CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The breath slammed out of Luke’s lungs. His gut hardened. “Where?”

The females led him to the spot in question, passing a dead human that Blair had evidently killed. And sure enough, there were tire tracks on the ground. His chest tight, he took off, following them … but they disappeared on reaching the road.

The bottom dropped out of Luke’s stomach, and bile burned the back of his throat. “Someone took her,” he said, the words like crushed stone. His cat went AWOL.

“Maybe there were more extremists hanging around,” said Farrell as he and several others came up behind Luke. “Maybe it was one of them,” the Head Enforcer added.

Maybe. But Luke didn’t think so. “He said he’d come for her soon.”

“You think it was her stalker?” asked Bailey.

Luke swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I fucking do.” Fear—so thick, so blinding, so incapacitating—stabbed deep into Luke’s chest, making every inhale hurt. At that same time, he found himself at the mercy of a rage so hot and consuming he could easily lose himself in it. And he felt his breathing go to shit.

Tate gripped his arm. “Don’t lose it. You can’t lose it right now.”

Luke felt his face go tight. “He has her, Tate.”

“But he won’t kill her,” the Alpha insisted. “Cling to that. She’ll still be alive when we get to her. And we will get to her. She needs you to stay calm.”

How could Luke be anything close to calm, when he didn’t even have an inkling of a clue where the hell she could be? He was always cool and rational in the face of danger or opposition; always the voice of reason even in situations where emotions ran intensely high. But none of said situations had ever before involved his mate being taken.

Havana took a step toward him, her face soft with sympathy. Luke slammed up a hand, halting her. He couldn’t handle anyone touching him right now. Couldn’t handle having his personal space invaded. Not when the dark emotions running riot inside him left him so close to exploding into violence.

Luke dragged a hand through his hair. Fuck, this wasn’t happening. He’d promised Blair that her stalker would never get to her. It hadn’t occurred to him that the bastard would follow them tonight; that he would take advantage of the pride’s distraction and make a move. The sly little bastard.

Luke’s cat clawed his insides, wanting out; wanting to hunt. He wasn’t the only one who longed to go hunting. But he needed a solid plan first.

He drew in a long breath, trying to center himself and quash the dread that ran rampant in his system. But it was hard. So goddamn hard. Dark scenarios kept playing out in his mind’s eye, and his cat’s blinding fury kept his own alive.

There were so many places she could be. So many plans her captor could have. So many terrible things that could happen to her if Luke failed to find her.

Tate was right, her kidnapper wasn’t likely to kill her. But he might well hurt her. He was already angry with her—his last letter had made that clear.

Blair was even angrier. And, far from meek or easily cowed, she wouldn’t feel compelled to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told. No, she’d let loose on him. There was no knowing how the bastard would react to that.

She would also be sure to tell the son of a bitch that she wasn’t his mate at all; that she’d never want him, never be his. And if he would rather see her dead than mated to another …

A cold shard of fear pierced Luke’s chest. If the worst happened, he’d keep his foot in this world, realm, whatever it was long enough to avenge her. Then he’d let go. Because even if he existed, he’d be dead without her anyway.

Hell, he’d been half-dead when he found her six years ago. She’d saved him. It was only her and their bond that gave him peace … though, he suddenly realized, he’d subconsciously worried that the mental tempest would return, mating bond or no. He’d worried that it would sweep him under again, submerging his mind in darkness. Worried that she’d be stuck mated to a man she couldn’t emotionally reach; one who saw her but felt disconnected from her; one so numb and lost and shrouded in a thick fog that he might as well not be there.

Luke realized something else, too. He realized that, desperate to ensure she never met that fate, he’d involuntarily and subconsciously held back from fully committing to her—scared he’d otherwise doom her.

Intellectually, he knew that the fear was groundless. He felt how their bond stabilized him, and he was certain right down to his bones that it would always be that way. But the matter had nonetheless caused him to shy away from the bond on a level that he hadn’t seen until now.

He cursed himself for holding back from his own mate out of some unnecessary fear that he’d—

A sharp, dazing pain knifed through his head and chest. His world tilted, and his vision blurred and grayed around the edges. But then the pain and disorientation subsided … and he realized that the mating bond had fully snapped into place.

His heart began to gallop as sheer joy flowed through him and his cat, smoothing over their ragged nerves. God, Luke could feel her so much more intensely now. Could feel her inside him, not merely linked to him.

Maybe it was the stability of knowing that their bond was complete, but his panic receded slightly, allowing him to focus. He shoved energy down their link, determined to wake her; to give her the strength to fight.

