On the Hunt

by Alexandra Ivy

  Her lips parted to agree with his plan of action only to come out as a gasp when his hands tugged her legs apart so he could find the center of her pleasure, his tongue penetrating her with a skill that made her forget how to speak.

  Which was just fine by her.

  There was nothing wrong with a little nonverbal communication....

  Chapter Seven

  The sun was painting a glorious canvas of pale rose, violet, and amber across the morning sky when Mika at last received the text from Wolfe that he was waiting at the edge of the road.

  Not that he was eager to leave Bailey, he acknowledged, reluctantly untangling himself from her warm body so he could pull on his clothes.

  It’d been a night that would be seared into his mind forever.

  Not just because of the sex.

  Although that would have a starring role in his memories.

  Hell, his body was still quivering from the raw, earth-shattering pleasure they’d shared.

  But more important had been the sheer intimacy of their lovemaking.

  Ten years ago they’d had plenty of passion, but both of them had been too young and caught up in their own insecurities and selfish needs to be able to truly share their hearts.

  It’d taken the opportunity to understand how barren life was without each other to appreciate what they’d nearly lost.

  Not that they’d discussed their future. He grimaced as he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead, careful not to wake her, before he silently left the cottage.

  No. There was no way in hell he was going to press Bailey to commit to returning to Valhalla with him.

  Did that make him a coward?

  Maybe. But he didn’t give a shit.

  Nothing mattered beyond rebuilding the relationship that he’d once feared shattered beyond repair.

  They had plenty of time to decide what happened next.

  First he had to finish his current job.

  Traveling through the barrier, he forced his way through the thick undergrowth that surrounded Bailey’s cottage.

  Two steps from the narrow road, Wolfe abruptly stepped from the shadows, his black hair tied at his nape and his lean body covered by a pair of black jeans, black T-shirt, and black shit-kickers.

  Nothing complicated about the Tagos.

  He looked like a badass because he was a badass.

  End of story.

  “About time you got here,” Mika muttered.

  “Hmm. You’re looking . . .” A smile curved Wolfe’s lips as his dark gaze studied Mika’s face. “Well satisfied. It wouldn’t have anything to do with a pretty young healer, would it?”

  Mika stiffened, struck by a sudden suspicion. “Did you know Bailey was here?”

  Wolfe shrugged, the cresting sunlight shimmering against the white streak at the front of his hair.

  “There are few things I don’t know.”

  Well, shit.

  It was rare for Mika to be played.

  No. Not rare.

  Never.

  But there was no mistaking the smug expression that settled on Wolfe’s lean face.

  The bastard had known exactly what was waiting for Mika when he came to Louisiana.

  “And that’s why you chose to send me to track Jacob,” he growled.

  “I was tired of watching you mope around because your pride wouldn’t allow you to go after your woman.”

  Mika scowled. “I don’t mope.”

  “You’re right. You brood.” Wolfe gave a dramatic shudder. “Even worse.”

  Mika rolled his eyes. “Nice.”

  “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  Mika was honest enough to admit that he owed his friend more than a thank-you. Being able to have a second chance with Bailey was priceless.

  Not that he was about to admit it to Wolfe.

  The leader of the Sentinels was arrogant enough, thank you very much.

  “You make an ugly-ass Cupid,” he instead muttered.

  Wolfe slapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending him stumbling into the nearby bog.

  “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

  “Did you discover anything about the healer who was found dead?” Mika abruptly changed the subject.

  He wasn’t ready to discuss Bailey or their reunion.

  It was all too new. Too fragile.

  Taking the hint, Wolfe folded his arms over his chest, revealing the gun that was holstered at his side.

  There was no doubt another gun was tucked in the back of his waistband and one strapped to his ankle, as well as a knife or two stashed in easy-to-reach locations.

  “We think he’d been kept captive.”

  “By who?”

  “Impossible to say.”

  Mika frowned. In the past he’d heard of psychics and clairvoyants being kidnapped. People always believed that knowing the future could somehow bring them wealth or happiness. And even witches could be forced to perform spells.

  But a healer?

  “It would have to be high-bloods,” he said. “A healer would be worthless to a human.”

  Frustration tightened Wolfe’s expression. The Tagos liked mysteries about as much as Mika.

  “None of this makes sense.”

  Mika gave a shake of his head. They weren’t going to figure anything out by standing there.

  “This way.”

  In silence he led Wolfe through the swamp. Twice they had to halt, once for a hunter who was on the trail of a rabbit, and once for two fishermen who were headed for a nearby dock. None of them were aware of the two lethal warriors who were standing a few feet away.

  At last they reached the banks of the channel, careful to remain hidden in the thick line of cypresses as they studied the small island.

  Minutes passed. There was no sound. No movement. And still they waited.

  It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that Wolfe stepped out of the trees, making himself a deliberate target for any sniper.

  “I think it’s empty,” he said when he wasn’t shot.

  “I must have spooked them,” Mika said, disgust in his voice.

