My Captive Valentine

by Elyce de Reefe

  They saw a deer jump over a fence of tangled vines and brush on one of the monitors, quickly followed by three more. The fence looked completely natural if you didn’t know what to look for. He’d explained they kept the perimeter defenses as camouflaged as possible. They were more to keep out the curious and limit the avenues of attack than actually provide security. But something more effective, such as eight-foot fences and razor wire, would attract more attention than they wanted.

  Gage insisted that should a true threat present itself, such as a person or a wolf, the alarm would be triggered. Privately, Bridget thought a wolf would need some kind of jetpack to get over that fence, but she didn’t say so. A person would get pretty scraped up trying to climb something like that too, but she’d concede that a truly determined person could probably get over. It made her wonder just what kind of threats they were defending against, but she figured with a secret this big, the answer was probably everyone.

  They’d played a few games of pool while they were down there on a beautiful hand-carved table, the like of which Bridget had never seen. It was fun, even though she lost all three games. She had in mind some kind of girl’s night pool tournament, or even conning the guys into giving them all lessons, although she hadn’t worked out all the details in her mind. But the basement sported a beautiful full-length cherry bar and fabulous hand-blown light fixtures, so the room had serious potential. Apparently, it was treated as a boys’ club at the moment, but she didn’t see why that had to be the case.

  This was the third training session she’d witnessed since she’d arrived. While the guys were really fun to watch, their actions graceful and coordinated, she was dying to try the joint lock, throw combination Dean had demonstrated earlier.

  She stood and stretched. Gage’s head snapped around and a moment later he went flying. Bridget smirked. She was tempted to call out something like, “What happened— lose your concentration?” But teasing him in front of his buddies didn’t seem right.

  She watched Lucas and Aaron who were sparring together instead, waiting for a break in the action. They were impressive, so well matched it was almost like watching a choreographed dance, their movements powerful and controlled.

  As she watched, Lucas captured Aaron’s attacking wrist and in one fluid motion dropped to his knee, using the joint lock and Aaron’s forward momentum to neatly flip the larger man over his shoulder— spinning and rising to his feet as he did so. Aaron landed on his shoulder and rolled, coming to his feet a moment later.

  The two paused, facing each other, and Bridget examined them. Aaron was larger and carried quite a bit more muscle, but Lucas was nearly as tall, with broad well-developed shoulders. He was light on his feet too, and very good at using his opponent’s weight and momentum against him. Wait. This was her chance.

  “Um… excuse me, Lucas?”

  All activity ceased at the sound of her voice; every single face swinging her way. Bridget felt heat creeping up her neck but ignored it. “Sorry to interrupt. Do you think I could try out that move?”

  Lucas eyed her for a moment. Nobody moved or spoke. Then he nodded.

  “As you wish. Come over here. You can work with Aaron.”

  Ut-oh. Aaron? Her eyes snapped to the blond man. Blue eyes regarded her impassively. He stood with his hands open and loose at this sides, but they looked almost as big as dinner plates. A vee of sweat glued his shirt to his impressive chest, which expanded visibly with his slightly labored breath.

  What have I gotten myself into? She’d been thinking maybe Jeff. Or Gage. Or possibly Dean. He was the smallest of them besides Jeff. Even so, he was taller than she was and a lot more muscular. But nothing like Aaron.

  “Um… okay.”

  She made her way across the gym, the men parting to let her through. This was not how she’d envisioned this going. She didn’t dare glance at Gage, but she could feel his gaze boring into her back as she walked past.

  It seemed to take a hundred years before she reached the spot Lucas indicated on the mat in front of Aaron. Her stomach clenched as she looked up—way farther than usual—into his impassive face. She wasn’t used to feeling small and vulnerable, and she didn’t like it a bit. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She had two classes to teach this afternoon.

