by Lisa Ladew
Rogue continued to crawl through the space, heading down, down, down, relying on her marginal sense of direction to get her closer to the exit she was seeking, and not farther away.
When the crawl space ended and an air duct system opened up in front of her, she didn’t even hesitate. She would have to get through it to get to the ground. Sounds of a party filtered up to her. The high trills of women laughing, accompanied by lower grunts of satisfaction from men. She almost stopped when she realized some of the noises almost sounded… sexual. But no, what she’d seen in the parking lot was messing with her head.
Inside the metal air duct, she had to low-crawl on her elbows, shimmying herself along like a snake. “Now I know what a TV dinner feels like,” she said, quoting Bruce Willis, grinning that she had the chance to use the line once in her life. He was her all-time favorite action hero, because almost half the shit he did in the movies could actually happen. Crawling through a ventilation system? Totally.
She had a moment to worry that Rex would point out where she was to the cops when they arrived, but then she realized it didn’t matter. He was probably long gone but the cops would figure it out themselves. All she had to do was get out before they had the presence of mind to lock the building down. So time was not on her side.
She crawled faster, glad for the thump of the music to cover the metallic sound of her moving through the shaft.
But then she reached a dead end.
She’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, and now the only options were back the way she had come, or pop out the grate below her and drop in to the party. Drop in, hardy har har. Total Bruce line if she ever heard one.
Grinning slightly, she stuck her eye to the slats. It looked like less than ten feet to the floor, and no one was directly below her. Good deal. The closeness of a wall suggested she was in a bit of a nook. Even better. She could hit the ground, orient herself, and push through the crowd before anyone knew what was happening. She put her ear to the grate, but couldn’t hear much over the music. Certainly no sirens.
With the flat of her hand, she hit the grate a dozen times at the screw sites until it popped open, then she got moving.
***
Mac watched the shadows of the evening play over the cars in the parking lot, shifting from foot to foot, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to Bruin and popped the bear on the shoulder, harder than he’d meant, but his frustration was making him edgy. “Were you playing with me, Bruin? Cuz that shit ain’t cool.”
“What?”
“You said she was coming. So where in the fuck is she?”
Bruin frowned, his brown eyes losing their near-constant good humor, as dismay filled them instead. He couldn’t even look at Mac, his eyes rolling instead, looking at everything but. “Mac, I don’t know. I don’t-”
He cut off, staring at something only he could see through the glass in the door. “She’s inside.”
“Oh my fuck,” Mac growled. “I am going to murder someone.”
He yanked the door open, slamming it back against the wall, hurrying inside, looking at everything, but not really seeing anyone. He didn’t care if the male had no way of knowing. He didn’t care if things hadn’t even gotten started yet. Anyone who had a finger on his mate was going to pay for it. He didn’t know what his mate looked like, but he knew what she smelled like. Too bad he could smell nothing but sex and booze-
***
Rogue’s first thought when she hit the ground was that she had stumbled onto the set of a porno. The room was large, big enough for a wedding reception, and placed in rows, like tables would have been, were couches. Couch after couch, each with at least one couple, some with more, with free love in full action, women and men alike, moving with the music, no shame or upset at the other bodies close to them, doing the exact same thing.
As someone who prided herself on her poker face, she knew when her mouth popped open, but the fact that she wasn’t able to close it bothered her the most. That, and the fact that there were no cameras anywhere. Not a porno. So… what?
She thought no one had noticed her yet, but was proved wrong when the man closest to her spoke to her, like he wasn’t pile-driving the female in front of him at the same time. He was big and naked and broad through the chest. Pleasing. His dick looked monstrous, too, what she could see of it. She shot a look to the ceiling. Maybe the cameras were hidden?
“Quite an entrance,” the man said, a mischievous look on his face. “Come on over here and I’ll show you what I thought of it. Lose the coveralls.”
