Stolen and Forgiven Page 21

Unimpressed by his logic, the Director took a slow, thorough survey of the office. Almost as if he were searching for something.

  “That’s why you took blood and swabs?”

  Frank resisted the urge to glance toward the refrigerator. There was no way Markham could know where he’d hidden the specimens. Not unless the bastard could read minds.

  “They’re a part of my exam,” he said with a small shrug. “I needed to make sure she wasn’t damaged by the drugs that were used to tranq her.”

  The pale gaze slowly returned to Frank, the heavy features impossible to read.

  “No longer.”

  Frank stilled, sensing that the Director was referring to more than a bit of blood and saliva.

  “Excuse me?”

  Markham planted his hands on his hips in a familiar gesture that emphasized the bulge of his muscles and the gun at his hip.

  “I want you to hand over any specimens you’ve taken, as well as your keys, and leave the building.”

  Frank sucked in a shocked breath. “I don’t understand.”

  “Then I’ll make it clear.” Markham pointed a thick finger in his face. “You’re fired.”

  Was the man demented? He was a brilliant researcher. A genius. In comparison, the rest of the so-called scientists that the SAU hired were talentless hacks.

  Only a complete idiot would fire him.

  Or a man so insecure in his position of leadership that he couldn’t bear to have anyone in his employ that might undermine his authority.

  “But-”

  Frank bit off his protest as the Director muttered a low curse and reached into his pocket to pull out his cellphone. He pressed it to his ear.

  “What?” His blunt features clenched with sudden fury, his pale eyes glittering in the overhead light. “Shit. Put the building on lockdown, I’m on my way.” Struggling to regain his stoic composure, the Director shoved the phone back in his pocket and glared at Frank. “You will stay until the lockdown is over, then I want your ass off my property.”

  Frank felt a genuine stab of fear. Clearly something bad had happened.

  Was the shifter out of her cell?

  Or worse, had her Pack managed to follow her to the supposedly secret headquarters?

  Good lord. Even now, the place could be crawling with the beasts.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Ignoring Frank’s question as was typical, Markham headed across the office.

  “Don’t leave this office until I return,” he warned Frank before he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Bastard,” Frank breathed, not hesitating to rush to the refrigerator to pull out the various specimens he had hidden in a cooler.

  Then, returning to his desk, he unlocked the bottom drawer to pull out the private files that detailed the research he’d done over the past three years. He couldn’t take all of them. Not without a damned moving truck. But he could take those that had his most promising results.

  Tucking them in his briefcase, he unlocked yet another drawer, pulling out a small pistol. He was a scientist, not a soldier, but he could pull a trigger.

  And there was no way he was going to be trapped in this office without knowing what the hell was going on.

  Besides, the Director had made it clear it was time for them to cut ties.

  It was the perfect opportunity for him to move on to bigger and better things.

  As long as he got out of the building alive.

  ****

  Soren inched his way along the ventilation shaft that ran the length of the ceiling.

  His first thought had been to charge into the basement and rescue Cora before the guards could stop him. Unfortunately, one glimpse into the long room where Cora was being held revealed a guard standing directly in front of her cell.

  He could take the guard, but there was no way to approach without being seen.

  And then, he’d caught sight of the silver ductwork that crisscrossed the open beams. It was his only hope of sneaking up on the guard before he could alert others.

  Moving with painful slowness to ensure that the thin metal didn’t pop or creak beneath his weight, Soren finally reached the end of the room. His jaws hurt from clenching his teeth, and his nose was clogged with dust, but his heart was filled with hope.

  Already, he caught the rich scent of Cora.

  It helped to ease the animal inside of him that was nearly feral with the need to destroy the enemies who’d stolen his mate.

  Coming to a halt, he stretched out on his stomach and peered through the vent. He froze. Shit. The last thing he’d expected was for the guard to glance up.

  He hadn’t made a sound. Had he?

  And no human was sensitive enough to smell his approach.

  So what the fuck was the guy looking at?

  Releasing his claws, he prepared to slice through the metal and drop down on top of the man. But he was abruptly halted as he caught the scent of another guard rapidly approaching.

  Shit.

  He would have to wait.

  “Sinclair,” a male voice snapped.

