Hard Mated
Page 32
“Mates?” Myka repeated in surprise. “Plural? Shifters can have more than one?”
“Fergus wanted to be an old-fashioned version of a clan leader, who technically is allowed to mate-claim as many females as he wants. He can either hand them out to lesser males of the clan, or keep them for himself. Fergus had two mates. Selfish when there weren’t enough females to go around. He always professed to hate anything human, and then it turns out he had a human girlfriend secreted away, the hypocrite. A woman called Hannah. Anyway, apparently only Nate knew where she lived—Fergus never went anywhere without a bodyguard. Nate let slip about her a couple weeks after Fergus died. I think Nate’s been seeing her himself since then, though he’s never said.”
Myka looked around. “And you think Nate took Jordan to her to hide?”
“It’s worth a shot. Another possibility is a cabin where Fergus and the three trackers used to go to hunt and run. It’s more remote, but I’m betting Gavan will think that’s the first place Spike would think of.”
Liam stopped the truck and killed the engine. Around them pulsed the sounds of the night—crickets, frogs, and the coyotes in the distance. Myka shivered. Coyotes usually didn’t bother people, but they did steal cats and dogs, and a small cub like Jordan might be all the same to them.
A house crouched in the darkness about twenty yards ahead on the other side of a ditch. No lights shone in the windows, and all was silent.
Liam opened the door with the faintest click. “I want you to stay here and keep out of sight.” No more charming Irish brogue, just quiet seriousness. “Nate obviously has a gun. Connor and I can sneak up on him, but he might come out the front.”
Myka nodded her understanding. She slid down on the seat, so she could still see but blend into the darkness.
Liam vanished. Myka tried to keep him in her focus, but he walked away into the night and was gone. The faintest rustle of grass told her he was moving toward the house.
Another rustle sounded, not as subtle. Myka saw the grass stir, caught starlight on a moving patch of fur. Connor, slinking along as a lionlike wildcat.
It was hell to sit there and wait, but Myka knew she’d be foolish to rush up to the door and bang on it, much as she wanted to. If Nate was in there, he’d either answer the door ready to shoot, or have his girlfriend hustle Jordan and Ella out the back, or both.
Myka clenched her hands. She imagined Liam and Connor circling the house, slinking low like lions stalking prey on the veldt. They’d make it to the house . . . and then what?
Would Liam sneak inside, grab Jordan, and run? Maybe have Nate shoot him in the back for his pains? And what if the bullet missed Liam and hit Jordan or Connor?
Myka waited until Liam and Connor had plenty of time to get into position. Then she slid across the bench seat to Liam’s side of the truck and turned the key one click in the ignition.
She drew a long breath, then started pounding on the horn. The truck might be an old model and small, but it was loud. Myka flashed the lights too, pumping the brights, doing her best to make it look like a car alarm had gone off.
The door to the house burst open. No light came on, but the tall form of Nate ran outside. Myka heard the blam of a pistol, a tinkle of glass, and a thump as something hit the seat beside her as she dove for cover.
Another gunshot, and then sprinting footsteps and the truck listing as someone jumped into its bed. “Go!” Connor yelled, his voice muffled. “Go!”
Myka started up the truck, spun it around on the road, then stomped on the accelerator. She drove, skidding, back down the dirt road, pulling up to a stop before she reached the highway. No one was coming, no one chasing them.
When she halted, Connor jumped from the back and, naked, climbed into the cab, holding a wadded-up pair of jeans in one hand and a crying Jordan in the other.
Myka hauled Jordan into her arms and held him close. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. It’s okay.”
“Daddy,” Jordan wailed.
“We’re taking you to him,” Myka said. “He’s waiting for you.”
Connor was jamming on his jeans. “Floor it. We need to get back to Shiftertown.”
Myka peeled Jordan away from her and set him on the seat beside her, locking a seatbelt around him. “What about Liam? And Ella? We can’t leave them.”
“Liam is busy tearing Nate apart. Ella’s there and all right, but Hannah ran off, scared to death. Liam told me to go, and also that he was going to rip you a new one.”
“Diversion,” Myka said. “If Nate’s attention was fixed on the truck, it wouldn’t be on you and Liam.”
“Yeah, but you nearly scared the piss out of me. Never do that again. I’m calling Sean.”
Connor had his cell phone out, and Myka pulled onto the highway. Another car was coming toward her, its headlights on high beam. Myka signaled it to switch off its brights, but the big pickup roared on toward her, not dimming the lights.
“Asshole,” Myka said, squinting against the glare.
The truck neared her, its fog lights on as well, and then it swerved into her lane. Myka yelped and hit the brakes, trying to steer the pickup onto the road’s tiny shoulder.
The pickup’s driver also hit his brakes, and the larger truck skidded sideways right at Myka. Connor ripped the seatbelt from Jordan and hauled himself and Jordan out the door. Myka fought with her seatbelt as the large black truck came right at her.
She dove for the passenger door at the same time the other truck finally halted, inches from the door behind which Myka had been sitting.
Myka crawled out the other side of the truck, her legs watery, her stomach roiling. Connor held onto the squirming Jordan, blending into the darkness on the other side of a ditch.
Before Myka could ask if everyone inside the truck was all right, the door slammed open, and out climbed Gavan himself. He’d brought backup—three Shifters all as big as Nate and Spike, and one had a shotgun.
“You’ll want to stop right there, bitch.”
Great. Here Myka was, standing on the side of the highway, all alone, facing down four towering, hard-bodied, enraged Shifters. Gavan pinned her with his white-hot glare, the other three thugs ready to do violence on his behalf. What had happened to Sean and Glory sitting on him at the fight club?
“I’ve changed my mind,” Gavan said. “Spike’s dead. I thought I could trust him, that we were friends. I guess not.”
