Betraying the Pack (3 page)

“Change of plans. I need you to
meet me at . . .” He read the address off of Bailey’s ID card.

“What’s up, boss?”

“There’s been another rogue
abduction. Check out the outside while Wyatt and I do a search of her
apartment.”

Hanging up, Gavin drummed his
fingers on the armrest. Anger that he’d left her fueled his ire. If only he’d stayed,
listened to his inner desire to get to know her better, he might have prevented
her abduction.

“It’s not your fault,” Wyatt
said softly.

“If I’d just stuck around a
little longer, I would have caught them before they took her.”

“Or scared them off to snatch
someone else.”

Gavin’s lips drew tight before
he blurted the words that came to mind:
But
I don’t give a damn about someone else.
It galled him that he’d come so
close to finally spotting the rogues. It galled him even more that he hadn’t
given in to temptation and stayed with Bailey, his shy temptress, a little
longer. And it killed him to know they’d taken her, were probably hurting her
at this very moment, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Yet.

Arriving at her place, a high-rise
building made of gray cement and festooned with brown rusted balconies, they
parked around the corner before hiking back. They vetoed the front entrance,
which was well lighted and locked. As they slid around to the back, the scent
of wolf hit them. With his jaw tight, Gavin followed the smell right up to a
service door and yanked on the handle. It gave easily, the reason being someone
had taped the latch so it wouldn’t trip.

Gavin followed the trail of the
rogues, two by his count, and not the ones from the bar, up the stairs,
stopping at the seventh floor, where the scent led out into the hall.
Castigating himself even further for having left Bailey, a woman they’d
obviously hunted beforehand, he ghosted through the silent corridor, wondering
if the perpetrators remained inside.

The door to her apartment
opened at his touch, already unlocked. Shutting the door behind Wyatt, Gavin
blew out a breath.

“They’re not here.”

Not in person at any rate, but
they’d left the signs of their visit behind. The place had been tossed and
destroyed. Cushions with the stuffing ripped out littered the floor. Detritus,
from glass, to paper, to what looked like food, decorated the place, as if the
rogues had gone on a destructive spree.

How come the cops weren’t called?

He knew, though. Humans no
longer protected their own. They didn’t want to get involved in the problems of
others.

Wading through the mess, Gavin
fought an urge to punch something, to cause some destruction of his own.

“They were looking for
something,” Wyatt said from behind him.

“How can you tell from this
mess?” Gavin snorted, gesturing with an outward flung hand.

“Because, they only dumped the
two drawers of her desk and left the rest intact. See?”

Gavin peered over and saw what
Wyatt meant. He strode over and knelt to sift through the two piles on the
floor.

“Insurance papers, medical
receipts, income tax papers, bills.” He noted a pair of death certificates for
Mary Jean and Joseph Donovan, dated only a year ago. A twinge in Gavin’s heart
made him recognize sorrow for the woman he still barely knew, one who’d lost
both her parents in one fell swoop.

“See a pattern yet?” Wyatt
asked.

“It’s all her personal shit. So
what? Maybe they got interrupted, or whoever nabbed her called them to tell
them to ditch the place.”

“Stop looking at the simple and
obvious. Use your brain for something other than filler for your skull. What’s
missing?”

A growl almost left his mouth
at his beta’s goading. But Wyatt wouldn’t provoke him without reason. Gavin’s
brows drew together as he looked at all the papers. He riffled through them
some more and located Bailey’s father’s birth certificate and his driver’s
license, lots of things for Joseph, but other than the death certificate,
nothing identifying for Mary Jean. “The mother’s stuff is missing.”

“Yes, as is Bailey’s birth
certificate, I’ll bet,” Wyatt added.

“So you don’t think she was a
random choice? They chose her because of her mother?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Why would murderous, raping
bastards care?” Gavin almost yelled as he stood, his impotence fueling his
anger.

Wyatt shrugged. “I guess it’s
something we’ll have to find out.”

“Let’s get out of here. We’re
not going to find her trail sifting through this.”

Exiting as surreptitiously as
they had arrived, they met up with Jaxon and Parker at the truck.

“Find anything?” Gavin asked
without greeting.

Jaxon took a step back and held
up his hands. “Whoa, what’s got your boxers in a bunch? Jeez, you’d think they
stole your mother the way you’re frowning.”

“He met the girl at the bar who
was taken. Took quite a shine to her too.”

“I wasn’t the only one who
noticed she was something special,” Gavin growled.

