Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

by Dannika Dark

  The jukebox played an old Nirvana tune on low volume, and most of the customers were eating. Jericho and Wheeler slid up to the bar and greeted Frank, an older bartender who usually worked the afternoon shift.

  “Slow night?” Jericho asked conversationally.

  Frank fixed their usual drinks and set a beer in front of Jericho. “We don’t have any specials running tonight.”

  Wheeler sipped on his hard liquor and watched a blonde at the end of the bar who had her blue eyes all over him.

  Jericho glanced around the room. “Where’s Rosie?”

  Frank wiped down the bar and threw the rag over his shoulder. He was an older Shifter with a strip of silver hair on each side of his head. “She took the night off. We’ve only got two girls on the floor tonight.”

  That seemed unusual. “Why only two?”

  “That redhead didn’t show up. I guess she doesn’t want this job if she’s willing to flake out so soon. Jake isn’t going to go easy on her; he expects his girls to call in when they’re going to take the night off.”

  “She didn’t call?” Jericho thought about her car out front, and alarm raced up his spine. “Do you have her number?”

  “Nope.” Frank walked over to the blonde and handed her a laminated menu.

  This was all wrong.

  “Looks like your girl split again,” Wheeler murmured. “Drink your beer. You don’t even know her anymore.”

  The room began to spin, and Jericho’s heart pounded against his chest. He stood up and stared vacantly at the door. Moments after she stormed off the night before, that douche bag had turned chicken and refused to fight Jericho. He must have given her a lift, because when Isabelle got mad, she walked. Maybe they just went home and were busy having makeup sex, but Jericho knew Isabelle. She loved working and would never disrespect her boss.

  “Frank!” Jericho leaned over the bar as Frank ambled over. “Do you know a guy named Hawk? Has a thick mustache, kind of big, Isabelle’s boyfriend?”

  “No. The girls don’t bring in their men; it disappoints the customers.”

  Jericho stalked toward the back hall where Jake’s office was. He knocked on the door and then opened it. Jake wasn’t in the room, so Jericho knelt down in front of a filing cabinet and began to sift through the papers.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Wheeler chided from the open door. “This isn’t just going to get you fired; it’s going to get you in legal trouble.”

  Jericho found her file and folded the papers, stuffing them into his pants beneath his shirt. “Are you in my pack?” He slammed the file drawer and confronted Wheeler. “If you’re my brother, then you have my back. Isabelle’s in trouble, and either you can help me find her, or you can nurse that addiction waiting for you on a paper napkin. We all have to fight addiction, but she’s more than a craving. I don’t care what Denver told you, I’m not turning my back on this girl when I feel in my gut something’s wrong.” He held a fist against his stomach. “My wolf knows it and I know it. Even if we didn’t have all that history, it still isn’t right to turn my back on a woman in trouble.”

  “Maybe you need to call in Reno and have someone a little more badass than you take over.”

  Jericho stared Wheeler down with cutthroat eyes. “If that asshole laid one finger on Isabelle, you’re going to see an epic display of badassery.”

  He shouldered past Wheeler and shoved his hand against the front door, flinging it open. A guy stepped out of Jericho’s path when he saw the vicious look in his eyes. Jericho hopped in the truck and slammed the door. He pulled the folder out and flipped on the interior light, heart racing like a bullet train.

  The passenger door opened and the truck bounced as Wheeler got in. “Where are we going?”

  Chapter 11

  After watching me eat a bowl of cereal, Hawk left me alone in the bedroom for hours. He said if I behaved, he’d bring in a television. The last thing I wanted to do while handcuffed to a bed was watch Wheel of Fortune. I couldn’t be sure if he’d left the house, so I’d spent hours strategizing an escape and decided that shoving a nail into his eye socket would only piss him off and get both of my arms tied up again. Hawk had the key to my handcuffs, and even if I tried to fight him, I needed the key to escape. Did he carry it in his pocket? I had to be smart about this.