“Fergus wanted to be an old-fashioned version of a clan leader, who technically is allowed to mate-claim as many females as he wants. He can either hand them out to lesser males of the clan, or keep them for himself. Fergus had two mates. Selfish when there weren’t enough females to go around. He always professed to hate anything human, and then it turns out he had a human girlfriend secreted away, the hypocrite. A woman called Hannah. Anyway, apparently only Nate knew where she lived—Fergus never went anywhere without a bodyguard. Nate let slip about her a couple weeks after Fergus died. I think Nate’s been seeing her himself since then, though he’s never said.”
Myka looked around. “And you think Nate took Jordan to her to hide?”
“It’s worth a shot. Another possibility is a cabin where Fergus and the three trackers used to go to hunt and run. It’s more remote, but I’m betting Gavan will think that’s the first place Spike would think of.”
Liam stopped the truck and killed the engine. Around them pulsed the sounds of the night—crickets, frogs, and the coyotes in the distance. Myka shivered. Coyotes usually didn’t bother people, but they did steal cats and dogs, and a small cub like Jordan might be all the same to them.
A house crouched in the darkness about twenty yards ahead on the other side of a ditch. No lights shone in the windows, and all was silent.
Liam opened the door with the faintest click. “I want you to stay here and keep out of sight.” No more charming Irish brogue, just quiet seriousness. “Nate obviously has a gun. Connor and I can sneak up on him, but he might come out the front.”
Myka nodded her understanding. She slid down on the seat, so she could still see but blend into the darkness.
Liam vanished. Myka tried to keep him in her focus, but he walked away into the night and was gone. The faintest rustle of grass told her he was moving toward the house.
Another rustle sounded, not as subtle. Myka saw the grass stir, caught starlight on a moving patch of fur. Connor, slinking along as a lionlike wildcat.
It was hell to sit there and wait, but Myka knew she’d be foolish to rush up to the door and bang on it, much as she wanted to. If Nate was in there, he’d either answer the door ready to shoot, or have his girlfriend hustle Jordan and Ella out the back, or both.
Myka clenched her hands. She imagined Liam and Connor circling the house, slinking low like lions stalking prey on the veldt. They’d make it to the house . . . and then what?
Would Liam sneak inside, grab Jordan, and run? Maybe have Nate shoot him in the back for his pains? And what if the bullet missed Liam and hit Jordan or Connor?
Myka waited until Liam and Connor had plenty of time to get into position. Then she slid across the bench seat to Liam’s side of the truck and turned the key one click in the ignition.
She drew a long breath, then started pounding on the horn. The truck might be an old model and small, but it was loud. Myka flashed the lights too, pumping the brights, doing her best to make it look like a car alarm had gone off.
The door to the house burst open. No light came on, but the tall form of Nate ran outside. Myka heard the blam of a pistol, a tinkle of glass, and a thump as something hit the seat beside her as she dove for cover.
Another gunshot, and then sprinting footsteps and the truck listing as someone jumped into its bed. “Go!” Connor yelled, his voice muffled. “Go!”
Myka started up the truck, spun it around on the road, then stomped on the accelerator. She drove, skidding, back down the dirt road, pulling up to a stop before she reached the highway. No one was coming, no one chasing them.
When she halted, Connor jumped from the back and, naked, climbed into the cab, holding a wadded-up pair of jeans in one hand and a crying Jordan in the other.
Myka hauled Jordan into her arms and held him close. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. It’s okay.”
“Daddy,” Jordan wailed.
“We’re taking you to him,” Myka said. “He’s waiting for you.”
Connor was jamming on his jeans. “Floor it. We need to get back to Shiftertown.”
Myka peeled Jordan away from her and set him on the seat beside her, locking a seatbelt around him. “What about Liam? And Ella? We can’t leave them.”
“Liam is busy tearing Nate apart. Ella’s there and all right, but Hannah ran off, scared to death. Liam told me to go, and also that he was going to rip you a new one.”
“Diversion,” Myka said. “If Nate’s attention was fixed on the truck, it wouldn’t be on you and Liam.”
“Yeah, but you nearly scared the piss out of me. Never do that again. I’m calling Sean.”
Connor had his cell phone out, and Myka pulled onto the highway. Another car was coming toward her, its headlights on high beam. Myka signaled it to switch off its brights, but the big pickup roared on toward her, not dimming the lights.
“Asshole,” Myka said, squinting against the glare.
The truck neared her, its fog lights on as well, and then it swerved into her lane. Myka yelped and hit the brakes, trying to steer the pickup onto the road’s tiny shoulder.
The pickup’s driver also hit his brakes, and the larger truck skidded sideways right at Myka. Connor ripped the seatbelt from Jordan and hauled himself and Jordan out the door. Myka fought with her seatbelt as the large black truck came right at her.
She dove for the passenger door at the same time the other truck finally halted, inches from the door behind which Myka had been sitting.
Myka crawled out the other side of the truck, her legs watery, her stomach roiling. Connor held onto the squirming Jordan, blending into the darkness on the other side of a ditch.
Before Myka could ask if everyone inside the truck was all right, the door slammed open, and out climbed Gavan himself. He’d brought backup—three Shifters all as big as Nate and Spike, and one had a shotgun.
“You’ll want to stop right there, bitch.”
Great. Here Myka was, standing on the side of the highway, all alone, facing down four towering, hard-bodied, enraged Shifters. Gavan pinned her with his white-hot glare, the other three thugs ready to do violence on his behalf. What had happened to Sean and Glory sitting on him at the fight club?
“I’ve changed my mind,” Gavan said. “Spike’s dead. I thought I could trust him, that we were friends. I guess not.”
