The Cougar's Pawn

by Holley Trent

  “This is so fucking stupid,” one of the men said. “What if we’re wrong?”

  Please be wrong about whatever it is. Ellery craned her neck back to look at them. They didn’t exactly seem jubilant, but that didn’t mean anything.

  “Do you trust me?” Auburn ogre asked.

  The other two made what sounded like begrudging grunts.

  “You may not trust her, but you trust me. I’m not wrong. It’s these three.”

  Ellery didn’t know who the her in question was, but they didn’t seem to be indicating the women on the ground.

  “When was the last time anyone we know did this?” the third brother asked.

  “I don’t know. She gave me the sign, so here we are.”

  Being a witch, Ellery knew a little something about signs, but for the life of her she couldn’t speculate on what the men were going on about. Maybe some kind of ritual sacrifice? If she had any luck at all, they’d want virgins.

  He tossed bundles of rope to the other two. “Don’t make it harder for them. Remember what Mom said.”

  Mom? Was that the she they’d referenced? The idea that a maternal influence put them up to this made Ellery’s gut roil. What kind of dysfunction went on in that family? She would have sighed, if she could. Who was she to talk about dysfunction? Her family was the absolute worst for that. Southern Protestant witches had more hang-ups than Rascal Flatts had hits.

  “But what about the picking? It’s a reasonable question,” longer-haired brother said. He eyed all three women again, and then bent and looped the rope around Hannah’s ankles.

  “We have plenty of time to decide,” shorter-haired brother said. “Long drive home.”

  Auburn brother just grunted and knelt to bind Ellery’s wrists. As he tightened the rope, sliding a finger between the coils, he rolled his whiskey brown stare up to her face and asked, “Does it hurt?”

  She started to nod just as a matter of course, but then she wriggled her fingers, and flexed her wrists. She shook her head. She wasn’t much of a liar—never had been—but sometimes that worked in her favor. Her brother-in-law Claude had taught her to be honest for the small things so that if she had to tell a whopper of a lie later, it’d be believable. She got a sneaking suspicion she’d be telling plenty of lies before the day was over … assuming she lived to see the end of it.

  “Good.” He eased back and tied her ankles with the same careful attention as her wrists, and then pulled himself up to standing. He unzipped her backpack, and his brothers seemed to follow suit, sliding the other bags onto the tailgate and rooting through them.

  She furrowed her brow, wondering what he could be digging for, and then he produced her sky blue wallet. Sliding his fingers under the flap, he released the snaps and sifted through the contents.

  Was he looking for money? Phone numbers to call to secure her ransom? Nothing about their camping set-up had screamed excess of money, so they were going to be shit out of luck if that’s what they wanted. Miles had some, but had no family to give a damn or send it. Hannah had family in spades, but Ellery didn’t imagine she had much more in savings than a few months of paychecks.

  She recognized her driver’s license by the barcode image on the backside.

  He read it—studied it, apparently, judging by the way his eyes tracked side to side repeatedly—and turned to his brothers. They all held cards. Red-haired brothers extended theirs to the auburn caveman.

  “They’re all the same age,” he said.

  “That’ll make picking harder,” longer-haired brother said.

  The picking thing again. She didn’t see how their ages would make any difference unless they planned on sacrificing them in a particular order.

  “Maybe not.” He slipped the cards into his shirt pocket and bent low. He picked Ellery up in one easy heave and set her onto the tailgate. “There are some cushions in the back. You won’t be comfortable, exactly, but it should make the ride a bit more bearable.” He zipped up her backpack—sans wallet—and pushed it farther back into the compartment.

  She didn’t move, just stared at him. Couldn’t send a blast of wind at him without freaking out her friends. She should have given him a static shock when she had a chance … if she hadn’t been so busy sampling the goods. She regretted it, but damn. When she’d become an active magic user a year ago, she uncorked a voracious libido along with it. She’d thought there was something wrong with her, until Gail assured her it wasn’t just her. It seemed that having a little power did wonders for freeing a woman’s inhibitions. Perhaps that was one of the reasons so many covens cautioned against the use of wild magic. They’d all turn into a bunch of witchy wantons. She didn’t mind being a wanton, but she needed to be able to think strategically. With the Were-cat so close, she was failing hard at it.

