by RJ Blain
“What does she need to see?” I grumbled.
Snorting, Lisa pointed at the target. “I want to watch them when you snarl like a crazy lunatic while you play with that toy.”
Amber made her appearance with Nicolina following close behind, took one look at the Glock in my hand, and crossed her arms over her chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
Snatching the target off the wall, Lisa held it out in front of Amber.
“Taunting her with your shooting?” the witch asked, her tone so mild I suspected she was seething.
“Four magazines, Sara.”
I adjusted my mufflers, and eager to vent more steam, I loaded the Glock and opened fire. As soon as I finished, Lisa brought the target in, tacked it to the wall, and said, “Count them, Amber.”
With an arched brow, Amber regarded the shredded paper. “It’s a little difficult to count holes in a piece of confetti, Lisa.”
“The Beretta, Sara,” Lisa ordered while sending out a fresh target.
Puzzled, I switched guns, refilling a magazine so I could take a round with the semi-automatic.
I missed the target completely. Wailing my dismay, I once again slumped over the sill. “It’s not fair.”
Snickering, Lisa patted my shoulder. “Try the Glock again.”
Sighing, I obeyed, unloading an entire magazine. When Lisa brought the target back and asked Amber to count, the witch obeyed.
“Thirty-three,” Amber reported, her eyes wide. “Are you seriously telling me she qualifies on a bloody Glock 18 but can’t handle a fucking Beretta? How is that even possible?”
“Nicolina, go grab some assault rifles—ones with some big kick to them. Let’s put a theory to the test,” Lisa said, grinning at me. “Maybe the Beretta is just too soft in her hands. Perhaps the harder kick forces her to focus.”
“That does not explain how she hit the target every time,” Amber muttered.
“I like the Glock.”
“Of course you like the Glock, Sara. It’s a badass gun. It’s so badass you have to have a special license to own one,” Amber replied, sighing. “How the hell did you qualify on the bloody Glock and not a Beretta? Do you know how much paperwork is involved with authorizing someone for a Glock 18? Why can’t you do things normally?”
Throwing up her hands, Amber yowled a wordless complaint and stalked after Nicolina, leaving Lisa howling with laughter.
My lack of sleep and constant state of frustration conspired against me. The last thing I remembered was checking over the Glock so I could put it away. A moment later, I was tucked in bed, and a sighing Amber was waving something putrid under my nose.
I meant to bat her hand away, but in my exhaustion, all I managed was a feeble twitch of my arm and a zombie-like groan. “Stop that,” I protested.
“Rise and shine,” Amber murmured, relaxing. Smiling at me, she pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. “You decided it was nap time on the range before you could fire all of the cool toys. You can thank Lisa later. She caught you before you cracked your head open on the floor.”
I coerced my body into rolling over. While I wanted to throw the blanket over my head, I decided it was too much effort. “Ugh.”
“We’re hitting the road in two hours. I thought you’d like a chance to take a bath and soak and get something to eat. You’ve been out for about six hours. You needed the rest. I have some paperwork for you to sign before we leave.”
“You’re supposed to be a witch, not a bitch,” I complained. It took far too much effort to free myself from the blanket. The thought of trying to sit up made me ache, but Amber had no mercy and grabbed hold of my elbow to haul me upright.
“If you’re hoping for an apology, you’re not getting one. You will, however, be getting a toy of your very own, a set of special magazines for it, and an ammunition box.”
“You’re actually giving me a gun? Are you crazy?”
“You qualified on the Glock 18, so that’s what you’re getting. Instead of the thirty-three round magazines, you’ll be running with twelve rounds. A few Inquisitors like that Glock when they need a lot of firepower, but the large, standard magazine makes them a bitch to conceal. So, you’ll be getting a few of the custom magazines we’ve had made for them. Fortunately, they had a pair of them in the armory, so I stole them.”
“You’re crazy. What if I qualified by a fluke?”
