Hunted (Riley Cray)

by A. J. Colby

  Holbrook stepped up beside me to lay a gentle hand on my elbow. “Riley...you don’t have to do this.”

  “Let her be,” Dr. Cole said.

  Looking up, I found her standing on the other side of the exam table, her face bearing an expression that I could only assume was a reflection of mine. She knew what I was feeling, understood the depth of sadness I felt for this young man who had suffered a senseless death for me, because of me.

  Does she always feel that emptiness when she watches the endless parade of lives cut too short cross her table? Does she talk to them, uttering a few last words of comfort to their spirits?

  Answering her sad smile with one of my own I ran my fingers through Nicholas’s hair one last time, and then drew in a deep breath through my nose. I was instantly bombarded with a thousand scents, each one with its own story to tell.

  “Are you getting anything?” Holbrook asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I answered slowly, struggling to pick up anything beyond the caustic stink of cleaning fluids.

  Resettling my feet, I let the first trickles of the wolf’s energy weave through my consciousness, further heightening my senses. My vision sharpened, details shifting into stark relief, as my eyes changed to the wolf’s gold. I could hear the steady drip of a leaky faucet in the room next door and the heavy breaths of a couple going at it in a broom closet down the hall, no doubt seeking to escape the grim reality they witnessed every day for a few blessed moments.

  Leaning in as close to the body as I could stomach, I sucked in another deep breath, letting the air roll across my tongue, tasting the scents. Sifting through the varied chemicals used to clean his body, I delved deeper, envisioned the assorted scents in my mind as a tangled web that had to be picked apart to reveal each strand.

  It was faint at first, like the barely remembered fragments of a dream. Closing my eyes I drew another breath, zeroing in on the hot copper and spice smell that I associated with my wolf’s scent. Samson’s was different from mine, it held a sour note, somehow managing to hint at the wrongness in his mind. The longer I focused on it the stronger the scent became, searing itself into my memory, never to be forgotten.

  “It’s him,” I said, sure of my words as I opened my eyes. “It’s Samson.”

  Whatever Dr. Cole saw in my face when I raised my head caused an expression of startled surprise to ripple across her features, her eyes widening.

  Releasing the wolf’s energy, I willed her to sink back down into the dark places inside. For a moment I felt as if my head had been stuffed with cotton, the room appearing dimmer and my hearing muffled as I adjusted to the loss of her heightened senses.

  “You’re sure?” Holbrook asked, tapping out a quick message on his cell phone.

  “Positive. It was Samson alright. He’s getting closer.”

  “Shit,” he hissed, finishing typing out the message and then lifting the phone to his ear. “Marge? It’s Holbrook. I need to speak to Santos. It’s urgent.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I said, smiling sadly at Dr. Cole as Holbrook stalked out into the hallway, irritation echoing in his footsteps.

  * * *

  I was still shaken when we got back to the hotel, the grimness of it all weighing heavily on my shoulders. Ignoring the curious looks from the hotel staff and guests as I was herded through the lobby by my entourage, I gratefully stepped into the quiet of the elevator, closing my eyes and resting my head back against the cool mirrored wall.

  I was no stranger to death, or the brutality that one man can exact upon another, but it hadn’t made it any easier to look at the young man laid out in Dr. Cole’s morgue. I couldn’t decide if the clinical, emotionless atmosphere had made his death easier to process. If anything, it was almost harder to witness him in such a cold and sterile environment, with no one there to mourn his passing except Holbrook, the doctor, and me. Holbrook and Dr. Cole were good people, dedicated to their work, but they were jaded towards the death of innocents, they didn’t feel it in the same visceral way I did. Or maybe they did, and were just better at hiding it.

  Opening my eyes just enough to watch the elevator’s other occupants, I studied Holbrook. At first glance he appeared unaffected by our little jaunt into Death’s domain, but the flexing muscle in his jaw and the tightness around his eyes hinted at the anger and sadness that warred within him.