Rogue realized her hat was gone, probably had been for a while. She edged past the man, trying to recover herself long enough to spot the exit door. She found the front doors to her left, and bingo, there was the exit straight ahead, exactly where it should be. Time to make like Houdini.
“You look a little busy,” she told the man, “but, ah, thanks for the offer. Maybe some other time?”
He winked at her! Actually winked, and the hard planes of his face let him pull it off. She blinked and looked around. Was this candid camera? He spoke again. “We’ll be back here next month. Night of the full moon. But I’m never too busy for someone as beautiful as you.” His hips kept time with the music and the blonde beauty he was pleasuring made eye contact with Rogue, too. Something in her stare told her she was into Rogue being a third.
Rogue startled, then fought to get herself under her usual steely control, remembering something Boe had said.
“The wolves that live in Serenity, indeed, in the entire world, are not tied to the moon in the manner of story. They run by it, mate by it, but they do not worship it or change only when it is fat.”
Mate by it? Fuck, this was all getting too weird. She had to get out of here. Over the music, she heard the sound of the police sirens swell, then wane. They were in the parking lot, driving to the rear of the building. That was her cue. She moved quickly, patting the man on his massive bare shoulder as she went. “You practice. Maybe I’ll think about it.”
She ignored his low chuckle and wound her way around couches, moving fast, keeping her eyes down, heading for the door with the single-mindedness she was known for. The room was so wide. She broke into a jog, ignoring anyone else who tried to speak to her.
She got within twenty feet, having to move quickly to pivot around a naked man in her path, almost there, when the front doors shot open and a pile of cops streamed inside.
Rogue almost wanted to stop, to see what was going to happen to the orgy so ungraciously interrupted but she knew she couldn’t. Once they spotted her, the chase would be on. She should have shed the man’s overalls… she wouldn’t even stand out if she had. Too late, just get out while she still could-Someone grabbed her elbow from behind, a grip she couldn’t pull free of. A man’s grip.
Fuck that.
No way she was getting caught here.
Chapter 19
Rogue took a step back, turned her body, stepping toward the guy who had her, grabbing his wrist with her other hand at the same time as she twisted her elbow hard, out of the slot that his closed fingers were trying to clamp down on. Her arm pulled free and she twisted around the man, coming up behind him, pulling his arm with her, tweaking it at both joints so he would be sure to feel the creak of his own tendons as she threatened to dislocate shoulder or elbow, whichever one she wanted. Maybe both if he was a shithead.
As she moved, her hands did their own work, knowing their moves exactly without any input from her brain. She had practiced this move hundreds of times, almost always on men bigger than her, so this was no problem for her. Except for the sudden feelings that were swimming through her. Contentment. Happiness. Motherfucking joy? What in the hell was going on? Rogue clamped down on the feelings, hard, reversing the momentary relaxation they’d spread through her muscles. Fuck them. She had shit to do. Buildings to escape from. Guys bigger than her to subdue.
With a practiced slide of her hand, she released one of her knives from its holster alo
ng the side of her forearm and pulled it out, holding it up to the man’s throat, so everyone could see it. “I’ve got a knife at your throat,” she hissed in the man’s ear. “Cooperate and it will stay outside your body. Make one wrong move and you’ll know what a loaf of bread feels like.” As she spoke, she moved them both backwards, her eyes crawling over the cops in uniform, most of whom had noticed her, one who was already getting out his gun. Good thing the fucker who’d had the poor judgment to grab her was big. She was almost completely hidden behind him. Big. Broad. Just the way she liked them, when she wasn’t about to be arrested.
Another cop saw her. Rogue couldn’t hear what he said over the music, but it looked like an, “Oh, fuck,” rolling off his tongue to her. A woman near him screamed and pulled away from the guy who was still trying to do her, seemingly uncaring about the cops in their midst.