  Later, he reappeared with an overcooked pork chop and soggy green beans from a can. I drank the soda but left the food alone. I thought about what that alpha had said to me at Howlers about going into heat. The precursory tingles were already happening sporadically. Soon it would turn into waves of heat, filling me with an uncontrollable desire to mate.

  That was unacceptable in my current situation.

  I had to get out.

  Without a clock or window in the room, I had no concept of time, and the hours melted away.

  Hawk appeared and leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m going back to the house to pick up a few things. Delgado’s men don’t seem to watch the house at this time of night. Is there anything special you want me to grab while I’m there?”

  A gun?

  “My underwear, some clothes, my toothbrush, my soap because I don’t like using your bar of soap, and can you bring the snacks we keep in the pantry on the third shelf? I have some special protein bars in there. And while I’m thinking about it, I need you to grab the pink box of tampons below the sink and a few razors, unless you want me looking like Sasquatch. There’s an electric razor in the bottom right drawer if you don’t trust me with sharp objects,” I said sarcastically.

  Irritation bled on his face.

  I spoke in a dispassionate voice, as if we were having an ordinary conversation and I wasn’t shackled to a bed. That was my plan. If I acted like a victim, he would feel empowered and begin to treat me like one. I also wanted Hawk to take longer so I could escape.

  I crossed my ankles and readjusted the pillow behind my back. Hawk ran his finger across his dark mustache and lowered his voice. “Don’t make any noise. If I come back and one thing in this room is out of place, I’m going to punish you.”

  He shut the door and I almost wanted to laugh. Half my brain was thinking this was still a joke. The other half I blocked out because I couldn’t deal with it. After he left, I waited several minutes before I mustered the courage to stand up.

  With my left hand cuffed against the post, it meant I had to move the heavy bed with my back to it. At first, the bed wouldn’t move. But I began bumping my butt against the mattress and eventually it budged. I kept going until I’d moved it about a foot from the nightstand. I fell to my knees and swept my left leg beneath the bed again.

  When my big toe touched the cord, I quickly pulled it with my heel. It didn’t come all the way out, but when I stretched my arm beneath the bed, my fingertips recognized the feel of an old phone. I peered behind the bed, but didn’t see a jack.

  “Where are you?” I whispered. “Please don’t be behind the dresser.”

  I wiped the dust off the phone and wondered if Hawk knew it was under there. When I pulled the nightstand away from the wall, I found the jack.

  “Bingo!” I said excitedly.

  I reached over and plugged it in, praying for a dial tone.

  It was an old phone without a display panel. It came with a cradle, so I held down the hook and let go. My heart soared when I heard a dial tone. My fingers trembled; I had to think about this carefully. The Breed highly discouraged calling human law enforcement because of the records they kept. Despite my current situation, I could wind up in more trouble if they filed a report. Unfortunately, Shifters didn’t have a 911 equivalent.

  After deliberating, I called Howlers.

  “You’ve reached Howlers. This is Frank. How can I help you?”

  “Frank! It’s Izzy.”

  “You’re calling in now? Jake’s going to fire your—”

  “Frank, I’m in trouble. Is anyone there?”

  “No, Rosie’s off and we’re down to two girls. Jake�
�s on vacation for the week.”

  Hell’s bells. My rescue was unraveling into an epic fail. “What time is it?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Please, Frank.”

  “Just past eight.”

  “Is Jericho there?”

  There was a slight pause. “He was here earlier but took off with his brother.”

  “Do you have his number? Or Denver’s number?” I faced the wall with the phone against my right ear.

  “Why don’t you leave me your digits and if he shows up, I’ll have him call you? Look, it’s picking up in here and—”

  “Don’t hang up! Just give me his number; this is an emergency.”

  “All right.”

  After he recited the number, I burned it into my brain and dialed with a shaky hand. “Please pick up.”

  “Denver. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Izzy. Please don’t hang up. I’m in trouble, and I need help.”

  He chuckled. “That sounds about right. What the train wreck is going on?”