  I guess it did get to him too.

  Casting a look at the other agents to make sure that none of them were looking in our direction, I reached out to twine my fingers through Holbrook’s, gently squeezing his hand. Turning his head just a fraction to look at me, he squeezed back but didn’t smile. After what we had seen that morning, I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel like smiling again either.

  The elevator chimed merrily when we reached our floor, and a split second before the door opened Holbrook disentangled his fingers from mine. I won’t deny that it stung a little, a seed of rejection taking root in the middle of my chest, but I knew that wasn’t his intention. As Johnson had so graciously reminded everyone the previous day, their job was to protect me, and that was it. Whatever was happening between us was against the rules, and while I didn’t give a flying rat’s ass what anyone else thought, I knew that Holbrook didn’t have the same luxury.

  After all, it isn’t my ass that’s on the line if the muckity-mucks find out.

  “And on that cheery note,” I muttered under my breath, following my bodyguards out of the elevator.

  “Hmm?” Holbrook asked, the slump of his shoulders making him look as morose as I felt.

  “Nothing, just still a little queasy after earlier,” I replied, forcing a lackluster smile.

  “Go get some rest. I have some paperwork to do and calls to make, but Collins and Hill will be right outside your door.”

  Thing 1 and Thing 2 are on guard duty again. Oh, joy.

  “Great,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. Judging by the looks I received I’d failed miserably.

  Ah, fuck it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I STILL COULDN’T get the stink of the morgue out of my nose by the time I got back to my room. Even Loki didn’t approve, wrinkling his nose and letting out a disapproving meow when I flopped down on the bed next to him.

  “You’re right. A shower would be a great idea,” I said, scratching him behind the ears before pushing my tired body up from the bed and walking into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes along the way.

  The water was just shy of scalding when I stepped under the spray, a long sigh of relief slipping out of me when I tipped my head back under the water. For several blessed moments I just let it sluice over me, washing away the stench of dead flesh and chemicals. I didn’t step out of the shower until I had all but scrubbed my skin raw, making sure to erase any lingering traces of the morgue, before donning the fluffy hotel robe.

  I wonder if housekeeping will notice if it happens to go missing.

  Brushing my teeth and taking the time to run a comb through my tangled hair I was starting feel somewhat human again. The prospect of calling up some room service, finding a mindless reality show on TV, and snuggling into the big bed with Loki sounded like absolute bliss.

  “So what do you think buddy, room service for lunch? We might as well get the FBI to spring for lunch if we’re stuck here, right?” I called as I emerged from the bathroom, squeezing the last of the water from my hair with a towel. He didn’t answer, but I wasn’t surprised. Most of the conversations since my fuzzy roommate wandered into my life had been pretty one-sided.

  Dropping the damp towel on the floor and sitting cross-legged on the side of the bed I snagged the room service menu from the bedside table, glancing over the hotel’s offerings. After everything I’d been through since waking up that morning I was in the mood for something sweet, chocolaty and oozing caramel to chase away the gruesome memories. The wolf on the other hand wanted red meat, barely warm and bloody.

  Deciding that the better part of valor was to appease everyone’s ne
eds I settled on a bacon cheeseburger, rare of course, with a giant helping of French fries and a caramel drizzled brownie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. I’d likely spend the rest of the night twitching from the sugar rush, but I didn’t care. Fluffing my damp curls I picked up the phone and hit the room service button.

  “Did you want some milk, Loki?” I asked my lurking companion. When he didn’t answer I gave the room a cursory glance, wondering where the furry little butthead was hiding.

  “Good afternoon, how can I assist you?” a cheery voice said in my ear.

  “Hi, I want to order some room service,” I answered, leaning across the bed to peer over the edge, trying to ignore the bitter seed of worry taking root in my stomach.

  “And what can we get you this afternoon?”

  “Umm...a bacon cheeseburger...rare...” I said, turning to look around the rest of the room.

