Wolf's Capture (20 page)

The guards patrolling the edge had left signs of their passage in the form of scent and discarded cigarette butts, but none of them raised an alarm.

Even the dogs were gone from the porch.

Despite the ball of dread in his stomach, Brody changed shapes so he could manipulate the door into the house.

Peeling paper. Stained walls. The ugly living room. The dirty kitchen. All of it looked the same as when he’d left. Including the cage in the basement, the one with the door hanging wide open.

His steps slowed at the sight.

Layla wasn’t here. Not anymore. He could smell her presence, fresh as if she’d just stepped out, but to go where? Where had they all gone?

Perhaps he’d missed a clue.

Brody returned to the main floor to examine it, but it didn’t provide any help.

The upstairs was bare just like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. Layla was gone.

Where has that bastard taken her?

Outside, he hit the garage, only to once again hit a puzzling wall in the form of parked vehicles. If they didn’t drive out of here, then where were they? What did that leave?

He needed to slow down and retrace her steps from the house. Except he didn’t have to go that far.

There outside, intermixed with at least a dozen other smells, Layla, the psychopath’s, all heading in one direction on foot.

Before heading after them, he pulled the phone out of the harness he still wore around his neck. He tapped in a quick message because calling and talking would take too many valuable seconds.

L n L
. Short for approach locked and loaded because the area was a hot zone and it was about to get hotter as he heard Layla scream.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. The big bad wolf is coming, and he’s about to open a can of whoop ass.

Awoo!

The master had completely lost his mind—not that he had much of one to start with.

The delay on the runway caused by an electrical problem—
thank you, local squirrels, for your timely aid and sharp teeth
—bought Layla time. But once master realized her meddling was the reason for their sitting on the makeshift runway, he drugged her, just enough to dull her senses.

Woozy and bound, she sat on the ground as master paced in front of her, an ominous shape in a billowy black robe. To add insult to injury, he couldn’t resist taunting her and confirming her suspicions. “Wait until the wolf realizes you’re gone, and that we have his child.” The robotic giggle sent a chill up Layla’s spine.

“I thought he betrayed me.”

“Not intentionally. I was the one who told my men to let you escape. To give you a false sense of freedom so you would feel at ease enough to thank him for your rescue.”

“That’s sick.”

“I prefer the word brilliant. Just like it was my brilliance that planted a tracker in your wolf, which led us right to you.”

Hot damn. Well, that explained a lot. Still, though, Layla had questions. “I’m surprised we’re leaving so quickly. I mean, all this planning to breed me, what if it failed? I might not be pregnant, in which case all this was a waste.”

“Shifters are virile.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then we’ll try again. Except next time, maybe we’ll rely on science to accomplish the task.”

She couldn’t help a shudder at the ominous sound of that. “Why are you so determined to see me pregnant?”

“Not just pregnant. Pregnant with
his
child. Of all of them, the wolf is the one who should suffer most for what he’s done.”

“You know him?”

“In a sense. But enough questions. You’re stalling us. Why?” Even though a mask covered the master’s features, she could easily imagine a pair of eyes—probably evil red ones like villains sported in paranormal stories—zeroing in on her.

“Maybe I’m just not in the mood to fly.”

“Or you’re waiting for something? Surely you don’t think someone will come to your rescue? The wolf isn’t coming for you.”

“How do I know you’re not lying again?”

“You don’t. But it gives me great pleasure to tell you that I know for a fact your lover isn’t anywhere close. His GPS tracker hasn’t moved from the town we left him in.”

“Left him?” Layla snorted. “Say it like it is. Your men faced a little bit of resistance and bolted like the cowards they are.”

“No more cowardly than your wolf, who didn’t even bother coming after you.”

“That’s what you think.”

Brody’s words carried across the open field, and elation filled her.

He came.

“You can’t be here. My tracking device shows you miles south of us.”

“I fed that little bug to a local rodent.”

“You should have stayed away, wolf.”

Standing tall—and naked—Brody proved a beautiful sight.

