by Debra Kayn
He shook her, dislodging her hold. She cried out. Pure panic rooted deep inside of her.
"Keenan," she screamed. "Help me."
Swinging out, twisting, and turning, the pain within her numbed as her fight or flight instincts dug their claws into her.
"Fucking bitch." The man hurled her in the air.
Startled out of her attack, she calmed, right before everything went black.
She was free.
Chapter Fourteen
A white paper fluttered across the driveway. Keenan toed the kickstand, got off the Harley, and picked up the litter.
I've been kidnapped. Call 911. Grace Lambert.
His gaze snapped to the house. More papers littered the step in front of the door.
He grabbed them all, following the trail out into the yard, under the bush, and started to read.
Help me. I'm locked inside the house. Grace Lambert.
Call the police. I'm Grace Lambert. A man named Keenan kidnapped me.
Please save me. I've been kidnapped. Grace Lambert.
He crushed the rest of the messages in his hand, searching the area for any he could've missed. On top of the members of Avery Falls going through hell, he had no time to do cleanup in town if Grace's messages reached one of the tourists or a local.
He walked around the side of the house, making sure the papers hadn't escaped the front yard, and entered the garage through the walk-thru door. He dug in his pocket for the key to the lock and stopped. The padlock was gone.
He glanced left and right and found the lock he'd put on the door that morning on the tool bench.
His skin prickled at the idea Grace had escaped. He couldn't lose her.
He pushed his way into the house, searching as he went through the kitchen. Heavy breathing came from the other end of the house. He jogged down the hallway, following his senses, and stopped in the opened doorway of his bedroom, only to find Grace pushed against the wall and a man holding his hand around her throat.
The man's head turned, and his gaze narrowed at the sight of Keenan. He braced, recognizing the man.
Four.
He quickly took in Grace's condition. The injuries on her face. The frantic wildness in her gaze.
“Motherfucker.” He lunged, tackling Four onto the floor.
He brought back his fist, hitting Four in the face, over and over. Blood sprayed up, splattering Keenan in the face.
Four bucked underneath him, dislodging Keenan. He scrambled up to a crouch, swinging his leg out, and knocked Four off his feet again.
He shoved his hand between the top mattress and the box springs, searching for the knife he had kept there before the switch, knowing Grace would miss it in her search of the house, and he could easily disarm her if she had found it. Making contact with the round handle, he wrapped his fingers around the knife and pulled it out without losing any time.
Four kicked out, connecting with Keenan’s jaw. His neck snapped, and he swung out wildly, creating space between them.
Four was unpredictable. A year ago, Four botched all the training exercises. He would remain conscious after severe shock treatment, exceeding the drug dosage, and the handlers continually failed at wiping his memories. To the Alpha Bio Project, Four was a failure.
He was dangerous and undisciplined.
And, he hurt Grace.
Keenan stalked forward, blood in his vision.
Four held his ground, hands up, ready to protect himself. Keenan never stopped. When he was close enough, he swung, slicing the blade of the knife through the air and making contact across Four’s chest, cutting through his shirt, leaving a trail of crimson.
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Four. “The project is over.”
“You’re not switched.”
“I’ll never let them control me.” Four shifted left and right like a boxer, keeping his gaze on the knife in Keenan’s hand. “It doesn’t have to be like this, man. We’re free. Nobody can stop us. We can have anything we want.”
Four retained his enhancements without the project successfully wiping his past. He should be locked up in the cave. He should've died under an avalanche of rocks, never to see daylight.
He rolled the knife handle in his hands. “You were supposed to be in the cave. How did you get out?”
“The handler sent me out seconds before the tunnel collapse with the explosion.” Four leered at Grace, looked at Keenan, back at Grace. "I've been in hiding, waiting, for a moment to work my way back into the town."
A growl erupted out of Keenan’s mouth, not liking the way Four looked at Grace. “You hurt her.”
Four's lecherous sneer pissed Keenan off. "She puts up a fight. I like a woman who—"
Keenan jabbed the knife into Four’s chest, holding the blade there as Four slunk to the floor with his eyes wide open, still daring him to put a stop to his insanity. Once he was down on the floor, Keenan pulled the knife out and wiped the blade across his thigh.
Sooner or later, Four would've died anyway. The AB Project wouldn't have allowed him to live.
At least this way, he was sure Four would never hurt Grace.
He stepped away from the dead man at his feet and turned toward Grace. Her cheekbone was swollen, and there was dried blood underneath her nose. She stared at him, making no move to sit up or move away from him.
He picked her up and carried her out to the living room. Putting her on the couch, he left her there and went into the kitchen. He grabbed two towels. One, he ran under warm water. The other one, he got as cold as he could before wringing out the excess water.
Returning to Grace, he cleaned the blood off her face and quickly held the cold towel to her face to combat the swelling. He dropped his gaze down her body, looking for any other injuries, and found her shirt ripped at the collar down past her breasts. There were red abrasions on her delicate skin, though no blood.
