by BA Tortuga
Maybe.
“Open your eyes. I found the antidote, so you can change. I’m saving it, though. I have to take the thing out of your back so your legs have a chance, but it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt a lot.”
He tried to follow what she said. In the beginning, he’d talked to her, told her about Ma and Poppy, about Helena and Lizzie and Gray and Pete. About Gus. His Gus.
Sam smiled, remembering the way his wolf growled, the way Gus bit and touched him, made him purr. He hadn’t wanted to purr for so long.
“Sam!” She held his nostrils closed until he gasped, blinked at her.
“Bitch.”
“There you are. You were fading.” She looked worried. Sam didn’t blame her at all. He was worried.
“Sorry. I was….”
“Stoned. I know. Did you hear me?” She stroked his hair out of his face. “I don’t want to do it, but if I’m going to get you out, I have to. I don’t know if your Gus is coming, but you’re not going to make it if I don’t move soon.”
“He’ll come.” Gus had to come.
“Okay, then when he does, I’ll be ready.” She had tears in her eyes, and she smelled like regret. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I hate this.”
He managed a grin. “Not as much as I will, I bet.”
Marina sniffled, nodded. “I know. Tell me you’ll forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive, honey. Do it.” Whatever it was, he would cope.
She reached behind him, fiddling with something in his spine, and a fire started to build, down where his toes were covered by the filthy blanket. He winced, shuddered.
“I’m sorry, Sam. It’s going to get worse.”
He growled, deep in his chest. “Quit apologizing, girl. You’re pack. Act like it. I’ll be fine.”
She stood, chin lifted as she looked down at him. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” A fresh wave of pain hit him, and he knew it was a lie, but she was about to have to go, so it didn’t matter.
Sam was beginning to believe nothing mattered.
Chapter Twenty-One
GUS STARED at the carnage that was Sam’s glittery funhouse apartment. There were signs of a heavy-duty struggle, there was blood, and how Helena and Gray could say the place smelled like him was beyond Gus. It smelled like male cat spray.
Luckily, this was a scent he could track, because it wasn’t Sam.
Something tickled his face, and he reached up, the feather that was dangling from the ceiling spattered with blood, and that made him want to howl. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. He growled, the sound bubbling deep in his chest. He hated this not knowing, not being able to feel Sam in this place without the bad energy.
“Where do we start?” Helena was ghost white, and Gray… Gray was barely holding it together.
“We start with you putting your cell number in my phone, then taking Gray and getting us some sort of bolt-hole and that medicine.” He needed them away.
“I can help.” Gray’s growl was near desperate, and Helena caught Gus’s eyes, shook her head.
“You can help more by being my command center, man. We need a place to bring Sam. If these kitties are as bad as you say, I need you on the horn getting us out of town.”
“Hand me your phone, man. Gray, should we hunt clothes for him?”
“He’ll want something soft….” Gray was tight around the mouth but calmer.
Helena handed Gus his phone back. “We’re in there. We’ll find a safe place—unless you want me to clean this.”
“Not yet. I may need the scent again.” Even if it made him gag.
“Okay. We’ll find a suite somewhere.” Helena wrapped her hand around Gray’s arm. “We’ve got to get ready for him.”
“Yeah. Call me and let me know. I need you out. Your scent is distracting.”
Helena nodded, dragging Gray out. “Find him.”
“Got it.” He would. He so would. As soon as they got far enough away that their scent faded, Gus closed his eyes, letting his other senses take over.
It was Sam that hit him first—his mate’s scent wrapped in pain and fury and fear. Underneath that were others—strangers to him, more than one, males. They had been angry, violent, but not murderous. They had taken Sam with them.
Someone wanted to make an example of Sam; he would bet on it.
He couldn’t decide if he was going to beat the living fuck out of Sam for not telling him—telling someone—that this shit had been going on, or be so proud of his mate’s strength that he couldn’t bear it. One way or the other, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t start tracking. He figured in this instance, he was glad he was more feral than his family or his mate. He could do this.
