Vann's Victory (2 page)

Maybe that was why Sergeant had put Dillon in charge of this mission. Anyone willing to tackle him would
have
to be brave.

Dillon headed for the main doors that led outside. They had no heavy luggage—they didn’t plan on being here for long—each of them carrying a holdall with a change of clothes inside. Vann’s and Kip’s held items Sergeant had found for them, seeing as they’d turned up at Highgate as wolves.

Vann’s feet and legs ached, as if to remind him that they’d trekked across Texas to find his brother, Jace—endless days on foot and feasting on wildlife so they didn’t starve, drinking from streams. They’d slept fitfully during the night, hiding in woods or on roadsides that, if they’d been lucky to find them, had trenches that had given them some kind of security.

It seemed a lifetime ago that they’d made that journey.

Dillon held up one hand. Everyone from Highgate stopped behind him. There were ten of them in all. Vann hadn’t spoken to the others on the flight, but he’d listened as they’d gone over and over their plan of attack. It was a sound one, something Vann could imagine them pulling off well.

Providing Wickland was subdued first.

Dillon turned to face them, his eyebrows drawn together. “As you know,” he said quietly, leaning forward, “after I’ve been out to one of the cabs and give you the signal, we leave here and walk the short distance to our left where there’s a hotel. I’ll sign us all in then we’ll each go to our respective rooms. We rest up until dinner, which I believe is served at eight. We’ll talk more in the dining room. If we encounter resistance along the way, or even in the hotel, you know what to do.”

Vann thought about the sports bag that should be in one of the cabs outside those glass doors. Alpha Newart had arranged for it to be delivered. It contained small bags that held Tasers, something Vann had never used and never thought he would. He’d only ever seen them on TV. But in order to release the Crossways pack, he’d
have
to use one, no getting out of it.

“I’ll hopefully give the signal in a moment or two,” Dillon said.

He pushed one of the glass doors open then went outside. A driver four cars up in the snake of a cab queue waved a beefy hand, his bare, hairy arm thick and tanned. Dillon walked forward and Vann held his breath, praying no one from Crossways had gotten wind of the Taser handover and fucked everything up. The driver jerked his thumb into the back of his car. Was this where it all went wrong? Was someone in the back, waiting to drag Dillon inside?

Torn between watching Dillon and scoping the airport lounge again, Vann released his breath. Dillon opened the cab door, leaned in then pulled his head out, bag in hand.

A collective sigh of relief sounded, and Vann realized everyone here from Highgate had thought the same as him. Jesus, he was surprised they weren’t all a bag of nerves. And if they were like this now, what the fuck would they be like at Crossways?

Dillon closed the cab door then looked around. He lifted a hand to scratch his head—the signal—and one of the Highgate guys came forward from behind Vann to push the airport door open. He was a stocky, burly, black-haired guy, wider than Vann and packed with muscle. He stepped out onto the pavement, scanned the area then ushered everyone outside.

They followed Dillon down the path to a bench. There, Dillon hoisted the bag on top. He opened it, and each member of the mission crew dipped a hand inside to take out a smaller bag. Vann gripped his tightly, thinking that if they were ambushed now, none of them would have time to draw back the zips and pull out the Tasers. He glanced around nervously, hoping airport security weren’t watching. He spotted a camera over the road on a post in front of the car park. It was moving from its position of pointing at the airport doors, toward them.

“Camera,” Vann said. “Quickly.”

Dillon hung the sports bag on his shoulder and they walked on. Vann studied their group, his stomach in knots. The Taser bags looked like ones that came with hand-held cameras. Did the mission men appear as tourists? A bunch of guys maybe here for a bachelor party? He could only hope that was the case.

The hotel loomed before them, tall and majestic with its glass and chrome façade reflecting the sun, which didn’t seem to want to go to bed any time soon. Vann wanted
his
bed or at least a chair to sit on—his feet were still killing him—and was glad their mission wouldn’t begin until two a.m. They needed the cover of darkness to aid them.

When Dillon reached the hotel doors, Vann let out another breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. With Kip in his peripheral, Vann waited their turn to enter. The sun’s heat was intense on the back of his neck, and sweat soaked his T-shirt. He wanted a cool shower. The thought of it almost had him whimpering with longing.

