by Cara Adams
There was the sound of smashing glass, a lot of smashing glass, and then Dominik yelled, “Let’s get the fuck out of here right now!”
Brody grabbed Flynn’s arm and hauled her to her feet. She just had time to snatch her purse up off the floor as he started pushing her toward the side wall of the room. Uwe had his arm around Damask, who was trying to tie up her hair as she was being dragged along the row of seats.
Flynn saw the men were leading them to the broken window, which opened directly out onto the street, but she didn’t like the sight of the many nasty, sharp glass shards sticking out of the frame at all sorts of angles. Being impaled on one of them was definitely not in her plans.
Uwe and Brody lifted Damask up and out through the window, then did the same to Flynn. She stepped to the side waiting for the others to join her. She could see Kiril and Dominik almost carrying Odette in their direction.
“The Alpha,” yelled Uwe, racing away from the window.
Flynn looked all around. The man whose speech had started the fight had called himself the Alpha, but hadn’t someone else used that term as well? About Mr. Vulf? There was so much happening right now she couldn’t think. Kiril pushed Odette through the window and went to climb through and join them but Odette spoke sternly. “We’ll be fine. Go and serve your Alpha.”
The tall lean man appeared through the crowd, yelling, “Get those women!”
“Oh, shit!” said Damask.
Flynn had been told to take charge, so she did. “This way.” She hurried around the building and headed for the bus stop. There was a bus approaching, not more than a hundred yards away. “Catch this bus,” she yelled and started running.
Fortunately several people got off the bus at the stop, so they made it easily onboard. Flynn bought them tickets and went to slide into a seat.
“Come down the back. By the exit,” said Odette.
“Good idea.”
This particular bus route didn’t go anywhere near her apartment, and besides, she didn’t want anyone to follow them, so she got off at a major transport interchange, and helped them catch the correct bus, before walking the last mile to her apartment.
“I’m beginning to understand why you said not to wear stilettos,” Flynn joked as they walked up the stairs to her apartment.
“Next time I’ll wear shit-kickers like Leonie instead of a dress,” added Damask.
“There will be no next time. Two fiascos out of two events is twice too many,” said Odette.
Flynn stopped dead at the top of the stairs, laid her fingers over her mouth in the universal sign for silence, and pushed the other women back into the stairwell.
Her apartment door was open.
Chapter Six
Flynn ran down three flights of stairs and over to Oscar, throwing her purse in the footwell of the passenger seat and buckling her seat belt with shaking hands. Odette and Damask tumbled together in the backseat, both of them lying down on the seat as Flynn made her way to the nearest large mall. On the way, while still driving, she opened the glove compartment and dropped her earrings and necklace inside it, pulling the clips out of her hair, and shrugging out of her jacket.
She threw the jacket over the back. “Put this on, Damask. It might change your appearance a little.”
“And tuck your hair inside it, too,” added Odette.
At the mall they parked Oscar, then caught yet another bus, this time out to the airport. “I’m sorry. Uwe said to go to the airport but it seemed simpler to go to my apartment,” she said.
“It will likely take them a while to find your car, so it’s all good,” Damask consoled her.
“Poor Oscar. I hope they don’t hurt him.”
“Oscar?”
“My car. He’s nearly as old as I am and has been very faithful.”
Odette patted her shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”
At the airport Odette took charge, buying them all tickets on the hourly commuter flight to Berlin, then buying some uninspiring tourist T-shirts for them all, and a pair of denim shorts for Damask. They disappeared into the ladies’ room and emerged wearing the new clothes, and Flynn agreed they did look different. Damask carried the shopping bag with her gold outfit and the other women’s jackets in it, and they looked like regular tourists.
In Berlin Odette bought tickets to Sofia, in Bulgaria, and again went shopping, this time buying them all peasant skirts, and a straw hat for Damask, which changed their image further. Flynn removed her stockings, mourning their loss, and again changing her hairstyle, this time tying it into a ponytail.