He headed outside, searching, but the trail only led him to the top of the stairs. So many people. So fucking many feet. Gus growled, heading back into Sam’s apartment. He had to focus on one thing, on one scent, the strongest one.
The scent of something new hit his nose on his third trip in and out.
A wolf.
A female.
Not Helena.
Okay. Okay, this one had a hint of fear and a ton of frustration, and she smelled like Sam, as well. A fresher scent than the apartment should have. This he could follow.
He headed all the way down the stairs, turned left, her scent still there. Yes. He started moving faster, following the smell, imagining the click of her high heels. She was the kind of girl who would wear heels, with her lemony-floral undertone and her spicy natural scent.
It was the frustration that drove him, led him. She had come back here, over and over.
What the hell was she doing? What did she want? It had to be something he could use.
He walked for hours, losing the scent and having to backtrack before finding it again. He followed her every damned where she’d been in the last week, probably, but he finally found a scent that led to the same place, again. Now he had to make a plan.
He went to the restaurant across the street—a dingy all-night coffee shop that had seen better days but was still in business, thank God—and finagled himself a table by the window. He ordered a cup of coffee, a plate of eggs, then settled in to look. The sign above the door said Imports but very little else.
Imports. He didn’t have to be a city boy to know that meant all sorts of unsavory things. He’d watched his crime TV as a kid. Hopefully Miss Frustrated would appear sooner rather than later and have all the answers Gus needed.
He’d eaten his eggs, toast, a piece of pie, and drank four cups of coffee, when a pack of slinky, well-dressed men walked into the place, and he saw a tall, leggy blonde lock the front door behind them. About twenty minutes later, those bright red heels were on the pavement, blonde hair covered by a black hooded coat.
Gus slipped the waiter a couple of twenties and followed, keeping downwind as much as he could. She walked steadily for a few blocks, then started moving fast—faster than he’d expect in those shoes. It was all he could do to keep up with her; she obviously knew the city.
She disappeared about half a block in front of him, and he ran to catch her, yelping in surprise as he came face-to-face with the muzzle of a revolver. “What do you want?”
“My mate.” What else was he gonna say? I like your coat?
“What the fuck are you talking about?” The hammer came back, that click sounding so fucking loud.
“His name is Sam. He’s a dancer. You go to his apartment once a day, at least.” She could shoot him all she wanted; he had to get Sam.
“Who are you? What’s your fucking name?”
“My name is Gus.” He stared, not at the gun, but right into her eyes. “He’s mine, and I came to get him back.”
“Oh, thank God. I’m Marina. Come on.” The gun was slipped away, and those long legs started moving again.
Gus shook off his stunned reaction and followed, hoping to God this wasn’t a setup, but if it was, he would fight his way out.
She led him on a wild goose chase, up and down all
eyways, ending up climbing a set of stairs behind some weird tea shop. “This is a safe place. Did you bring help, or is it just you?”
“I have a base camp and someone who can help in a pinch.” It looked seedy, not safe.
“Okay. There’s a lot of them. I’ve kept him alive, but I can’t get him out, not without them taking me.”
Gus shook his head. “You’re not one of them. How did you keep him alive?” It didn’t make sense.
“Carefully. Lots of shitty drugs. He screams sometimes. It’s loud, but it’s the best thing I have.”
Yeah, but why?
“Tell me who you are.” It was time for quid pro quo.
“Marina.” She looked him in the eyes. “I already told you that.”
“No, that’s your name. I want to know why a wolf is living with cats.” That was important, somehow.
“That’s none of your business. Do you want to know where he is or what?” The air was filled with the sudden, tangy flavor of fear, of shame.
“I do.” He would help her too, if he could. He’d had enough of the whole cats versus dogs bullshit. They could all work together.
“They’re keeping him in a cold storage room at the docks. There are a lot of them, though. I’m the only one they let in there alone.”
