on flying them all out? And if so, to where?

Jaxson shook his head like he was clearing it.

“Oh, come on, River,” Agent Smith complained, looking disgusted. “The girl would have put up more of a fight than this.”

Jaxson whipped his glare up to Smith. “What part of
fuck off
did you not understand?” he growled.
I’m losing my patience with this asshole, Daniel.
He pushed the thought out to Wilding.

This time, Smith came up from below with a punch to his jaw, then followed that with one to the right and another from the left. Jaxson let Smith beat on him without resistance, but when the last punch slipped off his face, slick with something, Jaxson had to look.

Smith was holding his hand, which was dripping with red. Could be Jaxson’s blood, but the way Smith was holding it, more likely he busted his knuckles pummeling Jaxson’s face.

Jaxson had to fight to repress the laugh bubbling up inside him.

Ready on your signal. 
Daniel’s thought pinged clearly in Jaxson’s head.
Murphy and I have a plan
.

Does this plan involve getting Jared a gun? 
Jaxson still stared at Smith’s cradled hand.

Yes, sir, 
Daniel responded.

Wait for my move, 
Jaxson thought.
Then we all go. Priority is on getting Jared the weapon, then getting the prisoners out.

Yes, sir!

Jaxson lifted his chin to point to Smith’s hand. “Aww… did you hurt your hand, Agent Smith?” He used a voice so patronizing that even the smallest shifter pup would have been insulted. “Can I get you a band-aid?”

Smith gritted his teeth and came at Jaxson. Just as he reached the chair, Jaxson whipped his bound hands up to catch Smith under the chin. Then he popped up from the seat, brought his arms back down, and looped them around Smith’s neck. Jaxson spun the chair still attached to his legs and dragged Smith in front of him as a human shield. Smith grabbed at his neck, struggling to breathe, but Jaxson’s choke-hold was solid. And it would only take a small twist to end Smith’s struggles for good.

Jaxson quickly cased the battlefield, but all hell had already broken loose.

All the shifters were up on their feet, swinging their bound wrists like clubs or taking hopping leaps at the guards with their zip-tied boots. In the melee, one of his pack had somehow found a knife, which was quickly flipping from one shifter to the next as they sliced through their zip ties. A few had their fangs out, biting their way free. Then a gun sailed through the air, from Daniel to Jared…

Hit the deck! 
Jaxson mentally blasted to all of his pack. Like one, they dropped to the ground… all except Jared, who Jaxson had shielded from his command. Jaxson flung himself and Agent Smith to the floor, landing with the man under him and the chair on top. Jared spun a fast circle, shooting the now-exposed guards rapid fire with dead-on aim—a couple managed to drop and scramble behind the civilian prisoners on the floor, who were just now rousing out of their sedative with the commotion.

“Hold your fire!” Jaxson shouted, but Jared had already checked his aim, pointing his gun to the ceiling to avoid hitting the prisoners. One of the guards popped up with a female shifter as a shield and started firing. Jared went down. Then Agent Smith heaved Jaxson up into the air, exposing him above the huddled masses on the floor. He caught a bullet, and it slammed him back harder than any of Agent Smith’s punches. Jaxson fell backward, but his legs were still bound to the chair—that, plus the screaming pain of the gunshot wound, weakened his grip on Agent Smith. He wormed out of Jaxson’s hold and twisted to slam two punches straight into Jaxson’
s wound. He convulsed with the pain, and black spots shot in front of his vision. By the time he blinked them clear, Agent Smith was gone.

Jaxson breathed out the pain and curled up to sitting. The melee was in full force again.

Someone had taken out the guard with the gun. Shifters were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the guards still left, which meant their weapons must be disabled or out of reach. Jaxson was hobbled by the chair, so he stayed down, casting a look around for Agent Smith.
He was running away.
The coward was making for the plane outside.

Something tugged at Jaxson’s legs—he twisted to find Murphy slicing him free of the chair and then cutting his hand ties. Once out of his restraints, Jaxson sprinted toward Jared, but Jace was already there, lifting him up. Jared’s shirt was covered with blood, but Jace gave Jaxson a quick nod—Jared would live.

If they got out.

Priority on the prisoners! 
Jaxson mentally shouted. A few of his pack were still engaged with the guards, but most were cutting the ties of the prisoners. Jaxson clutched his arm to cap the bleeding, then hustled toward the door at the back of the hangar, hoping like crazy there were actually vehicles outside. When he slammed the door open, two white vans shone in the moonlight.

Out the back! 
he commanded, and the pack moved as one, leaving the guards they were fighting and half carrying the prisoners as they fled. Jaxson held the door as they streamed out of the hangar and to the van. He waited for the last of them to straggle through. The two guards still moving were scrabbling around their fallen compatriots. One came up with a gun, which he pointed at the last of the escaping prisoners.

Jaxson yanked the final one through the door as the shots pinged the sheet metal. He sprinted with him to the vans, catching up with the last prisoners loading in.

“Go! Go! Go!” he shouted as he pulled the van doors shut behind him. The guards probably wouldn’t pursue them, but Jaxson didn’t want any last-minute casualties, not with vans full of civilians.

They were crammed in—Murphy was driving, Daniel riding shotgun with a couple female civilians jammed in with him, including one on his lap. The back was cramped with seven more prisoners, half of them bleeding. But they made room for Jared, who was laid out on the floor with Jace bending over him. The rough bounce of the van worked against Jaxson as he stumbled to kneel by his brothers.

“Is he all right?” Jaxson asked Jace.

“He will be.” Jace’s lack of flippant answer made Jaxson’s stomach clench. “He needs to be sewn up, which I can’t do until we pull over and sit still for a while.”

“Murphy!” Jaxson called. “What’s our ETA to parking?”

“Need some distance, boss!”

“Copy that,” he threw back. “We also need some surgery. ETA!”

There was silence for a moment—Daniel was consulting the GPS. “Four minutes to a good spot to go to ground,” he shouted above the tire crunching and creaking of the van. A good, hard bounce forced a groan out of Jared, but then the ride went smooth. They were back on paved road.

Jace was an Army medic and had stitched up more humans and shifters than almost anyone Jaxson knew. “Four minutes?” Jaxson asked. Would it be enough?

Jace gave him a nod. “Four minutes.”

Jaxson tipped his head to the bleeding prisoners behind him. “Tend to the others.” They had been in Agent Smith’s custody—
their injuries were probably minor, but God only knew what Smith did to them before Jaxson’s pack freed them.