Wolf-Run

by Linda Palmer

  "I'll stay out of the way. I promise."

  "Damn, you're hard headed."

  "Yeah, and you love me for it."

  "Maybe not for that, exactly, but I love you for sure." He held out his arms. I went to him. We kissed more than once, as in a lot.

  The next few hours crept by. Part of me—the new Cassidy part, I guess—couldn't wait to help Brody and the pack find the little lost girl. Another part—the old part—played out every possible scenario in my head. What if this was a kidnapping and an abductor with a gun waited? Would they kill the girl when they realized they'd been found? Or would they save their bullets for the pack?

  How I hoped Abigail had simply wandered off, and now slept in a culvert somewhere, oblivious to law enforcement and the volunteers who searched so frantically for her. How cool it would be to rescue her. I could already imagine her parents'

  joy.

  Fifteen minutes before eight, the pack began to show up one-by-one, their motorcycles shattering the night silence. Brody told me that all of them shifting at once was very unusual and not particularly smart. He made sure everyone knew what to do before they stripped down and shifted. I didn't watch that, but did go outside later and sit on a lawn chair by the grill. While the clock slowly ticked off the seconds to the shift back, the wolves explored my parents' property and did other wolf-y things, including howl. Thank goodness, Iris didn't sleep at the house anymore. She'd surely have called the police or animal control.

  Finally, around nine-forty-five, they began to shift into teenage boys again. When I realized what was happening, I scurried indoors. One naked guy—the right one—was fine. Five were four too many. When they stepped inside my house again, they looked the same, but not the same. It was almost as if they'd absorbed the night in some way and become one with the earth.

  Spooky.

  And sexy, at least as far as Brody was concerned. I would've tackled him to the floor right there in the laundry room if we hadn't had witnesses.

  As for Stewart, he remained a wolf, as per the plan.

  I drove my car to Tucker's home, a trailer on a modest lot. Lee and Jackson rode with me. Brody took his truck, with Welch on the passenger side and Stewart-wolf in the bed. Though excitement dominated my emotions, I never lost that feeling of dread that kept my stomach in knots. I distracted myself from worrying by listening to a hard rock station that suited my chaotic mood to a tee.

  Tucker Wells met us at the door. He looked much younger than I expected, though worry lines etched his tanned face. Once he invited us inside, he greeted every guy by name, even Stewart, which only made sense, I guess. They'd undoubtedly run together as wolves. But it still amazed me that they recognized each other. Except for variations in color, members of the pack looked pretty much the same to me. Well, all except Brody. At this point, I think I'd have known him if he shifted into a bumblebee.

  After Brody introduced me, Tucker motioned for all of us to sit down in his living room. I could hear a dog whining in the background and an occasional bark that told me it didn't like being shut up. A tall young woman with red hair joined us moments later. Tucker presented her as Megan, his wife. Her gaze swept the room, abruptly stopping on Stewart.

  I heard her soft gasp. "Is he...?”

  "Yeah." Tucker turned to Stewart. "Come meet my wife." The wolf did as asked.

  Megan cringed from him at first, which made me wonder if this was the first Were she'd ever met. For about a minute, the wolf and woman just stared at each other. Stewart dropped his jaw a little, which almost made it look like he smiled. Megan took a tentative step forward to touch his head. He licked her hand. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

  "It's real."

  "I told you and told you." Tucker sounded frustrated with her.

  Megan had my complete sympathy.

  "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" I said.

  She nodded and frowned at me, probably wondering why I was there. "Thanks for helping us." Seeing how she suffered, I instantly thought of my parents. If they'd been home when I was abducted, would they have felt such sorrow? Or would Dad have been so pissed he couldn't grieve? I had no doubt they'd look for me. How could they not and escape public censure? But deep inside, what would they really have felt?

  Relief that the single blip on their perfectly planned lives had been erased? Irritation that I wasn't at home anymore to manage things while they were gone? Or honest regret that their only daughter might be suffering or even dead?