Eying him closely, Tate narrowed his eyes. “The bond is complete.”

Luke gave a curt nod, rolling his shoulders. “My cell. I need my cell.” With that, he quickly headed back to the pride’s vehicles.

“Why?” asked Tate as he and the others ran after him.

“Because I need to call Mitch. I need to find out where Donal and Antoine are right now. You contact the enforcers who are watching Gabriel; ask them where he is. At least one of them will be off the radar. Maybe if we work out who took her we can work out where they took her.”

Again, Luke sent moreenergy rippling down their link, silently willing her to wake up, praying to the universe and every possible celestial force to keep her safe.

Surges of energy pushed down the mating bond, dragging Blair out of sleep. She distantly noted the rumbling of an engine—a rumbling that reverberated against the hard floor beneath her, seeming to vibrate against the side of her body that was all but plastered to it. Her mind was all hazy and cottony. She drifted. Floated. Could barely put her thoughts together.

Sleep once more tried to claim her despite the queasiness in her stomach and the ache in her head, but another rush of energy slinked through her system. Her female butted her hard, slamming her body against Blair’s insides. Well that was uncalled for. There was—

The battle. The field. The net. The darkness that swallowed her whole.

Blair’s heartbeat stuttered, and then the organ began to pound like crazy. Drugged. She’d been drugged. Which explained why her muscles throbbed and she felt weak as a newborn kitten.

Worse, she’d been taken.

She didn’t dare let her eyes snap open. She had no way of knowing how closely she was being watched. She quickly got her breathing under control—the quick rise and fall of her chest would be a dead giveaway that she was no longer unconscious.

Relief abruptly tumbled down the mating bond—a bond now so vivid, so solid, so complete. That masculine feeling of relief told her that Luke had sensed she was awake.

When the hell had their bond become complete? Later. Blair would figure that out later.

She sent a “pulse” of reassurance along the bond, even knowing he would sense the anger and anxiety that vied for supremacy inside her and battered at what little mental composure she had.

Blair breathed through her inner struggle, determined to somehow remain calm, much like her female was doing—a female who’d either withdrawn to give Blair control or had been suppressed by whatever drug she’d been given, because she’d evidently shifted back into her human form.

She kept her eyes closed as she stretched out her senses. She was in a vehicle of some sort—that much was for sure. She didn’t think she was in a trunk. A trunk was carpeted, and her body was not pressed against anything remotely soft right now. Beneath the country music playing low was the sound of steady breathing.

The scents of oil, dirt, and metal surrounded her, but there was another scent. A smell that clung to the material that had been draped over her. A scentthat belonged to someone all too familiar. And with that, Blair knew who’d taken her.

Her churning stomach bottomed out, and a sense of betrayal slapped her so hard she almost cursed aloud. Her female growled, equally stung and getting more pissed with each moment that passed. Their combined anger stomped out the flames of fear in their bellies. All they wanted was to ream his ass.

Not that Blair was in any condition to do that just yet. Her head still pounded, her muscles still ached, and she still felt ridiculously weak. If Luke hadn’t shoved energy down their bond, she probably would have remained out cold for a while longer.

Not wanting to alert her captor to the fact that she was conscious, Blair only opened her eyes a little. Dark, blurry images swam in front of her vision. She double-blinked, struggling to bring everything into focus. Bars. Thin, metal bars were only a few inches in front of her.

Using her peripheral vision, she was able to catch a glimpse of the space above her while still lying on her side. More bars. Oh God, she was in a crate. A large crate that was built to hold animals.

Motherfucker.

Although it was dark, her shifter enhanced vision allowed her to see just fine. Her mode of transport seemed to be a small van. With the exception of a crate, some boxes, and a few rucksacks, it was empty.

Her female rubbed against her, sure that Luke would come for them. Oh, he would. If he had any way of finding them. But Blair had no plans to wait for him or anyone else to save her. She intended to take care of that part herself.

The problem was … she was so weak she felt both light as a feather and heavy as concrete at the same time. More, the son of a bitch who’d taken her wouldn’t have put her in any old crate. He’d have purchased one specifically used to contain shifters. That meant there’d be no sense in trying to kick open the door or have her female chew through the bars. That would achieve one thing only—alert him to the fact that she’d woken.

Damn the bastard for putting her in a crate. He couldn’t have simply cuffed her wrists behind her back or something, could he? She could have freed herself by dislocating her thumbs. Which, of course, he knew.

Her pulse spiked at the sound of a low male curse. She felt the van slow until, eventually, it came to a halt. Shit, had she given herself away?