“Sara, you dumped at least seven magazines into those targets and hit your mark every time. That’s not a fluke. You didn’t flinch, you didn’t close your eyes, and you hit your target. Of course, once this is over, you’re going to go through an extensive amount of gun handling lessons until you can work with something other than a bloody Glock 18. Your gun is an insurance policy. In the ideal scenario, you won’t even remove it from its holster.”
“Wonderful.”
“Let me make one thing clear: the only purpose that gun has is to kill people. Maybe it’s fun to destroy targets with it, but it’s not a toy. I really should skin Lisa alive for letting you play with it. When you take it to the range, each and every time you load in a magazine, think long and hard about why that weapon exists—and if you’re serious about using it on someone. You tell me. Are you qualified to pull the trigger and take someone’s life?”
“There’s no difference between ripping out someone’s throat with my teeth, breaking their neck with my feet, or killing them with a bullet,” I whispered. “Dead is dead. All the gun does is make it so I don’t have to wring my father’s neck with my hands. There’s no difference. One way or another, he dies for what he’s done.”
Sanders was mine, and I’d destroy my father for trying to destroy us.
“That’s why I qualified you. When there’s a will, there’s a way. At least this way I can go to sleep knowing you will treat that gun like the lethal weapon it is.”
I dozed the entire way from Cassiar to Anchorage. While I had a vague memory of Amber attempting to prod me awake for the border crossing, I couldn’t remember actually reentering the United States. My most coherent moments involved food, and my wolf was more than pleased to handle the work of eating while I observed as a passenger in my own body.
Amber pulled the truck into a snow-strewn parking lot beside a private airfield an hour outside of the city. “Okay. This airfield is owned by the Inquisition. If we want a quiet place to take someone out, this is it. It’s your turn, Sara. Get the bastard here so we can deal with him.”
Stifling a yawn, I pulled out my phone and handed it to Amber. “You dial. I’ll talk.”
She stared at me with her mouth hanging open.
“Sara is technologically incompetent,” Wendy explained.
“I am merely saving time by not having to figure out how to dial.”
Shaking her head, Amber dialed my father’s number, pressed the green icon to connect the call, and handed the phone back to me.
“What is it?” my father answered in a growl.
“I need to talk to you,” I replied, and my voice wavered as I fought the urge to yawn.
“Sara.” The way he breathed my name sent shivers running through me. “Where are you?”
Maybe some girls were good at manipulating their fathers, but mine only responded to one thing: tears. It wasn’t hard to sound weepy when I wanted to go back to sleep. “I think I’m in Alaska. It’s cold,” I whined, as I proceeded to describe the airfield and my vague recollections of the nearby city, hoping I gave him enough details to piece together my location.
“How did you get there?” he demanded.
“I dunno,” I mumbled. “I was asleep.”
“You were asleep.”
“They took me to Canada, and then I feel asleep, and when I woke up, I was in Alaska. Anchorage, I think,” I blurted in a rush. “They left me here. I… I found this phone in one of the parked trucks. It looks like some abandoned airfield or something.”
Amber covered her mouth with her hands so she wouldn’t laugh. Glar
ing at her, I made a slicing gesture across my throat and pointed at her.
“I’m coming.” He hung up.
I regarded the phone with a wrinkled nose, confirmed he had hung up, and shrugged. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.”
Laughing, Wendy reached up and patted my shoulder. “Just as I expected. Male Fenerec, daughter in distress. They immediately stop thinking about anything other than solving the problem right that instant. You should see Charles when one of our puppies gets herself into trouble.”
“He’s just as bad when Richard gets himself into trouble,” Nicolina complained. “He likes our mates more than he likes us.”
“Nonsense, dear. He loves all four of you. He simply has a skewed sense of humor and adores fighting with you girls almost as much as he enjoys baiting your mates.” Wendy grinned. “You have a really good weepy voice, Sara. You kicked on every single one of my protective instincts even though I knew you were playing him.”
“You woke me up. Am I supposed to sound happy?” I grabbed my mate’s blanket, wrapped up in it, and breathed in his scent.
