Abbey's Protectors [Beckett's Wolf Pack, Triad Mates 4] (Siren Publishing Menage & More) (51 page)

“There’s been an accident,” Officer Lawrence told him. “A woman named Abigail Tyler was driving a truck registered to you. Another vehicle was driving on the wrong side of the road Ms. Tyler was traveling. She was able to avoid the car but struck a stone wall. Do you know this woman? Did she have your truck with your permission?”

“Yes. Abbey did have my permission,” Hunter told him firmly, swallowing with difficulty as his fear choked him. He couldn’t claim Abbey as their mate without compromising the safety of the pack. “Is she injured?”

“Yes. She’s been transported to Denver Memorial Hospital. I’m sorry, but I don’t have a status on her condition.”

“We’re on our way to the hospital,” Hunter told him, nodding at Clay and seeing the panic in his triad partner’s eyes as he drove his truck toward their injured mate.

“I’m afraid the truck has been totaled,” Officer Lawrence informed him.

“I don’t give a damn about the truck!” Hunter snapped. He took a calming breath, willing his anger to lessen. “I apologize, Officer Lawrence. Thank you for calling.” Hunter spoke as calmly as he could manage.

“You’re welcome, sir. Good luck.”

Hunter disconnected the call and turned to face Clay. “She’s probably unconscious,” he whispered, his heart aching at the thought of their mate alone and in pain.

Clay nodded, unable to speak. With the determination both men were feeling, he kept firm control of his wolf as he drove toward the hospital. Neither man spoke throughout the thirty minute drive, too wrapped up in their fear of losing the woman that they loved.

Arriving at the hospital, a sense of déjà vu swept over them. It wasn’t so long ago that their mate had been admitted here on the day that they had found her. Parking his truck, Clay shut off the engine and pushed open the driver’s side door.

Hunter opened his door and stepped out, slamming it quickly behind him. They ran together to the main entrance and pulled open the side door, foregoing the automatic doors that would take too long to open. Heading toward the front desk, Hunter immediately removed his badge and flashed it at the woman sitting at the counter.

“We need to know the room number of Abigail Tyler,” he told her, his voice commanding.

The young woman looked to her supervisor and waited for her to nod her approval before keying in the name into the computer. She waited while the information was retrieved, reading it quickly.

“I’m sorry, Officer Stewart,” she apologized. “Abigail Tyler has been released.”

“She’s been released?” Hunter questioned her, confused.

How can she be released, Clay? I don’t feel her presence in my mind. Do you?

No. I don’t.

“When was she released?” Clay asked, stepping toward the counter that separated them from the woman who returned her attention to the computer monitor.

“Thirty minutes ago,” the woman answered.

“Do you have an address for her?” Hunter asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give out that information.”

“Did she leave on her own?” Clay asked, growling in frustration at the red tape they were going to have to wade through.

“No, sir,” the woman answered. “She left with her husband.”

Abbey rubbed at her forehead tiredly. The dull ache was persistent. She felt as if there was a constant hum in her mind. It made her ache in a way she didn’t understand. She rubbed at her chest, trying to ease the pain there as well, but it wouldn’t go away. Standing on wobbly legs, she walked from the living room of her home and slowly made her way to the large staircase.

“Where are you going, Abigail?” her husband asked, coming up behind her and taking her in his arms to pull her against his chest and hold her tightly.

Abbey felt a jolt of pain, feeling nauseated by its intensity. She eased out of Peter’s arms as carefully as she could. “I’m going to go and lie down. I don’t feel well.”

“Okay. Go ahead. I’ll be up in a minute,” he told her, releasing his hold on her.

Abbey nodded, turning and walking away, slowly climbing the stairs and heading toward the master bedroom. The pain eased somewhat, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Peter’s scent made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t ever remember having such a reaction before. She attributed it to her pregnancy. That could be the only logical explanation.

She walked over to the bed, toeing off her sneakers, and climbing on top of the brocade coverlet. She grabbed her pillow and placed it carefully against her face as she tried to settle down. The coolness of the pillowcase helped her to feel a little better.

Flashes of memories filled her head. She remembered two distinct scents that made her feel calm. She saw a beautiful waterfall and a garden filled with flowers of every color. She saw two sets of golden eyes smiling at her, and she heard deep masculine voices calling her name.

The doctor said she would have trouble remembering her accident, but she was seriously worried about losing her mind. The voices in her head were getting stronger. Despite her fear, she had to admit that the voices also made her feel calm. She reached out to them.

“Please, stop talking,” she whispered. “I don’t feel well.”

Abbey, sweetheart, can you hear me?

“I hear you, but I shouldn’t be hearing you. I’m going crazy.”

Honey, you’re not going crazy. Are you feeling all right?

“No, I don’t feel all right. My chest aches, I feel sick to my stomach, and I’m hearing voices. I would consider that a triple threat.”

She heard the soft chuckles and smiled. She was seriously worried about herself. The voices in her head were laughing at her and that made her smile.
Geez, I’m in trouble.

Is our baby okay, honey?

Abbey sighed, deciding to go along with her delusion. At least the two men’s voices soothed her, and they were sexy as hell.

“Yes, my baby is fine.”

Touch our baby for us, sweetheart. We miss him.

“Him?”

Our son.

Abbey rested her hands over her belly and closed her eyes. She didn’t feel any movement within her, but she was somehow aware that a precious life was growing inside of her. She didn’t care if she was delusional and was hearing two men’s voices. She liked that they were concerned for her and her baby. It gave her a sense of peace and contentment. Feelings of love and protection surrounded her. They were good feelings.

