A further scan of the room showed no sign of Eve and, given that her abductor was incapacitated, Rafe abandoned stealth for speed. Gripping the aged window frame, he wrenched it open and climbed inside.
“Eve!” He called her name, stepping over the now snoring man. “Eve? Are you here?” There was no answer, but a sound from the window had him spinning around, moving into a defensive crouch. When he saw Damien entering through the opening, he relaxed.
“I’ll check the house.” Without waiting for Rafe to agree, Damien left the bedroom.
Rafe fingered the ropes and zip ties that lay on the bed, rage growing inside him. Faint stains of red showed against the white plastic and minute drops of blood showed on the bedding. It was Eve’s. Once he found her, he was going to make Grant pay for every scratch and bruise she’d endured at the bastard’s hands.
Crouching down, he grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him roughly, his voice so gruff it almost hurt his throat. “Where is she? What did you do with Eve?”
Grant mumbled indistinctly, his head lolling from side to side, but he continued to sleep. After trying once more with no success, Rafe snorted in disgust and let the man drop onto the floor. Getting to his feet, he wiped his hands on his pants not wanting any reminders of the filthy scumbag on his skin.
“The bastard must be a junkie as well as a pervert.” Damien commented as he returned. “He has a stash of drugs in his bedroom. No sign of Eve, though. I checked everywhere—the closets, the crawl space under the porch—nothing. It’s a small house, not many places he could hide her.”
“Damn.” Rafe prodded the man with his toe, anger and frustration eating away at him.
“Look at this.” Damien was picking up a collection of newspaper clippings scattered on the floor. He handed one to Rafe while skimming the contents of the others. “Seems Grant’s made a habit of abducting women.”
“And Eve was his next intended victim.” Rafe crumpled the paper in his hand. “Where the hell is she?”
“Check this out.” Damien was sniffing a can of cola and passed it over. “Drugged. Maybe Eve somehow managed to slip some to the scumbag.”
Pride swelled inside Rafe at her resourcefulness. “So she drugged him, somehow managed to get out of the restraints—”
Damien interrupted with a short laugh. “The little minx used a paperclip as a shim.” He held up the twisted bit of metal as evidence.
Rafe chuckled softly, a hint of relief beginning to grow inside him. “So all we have to do is find her. The car’s still in the yard so she’s travelling by foot which means she won’t have gone very far.”
“I’ll track her down.” Damien began to move towards the window, but Rafe grabbed his arm.
“I’ll do it.”
“I’m the better tracker.”
For a minute they stood glaring at each other, both with narrowed eyes and jutted chins.
Rafe exhaled noisily. “Fine. We’ll both go.” Damien had a point, but he’d be damned if he was going to let the other man play the hero. Eve was Fae like him, and she was his!
Damien nodded. “I’ll tie up the bastard and call Reno. Then we’ll start searching.”
“We seem to be making a habit of working together lately,” Rafe commented, moving to examine the items on the top of the dresser beside the window.
“Yeah. Go figure.”
They exchanged glances, and a wry grin tugged at the corner of Rafe’s mouth. While they might not exactly like each other, no one could deny they worked well together. It made him feel slightly guilty about what he was about to do, but not enough to change his mind.
As Damien expertly tied the man’s hands and legs, Rafe shifted forms and leapt out the window. The sound of Damien swearing followed him, but he didn’t stop. He needed to find Eve, and he needed to do it now. The partial bridge he’d formed with her was tugging at the edges of his mind. She was terrified, and her wall was slipping, letting hints of her emotions free. He could sense the panic swelling within her, the pain that was throbbing through her body. Nothing was going to keep him from her. Nothing.
Chapter 47
Eve swatted the tree branches that tugged at her hair, swearing once or twice as she stumbled over exposed tree roots. The soles of her feet were cut and bruised and her arm vigorously protested the many times she’d been forced to use it to keep herself from falling.
