True Alpha (27 page)

“Did you pick up those scents?” Jack asked after shifting back into his human form.

April, still in her wolf form, nodded.

“Four more men is my guess,” Jack whispered to Ronnie, who’d remained in his human form so he could keep his rifle at the ready. “Wouldn’t you say, April?”

She nodded again, her blue eyes grave. Together, the three of them waited, hardly daring to move as they strained their ears for any sign of the others approaching or for any unusual activity at the top of the hill, where Mandy was being held prisoner. Sweat rolled down Jack’s forehead and made his jaw itch as time slipped by, every moment they waited a moment that she spent bleeding and alone, not knowing help was so close at hand. He didn’t dare shift back into his wolf form, because sitting there and breathing in the scent of her blood while not being able to take action would’ve driven him crazy.

At last, the others arrived – Daniel, Clarissa, Violet and Will, led by Noah. They were all in their animal forms except for Will, who’d remained human and carried his rifle cradled in both arms. His chest heaved and his t-shirt was sweat-soaked from the effort of running quickly enough to keep up with the wolves.

Jack didn’t waste any time in explaining his plan. “She’s being held in that hunting shack. There are two men guarding the building and several – probably four – more hiding some distance behind the shack. I’ll divide the pack into even teams of three, and we’ll storm the hill, flanking them from both sides. Ronnie and Will will wait here and cover us as best they can with their rifles.

Our first objective will be to kill both of the hunters who are patrolling near the building. Keep them away from the shack – don’t draw them to it, and try to keep them in positions where Ronnie and Will can fire from below without having to worry about hitting the building. With any luck, they’ll be able to take out the first two hunters with a couple bullets and we won’t even have to touch ‘em.”

Of course, if the kidnappers were smart, they’d get behind or inside the shack as soon as they realized that there was someone below with a gun.

If Ronnie and Will were given clear shots at both the hunters, they’d probably both be dead before they realized there were armed men below. Problem was, the other hunters still hadn’t shown themselves, and Jack had a feeling they wouldn’t. They’d hidden on purpose, no doubt hoping that Mandy’s rescuers would mistakenly think she was being guarded by only two men and would rush into an ambush. Well, they’d still be rushing in – they didn’t have a choice – but they’d be wary of hidden hunters, and they’d have Ronnie and Will covering them from below.

A perfectly-timed breeze blew over the top of the hill and down its front slope, filling the valley and drifting to its edge, where they were hidden. Jack shifted back into his wolf form, aware that the air had rushed though the gaps between the shack’s boards. He breathed, testing the air for any new clues.

The breeze carried Mandy’s sweet scent, as expected, plus the muskier odors of her captors.

Jack swallowed a thick knot that had formed in his throat. The second man had entered the shack instead of looping around it again on his patrol and was in there with her. Their scents were drifting on the same breeze, practically intertwined. What was he doing to her? Why was she bleeding? He shifted back into his human form. “We can’t afford to wait.” She was hurt; every moment counted. “Ronnie and Will, don’t shoot the outside guard until we’ve been exposed.” They couldn’t risk giving away their presence to the second hunter, the one inside with Mandy – if he knew they were there and that his partner had been shot, he might kill her on the spot.

Jack met each of his packmates’ eyes. “This is gonna be a huge risk, but it’s our only hope of getting Mandy out alive.”

The wolves each nodded in turn, and Jack’s heart swelled with gratitude. They might not have been a part of the pack long, but they were dedicated, willing to risk their lives for their packmate like any good wolf shifter should be.

“I say we stand a good chance,” Jack said. “There are six of us wolves and six of those hunters. They’ve got the advantage of high ground, but we’ve got Ronnie and Will, which they probably won’t be expecting.”

Another round of nods.

Jack met Ronnie and Will’s eyes too, and a silent resolve passed between them.

“I’ll be covering your side of the hill, Jack,” Ronnie said. “My dad will cover the other.”

“Daniel, Clarissa – you two come with me, and we’ll take the right side. Noah, you lead April and Violet up the left.”

Another round of nods.

In the blink of an eye, Jack was a wolf again. He took off toward the right, skirting the clearing and sticking to the trees as Daniel and Clarissa followed him. As they began the journey up the incline, his spine prickled as he imagined what the man in the shack might be doing to Mandy. Within minutes, he’d be tasting the bastard’s blood.

****

A bead of cold sweat trickled down Mandy’s temple as her fair-haired captor pulled something down from the shelf. When he squatted in front of her, he held a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the bread stained purple with grape jelly. Could he see her pulse fluttering beneath her jaw like a hummingbird’s wings?

He pulled the masking tape from her mouth with a quick motion and tossed it aside. “Eat.” Extending his arm, he held the sandwich so that it brushed her lips.

She took a bite, the soggy bread and its pasty fillings the least of her worries. Her hands trembled faintly, wrapped in fists around the precious treasure she’d pried from the wall. Any minute could be the minute. Either captor could be the one. This could be it – he could be the one. Her nerves sparked with anxiety as she chewed, trying to seem as if nothing had changed since the last time either of them had entered the shack.

The leaves outside rustled as her other captor neared the structure, his boots churning up the detritus of autumn as he made his rounds. As a glob of peanut butter stuck in her throat, she tightened her hold on the nail. The thought of using it sent adrenaline creeping through her veins, and the baby shifted inside her belly, as if picking up on the signal that something was about to happen.

She willed her nerves to unwind as she swallowed hard, clearing the peanut butter from her throat. So far, her captor didn’t seem to suspect anything; if she could just finish the sandwich and probably another juice box, she’d be in the clear.