  That was when I realized the door to my room was open, and I was alone.

  If I hadn’t already been sitting down I would have ended up on my ass as the world dropped out from beneath me, stealing my breath and causing me to reach for the nightstand to steady myself. I wasn’t sure how long the cheery-voiced woman had been trying to get my attention before her voice cut through the numbing fog in my mind.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you there?”

  “He’s gone...” I started to answer, my words trailing off, but I was already forgetting about her again. Leaping up from the bed I let the phone slip from my slack fingers.

  “Loki? Where are you, buddy?” I asked, dropping down to my hands and knees to search under both beds, the small desk, behind the curtains, anywhere and everywhere he might have been hiding, even though I already knew the gut-wrenching truth.

  He was gone.

  Pausing only long enough to pull on my dirty clothes and boots, I raced out into the hallway, unnerved by the silence of the empty floor. There was already something creepy about having an entire floor of the hotel to myself, the agents my only company. Yet as I looked around I realized that the usual contingent of agents was absent except for a single man standing at bored attention beside the elevator. I vaguely recognized him as I approached, but couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard his name mentioned.

  These guys need to come with nametags or something.

  His dark eyes narrowed at my approach, regarding me with professional disinterest.

  “Have you seen Loki?” I asked, my hands trembling as I fought off the impending panic attack.

  “Who?” the agent I thought might have been called Jacobs or Jackson asked, frowning down at me.

  “Loki. My cat.”

  My anger flared when he began to smirk, the roll of his eyes letting me know just how much of a silly little girl he thought I was. Seeing the snarl curling my lip back from my teeth he schooled his expression back into one of professional detachment, but the derision remained clear.

  “No, ma’am. I have not seen your cat.”

  “What about the other agents? Where is everyone? Maybe someone saw something.”

  “They’re in a strategy meeting.”

  I thought it was an odd time for a meeting, but then again, I’d never had what you’d consider a real job, so what the hell did I know? “Well, can you go fetch someone and see if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I’m not permitted to leave my post.”

  Riled by his refusal to be of any assistance, my hands clenched into fists, but I resisted the urge to acquaint them with his clean shaven face.

  “Thanks so much for your help,” I spat before I spun on my heel and stormed back to my room, slamming the door shut behind me with enough force to make it rattle in the door frame.

  Making a beeline for my backpack, I upended it over the bed, searching through its contents for Holbrook’s business card.

  “Come on, where the hell is it?” I muttered as I sifted through half empty tubes of lip gloss, pens, sticks of gum that were hard as a rock, and a handful of crumpled tissues. A jolt of relief stabbed into my chest when my fingers closed around the bent card. Retrieving the phone from where I had dropped it on the floor, I punched in his cell number and waited, tapping my foot on the floor, as it rang. And rang. And rang.

  Growling in frustration when his warm, drawling voice clicked on in the prerecorded message, I waited for him to finish saying “Please leave me a message.”

  “Where the hell are you? Loki is missing and there’s no one around. I’m seriously losing my shit here. You guys are supposed to be protecting me so where the fuck is everyone? I...I have to go. I have to find him.”

  My hand shook when I set the phone down in the cradle, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Wolfie.”

  Stuffing one of the room keys into the back pocket of my jeans I sucked in a deep breath, making sure that I could pick up a trace of Loki’s familiar scent. He smelled of warm sunshine and lush green things. The scent strengthened as I drew on the wolf’s energy, solidifying into an almost physical thread that I could wrap my fingers around to pull myself along in his wake. Sure that I had a firm grasp on his trail I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

  Loki’s scent led me in the opposite direction of the elevators and their surly guard, towards the stairs.

  Where the hell is he going? I wondered as I tracked him to the fire door leading into the stairwell.

