by KH LeMoyne
His worry eased as the blinking hazard lights from the soccer mom’s SUV appeared before him.
Twenty minutes later, he pressed the ear set of his cell phone again, his hand tightening on the steering wheel of his pickup.
Nothing. No reception. Damn, something had felt off ever since the first flake of snow started. Granted, with Sam safe beside him and Mrs. Rasmund’s vehicle sporting a functional spare tire, he shouldn’t feel this way. But his instincts screamed danger.
He wished he could blame his reaction on the snow. Punching the button on the headset again, he decided the ineffective cell towers deserved his ire instead.
“Dad? Why aren’t they answering?” Sam leaned forward, gripping the dashboard.
Nothing got past his son, but for the first time, he lied to him. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Weather messes up phone reception.” Sam’s tightly pursed lips said he didn’t believe him. Nothing Chisholm could do about that. Part of keeping everyone strong meant maintaining a brave front. Sam didn’t need to know Chisholm had called Maggie four times earlier—with no success. Calls to Dani fell into the same dead air. Eight-year-olds needed calm support, not a worried parent.
Heart clenched in a sharp twist, he remembered his instincts raging when the mob came for his kids after Mamie’s murder.
He pulled into his driveway, parked beside a new SUV, and rolled down his window. Trim stood by the open driver’s door, punching her cell phone, while the engine ran and lights spilled from inside the cab.
“We’ve already checked, Chisholm. They’re gone.” Trim tossed her phone in the vehicle and glanced his way before climbing into the SUV’s driver seat.
Chisholm inhaled deeply, cataloging scents and methodically checking the perimeter as he held a hand to Sam’s chest to stop him from leaving the vehicle. Snow messed with his sniffer, but Maggie’s, Cabot’s, and Charlie’s scents still lingered in the driveway—and Dani’s.
Sam remained quiet, but his heart rate increased to hummingbird speed. With a hand still in the air, Chisholm slipped from his vehicle and activated the lock behind him, leaving Sam in the truck. He was halfway to the back door when Wharton jogged around the side of the house and motioned him back.
“Get in our vehicle.” Wharton shoved Chisholm. “We don’t have time to waste. I’ll explain as we go.”
At first determined to have answers and make his own decisions, he reconsidered as he watched Trim convince Sam to leave his truck and climb into the SUV.
“Back door is broken. The one to the basement as well,” shouted Wharton as he urged Chisholm to move faster. “Our best shot is to find them before their trail is lost feet-deep in snow.”
“Wolves can handle snow,” growled Chisholm, sliding along the backseat and pressing Sam tightly to his side.
The car was already rolling as Wharton jumped in and slammed his door. “It’s not the snow I’m worried about.” He glanced between the front bucket seats at them. “Buckle up, kid.”
“We have another edge, maybe,” added Trim as she spun backward out of his driveway, then whipped the vehicle into a quarter turn and raced down the street at breakneck speed. Chisholm gripped the armrest. “Your little cop is following them. We could scent her outside when we got here. It wasn’t in the house. She seems tough. She’ll buy us some time.”
Chisholm bit back a curse. He offered what he hoped was a reassuring nod to Sam but received a wide-eyed, pale expression and a look that flicked between him and Deacon’s team. A bad situation in everyone’s estimation.
“They’ll be safe, Dad? ’Cause Dani’s a cop and she has a gun, right?” Sam asked.
He clasped Sam’s hand and squeezed. He’d raised his children with truth. And despite this situation, creating fantasy wasn’t going to keep anyone safe. Silence seemed the best answer.
“Deacon signaled us he’s about five minutes farther out and we should head northwest toward Maggie’s coordinates.” Trim gestured toward Wharton, who was zooming in on the digital map on the SUV’s GPS screen.
“How does he have Maggie’s coordinates?” The roar built in Chisholm’s throat. All this time he’d trusted them. “Did he take her blood?”
“No,” Trim and Wharton responded in unison. The latter delivered a swift glance toward Sam, as if reminding Chisholm to keep calm.