“Leave?” Brody laughed, a low chilling sound that was more mocking than mirthful. “Never. You have something I want.”

“You’ll never capture me.”

“Someone’s got a big ego. Who said I was here for you? I’m here for my woman.”

Layla had never heard anything sweeter in her life.

“Good luck getting her.” The master whirled and barked out orders. “Kill him.”

The shifters under the master’s command, already converging since Brody’s appearance, suddenly raised weapons.

Bad odds. But lucky for Brody, they weren’t fast acting.

Within a blink of an eye, Brody had ducked behind an abandoned shipping crate on the edge of the makeshift airfield just in time, as bullets bit the dirt where he’d stood while others pinged into the woods behind him. The thugs continued to fire, their missiles hitting the wooden packing crate, sending splinters flying. Layla could only hope it would provide a thick enough shield to protect Brody.

With the possibility of escape—
here I come number fifty-eight
—Layla tugged at the bonds binding her hands. The drugs in her system hadn’t yet dissipated enough for her to use her powers. A shame because if ever there was a time for her to cause a furry stampede, it was now.

It seemed she wasn’t to be allowed a chance to escape, or even watch the unfolding drama. Master himself grabbed her by the arm, his thin fingers encased in gloves, bruising her with its punishing grip. He yanked her to her feet.

“Move.”

Move toward the plane, which would take her away from Brody?

Not happening.

Layla let her body go limp. The sudden weight broke Master’s hold on her, and she hit the ground with an “Oomph.”

“Get up and move, I said,” barked master, his robotic voice uniform in tenor yet still conveying irritation.

“You’ll have to drag me because I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Giving someone a method to kidnap wasn’t the brightest thing Layla had ever done because master took her literally. Grabbing her by the arm once again, he began to tug her in the direction of the plane, whose engines rumbled to life.

Unable to fight or resist with her bound limbs, Layla could only watch, and curse, as she saw her chance for escape receding.

Poor Brody was pinned in place by the firepower of master’s minions. Everything seemed hopeless. Until the first thug fell with a strangled cry. Then another yelled as a red stain blossomed across his chest.

Reinforcements? Could she be so lucky?

As the gunfire stuttered and then resumed, but firing wildly in numerous directions, Layla realized Brody hadn’t come alone.

The odds began to shift.

With a snarl, Brody jumped out from behind his sheltering crate.

Master’s minions, though, weren’t about to declare defeat. With the advent of reinforcements, they took cover themselves and continued to fire at Brody and the woods, where someone with decent aim kept causing damage.

Master redoubled his efforts to move Layla and got her to the steps going up to the plane. She did her best to wiggle and struggle. Master still tugged her up the hard stairs, and then she was lifted as more hands from inside the vehicle grasped her. The pilot and his second hauled her within the cargo plane.

“Go!” yelled master. “Get us out of here.”

“What of the others?” asked the pilot.

“Leave them. They are not important.”

Master never did give much care to those under him.

“We have to shut the door,” the pilot argued.

“I’ve got the bloody door. Get your ass to the cockpit and move this fucking plane.”

The crew did as ordered, and the whine of the engines revved to a higher pitch. It seemed hopeless, but so long as they hadn’t left the ground, Layla wasn’t giving up the fight.

When the master moved to shut the door, ankles bound by tape or not, Layla swung her legs and tripped him. He hit the floor hard.

“Why, you bitch,” he muttered as he rose to his feet. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Then I might as well do this,” she sassed as he loomed over her.

She fired her legs out again, this time connecting with a kneecap, which caused master to not only stumble back but scream in pain.

With his attention off her for a second, Layla did her best worm wiggle to the still-open door, only to be brought up short by a fist in her hair. The harsh tug brought tears to her eyes and a gasp to her lips.

“Not so fast, pet.”

She cried out again as the plane suddenly lurched into motion, sending master reeling to the side, her along with him, the strands of her hair caught in his fist pulling and, judging by the painful pings, ripping from the roots.

A howl managed to make itself heard over the rumble of the engines. Brody had noticed their imminent departure.