  "Cass, why don't you stay with Megan while we scout the area?" Brody asked.

  Though I wanted to argue, I didn't. Megan looked as if she could use the moral support. Besides, it wasn't as if I could sniff out any bad guys, myself.

  Tucker passed around some of Abigail's clothing so the guys to catch her scent. And even though he'd lost his wolf senses with the cure, he left with the pack shortly after. I heard Brody's truck start up.

  Megan let out the dog, a collie that began sniffing everything, and sat by me on the couch. "So you're dating a werewolf. What's that like?"

  "Different."

  She gave me a half smile. "I can imagine."

  "How did it feel to be married to one?" I asked.

  “Never was...that I knew about, anyway. He just up and left for over a year, and when he came back he had this crazy story about Palatines and werewolves that I didn’t completely believe until tonight.”

  “You had no idea where he’d gone?”

  "I thought he was with another woman. That's what his goodbye letter said, anyway." She shrugged. “He wrote that to keep us safe and at a distance, of course.”

  "You took him back even though you believed he'd had an affair?"

  "I loved him; I forgave him; we moved forward. I'm so glad to know he was telling me the truth, but in the end, it doesn't really matter. None of us are perfect. I need and love Tucker as much as Abby does. To have him in our lives, I can embrace the good and forget the bad."

  Wow. Was she reading my mind or what? Suddenly ashamed of my silent whining, I gave myself a mental kick in the butt. Time to focus on my blessings instead of my problems. I had every material thing I could ever dream of and money to buy more, thanks to my granddad and hard-working parents. So what if they were emotionally distant? Max filled their void nicely if I needed family for something. And no matter what or how many secrets he kept, there was no way they could be as shocking or twisted as Brody’s.

  "Tell me about Abby," I said, deliberately redirecting the conversation. "Was she playing in your yard when she disappeared?"

  Megan shook her head. Tears filled her eyes. "We were at the school yard. She was on the swings with her friend Sally while I visited with Sally's mom, Cheryl. I couldn't have taken my eyes off her for more than a few minutes, but when I looked her way again, she simply wasn't there."

  "What did Sally have to say?"

  "She told us that Abby went home with a man who'd lost his puppy and needed help finding it."

  So law enforcement knew for sure it was a kidnapping. The news hadn’t said that, and the knowledge disconcerted me. What if a pedophile had her? I couldn’t bear the thought. Megan grabbed a tissue from a box on the table. I grabbed one, too.

  "If I'd just taken Shep with us, this would never have happened. He's such a good watchdog." She petted him and began sobbing. Of course I did, too.

  It took several seconds for either of us to compose ourselves enough to speak again. This close to a very real tragedy, I could only be proud of what my boyfriend and his pack tried to do.

  We didn't say much else to each other, but the silence wasn't awkward.

  Barely an hour after all the guys left, they began returning one by one. Megan locked the dog away before the living room filled to capacity, and then some, once more. I felt their excitement, though no one enlightened us on anything. I hoped they had good news.

  Tucker came indoors at last, with Brody on his heels. Tucker rushed over to his wife, all smiles. "The g
uys are sure the Arm has her. They caught the scent of several gang members at the school, and Stewart tracked them north for several blocks."

  My heart dropped into my stomach. So much for good news. As far as I was concerned, this was the worst.

  "But why?" asked Megan. "You took the cure; you cut ties with them.”

  “Brody thinks the new boss, Roman, is so insecure that he's letting all past members know that the Arm is watching. Brody said if we’re going to get her back, we’ll have to do it ourselves. That’s what he had to do when they took Cassidy.”

  Megan looked at me, her brown eyes wide with shock.

  “They kidnapped you?”

  I nodded, but didn’t explain since I didn’t think I could do it without panicking her. What if they'd locked Abigail away somewhere in the dark without food or water? She'd be so scared. She'd have no idea how to stay alive.

