He kept that information to himself, not wanting the others to suspect how invested he’d become in finding Chrissten.
He picked up another chair, turned it upside down and set it on the round table. Everyone was busy doing the necessary nightly chores to shut down the place. The club had been hopping tonight. The jazz band was well known in the city and Haven had been filled to capacity. But now it was quiet, the music nothing more than an echo. The patrons were all gone. Only members of their pack remained.
“He should be here soon.”
Hank grabbed another chair before turning his attention to Quinn, who’d come up alongside him. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be too long.” The other male practically vibrated with barely suppressed energy. He was anxious and Hank couldn’t blame him. Quinn looked better than he had since he’d known him though, his eyes not quite so haunted as they had been, his features not as drawn. Obviously mating with Bethany had helped drive out some of the demons he’d had inside him. Hank wished them well.
Isaiah raised his head and sniffed the air. “He’s coming.” Isaiah scowled at the main door as it swung open slowly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Michael and Benjamin stepped out from behind the bar to stand beside Meredith. Hank knew the action was instinctive and that both men would protect their mother with their lives.
Hank lowered the chair he was holding and moved to stand in the shadows by the wall. He didn’t like having his back exposed when there was a potential enemy around. His eyes narrowed as he studied Damek. The vampire looked the same as he always did, tailor-made black suit, crisp linen shirt and silk tie. Dapper bastard must have a closet full of those expensive suits he seemed to favor.
A movement off to his left caught Hank’s attention. Teague had situated himself and his mate, Neema, just outside the kitchen door. Kevin was standing in the entrance of the hall that led to the office.
He turned his attention back to Damek and Isaiah as they exchanged terse greetings.
“Do you have any news?” It was Craig who stepped up to ask. He might be human, but he didn’t seem to be afraid of any of them, werewolf and vampire alike. Hank had a great deal of respect for the younger man.
Damek nodded slowly. “Yes, my friend, I do.” For some reason known only to Damek, he’d taken a liking to Craig. Personally, Hank figured it was because he viewed humans as a food source. After all, vampires needed blood in order to survive.
The vampire slowly turned his head until he was staring directly at Hank through the shadows. Hank kept his arms loose by his sides and his expression impassive. In his mind he pictured a steel vault door and slammed it shut. He didn’t want the vampire poking around his head.
Damek raised an eyebrow and slightly inclined his head in acknowledgement. No one knew how powerful the bastard was, but Hank had seen him take control of a pureblood werewolf’s mind like it was nothing. Hank wasn’t under any illusions that the vampire couldn’t break down his defenses given time. But he wanted the creature set on notice that he wouldn’t make it easy for him, would fight if necessary.
“What did you find out?” Quinn stepped up with Bethany right beside him. She rested her hand on his arm and Hank had the feeling that light touch was the only thing restraining Quinn. They were all on edge after missing rescuing Chrissten less than a week before.
“I have a possible location.” Damek’s declaration had Hank moving away from his post by the wall. His heart was pounding with anticipation.
“Where?” Isaiah stepped in front of Damek, making the vampire frown.
Instead of telling them, he glanced out the window. “Dawn is getting closer. I suggest we hurry.”
Quinn swore and lunged, but Isaiah blocked him with his big body. “Get a grip on yourself, Quinn. We need Damek’s help.”
Quinn tensed but nodded, and they all trooped out to the vehicles waiting in the alleyway behind the building. Hank thought about his sniper rifle tucked away upstairs in the back of his closet, but dismissed it. This fight wouldn’t be about conventional weapons. If it came down to a fight it would be all about brute strength and cunning.
Isaiah, Meredith, Quinn, Bethany and Craig all went in the SUV. Michael, Benjamin, Kevin, Teague, Neema, himself and Damek all piled into the van. The silence was deafening as they drove through the lonely city streets with Damek barking the occasional direction.