“Damn, boss. That sucks. Wish
we had better news then. Whoever it was cased the joint. One hung out in the
alleyway bordering the place and the parking lot behind it. Another fellow was
watching across the street. Unfortunately, they had wheels, so once they
hightailed it, I lost their trail.”

“Great, another dead end.”
Gavin raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a tired sigh.

“We need to get back to the
cabin and get some sleep.”

“I can’t. She’s out there
somewhere with those animals.”

“And you’re not going to do her
any good if you’re exhausted and not thinking straight. We’ll hit this again
with a fresh outlook tomorrow night.”

It galled Gavin that Wyatt
spoke the truth. Fatigue did pull at him, but so did fear that every moment he
wasn’t searching, they were hurting Bailey, the lady with the shy smile and
warm eyes.

However, getting himself murdered
or making stupid mistakes would hurt her even more, so even though it just
about killed him to call off the hunt for the night, he did.

Back at the cabin, sleep eluded
him, abetted by his restless wolf, who paced in his mind as if demanding why
they weren’t out in the woods hunting the rogues down, tracking the woman who
intrigued them. He would, as soon he knew where to start to looking.

Hold on, Bailey. I will find you.

Waking up with a pounding head
didn’t bode well, but regaining consciousness to realize she hung, naked and
manacled, spread-eagle, totally beat any hangover. And scared the bejesus out
of Bailey.

Everything in her body hurt. Pinpointing
the origin of her pain proved elusive, though. Even her teeth and hair ached.
It made her scared to open her eyes.

Was I involved in an accident?

She didn’t even own a car, let
alone recall getting into one. The last thing she did remember was the bar, and
that handsome cowboy who’d left her sipping on her drink as she wandered
around, getting in the mood to dance, then . . . nothing.

A dark figure with glowing eyes . . .

The feeble image slipped away. A
hazy fog clouded her memories, and fear joined the agony of her body.
Someone slipped me a Mickey.
All the
warnings she’d heard over the years, mostly paranoid speeches from her mum, ran
through her mind. And yet, she’d guarded her drink, or so she thought,
receiving it directly from the bartender and not leaving it unattended.

Except when I turned to watch Gavin leave.

She recalled the leering fellow
who’d taken Gavin’s place at the bar. In that moment of inattention, had he
drugged her? Not that the who mattered. Regardless of who’d taken her, she
still found herself strung up in an untenable situation.

A catalog of her body didn’t point
to any one injury, more like an all-over pain that made her throb. Even her jaw
ached, as if she’d clenched her teeth all night.
Or screamed like a madwoman . . .
Her mind veered away from that
train of thought to something less likely to give her hysterics, if that was
even possible in this situation.

How long have I been here?

Without a window, or anything
else to provide a time frame, she could have hung there minutes, or days.

The dark one returned, his cackling laughter joining my screams as I .
. .

Again, the weak memory slipped
from her grasp. Yet, how could such a thing be real? As quickly as her mind
phrased the question, it forgot.

Attempting to focus on
something concrete, she strained to hear something, anything. Hope, in the form
of police sirens, would have been nice.

The faint sound of moans,
scattered with nonsensical gibbering, floated through the bars on the door of
her prison. Bailey chewed her lip, wondering what kind of torture could reduce
someone to that kind of dejection and fear. What did it take to strip someone’s
humanity?

A scraping at the door brought
her head up, and she stared intently as it swung open. At the first glimpse of
red eyes, her memories came rushing back in a roar, and even before he touched
her, she began to scream, then thrash, as he did things to her, horrible things
that filled her with pain. His torture tore wails of terror from her, shrill
screams that went on and on until she grew hoarse, an ongoing nightmare that
made her lose track of time. Not that she remembered the moments of agony, for
each time he left, he took the memories of his time with her away, leaving her
to agonize afresh each time she woke, slowly losing her humanity—and her mind.

Wyatt watched as Gavin punched
yet another tree in frustration. For days now, they’d searched for signs of the
rogues, but since the abduction of the girl, they’d disappeared. This lack of
clue, or even faint trail to them, was driving Gavin slowly insane.

And over a human chit.
Admittedly,
Bailey appeared cute with her rounded frame and shy smile. However, Wyatt
didn’t obsess over the fact she’d gotten taken. Okay, not true, it bugged the
hell out of him, but he hadn’t taken it as personally as Gavin.

“Where the hell did they take
her?” Gavin growled for the umpteenth time.

