Two uniformed officers stood their ground, arms folded, brows furled. The third, a younger man in an ill-fitting, olive green suit, approached, hand extended. “I’m detective Harry Dickson.”
One of the uniforms snickered.
It took Wylde a moment to get the joke.
Making fun of a man’s name was something Wylde was vastly familiar with. Growing up he’d been Born to be Wylde, Wylde Child, and because of a popular American TV show, One Wylde and Crazy Guy. The Russians had loved that one. Well, he had done his best to live up to it.
Wylde accepted the man’s hand. “Detective Dickson.”
Young. Possibly new to his position as detective.
Hesitation and uncertainty wafted off the detective as he squared his shoulders. “You’re Mr. Wylde, from Xi Force? I’ve seen you on TV.”
Yes, Harry knew his position. How did a beat cop, newly promoted to detective, tell a world-renowned superhero to butt out of his investigation?
“I am not here in any official capacity, other than to help Dr. Cullen transport her wolf pup here for Dr. Locklear’s examination, though I am curious about how close you are to rescuing Dove. She is a close friend of mine.” Hard as he tried not to, Wylde liked the young detective on sight. And on scent. He smelled honest, and that was a subtle fragrance Wylde had learned to detect at an early age.
“You understand there are aspects of the investigation I am not at liberty to divulge. Even to you.”
Like how his hands were being tied at some higher level in his organization? Like how the police had no leads, and no idea how to proceed other than looking official?
Yeah, if he were in the detective’s position, he wouldn’t divulge anything either. But it was all there. In the man’s face, his stance, and his scent.
“I understand.” Wylde didn’t need anything from the police anyway.
He turned away from the detective back toward Dr. and Mrs. Locklear, who were fussing over Jimmy.
Dr. Locklear raised an eyebrow. “He’s less than a year old? He’s so big.”
“His brother and sisters are much smaller, yet he was the runt of the litter once,” Wylde said as he rejoined the Locklears and Mary.
Mary ran her hand down Jimmy’s back. “That’s part of why we wanted you to check him out.”
Nodding, Dr. Locklear motioned them toward the kitchen. “We’d best get him to my lab.”
Clearing his throat, Detective Dickson called after them. “Remember, if the phone rings, don’t answer it back there, come up here so we can trace the call if we have to.”
The kitchen was the epicenter of the Locklear household. Cooking and baking smells filled the spacious room. Clean, comfortable, more home than Wylde had ever felt anywhere else, except maybe with his wolf pack.
Mrs. Locklear reached for a cup and the pot. “Coffee, Mary? John?”
He’d become so accustomed to the bitter brew lately, and his mouth craved the taste. But he didn’t dare. The rich aroma would distract and cover the subtle scents he’d be searching for once in the lab. “Thank you, but no.”
“Well, I could use a cup.” Mary reached for the offered steaming mug.
They followed Dr. Locklear into the lab, and Jimmy went right to work, sniffing around the room.
A variety of birds filled most of the cages against the west wall, a lynx lounged in one of the bigger cells, and two dogs roomed together in another.
Wylde went down on all fours, bringing his nose to the floor. Scents created pathways.
Dove’s essence led him to a desk and worktable on the south wall. Jimmy had his nose already in the cushioned desk chair seat. Dove sat here.
The desk was stark, orderly, and smartly positioned. In contrast, a shelf above the desk contained a chaotic array of tchotchkes. A Wonder Woman pencil sharpener leaned haphazardly against a Minnie Mouse figurine. A Thor’s hammer keychain hung from a thumb tack. Dragons, unicorns, and other mythical creatures stood side by side with a stuffed penguin, Optimus Prime, and some Anime-type action figures he couldn’t identify.
She’d never stopped dreaming. Never stopped playing. That warmed his heart.
Smoke stick man. I hate him.
Jimmy’s growl brought Wylde back to the present.
Smoke stick man?
Jimmy was sniffing around another desk down the wall from Dove’s. Wylde followed him, following the thin trail of cigarette smoke scent wrapped in a particular essence Wylde knew well. An essence even Jimmy recognized.
Boris Kozlov. The Red Guard agent known as Port.
Another male essence, not Dr. Locklear or Boris, was more prominent here. Hints of cologne, testosterone, musky sweat. “Was this Randy Trevor’s desk?”
Dr. Locklear nodded. “That’s where he sat when he wasn’t helping me with a project.”
At least now he had Randy’s scent. But what was Boris’s essence doing here?
Wylde pulled his phone from his pocket, looked at the black screen, and sighed. He knew it was possible to bring pictures up on the device, but didn’t have a clue how to do it.
“Mary, can you make a picture of Port appear on this thing?” Shit, he hated asking.
Mary rolled her eyes at him, and pulled out her own phone.
It took her less than a minute to bring Boris’s picture up on her screen. She passed it to the Locklears.
Dr. Locklear’s mouth narrowed. “Yes. He came here to meet with Randy a couple of times.”
Nodding, Mrs. Locklear added, “He always smelled of cigarette smoke, though I never let him smoke in the house. The last time I saw him was a couple of weeks ago.”