He clenched his teeth, wanting to kill Four all over again but slower and more painful.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked gruffly, anger still boiling inside of him.
She put her hand on her side and winced. He moved his palm over her ribs, taking in her breathing and ability to tighten her stomach in preparation for the pain that would come. Her lungs were fine. But Four could've easily bruised a rib or two.
"I don't think anything is broken." He brought her hand up and forced her to hold the wet towel to her face. "I need to get rid of the body."
She lowered the towel. "Don't leave me."
He stopped. "I'll come back."
In her condition, she couldn't get far if she tried to leave. He'd deal with the papers he'd found outside later.
He walked to the bedroom. A pool of blood stained the wood floor underneath Four.
Not wasting time, he hefted Four over his shoulder and carried him through the house and into the garage. Dumping him in the UTV, he strapped Four in to keep him from falling out of the small two-seat, off-road vehicle.
Making sure the shovel was strapped to the rack behind the driver's seat, he opened the garage door and then rode around the house to the backyard. His property backed the Idaho National Forest. Five minutes out, he could bury the body without any witnesses.
He stopped in a clearing, far away from the creek that flowed from the northwest corner. Doing quick work, he put shovel to dirt until he had a seven-foot-long rectangle carved into the earth. He wasn't worried about digging a deep hole. The wild animals could dig Four up and feast on him when he started to stink for all he cared.
All he needed to do was buy time. Grace needed taken care of. His club needed taken care of. The town needed taken care of.
Hell, he had no idea why he stuck around.
The loyalty inbred in him by the project toward his MC brothers disappeared with the switch. Chaos would reign down on the town as soon as each member came out of the changes happening, and they'd want to take their hurt and pain and betrayal out on anyone they faced.
Unlike him, he sus
pected a lot of them had wives or children they lost when the Alpha Bio Project ripped them from their previous life.
He lost nothing except himself.
He dragged Four the twenty feet to the hole and rolled him in. Making quick work, he covered the body and walked across the mound, tapping the dirt down.
Giving the makeshift gravesite one more look, he went to the UTV and rode home. It wasn't the first person he'd killed and buried. It wouldn't be his last.
Though he should feel something. The emotions he'd regained were there. He often got pissed. He'd felt fear. He had empathy for those who would suffer during the switch, knowing what they would go through.
But he felt nothing killing Four. The controller for the Alpha Bio Project was probably happier than shit that some of the training stuck.
He closed the garage door and walked into the house. Standing still inside the kitchen in front of the sink, prepared to wash the blood off him, he cocked his head. Grace remained on the couch where he'd left her.
He could hear her breathing.
Chapter Fifteen
As soon as the door leading to the garage closed, Grace's body tensed. Keenan promised to return. But a man had already come into the house and beat the shit out of her.
"It's me," he said seconds before stepping into the room.
She looked over her shoulder because she trusted no one anymore. Thankful it was his voice, his face, his body, and he was alone. The pressure in her chest eased a little.
Then, she remembered why he'd left her.
"What did you do to him?" she whispered.
"Forget it happened." He sat down on the couch and let his head fall back on the cushion. "He won't hurt you again."
Of course, the man wouldn't come back and hurt her. Keenan had killed him.
She'd witnessed the stabbing. She'd overheard the conversation. The emotions coming from both men had filled the room until she tasted them and wanted to vomit.
Knowing what he was capable of doing should've reinstated her belief that Keenan would kill her once he tired of holding her captive.
She knew the statistics. If a missing person wasn't found within the first twelve hours, the odds of finding them alive dwindled with each passing hour.
She couldn't even remember how long he'd kept her. Maybe two or three weeks.
By now, her sister probably had every law enforcement officer in the state looking for her. She swallowed. Her sore throat protested the natural movement.
Or maybe Amelia already believed she was dead. It would be easy to jump to conclusions. Her tent and Jeep were still at the campsite. After so many days, it was a normal thought process to believe something tragic had happened to her.
Amelia would mourn her. Alone and suffering, her sister would forever blame herself for not coming with her on the trip.
She refused to let her sister live the rest of her life in that kind of hell. She had to find a way out. She needed to get back home.
Even if it meant compromising herself to gain her freedom.
Keenan sat with his head back, eyes closed, and breathing deeply, evenly. As if he hadn't a care in the world.
Meanwhile, her heart raced. Her arms and legs tingled. Her sore neck made her nauseous and worried for her next breath. The long captivity was wearing on her body. Not only the beating she'd taken today from the man who'd broken into the house but from lack of sleep and fear since she walked up to the cabin.
"Keenan?" she whispered, not sure if he had fallen asleep.
He grunted without opening his eyes or moving.
She whispered, "Thank you."
He ignored her, not giving her acknowledgment that he understood what she was trying to tell him.
"He was going to kill me." She gulped, still trying to wrap her head around what had happened. "I don't know why."
"Because he's a killer."
She blinked, replaying his response. Keenan was a kidnapper. The man was a killer. Knowing he belonged to a motorcycle club, she understood without anyone hitting her in the face that being here wasn't safe.