“The rogues ain’t around here,
if you ask me,” Jaxon said. “We’d have caught a trace of them by now.”

“I think it’s time we widened
our search circle,” Parker interjected in his deep rumble.

“Easier said than done,” Wyatt
replied. “Which direction do you think we should choose? They could be
anywhere. All the abductions occurred in this area and were all recovered here
as well.”

“Exactly.” Gavin sat up
straight, his eyes lighting up even with the fatigue clouding them. “Parker has
a point. These rogues are wily. Does it seem likely they’d hunt and dump on
their home turf?”

“You’re probably right, but
again, where do we take our search next?”

“Food.”

“How many times a day do you
have to be fed, Jaxon? Christ, we ate like an hour ago,” Gavin grumbled as the
youngest of their group threw their discussion off course.

“No, I mean, even rogues need
food. So why the heck are we wasting our time searching every goddamned bar,
woods, motel, hotel, you name it in this stupid town when we could just be
hitting grocery stores? They have to eat, don’t they?”

The logic of it, so simple and
neat, made Wyatt want to smack himself in the head. He smacked Jaxon instead,
and at his friend’s disgruntled look, a chuckle erupted from Wyatt’s lips. “I
don’t believe it, but I do believe our little puppy here has a point. How many
grocery stores can there be?”

“What if they’re shopping at a
7-Eleven?” Parker asked.

“If you’re feeding a group of
wolves, you’re going to need lots of red meat. Only a market will carry that,”
Wyatt explained.

“Good thinking, Jaxon. Wyatt!”
Gavin barked. “Pull up the directions to all the grocery stores in a two-hour
radius from here. It’s time to go shopping.”

It took them fourteen stores
and a day and a half, but they finally caught a scent. After that, given the
small size of the town, it became only a matter of hours before they narrowed
the possible rogue hideout to a dozen or so places.

Noses to the ground, quite
literally, they proceeded to winnow that number down.

A day later, they hit the
jackpot.

Blinking her eyes at the white
ceiling, Bailey took a moment to enjoy the fact her body no longer hurt. The
screaming pain, the throbbing of her joints, the ache of her muscles all
appeared gone.

I’ve died.

On the heels of that thought,
she frowned. What on earth made her think any of those things? Not recalling
any injury done to her person, it seemed foolish to wake up feeling relief she
no longer hurt.
Did I have a bad dream?

It seemed the only likely
explanation. However . . . that didn’t explain the unfamiliar expanse over her
head.

How had she arrived here? Where
was here?

Bailey closed her eyes as she
cast her recollection backward. A shiver of unease shook her body as, for a
moment, in her mind’s eye, she glimpsed glowing eyes, a fanciful imagery
probably left over from whatever dream she’d experienced that left her thinking
she’d gotten injured.

A murky haze seemed to hover
over her recollections, the sense of time passed, and yet, the last thing she
recalled, she hung out in a Western bar, surrounded by noise and people.
And now I’m in a strange bed? Good God, did
I get drunk and screw some stranger?

Hopefully, if she had
completely thrown caution to the wind, she’d done so with the handsome cowboy.
But as the fuzzy cloud of sleep left her mind, more memories crowded in. She
recalled becoming dizzy, then falling, only to have someone catch her, someone
who leered and smelled awful. Her memories after that became fractured with
scattered recollections of being carried—
pain,
white-hot agony joined by gravelly laughter, as she hung suspended, trapped—
and
dumped on this bed, her kidnappers arguing about whether to use restraints or
not.

Panic made her move. Thrashing
her arms and legs, she discovered nothing fettered her, although she noticed as
she sat up for a better look at her surroundings that she didn’t wear any
clothes. Dread made her heart stutter as immediately thoughts of rape raced
through her mind, and she ran her hands over her body, looking for signs of
abuse. Nothing came to light, but still her tension remained taut, the sense of
injury done to her person strong. Yet, her thighs appeared dry and clean, her
body whole and unblemished. Perhaps she’d woken before her abductors achieved
their objective? She couldn’t help shuddering as she remembered the news on the
girl who’d disappeared.
Have I just
become the next victim?
Not if she could help it.

I need to get out of here.
But exactly where was here? A clue of any kind seemed in order, and she
peered about.

Despite the white ceiling, the
rest of the room appeared shabby and unkempt. The wallpaper, patterned in flowers,
peeled in places. On a second glance, she noted spiderwebs on the ceiling and
the hairline cracks running through it. Getting up from the bed, a raunchy
mattress covered in rust-colored stains—that her mind preferred not to dwell on—her
feet touched a bare wooden floor, the varnish lost amidst the scratches of age.