“It’s her necklace,” Wharton said quietly. “When he modified it to stay in one piece during her shifts, a by-product is his ability to track her. He can remove what he gifted if she doesn’t pledge her oath.”
A rational explanation, and the truth based on Wharton’s scent. Chisholm’s gut believed Deacon wouldn’t betray him, but right now nothing seemed right. Head spinning, he issued a harsh grunt and palmed his son’s head, placating the building acrid terror he could smell from the boy.
“This car is bulletproof,” Trim added. “When we get where we’re going, we need Sam to stay inside and lock the doors.”
“Dad—”
“She’s right, son.” Chisholm dropped his hand to the back of Sam’s neck and squeezed softly. “If you’re in here safe, I can focus all my attention on getting the others back.”
Sam’s fists clenched in his lap as his attention turned to the floorboards.
Chisholm squeezed a bit more. “Promise me, son.”
“Yes, Dad.” The cracked voice captured Wharton’s attention, but he only glanced at Chisholm, then refocused on his efforts.
“Soon, Trim.” Wharton wiped at the side window, cleaning the condensation and squinting through the slowly falling, big flakes. “There’s Leggett’s car.”
The SUV lurched to a halt behind Dani’s tiny rental. Trim and Wharton were out and gone in a flurry of fur.
Chisholm turned to his son, holding Sam’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. “What are we?”
Despite the sheen in his eyes, Sam’s expression turned fierce. “Barducs.”
“And what makes us special?”
“We’re a team.” That part came out a little softer.
“Stay here and lock the doors.” It wasn’t a request. He expected his son’s obedience and his nod of acceptance. After a fleeting kiss to the top of Sam’s head, Chisholm slid from the vehicle and waited precious seconds until his son engaged the lock.
Then he pivoted and sprinted down the endless lane toward the paralyzing scent of his family’s fear.
“We’ve got a cop.”
Meaty, the heavyset male with the baseball-mitt palms who’d frisked Dani, shoved her toward a sole oval of light. The kids huddled at the edge of the shadows.
He flourished her badge before tossing it to the barn’s cement floor, slamming her weapon on top of a giant cable spool.
Keeping her head bowed, Dani searched along the edges of the dark room. So far, she’d counted five men. Two in a car outside, one guard at the door, this meaty bruiser, and his more anorexic counterpart standing at the edge of the light by the spool, cleaning his weapon.
As if kidnapping children wasn’t enough, he needed to play with his weapon in front of them? Fury built inside her as she took a slow deep breath to settle herself. Just give me strength!
The one dim construction light swayed, suspended from a rafter above. The tiny globe of washed-out light from the bare bulb confirmed Charlie safe but burrowing himself into Maggie’s chest. Blood stood out on Cabot’s upper lip, with a bruise blossoming along his cheek. Maggie stared defiantly at the men, not even looking Dani’s way. Well, anger served a good purpose in a situation like this.
Ignoring the two men, Dani moved in front of the children and turned to face their kidnappers. As usual with adults, color and sounds didn’t reveal new insights, but she’d give anything to glean a little more information on either of them. Details she could use besides the useless information she’d scoped out inside the barn.
Reflections from the snow outside shone through some of the ceiling cracks. Small pockets of light gray bled into darkness with no way to discern ano
ther exit or escape route. Despite the pockets of light, Dani couldn’t make out anything farther than fifteen feet in any direction. Though the faint outline along the right wall indicated an open stairway leading to a loft above.
Too many vantage points to guard against and no escape route. Not good. Wrapping her arms around herself to diminish her appearance further, she looked back at her guards. “What do you plan to do with us?”
Barely sparing her a glance, the skeleton man at the makeshift table slid the last piece of his weapon back into place and reached for an ammunition clip. Two stubs instead of fingers stood out on his left hand. “What we were paid to do.”
Charlie sniffled behind her, and Dani shifted her stance to block his view.