We’re on our way to you, Mate. Please give us the address to your home.

“Boy, I’m pretty bad at pretending when I have to give my dream men my address,” she muttered.

I like that, honey.

“What?”

That we’re your dream men.

Abbey snorted a very unladylike laugh. “Yeah, you’re my dream men who can’t even find where I live. Typical of my dreams.”

Search the bond to our hearts, sweetheart. Please help us find you.

Abbey closed her eyes and sighed. What would it hurt to give in to the fantasy of being rescued by the men who owned the most incredibly sexy voices she had ever heard?

“Okay, dream men. I live at 226 Single Rock Place. Come and find me.”

Before Abbey could say another word, the bedroom door opened and Peter stepped inside. The sick feeling in her stomach returned. When he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his body around hers to pull her tightly against his chest, her stomach rolled.

“I’m going to be sick,” she muttered, pushing out of his arms and rushing to the bathroom.

She barely made it to the toilet before she was sick to her stomach. Her entire body was shaking, and her head throbbed. The ache in her chest returned and she couldn’t help but cry as the feeling of wrongness filled her.

Waiting until she was able to breathe without gagging, she stood slowly and turned on the cold water in the sink, reaching out to cup the coolness of it in her hand and bring it to her mouth to rinse the foul taste from it. Leaning on her elbows, she looked at herself in the mirror and saw how really horrible she looked.

“If you guys can hear me, I would appreciate a little help here.”

She laughed sadly at herself. How pathetic was she that she was asking the voices in her head to help her? She splashed some of the cool water on her face, hoping it would help.

A wave of warmth washed over her, making her sigh with relief. Whatever her crazy mind was doing, she hoped it continued. It was calming her and reducing the ache in her chest. Even her stomach was settling.

We’re with you, sweetheart,
the first voice called to her.

Try to calm yourself and listen to our voices, honey,
the second voice told her.

“I’m trying,” she whispered. “I don’t feel good.”

We know, baby,
the first voice told her gently.
We’re on our way.

Taking the plush, navy towel from the counter, she wiped at her face. Brushing her teeth quickly, she grabbed a brush from beside the sink and brushed her hair with firm, even strokes. Flushing the toilet, she turned and left the bathroom. Walking over to the bed, she slipped on her sneakers and faced her husband.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” she told him. “I think it will help calm my stomach.”

Peter looked at her with a critical eye. He wasn’t about to upset her. Finding out that she was pregnant had been an amazing thing. Even more astounding was the fact that she remembered nothing of the night she had run away from him. That would make things a lot easier. Now that she was pregnant with his child, he could continue with his plan to obtain control of a good chunk of her money. The fact that she had no recollection of the divorce proceedings was an even bigger boon. A renewal of their vows would fix that. She wouldn’t think anything odd of his request to do that as long as he acted the dutiful, loving husband.

“Don’t go far, Abigail,” he warned her gently. “Remember, you have to stay rested for our baby.”

Abbey nodded, the ache in her chest beginning again. Turning, she reached for her long, black sweater and left the bedroom, not stopping until she walked down the stairs, through the living room and kitchen, and out the back door. She had no idea where she was going, but the feeling of rightness overcame her as she headed across the lush lawn. She didn’t understand the sense of peace that overcame her the more distance she put between herself and her home, but she was grateful for it.

She calmed considerably as she looked off into the distance as she stood at the edge of her property. Sitting down on the grass that was still warm from the summer sun, she ran her fingers through the blades and sighed. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the memories that seemed just beyond her reach. She could remember a cave, and she could remember being afraid as she hid there.

Touching her temple, she ran her finger across the light scar that was there. The distant thought of being injured filled her mind. It had been a bullet wound. She had hidden in the cave. She remembered walking a great distance and being so cold and tired. She remembered warm arms surrounding her and scents soothing her, but as hard as she tried she couldn’t pull the thoughts into focus.

“Okay, voices,” she spoke out loud. “I could use a little inspiration right now.”

Your men are coming to get you, daughter.

Abbey jumped at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Great! Now I’ve got a woman’s voice in my head.”

Do not be afraid, Abbey. Your mates are here. They will come to you in their wolf form. Accept them. Your memories will return. You will know without a doubt that these men are yours, and the child you are carrying belongs to them. They will take you back to the home that you share with them. It is a beautiful home, Abbey, with a garden and a pool that they built just for you. You will fill that home with the children that your love will create.

“Yeah, okay,” Abbey said tiredly, lying back on the grass and closing her eyes as exhaustion swamped her. “I’ll go with that delusion. It’s as good as any I guess.”

* * * *

Hunter knocked on the door of the home that belonged to Abbey. Clay stood beside him, looking fierce and focused. Neither one of them was going to leave without their mate. When no one answered, Hunter knocked again—this time more forcefully.

The door opened and a man just under six feet tall stood before them. He was dressed in jeans and a navy button-down shirt that screamed expensive despite his attempt at a casual appearance. His blond hair was styled smartly and his cool, green eyes stared at them calmly. Hunter hated him immediately.

“Can I help you, officers?” he asked them, his voice polite but arrogant.

“Yes, sir,” Hunter answered calmly despite the way his heart was racing.

I can scent Abbey on this bastard,
he told Clay, growling softly.

I can, too. He better not have hurt her.

“We’re looking for Abbey Tyler,” Clay spoke up. “We were told at Denver Memorial that she was released into your custody.”

“Yes. My wife is upstairs resting,” he answered warily. “What is it you need to speak to her about?”