by Lora Leigh
The pup was silent, unusually so. Perhaps she could feel the presence of the wolf, probably just waiting and licking her chops at the thought of a nice little Bella treat, Skye thought in amusement.
Tucking a faded blanket Logan had folded and lain along the back of the seat against the pup, Skye opened the door and hurriedly jumped out.
She tucked the Glock in the back of her jeans, pulling her shirt out over it before meeting Logan at the front of the truck and moving quickly to the opened door.
They moved too quickly.
Perhaps if they had walked slower, if they’d paid more attention—
Regret slammed into Logan as he and Skye stepped inside and they both came to a resounding stop.
“Close the door, please.” The voice was rough, guttural; was obviously disguising it, but it didn’t matter. If the gun pointing at them was any indication, then they might not need to worry about his identity.
He wasn’t very tall, barely six feet, if that tall. He was broad, though, a little on the heavy side. And there was something vaguely familiar about the set of his shoulders.
She couldn’t see his eyes; a mask covered his face and dark sunglasses covered his eyes. Most attackers with the intent to kill didn’t bother hiding their identities, she thought as she felt herself slipping automatically into the skin she’d been trained to use when facing danger.
At his feet, Crowe was sprawled, unconscious, his hands secured behind his back with heavy nylon restraints and again at his feet. The back of his head was wet, and blood had dripped to the floor.
For one horrified second Skye thanked God she and Logan had left Bella in the truck.
“Logan, don’t make me shoot you.” The gun suddenly snapped in Logan’s direction as he moved to stand in front of her. “Now, we can do this easy, or we can do this the hard way. The hard way means all of you die. The easy way means you live.”
“What do you want?” Logan’s voice was pure death. The rasp, the utterly controlled, even sound, of it sent a shiver down Skye’s back.
“Just a few things.” The gunman gestured to the computer still running at Crowe’s desk. “I won’t be much longer.”
Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled more restraints free before tossing a pair at Skye’s feet. “Put those on your boyfriend’s wrists, Miss O’Brien. They should be fairly easy to figure out.”
Thank God her cover in the bureau was buried so deep, because she knew how to put the restraints on and make them appear to be tightened correctly when they would actually be easier to work loose.
Skye picked up the restraints carefully.
“First.” The gunman stopped her. “Logan, your weapons please.”
Logan’s face tightened savagely. “I didn’t bring anything in. I wasn’t expecting Crowe to be taken so easily, and there was no time to grab my holster or backup.”
The gunman tilted his head to the side as though weighing the chances that Logan was lying. “Why did you leave in such a hurry?” he asked curiously.
“Because your shooter nearly took our fucking heads off,” Logan snapped.
Skye thought she could see the movement of brows lifting in surprise beneath the black mask. “How interesting,” the gunman mused. “But he’s not my shooter. He’s an inconvenience to me, if you want the truth.”
“That makes two of us then, doesn’t it?” Logan mocked.
The gunman chuckled. “You know, Logan, it’s a shame, because I actually like you.”
The tone of his voice, the familiarity, yes, he knew Logan, but Skye guessed she knew the gunman as well.
She was positive of it.
“Lift your shirt and turn around,” he ordered. “Let’s be certain you’re not lying.”
Lifting the shirt high enough to reveal the band of his jeans as well as the area under his arms, Logan turned slowly.
“Pant legs.” The gun waved toward his ankles.
Logan bent, lifted each pant leg, and revealed only the white socks he wore.
“Very good.” The gunman nodded then, smiling again before turning to Skye. “You can take care of it now.”
Moving behind Logan, she had to draw in a hard, deep breath as she noticed the tension in his large body. He was like a volcano ready to blow. Because he sensed what she suspected as well, that this man wasn’t at Crowe’s just to play with his computer.
He was there for something more.
“You’re not the shooter?” Logan asked as Skye slid the double-loop nylon restraints over his wrists and at the same time pulled the Glock from beneath her shirt and slid it in the waistband of his jeans, then tightened the notched closures of the restraints.
There were no locks, no keys, no way to get out of them without being completely obvious without the aid of a damned sharp knife or sturdy cutters.
Or so the gunman thought.
Her fingers gripped Logan’s for a moment before she released him, then moved to return to where she had been standing.
“You’re not done,” the gunman told her before turning to Logan and pointing to the wood table chair behind him. “Have a seat.”
Carefully, Logan sat down, always keeping his eyes on the gun and the man who held it.
“His ankles.” The gunman nodded to Skye.
Skye slid the restraints around Logan’s ankles, though she could almost guess the gunman wouldn’t check them, at least not closely.
“Put a pair on yourself. I’ll tighten them.” He smiled.
There, the slightest overbite to his teeth, barely noticeable, as well as a nick in the right corner of his front tooth that looked fairly new.
Skye fought to notice as many distinguishable traits as possible, because if she and Logan managed to get out of this alive, then she was going to kill the gunman herself.
If Logan and Crowe didn’t get to him first.
Sliding her hands into the first loop, she tucked the notched strap into position, then she stood still and silent as he moved to her.
