by Alana Hart
Assuming she had run away. That’s what Hank assumed. It was why he had requested the alphas services. Their motorcycle club had a reputation as mercenaries of many talents and areas of expertise. Because Aidan was good with technology, he was handed most manhunt assignments.
A cheerful voice came over the speakers on the plane. “We will begin our decent in fifteen minutes.” He had been looking into her past for hours.
Aidan glanced out the window. Gray clouds bubbled in a stormy sea beneath them. He finished his search. As if he sensed Aidan was done, Cormac opened his eyes and made a show of stretching.
“Hot damn that’s a long flight,” he grinned at Aidan. Cormac leaned toward the laptop. “Find her?”
Aidan turned the laptop so that the older shifter could see the location where Reagan Donahue was currently hiding.
Cormac nodded. “Never been to South Carolina.”
Chapter Two
Reagan sat on the squeaky motel bed, the thin, musty smelling blanket around her cold feet. Cartoons mimed silently from the muted TV on the dresser. Boxes from the Chinese food she had gotten for dinner were piled up in the tiny trashcan by the door. At the foot of the bed, sound asleep, lay Harry.
The little girl sucked her thumb, the feetie pajamas covered in cats enveloped her. Golden curls fell over her face, soft in sleep.
They had spent the entire day on a bus from Pennsylvania, and had made it as far as some small town in South Carolina. A snowstorm had made the going slow.
But they were almost there. Another day or so and they would be at Reagan’s place in Georgia. No one knew about it, so it was the safest place she could think of. The plan was to leave as soon as Harry woke up in the morning, grab something to eat, and get bus tickets for Georgia. No stopping until they were walking up the peach tree lined driveway.
She was so far from New Hampshire that she should feel safe, but she didn’t. Granted, she hadn’t felt safe anywhere she was since she was a child, courtesy of her parents.
Just one more day, she thought, shutting off the TV and closing her eyes.
Her eyes snapped open a moment later when she heard a noise. The room was dark, but a light outside her window filtered through the curtains.
There was nothing, no reason to be worried. No one knew where they were. She and Harry were safe.
And then she heard the smallest squeak; metal grating slowly against metal. Someone was turning the doorknob, trying to be silent.
Reagan jumped out of bed. Harry slept on at the foot, buried in blankets. She had no weapons to protect herself. Going for surprise, Reagan stood behind the door and, as it swung inward slowly, she threw her body against it, knocking the intruder off balance.
There was a strangled grunt, and then the door slammed into Reagan’s toe. She cried out, tried to shove the door again, but whoever it was grabbed her by the front of her shirt, slammed the door closed, and pinned her against the wall.
It was too dark to see a face, but her attacker was tall, towering over her. Reagan didn’t scream, afraid she would wake Harry, drawing attention to the little girl, but she did fight. Years of abuse had taught her one thing; if she didn’t fight back she was nothing but a punching bag.
Her attacker grabbed her wrists in one hand and her throat in the other. She kicked and thrashed, panic swelling inside her.
“Knock it off, Reagan.” That voice. It was deep and slow and… familiar. Had Hank sent one of his friends after her?
She stopped fighting. He wasn’t strangling her, but he might if she kept fighting. Bide her time, she thought. She took a deep breath through her nose and froze.
She knew that smell. It was gasoline and leather and cool skin that she knew would taste like soap. He smelled like a man. He smelled like her past. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a breathless, “No.”
In the dark his face was too close. She felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke. “’Fraid so. You done fighting?”
Her fight had left her like a sigh in a storm. She nodded, and he released her. A moment later the overhead light flickered to life. He really was here. She stared at Aidan McKinnon, her heart racing.
He looked the same and yet completely different. Ten years had hardened him. His soft face had given way to hard angles. The mouth that used to love her was now a thin line of irritation. The body that had once been lean and young was now taller, the shoulders wider, the muscles bigger. The curls she used to love to run her fingers through were gone, in their place a black bandana that covered his head. He wore only a tee shirt, but his jacket had to be somewhere nearby, she could smell snow and leather on him. And his eyes. She met their piercing blue-green gaze, the ice in them chilling her.
Why was he here?
His glare was cold. “Pack your shit,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
She swallowed, not about to be bullied when she was so close to being free. “No.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Why are you here?”
He scratched his jaw, watching her out of those cold eyes. “It’s my job,” he said.
“Your job?”
“Your husband hired us to return you to him, so that’s what I’m doing.”
So much for him helping her, she thought. Even though the odds of that had been slim to begin with, she couldn’t help hoping. Until now.
She knew he could hear her heart racing, could smell her fear, but he only stood in front of the door watching her.
“No,” she said again.
“This isn’t sex, Reagan. I ain’t looking for consent.”
Her face warmed at the mention of sex. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. She remained plastered to the wall, wishing he would just go away. But he stood there, his eyes on hers, staring in that way that used to make her knees weak, but now only made her feel exposed, open when she was trying so hard not to reveal anything.
“Get your shit and—What the fuck?” He jumped back as the blankets on the bed stirred.
Reagan hurried to them, pulling a sleepy Harry into her arms. Harry smiled at the newcomer. Aidan pointed at her.
