Prickly Business

by Piper Vaughn

  Think, Dylan. What next?

  Next? He didn’t have a “next” other than finding his mate and ripping apart anyone who got in the way. But he couldn’t do it alone.

  Dylan picked up the phone and dialed without further thought.

  When the other line clicked, he didn’t even wait for his friend to say anything.

  “Lucas,” he whispered, “I need help.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  WHEN AVERY woke, it felt like someone had taken a chisel to his forehead. Disoriented, he propped himself up on his elbows and tried to process his surroundings. The area around him was dimly lit and smelled of unwashed bodies and motor oil.

  Avery blinked. Where the hell am I?

  For a few minutes he couldn’t recall anything. Why he hurt. Why he was dressed in his most expensive suit. How he’d gotten here… wherever “here” was.

  Bit by bit, the events of the day began to trickle back into his consciousness. He remembered making his deliveries, visiting Mr. Otis, dressing and going to that auction. Detective Melnyk. Leaving that lake house in a panicked rush, and then… nothing.

  Obviously something had happened between his walking out that front door and ending up in this dank little cell. He struggled to think, seeking the memories, but it was like a blank canvas. Just… empty space.

  Avery sat all the way up and groaned when the motion sent a crashing jolt of pain through his skull. He doubled over, heaving as nausea overwhelmed him, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up.

  When the queasiness eased, he straightened slowly and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. He looked around, taking everything in. The overhead lights flickered dully, and the stacked crates Avery could see beyond the bars of his… cage… cast heavy, ominous shadows.

  Oh fuck. Where had he been taken? Was he even in Oregon anymore? Was it still nighttime?

  No doubt Mr. Otis had called Dylan by now. He was a responsible wolf. He would’ve alerted Dylan the moment Avery missed his deadline. But how long had it been since then?

  Avery searched his pockets for his phone, but both it and his wallet were missing. He furrowed his forehead. Had they been taken by whoever grabbed him? No way of knowing. If they had, now they knew his name and where he lived. Not that Melnyk couldn’t have found that information anyway.

  Avery closed his eyes and groaned. God, what had he done? He might’ve put everyone he knew in danger by going to that auction.

  A whimper from somewhere nearby drew Avery’s attention. Feeling sluggish and weak, he dragged himself off what he now saw was a filthy, lumpy mattress and crawled toward the front of his cell. And that’s what it was. There were bars like in a prison on all sides. Avery sat in the last one in the row. The cell to his right appeared to be empty, but the one across the aisle…. Yeah, there. He could make out the gleam of auburn hair and the form of a woman cowering on the floor.

  “Hello?” Avery called softly. His voice came out as hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in weeks. “Are you okay?”

  The woman didn’t stir.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Her head jerked toward him, and she made a shushing motion, her expression stark with terror.

  Avery pressed himself against the bars and tried to get a good look at her. Something about her seemed familiar. He’d seen her recently… but where? “What’s your name?”

  She shook her head and turned away, ignoring him.

  And like that, Avery recognized her. Frat Boy’s girl. The pretty redhead he’d followed out of Howl and into that alley several weeks ago.

  Avery wanted to grill her some more. Wanted to confirm his suspicions that Frat Boy was also the Troy whom Lacey had been dating before she vanished. Wanted to ask if Frat Boy was the reason for the woman being trapped here. But she didn’t seem ready to talk, and she looked so afraid, he couldn’t bring himself to press the issue. Yet.

  For the moment he let it go and once again took stock of his location. He seemed to be in a warehouse of some type. If there were windows, they’d been blacked out. He had no sense of whether it was day or night. He could’ve been unconscious for one hour or for ten.

  Avery listened hard, straining to hear something beyond the breathing of the people in the other cells nearby. Occasionally, he thought he caught voices from another part of the warehouse, but they were too indistinct to make out words, and he couldn’t tell how far away they might be. Or how many.

  Minutes passed.

