Wolf’s Heart (7 page)

“This is it! I’ll take it! Lime green, it’s perfect!”

“What? Hell no, that thing is ugly. And what if it doesn’t run? You can’t tell me you’re buying a car based on the color?”

“Yep, Peach, I am. You can make sure it runs while I go sign on the dotted line.” Giggling, she walked to the building, shaking her ass a bit as she went and looked over her shoulder. “We can christen it later.”

Her face was all he could envision. That goofy nerdy look she loved to pull off in order to hide the fact that she was so smart always made him laugh. She loved to stick out in a crowd and usually had some wild color streaked through her long dark hair. Of course, his favorite would always be the buttercup yellow. Saying she marched to a different beat was an understatement. Ryden had never encountered a more unique individual, nor enjoyed his time with anyone more. Had his life been different, he would have married her and had planned to just that as soon as he got out of the Army. That was until he was attacked.

JT never understood what prompted one of his own unit members to attack a human in the first place. Wolfpack Delta was a unit in the elite Delta Force comprised solely of werewolves. Shitty timing placed Ryden’s unit in the same vicinity as the werewolves he had no idea even existed, much less held place in the US Military. But that night found Ryden bleeding under the large jaws of the predator, his fangs dripping red as Ryden tried to fend off the attack. And if it hadn’t been for JT, Ryden would surely have died that night.

Looking back, Ryden couldn’t remember all the details. They had become foggy in his fevered mind and pain filled body. But when the smoke cleared, there stood Lt. Howard...well, it looked a bit like him, anyway. Ryden wasn’t sure for a while what he saw until it was all explained to him later. All he knew was the commanding officer he’d met only a few times before, stood over the body of an extremely large animal, something Ryden had never thought to see in his life. As the haze took over, Ryden realized he was bleeding from wounds in his side, wounds that by normal standards would have been mortal.

JT called him back in record time, giving him the location of Carlee’s car. It had been spotted at a bus station not far away. Ryden was thankful JT still had connections and could call in a favor or two.

Now out on the open road, Ryden was glad she’d bought that ugly car. He pushed the speed limit, trying desperately to get to Carlee, without attracting unwanted attention in the process.

It took longer than he expected, but Ryden finally pulled in at the bus station and there sat Carlee’s lime green Charger, right where JT had said it would be. No one could miss it. Shaking his head, he looked through the windows but didn’t see anything, not even her purse or a bag. Nothing would have made her abandon her car in such a place unless she was in trouble, and Ryden knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t keep her car safe. He made a quick phone call to Thomas who owned the storage facility and asked him to come pick it up and take it to Ryden’s unit for safe keeping.

Inside the bus station, he went around asking people if they’d seen Carlee. He had an old photo of her on his cell and showed it around. It took him a half hour before he finally found the clerk who’d sold Carlee the bus ticket. The destination was south to Savannah, Georgia.

“Savannah? Why Savannah, Buttercup? Where are you running to?” Ryden said to himself.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a map, detailing the various stops the bus would make on the way south. With any luck, he’d find her before she got to Savannah since she was only three hours ahead of Ryden and the Mustang would be faster. The bus wouldn’t make good time at all. So, pulling up the GPS on his phone, Ryden left Maryland, praying all the way that she was all right. In the meantime, he called JT back to run a check on her credit cards to see if any of them had been used.

An hour into the trip, JT called back with a hit. Carlee’s ID had been run at a hotel in Virginia Beach, but there was no record that a credit card was used. Something was unquestionably wrong here. She was running. Question was, who was she running from and was Ryden ahead of that person or behind them? With that thought in mind, he had to find her, and fast.

It was an exhausted sleep that overtook Carlee, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. Every movement felt as if her stomach was being ripped open. It would not have been a surprise at any moment to have some alien creature reach out of her chest and put her out of her misery.

Clutching the pillow against her stomach, she tried to hold herself together. She felt the wetness against her skin, the bandage obviously soaked through, she doubted at this point that she was bleeding, but infection was definitely a possibility. She wasn’t a complete idiot. She knew she needed help but where do you get help when you don’t know whom to trust and you have no one to turn to?

