Tears never fixed anything. Quiet, careful plans were the only things that worked. She’d planned her way into her grandmother’s favor. She’d planned her way into her upcoming marriage. Now she would plan her way home and back into her real life and away from his crazy, sexy man who made her chest so tight she could barely breathe.
She turned her hot face into her pillow and drowned out her sobs.
She woke up with irritated eyes and her face pressed with creases from the sheets. But the drama was over and her head was clear. She knew what to do.
She had to act today, while Lana still underestimated her fitness and Sam was distracted by what was going on over in Windy Gap. She’d play sick, take advantage of the distraction of the fire, and get the hell out of here.
Showered and dressed, she felt even better. She climbed the stairs, hesitating in front of the kitchen door. The smell of coffee and the quiet murmur of voices drifted through the old heavy door. This was it. She dropped her shoulders and chin, and moving much slower than she could, she stepped out from behind the door.
“Hi,” she said, keeping her voice low. Lana sat at the table with Ellen the nurse. As soon as they saw her they stopped their conversation and their faces morphed from serious to nonchalant.
“Coffee?” Lana asked.
“Oh, honey, ’bout time you were up.” Ellen’s generous face creased into a smile. “You must be starved, missing breakfast. It’s almost noon.”
“Oh?” She’d had breakfast, with Sam. But she’d go along. Her stomach growled. “I’ve never been this hungry in my life.” She ignored the looks the two exchanged. “Is there lunch?”
“I was just about to fix lunch.” Ellen got up, bustling around and getting Glenna settled at the table with a fresh cup of coffee. “Sit. Sit.”
“Is Sam still up? He might want some food too.”
“No, he’s sleeping.” Lana said. “He had a rough night.”
“Isn’t Ian joining us?”
“Ian’s out getting some exercise.”
Excellent, both men were out of the picture, but not for long.
Lana got up and excused herself. “Ellen, I’ll be downstairs in the storeroom boxing up supplies.” She shook her head and headed for the basement door. “The fire’s still going and they’ll need everything we’ve got.”
Glenna chatted with Ellen over soup and sandwiches about the weather, the state of the fire. Anytime the conversation veered too close to anything she really wanted to know, like when she could go home, Ellen smiled and pushed food at her. “Let’s talk about all that once you’re stronger.”
She stifled her wedding dress worries and ate, ignoring years of training, knowing she might need all the energy she could get for her escape. Once her plate was clean she stretched and yawned. “Can I help you with the dishes?”
“Oh no, honey, you’re still recovering.” Ellen cleared the table. “Why don’t you go back downstairs and sleep some more.”
“You know, what I’d really like to do is get some fresh air.”
“A little sun is just what you need.” Ellen nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll just do these dishes.”
Glenna faked another yawn. “My, I’m tired. I’m so full, I might just take a nap.”
“You go right ahead. I have some work to do in the supply room downstairs, but I’ll hear if you call. Why don’t you sit out on the deck? The sun is lovely today.”
Glenna casually swung Lana’s jacket off the wall hook and took it outside. Ellen followed her with a blanket, fussing and fretting until it was wrapped, just so. Glenna smiled her sweetest smile and plotted.
She needed the keys. Once she had those she could be in the Jeep and gone.
She crept over the creaky wooden porch floor and peered into the window. Ellen had gone down to the clinic. This was it. She opened the office door and moved quietly in, pulling it closed behind her.
She’d searched this room before, but Lana and Ian had driven here. There had to be keys somewhere. She wasn’t giving up until she found them.
She sat at Lana’s desk and quietly pulled out the top drawer. No keys.
It took three drawers before she found Lana’s purse and the keys tucked in it. Trying to keep them from jingling, she stuffed them back into the purse and took the whole thing.
She headed for the closed door and was almost out of the room when the rack of keys on the back of the door registered. Why the hell hadn’t she seen these the other night? Had she been that out of it? No, she hadn’t closed the door. She mentally kicked her past self, stupid, they’d been here all along and she could have been long gone before now.
