Quinn's Quest: Legacy, Book 4 (2 page)

Doctor Morton moaned and rolled onto his side.

“Run, Beth.” Chrissten tried to push her away, but she wasn’t having any of it. Bethany pried the gun from the doctor’s hand and checked it. Empty. Two vials was its capacity. She tossed it aside.

Bethany rolled the doctor all the way into the cell, ignoring the blood on the side of his face and his pitiful moans. She felt not an ounce of remorse as she slammed the door shut. She didn’t have the keys to lock the deadbolts and didn’t have time to search for them. She had no idea how long the tranquilizer would keep Brian knocked out. She feared it wouldn’t be long enough.

Bethany yanked the single iron bar down until it fell firmly into place, securing the door. Hopefully that would hold their captors long enough to allow them to escape.

“Help me,” she ordered. Bethany half-carried, half-dragged Chrissten down a long corridor. Like the room they’d been kept in, it was pitted, rough concrete painted a depressing gray. Perfect for a movie set about a mad scientist and werewolves. She would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if she weren’t scared out of her mind.

Bethany had no idea where they were or if there was anyone else in the building with them. In the weeks she’d been held captive she’d only seen Brian and the doctor. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have other people helping them. On several occasions, even if she’d never seen them, she’d sensed another presence.

They stumbled through several doorways and Bethany knew they’d both have bruises from their mad dash. Not that she cared and knew Chrissten wouldn’t either. Whatever it took to escape here was worth it.

Bethany found a set of stairs and started upward. It had to eventually lead to a door to the outside. Bethany refused to believe otherwise. Chrissten’s breath was labored and she became heavier with each step as she started to lose consciousness.

A pounding sound reverberated up the stairwell. Someone was beating on the cell door. Metal screeched as it was being ripped apart.
Oh, God
. Only those big lethal claws she’d glimpsed and brute strength could tear apart a steel door. Sweat rolled down her temples and her heart raced like a runaway freight train. Her legs were trembling and her strength was rapidly failing.

Brian was at full strength, but they weren’t. Bethany knew they wouldn’t make it.

Damned if they wouldn’t. They still had time.

Bethany tightened her hold on Chrissten and started dragging her up the stairs. Chrissten was practically limp in her arms, unable to help much at all. They fell once and pain shot up Bethany’s shoulder. She smelled blood too but ignored it, stood and kept going. Plenty of time to worry about their injuries when they were free.

“Run! Contact my brother.” Chrissten had spent hours telling Bethany about her twin brother, making her memorize his name and cell phone number. Assuring her that he could protect them.

Bethany wasn’t sure about that, but he was the only hope she had. No one she knew could help. And she didn’t think the police would believe her story. No, if she told them the truth she’d wind up in a mental institution sedated with copious amount of drugs. Something inside her knew she’d die if she were locked up again. She needed to be free.

“Find him,” Chrissten whispered. “Send help.” The adrenaline that had helped her friend push back the effect of the tranquilizer was fading. Chrissten’s legs buckled.

Beth dug her fingers into Chrissten’s arm and kept hauling her up the narrow, wooden staircase. “I’m not leaving you.” There was no way in hell she’d abandon Chrissten here to suffer any longer. Bethany didn’t know exactly what Chrissten was, but that was no longer of any importance. Chrissten was a woman in danger and she’d become a friend.

Plus, if Chrissten was right about what she was, then she might be able to give Bethany the answers she’d always sought.

“Why didn’t you show me sooner?” If her friend had broken out the claws and fangs when she’d first arrived, Bethany might have been more inclined to believe her stories.

“Didn’t want to frighten you any more than you already were.”

Sweat rolled down her Bethany’s back, making her thin cotton top stick to her body as she continued to haul her friend up the steep stairwell. They had to be getting close to the landing.

“And you thought finding out like this wouldn’t freak me out of my ever-loving mind?” Bethany knew her voice was getting louder, but she couldn’t help it. The adrenaline coursing through her body was making her sweat. Her heart was racing. Her blood pumping.

Another thought occurred to her. “How come you can change and I can’t?”

Chrissten’s laugh was bitter. “Because you need a male werewolf for that.”

Bethany frowned. “I don’t understand.”