“I’m due at work tomorrow at eight in the morning. I swapped with Dave so I could have today off, but I really need to work tomorrow.”
“That’s not going to be possible, sweetie. I think you can safely estimate being out of circulation for a week at least,” said Odette.
“I can’t risk losing my job. I have to support myself.” Flynn’s stomach lurched. It would take her weeks, maybe even months, to find another job, and how could she support herself in the meantime? And someone was in her apartment. What if they’d trashed it and destroyed all her possessions. She really had very little worth stealing. Her iPad of course, and her television, although it was several years old now. But her only pieces of jewelry were in Oscar’s glove compartment, and she had no classy, highly salable tech gadgets.
“Don’t stress, sweetie. We’ll work it all out for you.”
Flynn wanted to believe Odette, but she was on the verge of tears. Her apartment was likely ransacked. That was a given. She’d put her earrings and neck chain in Oscar and if her car was stolen she would have nothing at all. Why had she done that instead of dropping them in her purse? She was so stupid.
By the time the flight to Sofia was called, Flynn was feeling limp and distressed. Odette bought them each a bottle of fruit juice and a sandwich but Flynn couldn’t eat. All she could think of was going home and finding her apartment wrecked, her car stolen, and her job gone.
She put on her headphones but didn’t want to watch a movie. Instead, a soundtrack of the last few hours played through her mind. There was something at the edge of her consciousness that she was missing. In the erotic romance novels she read, the leader of a pack of werewolf shape-shifters or were-panthers or were-just-about-anything was often called the Alpha. It simply meant the person in charge, but it was a convention in shape-shifter stories. Could it be because that’s how things worked in real life?
She thought back to her beautiful wolves with their golden-brown fur. Wolves she’d seen twice now and wolves who’d stared back at her with knowledge and intelligence. Wolves who could so easily be people.
If her own wolves were people, was it possible that Kiril and Magnus, Odette, Damask, Leonie, Brody, Uwe, Dominik—all of them—were wolves, too? Magnus had given a very wolflike yip in return when the wolf in the national park had howled, and there’d been the joke about werewolf stew.
And Kiril and Magnus had bitten her neck and claimed her last night. Wasn’t biting another thing so many shape-shifters stories included? Yes. And she’d looked in the mirror today expecting huge bruises where they’d bitten her, but the marks on either side of her shoulder were quite small. Almost as if they’d been made by fangs, not by human teeth.
Flynn pulled her headphones off and stared at Odette. She leaned across to the other woman, placed her lips at Odette’s ear, and breathed, “You people are shape-shifters aren’t you? Wolves.”
Odette turned to her, looked over the tops of her glasses, and smiled. “Yes, sweetie. We are.”
* * * *
Kiril hated leaving Flynn, Damask, and Odette outside the conference center, but his Alpha’s mate was correct. His most important task was to protect his Alpha, the man to whom he’d sworn allegiance. He’d promised to give his life for the Alpha if necessary. At the moment, he thought the worst that was likely to happen was a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, but he had to obey. Besides, the women were outside the room now
, and therefore out of the way of any danger of being caught up in the battle.
And a battle it was. But it was almost impossible to know who was on which side. It wasn’t like soccer where everyone wore their team’s colors. He pushed his way through the crowd avoiding waving arms and poorly aimed punches, until he could see the other members of his pack. And then he moved a whole lot faster. A group of men was trying to reach the Alpha, who was in the center of a very tight circle comprising Dominik, Uwe, Roman, and Grigori.
Kiril threw himself onto the back of a man who had Uwe in a headlock, driving his knee into the approximate area of the man’s kidneys, then tugging on his fingers to loose them from Uwe’s neck. He felt a finger snap, but it didn’t slow down the man at all. He seemed determined to stay with Uwe. Kiril became more determined, pulling the man’s wrist backward with all his strength. The man gave a shrill scream and dropped to his knees. Kiril immediately turned his attention to a man lying on the floor and holding on to the Alpha’s legs. Deciding not to be Mr. Nice Guy this time, he immediately pulled the man’s wrist backward forcing the fingers back toward the man’s arm. A sharp kick into the man’s middle also helped him lose interest in the fight.
