High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “What on earth are you doing back here?” Oliver asks as he steps out of the freezer.

  At least it’s not Jason Dahl. He wouldn’t hesitate to physically incapacitate me, and I really wanted to avoid a supernatural international incident. Assaulting werewolf royalty would qualify. On the ride over I tried to work out what I’d do when faced with Adrian’s guard. I was going to try and lie my way through, saying that Chandler ordered him back to the hospital or to the hotel. That won’t work here. I got nothing.

  “I asked, what are you doing here, Agent Alexander?” Oliver asks again, harsher this time.

  “I…Patsy called me. She wants to exchange Will for Adrian.”

  My friend stares at me. “When did she phone?”

  “About fifteen minutes ago. She’s going to call me back anytime, and I need to have him. She’ll want to speak to him.”

  Oliver strides toward the door. “The others are—”

  “No! No, you can’t tell them. I have to go alone. She made that very, very clear,” I say, fear tingeing every word.

  “I do not care what she said. There is absolutely no way you are meeting a pack of murderous werewolves alone.”

  “You don’t understand. She—”

  “No, you do not understand,” he says sharp as a knife. “You are terrified, you are grievously injured, and you are not in your right mind. The moment you arrive, they will kill you without a moment’s hesitation. All for a man who—” He ceases talking to fume in silence.

  “‘A man who?’ Go on. Finish your thought.”

  “A man who…may not even wish to be saved. May even fight against the very idea.”

  I let those words infect the room with their poison. The thought had crossed my mind, but to hear it spoken aloud? My already tender stomach tightens. “So I should just what? Let her keep him? Let her continue to rape him as the best case scenario?”

  “No, I am absolutely not suggesting that,” Oliver spews as if I’ve accused him of killing Will himself. I think I’ve truly offended him. “But it is a real possibility you will be facing four hostile werewolves not three, and in your current condition, you could not fend off a pixie let alone a feral pack. And regardless of your physical state…if Will is a threat, I do not believe you capable of doing what may be necessary.” He pauses. “What even he would want you to do.” Oliver slowly moves toward me as those words penetrate. “Trixie, I am asking you to trust us. Trust me. There is no need, none, for you to be alone in this. For this to be your burden alone. Just please, my darling, please trust me.” Oliver takes my good hand in his cold ones and gazes into my eyes. “Please,” he whispers through gritted teeth.

  As I stare into those exquisite gray eyes, so sincere, so pained, I want to burst into tears. I want to lean against him and have him hold me as I sob my terror and misery away. I love Will, I do, but this man has always, always made me feel safe. My oasis in the storm. My bedrock. And despite everything, despite his fury in the past few days and my poisoned words from before, deep down I don’t doubt his feelings for me. I don’t doubt the lengths he’d go for me because they’re the exact same lengths I’d go for him. He’s proven himself time and time again. I trust him. And if this was just me, just my life, I wouldn’t hesitate. But it’s not. “I trust you Oliver, with my life,” I whisper. “I do.” The smile forming on his face quickly hardens along with the rest of him. Every limb locks in place, held still by my will. “I just don’t trust you with his. I’m sorry.”

  “Trixie, let me go,” Oliver warns.

  I hold onto him, as I back toward the open freezer. “I am sorry.”

  “Trixie, stop this. Let me go. You are not thinking clearly. Stop!” In my brain, I sense his struggle against my invisible bonds. “Trixie! Help! Hel—”

  I squeeze his throat until the noise stops. “I’m sorry.”

  Needing to keep my eyes on him to concentrate, I lift Oliver an inch off the ground and draw his levitating body inside the cell with me. Adrian lies in bed with a pad, pen, and map on his lap. “What—”

  “Your mother sent me. I’m here to free you. Bring you to her.”

  “No. You—”

  “Look, I’m sorry for earlier. I am. And you have no reason to trust me, I get that, but trust your mother. She called and offered me my fiancée for you. Killing and harming you puts him in danger. Trust that. Now, get up. Please don’t make me make you.”

  Adrian glances from me, to the frozen vampire, back to me. He slowly does the math and after several seconds finally pushes aside the papers and blankets to climb out of bed. He winces as he removes the IV. “There should be flip-flops and a coat in the other room. Put them on. Fast.”