Amber pulled out her phone and made a thoughtful noise. “Let’s get to business, ladies. If Sanders and the others lured him to Seattle, he could be here in less than four hours. If he’s in New York, it’ll take him ten hours unless he charters a flight—and even then, he won’t shave off much time. Call it eight including a refueling stop unless he has a long-distance jet. I wouldn’t put it past him—still, he won’t get here faster than the non-stop Seattle to Anchorage flights. So, let’s plan on three hours.”
“What’s our plan?” Nicolina asked.
“First, let’s get a look around the airfield and pick a good spot. Who knows if he’ll head to the main airport or try his luck coming straight here. Either way, we need to hide Sanders’s truck. Washington plates would reveal our trap. Nicolina, you get to disable the security systems for the hangar. Try to blow it in a way that’s easily fixed, please—don’t make us liable for a fortune in repair costs.”
“On it,” she said, and grinning like a maniac, she opened the door and slid out of the back, heading for the nearest building.
“Lisa, you find the best ambush points. Treat him like the dangerous criminal he is. If Sara doesn’t beat you to him, take him down.”
“Excellent.”
“What about me?” Wendy demanded.
“Look pretty.”
“Amber.”
“Relax, Wendy. You’ll be sticking with Sara. You two can compete to see who gets the highest number of bullets lodged in his skull. Nicolina, Lisa, and I will have the silver bullets, so you two will have to do more damage than he can recover from. Come on, Sara. Get untangled from your blanket, and let’s do a walk around. You can help me find a place to hide the truck.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
In all of our scheming, none of us had even considered the possibility my father would capture Sanders—or that Richard would willingly fly a plane for our enemy. With inhuman strength, my father hauled my unconscious mate out of the single prop and dumped him onto the tarmac with a grunt.
Richard’s expression was neutral, and his eyes were dull and glazed.
The stench of Nicolina’s rage hung think in the air. “Wolfsbane,” she hissed in my ear.
“Keep your Glock hidden under your coat, Sara,” Amber whispered. “Wendy, stay with me—and Nicolina, hold your temper. If Richard’s under his control, things could get ugly really, really fast, especially if you lose your shit now.”
“I know,” Richard’s mate replied, and she drew a deep breath. “Sara, if your father told Richard to obey only him, the only way to free Richard of that command is to kill your father—and give the same order to Richard once he’s dead. He’s so damned weak to wolfsbane it’s ridiculous.”
“Be careful,” Wendy said, pulling out her brand-new Beretta. “Richard’s pretty docile under wolfsbane, but if he’s agitated, he could run wild—if he does, he’ll burn it off a lot faster, but he might take all of us out with him when he goes.”
Despite the strength of Nicolina’s anger, I could smell fear, and a lot of it.
Lifting my chin, I nodded and eased out of the hangar we had chosen as our base of operations. “Father?” I asked, and my fear and worry for my mate came out in my voice.
He jerked, spinning to face me. “Sara.”
“Why do you have my mate? Sanders…what’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with my mate?” I wrung my hands together and shivered as the frigid chill of the Alaskan wind cut through my jacket.
“They took you from me, so I decided to take from them. They’re presents for you, baby girl. Both of them. Aren’t they pretty?”
There was a gleam in my father’s eyes, and when I took a startled breath, I could smell a bitter, sour scent in the air. My wolf recoiled, recognizing it as sickness. I swallowed, and at my wolf’s begged plea, I considered both men.
“I like them,” I murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. “Mine?”
“All yours,” he crooned. “Daddy’s missed his baby girl. So much like your mother. You grew up so pretty—and such a lovely wolf. Come here.”
With my gaze locked on my mate, I hesitantly stepped forward. Sanders wasn’t moving, and I whined as I drew closer.
My father’s smile widened. “Come. That’s a good girl. See? He’s alive. I had to drug him to keep him calm so I wouldn’t have to hurt him. Take a look at your other male. He seemed like a good choice for you. He’ll serve as a good companion for your mate—and for you.”
While Richard stared at me, his eyes remained dull and devoid of emotion and life.