“Who is that?”
Reagan hesitated only a moment, but she doubted even Aidan McKinnon would notice. “My daughter.”
He frowned. “You don’t have a daughter. I would know.”
Shit. She’d forgotten about his talents with technology. “Home birth, no hospital.”
He shook his head. “There’d be something on record.” He took a step closer, and Reagan stepped back, her arms tightening around Harry. “Don’t lie to me, Reagan.”
“She’s my daughter.” This time when he took a step toward them, Reagan held her ground, shaking as he loomed over her. He was much taller than he had been ten years ago.
For a moment that lasted a lifetime, he glared down at her, the anger coming off of him wrapped around her, strangling her. Finally, he cocked an eyebrow.
“Fine. We’re still leaving.” He turned toward the door, but then stopped. “Fuck.”
Reagan shifted Harry on her hip, holding her away from Aidan. “What?”
“I only have my bike. No room for the brat.”
That was presumptuous, Reagan thought. He didn’t know if Harry was a brat or not. But she just shrugged and relaxed somewhat.
“That’s too bad. I was so looking forward to letting you return me to the man I left.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re still going. It’s just gonna take a little longer.” He pulled out his phone and dialed.
“I left him for a reason,” Reagan tried, but Aidan ignored her.
“Can you bring me a car?” he said into the phone. “Bike died,” he lied, glancing at Reagan. “See you.” He ended the call and tucked the huge phone into his back pocket.
“Who was that?”
He smiled, half frowning, and said, “Doesn’t matter. I’ll have a car tomorrow. Why don’t you sleep until then?”
That was unlikely, but she
didn’t tell him so. Instead, she tried again. “I’m not going back to Hank.”
He sat in the green, threadbare armchair in front of the curtained window. “You are. Now be quiet.” He closed his eyes, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe he was actually going to sleep.
She had come so close to getting away, only to have the one person she never wanted to see again, besides Hank, find her.
Amazingly, Harry had fallen back to sleep in Reagan’s arms. She eased the girl back into bed, covering her with the blankets. Reagan sat on the bed, but didn’t dare lie down. She wouldn’t sleep again until she was far, far away from Aidan McKinnon.
Chapter Three
Aidan had to focus on relaxing his muscles. The chair smelled like cigarette smoke and felt like he was sitting on a rock, but he would be damned if he’d climb into the bed with Reagan and that kid.
Fuck. He hadn’t realized how much seeing her again would shake him. He had expected her to fight him, but having her pressed against his body like that was too much. She was too skinny, all bone beneath his hands. But aside from that, she looked a lot like the Reagan he once knew. Pictures were nothing compared to real life. Her hair was longer, thicker, darker. Her face just as exotic, though quite sad looking. Her eyes were still that warm, deep brown, framed by eyelashes too long to be real, but he knew they were.
How she looked didn’t matter, he told himself. What had happened between them when they were teenagers was long gone, so buried in the past it would need an excavation team to dig it up.
He hadn’t been planning on telling her he was there to return her to Hank. If he could have, he was going to sneak in, knock her out, and strap her to his back while he rode his bike. He had made it here in less than a day; he could make it back the same.
But she heard him coming, and he had a steady throb in his elbow to show for it. He still could have gotten away with knocking her out, and was ready to go with that plan, until that kid erupted out of the bed. She’d smelled funny. He had nieces and nephews and they all smelled a little weird. Kids were gross.
Hank hadn’t mentioned a kid, though. That was something Aidan would need to tell the alphas about. It would cost extra.
He wondered where the kid had come from. He’d done a thorough background search of Reagan and Hank, and neither had records of a kid. Reagan was lying to him, but why? Well, beside the obvious that he was dragging her back to a husband she had left.
That was another thing, why had she left him? From what Aidan could see, he was the perfect husband, the perfect guy.
He snorted, the sound soft in the silence.
The bed squeaked as Reagan moved. He could hear her heart finally settling down.
“Why didn’t you just rent a car?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t trust ‘em.” He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. “I figured you’d be pleased. This gives you more time to try and think of a way to escape.”
“So I’m your prisoner?”
“You’re my job.”
“And you don’t care that I don’t want to go back to Hank?”
“Not part of my job.”
“When did you become so heartless?”
He did open his eyes now. It was too dark for her to see much besides shadows and outlines, but his eyesight was better and he could see her as clearly as if it were that gray, pre-dawn time. She sat on the bed, her legs crossed, one hand nervously twirling a lock of hair.
“I can show you heartless, if you like.”
She swallowed. “Forcing me to do something I don’t want to is pretty cruel. I don’t think you could do worse.”
“I could leave that kid here. She’s not part of the job.”
“You wouldn’t.” Someone was getting brave, he thought.
“Don’t test me.”
She returned his glare, her fear ebbing away as anger took its place.
“How did you find me?”
He sighed. “Not easily. Your last debit card transaction was made in Nashua. You took out a thousand dollars. After that there was nothing. If it weren’t me looking for you, you’d have gotten away. But I tracked all plane, bus, and car rentals purchases after that. Found your picture on a security camera in a Pennsylvania bus station. Didn’t see the kid though.”