  Adrian pads out of the cell, past the floating vampire whose eyes follow the escaping prisoner before moving back to me, doubling their normal size and brimming with recrimination. With fear, for or of me, I don’t know. At this moment I don’t care. Oliver floats completely inside the cell, taking Adrian’s place as prisoner. As I pivot and back out of the small room, I say, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. This is the only way. I’m sorry.” I shut the door. The moment he’s out of sight, I lose the link. I slide in the bolt just as he slams against the door, rattling the eight foot tall barricade. It was built to keep in vampires and werewolves. Time to put its efficacy to the test.

  “Trixie, open the door!” Oliver bellows. “You are not in your right mind. Stop and think. This is kidnapping. Open this bloody door now!”

  No time to waste. Adrian’s slipping on Oliver’s leather jacket when I spin around, removing my gun as I do. His gaze moves to the gun trained on him. “I need you alive, but try anything and I’ll shoot you in the arm or the leg. It won’t kill you, but it hurts like a mother. Walk ahead of me. Let’s go.”

  “Beatrice, this is madness! Open the door!” Oliver shouts as he body slams the door.

  Like his mother trained him, Adrian obeys without question, trudging out of medical as fast as a middle-aged pneumatic man can with me a step behind. No one in the hallway yet, but I can still hear Oliver’s muffled yells which means the others probably can too. “Hurry.” The freezing night air amplifies my trembling when we get outside. I can barely hold the gun. “White SUV,” I instruct, teeth chattering from both the temperature and adrenaline. “Get in the back.”

  Adrian complies, though has a coughing fit from the effort. Just don’t die before we get there, douche bag. I hurry around to the driver’s side. Just have to clear the gate, and we’re home free. I slide the gun into my purse and retrieve the car keys and cuffs. Adrian’s fastening his seatbelt when I climb in. I toss him the cuffs. “Handcuff yourself to the handhold. Both hands.” I start the car. “And if you try anything, if you even look at me wrong, what I did to you before will be a paper cut compared to the agony I’ll inflict on you now.”

  “Just take me to my mother, bitch,” he spews back. He does cuff himself though. Ass.

  I put the car into gear and drive away. There are no problems at the gate either. Holy crap, I did it. I made it. I probably lost a friend and committed a felony, but I did it. I did…oh, crap. Oh, crap.

  What have I done? What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?

  I’ve been so focused on getting Adrian I didn’t plan past the grab. I’m about to face a damn pack of psychotic werewolves. I have one gun, one arm, and my power. I just assaulted my best friend. He might never forgive me. And Will…he might be…I might have to…oh God. Oh God. Have I made a huge mistake? Judging from the panic that’s making it hard to breathe again, I think I have. I—

  “Watch out!” Adrian shouts.

  Jesus Christ! I realize too late I’ve run a red light. The pick-up truck careening toward us swerves, barely missing the back of our SUV. I floor it through the intersection, ignoring the honks behind me. Hand trembling, I maneuver the car to the nearest parking lot. “Crap. Crap.” I whisper over and over again between my heavy breaths which happen in time to
my falling tears. What have I done?

  “Maybe I should drive,” Adrian says.

  Maybe I should let him. My third near-death experience in two days. That’s a lot even for me. I rest my head on the steering wheel and force the tears back. I wipe the stragglers as I take deep breaths to calm myself. I can’t fall apart now. I fall apart now, all is lost. Oh God, maybe it already is. I can’t even drive. How can I save him when I can’t even think? Can barely walk? Will needs me. He needs me, and I can’t think. I don’t think I can do this. I need a plan. I need a plan. Think. Think, damn it!

  There’s blissful silence—save for Adrian’s wheezing breath—for five minutes before my cell rings. I was so deep in thought the offending noise jolts me enough I jerk in my seat. The phone rings again before I locate it in my purse. Okay. I can do this. I have to do this. Okay. “Beatrice Alexander.”

  “I wish to speak to my son,” Patsy demands without preamble.

  Here we go. I put the phone on speaker and hold it up. “It’s her.”

