The Wolf Fount (24 page)

His eyes shot back to the door upon hearing a soft click. The bottom slot’s door was lifted, and a covered tray was pushed through with a metal rod. A second tray followed before the slot was closed and relocked. Thane sniffed and was rewarded with the rich smells of hot food. Beside him, Morgan drew in a deep breath and suddenly moaned.

She opened her eyes. “Is that food?”

He nodded. Better to avoid a headache until absolutely necessary. She nearly smiled, pausing when a portion of the scab on her lip cracked. “Ow. Is it safe to eat?”

That, he didn’t know, and his one-shouldered shrug earned a sigh from her. “How do we find out?”

He tapped his chest and pointed to his mouth then spread his thumb and forefinger to indicate “small.” Morgan nodded. “You’re going to test it.”

With a smile, he patted her arm. Directly after, Thane reached for her hand to show her the attached IV line. Her eyes widened and brightened, gold sparking in their centers. “What the hell is it?”

Holding up one hand, he smiled.
It’s good for you. Don’t worry
.

Morgan blinked and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone.”

Pleased by her trust, Thane touched her hair again and left the bed to collect the trays. By the time he returned, she’d sat up and shoved her pillow into place behind her, against the wall. Her finger was in her mouth. Morgan pulled it out. “We can regrow teeth?”

Her obvious amazement reminded him how new she was to being a Were. The were-liger smiled, holding out one of the trays. She took it and settled it across her legs before lifting the lid. “Well, it smells better than it looks. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, milk, and I think that’s tapioca for dessert. I hate tapioca.”

Thane checked his tray to find identical offerings. The utensils were plastic spoons, less useful as weapons than fangs and claws. He tested a bite of each item from her tray first, waiting several minutes between each to see if anything happened. Poison wouldn’t kill them, but, like physical trauma, would cause damage that would need time to heal.

Nothing happened, so he nodded for her to begin eating and walked around the bed to sit before testing his own food. Morgan ate slowly, her eyes darting around the cell. Her forehead furrowed in thought. “Last thing I remember is you breaking that son of a bitch’s neck. What happened after I passed out?”

He directed her attention to the pink spot on his chest and mimed a gun. “They shot you?”

With a nod, he began eating. They’d need all the energy they could generate, and food was fuel. But he kept watch on her face, thinking over the events since they’d last left headquarters. There hadn’t been much of a chance before now.

She didn’t leave because of me. She didn’t leave me behind, and she could’ve—probably would’ve had a better chance to escape on her own
. Thane wished he could tell her how he felt about her actions, but that would have to wait until they were somewhere safe. The goal now was to stay alert and try to avoid unnecessary injury, in order to have the best chances if an opportunity to escape presented itself.

He wasn’t an idiot, and knew her behavior after her attack on Cal had been the result of playing nice until she could figure out a way to leave. But he’d been certain she’d changed her mind before their first night together, and now, there was solid proof she had. The were-liger had taken a chance that he was right, that she wouldn’t run at the first opportunity, when she’d left Cal’s suite the night all this trouble had begun. Morgan had fulfilled his trust in her.

Exactly how many days had passed since then? Thane didn’t know, with the few facts he had at hand. But surely Cal was searching for them by now, even if the First might’ve initially thought Morgan had kidnapped him. Enough time had to have passed for it to be clear that wasn’t what had happened, because Cal knew Thane wouldn’t leave him hanging and worried.

“They had to have found the wreck,” Morgan said, echoing his thoughts while poking at the lump of tapioca with her spoon. “I’m not eating this. Do you want it?”

He’d rather she ate it, but nodded. The texture was abhorrent to him, but food was food. She scraped the lump off her tray, on top of his tapioca. “All yours.”

Morgan looked up at the IV bag. “Someone will have to come check that, right?” He nodded. “Think they’ll bring us some clothes?”

