Winter’s Wolf (25 page)

A voice came from the hall. “He found me and he found the drugs.” Winter walked into the room wearing jeans that were too short for him and an oversized sweatshirt that bagged over his narrow hips. He walked purposefully to the small stack of clothes in the middle of the floor and picked them up. “Sorry. They stripped me earlier, so I had to borrow my wardrobe.”

Caruthers looked astonished. “So you’re the informant they kidnapped?”

“Yes. I told Partridge I could get in to see the higher-ups. This was pretty sudden, so I’m surprised he was able to track me.” He glanced at Matt.

Matt’s head was going to explode. Where had Winter come from? He couldn’t trust his own brain. He shook his head. “When Lulu gave me your message, I guessed they’d taken you to Kubelik and came straight here.”

Winter nodded.

Had he hallucinated the whole thing? Winter had always reminded him of a wolf. He’d dreamed it all. He must have. Dear God, he needed help.

Winter pointed toward the hall. “The processing centers are below ground. I didn’t see them up close, but if we search, I think we can find the entrance.”

Caruthers nodded to the two agents with him. “Take some of the others and search through the halls.”

Winter nodded. “I think there’s an entrance from outside into the processing plant. I’ll be able to find it for you.”

“Oh? How?”

Matt swallowed. “You want us to use the dogs, right, Winter?”

The pale eyes widened. “Yes, right. Give me a dog and I can find the entrance.”

The two agents left, hauling Kubelik. Winter walked toward Matt. Matt stepped back. Winter stopped beside Caruthers. “I don’t think Kubelik is the head of this operation.”

Caruthers frowned. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Call it a hunch. I don’t think he has the chops.”

“All our information points to him.”

“Maybe. At least taking out the processing plant will slow things down.”

“I’ll get you that dog.”

Winter looked up at Matt, eyes shining, then followed Caruthers out the door.

Matt watched Winter’s tall figure leave the room. He clutched his head and fell back against the wall.

W
INTER
TRIED
to keep the damned beagle ahead of him as he walked along the sand near the water. The stupid dog was a waste of his time, but he kept up the charade. Damn, his body hurt and his head screamed like he’d ducked it in acid. He’d never tried to stop a shift before. Lot of good it did him. What now? He’d just violated the cardinal rule—in spades. As things stood, Matt’s life was forfeit if anyone found out. Kubelik would be in touch with lawyers and a lot of other people before they got the bastard locked up for good. He could tell anyone and almost certainly would.
Shit!

But Matt thought he was crazy. He didn’t believe what he’d seen. Powers, that could be good. Maybe Winter could convince the alphas that Matt was no risk. No danger.

He wiped a hand over his burning eyes. Sure, and let the guy go through his life believing he was schizophrenic? Fuck! Why hadn’t he just gone back to Canada?

One thing was certain. No one hurt Matt Partridge while Winter was alive. But how did he stop from hurting Matt himself?

“Has the dog found a scent?” Caruthers asked from a few paces behind Winter.

“What? Oh yeah. Look over there.” He pointed toward an embankment by the water where a drainage pipe came out. That pipe only drained fucking werewolf drug dealers.

Then there was that. What happened when they put these scumbags in jail and the full moon came? Would fur start springing up all over county jail? Shit, he’d violated the cardinal rule more than once. Werewolves took care of werewolf problems, until Winter stepped in to play wolf in the FBI.

The FBI agents swarmed ahead of Winter and opened the drainpipe. They’d travel that pipe straight to the processing center.

Caruthers reached down and scratched the dog behind its ear. “Good boy.”

Yeah, fuck.

He turned around. No sign of Matt Partridge. He looked at Caruthers. “You done with me?”

“No, sorry. Have to take you to the office and get your statement.”

Double fuck.
He followed the agent back toward the vehicles.

Two frustrating, crazy-making, hair-pulling hours later, he finally left the FBI office and started up the SUV one of the agents had retrieved for him from the parking lot where he’d left it. He’d repeated three times every tellable detail of the day—which meant practically everything was left out. Most disturbing—Matt never showed at the office. Winter had finally broken down and asked Caruthers if Partridge would be coming in, and the guy gave a noncommittal shrug, but he smelled worried. That made two of them.
Matt wouldn’t do something crazy. Shit. Just keep saying that.

The lump of the phone in his pocket taunted him. He wanted to call Matt. He needed to call Damon and Lindsey, and the alphas, but knowing that Freedman monitored his calls queered all of it.

He hesitated at the stoplight. Where to first? To Matt’s home, to find Damon, or to Lindsey’s? Every one of them was in fucking danger. Where would the renegade pack members go first? How long would it take the alphas to find out Winter had broken the cardinal rule? Shit, he felt like his head would splat all over the inside of the car.

Like a shock from an electric chair, the phone vibrated in his pocket.

It could be Matt. But not likely.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Winter. I need you to come to the office.” The marshal didn’t bother to put on his hail-fellow voice. He just sounded scary.

“I’m sorry, sir. I have a very important meeting. Can I come tomorrow?” He held his breath.

“You already know the answer to that, don’t you?”

He said nothing.

“You’ve been a very bad wolf today, and to punish you, I’ve taken your FBI friend into custody. If you go anywhere, speak to anyone, vary from your appointed path one inch before arriving here, I’ll kill him. It’s that simple.”

Winter caught his breath. Freedman must have heard it. “Yes. All your suspicions are true. I’ll give you credit. You had me fooled. Or perhaps I’m wrong now. I’m betting you care if I kill Partridge. If I’m incorrect, I’ll be both surprised and delighted, and we can continue to do business.”

“You’re the head of the drug ring.”

“Of course, but what gave me away?”

“Kubelik isn’t smart enough.”

