by Eve Langlais
A rough grip around her upper arm dragged her from the car, and Mean Lady marched her up the steps.
She couldn’t help gasping, “What do you want from me? Is this about my brother? What’s going to happen?”
“Shut up.” The heavily accented demand came with a rough shake.
Charlotte cried out in pain then wondered at the creaking that erupted from the trunk. Wait, was the car bouncing?
Mean Lady barked something at the bearded guy, who thumped the trunk with his fist and yelled something in Russian. Probably along the lines of calm down.
How could anyone calm down? This was an epic disaster.
The car stopped shaking, and only then did the bearded guy pop the trunk. Lawrence sat up, looking only slightly disheveled, and drawled, “Thanks for the lovely nap.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jarl’s eyes were still blood red and weeping constantly, and this despite the bottle of water he’d poured over them. He looked exhausted and sickly with a huge hint of angry. He shoved past Charlotte in the direction of the house, dug a key out from his pocket, and slotted it into the lock. Because they totally needed to lock the door on a house in the middle of nowhere.
Mean Lady shoved Charlotte in the direction of the open door. If she went inside, that was it. She knew how this ended in the books. They’d probably kill her. Hurt her badly at the very least.
She panicked, and her feet tangled. In moments, her clumsy body pitched.
No one saved her that time, but she did get her hands out quickly enough so only the palms truly felt the pain. Her face had been saved this time. Her glasses, too. She’d been lucky not to lose them. She was pretty nearsighted without. One day, when she could afford it, she’d get that laser surgery and discover what it was like to wake up in the morning and not have to squint at her clock.
Today was not that day.
She was yanked to her feet roughly and shoved in the direction of the door again. She stumbled and did her best not to faceplant a second time. Through her own terror, she heard a rumbling growl.
Did the countryside have wild animals? She cast a fearful glance over her shoulder and, despite the barren, snow-dusted fields, wondered if she’d be safer inside.
The hallway proved as decrepit as the exterior, the wallpaper peeling, the plaster uneven and cracked in a few places where it showed through. She caught a glimpse of a room with a couch, the seat sagging in a huge dip, a few mismatched wooden chairs, a cold fireplace.
The kidnappers were talking in Russian again, meaning she had no idea what was happening. Propelled in the direction of the stairs, Charlotte climbed. Where else would she go?
A door at the far end of a sloping hall boasted a hasp, and a padlock hanging loose. It wasn’t hard to guess their destination.
She balked at the doorway. Entering would truly make her a prisoner.
“No. I—”
They didn’t listen. The shove sent her reeling over the threshold, tripping over a mattress on the floor. She sat down hard enough she knocked her teeth.
For a few thudding heartbeats, she remained still. During that respite, she took in the hideous room with its peeling flowered wallpaper, illuminated by a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The mattress had a ratty blanket crumpled on it and nothing for a bottom sheet. The stains proved many and varied, the different shades of yellow, brown, and even putrid green had her shoving away from it and sitting in a dusty corner.
More than ever, she wished she’d stayed in the States. No one knew where she was. No one would even think to look for her when she went missing.
Dumb. So freaking dumb.
She had to escape. The door would be locked; she’d heard them click it the moment they had her inside. Which left the window.
Rising, she moved for it, only to find it nailed shut.
“No.” She curled her fingers on the ledge and leaned her forehead on the dirty glass. Well and truly screwed.
Click. She whirled as the door suddenly opened again, and Lawrence was thrust inside. Or more like he walked right in. The portal slammed shut and was locked. But at least she wasn’t alone.
Unlike her, Lawrence didn’t appear agitated at all. He flashed a smile. “Hey, Peanut. You look a little frazzled. Did someone hurt you?”
“Not yet, but it’s coming.” She wrung her hands. “We are so screwed.”
“Why would you think that?”
She gaped at him for a second. “Are you not paying attention? We’ve been kidnapped. Locked in a room. We’ll probably be tortured. Or killed. Or worse.”
“There’s something worse?” he asked, arching a brow.
“I’m a woman, of course there’s worse. And given you’re a pretty boy, you should be worried, too.”
His jaw dropped, and then his shoulders shook as he laughed. “That will never happen.”
“As if you’ll have a choice. There’s too many of them.”
“Bah. Three is nothing. This time, I’ll make sure you’re safely out of reach and then rawr.” He faked a roar that had Charlotte rolling her eyes.
“Pretending you’re a ferocious lion isn’t going to help us. Those bad people have knives and guns. They’re dangerous.”
“Don’t you worry about them, Peanut.”
“Don’t worry? Have you lost your mind? We are locked in a room in the middle of nowhere with murderers. We are so screwed,” she moaned. Not to mention, if they were killers, then that meant there was little chance of Peter still being alive. Any hope left in her shriveled and died.
“Have a little faith, Peanut.”
“My name isn’t Peanut.”
“And you don’t like Charlie.”
“What’s wrong with Charlotte?”
“I’d say our shared experience has moved us past formal names. You may call me Law.”