  Dammit. If they’d fled the area, the Sentinels might not ever discover who they were or if they’d been responsible for Jacob’s disappearance.

  “You stay here,” Wolfe commanded. “I’ll circle to the other side and we’ll approach at the same time.”

  Not giving Mika time to argue, the Sentinel disappeared into the swamp, his movements so graceful he barely disturbed the choking vegetation.

  Less than ten minutes had passed when a whistle too high for human ears alerted him that Wolfe was in place.

  Pulling a gun out of the holster he’d hidden beneath his T-shirt, Mika eased his way down the steep bank and entered the tepid water of the channel.

  He grimaced as his boots sank into muck at the bottom, well aware that he was vulnerable to attack until he was on the other side.

  Not the most pleasant thought.

  Battling through the lilies, water moccasins, and one gator, Mika was at last on the island and threading his way toward the small cabin in the center.

  Glancing through a broken window, he glimpsed Wolfe coming in through the back, his gun raised to shoot anything that moved.

  Wisely waiting until Wolfe gestured for him to enter, Mika did a slow sweep of the barren front room that held a low couch, two armchairs, and a stained coffee table. He did a similar search of the two bedrooms and kitchen before returning to the front of the cabin where Wolfe was standing next to the heavy shackles that were bolted to the wall.

  His jaw tightened as he caught a familiar smell.

  “Jacob was here,” he said, watching as Wolfe bent down to lightly touch the pool of blood on the warped wooden floor.

  “And recently injured,” Wolfe muttered.

  Mika grimaced. “Yes.” The blood was the only reason he’d been able to recognize the scent as Jacob’s.

  Muttering a curse, Wolfe breathed in deeply, his senses far more acute
than any other Sentinel’s.

  “Humans,” he at last said. “At least six.”

  Mika glanced around the cramped, rapidly rotting room. As far as he could see there was nothing of value.

  The house couldn’t be fully secured. The view was obstructed. He could smell gas that would indicate a generator, but there were few of the usual comforts that most humans desired.

  The only thing it had to offer was privacy.

  “What the hell were they doing here?”

  Wolfe straightened, heading toward a narrow flight of stairs that led to an attic. Mika followed behind, his nose wrinkling at the unmistakable scent of antiseptic.

  “What the hell?” Wolfe muttered, bending low to keep from cracking his skull on the low, open beams.

  Mika joined his leader, his brows pulling together as he took in the metal-framed bed that looked like something that would be found in a hospital and the IV stand that still had an empty plastic bag and a long tube attached to it.

  “Someone was receiving medical attention.”

  Wolfe gave a slow shake of his head. “Jacob?”

  Mika shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  With a growl, the Tagos headed toward a metal cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out a scrap of wadded-up paper that had been left behind.

  Smoothing it open, the Tagos made a sound of disgust.

  “The Brotherhood.”

  Mika arched a brow. The Brotherhood was a secret society of fanatic humans that had first been formed in ancient Samaria. They believed it was their sole duty to try and rid the world of high-bloods.

  Thankfully, they were usually as cowardly as they were incompetent, and so far they’d proven more an annoyance than a true threat.

  “How do you know?” he demanded.

  Wolfe pointed toward the letterhead that had a stylized arrow running beneath the words:

  ONLY THE PURE.

  “This is their symbol.”

  “Symbol?” Mika arched a brow. “They sell merchandise?”

  Wolfe gave a sharp laugh, shoving the paper into the front pocket of his jeans.

  “I would find them funny as hell if they didn’t occasionally grow some balls and do something stupid.”

  Mika glanced back at the hospital bed, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

  “What interest would the Brotherhood have in Jacob?”

  “Hell, who knows?” Wolfe returned his attention to the cabinet, tossing out the gauze and needles and vials of human medicine as he searched for some clue. “He might have seen something he shouldn’t have. Or he possesses a certain skill they need.”

  “Maybe.”

  The Tagos easily picked up on Mika’s lack of conviction.

  Turning, he moved toward Mika. “What are you thinking?”

  Mika didn’t like guessing. He wanted facts. They didn’t lead a warrior down wrong paths.

  Unfortunately, he knew that expression on Wolfe’s hard face.

  He wasn’t going to stop digging until Mika revealed what was troubling him.

  “If they intended to capture Jacob after they lured him to the swamp, then why did they beat him and allow him to walk away?”

  Wolfe stilled, silently considering Mika’s question.

  “Could he have escaped?” he asked. “The idiots call themselves the Brotherhood and have fancy letterhead, but in the end they’re only humans.”

  “No, his injuries were too severe,” Mika said, trying to visualize what had happened after Jacob had been pulled from his car and then beaten nearly senseless. “And besides, if he was trying to flee his attackers, why wouldn’t he remain with Bailey until he could contact the monks and be returned to the safety of the monastery?”

  Wolfe paced the narrow floor, his brow furrowed as he considered the various possibilities.

