by Zoe Chant
She realized that it had been a while since she’d really thought about her father. She had always blamed him for changing after her mother left, but as she was coming to realize, she had played her own part in that growing distance. Her mother had taught her that it didn’t matter how much you loved someone, they could still leave and break your heart. When her father had died, it was almost like being deserted a second time. Maybe she’d spent more of her energy protecting herself than she’d ever admitted.
But now—now there was Josh. And Rick, and Allison, and Tammy, and every other member of this extended family that could be hers, if she was brave enough to take it.
She heard the scuff of feet approaching behind her. Turning, she said, “Josh?”
But as a hand covered her mouth and her arms were roughly pinned behind her back, she knew it wasn’t Josh.
***
Josh didn’t worry when Hope left. He didn’t worry when she’d been gone fifteen minutes. Or thirty. After forty-five minutes, he started to get a little twitchy. And after an hour, he grabbed for his cell phone, hoping that she’d taken hers with her. But when he dialed her number, he could hear the phone ringing from her bedroom. He wandered through the house, trying not to appear troubled, until he found Connor sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop.
“Am I overreacting?” he asked Connor, after explaining the situation.
“Probably,” Connor said, closing his laptop lid. “But let’s go look for her anyway. You won’t give me any peace otherwise.”
They headed outside and climbed down the porch stairs. No sign of Hope, or anyone else. No sounds out of the ordinary. But something made Josh uneasy, even if he couldn’t identify it. Maybe it was something simple, like she’d fallen in the dark and sprained her ankle. Had she suddenly decided that she wanted to get away from him and return to her safe, normal life? But no, none of the cars were missing. And she wouldn’t do that to him. He knew that, as surely as he knew his own name and shape.
Connor said, “Any idea where she was going?”
Josh shook his head. “She just said she was taking a walk. I don’t think she would have gone far.”
“Let me see if I can find her scent.”
In the darkness, lit only by the moon, Connor’s coat looked black. He lifted his head and breathed in, turned slightly west and inhaled again. He neighed softly to catch Josh’s attention, and Josh shifted, flowing into the familiar form of his stallion. In this form, the urge to find his mate tugged at him even more strongly, more urgently.
They trotted westward, trying to find any signs that Hope had passed this way. If there had been snow on the ground, it would have been easy to track her progress. But in the dark, over grass and stone and hard-packed dirt, they saw no sign of any footprints. Her scent was growing stronger, though. Josh had to trust his stallion’s more acute sense of smell to lead them to her.
He and Connor searched for about fifteen minutes, Connor wandering a little more northerly while Josh kept walking due west.
“Josh!”
A hundred feet away, Connor had shifted and was beckoning him over to a grassy area. Josh rushed over to him and shifted as he arrived, almost falling when he carried the momentum through to his human form.
“Take a look,” Connor said, pointing to the ground. Still no footprints, but the grass was scuffed, and where it gave way to dirt, he saw two faint parallel lines. Lines that could result from someone being dragged, with their heels leaving marks in the dark. He followed them for several steps, and where the lines stopped, the tire tracks began. He cursed, quietly but fervently.
“What do you think happened?” Connor asked.
“The Armstrongs,” Josh spat out. “Who else could it be?”
“They won’t hurt her,” Connor reassured him. “They’re probably just trying to spook you.”
“Well, it worked. And I’m going to make them regret it.” He shook off Connor’s consoling hand and shifted to gallop back to the house, leaving Connor to follow. How dare they take his mate? They’d been harassing Josh and his family for months, but he never thought they’d go this far.
He stormed into the house calling for Rick, who rushed into the front room.
“What’s going on?” Rick asked, but when he saw Josh’s expression, he added, “What’s wrong?”
“The Armstrongs kidnapped Hope.”
“You’re shitting me.” More and more members of the family were coming into the room. Rick turned to Mark and said urgently, “Call the sheriff.”
“He won’t do anything.” Connor had caught up and followed Josh into the house.
“You must have found signs of a struggle.”
“He won’t believe us, and he’ll insist we need to wait twenty-four hours before worrying.”
“He’s right,” Josh agreed. “And I’m not waiting another minute.” Rick grabbed his arm, but Josh shook it off furiously.
“Hold on,” Rick urged. “Just think about this a little, and let us all come up with a plan.”
“Listen to him,” Connor said. “You can’t just go charging in there by yourself. Maybe it’s just the kids again, playing a stupid trick. But if they’re serious about this, they could have her under some kind of armed guard.”
Josh took a few deep breaths and tried to think over the pounding of his heart. “Right. Okay. First we need to figure out where she is.”
Allison stepped forward. “I’ll go. I’m small enough to be unobtrusive, and they won’t be able to see my coat in the darkness.”
“My coat’s almost as dark as yours,” Rick protested, but Allison cut him off.
“And I’m half your size. Do you want to waste time arguing about it, or do you want me to go?”
“Go,” Josh said. “Please.”
“She’ll be okay,” Allison reassured him. Then she was off, the door banging closed behind her.
