Hard Mated
Page 33
“You can’t kill anyone,” Myka said, planting her booted feet firmly and lifting her chin. “Humans won’t go for Shifters killing each other, or hurting humans. You know that.”
Sounded great in theory. The human bureaus that dealt with Shifters constantly reassured the public that Shifters were contained, controlled, peaceful beings that wanted nothing more than to live in harmony with the world.
In practice, here was Gavan and his three henchmen in a half-circle around her, filling her with terror. Myka had watched Shifters fight each other, ignoring their sparking Collars or at least not letting the Collars slow them down much. Nate had shot Ronan, who’d be dead if he were human, and now Liam was somewhere teaching Nate a lesson.
At least Connor had run off with Jordan.
Gavan was sniffing the darkness. He nudged the nearest thug and pointed the direction Connor had gone. “Go get them.”
Connor was much younger than these guys, and maybe he could outrun them, or get to Liam in time.
Carrying a four-year-old child through open fields? Myka shivered. Go on, Connor.
“Get in the truck,” Gavan said to Myka.
“Don’t think so,” Myka said.
“Put her in,” Gavan said to his second henchman.
The Shifter came for Myka. She whirled and ran a few steps before the thug grabbed her by the arms, dragging her back to the black pickup. She didn’t go meekly—she kicked, bit, and punched until Gavan grabbed her around the neck.
His Collar sparked, but he didn’t ease the pressure. “You give us trouble, I’ll kill you. You sit still until Spike comes to find you, and I’ll let you go home in one piece. You’re right—I don’t want trouble with humans. But I’ll do what I have to do. Got it?”
“You’re a f**king dickhead.”
“Hey, I’ve been called worse by females who like me, sweetie. Don’t write me off. Now that you’re used to Shifters, you’ll be begging for more.”
Myka kicked him. Pain flashed through Gavan’s eyes followed by rage.
Shit-kickers, indeed. Myka’s boots had caps on the ends to protect her toes from horses who liked to put their feet down on hers.
“You little . . .”
Gavan grabbed her and hauled off her feet so easily it made Myka sick with fear. Humans were right to be afraid of Shifters. They were strong, bred to fight. Shifters who didn’t care, like Gavan, could wreak havoc.
Myka struggled against him, but she knew she’d never win a battle of strength. Her only hope was Liam, and Connor finding him to tell him what had happened.
That hope died when she heard Connor yell, and Jordan cry out. Found. Damn it.
Jordan, in his wildcat form, was snarling and yowling as Gavan’s thug carried him across the ditch to the road.
“Where’s Connor?” Myka cried.
“I put him down,” the Shifter growled.
Fear sliced through her belly. “You killed him?”
“Dunno. Let me break this one’s neck. He’s a little shit.”
“Nope,” Gavan said. “Need him intact.”
Gavan carried Myka to the pickup and threw her into its empty bed. Myka’s breath whooshed out of her as she landed, and before she could scramble up, Gavan had slapped a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. The cuffs had been looped around a metal hook in the bottom of the truck bed, locking Myka in place.
She struggled and swore at him, but she could only hunker there, sore and breathless. Jordan fought his captor like a crazed thing, drawing blood with teeth and claws. Good for him.
“He’s going to shred me!” the thug complained.
Gavan chuckled. “He’s a good little fighter. When I raise him, he’ll be my good little fighter. Hit him with the tranq and let’s go.”
The thug carried Jordan, who sank his teeth hard into the man’s arm, to the pickup. The one who’d caught Myka rifled for something behind the seat. A syringe glittered in the lights from the truck, and the second thug punched the needle into the struggling Jordan.
Jordan stopped snarling and went limp. The four Shifters piled into the truck with Jordan, leaving Myka chained in the back, and started up the highway the way they’d come.
Chapter Sixteen
Three motorcycles hurtled out of the darkness of the highway, heading straight for the truck. Three headlights fixed on it like the eyes of a monster.
Myka, in her half-sitting position, saw them through the truck’s front window, and watched Gavan’s driver tense as they came on.
“Run them down,” Gavan snapped. “What are they going to do?”
The driver stepped on the gas. In an eerie repeat of what had happened with Myka in the smaller pickup, the motorcycle headlights came straight on. The driver hit the accelerator. The motorcycles came faster.
At the last minute, the three bikes split around the truck, and the truck shot past them at high speed. The motorcycles spun around with a squealing of tires and a gunning of engines, and rode hard and fast after the pickup again.
The truck’s back window opened and the barrel of the shotgun came out. Myka hit the bottom of the truck bed, trying to cover her ears as the gun roared.
“Got one!” the shooter announced.
Myka popped up again, craning to see. The bike closest to the back of the truck wobbled around, as though the rider had lost control. The glare of lights showed tatts all over that rider’s bare torso, blood dripping down his chest and arms.
“Spike!” Myka screamed.
Spike shot toward the pickup in a burst of speed, then launched himself from the bike to the back of the truck. His skin changed to the jaguar’s as he made the jump, powerful back legs propelling him. The bike spun out on the road, the other two bikers swerving to miss it.
The gun came out again. Myka rocked onto her back and kicked up with her legs, her feet catching the barrel of the shotgun and knocking it aside.
The shooter didn’t drop the gun, but the waver gave Spike enough time to grab the barrel with his half-shifted hands and haul it out of the pickup’s cab. The shooter came with it, his big body breaking the window.
Spike dragged the Shifter rest of the way out by the neck, his hands right around the man’s Collar. Spike banged the thug’s head hard against the cab then threw him out of the moving truck.