A loud roar sounded in the distance, ending all talk. Terror spurred Bethany on and she pulled harder. Brian was coming.

“You have to leave me.” Chrissten dug in her heels, bringing them both to a halt. “If you don’t, we’re both dead.”

Bethany feared her friend was right. The footsteps were getting closer. There was no way she could get both of them out in time to evade whoever was coming for them. They had no weapons. Chrissten was too weak to do her wolf thing and, even if she could, Brian could do it too.

Bethany was no match for either him or the doctor’s tranquilizer gun. Her stomach dropped but she knew what she had to do. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” She eased Chrissten gently down onto the hard stairs.

She paused one final time to look back. Chrissten lay crumpled and unmoving. Bethany vowed she wouldn’t rest until her friend was free. Drawing on reserves she didn’t know she had, she surged up the stairs to the top of the landing and came to a door. She prayed it wasn’t locked and pushed at the bar. It opened and she stumbled out into a foyer of sorts.

It was deserted.

The building felt empty. Abandoned.

Dust and garbage, years of decay and neglect, lined the floor. The stench assaulted her nostrils and she tried not to breathe too deeply as she raced for the front door. It was boarded up but she yanked at the nailed pieces of wood, splinters gouging her skin and drawing blood.

She took a quick peek over her shoulder, her breathing coming faster and harder. Brian couldn’t be far behind her. Frustration and anger welled up inside her and she gave one final pull. The wood gave under the pressure and snapped.

Bethany dragged herself through the small hole and began to run. Cold wind whipped at her thin clothing and tugged at her hair. Her footsteps sounded like thunder in her ears as her feet hit the pavement in an uneven rhythm. She ran until her lungs ached and her legs would no longer hold her.

With her lungs burning and unable to catch a breath, she stumbled into an empty doorway and leaned against the wall for support. Her muscles trembled and she slid to the ground, dropping her head against her knees. She sucked air into her starving lungs, desperately trying not to black out.

She had no idea how long she sat there. Eventually her breathing calmed and her heart no longer felt as though it was in danger of bursting through her chest. The black spots in her vision cleared.

Now that her heartbeat was no longer pounding in her ears other sounds began to seep in.

Her head jerked up. Traffic. That was the beautiful sound of cars and buses. That meant people. Help. She pushed herself up and her legs wobbled. She steadied herself against the side of the building until she was sure she wasn’t in danger of collapsing.

For the first time, she studied her surroundings. Her flight had been quick and she’d paid no heed to where she’d come from. Most of the buildings around her appeared derelict. She could smell the water above the stench of garbage and exhaust fumes. Obviously, she was in an abandoned area of some warehouse district in a major city.

She didn’t even know what city she was in.

“Damn.” She shook her head to clear it and forced herself to pay attention. Her lungs hurt, her legs felt like jelly and her hands were bruised and scraped. Thankfully, they’d stopped bleeding.

“Find something familiar. Some landmark. You can do this.” The pep talk helped some.

Bethany left the dubious safety of the doorway. She had no way of knowing if there was already someone searching for her. She couldn’t let them take her. Chrissten had given her this chance at freedom and she wasn’t about to waste it.

“Hang on, Chrissten,” she whispered under her breath. “I’m coming back for you.”

Chapter One

Keeping beat with the music, Quinn Lawton drummed his fingers on the dark oak bar. A beer sat in front of him, the bottle damp with condensation. It was still almost full. He stared at the dark stain widening around the base of the bottle. He wasn’t in the mood to drink, but he had to do something to pass the time as he waited for tonight’s meeting.

He peered around the bar. Haven was hopping tonight. A jazz quartet played on the tiny stage in the far corner. Some couples danced, but most sat around small circular tables or at the bar, talking and laughing with friends.

What would it be like to have a normal life? Did they have any idea how lucky they were? His life had been fucked up for so long he wasn’t sure he knew what normal was anymore. Not that it ever could be, considering his mother had been human and his father was a pureblooded werewolf.