As Hank expected, they were heading to a derelict and dangerous section of the city. Not surprising in the least. The people who lived here didn’t ask questions and minded their own business. Drug dealers, the sound of gunshots and the cries of despair were a part of their daily life. If they noticed some shady looking men going in and out of an abandoned building, no one would think to call the cops. They didn’t want to bring trouble down on themselves and many of them had things they wanted to hide from the authorities.
Hank forced himself to relax, but it wasn’t easy. Every muscle in his body was primed and ready to explode into action. His heart rate settled into a heavy, steady rhythm and his breathing was even. It was the same way before he went into any battle. His body knew what it had to do and did it, turning him into the perfect fighting machine.
A bead of sweat formed on his temple but he ignored it. This wasn’t Iraq. This was Chicago. He refused to allow nightmares from the past to intrude on the present. A woman was depending on him.
Chrissten. He could easily picture her face. Craig had shown him several photos and the images were ingrained in his brain—her long blond hair, pale blue eyes and slender, athletic body. But it was her smile that had captivated him, full of mischief and life. He took a deep breath and swore he could smell her, the light fragrance that never failed to remind him of a summer’s day.
He felt someone watching him and slowly raised his head. The vampire was staring at him with black, soulless eyes. Hank ignored Damek as best he could, focusing on the fight ahead.
“Turn right at the lights,” Damek instructed, and Michael turned the van down the road with the SUV following close behind them.
Hank started to take note of the people on the street. Even at this time of night there was plenty of activity. A man with baggy pants and a flashy leather jacket sold drugs on the corner to a trio of young men. On the opposite side of the road two women in skirts so short they were probably illegal in some states plied their trade. By a crumbling stoop, a drunk curled up with the remains of his bottle.
“Pull over here.” Damek had the door open and was out before Michael had brought the vehicle to a complete halt. He turned back and pinned Teague and Kevin with his dark gaze as they stepped out of the van. “You two stay with the vehicles. We can’t afford to lose our transportation.” His gaze seemed to soften as he looked at Neema. “You better stay with them to keep them out of trouble.”
Hank climbed out and looked around, studying the terrain and the locals. Three tough looking dudes with tattoos and piercings on their faces started in their direction. Before Hank could do more than growl at them, Damek waved his hand and the men suddenly turned and went back the way they came.
“Weak-minded idiots,” Damek grumbled under his breath.
Hank suddenly had a new respect for the vampire. His power seemed limitless. He was damn glad Damek was on their side in this fight.
The vampire suddenly whirled around. “Women are to be protected, wolf.” He disappeared in a blur only to reappear twenty feet down the road. “Are you coming?”
While he’d been watching Damek, the rest of the pack had emptied out of both vehicles. All were ready to fight. Hank didn’t think Quinn could take another disappointment. He didn’t think he could either.
Damek pointed at a dilapidated three-story building. It had probably been a single-family dwelling at one time. Over the years it had been remodeled into apartments. Now it stood empty and boarded up.
Hank loped toward the side of the building and hurried around to the back. The rest of them could take the front. He wasn’t waiting. His heart star
ted pumping faster when he saw a garage out back with a shiny new lock on it. He took a few precious seconds to glance inside the tiny window in the door. With his preternatural sight he could see a white van just like the one that had fled from the scene the last time they’d hunted for Chrissten.
This was it. Hank could feel it in his gut.
He raced to the house, senses flaring open. He forced himself to slow down and use stealth. No need to alert the bad guys to his presence. He ignored the secured back door and jimmied a basement window instead. The lock was old and rusty and gave easily under the steady pressure he put on it. He raised the glass slowly and listened.
All was quiet.
He grabbed the upper sill and slid his body through the small opening, landing sure-footed on the gravel floor. This part of the basement wasn’t finished and the musty stench of mildew and mold assailed his nostrils. He ignored the pungent odor and took a deep breath. The smell of garbage, urine and sweat seeped upward from the ground and outward from the wooden structure.
