Phoenix Aflame (Alpha Phoenix Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  “It is. Shall we watch that?”

  Quincy shook her head.

  “Do you want to watch something else?”

  “Belle. I want to watch Cinderella with Becky.”

  Tasha put on Beauty and the Beast without another word and she and Tasha snuggled up on the bed together. She too hoped that both her daughters would be watching Cinderella together again. Where was Harrison? Had he managed to catch up with Becky’s kidnapper? She didn’t want to wait for news, but waiting calmly was the best she could do for Becky right this moment. The best she could do for Quincy.

  Belle had just come to live in the Beast’s castle when Tasha’s phone rang. For half a second she thought it would be Harrison. But common sense reasserted itself. Harrison was in phoenix. He was not able to use a cell or any other form of communication. She was on her own with their hastily made plan to stall the kidnappers.

  “Hello.” Her voice sounded thick and strained.

  “Is this Natasha Sutcliffe?” a hoarse voice demanded. Was it the same as before? Harrison had said there were two wolverines involved. Tasha could not tell if it was male or female. Her blood cooled to ice.

  “I’m Natasha D’Angelo.”

  “Where’s your husband?”

  “Trying to get a loan at the bank.”

  There was a snort, whether of disbelief or contempt, Tasha could not tell. “If you want to see your brat again, you’ll need to move fast.”

  Tasha gasped. “I don’t have the kind of money you want. Nothing like it.”

  “Five million or you won’t see her again.”

  “My husband can raise it, but it will take time. We don’t have five million dollars lying around.”

  “It’s up to you. We don’t get the money. You don’t get the kid. You have a day.” The threatening voice cut off as abruptly as it had begun. She still didn’t know if she’d been speaking to a man or a woman. Had she endangered Becky?

  Five million dollars. Did Harrison have five million dollars? Maybe his parents did – if they mortgaged their spread – but she didn’t think that Harrison was quite that wealthy. And even if he was, why did the kidnappers think he would be willing to pay that kind of ransom for a stepchild?

  Now that she had taken this second call, she was even twitchier. She sat back down on the bed and pulled Quincy close against her.

  “What do you need money for, Mamma T? I’ve got twenty dollars that Poppy gave me.”

  “That’s good to know, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  Harrison circled high over the makeshift campground. He could see Ames and Gardiner were crouched waiting in the thick dry brush on the hillside above the lean-to. The big cats were still except for the ends of their tails which twitched back and forth, like a housecat watching a sparrow.

  The wolverine had placed Becky inside the lean-to. Harrison could no longer see her, but he could hear the man rustling around inside his camp. He focused not on his anger but on the task. Their job – priority one – was to rescue Rebecca. Only then could they pursue justice. Catching Becky’s abductor would have to wait until she was safe. Tasha was depending on him. And so was Rebecca.

  Ames and Gardiner were awaiting his signal. He made a big loop scoping out the immediate vicinity. There ought to be two people. Dustin and Malik Willet had been arrested. That left the mom and Shawn still at large. On cue, a heavyset, middle-aged woman came toiling up the road on a wobbly bicycle. Innocent passerby or Colleen Willet? Her stomach-churning scent settled the matter.

  She made a beeline for the hidden campsite, barely bothering to cover her bike with brush before rushing into the lean-to. The pair instantly begin to bicker like old acquaintances. Or overbearing mother and rebellious son.

  “How come you’re back so fast? Did you call her? What did she say?”

  The woman replied in a voice nearly as deep as her son’s, “Fucking squawked about not having the money.” She laughed. “I didn’t hang around after, dumbass.”

  “I told you to go into Anaheim.”

  “I was supposed to ride a fucking bicycle into the fucking city?” A hand connected with flesh. Twice.

  Eventually the man spoke again. “Did you at least dispose of the phone?”

  “Buried it under a rock.” The woman sounded boastful.

  The man sighed. “Did you wipe it off and stomp it good first?”

  “It’s wiped. I didn’t smash it. We might need it again.”

  Another sigh. “Don’t matter if we need it again. I told you, we can’t fucking use the same one twice.”