“I am going to call you Annoying if you don’t stop. Now is not the time to be flirting or playing your stupid games,” she huffed
“First off, it’s always a good time to flirt, and second, this isn’t a game.” He winked. “It’s called banter and is meant to calm your nerves.”
“My nerves are fine.”
“Says the woman shaking like a leaf.”
She was? Charlotte glanced down and saw her body trembling. Only for a second, then she was engulfed in a hug.
The first word out of her mouth was, “Hey,” but before the rest could slip, the warmth penetrated her chill, the tension in her shoulders eased a slight bit, and somehow she felt less anxious overall. She didn’t remember a high feeling so good. So right.
He broke the spell, not by the hand stroking down her back, but his murmured, “That’s my Peanut.
“I am not your anything.” She moved away from him. “This is not the time to be screwing around. We are in so much trouble.” It surprised her that Lawrence had not asked why yet. How to explain that her brother didn’t always follow the laws?
“We’ll be fine.”
“Your optimism might be misplaced.”
“You forgot to add in absolute arrogance because I’m too pretty to die young.” He winked. “And so are you.”
He thought her pretty? No. Don’t get distracted. She shook her head. “I don’t know how you can be optimistic.”
“Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
Trust him? She’d just met him, and he’d yet to make a good impression outside of the whole trying-to-save-her thing.
With not much to do other than be nervous, time passed slowly. To his credit, Lawrence tried to ease the situation with witty talk. Most of it went in one ear and out the other. She was turned inward, trying to think of a way out, and thus not paying much attention.
Lunch arrived, bread and cheese with some rusty-looking water. At least they wouldn’t be starved. Or she wouldn’t. Lawrence took one sniff and turned up his nose.
“I am not eating that crap.”
“More for me, then.” She refused to cajole him into having some. He was a grown
man. Let him starve if he was going to be picky. She tucked it away for later in case their next meal didn’t come as promptly.
Just after dusk there was the sound of a car approaching. A peek from the window showed nothing, but she could hear voices. New ones, at least three, perhaps more, along with doors slamming.
Then silence except for the thump of feet on the stairs and the creak as they came down the hall.
Lawrence abandoned his spot by the window and stood in front of the door a second before it slammed open. The biggest of the thugs filled the opening. With that beard and expression, he needed only an eye patch to make the perfect pirate. He crooked a finger in her direction.
Gulp. The time had come. Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt.
As she went to step around Lawrence, he put out his arm to stop her. “I appreciate your support, Peanut, but I’ll handle this.” And then he embarrassed her with his drawled, “Would it kill you to knock? What if I’d been getting busy with the lady?”
Chapter Five
Lawrence rightly deserved her weak punch to the kidney. His words were crude and rife with innuendo, but for a good reason. Best to lay a claim on the woman now before this perv thought he could put his hands on her. Any thoughts they had about touching his Peanut ended now.
He stood in front of Brownbeard, and added, “Do you have a tie or a sock we can use to signal when you can visit?”
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Staking a claim so they know you’re taken,” he muttered back. “I suggest you play along.” Even if the guy in front of him apparently didn’t understand a word.
Brownbeard nattered something in Russian. It brought the leering one with his red eyes to join the party.
“What is problem now?” Jarl asked rather testily, shoving Brownbeard to the side.
“I was just explaining to your friend that it’s not cool to be a cockblocker.”
“Oh!” Charlotte’s exclamation was a precursor to her jab against his lower back.
“Your mouth, it moves too much,” Jarl complained.
“I’ll have you know my mouth is one of my most valuable body parts. I’ve been told I’m orally gifted, and not just in the bedroom.” He winked, not actually flirting with the thug but trying to throw him off balance. It worked.
Jarl reeled, his thin features contorting. “Not interested.”
“Then why have you taken me?” Lawrence boldly asked in hopes of an answer. Was this another case of a crazy ex-girlfriend?
“The boss speak with you.”
“What boss?”
“The big boss. Don’t play stupid. You know what you have done,” Jarl stated.
Lawrence shook his head. “Dude, I’ve done a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific. The only thing I know for sure is whatever has you pissed, she’s not a part of. Let her go.”
“Quietness, now, I command.”
“Did you study under the great green master? Or should I say, under his eye study you did.”
Jarl growled. “Come. Now!” Jarl and Bearded stepped to either side of the door and waited for him.
Only as they moved to close the portal did he realize Charlotte wasn’t coming. “What are you planning to do with her?”
“Whatever I like.” Jarl guffawed and totally deserved the punch to the face that cracked his nose. Only once the annoying man started gushing blood and screaming did Lawrence tuck his hands behind his back. Brownbeard stared at Jarl then Lawrence.
Lawrence shrugged. “He shouldn’t talk smack about a lady.”
“Kind of ironic you’d say that,” she muttered.
Actually, more like hypocritical. She didn’t know him well enough to see how he used his words to his advantage. The right phrase could knock the staunchest person off balance. Bullies especially hated being mocked. It made them rash. Look at Jarl, who came swinging, only to get knocked down.
At Brownbeard’s heavy sigh, Lawrence made a gesture of, what do you expect? When Jarl would have come for a third smackdown, Brownbeard stood in his way and barked something in Russian, to which Jarl replied. Judging by the tone—sulky with a chance of repercussion—Jarl would wait to exact his revenge.