He heard a squeak in the floorboard above him and knew the others were swiftly moving in. If there was a rogue werewolf in the building he would have heard the noise by now. Unless he was otherwise occupied.
Hank’s lips pulled back from his teeth and a low snarl was torn from his throat. He was on the hunt. His body settled into battle mode, ready for anything. He reached out to his wolf, using every advantage at his disposal, heightening his senses.
He knew he was alone but still moved carefully over the hard-packed ground toward a doorway. He slowly turned the handle and eased the door open, cringing when it made a slight popping sound. Years of damp had warped the wood, making it stick to the frame.
A tiny sound caught his attention. A whimper. His head whipped around to the left and he noticed a door with two locks on it. Chrissten. It had to be her. The beat of his heart went from steady to a gallop in under a second as adrenaline surged through his veins.
Before he could take a step toward the locked door a large male appeared at the far end of the hallway. He was a big fucker with broad shoulders and long brown hair. His scent reached Hank, igniting a molten fury inside him. It was a scent he knew well from Chrissten’s blanket, the one he’d taken from her last prison cell. Brian. The male who’d violated Chrissten.
Hank didn’t think, didn’t pause. He attacked.
But this was no human he was fighting. This was a pureblooded werewolf, and he was more than ready to fight. Hank knew the other male wanted it. Craved it as much as Hank did.
They ran at one another, fangs bared, hands tipped in claws as they both partially shifted into their wolf form.
Hank went in low and swiped at Brian’s belly, but Brian turned at the last second and lashed out, catching Hank in the shoulder and raking away shirt and skin. The scent of blood, rich and coppery, mingled with the other pungent smells in the hallway. Hank could feel the warm liquid trickling down his arm.
He shook off the minor injury. Nothing else mattered but rescuing Chrissten. Not even his own life.
Hank allowed instinct to take over. He’d been a fighter all his life, long before he’d discovered his heritage. The other male might be a pureblood, but Hank fought mean and dirty, with no holds barred. He fought to win.
He lashed out at Brian with claw-tipped hands. The other male jumped back, hitting the wall so hard it caused little flecks of dust to rain down upon them like fine snow. Hank blinked to clear his vision. He needed to get Brian away from the door with the locks, away from Chrissten.
Hank roared his anger. No need to be quiet now. The others would have heard the beginnings of their fight. In the distance, Hank could hear the pounding of feet as the others hurried to join him.
Brian heard them coming too. He snarled, exposing brutally sharp fangs. “This isn’t over.” Warning given, Brian turned and ran. Hank started to give chase but a faint female voice stopped him.
“Is anyone there? Oh God, is there someone out there?”
Everything inside him came to a standstill. Something deep within Hank’s soul shifted and realigned before locking into place. Chrissten.
“Get away from there.” The male voice had him whirling around and instinct had him ducking. Something swooshed by his head and embedded itself into the wall behind him. A bullet. No, a tranquilizer dart. Hank’s nostrils flared at the sight of the man who had to be Dr. Phillip Morton.
He prowled toward the doctor, determined to make him pay for what he’d done. The doctor raised the tranq gun again. Before he could fire it, Damek appeared in front of him, grabbing the weapon from the human’s hands.
“Who do we have here?” The vampire’s expression was so feral that Hank almost felt sorry for the doctor. Almost. Damek shoved the doctor back into the room he’d stepped out of. The door slammed shut behind them.
Quinn barreled down the hallway, shoved Hank aside and hurried to the locked room. Claws extended, he attacked the two locks. Hank hurried to help him and quickly realized they’d probably need a crowbar to get past the locks. Within a split second his brain had sorted through his options. “Pull on the door.” He grabbed the handle and yanked on it, using the full force of his big body.
Quinn continued to beat at the locks, but in the end it was the wooden door that gave first under the strain. Hank fell back as the door flew toward him, scraping against the concrete floor as it was pulled back.
