Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle

by Daniella Wright

  He pulled back and smiled down at her. She was too astonished to react, and scared of what she would do or say if she did.

  “You hold yourself back,” he said. “You are very restrained and controlled. Have you ever wondered who, or what you might be if you let yourself go?” His eyes seemed to look right inside her. He went on, “I am not free because I am a billionaire. I am a billionaire because I am free.”

  She gave a small gasp, trying to conceal the powerful flood of emotions he had unleashed. She blinked a couple of times and said, “Well, you are certainly not inhibited, are you?”

  “Not even a little. Your smell, under that expensive perfume, is fantastic. It is very primal. I would love to smell you without the perfume.”

  Her heart pounded. He laughed as though he could hear it. She said, “OK, I think I would like you to back off now.”

  “No can do, Maria, but I’ll give you some space. Let’s talk about your work. It fascinates me.”

  “Yes, lets. What would you like to know?”

  “I am going to put a lot of money into your department. I haven’t decided yet how much, but it will either be lots or lots more. I’d like to know how you plan to use it.”

  She eyed him a moment.

  “The answer to that comes in two parts. I aim to understand how the wolf DNA has evolved, how it is different from dogs – even wild dogs – and why some wolves are intensely social, while occasionally you get the fabled ‘lone wolf. I believe some of this is hardwired through DNA, but other aspects may be learned behavior.”

  “All extremely interesting. That is part one. What is part two.”

  “I think you know. Part two is that I will not tolerate any interference in my research. I don’t care how clever you are as a dilettante, or how much money you put into the department. I will conduct my research according to scientific principles and my own scientific objectives. That is not negotiable.”

  She sipped.

  He studied her for a moment, still smiling, then said, “Come, I would like you to meet some people.”

  He took her arm and navigated her through sparkling guests to a small group who stood by a plate glass wall with sliding doors onto a terrace. A huge moon was rising over Manhattan, idly tinting a few scattered clouds with turquoise light. As he approached, several of the group excused themselves and moved off, leaving only an elegant woman of a certain age, and a tall, thin man whom even an exquisite, tailored suit could not make elegant.

  Mark said, “Mother, Zoltan, this is Dr Maria Garcia, the extraordinary woman I was telling you about. Maria, this is my mother, Sylvia, and Zoltan, an old friend of the family.”

  Sylvia smiled warmly and, taking her hands, kissed her gently on each cheek.

  “My dear, you are every bit as lovely as Mark said you were.”

  Zoltan took her hand and kissed it in a formal, old world way that managed to be quite nauseating.

  “Enchanting.”

  Sylvia said, “Mark tells me you are doing wonderful work with wolves. We are, as a family, fascinated by them. We always have been.”

  Maria was surprised, and a little skeptical. “Really?”

  Mark said, “So you see, it is not just the idle fancy of a dilettante. It is, you might say, in my blood.”

  Sylvia seemed to observe Maria for a second before saying, “The name, you know…”

  “MacTire?”

  “Yes, it has nothing to do with the Scottish Mac, meaning son of.”

  “Mac Tíre is Irish, it means wolf.”

  “Precisely. The name is at least a thousand years old, and very rare. Mark’s ancestor had a special rapport with wolves and received the name Wolf from his clan. They said that in battle he actually became a wolf.” She gave a small laugh. “We Irish have always been fanciful in that way.”

  Maria offered a lopsided smile. “This is controversial territory. The wolf-man legend is almost as old as modern man himself, as is the relationship between wolves and humans. You know we share about ninety percent of our DNA with wolves, and there is some evidence in my research that suggests that through a peculiar combination of the action of retroviruses and shared DNA, the so called ‘werewolf’ or wolf-man, actually existed at one time.”

  Mark put his arm around her and grinned broadly at his mother and Zoltan. “You see?” he said, “She is amazing. I want her for my birthday!”