  “Back you go, Ellery,” he said, and he canted his head toward the opening.

  Her cheeks burned hot at the sound of her name, but she didn’t move. She just stared.

  He stared right back, those cat eyes of his practically fluorescent in the waning light. Hypnotizing, but not in a way that had anything to do with magic. He was just that stunning. “Would you prefer I use force?”

  She closed her eyes, and suddenly she could think.

  “Believe it or not, I don’t want to. In fact, I don’t want to be here at all.”

  A reluctant thug. Well, that made the situation so much better.

  She opened her eyes, and in her periphery, caught a glimpse of Miles writhing under one of the Cats’ grips. Ellery didn’t want to make it worse for Miles or Hannah and needed to lead by example. The sooner they got out of the men’s grips, the better. They could go with the flow for the moment, and figure out a plan. “Thinking’s best done when you’re calm, fille,” Claude always said. He was usually right. She climbed in, put her back against the left wall, and watched him pick up little Miles and test her bindings.

  Hannah eased back to the very rear of the bed and put her back against the toolbox.

  Miles came last with the auburn giant checking her restraints and nudging her knapsack into the back.

  “We’ve got about a three-hour drive, and we’re going to do it non-stop. I hope that doesn’t cause any problems for you.”

  All three women squirmed and whimpered.

  “I’m sorry. You’ll have to hold it.”

  He closed the gate.

  Fuck.

  Gail wasn’t going to believe it, but this kind of crap always happened to Ellery.

  Kidnapped. Again.

  The last time she’d been abducted, a megalomaniac quarter-demon snatched her up as she was crossing the parking lot at the hospital where she worked. He’d been after Gail, and Ellery had just been convenient. Being that she was two thousand miles from home, it didn’t seem like she could blame Gail for the current misfortune.

  Somehow, that didn’t make Ellery feel any better.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mason Foye leaned against the back of his pickup truck and crossed his arms over his chest while his younger brothers paced impatiently in front of him. Patience had never been a strong suit of theirs, which seemed to be a quality in direct opposition to their Cougar natures.

  Cats were supposed to know how to wait—to be watchful and careful—but the Cougars had fallen out of the practice so long ago that no one could even remember when they’d stopped.

  He couldn’t really blame them for their agitation, though. There were a lot of things they didn’t do the Cougar way, and half the time they were making shit up as they went along. They were sons of an alpha and should have known better, but Dad had kept them sheltered from the group—the Cougar glaring—growing up. He said he didn’t want them jaded by it, but that had been just one of Floyd Foye’s mistakes. Mason was still trying to clean up the rest of them. That’s why it’d taken the brothers so long to set out on their mate hunt. Well, that and the fact they thought their patron goddess was either edging toward senility or simply a sadistic bitch.
Mason suspected the second. They hadn’t wanted to do a hunt at all. No one Mason knew of did them anymore. If they felt the compulsions, they ignored them. The goddess’s signs were usually so vague, and no one wanted to start the ticking time bomb that was trying to bond with the wrong mate.

  Mason didn’t see where he had a choice. His dream had been unmistakable. Three women—one for each Foye—at a campground. Their one shot for perfect mates. Perfect strangers they had to convince to accept them within two weeks, or else they’d be stuck in their cougar forms until the days they died.

  Not exactly ideal, but what else would they expect of a goddess whose rare edicts were regularly demoralizing and emasculating? After seven hundred years, the lady really needed to get over her ex.

  “Chill with the pacing,” he said to Hank and Sean, only to receive a duet of scoffs in return.

  “I can’t help but to feel like this is going to go really fucking badly,” Hank said.

  “Ever the cynic.”