Right before he’d been imprisoned.
Wylde fisted his hands so tightly the knuckles went white. He ground his teeth as his body shook.
Boris had been working with Susan Mullins and Ghaim, the organization that had killed most of Wylde’s original pack, killed members of the Xi Force Team, including Jason Pike.
And he was a member of the Red Guard, the Russian criminal organization responsible for allowing Wylde’s father to continue his experimentation.
Wylde had first met Boris at the Red Guard’s hidden Siberian research facility years ago. An ex-KGB operative, Boris must have also been a subject of one of the compound’s experiments to give him his powers of teleportation.
Ghaim was gone, defeated by both Xi Force and internal greed. Susan Mullins was in a maximum-security prison, and not in a position to mastermind any kind of operation. Could the Red Guard be behind Dove’s kidnapping?
It made sense. Dove’s research and her access to her dad’s work made her an excellent addition to Red Guard’s research facility, and they had the means to coerce her to work for them.
They’d threaten her family and friends, and if that didn’t work, they’d torture her. These fiends were merciless. That’s why his father fit in to the organization so well.
They’d given his father a workplace when things had gotten too hot here in the United States. Allowed that bastard to continue his experiments. Continue to make Wylde the animal he was today.
They were monsters, and he knew in that instant that they were the ones who had abducted Dove. It was the only conclusion that made sense.
He knew her well enough to know she’d resist. Eventually they would torture her. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I think I know where Dove is. We have to get back to Xi Force Headquarters.” He was probably the only one who could rescue her.
Mary nodded.
As he headed to the car, Wylde paused in the dining room and pulled Detective Dickson aside. “There will be no ransom demand, and you’d best get the FBI involved as soon as possible. She’s probably already crossed state lines.”
The detective shook his head. “T
hey won’t let me . . . I can’t . . . Not without some evidence.”
Yeah, someone higher up the Megopolis Police Department food chain was putting roadblocks in front of this. Why?
“You want evidence. Follow us to the Northshire State Penitentiary.”
Detective Dickson pointed at the two uniformed officers. “Let’s go.”
They folded their arms and glared at him. Tension crackled between the two big officers and Detective Dickson. There was more going on here than showed on the surface.
Wylde caught the men’s essence. Dishonest, corrupt. These men weren’t police officers. They were thugs.
Dickson stared them down. “Or stay here, I don’t care. I’m going.”
When the brute smiled, he was missing teeth. “Not in our car.”
Behind Wylde, Jimmy issued a low growl. Yeah, the kid had good instincts.
Mary huffed. “You can ride with us, Detective Dickson.”
Chapter 5
Wylde knew Port’s cell was windowless, prepared specially for the villain. Boris Kozlov could teleport line of sight. But as long as he couldn’t see out, he couldn’t get out. At least that was the premise.
This particular prisoner visitation room also allowed no view to the outside, and Port, hooded all along the route from his cell, was directed to a chair and handcuffed to the table before they removed the blindfold.
Wylde sat beside Detective Dickson in the visitation room, at that table. The cuffs remained bolted to it and the steel chair sat across from them. Both were now empty. It drove home how dangerous this man was.
Still, the prisoner was in the room, and that was all Wylde required.
He wondered if Red Guard already had plans to free Boris, no doubt one of its top agents. Port would be too valuable an asset to have cooling his heels in prison. Could even this high-security state penitentiary keep him under lock and key if Red Guard decided to spring him?
At least Boris was here now, thank goodness. Still locked away from any view of the outside world. His stale, smoky scent followed him as he paced the interrogation room. A sneer, that at times bloomed into a crafty smile, painted the man’s features.
Wylde took in a deep whiff of his essence. Perspiration, but no fear. An inner calm at odds with his confinement.
The smugness of his manner betrayed his confidence. After the prison guards had handcuffed him to the interrogation table, he’d simply ported out the moment they removed his blindfold. He simply needed to see another place to be.
They’d offered to blindfold him again, but Wylde waved them off. He wanted to see the man’s eyes to read him better.
Boris twirled an unlit cigarette between his fingers as he paced. “Johnny Wylde, we meet again.”
“And this time you’re the one who’s a prisoner.” At least for now.
Boris raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “So it would appear.”
Then a wink.
Yeah, there was something in the air. And Boris didn’t care if he knew it. Wylde would alert the prison officials and pass word on to Joel and Aaron. He had little faith in humans and their institutions, but he’d warn them none the less.
Swift justice did not mean a swift death, even when that was the sentence Boris had well earned. In this case, the justice of the forest would have been the better option.
Then again, if so, Wylde wouldn’t have had this opportunity.
Moving on, he asked his question. “How do you know Randy Trevor?”
Now a smile broke fully across Port’s visage. He shook his head. “Lennie.”
The name slid from his lips like a punch line. He chuckled. “His real name is Leonov Stravinsky. He joined us shortly after you left. If you’re asking about him, it doesn’t matter anyway. That tells me he already has her.”
