Whole-Hearted: A Malsum Pass Novel

by Kimberly Forrest

  Connie was exhausted the next day when she was escorted out to the yard and she knew she looked like crap with her puffy eyes and dark circles but for once, she didn’t care. She was on a mission. Today she was going to listen and observe. There had to be a chink in the armor. She just needed to find it.

  She looked around. The Kitsune was doing her stretches once again under the tree, but the jaguar, Maria was absent. Making her way to the fountain, Connie sat on the edge, closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply. They were definitely no longer in the city. Even with her now human nose, she could smell trees, a hint of wood smoke in the air as well as decaying leaves, a scent she associated with autumn but also with home. They were near woods.

  “Eat the bread, flush the rest.”

  Connie startled at the whispered words and saw that the Kitsune had come up beside her. The small Asian beauty put a foot up on the fountain and continued her stretches.

  “What?”

  “Eat just the bread. It’s not drugged.” The other woman said in a small whisper, trying to move her lips as little as possible. “Flush the rest so they don’t realize.” With those words uttered, the woman planted both feet on the ground and touched her toes. “And stay away from the jaguar, she’s one of them.” She finished and began to jog around the yard.

  Connie sat there for a moment dumbstruck. Maria was a fur trader? But she had been dressed like Connie, a captive. Surely the Kitsune was mistaken. A sick feeling welled in the pit of her stomach. But wasn’t it too much of a coincidence that after she had told Maria about the hairpins, her room had been searched? Anger had Connie clenching her teeth. That little bitch.

  Just then, Connie spotted Maria with a guard escorting her into the yard. Yes, she looked like a captive, but Connie certainly wasn’t about to trust the female again. Maybe she was a spy for the traders, gaining the other prisoners’ trust and then using it against them. Getting up from her seat on the fountain, Connie jogged to catch up with the Kitsune.

  As soon as she was at a pace with the fox, she asked, keeping her voice low. “How do you know she’s not to be trusted?”

  The Kitsune didn’t look at her, her stride never faltered. “Foxes have good ears and I listen. The story she told you was different than what she told me or what she told the last batch of girls that was here.”

  Connie growled, though without her wolf it sounded rather weak and pathetic. “Is she even a shifter? I just don’t understand how a shifter could be helping them.” she asked as she watched the woman in question, seat herself on the fountain Connie had abandoned and lift her face to the sun.

  “Yes, that at least is truth. If I were to guess, she is either one of the born or a tribute.” The Kitsune whispered, her pace slowing slightly. “Let’s walk.”

  Connie happily settled into a walk, panting slightly from the exertion. “Born? Tribute? I don’t know what that means.” She whispered, once they were out of earshot of the jaguar.

  The Kitsune began to pace rather than walk around the perimeter, shaking out her arms and rolling her head as she went. Grasping an arm, she brought it across her body and Connie did the same. “The born are those that are born in captivity like the big boss man here and his son. They have known no other life but the fur traders. Tributes are given to fur traders when they are small children. Usually a village will have a pact with the traders. They willingly give them a child every five or ten years in exchange for not destroying their village.”

  Connie looked aghast as they both settled on the ground and began to stretch. “That’s horrible!” She whisper-hissed.

  The Kitsune shrugged. “My grandparents would agree. It was why they came to America. So they would never have to face the possibility of giving up one of their children. Isn’t it ironic that I should end up here despite their best efforts?”

  Connie’s mouth dropped open. “Someone gave you to them?”

  The Kitsune smiled, the first one Connie had seen from the small woman. “No, I was taken. But still ironic.”

  Connie stuck out her hand. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Connie.”

  The Kitsune smiled again and clasped Connie’s hand. “Rin.”

  Connie was quiet as she continued to stretch in the shade of the tree. She wanted to tell the other woman that she was going to get them out of here, but she held her tongue. The last time she had done that, she’d been burned. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. If she did manage to get out, she would free the Kitsune, but she wouldn’t be divulging any plans.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Maria asked as she flopped down into the shade next to them.