She stuffed every single key into the purse. She didn’t have time to figure out which keys were for what. She had to go now.
Tiptoeing back to the kitchen, she listened hard to the sounds of the house. The quiet sounds of the two women chatting and laughing drifted out of the basement. No sign of Sam, no sign of Ian.
She forced herself to keep each step slow and quiet across the deck and down the steps, even though the urge to run pounded inside her heartbeat.
Once she touched solid ground, she ran to the Jeep, ignoring the evil little voice streaking fear into her veins saying, ‘They’re coming. Faster. Faster.’
She pulled out the keys, shoving first one, then the next into the tiny slot. “Come on, come on.” Finally, one fit and she unlocked the Jeep.
Once inside she cranked it on and backed out of the drive. A flash of something ran out of the house. It was a wolf, a grey wolf like the one she’d seen the other day. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Dog, it’s a dog. Not a wolf. There are no such things as werewolves.” No matter what she thought she’d seen the other day, no matter how seriously Sam told her that werewolves were real, she just couldn’t believe it. It was a large dog, that’s all, running behind her. The damn thing was trying to run in front of the wheels, like it knew she would never hit it. It was wrong.
She pushed her foot down hard and sped up. This was life and death—her life and death—and while the person she was a few weeks ago would have driven into a tree before hitting a dog, the person she was today was hell bent on survival. She cranked the wheel, making a sharp right and praying that the dog, or wolf, or whatever the hell it was, would stay the hell out of the way.
Chapter Twenty-five
Sam was dreaming. And he knew it was a dream because only in his dreams would Glenna be wearing a next-to-nothing scrap of a dress and sitting on his lap.
“So, are you going to kiss me?” She leaned in, lips pouting, eyes inviting. Hell yeah. He reached for her.
The siren scream of a woman’s angry voice shattered his dreamscape. He sat up, fast, banging his head hard on the low ceiling.
“Shit!” He jumped out of bed and ran naked down the hall and out into the kitchen, shoving through the chairs to get to the door.
Lana was outside on the deck. “Get her! Get her!” Ian’s wolf ran too close to the spinning tires of the Jeep as it peeled down the dirt driveway, heading for the road.
“What the hell is happening?”
“Glenna stole the Jeep!” He’d thought he’d seen Lana mad before, but her face was the ripe red of a tomato and the screech of her voice would strip paint off the wall.
He shifted in mid stride and made for the trail of dust left in the wake of the tires. He ran hard, but when he reached the end of the drive the Jeep was just a dot in the distance. Ian stood in the middle of the road, tail down, sides heaving. Sam jogged up to him and nosed him in the neck. Ian whined, his head drooping low.
One thing. He’d had one job here and he’d failed at it. Now he had to do damage control. He turned and ran back to the house and up the stairs to the back door, pushing past Lana, and shoving her out of the way, he shifted back to human.
Time. Time. Time. His body couldn’t make the shift fast enough. He stumbled down the hall for the office door where the keys hung. But they weren’t there.
“Fuck!” He
hit the door, his fist breaking through the thin veneer and through the other side. Even the pain didn’t distract him from his failure as Lana ran into the room. She stopped short and stared at the hole in the door and the scrapes on his hand.
“What now?”
“The keys. She took all of the fucking keys.” He turned and headed for his room.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going after her. I need clothes.”
“You’d better,” Lana called after him. “We can’t have her found. With Windy Gap in danger, we need to keep a low cover.”
Windy Gap. He should be there, fighting for the pack, protecting the pack. Not chasing after some woman who was lucky enough to be given a gift that Lana, or any of the ones unlucky enough to never change, would kill for. A woman who didn’t understand what it was to be pack. A woman who had put them all in danger.
“How are you going to do that? You have no idea where she’s going and no car.”