Quinn pushed past him and called his sister’s name. “Chrissten?” The raw emotion in his voice brought tears to Hank’s eyes. He blinked several times and stepped back, angling his body so he could see into the room.
He didn’t see her at first. There was nothing here except a bundle of rags on the floor in the far corner. He took a second look. The rags were moving.
Quinn arrowed in on the mound and went straight to it. “Chrissten?” His voice was soft, almost fearful.
The bundle moved slightly. Quinn swooped in and scooped her into his arms, burying his face against her. He stood slowly, took a deep breath and strode out of the room and into the hallway.
As he passed by, Hank strained to get a better look. He wanted to reach out and touch a lock of dirty blond hair that had escaped the bundle. It was Chrissten.
Hank could hear her labored breathing. One of her arms slipped from beneath the blanket covering her. It was mottled with dirt and bruises.
He wanted to howl and roar and kill. A red haze filled his vision and he growled low in his chest. His fingers itched to touch her. His arms ached to hold her. He wanted to be the one carrying Chrissten out of her prison. He swallowed back his fury, vowing to track down Brian and kill him like the rabid dog he was. That was something he could do. Hank would set Chrissten free of that monster if it was the last thing he did.
He followed closely behind as Quinn carried his sister up the stairs and out of the building. The others were quiet, except for Bethany, who was crying softly. No one said anything about Damek not being with them on the trip back. They trusted him to get whatever information he could and handle the doctor in whatever fashion he saw fit.
Quinn loaded himself and his sister into the SUV. It took all Hank’s restraint not to push his way into the vehicle. He wanted, no needed, to be next to her, to assure himself she was all right.
He’d have to wait. Right now all that mattered was her safety. Plus, he didn’t think Quinn would be very understanding if he ripped his sister from his arms. Hank kept his eye on the SUV as it sped through the last of the night. Dawn was almost breaking by the time they reached Haven.
Chrissten heard a voice calling her name. She frowned, recognizing the voice. The floor wasn’t as hard as it usually was. No, that wasn’t right.
Everything was a muddle. She’d thought she’d heard someone outside her cell. Someone she knew. Someone she recognized. His scent. That was it. She’d recognized his dark, musky scent and had called out to him.
But he hadn’t answered.
A tear leaked out of the
corner of her eye and trailed down her face.
“Don’t cry, baby, I’ve got you.”
Chrissten blinked. She was hallucinating again. Had to be. She hadn’t heard her twin in so long. He sounded different. Older. Tired. She turned her head slightly and there he was. But it wasn’t exactly like Quinn. His hair was longer too. That wasn’t right.
“Your hair is long.”
She heard a laugh that sounded more like a sob and turned her head to see who was laughing at her. The man looked like an older version of her younger brother. It was Craig, but not the Craig she remembered.
“You’re old.” That’s not what she meant to say. She meant to say older, but it took a lot of energy for her to speak.
“I feel old,” he told her. He placed his hand on her forehead, leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We’ve got you, sis. You’re going to be fine.”
“Craig?” It really was her brother with his wire-rimmed glasses, sandy brown hair and tender smile.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Quinn?” Where was her twin?
“Right here, Chris. I’m right here.” He was the only one who called her Chris, insisting that he’d wanted a twin brother not a sister. Not that she believed that for one second. They’d always been incredibly close.
It was his arms cradling her. It was his lap she was sitting on. Not the cold floor. Not her prison cell. She was free.
“Is this real?” She was almost afraid to believe it. Wasn’t sure it wasn’t all just a dream or a hallucination brought on by her failing body.
“It’s real.” She recognized the voice and the face that belonged to it. Bethany Morris leaned over her, a smile on her face. “I told you I’d come back for you.”
Chrissten could sense they were moving. They must be in a vehicle. There were other people here too. Two more. She could smell them, a male and a female, and they were werewolves.
She started to panic. Were her brothers and Bethany in danger? She thrashed around, trying to sit up so she could see. She had to protect her family.
Finding Chrissten l(-5 Page 2