In the dark he saw her eyes dart toward the sleeping girl.
“How did you get so far without buying her a bus ticket?”
Reagan shrugged, her fingers going to her hair again, twirling a thick lock of it. Aidan sighed and leaned back.
“You know I’ll find out eventually.”
She didn’t respond. He watched her for a while, as her eyes grew heavy. Finally, after staring at him in the pitch dark, maybe checking to see if he was asleep, she lay down and slowly fell asleep.
Aidan didn’t need to sleep. Couldn’t even if he wanted to. He had spent so much time living as a wolf the past three months that he was still functioning as one. His senses were on high alert. Every sound was like thunder, every scent was overpowering, every movement drew his attention.
He rubbed his eyes, leaning his elbows on his knees. Fuck Cormac, he thought. Wasn’t three months forced to live as a lone wolf punishment enough? You know what, fuck Connor. It was his fault Aidan had been sent to Ireland this time. Connor should have been the one living in the woods, eating rabbit, running from hunters. And now he was stuck here, with Reagan and a brat, while Connor was off somewhere fucking a human.
Listening to her breathing even out, Aidan ached for the past. Not the past when he and Reagan spent nights sneaking into each other’s rooms, but before that, to the first time he met her. He wanted to go back to that day when he heard her father hollering in the Den, beer bottles smashed at his feet as he stumbled around the bar. He wanted to tell himself to stay in his room, let his uncles deal with the drunks. If he had stayed in his room, he would never have met the teenager attempting to drag her giant of a drunken father outside.
He wouldn’t be here now, remembering that first time he had felt someone else’s pain; Reagan’s pain.
Fuck Cormac, he thought again.
A noise roused him from his memories. He peered through a slit in the curtains. In the parking lot, a large van pulled up in front of the room, the headlights off. The van’s engine cut out, the silence left behind was thick. He watched four men climb out of the van, all in black, carrying a duffel bag.
Shit. No one was coming after Aidan. This group was here for Reagan and the kid, which meant Hank had used him to find her. The alphas wouldn’t be happy.
Aidan eased off the chair and stood behind the door. He didn’t shift. Taking on four men alone would be easier as a human. He waited as the doorknob turned.
Chapter Four
Reagan woke for the second time that night to the sound of the doorknob slowly turning. This time she sat right up and blinked her eyes into focus. Dawn was coming, but not for at least a couple of hours. Still, the darkness in the motel room had lightened to a shadowy gray. She could see a tall outline behind the door. Aidan lifted a hand, gesturing her to get back.
She reached for Harry. The girl slept soundly under her heaps of blankets. Reagan lifted her from her nest, earning the smallest of sleepy moans, and slid to the floor behind the bed.
Not far enough, she thought, as the door opened and four figures blocked out the dim streetlights. Hank had found her; there was no other explanation.
Words failed her as she watched Aidan grab the nearest intruder and slam him against the wall, knocking him out instantly. But then the others knew he was there. She saw batons and pipes swinging at Aidan. He dodged them, his hands swinging at the men’s stomachs.
Growls mixed with grunts of pain. It was too dark to see if Aidan was winning. And then the bundle in her arms coughed.
The fight paused for a moment as the three remaining intruders turned toward them. Two of the men went at Aidan with renewed energy, while the third came for Reagan and Harry.
“Stay here, baby, don’t move.” She put Harry in the tub and worked to open the window over the toilet. It stuck; painted shut. But the paint was old. It started to crumble as she heaved her shoulders up in an effort to force the window open.
At the same time, the man outside started throwing his whole body at the locked door. Harry whimpered in the tub, her tiny hands on the cold porcelain. The door began to splinter. Reagan beat her fists against the window frame, desperate to loosen the paint.
Suddenly, the man outside stopped hitting the door. There was a grunt and then silence.
Reagan held her breath, her blood pounding in her ears. She had no weapons in here, so she got ready to shove the door at whoever tried to come in.
The knock startled her. “Reagan, it’s me. Open the door.” Aidan’s voice coming through the broken wood sucked all of the breath from her. On shaky knees, she unlocked the door. He came in as she leaned down and lifted Harry from the tub.
“You okay?” Aidan asked.
Reagan nodded, and then she noticed Aidan’s hands. She grabbed his wrist. He yanked away from her like she had burned him. His eyes shifted toward her.
“It’s fine,” he said, and wiped his hands on a dingy towel.
Back in the room, he turned on the light. Reagan stared at the mess on the floor. She hid Harry’s face in her shoulder. All four men lay in a heap, bloodied and broken, dead or dying.
“Know any of them?” he asked.
Reagan shook her head. “No, none of them. I thought Hank would’ve sent his bowling buddies.”
Aidan nodded, his knuckles now clean and undamaged. “They’re shifters,” he said staring at them.
Reagan’s stomach contracted, but she reigned in her fear. “Why didn’t they shift?”
He frowned and crouched by one of the men. He pulled a thin, rubber necklace from his neck and rolled it in his fingers, studying it. The laugh that erupted from his throat was short and disbelieving.