  Everyone watched silently as Lucas showed her where to grab Aaron’s wrist to redirect the attack, how to twist it and drop to one knee, and then use his momentum to throw him over her shoulder. Except, of course, there was no momentum, since Aaron was just standing there letting her grab his wrist.

  “Go on,” Lucas said as she knelt with the huge blond bending over her, his arm bent in an awkward position.

  Bridget pulled gently on his arm, feeling like an idiot, and Aaron obligingly pushed off with his feet and summersaulted over her shoulder. She was still blinking in surprise when he came up grinning.

  “Again,” he said, and they went through the whole sequence again, in slow motion, and then again, and again, while the activity picked up around them.

  She was flushed and breathing hard by the time Lucas declared, “Enough.” But she was also grinning like a loon. This is fun.

  “Don’t ever try this on a man my size in real life,” Aaron instructed. “You won’t have enough strength to control his arm. What you want is a much simpler throw, using the element of surprise and your attacker’s momentum.”

  He demonstrated what he was talking about and they practiced the move a few more times before practice was over. The men passed around cold water bottles from a fridge in the back of the gym, and Gage brought one over for her. He had a funny expression on his face— something like a kicked puppy. She didn’t like it.

  She looked him up and down, eyebrows raised. “Looks like one of us is going to wait for the shower.” She paused, watching his expression shift slightly. “Race you!”

  She shot out of the garage, laughing, Gage hot on her heels. By the time she made it up the stairs, both hands spread out on the banisters to block him from getting by, he was exhorting her in rapid-fire French.

  Her high school language studies hadn’t really prepared her adequately for this type of thing, but she thought she caught the words ‘russet hen’ and something about running, but she wasn’t sure what. When she reached the bedroom door and turned to face him, he was grinning. She grinned back and placed both hands on his chest.

  “I win.” She sing-songed, and shoved him back hard, zipping inside the door and making sure it was securely locked. He was still calling to her in French as she made her way across the room to the shower.

  Had he really just called her his lovely little shrimp? She shook her head, still grinning.

  What a goof.

  ***

  Gage stared down at his phone, feeling grim. Mikey.

  A Detective Anderson was just here. Can you come?

  He glanced into Bridget’s classroom through the small rectangular window in the door. She was talking and drawing some kind of diagram on the whiteboard, completely absorbed in her work. But he couldn’t just leave. Even the thought of it made his skin crawl. It had been hard enough to get Lucas to agree to this to begin with.

  Sit tight, kid. I’ll be there soon.

  He scrolled through his contacts and pressed send, putting his phone to his ear. “Eli, I need a favor.” Eli was about the only person in the world he’d trust with something like this, but then he and Eli had been friends for years.

  It was almost an hour later by the time he made it to Mikey’s room. Anderson had posted a guard outside, which was both good and bad. Mostly bad. But Gage was a frequent visitor and his presence here shouldn’t cause any red flags. In fact, if he didn’t come, that might be enough to get the good detective’s attention. And the guard was here to keep Mikey from leaving, not to restrict his visitors. Gage signed in with the name he’s been using all along—Daniel Baines—and opened the door.

  Something eased inside him at the sight of the kid. It had been four days si
nce he’d visited, but under the circumstances, he hadn’t been able figure out a way to get here.

  Mikey’s color was a little better, more day-old porridge than curdled milk. He lay back against the pillows with his eyes closed, his hands relaxed at his sides over the covers. But there were still purple shadows under his eyes and a lingering tightness around his mouth.

  Gage pulled the door closed behind him and moved further into the room.

  “Hey, Mikey. I brought you a roast beef sandwich.” He laid the white paper deli bag on the rolling hospital table. “Congratulations on getting off clear liquids.”

  “Thanks.” Mikey gave him a weak smile, but his body was suddenly tense and alert.

  “I had the guy cut it into quarters. Don’t try to eat more than that at one time, okay? One of the nurses can put the rest in the fridge for you.”

  “Okay.” The one word was cautious.