Dominik, Roman, and Grigori had freed the Alpha from the other assailants, and with Uwe, purple faced but still acting as their rear guard, they climbed over several rows of seats to get to the smashed window. Kiril jumped from the final seat and launched himself through the window, then reached back in to help Dominik push the Alpha out. Grigori urged Uwe to go next, but Kiril kept his gaze facing outward in case of trouble. He heard a car engine revving madly and stepped in front of the Alpha, holding him tight behind his body, but he recognized the car as it screeched to a stop beside them, the back door opening ready for them.
He wondered which of the men had fetched the hire car for them, but was too busy shoving Uwe, who was coughing badly, and the Alpha into the car to ask any questions.
“Grigori, Kiril, go with them. I’ll get the others,” said Dominik.
Kiril opened the front passenger door and jumped in as the car squealed away from the window, tires burning rubber and the door not even shut properly, let alone giving him time to fasten his seat belt.
“Alpha, do you want to go to the house or the airport? Jairus’s arm is broken,” said the driver.
Kiril’s head snapped around to stare at her. It was Leonie who was driving, like a maniac, changing lanes with dizzying speed and paying absolutely no attention to the road laws. If she even knew them. She was from Austria and this was Germany after all.
“Airport. How soon will we be there?”
“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Kiril, get us all seats on any flight anywhere that departs in half an hour.”
Leonie took the on-ramp to the autobahn on two wheels, diving between a giant truck and a sports car whose driver’s face was a rictus of terror. Likely mine is about the same, thought Kiril.
It was barely fifteen minutes later than Leonie stopped the car in a no stopping zone right outside the domestic air terminal entry door. The bar codes for the airplane tickets were on his cell phone so he handed it to Leonie, saying as mildly as he could, “I’ll return the car to the hire company. You help Uwe and Jairus.”
Kiril watched as Grigori stayed shoulder to shoulder with the Alpha, with Uwe on his other side, his face now more red than purple, and Leonie and Jairus in front of them. Jairus was holding his left elbow cupped in his right hand, and his face looked sweaty and pale. Kiril hoped he would be allowed onto the airplane.
Oh well, there was bound to be a St. John First Aid post in the airport somewhere. If Jairus wasn’t allowed on the airplane he’d stay with him and get him attended to.
Kiril left the car in the hire car parking lot, dropped the keys in the lockbox, and ran for the terminal, wishing the gate he needed wasn’t so far away. He sprinted down the concourse, just as the ground staff was closing the gate. But Leonie was there waiting for him and convinced the crew to hold the gate the extra minute it took him to snatch his ticket from Leonie and be swiped through. The gate crew woman gave him a sour look, but they had no luggage and so should not delay the flight’s departure.
None of them was together on the airplane. It was very full and they were scattered around the cabin. But Kiril didn’t mind. He had a hell of a lot to think about. Like where was Flynn? Who was looking after her? And what the fuck had the Alpha from Turkey meant about the vote being a lie. Could that be true or was he the one lying?
It wasn’t until the airplane landed in Munich he remembered he’d purchased tickets on the first available flight. He wasn’t even going home yet.
* * * *
Magnus had been in the thick of the fighting. The room had erupted right where he was sitting, on the aisle, and he had no idea who he’d even been fighting most of the time. But when someone had started hitting him, it’d seemed like the right thing to do to hit them back.
His right eye was damn sore and already swollen shut, and his gut felt like someone had used it as a punching bag, but things were quieting down now and he and Stefan were freed from the fighting and were able to look around the room.
Dominik, Roman, and Brody came over to them and Dominik said, “We’re the last ones. Let’s go.”