About the only good thing about being in the woods was that so far no one seemed to be following her. Whether it had really been Gordie or not she had no idea, but the possibility had been enough to send her into a headlong flight. Now she was thoroughly lost, tired, and cold with absolutely no idea what to do about the situation she found herself in.
For possibly the hundredth time, she stared at the setting sun. It was her only guide, the only thing that let her know she was heading west rather than wandering in aimless circles. Unfortunately, it was dropping quickly in the sky, and a mist was forming over the land as the night air met the warmer ground. Once darkness fell she’d have no idea which way to go.
She’d tried tuning into the earth—Rafe had told her about the affinity Fae supposedly had with nature—but the comforting hum was missing. There was no murmuring from the trees, no sense of energy being offered to her; strange how she’d become so used to the sensation.
Now, she just felt alone and abandoned, as if creation had even turned its back on her. Perhaps it was because she was so emotionally distraught. Maybe it was plugging up her receptors or something. Whatever the case, the thought of spending the night alone in the woods, with the temperatures hovering around the freezing mark, had her throat tightening with unshed tears. She refused to cry, but that didn’t mean the feeling wasn’t there. It was already cold, and she couldn’t imagine how she’d survive in just a t-shirt. What she needed was some form of shelter, a convenient cabin or even a cave, but nothing appeared to be in the offing.
She snuffled and wiped her nose on the hem of the t-shirt, shivers beginning to wrack her body. Her legs were covered with scratches from the bushes she’d stumbled into, and despite the encroaching darkness, she could see the smears of blood and spatters of mud that covered her. If she ever made her way out of this the first thing she was going to do was to take a hot bath. The warm water would sting in the cuts, but she’d welcome the small pain as a sign that she’d survived this ordeal.
Survive.
That’s what she had to do but how?
Not knowing what else to do, Eve kept walking. Step after step after step. Occasionally a stone would cause her to wince in pain, but mostly her feet were too cold and numb to notice anymore. Mist floated about her casting the trees into ghostly shapes and creating an eerie atmosphere that did nothing to improve the downward spiral of her spirits. She wrapped her arms around herself hoping to hold in her body heat, but it wasn’t enough to stave off the chilly dampness that was creeping into every inch of her body.
She was so tired. Pausing to lean against a tree, she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Not allowed, buddy, she told the errant drop. For a minute she closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was someplace else. Somewhere warm and comforting. An image of Rafe’s home sprang to mind. The fireplace would be crackling merrily, and the two of them would lounge on the rug in front of it. He’d wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. She’d trace her finger over his mouth and then stretch to brush her lips over his. Their eyes would meet, and she’d allow her mental wall to relax. A bridge would form with practised ease between their minds, and she’d know how he felt, sense his love and concern. It would fill her with warmth, and she’d push her own feelings towards him, wanting to give as well as receive…
A sound intruded on her pleasant reverie. The mere snap of a twig, but in the silence of the woods it echoed like a gun shot. Eve’s eyes flew open, and she looked around, her heart pounding. Was it Gordie? Had he finally come after her? She searched for signs of movement and thought she saw a flicker of something in the distance.
It was indistinct, barely noticeable through the swirling mist, but there was no doubt in her mind as to what it was. Wolves!
Her mouth opened in a silent scream as memories of the creature attacking filled her mind. The weight of it knocking her to the ground, the pain of its teeth piercing her flesh, horrible snarls filling her ears... Was she caught in some horrid dream where one terror faded away only to be replaced by another? Pushing off from the tree, she started to run, her only intent to put as much distance as possible between herself and the terrifying beast.
She ran blindly, stumbling and crashing into trees. Her breathing was harsh, yet the sound of the wolf chasing her was even harsher. It must be near; it was as if she could hear the beast inside her mind. The creature was angry and worried and…
Eve shook her head, pressing a hand to her temple. Somehow the wolf seemed to be inside her head, her mind picking up on its feelings. And Rafe was there; present and yet…not. A mental image came to mind, his face morphing into that of animal. He was the wolf and the wolf was him. Oh God, was she going crazy?