“Yes, I do.” He’d hotwire the SUV if he had to, but he would find Glenna and drag her ass back here.
She thought she could go home again, but he knew the bitter truth—you could never go back home. If the CDC got her, they’d never let her go. She’d be caged and used for interrogation and experimentation. And when she changed, and he had no doubt she would, they’d come after all of them. Every last man, woman, and child. Because then, they’d finally have their proof, shifters did exist.
Chapter Twenty-six
Alastair stared at the papers scattered on the desk in front of him and rubbed his aching temples. Slam after slam of a ball on cement, followed by the shouts of the boys on the court down below his office window, had his head pounding. He got up and went to the window, staring down at the boys, vicious thoughts of retribution running through his head. He had too much to do to be distracted like this. All he wanted to do was to open the window and scream at them. But his reputation was already threatened by Steven Clawbender’s escape—the last thing he needed was one of the kids complaining to a parent that Mr. McHenry was an asshole.
He turned around and brooded down at the papers. Every one of the school staff had written what they knew about the event. But he’d been through the conflicting reports over and over and he still couldn’t sort out how Steven had gotten out of a room locked from the outside. No one would confess.
Now he had to interview at least a dozen of the staff and then he had the exhausting duty of using his spelltalker skills to sort out the truth from the lies.
Luckily he had the ability to do it, but he was running out of time. While traveling on the astral and talking to people could be much quicker than talking to them on the physical plane, it still took time. At least they were more honest in their astral forms. It would only take him one look to discover who had released Steven but the combined heads of both Colorado councils had called a meeting. If he didn’t have some answers tonight, it would be his head on a plate. He needed to defend his job, or they’d put someone else in charge.
And he needed this job. Without the school’s extensive grounds and outbuildings, not to mention the open access he had to the virus, his plans would go up in flames.
He tuned out the noise down below and focused on his goals. For every spelltalker or dreamwalker who felt lost and alone, he’d be the solution. He’d be the one to make them equal. They’d be able to choose quality mates, with the best options for having strong children with the right DNA. Then, once they were grateful to him and understood what was at risk, he’d make his move.
The council bitches would never know what hit them.
They thought they were superior, they thought everyone else in the pack was less than, that they couldn’t do anything without the wolves. But they were wrong.
Alastair rested his head on the cool glass of the window and let it soothe his throbbing head, calming his stress with visions of what was to come—his ultimate bid for control.
In this modern world, it was the other way around. Only spelltalker skills could sort truths from lies, and wipe memories from mundanes who’d seen too much, control the Bite. Dreamwalkers kept the shifters sane when they were crazy from their wolves. And dormants, well, dormants had infiltrated places in society that shifters would never dare to go.
When he had Glenna, he’d be able to prove that they could get mates from the mundane population. Then, instead of shifters being the most desired spouses, everyone would have their chance. And since he’d be the one in charge of the Bite and the spell that activated it, he’d be the most powerful man in the non-shifter groups of the pack.
All he needed was Glenna.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Glenna drove like a crazy person, rocketing past little old ladies in the slow lane of I-70. Shearing close to the extreme drop-offs that characterized Rocky Mountain highways. Blowing everything from massive RVs to earthy-crunchy camping vans off the road in pursuit of her one overriding desire.
She had to see Sarah.
Only five when their parents died, Sarah had latched onto ten-year-old Glenna as a rock in the storm. From then on, Glenna was mother, father, and protector. And Sarah needed protection, not just from the loss of their parents, friends and home. But most of all from the unfeeling controlling environment they’d been forced to adapt to—Grandmother’s house.
Sarah must be devastated she was dead. Falling apart. And who would be there for her this time? Grandmother. Glenna nearly laughed. No way. Sarah needed her.
The sun had dropped down to crest the top of the foothills by the time she had made the two hour drive down from the mountains to the plains of Denver. She pulled into Sarah’s apartment parking lot near downtown. The lights were on, and she could see someone moving behind the sheer drapes. Sarah.
