Clint cursed as yet another promising lead-an interesting scent for his wolf-led to a dead end. Whoever controlled the rogues and threatened Josie had hidden their tracks well. He had wolves spread throughout the city; they listened to rumors and followed their noses as they checked for new smells.
But a whole day of searching ended up in a pile of squat. Well, not entirely, one of their ranks had accidentally come across his mate and was now off celebrating, naked in bed, which was where Clint wished he was now, Josie at his side.
Clint clambered back into his SUV, Brandon seating himself on the passenger side.
“So, now what, boss?” Brandon asked, his tone just as weary.
“I don’t know. I think it’s time to call it a day,” said Clint, frustration evident in his tone. “We’re not getting anywhere searching blindly. Maybe we need to change tactics.”
“What do you mean?” asked Brandon, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.
“Right now we’re looking for a needle in a haystack. What we need is a magnet.”
Brandon shot up in his seat. “No way. You can’t seriously be thinking of using Josie as bait. She could get hurt!”
Clint slapped the steering wheel. “I’m aware of the danger, but what other choice do we have? Whoever is fucking with us is laughing right now as we run around in circles chasing our own tails. Not to mention, we’re spreading ourselves thin and tiring the pack.”
“I don’t like it. We’ve only been at it a day. I’d rather she stay safe.”
Clint, looking out the window at the quickly darkening sky, couldn’t help feeling Josie was in more danger now than ever. Hell, he was so worried, he could swear he even heard her calling for help. Calling for…
“Fuck! Call the ranch.”
“Why?” asked Brandon, then his eyes widened. “You heard it, too. I thought I was imagining her call for help.” He whipped out his cell phone and rang the house, but after six rings, voicemail picked up. He dialed the numbers of the wolves left to guard, but they all went to a busy signal.
Clint didn’t need to talk to someone to know Josie was in danger. He sped the SUV through traffic, weaving in and out, racing as quickly as he dared and then some.
He knew they were too late as soon as he pulled up to the ranch and saw the note pinned to the door. He ran for the porch, his booted feet thumping as he pounded up the steps. He tore the note from the door, chills shaking him to the core as he saw the familiar handwriting.
He ignored Brandon, who leaned over his shoulder reading along with him, fear and anger battling for supremacy.
I’ve taken the bitch, and the choice is simple. Present yourselves to me and swear yourself into my service, and she goes free. Fight or avoid my summons, and she dies. Simple enough even you mongrels should grasp it. Come and pay fealty to your new master at the refinery. The choice whether she lives or dies is yours. And, might I add, if you choose her death, it will be a bloody and painful one.
Clint couldn’t stop it. He howled. A rage-filled sound whose deadly challenge rose to hang in the night sky and was echoed by his beta.
“It dies,” Clint growled, his humanity losing the battle against the fierce anger of his beast. His fingernails elongated into claws, and rippling muscle and flesh tore through the fabric he wore.
But Clint fought the urges of his wolf-the need to protect his mate. If they were to survive, he needed to think. He didn’t for one moment believe that the bastard toying with them would let Josie go.
Brandon, who’d lost the battle with his wolf, whined beside him.
Clint looked down at his furry blond friend. “I need to call in the pack before we go. We need them to take out the guards while we take care of the one in charge.” In other words, tear the fucker limb from limb.
It didn’t take long for him to send out a blanket text message to the pack. He didn’t wait for their answer. They would show up as instructed or face his wrath after.
Clint looked down at his ragged garments and vetoed changing. No point in possibly ruining two sets of clothes. Besides, he kept spare outfits for emergencies stashed in his SUV.
Clint opened the back tailgate so Brandon could jump in. Clint slid back into the driver seat and stomped the gas. Gravel went flying as the SUV fishtailed around and flew back up the drive.
Too angry to think-and scared for Josie-he tried to concentrate on sensing her again. But he heard nothing else, and that frightened him even more than the note. What if she’s already dead? No, she can’t be. I’d know if she was. But, fuck, she’s got to be terrified, especially if as I suspect the bogeyman behind her nightmares has her. Please don’t let me be too late.
The miles sped by in the darkness as Clint maneuvered the SUV through the back roads leading to the abandoned refinery. A place that a pair of his men had checked and concluded abandoned for a while. The same pair of men who’d taken over the last protective guard detail and who were now missing.
Dammit, they probably stumbled onto the bastard, and he messed with their minds just like he did with those rogues. He was pissed at himself for not realizing the possibility sooner. He’d pushed aside the weird mind-control issue assuming the rogues had been weak and easily taken over. He’d underestimated the enemy, and Josie now paid the price for his mistake.
Hold on, baby. I will make this right. I swear.
He drew into the vacant parking lot of the abandoned refinery. He didn’t bother hiding his arrival. If the message had gotten out, then his wolves would be arriving by stealth to surround the place. Or so he hoped. His drive from the ranch should have taken longer than it took his troops to get there on furry feet, but he dared not search for or contact them. Nor did he have the patience to wait, not while Josie remained in peril.
He opened the rear hatch and Brandon, the fur of his beast bristling, jumped out. Before he could tell Brandon to wait, he took off.
Clint followed more cautiously. He wouldn’t do anyone any good dead. He debated changing shapes, but decided against it for the moment. Even in human form, his senses were heightened.
The derelict building loomed over him, and he had no difficulty finding a door to enter. Once inside, he inhaled deep and almost gagged. The alien stench he’d smelled before when Josie dreamed permeated the air, a sickening smell. Melted into it he found tendrils of wolf, some familiar to him, along with other scents that reminded him of other shifters he’d encountered over the years. He also caught the scent of Josie.
He separated her smell from the others and followed it, its faint trail leading him to a dark doorway with stairs leading down. He moved down the steps, the oppressive stench of the one who wanted to be master pressing down on him, trying to twist his thoughts. However, Clint hadn’t become alpha because he was weak. Actually, the attempt to fuck with his mind made him seethe with anger, which strengthened him. He easily repelled the suggestion to surrender that hovered in the air. You’re going have to do better than that, you bastard.
He’d almost reached the bottom when he heard Josie whimper, the sound faint, yet his wolf recognized it, and the terror that underlay it.
With a roar, his beast took over. Instinct drove him to run toward his mate, the protective need too strong to control. It barreled him right into a trap.
Snarling bodies slammed into him, but Clint wouldn’t allow them to keep him from his woman. She needs me, and they’re in my way.
With a roar, he tore into the snapping mob, only vaguely noticing Brandon ’s arrival. Together they battled, the sharp tear of their teeth and stronger bodies overcoming the paltry force sent to stop them.
When the last body dropped, with wheezes and whines, Clint raced down the hall, sensing Josie’s nearness. Brandon followed at his heels. Just before a gaping archway he halted. The alien miasma peppered with Josie’s sweeter essence poured forth, and Clint knew he’d found them. Clint shifted back to his man shape, his expression grim.
I’m here, baby. Just hold on, and I’ll make sure the nightmare is over, permanently.