by Julia Talbot
Oh good gracious. What good was this safe room supposed to do him? He didn’t have the combination to the safe. He tried to press the door closed, but something blew it back at him, and Rey went flying across the floor.
He slammed against the back of the wall, and the world went black.
“MICK! MICK, we’re under attack!” James’s voice came across their headsets, and Dylan felt a cold ball of dread form in the pit of his belly.
“Merda!” Brock’s vicious curse was plain as day. “Get to the safe room, James!”
“I sent Rey. I need to keep everyone in the loop. They’ll be after his scent, not mine.”
A terrible sound came over the headsets, a desperate grinding that sounded like the screech of metal when a train derailed.
“I—The crocs are here, guys. Stay away, okay? Just stay safe.” The bang and crash of some kind of explosion wiped out their comms, snuffing out James’s voice, leaving nothing but feedback.
Dylan ripped off his headset. He was gonna… what? Puke? Cry? He ran toward where Mick was meant to meet Patel.
“Boss!”
There was a flash of light and he ducked and rolled, heading straight for Mick.
That smell hit him, the awful funk of stagnant water and reptile. “Down!” Dylan roared.
They rolled together, and he covered Mick, defending his Alpha with his own body.
Brock slid in next to them, turning his back to Dylan to provide cover fire if needed. Where the hell was Kit?
The big bear roared, the sound cracking through the air, then a broad, thick croc head went flying off into a nearby doorway.
Bear had shifted.
Dylan looked around, trying to assess the situation and finding only chaos.
“We need to retreat, Dylan. We have to get home.” Brock’s voice was a deep growl, his accent so heavy Dylan could barely make out the words.
“I know! Mick, you with us?” He hoped to hell Mick wasn’t shot or something.
Another roar, another head. Wow. Kit’s fury was glorious to behold. He’d seen some ultimate fighter thing once where a bear had so much pounds per pressure in a single swing or whatever, even a black bear and not a grizzly. Kit was proving it.
“With you. Have to get home.” Mick was at about eighty-five percent growl.
“We should have stayed.” Dylan might have snarled it, but he got Mick up, got him moving. He could hold a grudge later.
“Kit! Come on! We have to get James!” Mick shouted the words above the screams and grunts.
Kit roared, dropping to all fours to run in front of them. No one stood in his way, not cops, not crocs. They all dove for safety. Kit seemed larger than normal, kind of like the dire crocs had called out a dire bear.
Please, Dylan prayed, let Rey be locked in the safe room. Let his mate be whole and well. He’d never disregard his Rey’s vibrations again. Never.
All they had to do was get back to the office. That was what he chose to believe.
They loaded Mick into the van, the big wolf still dazed. Brock was at the wheel. “Someone get Kit in here!”
Dylan whirled around, grabbing a big handful of fur. “In, bear! Now!”
Kit smelled awful, goo and gore dripping from him. His dark eyes were filled with rage, with raw fury.
Berserker.
Dylan shoved Kit over next to Mick, who was more than a little pale. “Are you hit, boss?”
“Just impact damage. That’s it. We need to get to the HQ.” Mick’s voice was strong, at least.
“I’m working on it!” Brock gunned the engine, but something hit the back end of the van, spinning them part way around, the tires squealing.
“Go! Go! Go!” Fuck. His tiny mate was at the office with these fuckers!
Brock floored it and they burned out, the sound of sirens blaring as they left the lot. Good. The local LEOs could do cleanup.
“Dylan, my phone,” Brock shouted. “I can call in some backup. I know some guys.”
“Are they ‘shoot the fox on sight’ people like you?” he snarled.
“Stop it! I….”
“Enough!” Mick snapped.
Dylan shook it off. “I won’t apologize, but it’s not doing any good.” He found the phone. “Who am I calling?”
“Just pair it with the van.”
“On it.” He paired the phone, trying not to short out with worry.