“What’s his name?” I asked, my voice trembling as I met Richard’s gaze, searching for the clever, interesting man I liked. It was as if all of his vibrancy had been snuffed out, leaving him nothing more than a puppet.
“His name is Richard,” my father replied. “Go ahead. Look him over. If there’s anything wrong with him, I’ll get rid of him and find a better male to keep you and your mate company.”
I shifted my gaze to my mate. “He’ll get cold. I don’t want him to get cold, Daddy.”
It sickened me to call my father something so pleasant when I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around his throat. With Richard so close, I didn’t dare.
If Richard had been ordered to protect my father, he’d rip me apart. Richard was faster than me—and far, far more experienced. I approached Richard, shivering from more than the cold. Breathing in deep, I was relieved that none of my father’s sickness marred Richard’s scent—yet.
Without the force of his personality driving him, Richard seemed so much smaller than I remembered; I was taller than him, something I hadn’t really noticed before.
“Your mate won’t be too cold. He’s tough. I’ll bring him inside soon,” my father soothed. “Go on. Touch Richard. Use him as you want. Look him over. Does he please you? Richard, she’s yours to share with her mate, so make certain you keep her warm and happy. Make her feel good and content.”
Richard moved with lithe grace, slipping his hands around my waist. With a gentle touch, he worked his way under my coat, pulling me close to him. His breath warmed my neck. I trembled, and while my wolf was repulsed at another male touching me, I restrained her.
If my father thought I didn’t want Richard, I didn’t know what he’d do. While reluctant, my wolf agreed with my reasoning despite her urge to drive Richard away with our teeth and snarls.
Richard slid his hands along my sides, shoving my shirt up beneath my coat. Pressing his lips to my throat, he scraped me with his teeth, voicing a growl. One of his arms circled around me, holding me close to him.
His other hand crept ever upwards, teasing my skin with gentle brushes of his fingertips. When he found my holster, his growls intensified.
He bit me so hard my entire body went limp. He held me close to him, kneeling without letting me go. While his one hand remained under my shirt, he s
lipped the other away, and his bite made my every nerve more sensitive. I gasped at the way his fingers skimmed over my skin.
My father watched, and while I couldn’t see him, I could smell his satisfaction and pleasure.
“That’s right, Richard. Play with her. Make her yours. You want her, don’t you?”
Richard nipped me again, drawing a strangled cry out of me. “Mine,” he growled, his chest rumbling.
“You like that, don’t you, Sara? You like having males around to please you. That's why you ran away, isn't it? I denied you what you really wanted. You knew it’d be easy to find males willing to worship you in Vegas. I won't make that mistake again. Whoever you want pleasing you, you will have. These two are only the beginning.”
The only male I wanted pleasing me was Sanders. However, I wasn’t immune to the way Richard bit me. Pleasant shivers ran through me, warm and soothing rather than arousing, although my wolf feared if he kept teasing me with his mouth, I’d cross that line soon enough.
“That’s right, Richard. Enjoy her and make her happy.”
The only thing that would make me happy would be grabbing my gun and shooting my father in the face. I couldn’t even snarl my fury. Each time I took a breath to make a sound, Richard nibbled on me, coaxing another gasp out of me.
His seeking hand once again found my holster. Working his mouth to mine, he teased me with a kiss.
“Good,” my father murmured. “Please her.”
Richard broke our kiss, forcing my head to the side so he could nip the other side of my throat.
My mouth ended up near Richard’s ear. Drawing a shaky breath, I whispered, “Kill him. It’ll please me.”
Once again, his mouth sought mine, applying a faint pressure to my lips.
The blast of gunfire deafened me.
Richard kept a vice-like grip on me; the vibrating rumbles of his chest against mine warned me he was growling with his every breath. The scent of blood filled my nose, so strong my wolf’s hunger roused. I pulled away from Richard, and he sank his teeth into my neck in retaliation, biting down hard. Agony washed through me, and I slumped against him. Tears blurred my vision.