While they waited for Allison, the rest of the family argued about who would go to rescue Hope, how many people they needed, whether they should wait for daylight, and most contentious of all, whether they should be armed. After a few abortive attempts, Josh stopped trying to participate in the conversation and let Rick organize everything. The situation required careful thought, and he was in no state to be careful or thoughtful. Instead, he sat on the couch, muscles tense, envisioning Harry Armstrong face-down in a pile of horse manure.
The two hours between Allison’s departure and her return felt like days, but eventually they heard her gallop up outside. Josh met her at the door.
“She’s fine.” Allison tossed her head of long black hair like she was still in horse form. “They’ve got her in one of the old barns in the north-east part of their ranch.”
“Is she tied up?”
Allison looked serious. “Yes. Harry is there. And knowing him, he’s got a gun.”
“How many people besides Harry?”
“Four of the grandkids, about Harry’s age or a little younger. I’m sure he’s the ‘mastermind’ behind this brilliant idea.”
Despite himself, Josh smiled at her sarcastic air quotes, and the knot in his chest loosened a bit. Hope was okay. And they would get her back.
Chapter Eight
Hope was cold, she was sore, and she was pissed. The barn she’d been brought to was hardly airtight, and the wind crept through the various cracks and holes. The people who’d grabbed her had marched her up to a wooden chair and forced her down on it, tying her at the wrists and ankles, though she thought the chair was so rickety she could break it with a vigorous sneeze. Then they’d left her there, with two people to watch over her, and after what felt like hours, terror was replaced by tedium.
She’d panicked when they’d grabbed her and pushed her into a van that smelled like motor oil. In the first few moments, her mind had tossed out ridiculous suggestions. Ransom! Misguided environmentalists! Satanic ritual!
But two things almost immediately became clear. First, this was no band of highly trained ki
dnappers. Second, she didn’t think any one of them could organize a refrigerator raid.
The three other captors eventually returned to the barn, and they’d had a conference consisting largely of furious whispers. The five of them probably ranged in age from fifteen to twenty-five, but she had a hard time not thinking of them as “kids,” based on the constant bickering they engaged in.
They’d only driven for twenty minutes or so before reaching the barn, so they couldn’t have gone far, and they spent the entire time arguing about where to take her and what to do with her. Eventually they’d settled on this barn, which she’d bet wasn’t anywhere on the Golden Horse. Were these the neighbors Josh said mentioned having trouble with?
Suddenly, a voice rose out of the group.
“Ask her!”
“Ask me what?”
At the sound of her voice, five heads whipped around, as if they’d forgotten she could hear them. One of the boys, somewhere around the middle of the pack in age, stalked over to stand in front of her, kicking up dust and dirt as he went.
“Are you one of them?” he demanded. “Those shifter freaks?”
Hope’s mind raced as she tried to decide the best answer. Judging by the hate in his voice, he had a serious problem with shifters. If they’d intended to kidnap one, it wouldn’t have been for any good reason.
“No,” she replied. “I was just...visiting.” Her answer set off another furious round of whispering from the other four kids.
She’d picked up the ringleader’s name from eavesdropping. If she ignored the angry look on his face, he looked like he could have been one of the Farris grandchildren. Long-sleeved shirt, worn jeans, boots, and an air of wildness around him. “You’re Harry, right?”
He pointed a grubby finger at her. “You don’t talk unless I ask you a question.”
“Look,” she said, ignoring his command, “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. Why don’t you untie me, and we’ll forget about this.”
“I said don’t talk.” He reached into his pocket and drew out something dark and metallic. Something that reflected the light. Though she recognized it immediately, it still took her brain a second to comprehend.
A gun. He’d drawn a gun and had it in his shaking hand. Pointing at her.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet.” Her instinct was to babble, keep talking until she’d figured her way out of this, but she clamped her lips shut and tried not to hyperventilate. He kept the gun trained on her until he was satisfied she would be quiet, then shoved it back in his pocket and returned to the group.
“Just let her go!” insisted the same voice that had spoken up before.
“Shut up, Lindy,” Harry snapped. “It’ll still work even if she’s not a shifter. She’s probably someone’s girlfriend or cousin.”
“This was a stupid plan,” one of the others muttered. “I wouldn’t have even come along if I hadn’t been drunk.”
“Tough shit,” Harry said. “You’re here now. Now someone has to figure out how to get a message to one of those shifters. Unless any of you want to go knock on the front door.”
No one answered. From what Hope could tell, Harry was the leader because he was the pushiest and most stubborn, not necessarily because he was the smartest.
“Hey, lady.” Harry stalked back over to her. She couldn’t help looking at the pocket where he’d stashed the gun. If she were someone else, maybe she’d be able to figure out how to get loose and get her hands on the gun. But her life definitely hadn’t prepared her for this kind of predicament. Arguing with the hotel’s front desk about unauthorized pay-per-view charges, yes. Armed kidnappers, no.
Keeping in mind his earlier admonition not to talk, she just met his eyes and waited for him to continue.
“You said you’ve been visiting them,” Harry said.
“Yes,” Hope replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
“But you’re not part of the family. So what are you? Someone’s girlfriend?”