  “Patsy?” Adrian asks.

  “Hello, my darling,” she says, actually relieved. “You sound dreadful. How are you feeling?”

  “About as well as I sound. You were right, it is pneumonia.”

  “I told you,” she chides. “But they took care of you?”

  “More or less,” he says, glaring at me.

  “You talked to him. I have him. Let’s get on with this. There’s a mall—”

  “I make the terms, Agent Alexander,” Patsy cuts in. “Remember? Adrian, is she alone? The others, are they with her?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t seen her contact them? There’s no one following her?”

  “No, not that I’ve seen or heard. She’s on her own.”

  “Excellent. You’ve been a good girl so far, Agent Alexander, let’s continue the trend. There’s a cabin off Route 7. I believe you know it.”

  Route 7? I don’t…oh God. A knife twists inside my heart. Not there. That bitch. Out of all the places… “I do. We’re about twenty minutes away.”

  “Remember: one whiff of anything untoward, I decorate your little love shack with his blood.”

  “I just assaulted an FBI agent and committed a dozen other felonies. I’m not going to screw this up now. But you should know, for every hair you hurt on Will’s head, I take one of your son’s limbs.”

  “Noted. See you in twenty. Ciao.” She hangs up.

  Goddamn you, Will. How could you? How could you? He told her about the cabin, our cabin. I’ve been fighting for my life, our life, and you took her to our cabin? Our bed? Maybe he’s not in there. Maybe Oliver’s right. My Will would never be that cruel. If he can do that to me…I stare down at my phone.

  “What are you waiting for?” Adrian asks in the back, snapping me out of my pity party. “Let’s go.”

  “You know, you’re very rude,” I say. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

  “She taught me to show respect when it’s earned. You haven’t earned a thimbleful.” He chuckles. Cruelly. “You don’t stand a chance against her, little girl. You know that, right? She’s going to eat you alive. Literally. And your boyfriend? He’s gonna join in the feast.”

  I stare down at my phone again. Okay. Okay. I slip the phone into my sling. “Well, if your mother tries, she’ll be dining in hell with the others who underestimated me.” I start the car. “I’m sure she’ll save you a seat.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Showdown at

  Blood Moon Creek

  Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours ago I was in this very spot of the wide world driving down this very road beside the man I loved. The first night of a lifetime. Now I’m back here, most likely about to die at the claws of a woman he’s been screwing in our cabin for the past day. We should never have left. We should have barricaded ourselves in. Called George. Quit on the spot, and gone back to making love until we couldn’t walk for a week. Damn hindsight. Why couldn’t I have been born with clairvoyance?

  I almost miss the turn. If I had known I’d be coming back here, I would have paid more attention. All I can remember is it was off Route 7 and was the third right after the Shell gas station, the only civilization for miles. We may as well be on Venus. I loved the isolation two days ago. Tonight it’s probably gonna get me killed.

  “Did that sign say Route 7?” I ask. “It was the third right after the Shell Station?”

  “I think so,” Adrian replies.

  “It’s just down that road then on the left. A gravel road.”

  “Good to know.”

  Asphalt becomes gravel as we travel down the lonesome road. Beyond my headlights and the moon above, there’s no light, nothing but darkness, until a pinpoint in the distance grows larger. His beacon. Will. This is all going to work out. It will. I am going to get him back, we are going to drive away into the moonlight, and once we’re safe we’ll go after those bastards with the full force of the US government and werewolf community. They will not get away. But Will comes first. Nothing else matters right now but him. Nothing. Just please, please God, let me have made the right decision.

  My headlights catch sight of Jamal sitting on the porch right in the rocking chair where Will and I made love as the sun rose. Tainted. Every damn memory’s tainted now. The werewolf rises from the chair without taking his hard eyes off my face. Werewolves have good night vision. He can probably see every contour, every emotion crossing my face right now. Nerves and fear have top billing.

  I stop the car about seventy-five feet from the front door, parking but not shutting off the engine. Ideally I won’t leave this car. Adrian will get out, Will in, happy trails. Still, as Jamal moves to the front door, eyes never leaving me, I grip the gun in my lap tighter. Jamal knocks on the front door before stepping aside.