  Connie was tempted to jump on the female and claw her eyes out but she figured she had done an adequate job disguising her dislike when the jaguar didn’t even bat an eye. Rin shrugged. “I am preparing. She is keeping me company.”

  “You look tired.” Maria said turning to Connie, the sympathy on her face almost believable. “You need to sleep at night to keep up your strength. Right, Rin?”

  Rin eyed Maria for a moment and then leaned back on her elbows to take a rest. “I am surprised any of us get any sleep here, jaguar. If you manage it, please share your secret.”

  Maria laughed a bit nervously. “I mean, yeah, I have a hard time sleeping too, you know, the fear and all, but we need our rest.”

  Rin sat back up and then pushed to her feet. “You rest. I’ll prepare. I have no intention of dying by the hands of traitorous scum.”

  With that said, Rin set off at a job again and Connie pushed to her feet to join her, leaving Maria behind.

  Chapter Twenty

  “He’s on the move.”

  Finally! Those words were music to Jacob’s ears. As soon as they had obtained an address on Graydon Brooks, they’d begun to shadow the male; investigating his past and observing his movements. He was a male who liked to shop, liked to dine in extremely fancy restaurants, and had a thing for high-priced escorts. Last night the male had taken three of them to his penthouse apartment. Jacob wondered if he was going to share one or two of those women with his constant companion, and obvious bodyguard, a big, rough looking bear shifter.

  As far as Jacob could tell, Graydon Brooks didn’t have a job. All that money he was spending left and right seemed to be compliments of daddy: one Benedict Brooks. Unlike his son, the elder Brooks worked for his money and seemed to have a knack for making more. The man had been featured in several magazine and news articles, a financier who was said to have the Midas touch.

  “He’s leaving the city.” Dev said, his eyes fixed on the screen of his tablet as he tracked the signal they had planted on Graydon Brooks’ shiny red Bugatti. “This could be it, guys. Let’s move out. Bring the gear.”

  Jacob jumped into action, eager to be on the move, to do something. He hefted one of the large pre-packed, black duffel bags over his shoulder and headed out to the van they had rented. As soon as everyone was in, Alek spoke. “For now, this mission is reconnaissance only. We watch. We listen. Should Connie or any other women be on the premises we do not go in halfcocked. Understood?” Alek’s eyes moved over each person in the van lingering longest on Jacob and then David Tully. “We do this smart so no one gets hurt. If you have a problem with that, you don’t come. Period.”

  Just over two hours later, they pulled the van off the road just outside Phoenicia, New York. The area was wooded, providing plenty of cover, but also allowed plenty of privacy for the mansion about a quarter mile back where Graydon Brooks had stopped and stayed.

  Finding a vantage point up high on a hill, the team unpacked the binoculars and settled in. They would watch and wait. If Connie was inside, they would plan the best way to extricate her from the situation.

  A large stone wall surrounding the back of the property made it difficult to get a visual, but Jacob could feel it in his gut. Connie was here. It took phenomenal effort for him to hold his position and not rush the property. As if sensing Jacob’s inner wolf pushing ha
rd against flesh, Sam laid down on his belly beside him. The man stared for several moments before his low voice came out in a rumble. “Being smart will keep your female safe. Remember that.”

  Jacob had to grit his teeth, but he leashed his wolf. Soon. She would be back with him soon. She would be whole, and hearty, and spitting mad that someone had dared to abduct her, while he would happily listen to her vent her anger and then hold her when she was spent. Soon.

  They had been there a good three hours, watching, occasionally sniffing the air, alert for the presence of shifters when Dev held up his hand in warning. They watched as Benedict Brooks left the mansion, the bear shifter that had ridden in with the son, at his side.

  The decision was made in quick order: Jacob, Alek, Daisy, and Dev would stay put and continue to watch this house while Tarvahl, David, and Sam would take the van and follow these two to see if they might lead them to another location. Jacob sent up a little prayer that one of the two teams would meet with success.