“Why would they do this?” It was a stupid question, and Gus knew it. It was one thing for Sam to live in their territory quietly. It was another entirely to be mated to a wolf.
One blonde eyebrow lifted. “Don’t be stupid. He reeks of wolf.”
“They don’t keep you in a box,” he snapped, trying not to tear something to pieces. Anything.
“No. Not anymore.” She opened her coat, her neckline pulled aside to show scarred and mangled skin on one shoulder, down toward her breast. “I earned my way out.”
Fuck. That…. Jesus. He’d thought those thugs who’d beaten him up in that fucking sand-flea-ridden jail were harsh. This was….
“Okay. So how do I get to him?”
“There’s one door, and it’s big. They have guards that have shifts. I go three times a day—six in the morning, two in the afternoon, ten at night. The guards at night, they’re bored. They chase me a lot.”
“Just like kitties, huh?” He shared a look of perfect understanding with her for a moment. “We wait until tonight, then.”
She nodded. “Do you want me to distract, then? I can go in, get him unchained, but he can’t walk on his own anymore, I don’t think. His legs are bad. They knew he danced.”
Gus bit back the howl that wanted to come out of his throat, nodding. “I’ll call in the cavalry, which I admit, is one person. But that gives us a getaway driver.”
“I have a gun.” She grinned, and suddenly Gus saw how fucking young she was—twenty, maybe. “Which you sort of know.”
“I do. I can tell you from experience, though, that guns make the penalties so much more severe.” He tried to grin for her. “It also sounds the alarm. We’ll use it if we have to.”
“I tried to help him.” She stepped away from him, slipped her pistol into her pocket.
“Hey.” He reached out but didn’t quite touch, knowing his body language had to be nonthreatening. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“I…. They’re going to kill me when they find out what I’ve done. Sam… Sammy promised he’d help get me out.”
“Of course he did.” Sam would absolutely do that for anyone who helped him. Or even anyone who needed help. It was his family’s way. Gus stepped up sort of sideways, like he would if they were in their wolf forms. He put his hand on her arm. “We’ll take you with us.”
“Okay.” She met his eyes, trembling underneath his hand. “They’re not good. What I don’t understand is why they haven’t killed him yet. He won’t sign over his money. He won’t cooperate.”
“Maybe he’s just a challenge. Maybe they think he has a sugar daddy.” Hell, he didn’t know. He just knew he had to put it all on the line to get Sammy back.
“I think Cedric is going to sell him.”
“Sell him….” His gut clenched, and he was going to kill something.
“That’s how they got me. I was eleven. There are people who want… exotic pets.”
Christ. He’d heard some seriously fucked-up shit in his life, but this was something he’d never even thought of. He wanted to hug her, but figured it would be out of line. Gus cleared his throat instead. “So, we get both of you out.”
“Okay. Okay. Let’s get inside somewhere. It’s going to rain, and they watch.”
“Okay.” He followed her inside the safe house, his nose working overtime.
The place was tiny, the scent of wolf sharp. Besides the furniture, there was a duffle, a backpack. That was it.
“Have a seat. I have a map. I can show you where they have him.”
“That works.” They’d look, he’d call Helena, and that would keep them busy until dark.
God, what was he thinking, staging a rescue with a stranger, a little slip of a wolf? He hoped to fuck they could pull this off. They would just have to see.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SAM PANTED through his mouth, eyes rolling. Every fucking bone in his body hurt, and he was 98 percent sure he wanted to die.
Maybe ninety-nine.
He thought about Gus a lot these days, dreamed about the warm eyes, the shaggy hair and hot body. His mate. It was a touch ridiculous that he’d lose his mate immediately upon finding him. Still, it made sense. No cat should mate with a wolf, and he was being punished for it, right? That and he’d made himself both a target and a curiosity. He should have kept his head down and done his job and….