Magnus’s aching gut thought that was a good idea. They left the building and walked back to where the cars had been parked. One hire car had gone, but he supposed Kiril or Jairus had collected it. He handed the hire car keys to Dominik and his set of keys to the SUV to Stefan. With one eye shut and a belly that ached like a bitch he knew there was no way he should be driving right now.
“Magnus, you and Stefan go to Flynn’s apartment and pack her enough things to last her for a week. There’s no way she should be going back there right now. We’ll start packing up the house,” said Dominik.
Magnus nodded. It made good sense although he hoped Flynn didn’t object to men handling her clothing. He rather thought he’d like to sniff her panties and sweaters, to see if any scent of her remained on them. He pulled his necktie off and shrugged out of his suit coat, unbuttoning his shirt and letting his body relax a bit more.
At Flynn’s apartment he headed up the stairs wondering if he should find a concierge or janitor to let them in, but how would he explain he was packing her things for her, not stealing them or that he was not some weird kind of pervert?
It didn’t matter. The door was ajar so she was there already. Although she really should have locked it behind her. Perhaps the pack members escorting her had inadvertently left it open. He pushed the door wider saying, “Flynn? It’s me, Magnus.”
A tornado raced at him and began punching him in his aching gut. It certainly wasn’t Flynn so he hit back as hard as he could. A lucky swipe with his fist dealt his attacker an uppercut to the jaw and he dropped like a stone.
Magnus kicked the door shut and strode farther into the room, closely followed by Stefan. Stefan held out his arm to stop him and peeked around the living room door before tiptoeing into the hall. Magnus breathed deeply through his nose wishing he could see out of both eyes, then heard a crash. Running down the hallway, Magnus skidded to a stop at Flynn’s bedroom door. The bedding had been pulled onto the floor and Stefan was busy tying up a man with a sheet. Sighing, Magnus pulled the second sheet off the bed and went to tie up the man he’d knocked out.
Stefan looked at him and called out after him, “When you’ve done that, go and stick your head in a bucket of cold water while I phone Dominik.”
Magnus rather thought he’d throw up if he bent over the sink, but went into the bathroom anyway. Maybe Stefan just wanted a minute or two’s privacy. Although the cold water helped. His head felt clearer when he came out. He walked back to Flynn’s bedroom and opened the closet looking for a suitcase but there wasn’t one. There wasn’t one under the bed or in the hall closet either. He finally found a couple of sturdy cardboard boxes in the kitchen and took them into the bedroo
m, piling her underwear, shirts, and skirts into one, and her shoes, sweaters, a couple pairs of jeans, and a coat into the other.
He looked in her closet. It was almost empty. He went back to the kitchen and looked some more, finding two more boxes on a top shelf.
He took one to the bedroom and put the last few items of clothing in it and added her bed linens and the towels from the bathroom.
In the kitchen he piled the foodstuffs from the pantry in the fourth box and wondered if the plates belonged to her. He walked back to the closet in the hallway and added the rest of her linen to the box, and lifted out a wicker picnic hamper stored there. There were several framed photographs in the living room that he added to the boxes, and then he figured he was done.
Stefan said, “All finished?”
“Yeah. What are we doing with the men?”
“Dom, Roman, and Brody are on their way here to deal with them. Dom’s asking the Alpha for instructions while they drive.”
“Okay. I’ll take these boxes out to the SUV while we wait.”
“You look like hell. I’ve got the car keys. I’ll do it.”
Magnus was just as happy to let Stefan carry the boxes. His gut was roiling and he really didn’t want to hike up and down those stairs twice more lugging boxes when he was probably going to have to do it all over again carrying the dead weight of one of the fallen attackers, who were starting to come around. What a shame he didn’t have any ball gags here.
He pulled two washcloths out of one of the remaining boxes and shoved one each into the attackers’ mouths. They should probably collect Oscar while they were here, too. He’d argued that Flynn should leave the car at the rented house, but she’d insisted on bringing it here. Now he was just going to have to drive it back. She hated that it dripped oil, no matter how often he told her the car section of the supermarket was full of products to remove oil stains from concrete.