At the same time, Gavan’s driver hit the brakes. Spike dropped to the bed of the truck, landing on Myka, keeping her from being slammed forward as the truck went from ninety to zero in a matter of seconds.
Sounded great in theory. The human bureaus that dealt with Shifters constantly reassured the public that Shifters were contained, controlled, peaceful beings that wanted nothing more than to live in harmony with the world.
In practice, here was Gavan and his three henchmen in a half-circle around her, filling her with terror. Myka had watched Shifters fight each other, ignoring their sparking Collars or at least not letting the Collars slow them down much. Nate had shot Ronan, who’d be dead if he were human, and now Liam was somewhere teaching Nate a lesson.
At least Connor had run off with Jordan.
Gavan was sniffing the darkness. He nudged the nearest thug and pointed the direction Connor had gone. “Go get them.”
Connor was much younger than these guys, and maybe he could outrun them, or get to Liam in time.
Carrying a four-year-old child through open fields? Myka shivered. Go on, Connor.
“Get in the truck,” Gavan said to Myka.
“Don’t think so,” Myka said.
“Put her in,” Gavan said to his second henchman.
The Shifter came for Myka. She whirled and ran a few steps before the thug grabbed her by the arms, dragging her back to the black pickup. She didn’t go meekly—she kicked, bit, and punched until Gavan grabbed her around the neck.
His Collar sparked, but he didn’t ease the pressure. “You give us trouble, I’ll kill you. You sit still until Spike comes to find you, and I’ll let you go home in one piece. You’re right—I don’t want trouble with humans. But I’ll do what I have to do. Got it?”
“You’re a f**king dickhead.”
“Hey, I’ve been called worse by females who like me, sweetie. Don’t write me off. Now that you’re used to Shifters, you’ll be begging for more.”
Myka kicked him. Pain flashed through Gavan’s eyes followed by rage.
Shit-kickers, indeed. Myka’s boots had caps on the ends to protect her toes from horses who liked to put their feet down on hers.
“You little . . .”
Gavan grabbed her and hauled off her feet so easily it made Myka sick with fear. Humans were right to be afraid of Shifters. They were strong, bred to fight. Shifters who didn’t care, like Gavan, could wreak havoc.
Myka struggled against him, but she knew she’d never win a battle of strength. Her only hope was Liam, and Connor finding him to tell him what had happened.
That hope died when she heard Connor yell, and Jordan cry out. Found. Damn it.
Jordan, in his wildcat form, was snarling and yowling as Gavan’s thug carried him across the ditch to the road.
“Where’s Connor?” Myka cried.
“I put him down,” the Shifter growled.
Fear sliced through her belly. “You killed him?”
“Dunno. Let me break this one’s neck. He’s a little shit.”
“Nope,” Gavan said. “Need him intact.”
Gavan carried Myka to the pickup and threw her into its empty bed. Myka’s breath whooshed out of her as she landed, and before she could scramble up, Gavan had slapped a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. The cuffs had been looped around a metal hook in the bottom of the truck bed, locking Myka in place.
She struggled and swore at him, but she could only hunker there, sore and breathless. Jordan fought his captor like a crazed thing, drawing blood with teeth and claws. Good for him.
“He’s going to shred me!” the thug complained.
Gavan chuckled. “He’s a good little fighter. When I raise him, he’ll be my good little fighter. Hit him with the tranq and let’s go.”
The thug carried Jordan, who sank his teeth hard into the man’s arm, to the pickup. The one who’d caught Myka rifled for something behind the seat. A syringe glittered in the lights from the truck, and the second thug punched the needle into the struggling Jordan.
Jordan stopped snarling and went limp. The four Shifters piled into the truck with Jordan, leaving Myka chained in the back, and started up the highway the way they’d come.
Chapter Sixteen
Three motorcycles hurtled out of the darkness of the highway, heading straight for the truck. Three headlights fixed on it like the eyes of a monster.
Myka, in her half-sitting position, saw them through the truck’s front window, and watched Gavan’s driver tense as they came on.
“Run them down,” Gavan snapped. “What are they going to do?”
The driver stepped on the gas. In an eerie repeat of what had happened with Myka in the smaller pickup, the motorcycle headlights came straight on. The driver hit the accelerator. The motorcycles came faster.
At the last minute, the three bikes split around the truck, and the truck shot past them at high speed. The motorcycles spun around with a squealing of tires and a gunning of engines, and rode hard and fast after the pickup again.
The truck’s back window opened and the barrel of the shotgun came out. Myka hit the bottom of the truck bed, trying to cover her ears as the gun roared.
“Got one!” the shooter announced.
Myka popped up again, craning to see. The bike closest to the back of the truck wobbled around, as though the rider had lost control. The glare of lights showed tatts all over that rider’s bare torso, blood dripping down his chest and arms.
“Spike!” Myka screamed.
Spike shot toward the pickup in a burst of speed, then launched himself from the bike to the back of the truck. His skin changed to the jaguar’s as he made the jump, powerful back legs propelling him. The bike spun out on the road, the other two bikers swerving to miss it.
The gun came out again. Myka rocked onto her back and kicked up with her legs, her feet catching the barrel of the shotgun and knocking it aside.
The shooter didn’t drop the gun, but the waver gave Spike enough time to grab the barrel with his half-shifted hands and haul it out of the pickup’s cab. The shooter came with it, his big body breaking the window.
Spike dragged the Shifter rest of the way out by the neck, his hands right around the man’s Collar. Spike banged the thug’s head hard against the cab then threw him out of the moving truck.
At the same time, Gavan’s driver hit the brakes. Spike dropped to the bed of the truck, landing on Myka, keeping her from being slammed forward as the truck went from ninety to zero in a matter of seconds.