  “My ex knocked me out and kidnapped me. I’m handcuffed to a bed.”

  The line fell silent and his voice lowered an octave. “Say again?”

  “Should I call the police? I don’t even know where I am. What do I do?” I said frantically.

  “Is this a joke?”

  My heart beat at a hummingbird’s pace. Hawk could come bursting through the door at any moment. “Denver, I know you hate me, and that’s fine. But I don’t deserve to be raped and killed over a grudge. Where’s Jericho? He knows what Hawk looks like. I can tell you where he lives.” I rattled off the address to his other house and described his car.

  “You’re saying that he cuffed you to a bed?”

  I began shaking the more I said it out loud—the reality was sinking in like a waking nightmare. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. He knocked me out and when I woke up, my hands were tied up with cords. He must have injected me with something to keep me knocked out for so long. Now I’m just cuffed, and I found a phone under the bed. He said if he comes back and anything’s moved, he’ll punish me. Look, I don’t know if he’s serious, or if he’s just trying to get back at me for leaving him. This isn’t the man I’ve been living with. I don’t know who this guy is, but I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Calm down, calm down. Let me think. No, Austin, it’s Izzy.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Laser tag.”

  I blinked. “Oh. I heard that’s fun.”

  “True that. Hold on.”

  He muttered something to Austin while I pulled the bed back in place. The phone fell from my ear and swung from the cord over the edge of the bed. I grabbed it and put it back to my ear.

  “Izzy? Izzy?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Describe your surroundings.”

  I glanced around. “I’m in a room with no windows, and I’m not familiar with the house. We could be anywhere. He told me not to scream, so maybe we’re still in the city.”

  It sounded like he was relaying everything I said to Austin and whoever else was with him. I sneezed from the dust and tried to calm myself with a few deep breaths.

  “If we give you a number, can you call it in about an hour?”

  “What? He might be back by then!”

  “Calm down, Izzy. We’ll keep the number open so when you call, we’ll be able to trace where you are. If he comes back, then wait until it’s safe. You don’t even have to talk to us; just hide the phone, turn off the ringer, and let us handle the rest. Don’t put yourself in any danger. Is the phone hidden?”

  “I was going to put it back under the bed.”

  “Good. Pull the cord out of the phone so it doesn’t ring. Keep it close. Do you want to stay on the line for a while?”

  “And talk about what? You hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Izzy. I think you’re a coldhearted bitch, but hate is a strong word. I used to hate you, but I’m over that. Did you shift at all?”

  “No. He threatened to lock me in a crate. It’s not worth the risk. If I shift, my wolf isn’t going to let me shift back. I can feel her in there, and she’s pissed.”

  He hissed through his teeth. “Bastard.”

  “I want to talk to Jericho.”

  “I don’t know where he is. Austin’s trying to call him but not getting an answer…. Wheeler’s not answering either?” he asked someone in the background.

  “Denver, I’m going to hang up. I need to put the room back together. Do you promise to keep the line open? I may only get one shot at calling.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  I snorted. “Good to know you have one.”

  “Shut it. Do you think you can remember this number?”

  What choice did I have? If I could remember a table of orders, I was confident memorizing a phone number would be a piece of cake. Especially if I made up a song about it.

  Denver recited the number five times until I felt like I had it down. We talked for another minute, and he asked a few questions about what Hawk did for a living and where he hung out. Then he quizzed me on the phone number and when I got it right, we ended the call.

  I carefully pulled the bed to its original position and hid the phone underneath. After crawling between the sheets, a drop of sweat slid across my forehead. Making that call was the first time I’d allowed myself to think about what might happen if no one came for me.

  The satin nightgown didn’t help my situation. Hawk had closed the vents in the room and it left the air stale and warm. Despite my discomfort, I wanted to stay covered up when Hawk returned. The probability of going into heat soon left me in a quandary. Without knowing Hawk’s animal, I had no idea if he’d react to it at all, but I sure would. I just hoped this emotional situation didn’t trigger it to start early. If that alpha wolf was right in his prediction, I had just over four weeks left.