"W-was he your friend?"
Keenan opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. "I don't need friends like that, and those who know me wouldn't want to be friends with me."
The strange paradox confused her more. She ducked her chin, looking down at her clenched hands. While he protested about needing anyone in his life, she'd seen how the other two bikers treated him as an equal. The man today was completely different.
Her head pounded. "Are you going to stay home now?"
"For tonight."
She nodded and unfolded her legs from underneath her on a groan. "I'm going to bed."
Her side hurt with every movement. She wanted to go to bed and find a spot that made breathing easier.
Standing, she stepped toward the hallway and stopped because dizziness hit her out of nowhere. Her heart pounded, thinking about being alone in the room. "I'm sorry you had to kill someone because of me."
She hobbled to the bedroom, not needing a response. Life was precious. After losing her mom, she couldn't imagine wishing death on anyone. While it was hard to understand what had happened tonight, in her heart, she believed if Keenan hadn't arrived home at that second, she'd be dead.
Closing the door to the bedroom, she padded her way to the bed and crawled up onto the middle. She laid her head down on the pillow, wincing at the throbbing along her cheekbone. Not once had anyone ever hit her in the face.
She normally got along with everyone. On the rare times she'd argued with a past boyfriend, she preferred to walk away rather than fight. Drama was for other people, not her.
Fear hung onto her, clogging her throat. She couldn't even cry because it would hurt too much.
Her sore ribs made her body ache. Hollow inside, she feared breaking.
The bedroom door opened. She jerked to a sitting position, regretting the movement when her sides squeezed her.
Keenan held up a wet towel. "There's no ice in the freezer, so I filled up the trays. In the meantime, you can put this on your neck or face."
She took the towel from him. "Thanks."
He stayed standing by the bed. She pressed the cloth against the side of her face.
"How many messages did you put outside?" he asked.
She sighed, having forgotten about her attempt to get help before the break-in. "I don't know."
"You realize if someone finds a paper, bad things are going to happen?"
She nodded. Earlier, it was a risk she was willing to take.
"Is that why...?" She grimaced, regretting what she'd done. "Is that why the man broke into the house?"
She never thought of what her actions could do except bring someone to save her from Keenan. Bad things happened to other people, not her.
All she wanted was to go home. She hadn't done anything to deserve being kidnapped, beaten, and treated like a prisoner.
"No. He wasn't here because of the messages." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Not this time."
"What do you mean." She leaned forward. "Is someone else going to hurt me?"
He stared down at the floor. She wasn't asking for anything or for him to let her go. She was asking if she was in more danger than what she was in with him.
"I don't know," mumbled Keenan.
"You don't know?" She dropped the wet towel. "You're scaring me."
He glanced at her. "You should never have come to Avery Falls."
She leaned back at the intensity rolling off him. "How would I know that? I had a job to do."
"Not here."
She frowned and instantly stopped when her head pounded. "I was paid to come here."
"Who paid you?"
She swallowed. "A man named Kyle Bowman."
Keenan's gaze narrowed. "Did you meet him?"
"No. Not face to face." She hugged her middle. "We corresponded by email. He hired me to come to Avery Falls and take a picture of a Pekania pennanti. Then, he sent
me an advance, including money for the expenses to travel here, and reserved the campsite for me. If I successfully produced a picture of the Idaho fisher, he's obligated to pay me the set price we negotiated in the contract. Whether I do or don't get a sighting, the amount of money he gave me made the job worth doing."
"That's impossible." He stood.
"Per Idaho Fish and Game, the Pekania pennanti do live in the area. Though they are elusive," she stated.
She hadn't blindly accepted the job. She'd taken almost two weeks to do her research and contact others who assured her the species was thriving in North Idaho before agreeing to the job.
"There was no fucking job." He ran his hands through his hair and growled, facing away from her.
"Of course, there was a job. I just explained how I got hired." She gritted her teeth and raised up on her knees, pushing through the pain. "If you take me to my Jeep, I can show you on my laptop. I have the correspondence between Mr. Bowman and me."
He whirled around. "I don't need to see shit to know you're wrong."
"How can you say that?"
He pulled on his beard. "Because I'm Kyle Bowman."
She fell back on the bed. The aches and pains in her body ignored. He'd brought her to Avery Falls to kidnap her?
Chapter Sixteen
"You're Kyle Bowman?" Grace palmed her forehead. "I don't understand."
Keenan grabbed the back of his neck. He hadn't suspected anything untruthful from her during the days she begged for her release. Until now.
He damn well knew what name the Alpha Bio Project gave him eighteen years ago. As soon as training was over and they released him out to society in Avery Falls with a driver's license, social security card, and a deed for his house, they'd made his legal name Kyle Bowman. In Avery Falls Motorcycle Club he was known as Keenan. And, within the project, the controller and handlers called him Fifteen.
Someone was using his name and knew enough about him to have Grace come to Avery Falls. The only ones capable of deceiving her had to come from the project.