  “Can you really blame him?” Sean asked. At least he stopped pacing. He leaned his butt against the bumper and folded his arms over his chest. “I mean, shit, man. Why us? And what’s the worst that would have happened if we’d just ignored your dream?”

  Mason shrugged. “I don’t really want to find out. We have enough problems already without bringing down La Bella Dama’s goddess fury onto us.” Thanks to the legends of her earthly tribulations, he could imagine what the long-absent deity’s punishments might be. The CIA had nothing on her when it came to creative torture.

  No, he didn’t really want to find out what she’d do to him, even if he hadn’t been ready for a mate. Hell, he hadn’t even been looking to get laid in over a year, and now he was supposed to sweet talk a stranger into being his forever lady? The goddess’s cruelty obviously had no limits.

  Dad’s death had left Foye Woodworks in an upended state that had taken the brothers two years to dig out from, and then it took three more years for them to have enough money tucked away in savings for just in case. Financial chaos would never rule their world again if Mason could help it. It wasn’t just his job as big brother, but as Alpha, too. Cougars may have been independent for the most part, but they worked together when needed. Mason tried not to put too much stress on the glaring, and like his father, was slow in asking people to pitch in. Cats weren’t good at trusting.

  Mom was the reason Mason and his brothers had gotten involved in the glaring at all during their teen years. They were Cougars, whether they wanted to be or not, and she couldn’t teach them how to be that. Like the women in the truck, she was just human. They needed to be around others like them, and not just their father. They needed to learn how to compensate for their untrusting natures and isolationist tendencies, but by the time they’d started to, Dad had to go and have a fucking heart attack and die.

  Mason had stepped up as Alpha because of a sense of obligation. He was qualified, sure, but that meant nothing to him without the goddess’s blessing. The goddess hadn’t given any alpha in a hundred years her blessing, so trying to keep up with all the glaring requests seemed pointless on some days. He didn’t know if he was getting anything right.

  “Look. There she is.” Mason nodded toward the main house. Mom padded down the front steps pulling her terrycloth bathrobe together and tying it at the waist.

  Situated dead center in the middle of the Double B ranch, Mom’s place was in viewing distance of each son’s own house, but far enough away that she couldn’t meddle. The Foye boys knew fuck-all about ranching. Had never needed to. Mom kept the cattle business running with the help of a few Cougar ranch hands, and the brothers kept the bills paid by woodworking. They unanimously agreed that staying out of Mom’s hair was a good thing. When they got pulled into her orbit, she nagged. Boy, did she nag. The worst part was that she was entirely entitled to—a know-it-all of the worst sort.

  Mom hurried out to the driveway. Her gray-streaked red hair trailed on the wind behind her and she grinned, her anticipation clear on her face.

  “I wonder what she’s going to think of her future daughters-in-law,” Hank said drily. He stopped pacing long enough to lace his fingers through his loose hair.

  Mason sputtered his lips. “She’s either going to get three daughters-in-law or three wild cats for sons by the time all is said and done. I’m not placing any bets.”

  The vengeful Dama had been pretty clear in his dream. Mate-snatching was a traditional trial for male Cougars of a certain age, but it was rarely done anymore, what with the advent of romantic love and all. Supposedly, only the bravest, truest of hearts snatch a mate and make her say, “Yes, I accept you and I’ll stay,” in two weeks. Most guys nowadays needed a little more time. Like a year. Five, if the guy was a Foye. Apparently, they had reputations for being a little stubborn. Mason was under no illusions that he was going to convince that angry lady in the truck to be his forever love.

  He hadn’t told his brothers the rest of the dream. He knew exactly which woman was supposed to be his. Until the moment they’d lifted that tent, he’d hoped the dream wasn’t a true vision at all, but merely the result of sleep deprivation and drinking too many cans of Tecate.

  But there she was—angry as a scorpion and possibly the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. She was stunning with that halo of thick, curly hair and glowing skin. He thought she looked like some sort of wild goddess come to Earth to taunt mankind with her perfection. The captive named Ellery was very likely going to be the end of the two-legged Mason Foye.