Kip tugged at Vann’s sleeve again. Vann nodded.

“Shall I wash you, Sir? When you get in the shower?”

“If that’s what you want. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

Dillon entered the hotel. Their group followed, and the conditioned air was cold compared to outside. The sweat dried on Vann’s skin immediately, leaving it tight and uncomfortable. Everyone but Dillon sat on the seating in the foyer, as had been discussed on the plane. Vann looked around, seeking out spots where people could be hiding. The Highgate men did the same. Kip, however, bent his head and stared at the floor.

God, he loved Kip. His sub had such belief in him, even to the point of always entrusting his safety to Vann. This was no ordinary thing they were doing, but then again, neither was living at Crossways, and Kip had been the same there. Bennett’s men had lurked in hallways, ready to pounce out at Vann and Kip if they’d managed to grab some time alone.

Vann switched his attention back to the present. He shouldn’t keep allowing his mind to wander like that. And he needed to shield those types of thoughts more often. Kip didn’t need to hear that sort of crap. With Kip trusting him the way he did, Vann was doing him a disservice. Vann had promised to take care of him, to love him and make sure he came to no harm. Thinking about their life at Crossways while he was supposed to be checking out the hotel foyer wasn’t something he ought to be doing.

Focus. Our lives depend on it.

Dillon came to stand beside their chairs. He emitted a vibe, as though energy and purpose filtered out of him and into the air, suffusing everyone in his presence. The man seemed to be comfortable with himself and who he was. Vann hoped to be the same one day. Self-assured, confident. Dillon jerked his chin up then stalked away. Everyone followed him. The elevator arrived and they all stepped on board. Again, no one spoke. Vann opened his Taser bag, as did everyone else. Tense as the elevator stopped on their floor, Vann offered up a silent prayer.

Please, God, let there be no one in this hallway.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. Dillon eased out like a policeman or a seasoned army officer, Taser held out in front of him. Just what had he been employed as before he’d gone to Highgate? Whatever it was, Vann was grateful for the obvious training he’d had. Dillon was Head of Security at Highgate and Vann could see why. The man knew what he was doing as he went out into the hallway and scouted the area, pointing the Taser every which way before lowering it and giving the all clear.

Everyone vacated. Dillon nodded, giving the signal that he was about to check all their rooms. The laborious yet important wait while he did that further played on Vann’s nerves, but it was necessary. Being unable to help also pissed Vann off a bit. He was used to doing what Dillon was, checking everything was safe. But from what Vann could see, Dillon clearly wasn’t the type to leave anything to chance. Just like Vann.

Rooms cleared, Dillon handed out the key cards without saying a word then disappeared into number one hundred and four. Vann led Kip to one hundred and ten, feeling he was somehow duty bound to ensure the others went inside theirs first. He owed these people so much.

Watching their backs was the least he could do.

Chapter Two

Watching Vann from the corner of his eye was Kip’s specialty. He was a pro at it and had learnt to behave that way ever since he’d stepped foot on the soil at Crossways for the first time. Back then he’d had his mother to look after, but then Vann had come along and Kip had him to think of too. Until his mother was—

No. I won’t go there. Not at the moment.

He wanted to remain alert to anything his Dom might want of him, always. Sensitive to Vann’s needs, he waited for what he knew was to come once Vann had swiped their key card down the slot. The door clicked open and Vann stepped inside, Kip close at his heels. Even though Dillon had been in there already, Vann would check the room himself—closets, the bathroom, beneath the bed. Everywhere.

“Sit,”
Vann ordered.

Kip sat on the bed, bowed his head and clutched his open Taser bag. He had no qualms about using the weapon. People thought him meek and mild, but if they knew the feisty spirit that lived inside him, they’d soon think again. He hadn’t always lived at Crossways. He’d been lucky to experience life outside its constricting confines, and although his years at the compound had somewhat deadened his soul, he’d never doubted that he’d escape one day. Being with Vann had gotten Kip through, helped to keep insanity at bay. And there had been times Kip had thought he might go mad—mad with the need to get the pack to turn on Bennett and give him the same medicine he dished out to others. That he’d dished out to Kip’s mother.