Detective Dickson rose, knuckles on the table. “Where is he taking her?”
Boris pinned Wylde with a stare. “You know.”
Gritting his teeth, Wylde cocked his head toward the detective. “He needs to hear it from you.”
It came out as more of a growl.
There were games within games being played here. Corruption or complacency within the MPD. An international criminal organization. And far too many egos.
Dove was a pawn and Wylde was fucking sick of playing.
The wolf in him wanted to rip the man’s throat out and be done with it.
Again that chuckle, a low rasping rumble. “Oh, why not. We’re friends after all. I always liked you, Johnny. We could have been partners, had you not run away.”
Wylde refused to rise to the bait. “Just say it. He’s taking her to Russia? To the Red Guard compound?”
Of course he was. It’s the only thing that made any sense.
“Lennie was originally sent to gain David Locklear’s trust and steal his research before kidnapping him. Dove, however, proved a much more valuable acquisition. She knew all her father’s research and was working on some exciting new experiments on her own. And she sure is a cute little thing. Probably a better travel companion for Lennie.”
A chill slithered down Wylde’s spine. He turned to Detective Dickson. “You need anything more?”
The man shook his head. “I don’t think so. Will Xi Force get involved?”
Officially or unofficially didn’t really matter anymore.
“We’re already involved, but there’s no need for you to tell your superiors.”
~ ~ ~
After three fucking days of being tied up and gagged, riding in the trunk of Randy’s car, Dove was at her wit’s end. They’d stopped along the way for food and rest stops, but only at secured locations, private houses along whatever route they were taking. He’d pop the trunk of the car in the garage and haul her into the house before untying her.
He’d feed her, let her go to the bathroom, and lock her in a room to sleep for the night. He hadn’t tried to rape her. Hadn’t really touched her at all except for carrying her from the trunk and back.
She had no idea where she was, or where she was going. Each house along the way had been similar. Stocked with food, locks reversed on the bedroom door, windows barred or boarded up, no way to tell where the hell she was.
How long had he been planning this to be so well prepared?
From the time Randy Trevor started working for her dad, his gaze had followed Dove whenever she was in the lab with him. Her first impression was a normal grad student looking for a good reference on his resume. She’d taken his attention as a complement. But deep down, something told her this wasn’t the kind of guy she wanted to be alone with. Nothing she could pin-point exactly, just that inner voice warning her away from him.
He seemed to get on well with her dad and Dove hadn’t wanted to disrupt the work they were doing just because of an uncomfortable feeling. Randy was, after all, her dad’s assistant. Not hers.
She’d tried to keep it friendly. She did have to work in the same room with the man most days. But she continued to look for any means to distance herself from him.
When Mary Cullen called her to offer the temporary Xi Force position, it had been the perfect excuse. And reconnecting with John had been a nice bonus. Funny the difference in the two men.
Randy, who at first glance came across so normal. John, so obviously different. Yet it was John she wanted to spend time with. That she felt safe with.
The weeks away from Randy had been good.
At least for her.
Had the distance caused Randy to totally flip out?
The morning of the third day after her kidnapping, sitting on a kitchen chair in yet another one of his houses along whatever route they were taking, he tied her hands together and duct taped her mouth as he always did before loading her into the trunk. She’d tried strugglin
g, pleading, getting angry. Nothing had cracked his cold, calm, menacing demeanor.
She’d avoided going over the line and possibly getting tranquilized again. She’d been stunned when he actually fired at her that morning. She’d passed out, only to wake hours later in the trunk with a pounding headache.
Not fun.
Helpless, she sat waiting for him to pick her up. But he didn’t. Instead he drew his gun. “Sorry.”
Shit. The only thing worse than being helpless, was being helpless and unconscious.
The dart pricked her skin, her head whirled, then everything went black.
~ ~ ~
The Xi Force assembly in their ready room gave Wylde the chance to confront Aaron and force him to do something to rescue Dove. Tension crackled between them. The man had never warmed to Wylde’s inclusion on the team.
Aaron crossed his arms. “We don’t even know for sure that she’s there.”
“She’s there, or she soon will be. Port told me that himself. This is part of some Red Guard scheme. We need to go now.” Wylde stood his ground. He refused to wait another day.
Scowling, Aaron shook his head. “A secret mission on Russian soil? You know I can’t authorize that. Besides, the man’s a criminal. He could be lying to draw us off on some wild goose chase.”
Reactions were mixed around the conference table.
Mouth pursed tightly, Mary drummed her fingers on the table. Beside her Kayla nudged Joel with her shoulder.
Joel cleared his throat. “But Xi Force members are civilian contractors. There’s nothing stopping Wylde from going on his own, or the rest of us helping him.”
Joel had to be conflicted. Aaron and he had been partners in the FBI for years before coming to Xi Force. That Joel was taking Wylde’s side was heartwarming.
Of course, even if he had been under some kind of contract, Wylde wouldn’t have let a piece of paper stand between him and saving Dove. But it was nice to know Joel was backing him because he still needed to figure out how he was going to get into northern Siberia.
Wylde Page 4