“Something like that,” she agreed.
“What’s the best way to send them a message?”
Her mind raced through possibilities and discarded them. Josh would obviously notice when she didn’t return. How long would it take him to figure out what had happened? She knew that he would come for her, as surely as she knew her own name. And the others would help. If she was lucky, they’d arrive soon. All she had to do was stall for as much time as possible, while not antagonizing Harry.
She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she wasn’t lucky.
“Who do you want to talk to?” she asked. Maybe knowing that would help her determine the best strategy.
“Anyone! It doesn’t matter.”
“It has to matter,” she argued. “Is it Rick? Allison? Jennifer? Josh?”
“They’re all the same to me. Unnatural animals.” He turned his head and spat on the ground.
Hope took a deep breath. If she seemed calm, it might help Harry be calm too. “Maybe if you tell me what you want to say, I can help you figure out who you want to talk to.”
“It’s about the ranch.”
“The Golden Horse?”
“Yeah. It belongs to us.”
Hope struggled to comprehend. “Us? You...you mean your family?”
Harry’s face creased in anger and he charged closer, looming over her. “They stole it! They stole it, and we want it back.”
***
Josh had a hard time keeping his pace in check. He wanted to gallop as fast as he could to get to Hope, but they had to stay together. The ten-member herd behind him included Rick, Allison, Connor, and several of the largest shifters they had. The others had been left behind with strict instructions on when to call the sheriff and what to say.
He could see the barn in the distance, so he slowed down as a signal, and the herd came to a slow stop. Josh shifted to remind everyone of the plan.
“We approach as quietly as possible, to keep the element of surprise. Once we get within a hundred feet, Rick and I will increase to full speed and take the lead to break in the door that Allison told us about. When we’re inside, use your best judgment on whether to stay shifted or return to human. I doubt any of them will put up much of a fight, except for Harry. And he’s mine. Got it?”
Quiet snorts and head bobs answered him, and Rick sidled into him, throwing him briefly off balance. Knowing Rick, that meant Stop talking and start doing.
Horses weren’t really suited to sneaking around, but Josh did the best he could, placing his hooves carefully and trying to avoid hard ground where their footsteps would ring out. The half-full moon provided more light than Josh would have wanted, since some of the brighter coats like his were more visible. But this wasn’t a highly organized group they were dealing with, just a bunch of kids too dumb to set a guard. Even so, he wouldn’t relax until they’d taken the gun away from Harry Armstrong and he held Hope safe in his arms.
They reached the hundred-foot mark, and Josh paused for a second, fixing Allison’s description in his mind. A double door on the east side of the barn with rotted planks and rusty hinges. Hope, tied to a chair towards the middle, near an old tractor. He crooked his head around to make sure that everyone was ready to go, and then he charged.
He could hear Rick’s hoofbeats slightly behind him, but he focused on the barn as it grew larger in his vision. After a few seconds, he could see the door, with light leaking through the cracks. He thought he could smell the cheap cigarettes that Harry smoked, the scent growing stronger as they neared the barn. And then, in a flash, they were there.
Almost in unison, he and Rick slid to a stop in front of the door, pivoted on their hind legs, and unleashed devastating kicks. The rotten wood disintegrated as if a bomb had gone off, and the people inside let out terrified yells. Whirling around, Josh charged through the opening, ignoring the slight scrape of the wood splinters hanging from the hinges. He immediately looked for Hope, and to his horror, Harry stood right next to
her chair, close enough that Josh couldn’t charge him without also knocking Hope over.
But maybe Harry didn’t realize that. With a furious scream that sounded like a bugle call, he began running towards Harry, who froze in panic. Josh had counted on him turning and running, putting some distance between him and Hope so that Josh could charge straight into him. Fortunately, he had a Plan B. Shifting in mid-stride, he carried his momentum through into his human form and tackled Harry with all the force of a thousand-pound stallion.
Harry went down under him as if he’d been clubbed with a two-by-four, and Josh landed with the point of his elbow in Harry’s solar plexus. While Harry wheezed and gasped for air, Josh looked around for Hope. Very sensibly, she’d thrown herself to the side, away from the two of them. The chair had broken apart when she hit the ground, and she was struggling to free herself from the wreckage.
“Gun!” she shouted at him. “In his right jacket pocket!”
Josh patted at Harry’s jacket and felt the rigid shape of the gun. He fumbled with it, and after a few tries, pulled it out of the pocket. Of course, now that he had it, what was he supposed to do with it? It was much smaller than the rifle he was used to, almost comically small. Harry hadn’t flicked off the safety, but it still would have hurt or even killed Hope if something had gone wrong. He tucked it into the back of his waistband, making sure to keep his elbow firmly planted in Harry’s stomach.
The noise behind him had died down, and a quick look showed him that the other four Armstrongs were under control. Most people had shifted back to human, but a few of his larger aunts and uncles had remained in horse form, presumably to intimidate the kids. And it seemed to be working well. He looked for Rick and spotted him near the door, pulling up Allison, who must have fallen at some point.
“Rick! Come over here and keep hold of this idiot.”