Don’t think about that.

Instead, he went back to his previous musings about the Taser. If wielding such a dangerous item meant saving Vann, he’d do it—to save himself too. He didn’t want to have Vann go through losing him. He didn’t think the man could bear life without him. Vann’s thoughts had told him as much, especially when he’d been worrying that the plane would crash. Kip had purposely stared out of the window, keeping his own thoughts serene and happy so Vann would pick up on them and they’d help to calm him. Many a lonely night at Crossways had seen them talking to one another in their heads, getting close in mind when they couldn’t in body. And that had been one of the reasons Kip had wanted to escape that place so badly. To be allowed to touch and speak to Vann without fear of being caught and punished.

Not only that, but to seek help, to find someone who believed them about Bennett and who would help to bring him down. It turned out Bennett had brought himself down…

Kip shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. He kept an eye on Vann covertly, his heart bursting with love so Vann would feel it. At the moment, from what Kip could feel, Vann was on the edge, just about ready to blow a gasket through fear, panic and uncertainty. Kip hated for Vann to feel that way, but he knew it would take years—possibly their lifetime together—for Vann to accept and believe in freedom.

Kip had been surprised Vann had coped with their journey on foot from one side of Texas to the other. He’d expected him to jump at every little thing, each new experience too much in a short space of time. But he’d managed well enough, and here they were, in a hotel room after riding on a plane.

How times changed.

Used to Crossways living, Vann lifted things one after the other—lamps, the phone, even the comfortable-looking chair in the corner. He opened drawers then took off his shoes to stand on the bed and inspect the light fitting, unscrewing it to peer inside at the wires. He vanished into the bathroom then returned, pacing at the foot of the bed, resting his finger across his bottom lip. Nothing seemed to contain listening devices or cameras—and Vann knew all about those, having found so many when he’d done the same kind of inspection at Crossways.

It came naturally to Vann—after all, it had been a part of his daily life.

Kip coughed quietly. Vann stopped pacing and gave Kip his attention. Kip smiled. Vann returned it and his handsome face lightened Kip’s heart. He’d swear it had turned over. How would he have got through this without Vann—got through his adulthood so far, since Bennett had killed Kip’s mother? Their recent escape from Crossways had been fraught with danger. It was a miracle they’d slipped past the guards—a miracle because the two on duty had stolen a bottle of Bennett’s rum and had gotten themselves as drunk as lords. They’d been slumped against the wall, on their asses instead of their feet, fast asleep. The empty bottle wedged between them had been the accusatory, pointing finger, screaming about how they’d gotten into such a state.

Kip wondered what the guards punishment had been when they had been found like that, but he needn’t have bothered. He knew full well what would have happened. Bennett would have ordered that the guards be ripped to shreds by his loyal shifters—shifters Vann reckoned were only loyal because they were scared out of their wits.

“It’ll be all right, Sir. No need to think bad thoughts.”
Kip took hold of Vann’s hand. He kissed the back of it, letting his lips linger.
“We’re safe with these Highgate people. I feel it. Knew it as soon as I saw them in the woods after we first met Louie and Jace.”

Jace was someone Vann had yet to know. Time hadn’t been on their side but, God willing, when they returned to Highgate, maybe Vann and Jace could catch up on all the years they’d been forced to spend apart. Vann had confided in Kip, telling him, once they’d mated and could hear each other’s thoughts, how he longed to escape and find his brother so they could return and free the rest of the pack. Kip could have wondered how Vann felt returning here without Jace, but he didn’t have to. He sensed the tinge of sorrow inside Vann, where his dream of two brothers joining in battle hadn’t come to fruition. That sorrow was eclipsed by a stronger emotion, though—relief that Jace would never have to see Crossways, would never be put in danger there.

“I know we’re safe with them.”

Vann’s words startled Kip out of his musings.

“But it’s so difficult to shake off how we’ve always had to live,”
Vann continued.
“I know how to trust”
—he smiled—
“as do you. We trust my parents, my sister, and each other. But trusting strangers? All right, they’re good strangers and I’ve scented no animosity from them since we established who we are, but…”