  I was nearly blind with panic, but still had the wherewithal to ponder how he’d gotten out of my room, and why he would have gone to the stairwell. Driven forward by my visceral need to make sure that my best friend was safe, I hit the door at a jog, slamming my hands into the release bar and pushing it open. I stood on the landing long enough to be sure that his scent led downwards before propelling myself after him. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the sound of my footsteps as I pounded down the concrete steps.

  How did he even get in here?

  Taking the steps two and three at a time I let the wolf’s strength and stamina carry me forward at a whirlwind pace. I passed a guilty looking housemaid sneaking a cigarette in the stairwell but paid her no mind, locked on to Loki’s trail that continued down to the first floor. Following Loki’s scent out of the stairwell into the lobby I stumbled to a halt, overcome by the sounds and scents from dozens of people bustling to and fro. Spinning around in a dizzying circle I fought to keep a hold of Loki’s fading thread, the passage of a multitude of feet crisscrossing over its path rapidly muddling the scent.

  A passing bellhop pushing a cart laden with luggage eddied the air, circulating the scents at my feet. Catching Loki’s sunny scent again I darted after it like a kitten after string, following it out the revolving door and onto the sidewalk. Somewhere behind me someone was calling my name, but I couldn’t stop, I had to chase the thread before I lost it again.

  Biting cold wind flowed through the thin fabric of my shirt, chilling my skin and freezing my still damp hair into stiff curls. Loki’s winding path led along the front of the building and down a side alley. Halfway down the alley, amongst the dumpsters his scent finally disappeared, lost amongst the stink of rotten garbage and car exhaust.

  “No, no, no, no,” I chanted, fisting my crispy hair as I spun in frantic circles, tears already rising in my eyes as panic and loss fought for dominance in my chest.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I HEARD THE scuff of a footfall on the wet pavement a second before I caught the scent of cigarettes and sweat, but it was already too late. Something solid and heavy struck me across the back of the head, my vision wavering as I fell down to my hands and knees, grit from the pavement grazing my palms. I struggled to get back up, fighting through the dark spots dancing across my eyes, but a sharp kick to my ribs took me down to the ground, my breath rushing out of me in a rasping wheeze. Wetness from the dirty slush soaked through my jeans and shirt, freezing my skin and covering me in the stink of garbage and road dirt.

&nb
sp; “Stupid wolf bitch,” someone snarled seconds before another kick was delivered to my stomach, driving the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping for air like a grounded fish.

  My lungs burned with the need for oxygen and yet I couldn’t seem to make them move. My fingers curled in the slushy garbage juice, scrabbling at the pavement beneath me as I willed my lungs to move. A sharp kick to my shoulder worked to kick-start my breathing, a rasping breath flooding my lungs with cold air that seemed to burn all the way down to my gut.

  The smell of vomit hit me a moment later, sour and acidic. It took me a second to realize that the puke was my own. I tried to get my hands under me, to lever myself up but it didn’t seem like they wanted to cooperate, barely managing to lift me off the pavement before the shiny toe of a shoe collided with the edge of my jaw. The steel grey clouds flashed by overhead as my head ricocheted back against the pavement, my skull reverberating with the impact. I felt my lip split open and blood filled my mouth, and for a moment I wondered if all of my teeth were still intact.

  “Why won’t you stay down, you dumb cunt?” the man looming over me demanded, his face lost in the sparkles skipping across my vision, though the ashtray smell clinging to him was all too familiar.

  Johnson. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like the portly asshole.

  “Fuck you...asshole,” I sputtered, spitting blood and vomit at his shoes in defiance. I missed by a mile but it’s the thought that counts, right?

  A growl of impotent rage was all he uttered in reply, opting instead for a little nonverbal communication. By the time he was done treating my ribs like a soccer ball, I was pretty sure he’d cracked a couple, my breath coming in short gasps that sent burning fingers of pain through my chest.

  That’s gonna leave a mark.

  Determined not to let Johnson take me down, I tried to push myself up to my hands and knees, settling instead for my knees and one elbow as I was forced to wrap one arm around ribs that I was quickly beginning to think were broken.