  “Well, I ain’t riding all the fucking way back just to break up the fucking phone. If it matters so fucking much, you haul your ass there.”

  “Can you tell me where you hid it?”

  There was a confused string of directions. Harrison debated with himself whether he could follow them accurately. That phone might be the evidence they needed to convict this pair. But it sounded as though the man – the actual abductor – planned to retrieve the phone. There might never be a better chance to rescue his daughter. Someone needed to go after Willet, but they had no one to spare.

  Shawn Willet came out of the lean-to at a trot. Soon the SUV was headed where the woman had come from. Ames and Gardiner were still hiding immobile and invisible. They were upwind of the lean-to. Their prey wouldn’t get any warning before they pounced.

  But wolverines were known for their ferocity and immense strength. They were many times more powerful than could be predicted by their mass. In the wild, wolverines routinely took out packs of wolves and had been known to kill grizzlies. Even two cats might not be enough to take her.

  He whistled once. Four big tufted ears swiveled. Two pairs of golden eyes followed his flight in the sky. He had to assume that Ames and Gardiner had overheard the bickering as he had, and were now aware that there was temporarily only one wolverine to subdue. He whistled again. The lynx immediately began creeping toward the lean-to. The woman came out of her shelter fiddling with her clothing. They were never going to have a better opportunity.

  Time for a third whistle. From up on the hillside, he heard an answering double whistle followed by the reassuring piping of the D’Angelo battle song. One of his brothers had his back. A hawk-sized phoenix took off after the SUV, still singing. Harrison hoped that the paranormal melody struck terror into the heart of Becky’s kidnapper.

  On the ground, the lynx tensed his powerful haunches in preparation to spring. In the trees a long golden cougar moved silently through the branches until he was directly over the woman. He dropped down on her just as she raised her head and sniffed the air. Simultaneously, the lynx pounced. The woman was shifting before Harrison could swoop down and knock the shelter aside with his massive talons.

  The makeshift lean-to collapsed on the three wrestling animals. Their snarling and shrieking filled the air with a terrible noise. On the bare earth, in a clutter of cans and bottles, Becky lay limply on her side. Harrison snatched her up and bore her off.

  He found a clearing well away from the raging battle at the campground and returned to help Ames and Gardiner. Both lynx and cougar were wounded and bleeding. The wolverine had sustained some damage too. Her ears were torn and there were big gouges in her neck and on her flanks. Blood dripped from her mouth. But she wasn’t going down easily. She lunged and her savage teeth caught the lynx on one shoulder.

  Harrison whistled again. The cats instantly abandoned the fight. They backed up to a cautious distance. The wolverine spun in a snarling circle. Harrison dropped a single feather onto her blotchy black back. It hit her dead center. She was a cremated pile of ash before the sticks and branches that had made up the lean-to had caught fire.

  Ames and Gardiner transformed back into human and began to extinguish the blaze with handfuls of dirt. Harrison left them to it and returned to Becky. It did not take long to find Ames and Gardiner’s van. He returned to human and looked for clothes. In a duffel bag, he found an olive-green jumpsu
it that was too small. He put it on anyway and sat down holding Becky in his arms. She was breathing but even when he called her name, she didn’t move.

  Ames and Gardiner stalked up to the van naked and sooty. They were muscular, gray-haired, thick-set men. Each had an identical tattoo on their ring fingers. Partners in every way. They were both bleeding sluggishly from several places.

  “How is she?” one asked. Ignoring his wounds, he began to put on his clothes.

  “Unconscious.”

  “Right,” said the other one. “I’m John Gardiner. He’s John Ames. We’re out of here. Let’s go, buddy.” He sat on the floor beside Harrison and finished pulling on his shirt.

  The van headed downhill toward the freeway and Harrison finally spared a thought for how Shawn was being dealt with by his brother. No point worrying. Either Lincoln or Pierce would make sure Willet’s criminal career came to an abrupt stop today.

  Becky was splayed across his lap. Her breathing was unnaturally shallow and she had yet to move. He and Gardiner were facing each other on the floor of the van. Ames was behind the wheel.