Tucking his weapon behind his back, he gripped the strap closer and pulled it snugly before stepping back from her.
The smile that shaped his lips was terrifying.
Yes, there were definitely monsters in the dark.
“I knew the shooter would be there tonight, though,” he said as he moved back to the computer desk, laid the gun on top of it, then crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at them.
Skye could feel her heart beginning to beat hard and sluggishly, instinct slamming in her head, warning her, urging her to run.
“You’re his partner?” Logan asked, obviously trying to buy time and praying Crowe would wake up or something else would happen to give him the slightest advantage.
“No, I’m not his fucking partner,” the gunman snapped, clearly sensitive to the subject of the shooter. “That bastard. Let’s say our boss didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t find Cami or get to your little girlfriend here. He hired someone who could. Of course, if he had let me use a rifle, the job might have been done by now.”
The thick beat of her heart was about to strangle her.
“Your boss?” Logan asked, his tone darker.
“The Slasher,” the gunman answered. “Though he didn’t know I’d be here tonight, so your pretty girlfriend won’t have the pleasure of being raped by him.” He smiled at her, a slow curve of his lips before he licked them wetly. “But she still has me. As much fun as Ms. Tyme was, she was rather a dead fuck after we drugged her. I’m betting your girlfriend here is livelier.”
Skye felt the oxygen expand, then ooze from her chest, leaving nothing for her to breathe for precious seconds. The room seemed to dim, to darken, and for one horrifying second she thought she would scream.
“I’ll kill you,” Logan promised him. “I promise you, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”
The gunman shook his head as he grinned again. “No, you won’t. You haven’t yet. And by the time you have it all figured out, it will be too l
ate.”
“We’ll never leave this county if she’s hurt,” Logan snarled then. “Whatever you’re after you’ll never get it.”
He laughed at that. “Of course you will. Once Rafer sees the tortured, dead body of your girlfriend, then he’ll make certain Cami never returns. And he’ll ensure nothing hurts her. Oh yes.” He lifted a gloved finger and waved it at Logan. “Do tell Rafer to ensure she isn’t knocked up until the conditions of the trust are completely broken. If there’s an heir, I promise you, I don’t have a problem killing a child as my partner did. And I’ll actually enjoy it.”
Skye stayed perfectly still. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare react, or she knew she would shatter.
She twisted her wrists in the restraints, bending them, working at the only weakness she’d been able to provide herself in the discreet way she’d twisted them.
“I’ll enjoy killing you either way,” Logan swore as the other man began moving toward her. “Don’t fucking touch her!”
He laughed as Skye began backing away, searching desperately now for a way out, for an escape route or anything before he touched her.
When he did, she stilled.
His hands gripped her shoulders, holding her still as she stared over his, forcing herself to weigh her options, to consider her line of attack.
“How pretty,” he sighed as he brushed back a long curl that had slid over her face. “I’m going to enjoy fucking you, Skye.”
He was wearing cologne and deodorant, both scents distinctive. She had smelled them before.
“You know, I really like you too,” he told her conversationally. “I think I’ll just do it slow and easy, enjoy it. There’s no one here to tell me to hurry so they can take another turn on you. At least, not yet. Right?”
She continued to stare over his shoulder, refusing to act or to react until she knew exactly what to do. Not until she figured it out.
One second she was trying to make sense of her own thoughts as well, then she saw a glimpse of movement in the computer monitor across the room.
“You going to be a good girl and suck my dick first?” His fingers tightened in her hair and jerked her head back to stare into her eyes. “Look at me, bitch,” he sneered. “Ask nicely to suck my dick. It might keep you alive long enough for Logan to figure out he can’t get free.”
Her lips curled in a sneer. “I rather doubt you have a dick worth sucking.”
A second later her head was exploding in pain. A surprised cry fell from her lips as she flew several feet across the room, hitting the floor with jarring force.
“You bastard!” Logan screamed, the thump of the chair indicating his fury and his attempt to free himself.
“Get on your knees, whore.” Gripping her hair again he jerked her to her knees. “You can suck my dick if you want to live for a few minutes.”
It wasn’t going to happen.
He would have to kill her first.
But she had no intention of dying.
Lips tightly closed, she glared up at him.
She saw the blow coming, tried to throw herself to the side to deflect the blow, but the force of it still exploded through her and sent her crashing to the hard floor several feet away.
Still reeling from the blow, Skye lay still, trying to convince herself she was going to get through this. Eyes closed, afraid if she opened them she would pass out from the pain, she lay perfectly still, bent to protect her stomach and praying the blows went no lower.
“I said get up.” Hard hands gripped her hair again, jerking her to her knees as she struggled against him.
Each time she lifted her hands to try to lessen the grip on her hair, another blow landed against her head, until she was swaying dizzily, held on her knees by the cruel force tearing at her hair.
“Now, I said suck my dick!”
She would kill him first.
She just had to find the right opening. She had to wait until she knew she could get in the right blow. Because she would only have one chance—
*
Logan was losing his mind. He could feel it.