Keys jangled, and then a door creaked open. It shut with a clang, and she heard footfalls. They weren’t coming closer, though. No, they were fading away.

She froze, listening hard. Seconds of silence ticked by. Her female paced, urging Blair to move, move, move.

Deciding it might not be a bad idea to use the moment of privacy to try escaping, Blair kicked at the crate’s door. Ow. It was like booting a stone wall. Being barefoot made it hurt even more. Still, she gave it another admittedly weak kick, wincing at the ache in her muscles.

A loud curse rang out in the distance, making her heart slam against her ribcage. She tensed once more, hearing thuds and muffled snarls. What the hell?

A muttered oath preceded the snapping of branches, and then a quiet swiftly fell. But the silence was soon broken by the sound of yet more footfalls, and these were heading toward the van. Quickly.

Panic racing through her system, Blair practically attacked her crate, hitting and kicking it with everything in her—and she sadly still didn’t have much in her at all. The whole time, those footfalls came closer and closer, getting louder and louder … and headed to the rear of the van.

The double doors opened wide. Moonlight beamed into the vehicle, slashing through the shadows. A tall figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. But not the one she’d expected to see.

Blair double-blinked. “Finley?”

The female leaped into the van and crossed to the crate. “We’ve got to get you out of this now. I don’t know if I killed him.”

“What? What’s happening? Shit, you’re hurt.” The woman sported puncture wounds, rake marks, and a split lip.

“Back at the field, I saw him dragging you off, but I was too far away to do anything,” she said, her words coming fast as she struggled to open the crate, pain etched into her face. “I roared out a warning, but no one heard me while there was so much damn noise going on. So I followed the van, managed to climb onto the bike rack, and then held on. He stopped because there’s a dead deer in the road and he wanted to move it out of the way.”

Pausing, Finley cursed at her failed attempts to open the door, sliced out her claws, and tried using one to pick the lock. “I pounced on the opportunity to take him out, but he’s one tough mother. We tussled for a bit, ended up wrestling on the ground, and I hit his head hard with a rock. He rolled off the road and down the steep hill, but I don’t know if he’s out cold or dead.” There was a snick, and she smiled. “Finally.”

Blair’s stomach lurched as she rolled onto her front. More, her head spun and the edges of her vision smudged. Cursing inwardly, she nonetheless crawled out of the crate and went to follow the pallas cat out of the van.

“Come on, I’ll drive us out of here,” said Finley.

Something caught Blair’s eye. Crossing to one of the boxes, she pulled out a sweater. “This is mine. All the clothes in here are mine. It’s all old stuff that I bagged up last year for my mom to take to a charity store.”

Pulling out jogging pants and a tee, she threw them at Finley. “They should fit you.” Blair also retrieved a tee and shorts for herself before hopping out of the van, cursing when her knees almost gave out. Dragging on her clothes, she glanced around, seeing nothing but road and woodland. “Do you know where we are?”

“Yes.” Finley winced as she shoved an arm through her sleeve while they made their way to the front of the van. “Got a broken rib for sure. We’re about twenty minutes away from the drop-off—Dammit, no keys. I don’t suppose you know how to hotwire a car, do you?”

“No, but I don’t intend to drive off anyway. Not until I know for certain that he’s a goner.” Blair snatched the cell phone she spotted in the cupholder. “How long will it take the pride to get to us?”

“Ten minutes or less if they floored it.”

Blair’s lips flattened as she realized that the cell required a password to unlock it. She typed “Blair” on a hunch. That didn’t work. Nor did any of the random words she came up with.

Shit.

An idea slipped into her mind. Biting down on her lip, Blair typed in her first name followed by his surname, leaving no space between the two.

The phone unlocked.

Blair grinned. “Yes! We can—”

They both froze as a guttural roar split the air.

Her smile fading, she pushed the phone into Finley’s hand. “Hide in the van and call Luke. Now. Then stay out of sight.”

The enforcer’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look, neither of us are up to taking him down right this second. I’m still weak and woozy from the drug. You’re injured and in pain. We need to give ourselves a little time to physically recover before we act. That means keeping him distracted. I can manage that, but not if his attention isn’t fully on me. As such, I need you to hang back.”

Finley huffed. “Fine. But don’t get killed, or your mate will slay me.”

Predictably, Mitch lost his mind on hearing that his sister had been taken. Luke was in no position to judge—hell, his cat still hadn’t pulled himself together. Nonetheless, Luke heard himself clip, “I need you to focus, Mitch. It has to have been her stalker who took her. And I have reason to believe that either Donal or Antoine could be that stalker—I don’t have time to go into the why of it right now, so I need you to trust me on this. More, I need you to tell me where they are.”