  “It’s almost as if—” His words came to an abrupt halt as he sent Mika a worried glance.

  Mika’s heart missed a beat as the vague sense of unease became downright terror.

  “As if?” he prompted.

  “As if Jacob was the bait, not the target.”

  “Shit.” Mika was charging down the stairs and out the door before Wolfe even finished speaking. “Bailey.”

  Bailey wasn’t surprised that she woke alone.

  Mika had warned her before she’d tumbled into an exhausted slumber that he would have to leave as soon as Wolfe arrived.

  And astonishingly, her first reaction hadn’t been to assume he was running out on her because he didn’t find her important enough to stay.

  Instead, she’d been able to simply enjoy the small aches and pangs that came from a night of thorough, delectably vigorous lovemaking as she stood beneath the shower.

  No regrets. No clawing fear that she’d made herself too vulnerable.

  It was . . . blissful.

  Pulling on another loose sundress, this one in a pretty shade of peach, she combed her curls with her fingers and headed for the kitchen to make coffee.

  She intended to keep busy while Mika was gone.

  Not because of her old habits. But because she knew that if she sat around worrying that he might be in danger, it would drive her crazy.

  Taking her coffee and cell phone, she sat at the kitchen table and began returning messages that had come in overnight.

  The first was from her parents. She grimaced as she opened the message, already preparing herself for their usual spiel: So sorry we won’t be returning home as planned, but the school in New Zealand has asked us to come early and we’re sure you’ll understand . . .

  She sent back a quick text saying of course she understood, blah, blah, blah.

  There was no point in being disappointed.

  It wasn’t as if she could change her parents, or their obsession with their careers.

  All she could do was build a stable, loving home for her own children so they would never feel second best.

  She abruptly gasped, realizing where her thoughts had taken her.

  Children.

  Mika’s children . . .

  Excitement raced through her.

  The mere idea should have been shocking.

  Just a day ago she was certain that her life as the free-spirited healer was precisely what she wanted.

  No rules. No restrictions. No disappointments.

  Now she was once again Mika’s lover, and a strange, wholly unexpected urge to start nesting was settling deep inside her.

  Craziness.

  Still trying to accept the cataclysmic shift in her world, Bailey caught the unmistakable smell of blood.

  A high-blood was injured.

  Keeping a hold of her phone, she headed out of the kitchen, already suspecting who she would see as she stepped into the early-morning sunshine.

  The young man standing at the edge of the barrier had light brown hair that fell onto his forehead and a bluntly carved face that was bloody and bruised from a recent beating.

  His gangly body was equally wounded, the loose shirt and cargo pants covered in filth.

  Christ. He looked like he’d been tortured.

  Sliding her cell phone into her pocket, she took a step forward.

  “Jacob?” she breathed. “Who did this to you?”

  He held up his hand, pressing it against the shield. “I need your help.”

  She took another step forward. “What happened?”

  He licked his busted lips, one eye nearly swollen shut. “Can I come in?”

  Bailey twisted her hands together, her every instinct urging to her rush to Jacob and bring him into her home so she could heal him.

  It was what she did. What she’d been born to do.

  Only her promise to Mika kept her standing in place.

  “Tell me how you were injured,” she instead urged.

  “I was attacked.”

  “By who?”

  “I . . .” His gaze shifted to the side, almost as if he was looking for someone hidden among the nearby trees.
Shit. Was he afraid he was being followed? “The Brotherhood.”

  She blinked in shock.

  She’d heard of the secret society that supposedly hated high-bloods, but she’d never realized there were any in this area.

  “Why would they attack you?”

  “Please, I really need to be healed.”

  Bailey shook her head, the hair standing up on her nape at the edge of desperation in Jacob’s voice.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  Jacob sucked in a sharp breath. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t let you into my home until my friend returns,” she said. “He wants to speak with you.”

  “I can’t wait.” Jacob smacked his hand against the barrier, his panic a tangible force in the air. “I’ll die.”

  Bailey stepped back, her brows drawing together at the boy’s strange behavior.

  It was true he was wounded. And no doubt in pain.

  But he wasn’t near death.

  “No, you won’t.”

  There was a rustle in the undergrowth before a man stepped out of the trees and pressed a gun to Jacob’s temple.

  “Yes, he will.”

  Bailey’s heart thundered in her chest, her wide-eyed gaze taking in the stranger.

  He was medium height and medium weight with mud-brown eyes and black hair that was neatly combed from his square face. Dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a pressed cotton shirt, he looked more like a politician than a cult fanatic.

  Well, as long as you didn’t bother to notice he was holding a gun to the head of a poor, innocent boy.

  “Who are you?” she rasped.

  “I don’t give my name to freaks,” he said with patent disdain. Creep. Then he lifted his free hand, gesturing toward her. “Come here.”

  Her mind raced.

  She didn’t know why they were there, or what they wanted from her, but she knew it couldn’t be good.

  Her only hope was that she could keep the bastard distracted long enough for Mika to return.