“Sammy?” Marina’s voice sounded low and scared. “Sammy, don’t be dead.”
He tried to open his eyes, but maybe this time she’d kill him, let him free.
She hovered over him, her lipstick a dark smear floating around in his swimmy field of vision.
“Oh, good.” She rumbled softly. She smelled so good today. Somehow, he thought she smelled like Gus. How weird was that?
Sam made a soft sound, his claws retracting and pushing. No, not claws, fingers.
“That’s right. He’s here. He came, just like you said. I need you to wake up, Sam.”
No. No, Gus was gone. This was a trick that Cedric had forced Marina to perform. He couldn’t blame her, but he wanted to bite her anyway.
She reached out to touch the cage, and he could smell Gus, right there on her arm. “You have to wake up.”
“Gus?” Was that his voice?
“Soon, Sam. Soon. You have to be ready for him, now. Tonight.” Her voice was an urgent, growling whisper.
Sam blinked. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. I have to go. I’m going to give you a little shot, which will be a boost, and unlock you. You get ready.”
“A shot.” He was a cat. Did she know how to dose a cat? Shit. Gus was there? Really there? He might just fall over. “Please don’t lie to me.”
“I haven’t lied to you yet. Your mate says they’ll bring me too. That I’ll come too.” Oh, sweet baby.
“They?” His lips were so dry that every word felt like sandpaper passing over them, and he wanted to scream when the shot went in.
“Your brother and sister. Please, get ready.” The silver cuffs fell from his ankles, his wrists. “Soon. Minutes, okay?”
He tried to answer, but his mouth wouldn’t work. The room was beginning to breathe, expanding and contracting like his eyes were bulging or something. He might be able to walk. Maybe. Marina slipped away like smoke, and he was left wondering if he’d hallucinated it all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
GUS WAITED what seemed like an eternity for Marina to get into position. She talked to Sam first; he could see that from his vantage point just inside the door to the main floor of the big building. The guards had sectioned off a comfy little set of chairs and couches and set up a TV.
Thank God for the kitty need for creature comforts.
She was wearing a tight little tank top that was totally inappropriate for the weather and a pair of jeans small enough that he could have read her pulse. Still, even Helena had to admit that Marina was a distraction, moving around the guards, rubbing on them. Gray had no idea. Too bad the guy couldn’t see it. They had brought him along, though, because he’d refused to stay behind. He would be their ears for any approaching reinforcements. Guy had amazing hearing. And in wolf form, Gray was huge and the fiercest bastard Gus had ever met. It made sense; God knew, the man had had to fight for everything. The whole family was a clusterfuck. Honestly. Gus grinned a little, thinking how he’d tell Sam that.
Sam. The grin faded. He could smell Sam—hurt and sad and desperate.
One guard had Marina up against the wall, rubbing, and the other two were watching, pacing.
Gus bit back his growl. He would take her with him, for sure, take her to the pack and let them teach her what freedom felt like.
Marina’s hand slipped to the back of one kitty, heading toward his gun, and Helena growled. “Get ready, boys. She’s making her move.”
Gus tensed his muscles, then released, letting out his breath so his first burst of movement wouldn’t fill his muscles with carbon dioxide. Then he pulled back up, ready to go.
Helena made the first move, stumbling into the light with her pistol carefully hidden. “Excuse me? My car’s outside, and I….”
One kitty growled and stood, the one around Marina turned, and Marina snatched the pistol and shot the man between the shoulder blades.
Fuck. It was on, now. That little girl had some rage. Gus sprang into action, churning up the distance between them and the guards, taking down the one on the right of Marina.
Helena’s shot rang out, taking out the third guy, the man going down like a lead balloon. So much for no gunplay. Damn.
Gus didn’t have a gun, but he had plenty of oomph, and it didn’t take much to break guard number two’s neck. Not much effort at all.
“Go get him. Hurry.” Marina was stripping the one guy’s body, stomping his phone, grabbing the wallet.