That, he didn’t know. Clothing made people feel less vulnerable. Whoever had them could want the psychological advantage leaving them nude would give. She correctly interpreted his one-shouldered shrug and sighed. “Well, we can tear the sheet and make togas.”

Quickly swallowing a mouthful of tapioca, Thane leaned and gently kissed her cheek. Morgan nearly smiled, but remembered the condition of her lips in time. “You know, there’s this thing called sign language. We should both learn it so I don’t have to constantly ask you yes-or-no questions.”

He put down his spoon and signed
I already know it
.

Her eyes narrowed. “Smart ass.”

With a smile, Thane picked up his spoon and finished eating.

“G
etting really tired of being a day late and dollar short,” Cal said, liberally flashing his frown around the room. “Now, which one is Riscorato?”

“The juicy one.” Laney’s head was lowered and slightly tilted, her eyes focused on the pudgy figure kneeling in the middle of the men they’d captured. Weres liked to work in pairs; she and he were the bad cops this time, leaving Jerome and Lucas to play the good cops. Cal knew she enjoyed the chance to be the bad guy from time to time—and he rather enjoyed when she played the part too. Laney suddenly snapped her teeth, showing fangs. “Can I start with his fingers?”

“Hold up. Let’s give the gentleman a chance to talk first.” Jerome slipped between Riscorato and her, blocking the sweating man’s view. “Look, man, this bitch,” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Laney, “be crazy. You don’t even want to know the things I’ve seen her do, and the big guy? He’s worse.”

“I talk and you kill us all anyway. I know how it works.” Riscorato sneered, but a tremor in his voice indicated it was all bravado.

He was also wrong. They didn’t kill humans unless absolutely necessary. Cal would turn the captives over to the FBI, after he’d gotten the information he wanted. That was how things worked between WatchWeres Inc. and most governments: catch human criminals, turn them over to human law. They’d already found enough drugs stashed away to guarantee Riscorato would be spending the rest of his life in prison.

But their captives didn’t know that. He growled, shoving past Jerome to look down at Riscorato. “You’re right, but talking will make the difference in how fast or slow you die.”

“They ain’t here,” one of the other men said.

“Shut up, Tommy,” another muttered.

“You saw what they did to Fig, even chained up. If I gotta go, it ain’t going to be the slow and scenic route.” Tommy, a bulky forty-something with more hair poking out from the V of his shirt than on his head, looked at Cal. “I’ll talk.”

Laney snarled behind Cal, and he fought the urge to turn around as the captives collectively flinched backward. She was good at halting her change, good enough to almost be mistaken for the classic movie werewolf. He could only imagine what her face looked like at the moment, but knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. “Then start talking.”

“Boss hired some escort a couple months ago. She decided to take a bigger tip than he gave for her trouble. Bag with fifty K, meant as payment to a supplier.” Tommy paused. “Boss sent Fig to retrieve it. Teach the hooker a lesson. That didn’t work out so well for Fig. Boss likes to live large, couldn’t scrape up replacement cash.”

“I’m getting bored, Tommy,” Laney said, her voice deeper than normal. “Really, really bored.”

The man’s eyes rounded as he looked past Cal. “The supplier’s a vampire. He’s been making something new, using vamp blood.”

Maybe he’d keep Tommy. The man could prove helpful later. “Speed it up.”

“Sure thing. He sent a guy to track the hooker down. Not sure why, but he decided he wanted the man she was hanging with, and told the boss he could have the hooker if he arranged for delivery of the man. His guy grabbed them, we picked ‘em up. They killed his guy, and he changed the terms, wanted ‘em both.” Tommy paused to lick his lips, his eyes flicking from Cal to Laney. “He sent people to get them last night.”

Cal could think of a dozen master vampires who’d recognize Thane, and want to get their hands on him. “I need a name, Tommy.”

“The vamp calls himself Nero Vitus.”

He hadn’t heard the name before, but Cal knew it what it meant in ancient Latin: Strong, vigorous life. “What do you think, L? Should we let Tommy live?”