  Once I glanced around for the millionth time to be sure everything was back in place, I began singing the phone number in my head to the tune of “Another Brick in the Wall.” It made me smile when I remembered how Jericho had worked on one of their tours. We’d had some amazing nights under the stars, sharing deep thoughts about life after the show ended. I bought the concert shirt on the first leg of the tour and slept in it every night until Jericho complained he was tired of seeing me in it.

  I missed that shirt. I’d seen it for sale online a few times, but it wasn’t my shirt. Not the one with all the memories and music soaked into the fibers of summer nights with Jericho’s arm around me.

  Here I was in a crisis, and I couldn’t stop thinking of Jericho. I groaned against the pillow.

  I told myself I’d just close my eyes for a minute, but within moments, I’d fallen asleep humming the song.

  ***

  Jericho burned the tires on his truck as he sped to the address listed on Isabelle’s application. The prestigious neighborhood made him leery of what line of business her boyfriend was involved in. Jericho didn’t think it was legit if he’d gone out of his way to buy a house outside the Breed community, as if he were hiding from someone.

  “Park up the street,” Wheeler said. “He knows what you look like. We need to take a stroll up the back way and look inconspicuous.”

  “Yeah, we blend.”

  “Let’s just be chill and scope it out.”

  Jericho cut off the lights and parked behind an RV. “Maybe you should wait in the truck as the lookout.”

  “A lookout?” Wheeler angrily popped his door open. “That all you think I can do is sit around and play peepers? I’m your brother. Where you go, I go. So you can drop the solo shit, because we’re doing this together. ’Preciate ya.” He slammed the door and headed between two houses.

  “Goddammit,” Jericho murmured, jogging behind him.

  “Look how these fuckers live,” Wheeler said quietly as they passed a house with a four-car garage. “We have a big house for a growin
g pack. These assholes have twenty rooms for two idiots and a poodle.”

  “I used to break into homes like these with Izzy. We’d target a house when the owners were out of town and lounge in their pool during the summer.”

  “No shit?”

  The neighborhood didn’t have alleys, so they walked up the street behind Hawk’s. A dog barked from one of the backyards, and Jericho slowed his pace. Luckily the fences weren’t connected between houses and there was enough space between each home to see the street on the other side. “I think we’re close. Let’s cut through.”

  They scoped their surroundings to make sure no humans were watching and jogged between two houses. A motion-sensor light switched on, and they hauled ass. As they reached the homes on Hawk’s street, they slowed down and skulked in the shadows.

  “His address is fourteen twenty-four,” Jericho murmured.

  “This is it then.” Wheeler tapped his finger against the brick house to his right. “The one across the street is the next odd number. You want a boost into the backyard, or should we break out a window?”

  Jericho locked his fingers behind his head, deep in thought. “The neighbors will call the cops if they see us climbing through a window. The fence around back will give us privacy. My goal is to get in that house and make sure Isabelle’s okay. If he has alarms, then so-fucking-what.”

  “That’s doubtful,” Wheeler said with a grumble. “He might be hiding his ass in the human district, but I doubt he wants a security system to have a bunch of human police showing up at his house.”

  Jericho’s eyes scanned all around. “I just hope he has cheap windows. I didn’t bring my sledgehammer,” he said, tapping his shoe against the fence.

  “What if he’s in there? He’s going to hear you knock out the window.”

  “Then go up front and ring the doorbell. Create a diversion before I knock him senseless.”

  Wheeler stroked the hair on his chin. “Sounds like a plan.”

  When Wheeler hoisted him over the fence, Jericho sailed like a bird and then slammed down on a hard slab of concrete.

  “Fuckwad!” Jericho gritted through his teeth. He was expecting grass, or at the very least, a bush. Hawk had poured cement in his entire backyard with only a covered hot tub and a few tables near the back door.