Rapping her chin off the floor, master let go of Layla and made his way to the open door streaming air. As he hauled on the portal to slide it in place and seal the plane, she couldn’t help but pray for the first time in years, a whisper, one word, one plea. “Brody.”

Unlike those who’d let her down in the past, he heard her and came for her.

When Brody hit the airfield, even he had to admit his chances of success seemed bleak. As if he’d let bad odds stop him.

Layla was out there. Bound, frightened, and yet, he saw the spark of hope in her eyes when she saw him.

He wasn’t about to let that spark die.

Of course, the hooded asshole and his army couldn’t do the smart thing and just hand her over. Nope. They wanted a fight. Which he could handle. Problem was they had weapons.

How unsporting bringing guns to a shifter fight.

If those standing against them would have morphed into their animal shapes, he would have totally charged them. Barking seals and even the tusked walrus and nasty looking bison didn’t stand much of a chance against a mighty timber wolf.

But no. These guys cheated and brought out the guns, which meant Brody could either die needlessly, a pincushion for bullets, or take cover and hope they either A) ran out of ammo, or B) a fucking miracle occurred, say like he became suddenly bulletproof or the master dude had a change of heart and hopped on his plane minus Layla.

Or there was option C) which was reinforcements arriving in the nick of time with guns of their own. And not just guns, Boris wielding a gun.

Even better, Boris had the idiot with him. Travis wasn’t a good shot, but given he fired from the opposite side of the airfield, it meant those opposing Brody now had to split their attention.

Time to go furry and tear some assholes into pieces.

Changing shapes took only seconds, jumping out with a mighty snarl, a moment more. But in that time the hooded one had managed to yank Layla onboard the plane.

No. No. No.

Brody couldn’t let that plane take off. He might never find Layla again if he did.

He spent too much time internally grumbling, and a bullet whizzed by his flank, digging a furrow, which didn’t make him yelp, but totally pissed him off.

Watch the fucking fur.

With a howl meant to make the enemy piss themselves, Brody charged. Lucky him, the one thug staring right at him had his gun jam. Ah, the sweet smell of panic and fear, which went well with that of blood when he ripped into the asshole who dared to stand in his way.

Only by chance did another bullet narrowly avoid him, probably because Travis had joined the fray, his massive grizzly shape roaring as he swung his paws, tipped with deadly claws, at anything that moved.

Not exactly a show of finesse, but Travis’ enthusiastic swipes did cause damage.

From the sidelines, firing calm as could be, Boris shouted instructions to the cub. “Don’t waste your time playing with them. Take the prick out and move on to the next.”

The big bear gave a nod then in a much-too-human maneuver punched the man in front of him, which while not exactly in the grizzly bear handbook of fighting technique, did the job.

More important things than analyzing Travis’ technique mattered at the moment. Brody had a plane to catch, one that was moving away from him.

Oh, no you don’t.

He bolted after it, a cry of pain from Layla spurring him to match the speed of the bouncing plane. As he paralleled it, he leaped into the open portal and his fingers scrabbled to hold onto the edge.

Not exactly a stable spot, but he didn’t care, because there was his enemy.

The hooded bastard who’d thought to take him prisoner.

The asshole who’d tortured Layla for so long.

You and I have a score to settle, jerk-off.

Without thought, but lots of pent-up anger, Brody pounced and hit the robed figure, taking him to the floor of the plane.

The figure was slighter than expected, but that didn’t stem Brody’s rage. Brody snarled and snapped at the covered face, his deadly attack held back by gloved hands.

However he was stronger, and his teeth grew near and nearer…

The plane hit a bump, and he was thrown sideways.

The hooded one took the opening and slithered in the opposite direction. “You should have stayed away,” spat the hooded one, the tinny voice crackling, the speaker he used having suffered damage during their scuffle.

Brody shifted so he could reply. “And miss all the fun?” He didn’t have time to play games. He needed to end this quickly before the plane left the ground and made things more precarious. He dove for the gun on the floor, only to have a scaled tail whip it away.