The small, dangerously sharp knife he kept tucked in the hem of his sleeve jabbed into his wrist again, wetting it with yet more blood as he fought to saw his way through the hard nylon securing his arms.
Skye hadn’t fully secured his ankles, but the ones at his wrists were taking too fucking long.
“Let her fucking go!” he screamed again, sawing at the nylon, the blade nicking his wrist again as another blow was delivered to her head after she was dragged to her knees.
Holding her hair with one hand, her attacker was releasing his pants with the other.
His expression was lust filled, his complete attention centered now on raping Skye rather than ensuring Logan couldn’t get free.
He was almost there. Almost.
The bastard pulled his cock free, holding it securely in his hands as he moved closer to Skye’s secured head.
As he neared her lips she suddenly moved, slamming her arms upward between his thighs and nearly putting his balls through his throat when he moved at the last minute.
Still, he howled in pain and stumbled to the floor, holding himself as he curled into a small ball for long seconds.
Just a little more, Logan prayed desperately. Please, God, keep him there just a little while longer.
Logan watched as Skye shook her head, still trying to process the feeling that her brain was completely rattled and trying to think through the pain.
She had to get Logan free. She had to find a way to stop this. God, if Logan had to see the gunman rape her, see him kill her … If her autopsy revealed what she suspected, that she was already pregnant, Logan would lose his mind.
She couldn’t allow that.
Breathing heavily, she swung her head around, searching for a weapon. She saw blood dripping to the floor by Logan’s chair. He was ready to tip over, he was struggling against the restraints so hard.
He was screaming.
She could see him screaming, but her senses had narrowed to one thing and one thing only.
A weapon.
Then reality took the strangest twist.
As she swung around and slammed into another of her attacker’s hard fists, she could have sworn she heard a dog howling.
Bella was much, much too little for that sound.
As stars exploded in Skye’s mind, the sound of glass breaking seemed to come from a distance; then she was crashing to the floor again, her head bouncing against the wood.
The sound of snarls, growls, a man’s terrified scream, and then—
She frowned, dazed, the world trying to recede.
She could swear she heard the sound of a gunshot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It wasn’t Bella howling. And it wasn’t Bella who jumped through the window.
Struggling to sit up, Skye stared at Logan as he came out of the chair, lurching for her attacker as he faced down the wolf and fired again.
Before his finger tightened on the trigger, Logan jumped, throwing his off balance but not taking him down as the wolf jumped for him as well.
She couldn’t have seen what she thought she did.
The wolf gave a sudden, bone-jarring stop before stumbling. The attacker, at first surprised, didn’t pause in the small reprieve.
In a matter of seconds he had taken a running leap, jumping through the window the wolf had taken out as Logan grabbed the gun that had been dropped and began shooting.
Training was an amazing thing, though.
A lifetime of training was even more amazing.
She couldn’t pull herself to her feet; instead, she had to drag herself to Logan.
A wolf, and that bitch was huge, too, stood over Crowe’s unconscious form, her teeth bared, snarling at all of them.
Her gold eyes seemed to reflect a haze of red as spittle dripped from her glistening fangs.
She would lower her head, push at Crowe, lick his cheek, then snarl again
as though the fact he wouldn’t wake up would be taken out of their asses.
“Logan.” She leaned her head against the coffee table as he rushed to her, his hands skimming her, quickly. “Did you see who he was?”
“No.” His breathing was harsh, his voice filled with fury. “Fuck him!”
The wolf was snarling like the hounds of hell were nipping at her furry ass.
“Son of a bitch, Crowe, wake up!” she muttered. “Shut that bitch down.”
She turned her gaze to Logan, desperate to make sure that he was safe. Blood marred his wrist, but the restraints were free and he was staring at her as though he couldn’t believe she was alive.
Hell, she couldn’t believe it herself.
Skye turned her head back to the wolf. She was lying close to Crowe now, staring at them as though daring them to come nearer.
She sighed heavily as Logan rose to his feet and moved into the kitchen. The wolf watched suspiciously.
Drawers banged, metal clanged. Seconds later, Logan was back with a pair of wire cutters and snipped the restraints from her wrists.
“We need to call someone,” she said wearily.
“I did. While we were standing there listening to his bullshit,” Logan snarled. “I was able to hit Resnova’s number, waited a minute, then disconnected and hit Archer’s.”
“Smart move.” She laid her head on his shoulder as he pulled her into his arms, his hands holding her close, smoothing up her back.
“You’re still not safe. You or Cami.” Tortured and wracked with pain, the sound of his voice tore at her heart.
“I know,” she said softly. “And the grandfathers will likely not help.”
“I couldn’t trust my own, and I know Rafer and Crowe won’t trust theirs. We have to figure out how to find him, Skye. I can’t lose you.”
A moan from the other side of the room drew her gaze.
Crowe moving.
The wolf bitch, still heavy with pups, was licking his cheek again, then lifting her head to growl back at them.
“That looks really weird, Logan,” Skye sighed as the huge black and gray animal whined at Crowe before nudging him again.