Bring it. Next time, Lawrence wouldn’t just wreck his face.
Jarl shut the door leaving Charlotte alone inside. They flanked Lawrence down the hall. The stairs creaked ominously with the three big men on them at once, but they survived and made it to the main floor, which was lit with a variety of naked bulbs and a few lamps, some of which flickered. Old place like this, it was surprising it still had power.
The dance of shadows might have proved more ominous and impressive to someone else. The granite expressions of the two new men were boring. The guns the guards bore might be a problem, but only if they managed to get them out and aimed in time. He didn’t plan to move slowly when he acted.
A woman, still wearing her outer garment, sat on someone’s spread coat on the sagging couch. Heavy mascara lined her eyes. Must be the boss.
“You’re bigger than I was led to expect,” she declared.
“All over, baby.” Said with a wink.
Her lips, heavily rouged, pursed. “Tell us where it is.”
“Where what is?”
“Do not play stupid. I am aware of the reason you came to Russia.”
“My best friend’s wedding wasn’t exactly a secret.”
“What wedding? Do not change the subject. Did you find it?” She leaned forward.
His turn to appear perplexed. “Find what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You lie.” She slammed her carved wooden cane on the floor and almost lunged from the couch. “We know you were hot on its trail. You said so in the letter we intercepted.”
The story twisted a bit more and still had nothing to do with him, but he was intrigued. A feline trait. “What makes you think I want to give it to you?” Perhaps playing along would get her to reveal more.
“Hand it over, or we will hurt her.”
“What makes you think I care what happens to Charlotte?” He did, but admitting that meant examining why. He’d met her only the night before. She hated him. And yet he had this urge to protect her. Then again, he’d protect anyone in the Pride who got caught in a bad situation.
A thinly plucked brow arched. “Are you saying you don’t care?” She smiled. A wicked thing more ominous than a cat crossing someone’s path. “Jarl will be happy to hear that. He’s always had a thing for American girls.”
The implication drew a growl from him. “Leave her alone.”
“If you want to keep her safe, then you will give me what I want.”
First impulse involved telling her to shove her demands somewhere moist. The rash choice. There were quite a few guards in this room, not to mention others that might get to Charlotte before he could. He needed to even the odds. Never attack at a disadvantage unless your life truly depended on it. He looked for a way to stall. “What if I don’t have it yet?”
“Then you will tell us where it is.”
“And if I say no? Are you going to take me to the basement and torture me?” he offered. That would probably thin out the guards around him. Not many people could handle the screaming and the blood.
“Torture is too messy and inconclusive.” Boss Lady wrinkled her nose before giving a shark grin. “In these modern times, we use drugs. Lucky you, I’ve got a new version of a truth serum to try.” She snapped her fingers, and there was movement behind him.
As he turned to see a big dude reaching out, he raised his arms to block and missed the guy sneaking in behind. The pinprick in his arm was like the smallest of stings. There and gone, not even worth his attention.
But perhaps he should have minded it because his senses clouded almost instantly. His vision filmed over, and when next he regained consciousness, it was to find himself in a strange cabin in bed with a woman.
A human and—judging by the scent on her and by the marks at he
r neck—his mate.
Chapter Six
“Who are you?” Lawrence woke as suddenly as he’d passed out and eyeballed Charlotte as if he’d never seen her before.
Kind of ballsy given his weight still pinned her to the bed.
The fact he asked made her a tad terse. “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t remember.”
“Everything is fuzzy.” He grimaced and shut his eyes, his brow furrowing. “Did I drink too much?”
“You tell me, and while you’re figuring it out, how about you let me loose. Not everyone likes being squished like a bug,” she snapped, still miffed he’d forgotten her. So much for his outrageous flirting. She was just another nameless woman to him.
“Can’t we keep cuddling a while longer?” he asked.
She wouldn’t soften. Not after everything he’d done. “No.” She heaved in a deep breath as he rolled off of her.
In an odd twist, she kind of missed the weight. Despite the fact it trapped her, it also reassured. She’d been so terrified back at that abandoned farmhouse, and then he’d come to her rescue. He’d kicked open the door to her prison as if they were in some action movie featuring a big, blond berserker of a Viking warrior. He’d grabbed her attacker and tossed him across the room, his features more feral beast than man. Surely a trick of the light and exaggerated by her frazzled nerves.
Only, he’d acted wild, too.
Her hand went to her neck, sticky with dried blood, and yet no pain. “Sorry doesn’t quite cut it.”
His gaze tracked the movement of her fingers. He swallowed hard, and his voice rose an octave as he asked, “What happened? Last thing I remember…I…” His brow turned into a mess of furrows. “I don’t remember anything after the needle.”
“They drugged you?” That would explain a lot.
“Yeah, with something that was supposed to make me spill my guts, but I guess I had a bad reaction and it put me into a comatose state.”
“That would imply you were incapable of acting. I assure you, you were anything but asleep.” He’d appeared even more alive than usual. Thrumming with energy.