“Eve!” She could hear his voice now, sense him close at hand, but surely that couldn’t be.
She glanced over her shoulder and was totally shocked to see Rafe actually there! She skidded to a halt, stumbling into a tree and then holding onto it to keep herself steady. For a moment indescribable joy filled her only to be twisted into fear when a black wolf appeared behind him.
“Rafe, look out!” Eve screamed the words and moved to lunge forward, her only thought to somehow protect the man she loved. Her foot, numb with cold, caught on a tree root, and her ankle twisted sending her crashing to the ground. As her injured arm took the brunt of the fall, a sharp pain shot up her arm and darkness descended.
Chapter 48
Rafe rushed forward, landing on his knees beside Eve’s prone body. He hovered his hand over her, almost afraid to touch her. She was covered in dirt and scratches, bits of leaves stuck in her hair, smears of blood stark against her pale skin. Two tear tracks showed on her cheeks, and his heart broke as he recalled the terror he’d felt emanating from her. Gently, he reached out and brushed strands of fair hair from her face. She was so pale and cold, her lips almost blue, dark shadows under her eyes.
He wanted to gather her to him, to cradle her body and infuse her with his warmth. Instead, he donned his professional mask and proceeded to examine her with clinical detachment. A bracelet of bruises could be seen around her one wrist and ankle. Her feet were cold and badly cut. Neither leg was injured beyond surface scratches, but one arm definitely was. Blood had dried where it had seeped through the gauze, and a bandage bound her wrist. Her finger tips were swollen where they peeked out beyond the elasticized material, but the colouring was good; unwrapping it could wait until he was somewhere with better lighting.
“How is she?” Damien crouched down beside him, lines of concern etched on his face.
“All things considered, I think she’s okay.” Rafe eased his arms under her. “I’m going to carry her. You head back and get the truck, meet me halfway.”
Damien nodded but didn’t immediately go. Instead he stared down at Eve, a myriad of emotions passing over his face. Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed his knuckles over her cheek then let his hand drop to his side. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard.
Rafe fought not to growl possessively and pull Eve away from Damien’s touch. The man was obviously going through his own personal hell. When Damien opened his eyes, Rafe stood, adjusting Eve in his arms. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Just memories. Fucking bad memories.” Damien slowly got to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. A heavy sigh escaped him and then, after a moment, the air shimmered, and a black wolf stood in his place. Without a word, the animal ran off disappearing among the thick trees.
Rafe watched him leave wondering what the future would hold for the man. There were more demons in the man’s life than he cared to contemplate. And whatever the man had been up to these past months was causing some major battles with the animal inside. There was still a hesitation when Damien had wanted to shift, a sign his wolf continued to fight him. Did Damien even realize how close he was to the edge of losing complete control?
Eve murmured in his arms, and Rafe pushed Damien’s problems to the side. Damien wasn’t his concern right now. Eve was. With sure strides, he made his way towards the roadway. The sooner he had her someplace warm where her wounds could be properly tended, the better.
An hour later, Rafe watched Eve resting in his bed. With Brandi’s help, he’d washed and dressed her in one of his shirts then applied antiseptic and bandages. He didn’t think her wrist was broken, but it would have to be x-rayed in the morning. And the bites on her arm, while deep, showed no signs of infection. All things considered she was lucky. Whether she’d feel that way once she woke up would be another story.
A story. He rubbed his eyes, feeling wearier than he had in ages. They’d have to create some plausible story to tell Eve and the local authorities. Constable Duffy would be looking for a report on the rogue wolf that had supposedly been in the area. Eve would wonder why she’d seen three wolves, not just one. And what if she asked about the hiker? Good thing Reno’s wife, Brandi, was a Disaster Control officer; this had the potential of blowing up in their faces.