  Gage pulled the guest chair up to the bed and lowered his voice. “So, tell me what happened. Anderson was here?”

  “Yeah,” Mikey said quietly. “He asked me what happened, and I told him I didn’t remember. Like you said.”

  “Good. That’s good, kid.” Gage patted Mikey’s shoulder, but the kid didn’t look happy.

  “He kept asking me about some guy named Cray Long.” Mikey was watching Gage carefully. “Described him and everything.”

  “You don’t say.” Gage felt his heart rate pick up. “And what did you answer?”

  “Never heard of the guy. Which is the truth.”

  Gage nodded. He had absolutely nothing he wanted to add to that.

  “Daniel. Why are you here?”

  “I heard you were lonely, Mikey. Everybody needs someone to visit them when they’re in the hospital. Don’t you have any family, kid?”

  “No.” The one word was short. “That’s not important.” The kid looked determined, but he smelled of fear. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “There are lots of things I’m not telling you.” He put a hand on one slim shoulder. “Things that I can’t tell you. But the truth is, it’s important to me you stay safe. Very important.” He stared into Mikey’s bleak hazel eyes. “Do you believe me?”

  The kid looked away, shaking his head. Then he looked back, meeting Gage’s eyes.

  “Yeah. I guess I do. Maybe. But I don’t know why.” He swallowed. “I know it was you.” He indicated his prostrate form with a gesture. I just— I don’t know what changed.” He reached a shaky hand up to rub at his forehead. “Probably, I’m losing my mind.”

  The kid’s next words were almost silent, but Gage heard them. “You cut me to ribbons.”

  Gage’s chest felt tight. He didn’t know what to say.

  Mikey glanced up suddenly, looking very young, his face anguished. “It was because of that woman, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So— what changed?”

  Something twisted inside his chest. “You’re just a kid. I think you can do better.”

  Mikey looked away. “I didn’t want anything to do with that. That’s why I took the upstairs bedroom.”

  He looked back at Gage, his expression grim, regret flooding his scent. “I’m a coward. I deserve to die. I didn’t do one thing to help her. Did they… Did they hurt her?”

  “No, Mikey. We got her back.”

  He nodded, dropping his gaze. “That’s good.” He covered his face with his hand. A moment later, his shoulders shook with silent tears.

  Gage let him cry. He could smell the anguish and self-loathing. Suddenly Mikey reminded Gage a little of Jeff, kicked out of his pack much too young, without the guidance he needed to develop.

  After a while Mikey wiped at his eyes, and Gage handed him the tissue box. He blew his nose and got himself together.

  He looked up at Gage then, his expression still bleak. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up and you know you should be dead? To spend all of your time thinking about what you could have done differently? What you should have done differently? I thought they killed her.” His voice broke and he wiped at his eyes again. And then suddenly he was sobbing.

  “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. Your emotions do you credit. You made a mistake, but you got lucky. The consequences weren’t what they could have been.”

  Gage placed a hand on the back of the boy’s bent neck, squeezing lightly on the vulnerable flesh. The frail shoulders still shook, the scent of grief coming off him in waves. “Listen,” he said gently. “I can’t teach you how to be… what you are. But I can teach you the important things. Loyalty. Honor. Respect. For yourself, and for others. Is that something you want?”

  Mikey looked up through a sheen of tears. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Gage felt something slide into place inside him. There was an unexplained warmth in his chest. “You are no longer without family. I am adopting you.” He paused, looking down at the thin, frail figure. “You are my son.”

  Mikey’s mouth dropped open. He stared mutely up at Gage.

  “You did the right thing, Mikey, calling me. Just keep telling the police that you can’t remember anything, and I will get you out of this.” Somehow.

  “I can’t tell you more. But know that I am watching out for you. We will be watching this place in case anyone tries to get to you. And you will have a chance to prove yourself. Your loyalty. Your worthiness.”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Not yet, but you will.” Gage clapped him on the shoulder, careful not to squeeze too hard. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, kid. And we’ve got some bad guys to catch.”

