The corner of Damek’s mouth turned up slightly. Quinn couldn’t quite call it a grin, but he sensed the vampire’s amusement.
Damek cocked an eyebrow at Isaiah. “Really, you Striker brothers are very possessive. It’s rather annoying. But you do have exquisite taste in women.”
“We need your help.” Isaiah’s voice was low and guttural.
“So you said.”
Quinn decided it was time for him to make his presence known. “I need your help.”
Damek turned toward him and Quinn felt pinned by the vampire’s black stare, felt dark tentacles of power reaching inside him to his very thoughts and memories. He slammed the door on his mind, desperately trying to shut out the invasion. A cold sweat broke out on his skin and his heart began to pound. His wolf stirred inside him and with it the primitive urges of fight or flight. He did neither. By strength of will alone, he fought his very basic nature, straightened his shoulders and met Damek’s penetrating gaze.
The creature casually strolled toward him, a wave of menace rolling before him. “I know you.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “You were involved in that debacle last fall.”
“You knew I was there.” His voice was steady and sure.
“Hmm.” The humming sound was Damek’s only reply.
Quinn took that as a yes. At the time he’d felt as though the vampire had sensed his presence but had let Quinn go for reasons only he understood. It had never once occurred to him that the person he was going to meet tonight might be the powerful vampire he’d encountered last fall.
He honestly didn’t know all that much about the species. All his efforts while he’d been growing up had been focused on understanding what was happening to himself and his sister. After Chris had disappeared, he’d been hell-bent on finding her. If he was going to be working with a vampire he wanted to know everything there was to know about the species. He’d set Craig to work on unearthing details as soon as Damek was done. Knowledge was power and Quinn needed every edge he could get with the powerful male. If there was anything to find online about Damek and others like him, his brother would unearth it.
“Tell me,” Damek demanded.
Quinn ignored the arrogance of the command, knowing he needed Damek’s help. He swallowed his pride and gave a quick recounting of his childhood, of growing up knowing he and his sister were different and how they’d tried to live a normal life.
“I don’t know why they took her. Or who. How they knew she was different.” That question frustrated him most of all. They’d always been careful, keeping to themselves as much as possible. They’d gone to regular school until they’d hit puberty and then they’d been homeschooled, basically doing it themselves while their mother worked.
Craig had been the only other person to know what they were. And Quinn trusted Craig without question. “At first we thought she might have been taken by some crazy human, some sick psychopath. But she’s strong and smart. She would have escaped if that was the case. I know she would have.”
“How old was Chris when she was kidnapped?” Damek’s question made Quinn frown. What did that have to do with anything?
“Twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Why?”
“Fuck.” Quinn glanced over at Isaiah who spat out the oath. “Ah, I’m not sure how much you know about females of the species, but Chrissten was at the age where she’d go into heat for the first time. If that happened, any male wolf getting within twenty feet of her would have smelled her and gone right for her. You wouldn’t have been affected by it because you’re her sibling.”
Quinn felt as though he’d been hit up the side of the head with a two-by-four. All those months he’d wasted on the hunters, thinking they must have found out what she was and taken her. He’d never once considered some horny werewolf might have abducted her. That would explain why Chris had acted so strangely in the few months before she went missing. She’d kept to herself more and had become quieter, shrugging her shoulders and putting him off whenever he asked her what was wrong.
Quinn threw back his head and howled, the mournful sound echoing off the walls. His head was pounding and the urge to kill someone, anyone, was ripping him apart. He felt his hands disappear and powerful claw-tipped paws appear. His jaw cracked, the bones elongating. His vision went flat. His wolf wanted out. He wanted to hunt. To kill.
Isaiah grabbed him by the back of his neck and shook him. Quinn lunged at the older male, but Isaiah punched him on the side of his head. “Snap out of it.”
Quinn desperately sought reason within a mind gone dark with vengeance. His thoughts spun round and round like a carnival ride out of control. Chris had been taken because she was in heat. That wasn’t something he even wanted to think about in regards to his sister. He worked hard at not thinking about the horrors his twin must be going through and mostly he succeeded. But now there was nothing to blunt the sharp edges of his fury and pain. What she must be suffering. Unimaginable. Unacceptable.
Isaiah shook him again and Quinn fought the urge to attack. If it had been anyone else, Quinn might not have succeeded. But Isaiah understood what it was like to lose a sister. And he was right. He was of no use to Chris like this.
Grabbing on to the tattered remnants of his control, he willed the wolf to recede. There would be time enough for the wolf to vent its fury when he found his enemies. For now, he needed to concentrate on finding Chris. And that would take a calm, cold, calculating mind.
His bones snapped and reformed. As the anger fled out of him shame replaced it. Chris was suffering who knows what at the hands of some crazy male wolf. He owed it to her to keep his head on straight and his mind on business.
Damek was watching him carefully, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I will ask around and see what I can discover.”
“That’s it?” The words jumped out of Quinn’s mouth before he could stop them.
“That’s quite a lot,” came the biting reply.