  “Oh my God. I… I…” Clearly, words escaped her. She turned to her husband. “What are we going to do?”

  Since that was my next question, I waited anxiously for his answer, too.

  “Brody’s going to call his mom—she’s a psychic—to ask if she has any ideas about where Abigail might be.”

  Megan’s expression told me what she thought of that nonsense. I touched her arm. “That’s how he found me.”

  “Really? That worked?” Now I saw nothing but relief.

  We didn’t hang around much longer, but left them with Brody’s promise to call as soon as he knew anything. To my surprise, the minute we stepped outside, Brody tossed his keys to Jackson and motioned for him to drive the pack to their cycles in his truck. He got something from the glove box before getting into my car with me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I know where Abigail is.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Whoa. “How?”

  “Not sure. The minute I smelled her clothes, I just knew.”

  “So you really are psychic.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “But not in the traditional way, beyond occasional flashes of insight like this one. I have...other mental talents."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Brody just shook his head.

  Hm. “Why are you sending the pack away? Won’t you need their help to rescue her?”

  “I didn't tell them. They’re all way too wolf-y at the moment, if you know what I mean. I don’t want trouble. I think if we go there alone, we’ll have better luck getting her back without anyone being hurt. They think we're getting something to eat.”

  “Is someone guarding Abby?”

  “I think so. Maybe more than one. This whole sixth sense thing isn't an exact science, and I don't have a handle on it. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm not making this shit up.”

  “I’m so glad she's not alone. I keep picturing her locked in a dark, moldy crypt somewhere. Can you imagine how scary that would be if you were only three?”

  “Just because someone’s with her, doesn’t mean she’s not terrified.”

  “You know what I meant.” I started the engine. “So where are we going?”

  “The old Royale Theater on Tolkien Drive."

  My heart stopped. Max's Royale Theater? I don't know how I kept my face blank. "Dad's got a gun. Want to swing by there and get it?"

  "No gun."

  "Why?"

  "We might wind up on the wrong end of it."

  By now, I barely kept the car between the sidewalks. My heart pounded wildly in my chest; my ears roared.

  What could this mean? Was Max involved? Or were the bad guys just using the place because it was empty? Should I say something to Brody now? Or wait to see what happened? And if I did wait, would Brody be pissed at me?

  More important, how would my decision affect Abby?

  At that moment, I'd have given my right hand to be psychic, even if it wasn't an exact science.

  We got to the theater in the wee hours of the morning and found the lot bare and dark except for a couple of lights mounted on poles. I parked around back so my car wouldn't be seen from the street. We hoped to enter the building from there. There were no other vehicles anywhere around.

  "Something's totally wack about this," said Brody, eyeing the place.

  "What do you mean?"

  "If the Arm is trying to make a point, why didn't they lock Abby up and forget her like they did with you? Why assign a guard?"

  "Maybe there's a different motive."

  "Such as...?"

  "Ransom." I immediately nixed my own idea. "No, not that." The Wells lived in a run-down trailer park. There would be no exchange of money. I couldn't think of anything else. Shaking his head, Brody got out of the car. He didn't bother with ordering me to stay put. I guess he'd finally figured out it wouldn't do any good, or maybe he just wanted me where he could protect me. A little freaked by that thought, I grabbed his hand and stayed close as he checked out perimeter of the silent building on foot. There were no windows on the first story, at least in the back, and the metal door looked solid.

  Since there was a second-floor fire escape, he and I climbed a rickety metal ladder to inspect it. Once we stood on the tiny platform outside that door, which didn't look as solid, he dug some kind of tool out of his pocket and picked the lock. I realized that must be what he'd taken from his truck earlier. The place smelled musty inside. Goosebumps skittered down my arms in spite of the fact that the building felt hot and stuffy. I wanted to yell Abigail's name, but didn't dare. Instead, I followed Brody's lead as we crept down a dark, narrow hall. Each creak of the floorboards scared me silly. I expected a Wolfman to jump out at every corner.

