Into the Lair

Chapter Three

Ian frowned as he stared down at Katie Buchanan. She lay on the seat, her body curled into a defensive posture even in sleep. Strain lined her forehead, and a frown tugged her lips downward. He reached down to touch the short blond wisps that lay raggedly on her neck. Then before giving it any thought, his finger traveled over her jaw to her lips where he smoothed the downward curve.

Her hair was an interesting assortment of lengths, like she cut it herself with no regard for appearance. The strands stuck out, each going a different direction, but on her it fit. She didn’t strike him as the sleek, always-styled type at all.

Hearing Braden behind him, he yanked his hand away and frowned in annoyance. His head ached like a mother, his eyes were crossing with fatigue, and yet he was standing here like a nimrod entertaining himself with her hairdo.

Grumbling to himself about psycho females, he gathered her limp body in his arms and hauled her out of the SUV. Braden walked ahead and opened the door to her apartment. They hadn’t wanted to risk getting a hotel room, and her apartment was unassuming.

Katie was an enigma. Cautious. Extremely so. Spooky as a bat, and she kept a very low profile. Looking around her apartment earlier, he’d discovered that she lived a very barebones existence. Odd for a woman. Did she know she was a target? Had Gabe warned her?

He shouldered his way into her small living room and gently laid her on the couch. Then he stepped away as Braden leaned in to check her pulse and peel back her eyelids.

“She’s going to have one hell of a bruise on her forehead,” Braden said as he straightened.

“She damn near broke my nose. You’ll forgive me if I’m not terribly sympathetic,” Ian said darkly.

“At least you aren’t walking funny and singing soprano,” Braden grumbled.

Ian grimaced and felt a sympathy twinge in the region of his groin. He’d seen how hard she’d kicked Braden in the balls. He’d be lucky if he ever fathered children after that.

“So what now?” Braden asked as he slumped down in one of armchairs.

Ian lowered himself into a chair as well and eyed his brother. “We get some damn sleep, and tomorrow we get the hell out of the country.”

“You call Eli yet?”

Ian frowned. “And when would I have had time to do that when we’ve been chasing the hellcat down all day?”

“And where are we taking her exactly?”

“You’re full of questions today, little brother.”

Braden grinned. “Am I annoying you?”

Ian scowled.

“Then my duty is done.”

“For someone who just got their balls relocated you sure are a cheerful son of a bitch.”

Braden shrugged. “Maybe I’m looking forward to being done with this. Makes me edgy being back in the good ole U.S. of A. I somehow doubt Uncle Sam will roll out the welcome mat, you know?”

Ian’s lips tightened. “Yeah, well fuck ’em. We’ll be out of here tomorrow.”

“Going where?” Braden asked again.

Ian sighed. “Eli’s supposed to be working on it. Evidently Falcon has a few safe houses across Europe. I liked Argentina, but that’s fucked now that Esteban knows where it is.”

“Isn’t the point of this exercise to lure Esteban?” Braden asked.

Ian nodded. “Yeah, but he’s not supposed to know he’s being lured. Going to Argentina would be tipping our hand, not to mention making us look like complete nimrods.”

Braden grew quiet for a moment. “Tell me something, Ian. Do you think this whole merger with Falcon is a good idea? I mean I know why Eli is there. Tyana’s fingers are wrapped tight around his nuts, and he’s content to be led around like a lapdog.”

Ian’s gaze narrowed. This was the first time he’d heard Braden express doubts about joining ranks with Falcon Mercenary Group. Their former team leader, Eli Chance, had fallen head over ass for Tyana Berezovsky, a member of Falcon, and with the way their hostage recovery team had gone to shit when they all turned into a bunch of unstable shifters, it made sense to team up with the merc group.

Eli wasn’t unstable, though. Resentment bubbled up before Ian could control it. He and Braden hadn’t been as lucky as Eli and Gabe. While the two other men had full control over their newfound abilities, Ian and Braden struggled with their instability on a daily basis.

Braden was watching him closely, and Ian tried to school his features. “Are you having doubts?” he asked Braden.

Braden looked thoughtful for a long moment. “Honestly? I don’t know. Too much has changed in too short a time. I don’t think Falcon will fuck us, if that’s what you’re asking. I just wonder how we fit into the picture. I don’t like the idea of being some fucking charity case and having their doctor shoved at us at regular intervals.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Ian muttered.

“Are we going to end up like Damiano?” Braden asked softly.

Ian swore under his breath. Damiano was a member of Falcon, and like Ian and Braden, a victim of the chemical agent that had changed them all into shifters. He was even more unstable than Ian and Braden, and if D’s future was their own, it wasn’t pretty.