Seconds of silence ticked by. “Donal or Antoine?”

“Mitch.”

The male cursed.“All right. Fine. Give me five minutes, I’ll call you back.”

“Good. And Mitch? Say nothing to your pack about this. Any who don’t believe that your pack mates are involved might warn Donal and Antoine that they’re suspected to have taken her. If one of them is our culprit, they might panic. I don’t want our boy running scared—especially since he might kill her so that she won’t slow him down.”

Luke rang off, stilling as his mate’s emotions danced along their bond. Relief gripped his gut, though he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. “She’s awake. I feel her. She’s shaken, but more than anything she’s pissed.”

“That’s better than terrified,” said Aspen.

“Providing she doesn’t aggravate her kidnapper too much,” mused Havana.

Luke nodded, afraid his mate would do exactly that.

“According to the enforcers who are watching Gabriel, he’s at a bar having drinks with people from work,” Tate revealed. “They can’t see him from where they’re parked outside the building, so they’re going to head inside the bar and search for him.”

Luke ground his teeth, not much liking that all they could do for the moment was wait for others to return their calls.

“Whoever he is … he’ll do one of two things—head off to the hills with her, or stash her somewhere local because he intends to go on about his normal life while also keeping her captive,” said Camden. “Right?”

“Right,” Tate agreed.

“He’ll do the second,” Luke stated. “He won’t feel the need to go on the run, because he doesn’t believe that he’s doing anything wrong. He has this neurotic notion that he and Blair are meant to be; that they will start a life together. But he’s not so crazy that he doesn’t know on some level that he’s not who she wants.” He’d have otherwise handled several things differently.

Vinnie nodded. “Another reason I can’t envision him fleeing is that he’ll know she’d try to escape; that she wouldn’t be a cooperative captive. And that’s not an ideal scenario for a man on the run—and he would be on the run, because both our pride and the Sylvan Pack would hunt him down.”

“I don’t think that he’ll take her to a random location,” said Bailey.

“No, he’ll have chosen it in advance,” Luke agreed. “Possibly even prepared it for her arrival. It’ll be isolated, but not too far from his home because he’ll want to always be close to her. Plus, he’d be unable to both spend plenty of time with her and live his life as normal if he needed to go off on long drives all the time.”

Alex twisted his mouth. “Neither Gabriel’s address nor Sylvan territory are all that far from here, so his hidey hole shouldn’t be too far away either.”

Luke’s phone chimed. He answered it fast, “Yeah?”

“Neither Donal nor Antoine are on pack territory right now,” began Mitch, “and no one has any clue where they are. Now, can you please tell me why they’re suspects.”

Luke quickly brought him up to speed, giving him the bare facts. “Before you claim that none of that makes them guilty, note that I’m aware of that. It’s why I haven’t beaten the holy hell out of either of them.”

Mitch swore. “I had no clue Antoine harassed women in the past. If I had—”

“You’d have said something, I know.” Luke’s head whipped to the side on hearing his brother’s phone ring. “I have to go, Mitch. I’ll call you back when I have news to share. You do the same.” He hung up and, unable to overhear the other side of Tate’s phone conversation, waited until his brother ended it before asking, “Well? I’m guessing one of the enforcers tailing Gabriel called you again.”

“They did,” confirmed Tate, his face hard. “He’s in the wind.”

Luke hissed, clenching his fists so tight it was a wonder a tendon or two didn’t snap. “So we have nothing. No idea which of them is our guy.”

“For now,” said Havana.

Luke scrubbed a hand down his face. “I need to get out of here. I need to go look for her.”

Tate put a hand on his shoulder to stay him. “It’s unlikely that you’re going to stumble upon her—”

“You think I don’t know that?” Luke burst out. “I can’t stay here like this and do nothing while she’s out there with whoever the fuck believes that she’s his. I can’t.” Every muscle in Luke’s body fairly quivered with the urge to do something.

“I get it, I do, but—” Tate cut off as the cell in Luke’s hand once more began to ring.

Luke frowned at the screen. “I don’t recognize the number.” He answered, “Hello?”

“Luke, it’s Finley. Listen to me. You need to head straight toward the old junkyard near the docks. I saw your mate get taken. I followed her. We’re on that road. I managed to get her out of the van, but we’re both weak and in no condition to run. Her kidnapper … he’s hurt but heading our way, and she’s got her heart set on beating his ass to a pulp. Hurry.” The line went dead.

For a moment, Luke didn’t move, struggling to process her words. Then he leaped into action, jumping into an SUV, saying, “I know where Blair is. We need to move now.”