  She looked up at him, wanting to shake him off, but enjoying the feel of his arm and the warmth of his body. Annoyingly, she was also aware of his smell, and liked it. She said, “Take it easy, wolf-man. Don’t get carried away.”

  Zoltan wheezed with laughter and his eyes creased into little half moons. He wagged a finger, “Be careful, Dr Garcia, Mark always gets what he wants.”

  She gave him a frigid look which he happily ignored. “Well this time, he may have got more than he bargained for.”

  Two

  She excused herself at about eleven and made her way home. As she crossed the Brooklyn Bridge the moon hung fat and succulent over the ocean, offering her a golden path towards something inexpressibly beautiful. But she gave it no more that a wry smile. She knew well that if she put one foot on that golden path, she would sink without a trace into cold, dark waters.

  By the time she reached 16th Street, near Prospect Park, it was almost midnight. She pulled into her drive and climbed out of her car. The street was quiet and the slam of her door echoed, harsh against the sleeping houses. The light from the streetlamps glowed through the leaves of the trees, and for a moment she felt unaccountably afraid. She locked the car with a loud bleep and made her way towards her front door.

  A noise behind her made her stop and turn.

  It was standing at the entrance to her driveway, watching her. It was largely in shadow, and impossible to make out in detail, but she could have sworn, by the size and the silhouette, that it was a large, Siberian tundra wolf. It seemed to sniff the air. She went cold and felt the hair on her arms and her head prickle as it walked towards her. With a strange thrill, she hunkered down and offered it the palm of her hand. The light from the lamp caught its gray fur and its amber eyes.

  “You are…” she whispered. “You are a beauty. You’re a damned tundra wolf…”

  It smelled her hand, then moved in close and smelled her face. She giggled as it moved its snout down to her ear and her neck, where Mark had smelt her earlier that evening. It let out a soft growl, withdrew, leapt easily over the garden wall and loped off down the road, towards the park.

  She stood a while, looking at the empty space where it had been, wondering if she had hallucinated it. After a while she unlocked the door and went in. She didn’t bother putting on the light. She left her bag and coat in the hall and climbed the stairs.

  She brushed her teeth in the stark glare of the bathroom, then switched off and went straight to her bedroom. The evening had been more exhausting than she had expected. She undressed and fell into bed. She didn’t like social functions. On the whole she didn’t like people much. She preferred animals. They were more direct, more honest.

  Why then, she asked herself as she closed her eyes and drifted off. Did she dislike Mark? She had probably never met anyone so direct or so honest. But there was something unsettling about him. Something predatory, as though a savage, uninhibited animal lived just beneath his urbane, sophisticated skin.

  A wolf, she thought, as she drifted off.

  She wasn’t sure at first what woke her up. She had heard something. It might have been in her dream. She wasn’t sure. She lay awake, staring at the shadows beyond her open bedroom door. The house was silent and dark.

  Then a rustle, a movement just on the edge of hearing. Again, but not enough to be sure. She rose up on one elbow. She could sense a presence, but had trained herself out of listening to her instincts, to her animal senses. She was a scientist. She dealt in empirical facts, not feelings.

  But then there was a creak, a clear, distinct creak on the stairs. And then
another. And then a rush of feet.

  She screamed before she saw them. It was the rush of feet that made her scream. They crashed in through the door, one after another. There were three or maybe four of them, dressed in black. She was scrambling out of bed, naked, reaching for the bedside lamp. She knocked it over and it fell to the floor. She was overwhelmed by huge bodies closing in on her. A bag went over her head. Terror scorched her belly. She struggled to run but powerful arms gripped her. She felt the bed sheet being wrapped around her tight. Then straps or ropes biting in, immobilizing her arms and legs. She screamed again. The hood was lifted above her nose and a strip of duct tape was slammed over her mouth. An ugly voice spoke in her ear.

  “Shut up and you won’t get hurt.”