They never used their full names in such situations. Laney responded without pause, knowing he meant her. “He could be useful.”

“It’s your lucky day,” Cal told Tommy. “Get up and come with me.”

“What about the rest of us?” asked the one who’d told Tommy to shut up.

Cal turned around and smiled at Laney. “They’re all yours.”

“G
ot to say, I’m not exactly thrilled with some aspects of my new life.” Morgan and Thane were watching the door, waiting for their empty trays to be taken. “Not that my old life was worth writing home about, but at least I could drive down the highway without a vampire crashing into me.”

She ached, presumably from the faster-than-human healing her body was completing. The remainder of her injuries were superficial. Not that Morgan minded the ache; it was easier to deal with than the pain from the wreck or Bully Boy’s beat down. “Being a Were seems to come packaged with extra violence.”

The were-liger’s response was to reach for her hand. She let him have it. “Think Calhoun’s looking for us?”

He nodded, shooting her a brief smile before returning his attention to the door. Morgan sighed. “Well, he’s probably looking for you. Bet he wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t found. Be one less headache for him if I disappeared.”

Thane shook his head, gently squeezing her hand. She suppressed a derisive snort. “Oh, come on. I’ve been nothing but trouble for him practically from the second he saw me. How many times has he threatened to toss me in an isolation cell now? Four, five?”

He responded with another gentle squeeze. Apparently, he wasn’t worried about Calhoun abandoning her regardless of how she’d behaved. Morgan frowned. “He’s right. I do have an anger management problem. But he’s wrong about it causing my problems. I’m angry because of them.”

That drew a sidelong glance from the were-liger, and she raised an eyebrow. “What? The only real luck I’ve had in life was my mother not being addicted to crack or whatever, while she was pregnant with me. That’s a pretty shitty starting point, I don’t care who you are.”

Thane nodded in agreement. Morgan picked at the scabbing on her bottom lip. Some of it broke loose, and she tested the skin under it with the tip of her tongue. “Not that I’m whining about it. That’s just how it was. But it’s hard to make something of yourself when that’s your start in life.”

It wasn’t as though her new start was coming up roses either. “Now I’m stuck in someone’s dungeon. I haven’t exactly made it far in life, have I?”

Noises beyond the door closed her mouth, and the were-liger didn’t respond, his eyes focused on the door. The square at roughly head-level opened, but whoever was on the other side was a shadowed figure thanks to the brighter lighting behind him or her.

It proved to be a man. “The woman is to remain on the bed. You will move to the right corner of the room.”

“What if I don’t want him that far away?” Morgan asked, her fingers tightening around Thane’s hand.

“Your wants are irrelevant. He will do as told, or there will be consequences.”

Thane slowly disengaged, patting her hand before lowering it to the bed. He slipped out from under the sheet and went to the corner of the room. Even though he was less than twenty feet away, Morgan suddenly felt alone.

“Good. We will open the door now. Stay in your places.” The next sound indicated the door was locked by bolt. The door opened and four men entered, avoiding the trays. Two were carrying assault rifles, and quickly trained one on each of them. The other two were carrying far different items, and a wave of the odd mustiness told Morgan they were probably all vampires.

“Punishment for disobeying will be swift.” The speaker was the same one who’d given them directions, a pale, slender man with shoulder-length brown hair. He focused on Morgan, slightly lifting the bundle he held. “I will change your IV bag while you dress.”

The other unarmed man tossed a pile of clothing toward Thane, who caught it. “You will dress as well.”

She looked at the were-liger, who responded with a slight nod.
I hope he knows what he’s doing
. “All right.”

The line was disconnected to allow her to pull on the sleeveless, close-fitting black shirt and leggings. Morgan glanced at Thane while the vampire changed the IV bags and reattached the line to the catheter. The clothing he’d been given matched hers exactly. Neither of them were given footwear, and the vampires retreated, taking the old IV bag and trays with them.