Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance) (11 page)

Both he and Trick agreed wholeheartedly with Moss’s instincts. “Did Grace pop in by chance?” Damien whispered urgently, yet low as possible.

“No. I thought she stayed with you. Hell, sure as shit sounded like you roomed together with all the racket. Man, shit about came off the walls and all.”

Yeah, he and Grace had gotten rather wild, but not so crazed things should have flown off the walls.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh dude … headboard, wall. Boink, boink. I really gotta explain anymore?” Trick’s cocky attitude this early coupled with Grace’s vanishing act left him wanting to thump the kid. Hard. Square between the eyes.

Apparently picking up the physical aggression from Damien, Moss jumped in.

“Grace is gone. We wanted to check if you’d seen or spoken to her.”

“No. Actually tried to zone out the ruckus they caused last night.” Even Trick had a concerned serious look crossing his face.

“Thing is, we, uh, didn’t get overly rambunctious. Maybe loud, but not wall thumping crazy.” Damien didn’t plan on going into the explanation their position in bed would have not moved the massive and heavy solid teak wood headboard. He and Grace had
not
made the commotion Trick described.

“You remember what time all the wall banging began?” Moss asked.

“I didn’t exactly look at the clock, but probably around two
A.M.
Please tell me you two got your jiggity on then.” Apprehension crept across Trick’s face.

“No. The ruckus didn’t stem from us. Let me rephrase. Least not from a conscious us.”

“Damn, dude. I woulda busted a bad guy’s ass. I thought you two were getting it on like rabbits again. Fuck. I coulda done something.” Trick slammed his fist into the bathroom wall next to him cursing up a storm.

“Sssh. Remember. We don’t understand how our hosts fit into all this, and until we do, the least they know the better.” Moss urged caution and quiet.

“Yeah, but man. I fucked up like royally good.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the guilt that weighed heavy on Trick’s mind.

“Look, kid, this isn’t your fault. No way could you have suspected what was really going down. What I need to figure out is why I didn’t awaken through the melee right beside my head. How I slept through that much chaos.” Damien raked a hand through his hair.”

“Slept through what, and why are you guys all huddled in the bathroom whispering? Hey, where is Grace? She head down to breakfast already?”

All three men, no matter how mighty, jumped like firecrackers went off in their asses.

Damien hadn’t formulated yet how to explain to Grace’s niece her aunt’s sudden disappearance. It would have been wasted energy anyhow, as Trick blurted out an apology, which sent Beth into a full on tizzy.

“Where the fuck were you at? She slept right next to you. How could you not notice her getting kidnapped?” Damien ignored the sharp jabbing finger in his chest. She only asked the very thing he couldn’t figure out himself. He didn’t blame her for the accusations contained in her questions.

“Wait. You said breakfast. Did someone knock and announce it was meal time or what?” Moss asked, finally catching onto what she’d said upon arriving.

“Yeah. Coyt came up to tell us. He didn’t linger, just knocked, announced grub was ready, and asked if I would let you guys know. Told him yeah and he left. Why?” Hope brightened her pale worried face.

“Is there any way Grace just headed down before us?” Moss quizzed.

“Not unless she went half naked,” Damien reminded them.

“Well I’m heading down and asking anyway.” Beth started out the door, but Moss grabbed her and stopped her.

“How can we be sure they’re not involved?”

“We can’t. But they have cameras, right? I’m willing to bet they aren’t behind her disappearance and those cameras can show what the hell went down last night. There isn’t time to pussy foot around all this.”

Moss nodded in agreement and Damien knew that again, the group had been forced into no choice but to trust the B.E.A.R. organization. While he wasn’t one to trust easily, he also wasn’t a moron. Right now whether he liked it or not, the B.E.A.R. group was their best chance at discovering what happened to Grace.

They headed to catch up with Beth, who’d stormed out before they’d all agreed. Moss had his hands full with his woman. Headstrong didn’t quite cover Beth adequately, but it happened to be the only polite term to come to mind.

Her heavy steps down the stairs echoed her level of agitation. Worry prompted each one.

“So we need access to your security tapes, like right now,” she blurted entering the dining room.

The clanging spoons and forks in dishes that steam rose from in the dining hall abruptly stopped.