All in all, things didn’t look
good.
Actually, it’s pretty bloody scary.
A scream wound its way up her chest, caught in her constricted throat. She
held on to that outward expression of fear, because it seemed unlikely, given
her surroundings, that someone would come to her rescue if she screamed. More
than likely any kind of sound would instead bring . . .

Danger. Run.

Her inner voice, the one that
had guided her for most of her life, spoke up, stronger than she ever recalled.
Heeding the warning, Bailey whirled and searched for escape. It took her only a
second to discard the closed door because she knew that would only lead into
the arms of her captor. Or worse.

A single window was set in the
wall, and a brief glance out showed nothing but darkness. A frantic tug at the
sash yielded nothing but frustration. Thwarted, she slammed her hands against the
wooden sash, noticing only too late the ragged nails holding it shut. The edge
of one caught at her skin, tearing it, and blood flowed from the wound. The
crimson trail threatened to drip, so she absently stuck her wounded digit in
her mouth, tasting the metallic fluid, and strangely enjoying it. She sucked at
the blood, a low growl escaping her when the flow stopped. Appalled at her
actions—and desire for more—she pulled her hand from her mouth and stared at
it. Incomprehension flooded her as she gazed at the unblemished skin.

But, I saw the cut there. I know I did. I tasted the blood.
She’d healed spontaneously.

Not understanding what this
meant, and frightened by it, she turned to the door, the only other exit from
the room and her only choice, like it or not.

On bare feet, she approached
it, her nerves taut and her breathing coming shallowly. She placed her hand on
the tarnished knob and turned it.

It swiveled.

Astonishment made her let go. Why
had they left it unlocked? Was it a trick?
Perhaps
I jumped to conclusions and I haven’t been abducted at all.

Holding her breath for a
moment, Bailey listened, her ears straining for a sign someone waited on the
other side, any kind of noise to show she wasn’t alone. Nothing came back to
her, other than the faint creaking of an old house settling with age. She
grasped the knob again and turned it. This time she didn’t release it when the
latch clicked and the door crept open. Pulling it toward her, certain at any
moment the bogeyman would jump out and yell,
“Boo,”
she couldn’t believe her luck, didn’t trust it.

Nothing lurked out in the hall.
On tiptoe, she snuck down the corridor, wincing at the faint creak as the floor
underfoot gave under her weight. Pausing at the head of the stairs, where the
faint glow of a light below illuminated the worn treads, she finally heard some
noise, more like a whimper. She peeked down the stairs and then back up the
hall, where another plaintive cry sounded.

Bailey chewed her lip as
indecision gripped her.
Do I go for help
or try to help?
That moment cost her. The door from whence the crying came
opened, and a man exited, still buttoning up his pants. Raising his head, he
froze when he saw her. Unshaven, his hair shaggy and wild, his leering smile
sent chills down her spine and dispelled any last illusion she still harbored
that she wasn’t in danger.

“Well, look at what we’ve got
here. You’re an eager little slut, aren’t you? Coming to find me for your turn,
were you?” The ruffian grabbed at his crotch and thrust it in her direction.

Disgust made her stomach roil. Shaking
her head, Bailey kept her eyes trained on the man as her foot slipped back,
looking for purchase on the first step.

“Where do you think you’re
going, my chubby slut? The master brought you here for our use. He told us to
plow that belly of yours good and hard. I gotta say, I’ve been waiting for this
moment.” He licked his lips, and bile coated the back of her mouth, making her
eyes water. “He kept you down there for a while. Screaming and begging. I’ll
bet you he’s got you worked in real good now. Are you gonna scream nice and
loud for me too when I take you?”

What was he talking about? The
words of the miscreant spun in her mind, but made no sense. He talked as if
Bailey were the victim of torture and possibly even rape, and yet, she bore no
signs of either.

Shaking her head wildly in
denial, she slid her other foot to join the first, landing half on the step. Not
losing her fixed stare at the approaching brute, she made her way down the
stairs backward.
He’s just trying to
freak me out.
He probably thrived on his victim’s fear.
And he’s succeeding. I am so scared right
now.
But she daren’t let herself falter, not with the deadly promise in his
flat eyes.

A creak from below caught her
attention, and she darted a look down.

Oh no.
Another man,
this one familiar because she remembered him from the bar, had his foot on the
first step. He leered up at her.