  After a long period of silence, Avery’s anxiety had ramped up to an unbearable level. Fear and uncertainty made for one awful combination. He couldn’t stand to be alone with the thoughts in his head. If he allowed himself to panic, he might shift from the stress. He didn’t want to risk that. Not with the girl awake and right there, and not before he had a better grasp of his surroundings and an idea of what might be waiting for him beyond these cells.

  He decided to try with her one more time. The other people weren’t close enough to speak to easily, not without risking being overheard.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “Do you know how long you’ve been here? Do you know who brought you?”

  She didn’t answer immediately or even acknowledge the question. Then, finally, right when he felt like he was going to snap from the tension, she spoke. “I… I don’t know how long. A day, maybe two.”

  Avery pushed closer to the bars. “What’s your name?” he asked again.

  The girl sat up and met his gaze through the dimness. “Veronica.”

  “Do you know who took you? Do you remember what happened?”

  She shook her head. “No, I… I didn’t recognize the guys. But… b-but….” Her voice wavered, and she scrubbed at her cheeks with one hand. “M-my boyfriend. He t-took me to meet them. He said they were his friends.”

  “Your boyfriend,” Avery repeated. “His name wouldn’t be Troy, would it? Beefy guy with dark hair and a tan? Hangs out at Howl?”

  Veronica’s eyes widened. “No, not Troy. Trey. H-how did you know?”

  A shudder ran through Avery at having his worst fears confirmed. Goose bumps broke out on his flesh, and he chafed at his arms through his jacket, chilled despite his layers of clothing. If Troy/Trey/whoever was the reason this girl was here, he was probably responsible for Lacey’s disappearance as well. But if that were true, where was she now? Being forced to work on the streets? Sold off to some high bidder at an auction like the one Avery had attended? Somewhere worse, like an unmarked grave in the woods?

  Avery couldn’t stress about it right then, even if worrying about Lacey was what had landed him in this situation in the first place. Before he could help her—or anyone—he had to escape and alert the authorities.

  “Did the same guys who brought you in bring me here?” Avery asked instead of answering Veronica’s question.

  She brushed her hair out of her face with a trembling hand. “One of them, yeah.”

  “Were they talking? Did you hear them say anything?”

  Veronica blanched and looked away from him. “They… I heard one say they should’ve k-killed you.” She swallowed hard enough Avery’s sensitive ears picked up the click in her throat from across the aisle. “The other guy, he… he said they couldn’t afford to waste such a pretty face. Said you’d probably bring in a lot of money, even if you are kind of old for their normal customers.”

  Under any other circumstances, Avery would’ve been offended. How the hell was he old at twenty-three? This girl couldn’t be much younger. Maybe twenty-one, unless she was using a fake ID like Lacey had been. That seemed possible.

  Then again, these people apparently catered to men who wanted children or teenagers. Of course Avery would be “old” by comparison. The thought disgusted him.

  “Do you know who they are?” Veronica asked.

  Avery shook his head. He didn’t want to mention the detective yet. He didn’t get the sense Veronica was lying to try to get information out of him, but he didn’t dare take the risk. She could b
e working with whoever had abducted him. They might’ve promised to let her go if she found out how much he knew. Or maybe it was all in his head. Still, it couldn’t hurt to be careful. He should’ve used a lot more caution to begin with.

  Dylan. God, he must be going crazy.

  In Dylan’s place, Avery would be out of his mind with worry. Dylan was protective to a fault. He’d be furious—both at Avery for keeping secrets and at himself for not somehow guessing what Avery had planned. To Dylan’s thinking, it was his duty, his responsibility, to safeguard his mate. Not knowing where Avery was or what had happened might send him right off the deep end. And Avery would be entirely to blame.

  Dylan, I’m sorry.

  The thought occurred that maybe these people had Dylan too, and Avery’s stomach dropped to his feet. No, he couldn’t let himself even consider that. He’d lose any rationality he’d managed to cling to so far.

  They couldn’t know Dylan was involved. He’d gone to the precinct with Avery, sure, but he hadn’t been at the auction. They had no reason to suspect Dylan knew anything about it.