  Mom lifted her hands upon approach. “Come on. Open it up and let ’em out. Don’t keep ’em waiting. I thought I raised you better than that.”

  “You tried.”

  She sighed.

  “There really isn’t an instruction manual for this sort of thing. They didn’t exactly come gently.”

  “If they had, you wouldn’t want them. Trust me on that. I was no easy target, let me tell you.”

  He believed it. He just bet she gave Dad hell. She never stopped giving him hell, but he usually deserved it. Mason grunted, wrapped his fingers around the top dome’s handle, and pulled the door up.

  The women didn’t budge. They sat in the back, huddled against each other in their inadequate-for-camping clothes, slumbering under a shared blanket. They were good friends, probably, and not just acquaintances. That’d make the transition easier for them.

  “Aw.” Mom pulled down the tailgate and climbed onto the truck bed. She eased in, cooing, “Wake up, girls. You’re home now. No one’s gonna hurt you.” She peeled the tape off the dark-haired short one’s mouth, and the little lady—Miles—immediately widened her eyes and drew in a breath.

  “Please help us!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “We’ve been kidnapped.”

  Mom patted Miles’s head and worked on Hannah’s tape next. “I know, honey. It’s their way, sometimes. I was taken, too, when I was just a girl of eighteen.” She rubbed the flowing tears on Miles’s cheeks with her thumb pads. “Everything will make sense soon enough, goddess willing. My boys may look intimidating, but they won’t hurt you on purpose.”

  Ellery, with her mouth still taped, grunted and rolled her eyes.

  Yeah, his girl had spunk. And he was supposed to figure out how to temper it without putting a stopper in it altogether? Mom was right. Weak Cougar mates were liabilities. He’d need her strong, yet capable of softness. He’d rather go to bed with a desert rose than a cactus, if he had to go to bed with either. He leaned onto the truck bed, watching her watch him. He was so screwed.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and her cheeks tightened from the smile beneath the tape. It was positively hostile—as if she knew what he was thinking and reveled in his impending doom.

  Mom started on Ellery’s tape.

  “Leave hers on,” he said. “I think she has some things to say that may offend your sensibilities.”

  “Oh, hush.” Mom peeled the tape.

  “Shit!” Ellery said when the tape
came off. She opened her mouth, moved her lips left and right, and scrunched her face. “That smarts like a motherfucker.”

  “Told you,” he said.

  “Give me your knife so I can cut the bindings.” Mom crawled back to the gate and held out her palm.

  “Just help them wiggle this way,” Sean said. “We need to work out who’s whose before they’re mobile.”

  “That sounds like the precursor to rape to me,” Miles said.

  “I raised them better than that, I swear I did.” Mom cut Sean an evil side-eye. “They may drive you nuts, but they won’t do that.”

  “I need to pee really bad, so I’ll be anyone’s for the five minutes it takes to find me a bathroom.”

  Mom helped Miles to the edge, and then Hannah, who—though pretty—looked like she’d murder a man in his sleep. She had the kind of glint in her eye that reminded him of a cat about to pounce, and he’d certainly seen that enough. Idly, he rubbed the long scar on his right forearm. How many fights had he been in just this year? Too many to count, and for what? Over an alpha position he didn’t even want half the time?

  Ellery came last, muttering obscene threats under her breath in that sultry voice that made his nuts tighten. Gods, he hated himself for being affected by it, but he couldn’t help what turned him on. She had a filthy vocabulary for a nurse. That’s what one of the little cards in her wallet identified her as. A nurse at a hospital in North Carolina. They were a long way from home. He hoped the folks from there wouldn’t miss her too much, because there was no way she was going back … at least not for a couple of weeks.

  As soon as Ellery dangled her legs over the edge, he took a bracing breath—guessing she was probably going to scratch him to smithereens—scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder.

  She kicked. “Dammit, don’t make this a habit.”

  He took off for his house, already patting his pockets for his keys.

  “Mason, wait,” Hank called. “We need to pick.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Mom muttered.