  Tim comes out the door first. Unlike what’s left of me, there’s no physical evidence he was in a car crash yesterday. Not a sandy hair out of place. Patsy follows at his back, long hair flowing around her round face. She’s positively luminous for someone on the lam. The afterglow of great sex is great for the skin. Jamal and Patsy approach the car as Tim guards the now shut door.

  “I don’t see Will,” I say.

  “I’m sure he’s inside the cabin,” Adrian replies.

  I roll down my window halfway and shout, “That’s far enough!”

  Patsy and Jamal stop twenty-five feet away. “Adrian?” Patsy shouts back.

  I roll down his window too. “Patsy?”

  “Did anyone follow you?” she asks her son.

  “I didn’t see anyone.”

  “It’s just us,” I assure her. “They’d be swarming by now if it wasn’t. Now, can we please get this over with? You’re not the only one now on the run. Where’s Will?”

  “Let my son out then—”

  “You have ten seconds to produce Will Price or I’ll reverse this SUV and you will never see your son again,” I shout. “One. Tw—”

  “No need for theatrics. Tim?” Patsy says.

  Her underling opens the cabin door, says something, and finally, finally he appears, swathed in the light inside. Oh, thank God. Thank you, God. Like with Tim there’s no evidence of trauma either from the accident or his “imprisonment.” The only indication something’s amiss is the fact his eyes remain slightly closed, as if he’s struggling to keep them open. Drugs or exhaustion, perhaps both. He’s alive. That’s all I care about. “Will!” I shout.

  That slow gaze moves my way, shielding his eyes from the headlights. I have the damn well overwhelming urge to leap out of this car and sprint into his arms and shower his face with kisses. To sob against his shoulder until I’m empty. I quash it. Just get him in the damn SUV, Bea. “Your son doesn’t leave this car until Will’s inside it. Call me crazy, but I find it hard to trust a psychopath.”

  For some reason, Patsy smirks. “Fine with me. William! Come here, lover! Come!”

&n
bsp; Still in his dazed state, he and Tim slowly meander off the porch toward their Alpha. The moment Will’s beside her, without preamble, he kisses her. Really kisses her like a thirsty man tasting water. My jaw drops, along with my stomach, as his hand moves to grope her butt and pull her into his arms. He can’t help it. He can’t help it…

  Patsy extracts herself from his grip, smiling but placing her fingers over his mouth to stop further affection. “Let me go, lover. We have business to attend to.”

  “But—” Will whines.

  “Now,” Patsy commands. Will’s arms immediately drop to his sides. “Good boy. Now, don’t be rude. Say hello to your fiancée. She came all this way to rescue you from my evil clutches.”

  “My who?” Will asks.

  Enough of this bull crap. “Will, it’s Bea. Beatrice Alexander. Get in the car,” I call.

  Will glances from me back to the smirking Patsy, almost confused and injured by my words. This simple act terrifies me enough that my heart physically seizes for a moment. No. No…

  “You want me to leave with her?” the man I love asks Patsy, each word dripping with anguish and betrayal.

  “That’s entirely up to you, lover,” Patsy replies tenderly.

  The hell it is. “Will, get in the car! Please get in the damn car!”

  “You have a choice to make, William,” she instructs while stroking his cheek. “You are absolutely free to get in that car, drive off, and marry that girl. I will not stop you.”

  “Will, get in the car!” I shout again.

  His eyes never leave Patsy for an instant. “Or you can stay here. With me. With your pack. Where nothing will ever be denied you. Where you can fulfill every one of your desires, your instincts. Where you never have to sublimate who and what you are. You are Lycan. You need to run wild, run free, feel the wind in your fur, the blood and flesh in your mouth as you crush your prey.”

  “Will, get in the car!”

  “She will never understand that. She will understand you. Not fully. She can’t. Because you are better than her, and that girl knows it. There will always be a part of her that fears you because of it. Loathes that inhuman part of you that should be celebrated, not reviled. Not by her, not by you, not by anyone. Your wolf has been shackled for too long because of people like her. She wants to lock you away in a cage of mediocrity. He could be a king, William Price, if you let him.”