  After a day and a half of eating just the bread provided with each meal, Connie was so grateful to Rin she could have kissed the Kitsune. Her wolf was coming back; she could feel it. She wasn’t yet able to fully shift, but her sense of smell had improved and just this afternoon, she had been able to shift her eyes. Such a relief.

  She was in the middle of flushing the remainder of her dinner down the toilet when she heard her cell door open. Fear uncoiling at the thought of being caught and dragged in front of the alpha again, Connie hid the now empty plate behind her back. It was probably a futile attempt, but it was all her brain could come up with on short notice. Leaving the bathroom, she expected to see the guard that would remove her dinner tray and was instead faced with Graydon Brooks, lounging casually against the door as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Smug bastard.

  Looking at her, the male frowned, clicking his tongue in mock sympathy. “Look at what they’ve done to you, little wolf.” He moved forward, extending his hand as if he was going to touch her and Connie stepped back to avoid his fingers. “Dark circles, your hair a mess,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t belong here.”

  Connie took another step back as Graydon advanced, but the room was small and her back all too quickly met the wall. There was no place left to go, and she was suddenly caged as his hands braced against the wall on either side of her head. She growled a warning, but with her wolf still not fully restored, the noise that came out of her throat only amused the male.

  Graydon’s eyes moved down her form, heating, the irises turning to amber, and his voice lowering with a growl of his own. “Come with me to my room, little wolf. Let me take care of you. I would spoil you.” His breath fanned over her face as he rubbed his cheek against hers and Connie tried not to flinch though she couldn’t control the trembles that had begun to rack her body. She could taste her fear, knew that he’d be able to smell it on her. He was an adult male wolf, an alpha like his father, and should he attack, she wouldn’t stand a chance, not with her own wolf still partially suppressed.

  “I would love you so thoroughly, little wolf. Such pleasure I could give you. Let me love you.” He inhaled deeply and another growl left his throat. “You smell so good.” He said, pushing his nose against her neck, his hand sliding down her side to grip her hip and pull her against him. She could feel his arousal and Connie’s mind spun.

  She had to swallow hard, and her voice shook as she said, “Your father said I was not to be harmed.”

  She felt a hot, wet slide against her neck and she shrugged her shoulder against it. He’d licked her, tasting her, tasting her fear, and the growl that followed told her that he was enjoying it. He pulled his head back and smiled at her, a finger tracing down her cheek. “I would never harm you, little wolf. You are so beautiful, exquisite. I wouldn’t mar this perfect face. I would treasure you.”

  “Your father said I was to be given to the fur traders. That I was valuable.” Connie reminded him, her voice breaking.

  “Father isn’t here.” He said with a satisfied smile, his eyes once again moving down her body before he frowned. “These clothes do not suit you. I would dress you in silks.”

  Connie started to panic. If the elder Brooks wasn’t here, then there was no one to stop Graydon if he decided to rape her. The guards surely wouldn’t dare to question the boss’ son. Think, Connie. Think! Her eyes darted around the room. There was nothing here she could use as a weapon. Nothing except herself. How many times had her mother told her that her body could be used to get anything she wanted from a male? God, she had hated that advice. It was archaic and degrading, but right now, it may just save her.

  Connie forced herself to calm and took a deep breath. Licking her lips she tentatively touched Graydon’s arm, running her fingers over his suit coat and feeling his biceps flex in response. He let out another growl of approval and then he was kissing her, pushing his tongue inside her mouth and Connie tried not to cry. She could do this. If she was able to get out of this room, she may be able to escape. She needed to hold onto that thought, to be brave; she needed to do whatever it took to survive.

  Breaking away from his mouth, Connie used her most practiced smile, the one she had perfected in front of a mirror years ago in hopes of luring Conner Pierce. “Not here,” she whispered in her breathiest voice. “I want a real bed, with sheets, I want luxury against my skin.” Her fingers once again skated over his arm and Graydon Brooks shivered. His smile growing in anticipation as he picked her up in his arms. A few strides to the door, three sharp raps, and the guard outside was setting them free.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Graydon’s room was a revelation. It was a large space complete with a sitting area and a fireplace; a decadent bower more suited to a sultan than a typical shifter. The male actually had a canopy bed swathed in heavy green velvet while several fat, gold tasseled pillows took up half the king sized mattress. She was expecting him to just toss her on the bed, but he surprised her by setting her down near a writing desk and motioning toward several decanters of liquor. “Drink?”