Brock made the call, the name unfamiliar. “Call Griz.” When a gruff voice answered, Brock hailed the guy. “Hey, homem, I need back up at my office location. Croc shifter attack. We were drawn off site, but our communications man and our client are there. Fox and mountain lion. Thanks.” Brock ended the call. “Help on the way.”
“Thank you.” He would beat Brock down after Rey and James were safe.
Hell, at this rate, Brock would let him, he’d bet. To a point.
Kit sat on the floor of the van, naked and shivering. “My bag, boss?”
“You got it, kiddo.” Mick handed over the backpack.
“Rey and James? Have you heard from them?”
“No. Not since the attack.” Worry ate at Dylan, but he knew he had to channel it into efficient, cool-headed rage.
“Now we know that Kit knows how to deal with the crocs, it’ll be easy,” Mick teased.
Kit snorted. “Was it bad? I mean, I cut a swath.”
“You did fine, Kit.” Dylan had been impressed. Damn impressed. Bear-3. Crocs-0.
“Thanks. I guess I do know what to do, then.” Kit’s smile was strained.
“Yeah, and I just called in another bear and whoever he has available to help.”
“No shit.” Mick looked to the driver’s seat. “Damn.”
“Griz is amazing. Old friend.”
Dylan looked at Brock too, stunned. “You have friends?”
Brock bared his teeth without taking his eyes off the road. “I do. I said I was sorry.”
“Did you?” Dylan sighed. “We should have listened. I’ll never forgive myself if—”
“You’d know if he was… well, you’d know. You’re mates. He’ll be fine.”
“If he ever forgives me,” Dylan rumbled, distressed.
Kit touched his arm. “He’s a good guy. You’ll work it out.”
“I will.” He had to. Dylan loved Rey too much not to.
And he would apologize all over himself, grovel, and promise to never do it again.
Rey had been right. Something terrible had happened and they shouldn’t have left.
Brock took a corner on two wheels, tossing Dylan against the seat. “Oooph.”
“Just trying to get us there.”
“Uh-huh. You just want me broken and bruised.”’
“You know it. My life is infinitely better when you guys are all broken up.” That kitty lip curled.
God, he wished Brock could just… breathe. Stop taking everything so personally.
They rounded the final corner that led to the lot of their building and—
Oh Christ, the place was gonna fall down.
Mick gawked. “Motherfucker.”
“We need to…. Mick, James and Rey are in here.” Kit sounded broken.
“We’ll get them out.” Mick sounded pissed now rather than weak. That was good. Pissed-off Mick was the superior wolf. “Sniff them out, Kit. Brock, we need that backup now.”
“Their ETA’s two minutes.” Brock slid them into the lot at their building like a baseman rounding third and going for home.
“Got it. You keep watch. I’m going around. Dylan, keep Kit’s back.”
“James said Rey went to the safe room in the basement. I’m going to fuzz out again, Dylan. I can smell better that way.”
“Okay, try to stay in there for me, though. Think human.”
“I’ll try.”
Kit could lose his manly side a bit.
They headed into the destroyed building, Kit’s unhappy growls getting louder and louder.
“Kit. Come on, man, we need Re
y and James. Our pack. Our den.”
Smoke and sparks were on the air, and the fire department would come soon. Dammit. Then Dylan saw a golden paw dangling in the rubble.
“James!” Dylan loped over the mess, hoping Kit was finding his mate. He lifted sheetrock off James’s mountain lion form. James was unconscious, but his chest was moving, drawing shaky breaths.
Dylan had to dare to move him. The rest of the building could come down anytime. “I’m going to move you, James. No biting. Wake up, huh? Let me see your eyes?” James lifted his head slightly, golden eyes barely slitted open. “It’s me, Dylan. I’ll take you to Brock, but I have to find Rey.”
He needed his mate. Whole and hale and hearty.
There was nothing on that front. Absolutely nothing.
Rey wasn’t dead. He knew it. He couldn’t bear it if Rey was gone after only a couple of days. Everyone said he would know too. So what was this? Was Rey unconscious?
Kit came to him, big head swinging side to side.