  Dylan was safe. He had to be. And Avery would get out of here and back to his mate as soon as he possibly could. All he needed was to make sure no one would notice him missing for a while.

  These bars might be able to contain his human form, but a hedgehog? A hedgie could slip right through.

  “JESUS CHRIST, D. Sit the fuck down. That shit’s not helping anything, except to drive me nuts.” Lucas pointed at the couch, Dylan assumed to halt his pacing. He sounded exasperated and Dylan wanted to care, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Not right now.

  “Fuck you, Luc.”

  Despite his words, Dylan plopped onto the sofa, his knee bouncing with pent up nervous energy. The loft was quiet at three in the morning. He’d never noticed that before. Anytime he and Avery were here at this time they were either sleeping or fucking. He’d never seen the loft from the early morning’s point of view. It was nice, mostly. Except for the part where it was completely fucking empty even with four grownass men occupying the space. It’s funny the things that pop into your head when you feel like you’ve lost everything. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to be here. Without Avery. But he couldn’t go home either. Everywhere he looked, he saw reminders of Avery. Here? At his house? It didn’t matter. Avery was a part of both places, a part of Dylan. Avery was his home, and he was missing. Nothing would be right—feel right—until Dylan had him back.

  His heart ached. He needed to be out there searching. Needed Avery.

  Dylan shot to his feet and was out of the living room and across the kitchen before a hand grabbed his elbow.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Sawyer growled, sounding fierce and angry. Dylan didn’t take it personally—knew it was because he thought of Avery as part of his pack, a brother. If Dylan could have felt anything at the moment, he was sure the thought would have warmed him.

  “Sitting here isn’t bringing him home,” Dylan bit out through gritted teeth.

  “And what exactly do you plan on doing?” Sawyer huffed. “Where are you going to start? Because if you have a go point, I’d love to hear it. It’s what we’ve been sitting around waiting on for two hours, D. So please, enlighten us.” Tension rocked the room and Dylan had missed it because he was absorbed in his own fears, his own loss. He hadn’t noticed his crew suffering their missing friend too. He turned to Sawyer who still had a death grip on his arm, his jaw clenching and his eyes a maelstrom of emotion. Lucas leaned against the desk, chewing his thumbnail while staring into space. Kirk curled into one corner of the sofa, his knees to his chest. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He sounded tired and dejected even to his own ears. “Let’s talk it through.” It was the last thing he wanted to do—think about why his mate was missing and that he could do nothing because he didn’t know anything.

  He shut down that train of thought. Avery was strong and stubborn. He had to trust that Avery would be okay until Dylan could get to him.

  Sitting back down on the sofa opposite Kirk, Dylan rubbed his hands over his head with a heavy, gut-wrenching sigh.

  “I don’t—” His voice was strangled by fear and anger and cold, wet tears. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I don’t know….” Where to begin. How to find him. Where to go from here. What to do without him. Dylan shut his eyes against the storm of frustration welling in his chest.

  “How about you start from the beginning?” Lucas piped up, sounding lost.

  Join the club.

  “How did it all start?” he asked, just as soft.

  “I think Avery said the guy’s name was Trey or Tony…. Troy. That’s it—the guy’s name was Troy.” Dylan nodded. “Avery thought it might be a fake name, but he didn’t know for sure.”

  “You know what he looks like?” Sawyer spoke up.

  “No clue.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen him from behind. I could tell you what his back looked like, maybe his body type. He had dark hair, but that could have changed.” He shrugged. “That’s about it.”

  “Okay, so that’s a no on trying to find Troy for now,” Lucas ticked off. “What else?”

  “What about the phone?” Kirk asked, deep in thought. “Do you know where it is?”

  Dylan shook his head. “I looked when I got here, but it’s not here. Avery probably has it with him. He has a habit of leaving it in his car or in his jacket pocket.”

  The little things—Avery’s fucking forgetfulness that could drive Dylan batty on a normal day—were what Dylan longed for right now. Their normal. His and Avery’s.

  He told them about the meeting with the alpha and what a clusterfuck that had been.