Surreal, and the thumping beat of the bass made it more so. Someone should stop the music. Everyone should stop the fucking. Rogue tried to move another step backwards, towards the exit door, surprised the guy she had ahold of wasn’t howling in pain as she cranked harder on his arm to get him to move. In fact, he was sagging against her, moving into her hold not away from it, his massive weight throwing off her balance. She checked his face as much as she could from behind him. His eyes were open, but they almost seemed to be rolled back in his head. Like he was enjoying himself.
What in the fuck kind of freak show had she dropped in on? “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up, unless you want to be sliced and diced. Move with me here.” She cranked on his arm again, expecting him to do anything to lessen the pain. A few more steps backward were what she needed.
He didn’t, though. He didn’t even acknowledge the pain. He seemed to wake up a bit at least, and took more of his weight back on his own two feet. She noticed he smelled amazing and she tried not to breathe, not to notice more. “Your name,” he rasped out. “I have to know your name.”
“Rapunzel,” she said. “You’re getting shanked by a fucking Disney princess. Now move.” She pulled him backwards, trying to decide how much injury she was willing to inflict on him. He could be a cop, but he could also be in the wrong place at the wrong time, playing the hero. Fuck, why did everyone have to do that shit? Even if he was a cop, she didn’t want to hurt him if she didn’t have to, but if it couldn’t be avoided… she would do what she had to do. Teach him a little lesson about sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Nothing a doctor couldn’t fix.
He was trying to turn around. She shook him by his trapped arm, pressing the knife farther into his neck. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she said.
“H-have to see you,” he panted, still trying to turn, paying her almost no mind at all. Like she wasn’t even there. Nothing pissed her off more than being ignored.
She pulled back, cranking on his arm and wrist at the same time, adding some finger action in there, fully expecting him to howl in pain, but he must have been on drugs or something. He kept trying to turn toward her, his single-minded obsession making her have to move with him, until they were moving farther away from the exit door instead of toward it.
Time to get serious. “Stop!” she hissed right in his ear again, then pressed her body into the back of him, standing on her tiptoes, prepared to twist out from under him and make a run for it if he thrust his weight backwards with the intention of throwing her off her feet.
She pushed the knife tip into his skin, deliberately slicing him. Pain would get his attention. “Fucking listen to me, asshole, or you’re going to have a new hole in your neck. One you can’t breathe out of.” He stilled finally and she got him to move back a few steps, trying to ignore the bright red blood she saw dripping down his neck. She’d only had to use a knife one other time in her life, and she’d hated it then, too. They were more tools, or for show, or emergencies.
But still, he wasn’t paying attention to her. He put his free arm up and shouted at the cops who were all coming toward them now, all of them with their guns out, pointed at them as they carefully wound their way through the couches and people on the floor. Absurdly, she noticed their trigger discipline, all of them with their index fingers outside the trigger guard.
Her guy shouted at them. “Put the fucking guns away!”
Rogue felt like looking around questioningly, like pinching herself to see if she was even there.
He shouted again. “I said, put them away, or I’ll have all your fucking badges!” He tried to lunge forward but she kept him against her with another crank on his arm.
One of the uniforms spoke. “What should we do, Mac? Just let her stab you?”
“Yes, goddamit, any one of you so much as puts a scratch on her and I’ll kill you!”
Rogue’s hold loosened in shock. She almost let him go completely, unable to believe it when all the officers returned their guns to their holsters, and a few of them even started to back away.
But then her ass end hit the door. She disappeared her knife and leaned into the metal behind her, bringing up her foot, planting it in the guy’s ass, kicking off as hard as she could as she let go of his arm, then ducked out the door, ignoring the blaring alarm as it opened.
She was out.
Time to disappear.
***
Mac stumbled forward, falling over his own feet, catching himself on his good arm, rolling, ending up on his feet again, his left arm dangling loosely at his side.
“I never even saw her face!” he bellowed as he shot toward the door. “What did she look like?” He hit the door with the one arm that would listen to him, wondering for just a moment if his other one was dislocated. He’d known he was in pain, but in the ecstasy of his mate’s touch, he barely felt it. Now his arm was like a lead weight attached to his body. It wouldn’t obey a one of his commands.