“Well good morning to you as well,” Coyt stated, rising to walk to them.

“Actually it’s not. Grace disappeared and we’ve reason to believe she was abducted from your so-called ‘secure environment.’ I mean that was one of the reasons you urged us all to stay last night, wasn’t it? That your compound stood more secure than Grace’s cabin? Well, so much for that theory. Now, the tapes please.”

A pin drop would have caused more noise than the sudden breathless state overtaking the room by the time Beth finished blasting their faulty secure systems.

“Of course. Follow me.” Coyt, too, had grown silent and serious. The entire room eyeballed one another before jumping into action with exclamations to checkout every security feature and alarm system the place housed.

Coyt ushered the group towards an elevator, slid a key card through a special security mechanism, then when a small box slid out of the wall, placed his thumb securely in its center. Within a moment, a small beep occurred and the small box maneuvered back into its hidden spot as the elevator doors slid open with a whoosh.

“If anything has happened to her after all your assurances of safety … ” Damien didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t trust himself to think of the possibilities in such close quarters. So far he’d managed to hold his anxiety in place. But as the minutes without Grace went on, the edgier and less grounded he became.

“Don’t worry, shifter. We’ll get your woman back … if, that is, she was taken.”

In a flash before any thought registered, Damien had Coyt by his throat and up against the elevator wall. Red marred his vision as he squeezed. Oblivious to the others’ cries to let the man go, he wanted to maim, hurt, kill. Would accept nothing short of.

How dare he insinuate Grace would be anywhere except here with him. She wouldn’t have just up and gone, and this asshat dared mention her as if she’d skipped out. As if she were a mole or some other complete bullshit. It would be the last damn thing he thought or said about her.
Ever.

“Please, please let Uncle Coyt go. He didn’t mean anything by what he said.”

Somehow through the fog of pure rage, the sweet, pleading voice reached him. As Damien’s vision cleared, he saw the man he held by the throat. Red faced and lacking oxygen and quite near ready to die. Damien released him and backed against the far wall. Took deep breaths to try and contain the need to rip him to shreds. Beth stood next to him. Speaking in soothing tones. He didn’t comprehend what she said, only that it was calm and reassuring. Trick stood between him and Coyt, trying to, he assumed, block his view of the bastard. Moss picked the near unconscious ass and with the young girl’s help, assisted him off the lift.

Finally Damien sensed he could move without the need to physically harm anyone. He shook his head a few more times and with breathing back in check, turned ready to face the consequences of his actions. No, he didn’t give a shit about Coyt, but frightening the girl as he had? The fear he’d seen in her eyes. Well that was different. Made him feel like a total douche.

Wisely they’d taken Coyt somewhere else, but now a man stood before them and he didn’t seem too happy with the events. Like Damien gave a flying shit.

“I trust you’re in better control of yourself now?”

“I’d have no control issues if you had proper charge over your compound or yellow-bellied men who want to blame an innocent woman for being abducted,” Damien sneered, once again fighting to contain the anger.

“Whoa, let’s say we all start over. Shall we?”

Moss appeared from around a corner and headed straight toward them. Obviously his friend was concerned over a repeat performance.

“And you are?” Beth asked, peeved and highly agitated herself.

“They call me Squire, and I run B.E.A.R. How can I help you?”

“Good. The dude in charge. Now, where are the tape recordings from last night?”

“To which tapes are you referring?” Damien sensed the man, for whatever reason, attempted to stall them.

“Look, asswipe, my aunt has been abducted and we need to review your security tapes now. Not in a minute, right damn now.” Beth seethed, stomping towards Squire aggressively enough Moss shadowed her steps in case the need for obvious intervention occurred. Damien didn’t doubt if this Squire man didn’t take them to the surveillance room asap, Moss wouldn’t be pulling just one person off a B.E.A.R. member, but two.

“Grace is missing? How? When?” Squire grew serious in the blink of an eye.

No one else caught it, but he did. They’d never told him her name. But it was far more than that. The way Squire said Grace’s name, like she was a Goddess and he but her servant unworthy of speaking her name, made Damien’s gut roil. Both he and Grace suspected more was going on than met the eye. They’d been right. His only concern now though was the tapes and getting Grace back. Then he’d dig into just how familiar Squire was with Grace. Oh yeah. Dude seriously would get a face alteration. Grace was his. Period.