She looked down to the floor at her bag; her phone was in there but turned off. She worked the crime lab. She at least had enough sense to realize that the GPS could get her located. When the one who attempted to kill you worked for the Bureau, you had to think of the resources they had at their disposal.

Rolling over in the bed, she thought,
Who am I kidding? If did haul my ass out of this bed and get the phone, who would I call anyway? My parents? Would I call G? Oh yeah, the killer ex-boyfriend, I hope he is holding his breath waiting for that call. Friends? Ryden?

Wincing, she hugged the pillow tighter again, going through the list in her head. Her life was her work. Her friends were work. There was no one to call. She wouldn’t use Sarah again. Pulling her into this mess wasn’t an option.

As silent tears fell, one name did come to mind, Ryden Coulter. How strange was it that she would think of him? It had been years since she had seen him last. He was probably someplace overseas doing his own impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger in
The Terminator
.

 The thoughts of Ryden were not a welcome distraction. At one time, Ryden was her best friend, her lover, the only one who made her feel wanted. They had started as friends with benefits and, oh, holy hell, what benefits they were. One intoxicated night of white hot monkey sex on his way out of town followed by a couple of drive-bys turned into something she never thought she would find, acceptance for all her quirky ways. She’d been naive enough to think she’d found love. The memories were bittersweet. While she would never forget what they shared, she also wouldn’t forget the call telling her it was over, that he was never coming back. In the hours and days that followed that call, she felt not just as if her heart was broken, she felt as though she’d lost part of her soul. He probably didn’t even remember her. And exactly what would she to say if she called?

Oh, hey, Peaches, it’s Carlee. Can you stop trying to make the world a better place and come pick me up? I had this boyfriend who just tried to kill me and I could use a lift.

No, she wouldn’t be calling Ryden. She hated to think it, but she had to consider that he could be involved. G could have been threatening Ryden in order to cover up his involvement just in case she ran to him. The Bureau knows everyone, everything. At least Ryden’s name brought his face to mind and gave her a pretty picture to think about for a little while, and memories of happier times, even if the ending was one that sucked rotten eggs. Of course, there were always strangers. Relying on strangers was something she could consider. But, then again, not seeing the other face in the hospital room made that dicey. Call the desk clerk? She could hear the conversation.

Would you mind helping me? I seem to be bleeding to death in one of your rooms. 

The clerk’s first call would be to the police and that she didn’t need. All she had was herself as she lay in bed, trying to shut off her brain. She didn’t like pain. Wimpy? Sissy? Hell freakin’ yes. She didn’t even donate blood except for Kyle. She’d had enough needles to last a lifetime. She wanted something to numb her, to just knock her out and make it all go away. Too quickly she realized that sometimes you genuinely did have to be careful what you wished for.

She was lying in bed, afraid to move after finding a semi comfy spot. Inhaling, she caught the scent of G’s Bvlgari cologne. It was like his trademark, and some days he seemed to bathe in it.

Inhaling again, he leaned down and kissed her. Pulling her up, her legs wrapped around his waist and as he broke the kiss. Looking into G’s eyes, there was a glint just before he laid her down on the ground and began stomping her.

Sitting up in the bed, Carlee tried to scream, but nothing would come out. She was too busy just trying to breathe and praying she didn’t blow chunks. Rocking back and forth and clutching the pillow, her eyes darted around the room for G. Letting out a deep sigh of relief she found no one standing there.

It was just a dream, Carlee, just a dream. He isn’t here, he couldn’t get here that fast. Or could he?

At first all she could hear was the beating of her own heart pounding in her head, but as it slowed she felt her resolve chip away with each beat.

“This can’t be happening.” There were voices in the hall, voices speaking Greek, two sets of footsteps. 