Hope nearly choked her as she flung herself out of the Jeep and up the two flights of stairs, barely making it to the top. She gasped for breath. She wasn’t recovered enough for this, not by a long shot, but she pushed her body to the limit all the way to Sarah’s door.
Completely out of breath by the time she hit Sarah’s door, she tried the knob. It gave, and she fell into the living room.
It was empty.
Glenna stood gasping for breath, waiting for Sarah to come out of her bedroom and give her a huge hug. And maybe, just once, be the one who took care of things. For the first time since she was small, Glenna wished she was the little sister and that she had a big sister to tell her everything was going to be alright. But Sarah didn’t come.
She heard a sound in the bedroom. “Sarah?”
“Who’s there?” Roger came into the room, in his dress slacks and button-down shirt. Calm, cool, and in control.
“Roger. Thank God.” Glenna moved toward him but the stark fear on his face stopped her cold.
“What the....?” He backed up a step. “You’re dead. They told us you were dead.”
“I’m not dead. I’m alive.” She took another hesitant step into the living room. “Where’s Sarah? Is she in the bedroom?”
Roger covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. “They said you were sick, that you died in quarantine. It was on the news.”
“I’m not dead, I’m not even sick anymore. I’m better.”
“It’s contagious. You shouldn’t be here.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at her as if she were disputing the well-known reputation of his favorite news anchor.
“No, it’s not contagious. Well, it is, but only sometimes. They said only if I had a fever, but I’m female, so it’s no big deal.” She sounded like an idiot. Everything Sam had said sounded crazy. What did he know? Maybe she was contagious. Maybe she was putting her little sister in danger.
For the first time since she’d left the cabin, she felt a tingle of remorse.
“Where have you been?”
“I was kidnapped.” The words came out of her mouth, and she knew as soon as she said them that Roger wasn’t listening.
“We should call the author
ities. He searched his pockets with his free hand, patting them as if looking for something. “They’ll know what to do with you.”
“What do you mean—do with me? I’m home. We’re celebrating our wedding in a few months.”
“There’s no wedding. We had a funeral instead.”
No wedding. A funeral instead. Spots danced in front of her eyes. “I need to sit down.” She sank onto the pretty sage green sofa she and Sarah had chosen together.
“You are sick.” Roger’s eyes widened over the mask of his arm. “I knew it.”
“I’m just dizzy.” Her stomach hurt, whether from hunger or the rejection in Roger’s eyes, she couldn’t say.
“You never think of anyone else.” Roger’s voice rose an octave. “Your grandmother was right—you’re a bull in a china shop, Glenna, never thinking. Look, here’s another example, showing up and exposing Sarah and me to an illness.”
“Sarah and you?” Glenna’s head spun. “Where’s Sarah?”
“She’s out.” Roger shifted his weight and avoided her eyes. “Thank God! Bad enough you show up here, upsetting her, but you could get her sick. You could get me sick.” Roger pulled out his cell phone with his left hand, his other one still covering his face. “I’m calling the police.”
“Do you care about me at all?” He stared at her and she shook her head at him. “I know we’re getting married for lots of practical reasons, but you always at least pretended to like me. Was even that a lie?” She didn’t need to see his nod, the truth was written all over his face.
Roger slowly eased the phone up, his fingers hovering over the screen.
“Glenna, you’re confused. The CDC explained it to us—lycanthroism makes you think things that aren’t true.” His thumb moved over his phone and it lit up. “Now you just rest there and they’ll be here soon.”
“No, they won’t.” Sam walked into the apartment, Ian right behind him, and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”
Relief hit Glenna so hard her head spun. She had to lean back onto the couch again so she didn’t fall over. Despite her escape, despite all her disbelief in everything they’d been telling her, despite all that had gone on, she knew, deep in her bones—these men were hers. And they were here to back her up.
Blood Enforcer (Wolf Enforcers Book 2) Page 13