  Strong hands gripped her and she was carried down the stairs. She heard the front door open and then the night air on her skin. Her panic was a wild thing thrashing inside her. She couldn’t think. A voice in her head kept telling her this could not be happening. It was impossible. She heard a trunk open. She was dumped onto something hard and she heard the trunk close. Then everything was muffled. She heard the engine start and they began to move.

  They drove for about an hour, maybe a little less. She struggled to stay cool and think, but every so often a wave of despair and panic would wash over her, draining her of her strength and her resolve.

  Finally they came to a halt. She heard the car doors slam like a volley of shots, and then the trunk opened. Hands grabbed her brutally and dragged her out. Incongruously she heard birds singing and wondered if it was the dawn chorus. That would make it about four AM. In the distance a ship groaned a lonely howl across the river.

  She was bundled through a door and carried laboriously up some stairs. She was aware they were narrow and creaked a lot. The building was probably old. Her brain was beginning to work, fitting things together. The nature of the house, the proximity of the ships or barges, the presence of birds – her instinct told her she was in the Bronx. And that made a sick hollow in her belly.

  Why would somebody kidnap her and bring her to the Bronx? White slaving? But why her? Why a college professor for God’s sake? Why risk the police hunt that would inevitably follow.

  They maneuvered through another door and she felt herself swung and then thrown. She tensed but landed on a bed that creaked and wobbled like old springs.

  A voice she recognized said, “I will open. Go, go.”

  Heavy feet and bodies lumbered out of the room. The hood was tugged from her head. She stared up in disbelief at the face grinning down at her, still dressed in his exquisitely cut suit. He reached down, flicked the corner of the duct tape and ripped it off in a quick movement.

  She said, “Zoltan? What the hell do you think you are doing?”

  He wheezed his weird laugh and creased up his eyes.

  “You must be very surprised to see me? You probably expected anybody but me? Am I right?”

  She could only repeat, “What the hell?”

  She looked around the room. It was small and filthy. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling. The walls, once a ghastly pink, were now peeling paint and flaking plaster. The floors were rough boards. She was sitting on a bare mattress, on a steel-framed bed. Zoltan watched her and shook his head.

  “Maria, Maria, things are so seldom what they are seeming to be. Isn’t it? Now, I want untie you and make you comfortable, but I must be sure you are not doing anything stupid.”

  She gaped at him. “I’m not doing anything stupid? Have you any idea how stupid what you have done is? I’m a fucking college professor, Zoltan! Your friend Mark is investing hundreds of thousands of dollars in my department! My research is high profile. I am in the media for crying out loud! How long do you think it will be before the cops are combing the whole damned city for me?”

  He listened to her with a kind of idiot grin on his face. He said, “Yes…”

  “What do you mean, ‘yes’? Untie me and let me go home!”

  His grin deepened. “Noooo… You have to stay. If you try to escape, boys are all over house and will give you good smacking. I don’t want break your bones or kill you, but if necessary…” he spread his hands and shrugged. “What to do? Right?”

  “You’re insane…”

  His face lit up with glee. “Oooh, nooo! I get good price for you! Very good price! Soon nice people come for you.”

  “What?”

  “So, I untie you, you good girl. OK?”

  She nodded mechanically. As he cut her bonds she hugged the sheet closer around her. She said, “You are selling me? What the hell is going on, Zoltan?”

  “Now I take you in with other girls. Soon you see everything clear. You see.”

  He led her across a narrow landing and through another door. This room was bigger. There was a double bed, also a threadbare sofa and a couple of shabby armchairs. Six frightened-looking girls sat around staring at her and Zoltan. She took in their hair and their clothes and concluded they were all hookers. She turned and stared at him.

  “Do you understand, Zoltan? I am a college professor. Do you understand that?”

  He grinned and laughed and wheezed and patted her arm. “Everything become clear soon. Very soon client is coming for you and some other lucky girl.”

  Three

  He left the room and she stared around at the other girls.

  “Does any of you know what’s going on?”

  There was a lot of head-shaking, shrugging and muttering. She caught the words “Crazy ass shit…” and “Don’t ask me…” but nobody made eye contact.