A shadow fell over her as the first
thug hit the top of the stairs. “So who’s going to be first, me or Leroy here?
Or maybe you’d like us both at the same time?”

A low wail built up in her
chest, but couldn’t escape, not through a throat clenched tight in fear. Caught
between the two of them, she shook. She couldn’t let them touch her. Couldn’t
let them do what she saw in their eyes and menacing smiles.

I’d rather die.

When the guy below her got
close enough, she gathered herself and launched her body at him. She caught him
off guard and hit him, hard enough she threw him off balance. Arms windmilling,
he teetered, then fell.

Unfortunately, given her
momentum, she plummeted with him.

Bailey felt every solid step
she hit, bruises blossoming in the jolting wake, followed by pain. She lucked
out on a soft landing, though, as she ended up on top of a groaning Leroy, who
hadn’t fared as well, it seemed.

Not wasting time, she scrambled
to her feet, the sound of feet pounding down the stairs too close for comfort. Lucky
for her, the front door opened on the first pull, and she dashed out into
darkness.

A howl erupted behind her, an
inhuman sound that made her mind stray to a dark corner better left untouched.

Not thinking, not bothering to
pause and take her bearings, she leapt off the porch and ran.

She sprinted, arms pumping, chest
heaving, her breathing coming in whimpering pants while her blood surged
through her body. Floating like the wind, her bare feet seemed to barely touch
the ground and didn’t register the debris in her path. She tore through the
trees and bramble with no clear destination in mind other than escape. She ran
as if her life depended on it because she knew that if she didn’t, she would
die, felt that with a certainty in the marrow of her bones and a chilling fear
that made her gulp air in harsh sobs.

Behind her, the crackling of fallen
leaves and steady thumps signaled pursuit, but it was the baying, the exultant
voices of the predators chasing her, raised in a chorus, that made her skin
pimple. Not the barking of dogs, although they would have proven dangerous on
their own. The eerie howling reminded her of . . .

Wolves? Seriously?
A
hysterical giggle got caught in her throat at the thought she might have escaped
death at human hands only to possibly find it in the jaws of an animal. But
only if they caught her.

It surprised her that she’d
found the energy to flee. After all, she’d been drugged and fallen down a
flight of stairs. She would have expected to feel weak. Instead, she discovered
strength, a stamina unlike any she’d ever known. Stranger, she didn’t feel any
pain from her surely bruised body. Then again, she’d heard adrenaline could
make a person do just about anything. Throw in a need for survival, and she’d
probably leap buildings too if they ended up in her path.

Movement out of the corner of
her eye caught her attention. She turned her head sideways and stumbled as the yellow
glowing eyes, tinged in red, of a predator met hers. As if her attention were a
signal, it veered and leapt at her.

A scream escaped her as the
heavy body hit her in the side, taking her to the ground. The impact made her
grunt, and her breath left her in a whoosh. Fingers scrabbling at the dirt,
limbs thrashing, she only managed to turn herself until she lay on her back.
The wolf unfortunately followed, his heavy body astride hers.

Instinct made her push her
hands up to grasp at the underside of the creature’s jaws as it snapped at her.

Foiled, it growled, low and
menacing. Bailey whimpered in fear, struggling against the heavy body and
fighting to keep its slavering jaws away.

Hysteria made her eyes water,
and she keened, a forlorn sound that she scarcely recognized as coming from
her. She didn’t know how long she could keep the beast at bay and wondered why
she bothered. Did she seriously think she could outwrestle a wolf?

The thought no sooner crossed
her mind than the body atop hers went tumbling sideways as something hit it. Bailey
lay there panting for a moment, incomprehension not allowing her to register
what she saw at first.

Eyes adjusted to the darkness
to a certain extent, she peered in disbelief. A second wolf, or a huge dog, had
joined the fray, but instead of aiding the first beast, the new wild canine
snapped at it. Even more peculiar, her furry rescuer’s eyes shone a vivid
green. The black-haired beast caught her gaze and tossed its head at her, as if
signaling her away.

Impossible, and surely a
product of her wishful mind, but Bailey obeyed anyway, scrambling to her feet
and taking off again. The sounds of primitive battle receded as she resumed her
race through the forest. However, she hadn’t left danger behind. The number of
baying voices seemed to treble, and the wetness of her fearful tears almost
made her blind.

The sound of pursuit, crackling
leaves and snapping branches, approached once again, and she whimpered.

She’d gotten lucky once. She
doubted she’d get lucky again.