  “Why isn’t she waking up?” Harrison asked aloud.

  “Whatever Willet gave her is still in her system,” Gardiner said calmly He was holding a pressure bandage over his shoulder. “We know a doctor. That’s where we’re heading. Probably she will advise watching the child until she wakes naturally, but let’s err on the side of caution.”

  Harrison swallowed hard. He was torn between the impossibility of explaining the events of the last few hours and the inadvisability of leaving Becky in this condition. “Shouldn’t we go to the hospital? We could say we found her like this.”

  Gardiner raised shaggy eyebrows. “They would call the cops. Child services. Have to. We would be asked where we found her. What the hell could we say? You know that they would find it suspicious that there were no signs of a search of the park and that we didn’t call the cops from the get-go.”

  “Suppose she dies?” Harrison forced the words out. He was going to lose his new daughter.

  “See those red marks around her mouth and nose?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My guess is that the perp used a cloth soaked in chloroform. Used a bit too much for a kid that small. She will wake up with a headache and might even vomit. Let’s see what the doc says.”

  “And this doctor won’t report this incident to the cops because?”

  “Because she is a bear. And because she knows me and Ames. And she knows about rogue shifters. Hadn’t you better call your wife?”

  He had lost his mind. Tasha and Quincy would be in the hotel worried to death. At least he hoped they would be. He needed to know if Tasha was okay. She answered on the first ring.

  “I’ve got her.”

  “How is she?” Tasha’s voice trembled. “Daddy says he’s got Becky.”

  “I want to talk to her,” Quincy said.

  “Becky is unconscious. We’re on the way to a doctor to have her checked out.” He kept his voice calm.

  “Unconscious! Did he knock her out?” Tasha asked.

  “Not physically. He drugged her. Probably chloroform.” In his arms, Becky stirred. Her eyes opened. She smiled when she saw him and closed them again. “I think she’s waking up. But we’re still going to take her to the doctor.” He put two fingers over his daughter’s pulse. It was slow and steady.

  “Can I meet you at the hospital?”

  “Best not, sweetheart. I’ll take care of her for you.”

  Tasha audibly gulped. “Okay,” she whispered.

  His heart clenched at the fear in her voice. “Let me talk to Quincy.”

  “Daddy,” Quincy said urgently. “Did you get my sister back?”

  “I did. She needs to see a doctor before I bring her home. But she seems fine.”

  “I need to go pee,” said a thin voice.

  Quincy squealed. “Is that her?”

  “Yup. Give me back your mom.” He held the phone to Becky’s ear.

  “Becky?”

  “I’m thirsty, Mamma. And I need to go pee,” Becky said fretfully.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more,” returned Becky. “But I need to go pee.”

  Harrison took the phone out of her hand. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  The van exited the freeway. Gardiner cocked his head. He murmured into his mic. “Five more minutes,” he told the child. “Can you hang on for that long?”

  “I guess.” Becky struggled to sit up. “Why aren’t we buckled up?” she demanded crossly.

  Harrison hugged her close. “She’ll be fine,” he said into the phone. “See you later.”

  Outside the van the victory song of the D’Angelos grew louder and louder until it was directly over the van. His brother was back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Harrison called from the lobby so she and Quincy were waiting by the door. Harrison was wearing a green jumpsuit that didn’t fit. Becky looked pale, filthy and exhausted. The skin around her mouth and nose was red and shiny. She flew into Tasha’s arms like a homing pigeon.

  “Mamma,” she squealed. “We rode in a van without seatbelts or a car seat or anything.”

  “Did you?” Tasha hugged her close and then examined her carefully.

  Becky’s braids were unraveling and her bare legs and arms were dirty. Her face glistened with some sort of pungent ointment. Her pupils were slightly dilated. But her hug was fierce and strong.

  “Yes, and Uncle Grant came and he didn’t have any clothes.”

  “Oh.” Was Becky hallucinating? She glanced at Harrison who nodded and mouthed ‘later’.

  “What did the doctor say?” Tasha asked.