“What, man? Let me get James out.” The cat was viciously heavy.
Kit nudged him, making this awful noise, and for a terrible moment he thought Kit had found Rey. Then he realized what the headshake meant. Kit hadn’t.
“He’s not here? Kit? You can’t find him?”
Kit moaned, the sound mournful. He shook his head again.
“We have to get James help. Then I have to find him. What about the safe?” He headed back toward the van, picking his way carefully.
Kit disappeared with a roar, heading back into the mess.
“Brock. James is hurt bad.” He laid James on the floor of the van.
Brock growled softly. “You found your mate?”
“No. Kit thinks he’s not here. I have to find him.” Dylan would take one of the company cars and head for… the mansion they’d seen on the video, maybe.
“What about the safe?” Mick asked. “Did they get that?”
Dylan understood the question. He did. If they had the SIM card, there was no reason to keep Rey alive.
“Kit is looking.”
A roar sounded, and Mick ran off again. A few moments later they heard Mick shouting, “It’s here!”
“Okay. Okay, we have to get hold of the fucker and make the swap,” Dylan snapped. “You know they have Rey.”
A big SUV squealed up, two burly types popping out. “Brock. What do you need?” asked one of the men.
“Dylan’s mate has been taken, guys. Dylan, this is Grizzly Locke and… and friend,” Brock finished when the other big guy never said a word.
“Thanks for coming, guys. I need to find my mate.” He headed for the back parking.
Mick jogged back to him. “No. You need to drive the van while I call and make the meet.”
“But….”
“I will help you get him back, Dylan. You have my word.”
“I think I might just die, Mick.” His whole body felt heavy, his head pounding. Knowing Rey was taken by those… things made him sick and worried.
“No. We need you. Rey needs you.”
“He needs all of us. Promise me.”
“Pack. He’s pack. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” He climbed into the van, right into the driver’s seat. Kit would have to patch up James if he could, and Brock would be coordinating with his new guys. He felt old. Decrepit. His joints hurt as if he was trying to shift back before Rey came along.
“Buck up, Dylan. We’ll get him. He’s got to be wigged as hell.”
“If he’s conscious. There’s just this hole where he ought to be. What if they’re hurting him?”
Kit grunted, the man emerging from the bear as he climbed into the van. He pulled on clothes before kneeling by James. “Hey, buddy. I’m touching, so no biting.”
Dylan snorted, because that was what he’d said.
James chuffed softly, staring up at him with dazed eyes.
“Hey, bud. You know Kit. He’s got to find where you’re hurt so he can fix it.”
He knew Mick had to get the safe open, but he had to move. To search.
James sighed, and Mick worked the safe. “Got it. Got the SIM card. Let’s make the trade.”
Dylan nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Brock, your guys need to be on our heels.” Mick was back on even ground, it seemed, ready to work.
“We’re moving. Do you know where we’re going?” Brock headed to the vehicle the new guys had arrived in.
Dylan frowned, trying to catch a thought he’d had earlier, and then jerked like lightning had hit him. The pool. That pool. “The house Rey found.”
“The one up by the gardens? Got it.”
“We’re on your ass,” Brock said.
Dylan nodded, closing the driver’s door while Mick closed the van’s slider.
“Go, go, go,” Mick said, then tugged out his phone to call the tiger, Dylan assumed.
I’m coming, Rey. He was. He was getting his mate and….
Well, he didn’t have an and.
All he could do was get there fast and kick some croc ass. His mate was not bait. Not a commodity.
“Patel,” Mick barked. “Your methods suck. I have the SIM card. Where’s our fox?”
Dylan hated that he couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.
“Don’t you fuck with me, man. You lost a few crocs already.” Mick said it with savage satisfaction.
Dylan turned off on the highway, knowing he could gun it that way. He wasn’t willing to sit at red lights.
Mick snarled. “You touch him, I’ll let our bear eat you.”
They had two bears now. And another huge guy who could surely rip off croc heads. “I’ll eat his fucking eyes out,” Dylan murmured.