  “But… How?”

  “We will set a trap.” Gage wasn’t sure how exactly. Not yet. But one thing he did know.

  Nobody threatens Pack.

  ***

  Mike stared after Daniel as the tall man slipped through the door and pulled it closed softly behind him. He moved with the stealth and grace of a predator. Which he is. Not a bad person to have on your side, Mikey. If he truly was.

  Mikey. No one had ever given him a nickname before. He liked it. Probably too much.

  Adopted. He laughed softly and blinked back a rush of tears. Man. He was like a leaky faucet. What would he have given to hear that word all those years growing up in the system? But nobody wanted a half-feral kid who was already eight by the time his parents finally managed to bite it.

  And now, two months shy of his nineteenth birthday, after fucking up his life but good— this.

  Not that he trusted Daniel. How could he? The man had shredded him like confetti. And then put him back together. Why?

  He remembered watching it happen— that weird sense of detachment he’d felt at the time, making it hard to really take in. But he couldn’t get it out of his head, either. Staring down at the scene from above as a dark-haired man wrapped a bloody, roughly man-shaped lump in strips of cloth. Moving quickly, with sharp precision, the man had created a neat, multi-colored package of the body. Something between sausage casing and gift wrap, with the ends of the strips hanging down like ribbon.

  It was like watching a movie. He remembered thinking someone was going through a lot of trouble, and wondering why. Then the package rolled slightly as the man worked and the face flopped into view. Mike remembered the shock of realizing it was him.

  There was a sudden sense of urgency then. A rushing sensation, of moving fast, like a bird of prey swooping down—and then—pain. Red, throbbing pain, like a beating heart. And then blackness.

  The doctors all seemed surprised that he had woken at all. They tried to hide it, but he could tell from the intent way they watched him and the questions they asked. It was clear that no one had expected him to live. And it was almost impossible to believe he’d been lying in this bed, unconscious, for months and months. But he had.

  It had taken him days to come to terms with the strange memories that flashed through his mind. That horror show creature bursting through the window and slamming him into the opposite wall with such
force he’d almost blacked out. A human face—Daniel’s face—changing, morphing into a fanged, starling monster. Claws springing out like Edward Scissorhands’ and taking him apart like he was made of butter.

  And then— putting him back together? Why?

  Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…

  But when Anderson came around with questions, Mike knew he couldn’t answer them. No one would believe the truth, and the big boss would have him killed for sure if he answered the ones he could.

  He had a feeling he knew why Humpty jumped. Sometimes your only play is one big wild gamble. And maybe you’ll crash and burn, but at least you’ll know you’d made a play for freedom. So he’d texted Daniel. Who knew? Maybe it would pay off.

  He reached over and grabbed the white paper bag off the table. Unwrapping the roast beef hero, he took a bite, feeling his taste buds stir to life. Worth a shot anyway.

  Adopted. He shook his head, remembering the feeling of a warm hand kneading the back of his neck, the weight of a comforting hand on his shoulder. He took another bite, feeling the robust tastes of the beef and the mayo play over starved senses. Worth a shot.

  Chapter 12

  Greg Rivio drummed his fingers on his deck chair, trying to resist the urge to snarl into the phone. “I don’t understand how one woman can disappear so completely.”

  “There are literally no leads. There’s just nothing to go on.”

  A brown pelican flew over the glassy surface of the water, looking for fish. He felt just as useless as the ungainly creature. And just as fruitless. He’d been searching for months, cooling his heels here in Florida since that debacle with the kidnapping. And Big Lonnie was getting impatient.

  But Elizabeth Brown, his one-time employee, was not going to be the one to bring Greg Rivio down. He clenched his fist. He was tired of hiding. Tired of running, and if he didn’t produce the woman’s head on a platter soon, that head was going to be his.