“Right now, the only charges against you are kidnapping. If you let everyone go, we can work a deal.” She avoided her normal professional attitude, the cop voice that usually compelled perpetrators to reconsider their actions. The image of a seasoned officer wasn’t what she needed here. Naïve and fresh from training might work better.
A sneer flashed across Skeleton’s face, doing nothing good for his gaunt features. Dani gritted her teeth and rubbed her hands over her arms. She didn’t need to see his colors to know they were white, not a pure color but one flagging a void of emotion, compassion, and moral fiber—the man a skeleton, physically and emotionally.
He followed her movements, amusement showing. Then he reverted to a scowl, the severe expression drawing up his hairline and pulling his skin tighter over his cheekbones. “The last time we didn’t get this done, our boss wasn’t pleased. A little overkill is in order.”
Meaty moved closer to the cable spool and angled his head toward his partner, as if they couldn’t hear. “You know, it’s messy doing kids.” His voice whined slightly as he shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe we should just burn down the barn and leave it at that.”
For a minute, Dani thought they might have a reprieve. If they’d leave her and the kids alone for even a few minutes, she’d figure out something.
Skeleton spat onto the floor. With an exaggerated sigh, he put his gun down and turned to Meaty. “This your first kiddie killing? What, you too much of a good Christian to off little people?”
Swallowing back bile, Dani prayed they would debate this for a good long time. She was on Meaty’s side at this point. He’d buy her the most leverage.
Meaty continued. “I’m just saying—we can do this another way.”
“We’ve got to do this right,” snapped Skeleton. “I’m not staying around for screaming, smells, and cops to get proof later.”
A sickening cold wave of nausea choked Dani’s throat as she watched Skeleton pull a small camera from his pocket and slide it across the tabletop.
“If you’re so squeamish, you can handle the proof, and I’ll do the wet work.”
Dani reached behind her and touched Maggie’s shirt, giving her a slight push to indicate she should move backward.
“We’re still missing one,” her stubborn frisker insisted.
“The one we need is here. A few extra is just icing.”
“Jeez, you’re cold, man. And the cop?”
“A complication. We’ve handled complications. Backwoods, dishwater town should be no problem. Hell,” he turned his attention to her, “she even brought her own weapon.”
Options. Options. Dani transferred her weight from one foot to the other, pretending discomfort as her mind spun through alternatives. Where were those shifters? Her eyes, finally adjusting to the light, made out a closed door to the far right. A dusky square illuminated on the floor also indicated a window somewhere over her left shoulder. Not good options for the kids, but certainly potential entryways for wolves and lions.
“If you let the children go, I can negotiate special arrangements for you—WITSEC.” The option struck her as absurd, given the Barduc family’s predicament, but who knew what the killers would believe.
Skeleton man looked up, and she forced a tight, high-pitched sound close to a whimper. Not much of one, granted, but it was the best she could do despite her wish to see them rot in a deep, dark pit until their flesh fell off their bones.
He rolled his eyes and went back to laying out more bullets. “See, a whiner. She’s no problem.”
No problem? Just wait. She kept shuffling back and forth, playing the nervous ninny, subtly allowing the kids to continue their backward progress toward the few pieces of farm equipment stored there.
She heard the first howl and coughed to cover the sound. When the hit men didn’t even pause in their discussion with each other, she knew her chance had come.
Wolf snarls joined with a single high-pitched scream. As the two men whipped around, scanning for an explanation, she took her cue.
Dropping to a crouch, she shuffled backward, frantically motioning for the kids to get on the floor. “Crawl as far back as you can.”
A brittle explosion of glass showered her as a blur of white fur flew over her head.
Her movements had caught the men’s attention, but they were unprepared for the wolf’s assault. Staggering backward, they shot ineffectively as the wolf zigzagged toward them. Wharton was taunting them, whether to expend their bullets or for fun, she didn’t care. At least he kept them busy.
From the corner of Dani’s eye, a reflection in the rafters caught her attention. As a thin stream of red light slid across the floor toward her, she launched toward the kids, landing on her back three feet away from her initial position. The red light swung away.