  Nobody except one young girl who looked different to the rest. She was young, barely in her twenties, and very blonde. She looked like she could be Scandinavian. She said, “What happened to your clothes?”

  Maria looked down at her sheet.

  “I was in bed.”

  The girl’s eyes widened.

  “They took you from your home?”

  Maria nodded. They stared at each other a moment. Maria asked, “What about you?”

  The girl sighed. She looked like she might start crying.

  “I was stupid. I was at a party. I had a row with my boyfriend and I decided to walk home. I got lost…”

  “Who are these people?” She looked around the room. “Does anybody know?”

  There was more head-shaking and muttering.

  The girl said, “My name is Leah.”

  “Maria.” And after a moment she added, “We’ll get out of this, Leah. Don’t worry. They picked on the wrong woman here.”

  A few of the girls glanced at her. Some snorted.

  The sky was turning pale through the window when they heard the car engine. It pulled up outside and died. A door slammed and echoed in the pre-dawn gray, and moments later they heard voices and feet on the stairs. The door opened and Maria gaped. A wild terror of incomprehension gripped her. A voice was screaming in her head that this did not make sense. None of this made any sense.

  She stared and said, “Sylvia…?”

  Sylvia looked at her with eyes that showed no recognition. Behind her stood Zoltan with a couple of huge thugs with impassive faces. Sylvia moved slowly around the room surveying the girls. The ghost of a smile touched her lips when she saw Leah.

  “They are all trash, Zoltan, and you know it. But I’ll take her,” she pointed at Maria, “as you knew I would, and the little blonde for Cún. Usual price.”

  Zoltan bowed. “That will be most satisfactory – for the little blond. Doctor is more. The risk…” he shrugged. “I have to send my men to Brooklyn. They will look for her. Doctor is double.”

  Sylvia looked resentful. “She had better be worth it All right. Take them to my car.”

  With that she swept out of the room. Zoltan pointed to Maria and Leah. “You and you. Come!”

  Maria screamed, “You have got to be kidding!”

  Leah was whimpering, “What is happening? Somebody please…”

  One of the thugs hauled he
r to her feet. The other grabbed Maria by the arm. Zoltan stepped up to her and thrust his face into hers. “No joke, Doctor. And please remember, they don’t need you in one piece. Is OK if bones are broken. Enjoy the ride, college professor.”

  They could still hear him laughing as they were dragged down the stairs and into the first gray palings of dawn. There was a black, stretched limo with smoked windows waiting. They were thrust in the back and the gorillas got in either side of them. Opposite was Sylvia, sipping a bloody Mary.

  They pulled away and headed through the limpid morning towards Randall’s Island and Manhattan. Maria stared at Sylvia. After a while she said, “I can’t begin to fathom, how you plan to get away with this.” She shook her head, “Your son…” Sylvia laughed but didn’t say anything. Maria went on, “He’s investing in my project! What do you think is going to happen next? What do you think is going to happen when I don’t turn up for work today?”

  Sylvia’s expression had become one of pure delight. She held her glass in her right hand, with her right elbow cupped in her left. She licked her lips and said, “You have absolutely no idea what we are capable of. Mark said he wanted you for his birthday. So Mamma went birthday shopping.”

  They turned into Duke Ellington Circus and then the underground parking garage of the pentagonal Princes Tower. They parked on level ten and Maria and Leah were bundled into a private elevator that took them forty-five stories up to the penthouse. There, they stepped out of the elevator into a vast room. The doors slid closed behind them. The elevator took the gorillas back down to the garage, and Maria and Leah were left alone with Sylvia.

  The room was elaborate and the furnishings eclectic. Marble columns supported a high ceiling. The floors were parquet, with Persian rugs scattered here and there with careful abandon. Over to the right, the entire wall was plate glass, with sweeping views of Central Park. A collection of bookcases and a dresser looked Jacobean, but the sofa was gray suede and was modern in concept.