He shoved his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, searching for calm. “Sorry about that. I’ll take any help you can give me.”
“Yes, you will.” It sounded more like a threat to Quinn’s ears than a promise. Maybe it was both. He didn’t care. All he wanted was his sister back home safe and sound.
“Thank you.” Craig came to stand beside him. His brother’s gaze was steady and curious as he studied Damek.
“And you are?”
Craig stuck out his hand. “Craig Lawton, Quinn’s brother. And the only human in the room.”
Damek glanced down at Craig’s hand and slowly took it. “You’re brave for a human.”
Craig shook his head. “Not really. I’m simply grateful for any help you can give us. I want my sister back.”
“And what will you give me in payment for that help?”
Quinn growled at Damek’s question, feeling the threat toward the only other member of his family. Craig simply met Damek’s hard stare, unflinchingly. “Anything you want.”
There was no doubting the sincerity in Craig’s words. Damek gave his brother that enigmatic half-smile he’d given Quinn earlier. “I believe you mean it.”
He whirled away too fast for Quinn to track. “I’ll do some checking around and get back to you.”
With that he was gone, leaving nothing more than an open door and a lingering scent of ancient, dark power in his wake.
Chrissten knew she was in a vehicle. She could feel the vibration beneath her body as it sped down a road. She had no idea where they were going. The metal floor was cold against her cheek and she shivered.
She tried to move her arms and legs but they wouldn’t cooperate. Metal clanked and scraped and her limbs felt heavy. She opened her eyes and looked down to discover she was shackled in manacles that were coated in silver to weaken her. She also had a vague memory of the doctor shooting her full of tranquilizers. Her stomach was queasy and she was afraid she might vomit. If that wasn’t bad enough, her head was pounding like a drum in a heav
y-metal band.
The only thing she knew for sure was that Bethany had escaped. That was good. But no one had arrived quickly enough to rescue her. Another shiver wracked her body as she remembered just how angry Brian had been when he’d found her. She remembered trying to shift and attack him. He’d hit her. Hard. Knocking her unconscious.
Then had come the hours of uncertainty as the doctor and Brian had packed up the lab and research. She’d known they were getting ready to leave and she’d prayed for help to arrive, but it hadn’t. Chrissten would never know how close rescue might have been.
Bethany hadn’t had any money when she escaped. She was also weak and frightened. Chrissten knew she might have wandered for hours before she’d managed to find anyone to help her. That’s if she even attempted to. Everything that happened had been so crazy that Bethany might decide it was all a drug-induced dream. But even then she’d probably go to the cops.
That hope had faded by the time Brian had come to her cell. She’d been drugged, chained, wrapped in a blanket and dropped in the back of a vehicle.
She listened hard over the hum of the engine, but no one was talking. The only bit of information she’d managed to glean earlier was the doctor didn’t want to leave the immediate area. He wanted to try to reacquire Bethany.
A lone tear rolled down her cheek. Chrissten didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She was slowly losing herself as each day passed. The urge to fight was dying inside her every time Brian raped her or the doctor prodded and tested her like she was of no more value than a lab rat. And, to him, she supposed she wasn’t. The minute she stopped being useful they’d kill her.
In her mind, she reached out for her twin, hoping to find some connection, some link. There was nothing.
The drug pulled at her consciousness and she didn’t fight it. Not this time.
She let it drag her into the darkness where she felt safest.
Bethany woke with a startled cry. She was rolling to her feet, ready to defend herself before she was fully awake. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. She blinked twice and her racing heart began to calm.
The shelter. She was at a homeless shelter in Chicago. She could hear the snores and deep breathing of the five other women sleeping in the dormitory-style room.
She slowly sank back down onto her cot and rubbed her hands over her face. Her memories were a confused jumble of images and impressions. After she’d escaped, Bethany realized she couldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe her crazy story. She couldn’t go home to Detroit either. Obviously, the good doctor and Brian knew where she lived.
She’d escaped, but found herself in an unfamiliar city with no money for food, clothing, transportation or shelter. It was April, but it was still cold and she’d been wearing only a thin cotton top and pants. She needed clothing, food and money.
The only place Bethany knew to get those things with few questions being asked was a homeless shelter. She knew all about them and how they worked. When she was a child, she and her mother had used them many times. She’d made a vow when she was eighteen and working her first full-time job that she’d never end up at one again, but she’d had no choice. Pride had no place in her decision, not with Chrissten’s life in danger.
She’d wandered through the city for a half a day, faint with hunger, heart pounding with fear, asking strangers on the street for help. Most walked away without answering her while some pointed in a vague direction as they hurried on their way. Several times she’d had to run for her life from men who’d thought her an easy target. Finally, one kind woman had directed her to this shelter.
It was small and overcrowded, but that helped her avoid too many unwanted questions. They’d fed her, tended her injured hands and given her clean clothing. She’d intended to rest for a few minutes to regain her strength before trying to find someone to help her. Instead, she’d fallen into bed and slept far longer than she’d planned, if the darkness outside was any indication.