Of course, a part of her wished that action was on the horizon, that Jack and the others were descending upon the shack as she was hand-fed like an animal. Truth was, this would be the ideal time for a rescue attempt. She had one of her captors in the shack, right where she’d want him under those circumstances. And better yet, she had the one with the biggest gun. There was no question that she’d do the most good by taking out the man with the AR-15. Plus, if she managed to defeat him, she could use it. It wouldn’t be easy to turn the tables, but it was her only option.

The footsteps outside stopped. Another bead of cold sweat trickled past Mandy’s ear and to her jaw as she silently prayed that her other captor wouldn’t come inside. They rarely both occupied the little shanty at once, probably simply because it was so small, and now that she was waiting and ready to use her nail, she dreaded the thought of being trapped inside with the both of them. Her plan would never work if she was forced into action with both men there.

Bang!
A gunshot put an end to her worries and provided a host of new ones.

The unexpected sound had caused her to jerk, and the back of her head throbbed where she’d bumped it against the wall. Instantly, she worried that something about her movements had tipped her captor off to the fact that she was no longer restrained.

The light-haired man snapped back around to face Mandy, his pale blue eyes intent. He’d dropped the sandwich into her lap when the first gunshot had sounded outside. Now, he picked up his gun, the semi-automatic monster she’d been hoping to get her hands on. Her heart sank as he raised it; clearly, one or more of the Half Moon Pack wolves were outside. She couldn’t let him use it on them. Not under any circumstances; the weapon would whittle their chances down to a whisper-thin scrap of hope.

Her captor’s radio buzzed with static. “They’re here,” a male voice rasped. “A whole mess of wolves. Stick to the plan.”

But apparently, using his weapon on Mandy’s packmates wasn’t what he had in mind – at least, not yet. “Scream,” he said, his deep voice grating as he raised the gun high over his head and brought the butt down on Mandy’s folded knee.

Something snapped and light flared in the field of Mandy’s vision, vivid and white-hot, just like the pain that shot up her thigh, zinging into every fiber of her being like lightning. It was so intense that the back of her throat tightened, stopping her breathing for several moments. Thank God her gag had been removed; if it had been in place, she would have vomited and choked.

Her captor grimaced, his lips twisting in distaste. “I said scream.”

Apparently, she’d forgotten to do so. The pain was so intense that just collecting her whirling thoughts and corralling them somewhere in her mind, which was currently exploding with pain, was a challenge.

He grabbed the front lapel of her robe and jerked, pulling her forward.

As she pitched head-forward, she was forced into an elevated kneeling position. A grenade might as well have detonated in her knee; agony rolled through her in waves, causing bright spots to dance before her eyes. Finally, she screamed, loud and raw.

“What the—” Her attacker recoiled, letting go of her lapel and leaving her to drop onto the floor, bumping her belly on the packed dirt.

The baby. No…
Alarm bells went off in her head, even louder and more persistent than her pain. What if the baby had been hurt? She pressed her hands to the floor and pushed herself back up as quickly as she could, suddenly besieged by nausea.

Her hands. She’d shown them, which explained her attacker’s sudden reaction. Her body felt as if it was fracturing into pieces and her mind was shrouded in a mixture of mingled panic and dread, but it was now or never. She’d kept the nail wrapped tightly in one fist; now she gripped it between her thumb and forefinger, allowing the pointed end to protrude along with a couple inches of the steel shaft.

Her captor had raised his gun again and was a hairsbreadth away from bringing it down – onto her belly, it seemed. As her gut cramped with sickening fear, she brought up her fist with all her might, swinging upward toward the underside of his throat, which his malevolent pose left exposed.

The point of the nail punctured his neck with a muted
thunk
, sinking into his throat just above his Adam’s apple. Driven by frantic fear that he’d manage to bring the butt of the gun down onto her belly, she lunged forward, putting all her weight behind the motion and pushing the nail as deep as it would go.

He tumbled backward and she fell on top of him, her knee exploding with agony all over again. For a moment she lay with her face on his chest, her head swimming as streaks of bright light painted themselves across the backs of her eyelids. Then he moved, shifting beneath her, rolling onto his side.

She scrambled off of him as hastily as she could and reached for the gun he’d dropped when she’d stabbed him.

For a moment, their eyes met, her gaze locking with his bulging blue eyes as he extended a hand, trying and failing to reach the gun as she cradled it against her chest. Blood was trickling down his throat, and when he opened his mouth, it flowed from one corner. Abandoning his attempt to retrieve his original weapon, he shoved a hand into the deep cargo pocket of his hunting pants.

He pulled out a small .22 pistol, much like the one she’d brought along on her trip to the Smokies months ago, when she’d first met Jack. His knuckles went white as he gripped the handle, raising the gun so that she was staring down the narrow barrel.

She hurried to raise her own weapon, but it was heavy and her body was wracked with pain; acid climbed up her throat, threatening to make her vomit. She’d never used anything like an AR-15 before. He fired before she could, and tiny as the gun’s bullet was, it hit her with all the force of a freight-train.

Chapter 14

He’d probably been aiming for her heart. She was lucky that he’d missed, hitting her shoulder instead, and yet, she felt nothing but horror as blood blossomed on the front of her robe. She’d managed to carry out her plan, and still, it had failed. Even with blood flowing from his throat and both corners of his mouth, he was still going. The AR-15 was suddenly too heavy for her arms; it slid over her belly and into her lap as pain radiated throughout her chest and left arm.