A sniper in the rafters? That meant six of them. And her gut said Meaty and Skeleton didn’t have the same agenda as the guy upstairs with the nightscope.
“Stay out of the light,” she hissed toward Maggie. “And get behind something.”
Dani watched Meaty’s body twitch as silent bullets from above hit their mark. The wolf’s head snapped up, jaws gaping as bloodred eyes scanned the rafters. It spun and rushed into the darkness of the barn after Skeleton.
Still alive, Meaty groaned and struggled to pull himself toward the door. The door crashed open. Red fur swirled with the sweeping snow as fangs snapped around Meaty’s neck and dragged him away.
Dani heard Skeleton’s gun echo again in the darkness and silence. Breathing hard, she held her place. The men who’d threatened her and the ones outside were no longer a danger. But above—she squinted, unable to see anything, and calculated the distance to her weapon.
She turned to check the kids. All had moved out of her sight. “Stay where you are.”
“You, too,” Maggie whispered from a location to Dani’s distant right.
Relief hit her as Chisholm’s growl rent the air in a rousing crescendo that threatened her eardrums. The animal promise of retribution almost distracted her from the swift volley of dust plumes to her left. She pushed a large crate in front of her, trying to shield the kids and herself from the sniper’s view as he narrowed in on their location.
Another scream combined with the enraged snarls of Deacon’s team filtered in from outside. Then the red light streamed her way.
A mass of gold flew in front of her as the red light found her position. In horror, she watched the lion’s body jerk. Four jerks—four impacts—four bullets. Chisholm’s lion dropped to the floor within the circle of light with a dull thud. Blood marks peppered his furred chest, leaking red in a pool around him.
Oh God, no!
“Chisholm!” In a moment of paralysis, her blood iced in her veins and a sick, dizzy nausea boiled inside her gut.
Wolf snarls and claws, racing along the rafters, barely registered. Shocked back to reality as the red light moved again, she twisted to look behind her. Uninjured, Maggie lay sprawled over Charlie, tucked partially behind a grain chute, her arms flexing to keep him covered. But Cabot stood, taking one step toward the pool of light, his gaze fixed on his father’s body.
“No.” Dani didn’t think. She didn’t breathe. She reacted. With a response born of training and, mor
e importantly, panic, she lunged, reaching Cabot as fire seared across the inside of her arm. He gasped, and his gaze locked on her, a shocked look in his eyes as they both went down.
One long scream and a screech of twisted metal echoed from the rafters above them.
She rolled away from Cabot, ripping his shirt and gently searching his body. The thick discomfort of Cabot’s harsh swallow reached her as blood from his wound slicked her fingers.
“Come on, honey. Stay with me.” She dragged off her jacket, then her jersey shirt. Wadding the soft cotton into a thick mound, she pressed against the flow and covered him with the jacket. It didn’t stem the bleeding as she’d hoped. “Hang in there, Cabot. This isn’t too bad.”
“Dani.” Cabot coughed.
“I’m right here.”
“It hurts.” He tilted his head and looked toward his father on the floor.
“We’ll get you fixed. Don’t worry.” God, she was a terrible liar. At a muffled mewl, she glanced over her shoulder and blinked. The enormous lion moved one paw, scraping at the concrete with no effect. He struggled to brace the paw beneath him and rise, but lost his footing. Metal clattered to the floor and he turned his head toward them. The deep glimmer of red in his eyes started to dim to black, and he collapsed.
Not my lion. After all he’d lived through, he was supposed to be invincible. “Chisholm, get the hell up. Don’t you dare leave us when we need you.”
She didn’t know what made her scream at him or why she was certain it would work. Except that he’d promised. He was hers. “If I own you, then you’d better damn well prove it. Now. Do you hear me?”
His eyes opened. Red receded as he lifted his head again, a golden gaze fixed on her and Cabot. He growled, too soft for her satisfaction, but his muscles shifted and quivered, straining to comply.
Tears dripping down her cheeks, Dani yelled at him again. “That’s it. Show me you meant what you said.”