“How could you?” she muttered, angry with herself for her weakness. Chrissten was still being held captive. She needed help and hours and hours had gone by without Bethany looking for any. The shock, exhaustion and hunger had obviously muddled her. If she’d been thinking properly the first thing she would have done the moment she’d arrived was use the phone at the shelter to contact Chrissten’s brother. Instead she’d allowed them to feed her and tend to her injuries.
She had a vague memory of asking to use the phone and being told she couldn’t use it. Security reasons. They would gladly call the police if she wanted but she’d quickly declined their offer. They also restricted the use of cell phones and had an unlisted, blocked number. They didn’t want some woman calling her abusive ex during a weak moment and telling him where the shelter was. That was dangerous for all of them. She’d get supervised phone privileges once she’d been here twenty-four hours.
Still, she should have insisted. Pleaded. Done whatever she’d needed to do.
There was no turning back the clock but it was past time to act. She’d call Chrissten’s brother. If that didn’t work, she’d have to swallow her doubts and fears and contact the police. She had to do something.
It was no good to castigate herself about her lack of effort. Her body and mind had been at the end of their endurance. She’d been physically unable to keep going. Hunger and exhaustion had taken their toll, forcing her to rest.
But it was time to start paying her debt to her friend.
Bethany reached for the pair of jeans that were folded neatly on the chair next to her cot. They were faded and used, but comfortable and much warmer than the thin cotton pants she’d been wearing. Since she was already wearing her new underwear and a long-sleeved shirt it didn’t take her long to get dressed. She tugged on her canvas sneakers and grabbed the fleece jacket the director of the shelter had given her.
Just thinking about the woman brought a smile to Bethany’s face. Margaret Montgomery was a large, dark-skinned woman with a big voice and an even bigger heart. She’d prodded and gently bullied Bethany into a hot shower and clean clothes and pushed her to eat a hot meal.
Margaret was a no-nonsense woman who wanted to help everyone who crossed her path. Bethany would always be thankful for the help she’d gotten at the Angel of Hope Shelter and hoped to repay that kindness someday when she was back on her feet.
She glanced out the window into the darkened street below. It was night. That was good. Everyone else was asleep. Keeping as quiet as possible, Bethany crept from the room and down the stairs to the offices below. She needed to find the phone.
She sensed a person near the front entrance as she eased around the bend in the stairwell. Bethany could see clearly into the office through the open door. Margaret sat in a battered leather chair, snoring softly. Damn. Didn’t the woman ever go home? Using the office phone would be impossible with her sleeping right next to it.
She’d have to search for another phone and if she couldn’t find one here she’d have to leave the shelter.
Bethany continued down the stairs, placing her feet carefully on each tread. She’d almost reached the last stair when the bottom of her right foot hit the wood and the resulting squeak split the quiet of the night.
Margaret stirred. Bethany held her breath and waited until the other woman finally seemed to settle. She carefully continued down the stairs and paused, trying to remember the layout of the rooms. It was all fuzzy. She’d been so exhausted when she’d reached the shelter she hadn’t paid much attention.
“We don’t keep money on the premises.” Margaret’s voice brought Bethany up short. She was good and caught. Then the director’s words registered and made her frown.
“I’m not going to steal anything. I need to use the phone.”
Margaret pushed out of her chair and stood. She studied Bethany with knowing brown eyes. Bethany had to struggle not to squirm. Margaret’s eyes were filled with the kind of knowledge that came from the school of hard knocks, yet th
ey were also filled with compassion. She shook her head. “I can’t quite figure you out. You’re not a street person. You don’t have the look of one. You’re not a druggie.”
“No, ma’am,” Bethany agreed.
Margaret smiled. “And you got manners too. But you’ve had a hard time of it for sure.” She hesitated, chewed on her bottom lip and finally nodded. She motioned toward her desk. “Go ahead. Use the phone.”
Bethany sidled toward it and looked at Margaret, wondering how she could ask for some privacy. She didn’t want anyone else to hear what she had to say. That could quickly land her in the mental ward of a hospital.
Once again, the other woman seemed to understand what she needed. “I’m going to make myself a cup of tea.” She started out of the room, but paused at the last second. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Bethany found herself smiling. Margaret was a force of nature. She didn’t think any of the women staying here wanted to disappoint her in any way. She hadn’t observed much of what went on in the shelter, but she’d seen enough to know the director was respected by one and all, staff and clients alike.
This was the moment of truth. Bethany could walk away now and forge a new life for herself somewhere else. It would be so easy to do. If she made this phone call there was no going back. She’d be crossing a line over which there was no return.
Werewolves. They were out there. She knew that now. And she was about to make her first contact.
Knowing there was really only one choice she could make, Bethany picked up the receiver and dialed the number Chrissten had made her memorize.
Chapter Two
The phone rang twice before it occurred to Bethany that the middle of the night might not be the best time to call anyone asking for help, especially not with the crazy story she had to tell. “Damn.” She thought about hanging up but she was committed now. She tightened her hand around the receiver.
“Yeah.” The voice was male and hoarse with sleep.
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