“Sometime during the night,” Damien spat, biting back the rest of his words, still reeling over the fact he’d not awakened during her abduction. And still suffering a pounding ass headache.

“Who was first to knock on her door and notice her gone?”

Hell fucking yeah.
His shot at Squire came earlier than he hoped.

“I awoke to find the bed empty early this morning.” Words and steel combined as Damien verbally laid claim to his woman.

Squire’s gaze took him in. Shock, anger then control slipped back into his expression. The man might know Grace, but for now was keeping the information to himself.

“And nothing was out of place?” The man might be quiet, but Damien never failed to recognize a fellow shifter. In fact everyone he’d run across here at the compound was. Difference was, his animal reared as it sensed Squires was a challenger. An alpha encroaching on his turf. Their animal counterparts were rearing to get out. Prove dominance.

Yeah buddy.
After only a second of recovery, Squire’s holier than thou mask had returned.

“No. Nothing out of place and no oddities. Not a damn thing except waking to the flu. Not only is your compound not secure, it’s apparently host to a plague of viruses as well.”

“Wait, I thought Moss said shifters don’t get sick?” Beth picked up on the oddity.

“Not usually. But I awoke off-kilter and would swear my head is ready to explode.”

Damien couldn’t miss the worried look Beth shot Moss.

“Please, Squire, we need to review those tapes immediately. My aunt is gone, Damien probably drugged and we’re wasting precious time. Please.”

Squire took in the woman before him, and again Damien picked up on something unspoken but clear as a bell. He felt something toward Beth, too. What though?

“Of course, follow me.”

Beth and Moss on Squire’s heels, while he and Trick lingered in the back. Smart kid. He was taking in all his surroundings, no doubt bookmarking anything he thought would be useful.

“So, dude, spill. What’s the beef between you and these corn-fed boneheads?” Trick whispered once Squire and the others had gone further ahead.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Damien tried to downplay the kid’s questions. Now wasn’t the time and he wasn’t use to sharing his feelings anyway.

“C’mon, aren’t we past this? You can trust me, man. I caught the dope on how you wanted to rip Squire’s throat out. The way you almost did Coyt’s. Something has you on edge.”

“I can honestly say I don’t know.” And that was true. He didn’t know.

“Fine. But you don’t trust these ’tards anymore than I do. Am I right, man?”

Yep, Trick was still observing and noting things like windows or more doors. If Damien had a little brother, deep down he suspected he would be a lot like this kid.

A buzzing saved him from answering the kid’s twenty questions and their attentions turned toward a large set of double doors that opened at the end of the corridor.

Inside the room lights came alive in vast array of twinkling colors. Red, blue, and yellow all flickered life as monitors, motion sensors and control panels blinked furiously.

A few quick movements and their first question was answered. No, there hadn’t been any monitors in the rooms, only those they’d detected in the hallways. At first, the tapes reflected only lonely corridors. Then, if you’d blinked, you would have missed it. Dark shadows appeared on the walls like ink blots with nobody around to make them.

“I’ve seen them before,” Moss offered. “Back at Demetrius’s cave, when I’d gone through Octavia’s secret passageway. They’re abominations created by Demetrius.”

“Yeah, we ran into them as well that day,” Beth agreed “What are they?” Squire asked in genuine curiosity and concern.

“Well, according to Demetrius, more swamp gas than actual beings.”

“How is such a thing even possible?” Squire leaned closer to the monitor before him, stunned at the peculiar and menacing sight. The shadows left the walls and became silhouettes of men. Men who slid right through the door and into the room Grace and Damien had been given.

“With dark magic, I suppose nothing is off limits,” Beth whispered, her fear and worry for Grace clear.

“Excuse me, I sensed the commotion from up here and wanted to check on what was happening.”

They turned to find the woman named Red had appeared behind them. Odd Damien hadn’t sensed another’s presence. He should have, unless someone purposely cloaked their presence. Something again wasn’t right that neither he, nor it appeared Moss, had been aware of her arrival. The more he thought about the peculiar woman, the more his gut skittered with unease. She bore no particular scent he could detect. Everyone, shifter or other, carried a unique scent.