  “Do you think we should call him?” Lucas chimed in.

  “Who?” It was like they were speaking two different languages. Hadn’t Lucas been paying attention? Dylan had been dialing Avery for two hours with no luck.

  “The alpha,” he said like that was the most logical of answers.

  “I’m not getting him involved. Not until we need to. I don’t know that we’ll even need his help or want it.” Dylan sneered. “You didn’t see how he brushed Avery off like he was a silly kid.” He couldn’t even chalk the alpha’s indifference up to wanting to protect Avery. Odell hadn’t listened to Avery because he hadn’t wanted to. He’d patronized and deflected Avery’s every discovery.

  No, not until he had Avery well within his sights would he inform the alpha of what was going on. And that his mate had been right to begin with.

  “Okay.” Lucas sounded resigned but at least he’d turned around and was facing Dylan. “What happened next?”

  Dylan shrugged. “We went to the police.” Something tickled at the periphery of his memory, but he couldn’t quite grasp hold of it.

  “How’d that go?” This from Sawyer who hovered by the kitchen counter like he’d be sure to cut off any escape attempts from now on.

  “Not very good. The detectives were di—” Recognition slammed into Dylan, leaving him gasping for air. All of a sudden the pieces fit. That tickle turned into a full-fledged memory. Dylan hadn’t taken a lot away from their meeting with the asshole detectives outside of his disappointment and frustrations with the system. But he remembered something about both the blond and the grouchy older guy—the smell of wet socks and minty chewing tobacco.

  “They were there,” Dylan spoke, barely a whisper.

  “Who was where?” The look on Kirk’s face was that of utter confusion.

  Dylan shook his head. Each word, every glance and sneer between the two men in that room flitted through his memory. He tried to figure out how he’d missed it. How was it possible that two men, who were sworn to protect and serve, could be involved in something so atrocious and vile? How did something like that happen? And how did Dylan not pick up on it, not scent their malice? All of his failures piled up, one after another until Dylan felt the weight of each disappointment, each mistake, each wrong turn that led to this p
oint.

  “Son of a bitch,” he swore under his breath.

  “What?” Lucas broke into his thoughts. “What are you mumbling about, D?”

  “Those asshole detectives,” he growled. “They were there. At the lake house. At least one of them was.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you saying the detectives were working the party undercover?”

  Dylan let out a bitter laugh. “Not likely. Those two are crooked. I’d bet the Hardcore on it. I knew it when we met them. I just didn’t think it was… this.” Why would he? They’d done a good job of focusing that discussion on what Avery knew and how he’d come about it, instead of talking about the missing girls.

  Another thought flashed in his head. He inhaled a sharp stinging breath. If the detectives had seen Avery at the party, there was no way they would have let him get out of there.

  “It’s them.” Dylan knew it in his bones, with every breath in his body. “The cops. They have Avery.”

  Panic swept through him. Not his own, but Avery’s. It was bittersweet—knowing his mate was alive yet knowing he was afraid, and Dylan could do nothing about it. His heart raced and tears stung his eyes. Suddenly, his reluctance to complete their mating bond ate at him. Why had he put it off? He knew Avery wanted it. Hell, Dylan wanted it too. He rubbed his fist over his chest to stem the ache growing there. It didn’t help.

  As quickly as Avery’s panic flooded him, it was gone, replaced with a resolute calm, like Avery had made a decision. Not knowing that decision scared Dylan even more.

  “What is it?” Kirk asked from beside him.

  Dylan shook his head. It was private, the bond between mates. Intimate. And the fact that he knew Avery was alive and that he was scared and that he…. Dylan couldn’t think about it. Didn’t want to think about anything other than getting Avery back.

  “So the detectives,” Sawyer looked up, hope shining in his eyes. “That’s where we look first?”

  It’s the only thing that made sense.

  “Yes,” Lucas answered before Dylan could open his mouth. “Sawyer, I’m gonna need you to keep an eye on the cops.” He snapped his fingers at Dylan, eyebrows arched in question.