“Rafe, can you come out here?” Reno cracked the door open and peered inside.
“Sure.” He squeezed Eve’s hand and quietly left the room.
His living room had become some sort of command centre. Captain Fielding was presiding over the coffee table, a laptop open in front of him and a cellphone pressed to his ear as he barked out orders; the man had arrived sometime during the day though Rafe couldn’t really say when. Brandi stood in another corner, also talking on the phone, and nibbling on a pencil in between jotting down notes on a small pad of paper. Reno was waiting for him near the kitchen and Damien… Well, he was staring out the window with a distant expression on his face.
The professional side of him wanted to talk to the rogue, but Reno let out a low impatient growl obviously not willing to wait much longer.
“Still the epitome of grace and good manners,” Rafe gently gibed as Reno jerked his head at him and then strode towards the kitchen.
“Glad you noticed.” Reno gave an amused huff before getting down to business. “Can you give the bastards you and Damien trussed up another dose of tranquillizers? It would make transporting them easier.”
Rafe raised a brow. He was already treading on ethically thin ice, administering meds for non-medical reasons. On the other hand, he thought of how they’d planned to cold bloodedly murder Eve simply because she was Fae… Heading to a locked cupboard, he took out several vials of tranquillizer and handed them over. “Here.”
Reno nodded. “Good. I was hoping you weren’t going to go all prissy on me.”
If the comment had come from anyone else, Rafe would have grabbed their collar and shown them exactly how un-prissy he was. But Reno was just…well…Reno. “Did you find out anything more about Grant?”
“Yeah. Turns out, he’s in our data base—or actually the Fae data base.”
“Fae?” Rafe stiffened.
“Yep. There’ve been complaints registered against him. Brandi has the whole file, but suffice to say, he’s known to be unstable. Apparently no one knew exactly how unstable though.”
“And the Fae aren’t organized enough to have protocols in place for dealing with him.” Rafe shook his head. “All his victims were Fae, weren’t they?”
“Yeah. I’m afraid so.”
“Most likely they refused to form a mental bridge with him, and he killed them because of it.” Rafe walked over to the counter and stared out the window into the darkness. Forcing someone to form a bridge was akin to rape in the Fae world. He ground his teeth and squeezed his hands into fists imagining he had Grant’s neck within his grasp. “Your captain was right not bringing him here. I’m not sure if I could control myself aro
und him.”
Reno grunted in agreement.
“Damien said there was an Anti-Fae group at work, orchestrating the murders of Fae. Any chance that was overstated? That it was actually Grant all along?”
“No. The Anti-Fae have definitely been active. Grant was an unexpected twist that strangely enough led us to be in the right place at the right time.”
“How so?” Rafe turned to face Reno, resting his hip on the edge of the counter.
“The Anti-fae killings followed no pattern that we could see, but Grant’s moved across the country. Not realizing it, we used his movements to help us predict where the next murder might take place. By some good fortune Eve had two sets of people interested in her.”
“You have a twisted definition of good fortune, Smith.”
Reno shrugged. “In the end, it saved her life.”
“Yeah.” Rafe pushed to his feet and began to head towards the door, intent on returning to Eve. “If there’s nothing else…”
“Actually… There is.” Reno sounded hesitant, and that was unusual enough to cause Rafe to turn and study him carefully.
“Yes?”
“It’s about Damien.”
Rafe shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not taking on any new clients. My last case went sour and—”
“I know. You don’t trust your instincts or your empathic links, or whatever the hell you call it.” Reno rolled his eyes. “That’s a bunch of crap, but you’ll figure it out on your own eventually. Besides, I doubt Damien would agree to go to your clinic anyway.”
“Then what?”
Reno sighed and rubbed his neck, uncertainty showing in his furrowed brow. “He’s changed. I know his mate died, that’s he’s been a near rogue, but there’s something else. He’s hiding something.”