  Connie shook her head. Her stomach was rolling with dread and even though alcohol might calm her, she doubted she’d be able to keep it down. The last thing she wanted was to be throwing up all over the place. She needed to stay sharp, look for something that could be used as a weapon. She could do this, she had to do this. This may be her only opportunity to escape.

  While Graydon was pouring himself a drink, she scanned the desk hoping for a nice sharp letter opener, but the surface was relatively clean: a blotter, a picture frame on the corner, not even a pen as far as she could see. She turned her attention to the rest of the room. Over by the bed she spotted a statue. It was an ugly thing in Connie’s opinion. It looked like it might be the female form in a reclining position, the breasts thrust upward, but without a head. From this distance it looked heavy, possibly bronze, and about the right size to get her hand around and do some damage. She just hoped that once she got over there, she wouldn’t discover it was lightweight resin just made to look like bronze. Now she just needed to get him over there with her.

  She wasn’t much of an actress. That had been proven time and time again in the Malsum Pass annual Christmas pageant where she was constantly cast in a non-speaking part. Even if whatever play they were doing needed more women, they would rather have one of the juvenile males in a dress than Connie delivering lines on stage. But tonight, she would have to give a performance worthy of a Tony, her very life depended on it. With that in mind, Connie took a deep breath to steady her nerves and struck a seductive pose.

  She felt ridiculous but the male didn’t seem to think so. Graydon was loosening his tie, his eyes roving over her body as he licked his lips. It was then that Connie saw a certain gleam in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat in fear. She wanted to run. Every instinct was screaming that she needed to run when Graydon Brooks growled “Sexy, but I want you to fight me, little wolf.”

  She blinked, once and
then again, sure that she must not have heard him correctly. She had had every intention of fighting him once she got him over near the bed and that statue, but this was unexpected.

  Another low growl broke free and he raised his hands, palm up and motioned toward his body with a bend of his fingers. “Come at me, little wolf, fight me; try to hurt me. I need you to try to hurt me.”

  Connie’s fear shot up to epic levels as she took a step toward the bed. Seduction she could fake, but this? Unlike him, she still couldn’t shift. He could very well kill her. Images of how quickly his father had taken down that guard – a strong, trained, human male – filled her head. Panic set in and instinct took over as she leapt for the bed and the statue that would be her weapon. She heard the snarl, felt teeth clamp sharply into her shoulder as broad hands snatched her around the waist and yanked her back.

  Her fingers scrabbled for purchase amidst the bed clothes as her jaw clenched against the pain. She could smell her own blood, scent his arousal growing as he released his teeth from her flesh. He flipped her over easy on the bed and pinned her arms beneath their combined weight. His eyes amber bright with excitement, and Connie could see a smear of her blood on his lip. “That’s right, little wolf; fight me. Struggle. I love it.”

  The male was actually smiling, enjoying her fear, and growing more aroused as he stared at the bright red blooming on her white T-shirt from where he had bitten her. Connie was truly frightened now. She could taste the bitterness on her tongue, her skin prickling, while her stomach twisted in knots. She could see her death, here, on this monstrosity of a bed, torn up by this male, and everything inside of her revolted.

  She didn’t know where the strength came from, but something feral let loose inside her brain. While Graydon was unbuckling his belt, she tugged an arm free, her nails flying to the male’s eyes and digging deep furrows into his flesh. When he let out a bellow of rage, she gave a mighty heave, upsetting his balance and sent him tumbling to the floor. Before he could right himself, she had the heavy weight of the statue in her hand, and slammed it with all of her might against the side of his head. With an expulsion of air, Graydon Brooks collapsed once again to the floor.