Even though G had been born in the US, he had told her how his parents had insisted he use their native tongue, learning only a little English until it was time to go to school. She briefly remembered how she thought listening to him speak to her in Greek was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. Hearing it now was terrifying.
Why was he coming back? Had his orders changed? Was he planning on finishing her off this time?
She knew she was most likely going to die but refused to make it easy. A few moments ago, she was unable to move due to the pain. Fear and adrenalin can do extraordinary things. Rolling off the side of the bed to the floor, she grabbed her bag and the pillow. She watched as the door knob slowly turned. She only had one chance and that was out the back.

Fighting tears, exhaustion, hysteria and probably a few medical conditions she didn’t want to think about, she quietly and quickly opened the sliding door to the balcony. Stepping outside into the cold night air, she stood off to the side. She could hear the knocks on the door inside.

“Ms. O’Shannon, complimentary room service for your first night’s stay.”

She didn’t bother to answer that; she didn’t want what they were delivering. She struggled to keep a grip on reality. Clearing her throat, she called back through the room.

“Just a sec, I’m naked with a pizza, I mean naked eating a pizza.”

It wasn’t perfect, but was all she could think of at the time. Quietly sliding the door closed, she looked down and was nearly brought to tears. She was two floors up and with nothing but asphalt below and a couple of bushes that definitely would not break her fall.

Crying seemed to be her thing the last twenty-four hours. There was no way she could jump, it was too far. Breaking legs and busting open her incision would just make her an easier target. Climbing? No way with this railroad line of staples in her abdomen. Leaning back against the wall and stepping over the side of the railing, she looked to the next balcony. There was a decision to make. She could stand there and die, or she could try to take the large step to the next balcony. If she fell, it was what it was supposed to be. 

Looking out across the parking lot, she watched as bright headlights illuminated the night. She held on tight to the rail as she watched the car barreling into the parking lot. This was so not how she imagined going out. Her idea of going out in a blaze of glory would have been an aneurysm during hot monkey sex, definitely not while crying on a balcony.

Ryden pulled up at the hotel where Carlee had checked in and hoped she was still there. It was getting late and the sun had set. As he pulled into the parking lot, he looked around, keeping a watchful eye out for trouble. This wasn’t the worst hotel he’d seen; there had to have been better options, but he suspected she was in no shape to be choosy, and that set his nerves on edge. It could use fresh paint and from what he could see, the pool was more of a has been than not. A few run down houses were across the street complete with old sofas for front porch furniture and empty beer and soft drink cans scattered around yards that had long since seen better days. He expected the worst and hoped for the best as he pulled his Beretta out from under the seat. Ejecting the clip, he made sure it had a full fifteen rounds, and he made sure to pocket an extra clip. He slipped the gun into the back of his jeans and pulled the tail of his shirt down to cover it, before he walked into the hotel lobby.

The inside of the place didn’t look any better than the outside and smelled like stale cigarettes. The guy behind the desk sat puffing away with a full ashtray sitting beside him. He barely gave the newcomer a passing glance as he yelled obscenities at the TV while two teams went at it on the basketball court.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone.”

The very bored clerk looked over his shoulder and gave Ryden an offhand nod, then turned back to his game. “Yeah, who’s that?” He took another drag from his cigarette and flicked the ashes, most of them landing everywhere but the ashtray.

“Her name’s Carlee O’Shannon, and if you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry. She checked in here earlier today.” Ryden stood waiting for some help from the guy, who was obviously more interested in the game he was watching than actually offering any customer service. Taking another drag from his smoke, the guy turned around with a disgusted look on his face, his yellowed teeth showing under the blinking fluorescent lights.

“What is it with this chick? I just had someone else ask about her not ten minutes ago. If she’s using this place to pick up clients, I’m calling the cops!”

Ryden’s stomach did a flip flop. “What room is she in?” The urgency in his voice made the clerk look up again. He must have seen murder in Ryden’s eyes because he jumped up and took a step back. When his sidearm came out, the other man began to stammer and ended up against the wall. “She’s in two-fourteen, s-second floor.”