  When Brody suddenly stopped in front of me, I rear ended him and slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

  He put his finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet. I nodded that I understood.

  He motioned for me to stay.

  I nodded again.

  Brody eased forward until he blended with the shadows and disappeared. I'd never felt so alone, not even in my crypt. Suddenly my boyfriend stood in front of me again. He motioned that I should follow, which I did, pausing only to step around a man sprawled face down in our path. In the dim light leaking from a room with windows, I saw that his hands were bound behind his back with the plastic tie thingys the police used. So were his ankles.

  How had Brody done that in total silence?

  Several yards down the hall, he opened the door to a stairwell. We quietly descended to the first floor hallway, where he abruptly braked again and motioned for me to stay put.

  No problem, I thought, more than a little scared. He was way too good at this.

  Seconds ticked by, each one endless. I was just about to go looking when he popped up in front of me again and grabbed my hand. We moved forward, passing a room with another prostrate and bound Were in it.

  How in the heck was he doing it? No wonder the gang wanted him back. The boy had major skills.

  For a third time, he left me. Seconds after, I heard a loud bang and a masculine yell. A child screamed very shrilly. That's all it took for me to charge ahead without a clue where to go. I desperately looked into every room I passed until I finally discerned the sounds of a skirmish—chairs falling, curses, and another scream—to my left.

  A quick change in direction revealed a light just ahead. I rushed toward it and burst through an open door, where I stopped to get a grip on the situation. I saw a TV set, lots of stacked boxes, and some folding metal chairs. I saw Brody and a Wolfman throwing punches at each other all over the place. In the corner, a little girl cowered against the wall, her hands over her ears, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Incensed, I started forward to rescue her, only to be cut off by the guys, who were oblivious to everything but their deadly struggle. Clearly, the third time wasn't a charm...at least tonight. Brody definitely had his hands full.

  I jumped back just in time to keep my feet and grabbed a chair by its legs. When I swung it at the Were, connecting with his shou
lder, he ripped off the mask and whirled on me. That's all it took for Brody to cut off the creep's air supply with a wrestling hold. The guy turned red, and then purple, and then vivid blue before his knees sagged. Brody instantly let go of him. He dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap. I hoped he was dead.

  I sidestepped them both to get to Abigail, who was so lost in her nightmare she didn't see or hear my approach. I knelt down to touch her. She startled violently and screamed again.

  "Abby! It's all right." I touched her again, letting my fingers run through her copper curls. "Your mommy sent me to get you."

  Abigail opened her eyes. I held out my arms. She jumped into them. We hugged, both sobbing uncontrollably. Feeling Brody's presence behind me moments later, I turned to find him in no better shape. His bottom lip, bloody and swollen, quivered as he struggled to regain control. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he remembered my own rescue all too vividly. Reaching out, I pulled him into a quick, one-armed embrace. I remembered my rescue, too.

  When I finally got a grip on my emotions, I glanced past Brody and saw that he'd bound the kidnapper's hands just as he had with the other two. "What do we do now?"

  "I'm going to ask this jerk a few questions, and then we're getting the hell out of here."

  "Do you recognize him?"

  Brody shook his head.

  "But he is a member of the Arm?"

  Brody pulled up the guy's black T-shirt and showed me the wolf tattoo on his chest. "Oh, yeah."

  Since Abigail still had her face buried in my cleavage, I had to tuck a finger under her chin to get her to look at me. "We'll take you home in just a minute, okay?"

  She nodded her eyes bright with more than tears.

  Brody found a trashed Styrofoam cup, which he filled with water and dumped on the Were's face. The man instantly came to, sputtering.

  "Do you know who I am?" asked Brody, now on one knee and leaning over him.

  "Yeah.” He sounded hoarse.

  "Is this about me?"

  I gasped. Brody thought this kidnapping was about him, too?

  The Were hesitated.