“So true, though he thinks he is, which is delightful.”

“And I smelled you in Kubelik’s office.”

“Oh, Winter, it’s so sad that you’re on the wrong side. You have great talent. But I suppose it would never have worked out with you being a fag and all.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s unlikely Agent Partridge would have taken on a small werewolf army single-handed for a mere informant.”

So true.
Shit, Matt had risked everything for Winter. “Maybe his affection is unrequited.”

“Like I say, don’t show up, I’ll kill him, and all’s forgiven.”

“If I come there, you’ll still kill Matt.” His heart throbbed in his throat.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. But if you don’t come, the result is assured.”

He took a breath and pressed the accelerator. “I’m coming.” With a click, he hung up. If the fucking bastard hurt one cell of Matt’s body, Winter would see he suffered for hours before he killed him—and somehow, he would kill him.

He had to assume that Freedman was watching him, so no stopping and no calling. Once he got there, he’d have to fake his way through and look for a chance to kill the bastard.

He calmed his mind and drove the fifteen minutes to Freedman’s office just fast enough to not attract the police. In town, he slowed and pulled into the side lot he’d used so many times. The place looked deserted. For a second his fists clenched. If Freedman had lured him on a goose chase while he killed Matt, he’d— No. The marshal wanted Winter. He’d wait to be sure Winter took the bait.

He slid out of the old SUV. He’d like to set the fucking thing on fire. Dark windows in the office. A deep breath calmed the pounding in his chest. Freedman would not hurt Matt. Not while Winter was alive. Of course, that detail might be handled soon.

He crossed to the front door and tried the handle. It opened right up. He stepped inside. No light required to see Freedman sitting in an office chair on the other side of the waiting room.

“Hello, Winter.” He stood slowly so the lights from outside glinted off the big-ass gun he had in his hand. “Rest assured, it’s loaded with special wolf-damaging bullets.” He waggled the gun. “Walk into my office, please.”

Winter complied. His eyes worked perfectly in the dim light, but so did Freedman’s. Inside the office, the marshal strode to the far wall, pressed behind one of the books, and the whole row of shelves slid aside. From where he stood, Winter could see steps leading down into blackness.

Another gun waggle. “Go first, please.”

Winter crossed to the staircase and descended step by step. It appeared to be a kind of cellar. Though it was ink dark, his eyesight adjusted and he could see pretty well. His heart leaped. Against the far wall, Matt lay on a cot, handcuffed. Powers, he wanted to run to Matt, but would Freedman shoot them both if he did? He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Such restraint, young man.” He nodded toward the sidewall where a blow-up mattress lay on the floor. “Get over there.”

Winter walked across the floor, staring at Matt. Matt probably couldn’t see him very well. Was he even conscious? He didn’t move. “Is he all right?” He tried to control his voice, but it still rose. “Did you hurt him?”

“Only a little. I prefer to have a lovely explanation for why he died, and you’ll provide that excuse quite nicely. He found you distributing drugs, you shot him, and he killed you. Neat. Winds up the case pretty well. Put your hands behind your back and turn around.” Freedman snapped handcuffs on Winter’s wrists and, before he could even move, draped chains around his neck, which he locked into iron rings on the wall. “I know these won’t hold you, but I’ve made the opening small enough to contain your wolf’s head, should you decide to shift. That should slow you down. There’s no way out of this room except the way you came in. Partridge won’t wake up soon, so even if you can fight your way out, you’ll have to leave him behind. Tomorrow we’ll transport you both to the forest, and I’ll no longer have to worry about either of you knowing too much.”

Winter didn’t bother to reply. Matt was alive and so was he. They had a chance.

Freedman’s heavy steps sounded up the cellar stairs. The door slammed and the darkness took over. Still, he could make out shapes. Though he could barely turn his head, he glanced around, looking for a source of light. Nothing obvious. Freedman might be watching, but there wasn’t enough light for video. Maybe infrared or a peephole. Still, it didn’t seem likely. The room looked like they used it to hold prisoners for a short time. The marshal counted on this room to be impregnable. He probably didn’t go much beyond that.

Matt’s breathing sounded shallow and strained, with a little moan at the end of some of his exhales. Winter leaned forward as far as the chains would let him and stared across the room. They had until morning to escape. That would be a few hours, but at present, his plans were pretty sketchy, so he better get started. Right now the only plan he had was so far out there you couldn’t touch it with the space shuttle.

U
NDERWATER
. D
ROWNING
.
Didn’t mind drowning. Better than going mad. Matt floated in a murky sea of pain.
Isn’t dying supposed to be comfortable? Shit.

“Wake up now, baby. Time to open your eyes.”

No. No waking up. Too complicated.

“Come on, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

Winter. Winter the wolf. No, no wolf. I’m crazy. But he’d make such a great wolf.

“Wake up, Matt. You’re not crazy. Not even a little. Now wake up and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Matt’s eyes popped open.
Wait. Did they open? Just as black as when they were closed.
He closed them again.

“Don’t go back to sleep. We’ve got work to do.”

Open. “What kind of work?”

Winter chuckled, soft and low. “Hi, baby.”

“Where are we?”

“In the basement of the marshal’s office.”

“Why? How did I get here?”

“I don’t know the particulars, but somehow Freedman captured and drugged you. He’s the real head of the drug ring. Remember I said it wasn’t Kubelik?”

“Yeah. I remember a lot of things. That doesn’t make them true.”

“Suspend your disbelief.”

Right. Easy for him to say.
Matt pulled on his hands. “I’m handcuffed.”

“So am I. And chained.”

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.”

“We are, but it’s going to be hard.”

Matt let his head flop back on the soft surface that must have been a daybed or cot. “I guessed that.”