  “That she should move around. Drink plenty of water to flush her system. We can give her something if her nausea returns.” Harrison had scooped Quincy up in his arms for a hug. “She can eat if she’s hungry.”

  “I throwed up, Mommy,” complained Becky.

  Tasha hugged her daughter more tightly. Now that she thought about it, her baby did have a sour smell. “Do you want a bath? And to brush your teeth?”

  “Can I have a snack first?”

  Harrison nodded. “She can eat and drink whatever she wants, just not too much at first. And we have to put this on her face until those marks fade.” He pulled a small tube out of his pocket.

  “Can I have a bath too?” Quincy squirmed in her father’s arms.

  “With me?” asked Becky.

  Tasha met Harrison’s blue eyes. He winked at her. “I’ll fill the bath,” he said. “What do we have in the way of a snack?”

  Tasha thought. “Oranges. And pretzels.”

  “Can I have an orange?” Becky asked.

  “Me too.”

  It was weird and yet entirely normal to be bathing her two shrieking and excited daughters. They ate their oranges in the bathtub and splashed one another and her while she was trying to get them clean. Harrison was showering in the other bathroom. In a heartbeat, disaster had turned to domestic commonplace.

  She felt as if she was floating and yet as if she wanted to yell and break things. This time she recognized the adrenaline jag. The girls bounced in the tub and fell silent as a wall of water drenched her. “That’s it,” she said. “Out you get. I’m going to have to mop up the floor and change my clothes.”

  “You girls okay in there?” Harrison boomed from the other room.

  “More or less.” Tasha helped the girls get out and stand on the soggy bathmat.

  “It’s wet,” complained Quincy.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because we splashed too hard,” confessed Quincy. She threw her damp arms around Tasha’s neck. “I’m sorry, Mamma T.”

  “I’m sorry too,” said Becky. “Is it time for supper now?”

  “We can eat early,” she promised. “Let’s get you dressed.”

  * * *

  “I can’t believe that we went to dinner like nothing had happe
ned.” Tasha groused three hours later after they had gotten the overexcited girls off to bed. “I still don’t know what happened.”

  “Best thing for all of us. How are you doing, my darling?” His arms embraced her from behind.

  Tasha leaned back into his chest. “I’m a bit shaky. Tell me what happened – not the version you sanitized for the girls, but the truth.” She turned so they stood belly to belly.

  “I would never lie to you,” he vowed. “But it’s not a story for kids.” He drew a deep breath. “I killed one of those wolverines today. And Grant took out the other.”

  “Grant! So Becky didn’t dream him.”

  “Nope. He lives in Los Angeles. Lincoln assigned him to help our bodyguards.”

  “Without telling us?”

  “Yeah. Who would have thought the Little Warbler would turn out to be a warrior?” He sounded proud.

  “All you D’Angelos are warriors.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “So where is Grant now?”

  “He returned to Los Angeles. He didn’t want to intrude on our honeymoon. And it’s best he establishes his presence in LA when the cops are trying to account for a dead thug in a burnt car.”

  Some bridges had been mended there. She could only be glad that things would be better between Harrison and his youngest brother. “I’d have liked to thank him.”

  “He’s my brother, we’ll have lots of opportunities.”

  “You’re sure both wolverines are dead?”

  “I’m sure. I immolated the female. Nothing left but ashes. Grant dealt with the male.”

  “How?”

  “You remember that story of the SUV that went through the guardrail and crashed?” he asked.

  Tasha wrinkled her nose. “I changed the channel,” she said. “That’s not the kind of news I like the girls to watch.”

  “Grant did that. The first responders said the driver was thrown from the vehicle and died instantly.”

  “Oh.” She leaned harder against his chest. “He deserved it.”

  “Yup. Those Willets were serial killers. If we hadn’t stopped them, they would have kept on killing – for money.”

  “How did Blaine ever get hooked up with them? I mean, he’s a total jerk, and his killing Nancy Callahan seems both weird and plausible, but finding hitmen?” She shook her head in disbelief. How could she have married such a psychopath?