“We’ll be there.” Mick said, then hung up. “He wants to meet us at the gardens. I think we’ll just run him down at the house. It’s a rental and a marvel of modern architecture. Even a guy like him won’t want it destroyed.”
“I don’t care if I have to tear it down with my bare hands,” Dylan spat out.
Mick nodded, baring his teeth. “We take Rey, we keep the SIM card, and we get the hell out.”
“Got it.” Kit growled. “James is down for the fight. We’ll have to make sure he’s secure.”
“He’s going to make it?” Mick asked.
“Yeah, but his body is using all its energy now to heal. He has some crush injuries and one bad head bump.”
Mick’s rumble didn’t bode well for the tiger man. Not at all.
“How are you, Kit?”
“Ready to get Rey back. Where are we going to go, Mick? They ruined our home.” Kit’s soft agony was so clear.
“We’ll get something even better. Something that even Dylan will stay with us at, huh?” Mick winked at him from across the way.
Dylan grunted. Yeah, having James and Rey there had worked out so well.
“All my Doctor Who stuff….” Kit sighed.
“We’ll fix it, Kit. Believe. First this.”
“Rey,” Dylan snapped. “First Rey.”
“There’s time for my ‘I’m sorries’ later, Dylan. And I will.” Mick was always willing to own up to when he was wrong; he had to give the man that. He was a good Alpha.
“I just need him back in my arms, Mick.”
“We’re almost there. We’re going in hot.”
Dylan nodded, checking the rearview. Brock was right on their six, riding his bumper. They weren’t going in alone at all. The new guys were a bit of a wild card, something Patel wouldn’t expect.
Then they had their own bear, Brock’s friends, and Dylan’s own personal rage. Kit was awesome in his rampage mode. They would run this tiger to ground, and they wouldn’t stop until they had him beaten.
Suddenly he heard a scream, a wild noise echoing between his ears.
Relief made his hands shake on the wheel. Rey was alive. Alive and able to reach out to him.
“I can hear him, guys. Rey. He says Patel is batshit
crazy. Like, totally lost his shit.”
“Goodie. Someone tell me James made backups of the SIM card.”
“Three.” Kit shrugged when they all stared at him. “He sent one to the cloud, made one on a hard copy, and had one saved locally. So we should have the one on the cloud even if we’ve lost all the hard drives from upstairs.”
“How do you know?”
“I was upstairs talking to James.” Kit rolled his eyes. “I do visit with people, you know.”
“Shut up.” The refrain from Mick was fond. “Okay, good. We have leverage.”
“Leverage and guns.” Dylan was all over the “I’m pissed and I’m armed” approach.
“Yeah. Well, he might be well-armed too.”
“I don’t think so, boss,” Kit said. “Those crocs are his weapons. Maybe it’s hard for him to get because he’s a foreign national, but ammo doesn’t seem to be his thing.”
“Still, none of us are armor-plated. You hear me, bear?” Mick growled.
“I got it.” Kit stroked James’s ears. “Hang in there, buddy.”
James turned his head, teeth gently grasping Kit’s wrist.
“That’s it.” Kit sounded tickled that James was that mobile. Dylan didn’t blame him one bit.
“Lock and load,” Dylan said, pulling off at the exit closest to the mansion Patel was renting.
“I won’t leave your mate behind, Dylan,” Mick growled.
“No. That’s not an option.” No one was going to get out of there until he got Rey.
Not even close.
REY FOCUSED on staying perfectly still and pretending to be unconscious.
“…tell those idiots that I will buy them out, no question. I will take the company and leave them sobbing in their nappies!”
Was that even how it worked? Gracious, Rey didn’t know. He didn’t care. He wanted to be out of here and with Dylan, away from the craziness.
He was in fox form, trapped in a little wire cage, a croc draped over the top of him.
The stink was… unbearable.
He knew Dylan could hear him, and that gave him hope. Was James okay? He had a feeling not. The building had fallen on him. Well, parts of it, at any rate, and that was never well-done.