Movement on his chest caught his eye and he looked down. He was bleeding. Lovely.
Bruin pushed past two patrol officers, and Mac could tell by the look on his face he’d held back out of respect for Mac, and hadn’t seen much of what had happened. He didn’t know what she looked like either.
“Was that… your mate?” one of the patrol officers asked haltingly.
“Yes,” Mac grated. “What in the hell did she look like?”
A few of the officers exchanged glances. “She was hot,” one of them said.
“Real fucking helpful,” Mac growled. “Half of you out the front door and surround the building, the rest of you with me. Anyone finds her, you tell me. No one touches her. No one points a gun at her. I don’t care what she’s doing. No one touches her but me.”
Mac grabbed a radio off a patrol officer’s belt, threw Bruin a look that said follow-me, and headed out the door his mate had disappeared out of, still working one handed.
Shit was finally getting interesting.
Chapter 20
Mac rubbed his eyes, staring at the computer screen he, Blake, and Bruin were gathered around. They’d been out all night, but hadn’t found a trace of his mate. He’d caught her deliciously tangy scent several times, but not one more glimpse of her. He hadn’t even known where to look! They’d worked their way out from the warehouse in a circle, but hadn’t found one trace of her. Not even when they searched through the large air vent she’d popped out of. No fingerprints. No stray hairs, nothing.
Blake yawned, collapsing into his chair. “My vision is blurry, Mac, we’ve already looked at over a thousand mug shots. He pointed to the clock on the wall. “We’ve been here for hours. I can’t do this all day, I gotta work tonight.”
“You’re done when I say you’re done,” Mac growled. The dead body they’d found in the apartment upstairs with the fingerprints on the blunt and bloody trophy next to him that didn’t match any they had in their system rankled him. Officers were already whispering that his mate was a murderer, but that shit didn’t sit right with Mac. She’d been protecting herself, or she’d been set up, something. He’d gotten a sense of who she was when they’d touched, and
she was hard, she was tough, but she wasn’t a murderer.
He had to find her, before anyone else did.
Wade came in the duty room, and by the look on his face, Mac knew he’d been filled in on everything by someone.
Wade walked over. “Blake, you’re dismissed. Mac, I want you to go home.”
Blake disappeared quickly, avoiding Mac’s glare as he ran for the exit. Mac stood and faced Wade. “Not yet. I want to listen to the 911 call again.” He gestured to the computer. “Plus there’s thousands of mug shots we haven’t gone through yet. I need someone who saw her face-”
Wade cut him off. “They all left. They’re all home sleeping. Go home. If I see you back here before five hours have elapsed, you’re gonna regret it.”
Mac looked to the side, not trusting himself to answer. Wade didn’t have a whole lot to hold over his head, but Mac still needed Wade’s protection and approval, especially if his mate was in some sort of trouble.
Wade looked him right in the eye. “I mean it. Home. You don’t have anything to go on, so all you can do at this point is get some rest.”
Mac swore but stepped off. Shit. More waiting, more sleeping. Without his mate. “Bruin, I’m gonna take the truck home. I’ll see you tonight.”
Bruin nodded, heaving himself out of his chair, his entire body drooping with tiredness. “Meet you here at sunset? I need at least six hours of shut-eye, or I’m a mess.”
Mac stalked off, not looking at Wade, barely looking at Bruin. “I’ll call you.”
***
Rogue drove slowly, putting way too much of a gap between her and the guy she was following, but he was a cop, he had to be, and if she tailed too close, he would spot her for sure.
Luckily, he was in a huge black truck that was easy to see, even from blocks away. She frowned, wondering if it was the same one that had pulled up outside of the Englewood Post Office, just as she had been leaving, the wolf and angel pendants in her hands.
It would have been too much of a coincidence for her to even think about believing, except her life seemed to be nothing but a series of coincidences and craziness lately. Ever since her 25th birthday.