“It won’t be long now.” Meredith Striker, the owner of Haven and the female alpha of the pack that lived here, slipped onto the bar stool beside him. She usually wore long, slinky dresses and high-heeled shoes when she worked. Tonight she was wearing black slacks and a silk blouse, but still managed to look classy and stylish. Her black hair fell over her back like a curtain. She was a pureblooded werewolf, but she’d adopted four half-breeds, whom she treated the same way she did her two sons. She’d also opened her home to him and his brother.

“I know.”

“We’ll find her.”

Meredith’s words did nothing to buoy his confidence. He’d been making that same promise to himself over and over again this past year and a half. He didn’t know if he believed it any more. It had been too long without a word or a trace of his sister.

Hell, he’d infiltrated and worked with fucking paranormal bounty hunters for a year in the hopes of finding out some small scrap of information about who might have taken Chrissten. But he’d lost his last link to the hunters when he’d been forced to kill one of them to protect another werewolf. Still, his actions had garnered him the unexpected support from two packs of werewolves. Not to mention he’d found his birth father.

He shoved that thought aside. He didn’t want to think about Donovan Brody, the werewolf who’d had a short-lived relationship with his mother before abandoning her. The guy seemed okay, but Quinn didn’t feel any real connection with him and had no time to care.

All his thoughts were of his missing sister.

He was sorely afraid Chris was dead. The only thing that gave him any hope at all was the close bond they shared as twins. In his heart, he didn’t feel as though she was dead.

He rubbed his chest, feeling the ache growing there with each passing moment his beloved sister was missing.

The hair on the back of his neck stirred. Quinn didn’t need to turn around to know who was there. Isaiah Striker, Meredith’s husband and the alpha of this small pack. Quinn was here only because Isaiah had agreed to help him.

“I heard from Damek. He’ll be here after closing.”

Quinn closed his eyes and said a brief prayer of thanks. Until Isaiah confirmed it, he hadn’t believed the meeting would truly happen. He didn’t know who this Damek guy was or why they all thought he might be able to help, but at this point, Quinn would try anything. Isaiah and the rest of the pack had been strangely silent about Damek, telling Quinn next to nothing about him.

He shrugged. It didn’t matter who he was. Not if he could help.

Quinn continued to sit at the bar nursing his beer while Meredith and Isaiah went off to do whatever it was that needed doing. He’d been working at Haven himself for about a week as payment for his room and board. Nothing he could do would ever repay them if they actually helped him find his sister.

“You doing okay?”

Quinn shook his head. “I don’t know.” His brother took the seat Meredith had vacated and leaned his elbows on the bar. Craig was his brother, but he was totally human, the product of a yearlong affair his mother had with a dockworker. His mother had never been good at picking men and Craig’s father had disappeared as soon as he’d known Craig was on the way. Hell, Quinn’s father had left before he’d even known Quinn’s mom was pregnant with him and his sister.

Never in a million years had Quinn dreamed he and Craig would be temporarily living with a werewolf pack, half of which were half-breeds.

He could sense his brother’s excitement. Smell his fear. Craig was only twenty, but he was hell on wheels with a computer. His unassuming, kind face and wire-rimmed glasses hid a deep well of determination. Not that he was weak. Far from it. But he was human and wouldn’t be able to physically defeat a werewolf, not in hand-to-hand combat. His intellect was his greatest weapon and he’d used it these long months to aid Quinn in his search.

“You think this guy Damek can help?”

That was the million-dollar question. He turned to his brother and shrugged. “I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face as weariness settled over him. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that time was running out. “I hope so.”

“If not, we’ll find another way.”

That was Craig. He’d never lost hope, his mind always searching for new ways to work on the problem. “I’m glad you’re here.” And he was. The three of them had been close growing up, but even more so since their mother’s death. He and Chris had practically raised Craig. They were a family. Or they had been before disaster had struck.

“Me too.” Craig snagged a bowl of mixed nuts from a few feet down the bar and began munching. “You were away too long.”

He’d missed his younger brother during the unending months he’d been undercover with the paranormal bounty hunters. His occasional phone call with Craig had been his only connection to his past life, his only link to sanity. He’d missed a year and a half of his brother’s life. Craig was different now—harder, independent and more cynical. He’d matured, losing some of that indomitable spark he’d always had. But there was still a touch of it there, for which Quinn was profoundly thankful.