Damn Esteban Morales. Damn him to hell. Ian glanced over at Katie again, and his resolve hardened. If she was their key to nailing Esteban’s ass, then he’d have no compunction about using her in any way necessary to achieve their means.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Ian said, ignoring Braden’s question. “You can take the couch. I’ll take Miss Psycho into the bedroom and make sure she isn’t going anywhere for the night.”

Katie came awake with a start. Her eyes flew open, and despite the fogginess surrounding her mind, she felt alert. Fear could do that to you. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she took stock of her situation.

She tried to move and then froze, feeling rope around one wrist. The next thing she registered was the large body of a man next to her. The third thing she realized was that she was in her own bed in her apartment.

As far as what-the-fuck moments went, this was a big one.

Her eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness, and she looked down again to see that she was tied to the man’s wrist. He was sound asleep, his soft, even breathing filling the room.

Then she frowned. There had been two of them. She remembered that much. Which meant that somewhere close, there was another one. As if one wasn’t enough to deal with.

She gritted her teeth then turned her attention to the rope binding her to the mountain of muscle lying next to her. With her free hand, she carefully slid her fingers under the neckline of her T-shirt and into the sports bra to find the tiny pocketknife underneath the curve of her right breast.

Dumb bastards hadn’t patted her down, but then why would they feel the need to search the poor defenseless little woman?

She pulled the razor-sharp blade free of the clasp with her teeth then ever so carefully, she lowered it to the length of rope between their wrists.

As it passed through the twines like butter, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for being prepared and making sure she kept the blade sharp. Gabe would be proud.

Deep sadness clogged her chest, pulling painfully at her heart. No, she wouldn’t think about him now. Later. When she was safe, she’d mourn. For now she had to make sure they didn’t both end up dead.

If it weren’t for the fact that she had no idea where the other guy was, she’d bolt out of bed and run. She’d have the element of surprise, and by the time sleeping dude figured out she was free, she’d be two blocks away.

Instead she inched her way off the bed. Slowly, carefully, moving the tiniest bit with each breath. Every time he stirred she froze. When he flinched, she held her breath. Until finally, she slid the remaining way.

Not wasting a moment, she hurried across the floor, damning the fact that the bastard had removed her shoes. She didn’t have time to find them.

She halted in the doorway to the living room when she saw the second man’s too-large body sprawled on her too-small couch. He didn’t appear to be sleeping as deeply as the man in her bed. Getting by him and out the door could be a problem.

She felt in her pockets and nearly cursed aloud. All her cash was gone. She trembled with rage and curled her fingers into tight fists at her sides. Her bankcard was gone along with her cash.

Tears of frustration burned her eyes, pissing her off even more as she made her way quietly across the living room floor.

Her hand was on the knob, and she held her breath as she made her bid for freedom.

“Tell me you aren’t going to make me chase your ass across town again.”

She yanked her head toward the couch to see the man leaning up on one elbow, staring balefully at her. Foregoing any attempt at stealth, she threw open the door and bolted into the night.

The pounding of footsteps behind her told her that she was being pursued. She put her head down and turned on the speed. At the end of the block, she darted across the deserted street and veered away from the direction of the park. They’d expect her to go the familiar route.

She’d only gone another block when she heard the groan of an engine. As she went to cross another street, the squeal of tires sounded deafeningly close, and she pulled up short just in time for a silver Mercedes to careen in front of her.

A man jumped from the driver’s seat, and even in the dark, his identity was unmistakable.

Fear, vicious and stark, pooled in her stomach and swelled outward until nausea overwhelmed her.

“Katie, my love. Out for a late-night jog? I’ve always thought you were in impeccable shape, but one would think you were running from someone. Surely not me? We have a lot to clear up, you and me.”

She stared dully at Ricardo de la Cruz. It was only a matter of time before he showed up. His henchmen had sat on her long enough for him to arrive.

Cocky and arrogant as ever. His perfect white teeth flashed in the glare of the streetlights. His smile was sinister, with the promise of retribution. If only she’d killed him instead of Paulo.

Bitterness welled in her mouth, hard to swallow.

She turned to run when a strange sound shattered the night. Her entire body jerked and went stiff as agony fired through every one of her nerves. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. So much pain. She was on fire.

For a moment, she stood locked in the grip of hell, her body refusing to respond to her commands. As she stared into the darkness, she saw the man who’d chased her from her apartment standing in the shadows a distance away.

His expression wasn’t one of triumph, however. Concern creased his brow, and he looked angry.

Then she sagged to the ground, gasps of pain spilling from her mouth. Desperately, she sucked in air, trying to drag more into her lungs. Lungs that felt as though they’d been torched.

Rough hands hauled her up. Fingers twisted in her hair, yanking her head back. She found herself staring into Ricardo’s handsome face right before his spit hit her on the cheek.

“You will pay for killing my brother, whore.”