  The guard took a step forward, his face twisted into a scowl.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  A low growl rumbled in Soren’s chest as a man moved to stand directly in front of the guard. He didn’t recognize the large, barrel-chested man with the buzzed head, but his scent was familiar.

  The bastard had been in the compound where Cora had been taken.

  His wolf struggled to break free as Soren fiercely forced himself to cling to sanity. He didn’t know how many other guards might be nearby. Getting shot wasn’t going to help Cora.

  “An intruder has breached our defenses,” the older man told the guard.

  The guard grimaced, his face twisting with disgust. “Shifter?”

  “Who else would break in? The fucking Easter Bunny?”

  The guard’s hands fisted at the mocking reprimand, but he was obviously too smart to share his annoyance.

  “Where is the animal?”

  The larger man shook his head, his beefy features hard with anger.

  “He managed to destroy the locks before he headed down here.”

  Well, at least he’d managed to do one thing right.

  Soren had known the switches unlocked the doors, but he hadn’t been certain that smashing the box would actually keep them disabled.

  Which would make it easier to get out. Just as soon as he could get his hands on Cora.

  “I haven’t seen him,” the first guard assured his companion.

  “No one has.” The leader nodded his head toward the distant door. “I want you to join Clark in searching the building. He may have doubled back in an effort to throw us off his trail.”

  The guard hesitated as if he were caught off guard by the order.

  “What about the cat?” he said. “This might be a diversion to rescue her.”

  “I’ll stand guard.”

  “But-”

  “That wasn’t a suggestion,” the older man snapped, moving forward until he was nose to nose with the guard. “Go.”

  Muttering beneath his breath, the guard headed across the long room and out the door. Soren once again prepared to attack, but instead of taking Sinclair’s place in front of the cell, the man moved to stand in the center of the room.

  Dammit.

  There was no way to reach him now. Soren would just have to take the risk.

  Using his razor sharp claws, he ripped through the metal duct, making a hole large enough to drop through. Instinctively, he crouched low as his feet hit the hard ground.

  That was the only thing that saved him from a nasty injury as two bullets flew over his head.

  Rising to his feet, he remained poised to dodge as the man kept the pistol pointed in his direction.

  “Stay where you are and put your hands in the air,” the man commanded, reaching to grab the walkie-talkie that was clipped to his belt. “Sinclair, I’ve got him in
the basement.”

  Soren thought he heard Cora call his name, but his concentration was focused on the man who was aiming the pistol at his heart.

  “Do you think you can kill me before I rip out your throat?” he asked, taking a small step forward.

  He would have only minutes before the other guard returned.

  The older man pasted a sneer on his face, although it didn’t entirely disguise his fear.

  “Don’t be an idiot. There’s no way you can get out of here alive.”

  Soren prowled forward. “You always underestimate us. That’s what is eventually going to be the downfall of the SAU,” he taunted.

  The man stumbled back, clearly uncertain whether he could shoot before Soren could tear off his head.

  “I have guards surrounding the building…”

  His words broke off in a small shriek as Soren abruptly shifted into his wolf and lunged forward.

  There was the deafening sound of a gun being fired, followed by sharp pain as a bullet grazed the side of his muzzle and lodged in his shoulder. Soren, however, didn’t hesitate. He could already hear the sound of footsteps clomping down the stairs.

  It was now or never.

  With a last leap, he pounced on the man, his fangs clamping down on his fleshy throat. His prey fell backward, landing flat on the ground with Soren standing on his chest.

  Soren growled in satisfaction as he tasted blood on his tongue. At last. But even as he prepared to rip out the bastard’s throat, he felt a shockingly painful blow to the back of his head.

  With an agonized whimper, he rolled to the side, barely clinging to consciousness as a shadow fell over him.

  Sinclair. Looking down at him with an icy gaze.

  How the hell had he gotten across the room so fast?

  And what had he hit him with?

  It felt as if he’d used an iron fist.

  “Shit, Sinclair,” a new male voice floated through the air. “I had a clean shot.”

  Soren closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious as Sinclair turned toward the approaching guard.

  “Did you want me to wait and see if you could pull the trigger before the bastard killed our fearless leader, Clark?” Sinclair demanded.

  On cue, the older man gave a pained cough. “Shut up, both of you,” he snapped. “And help me up.”

  Soren felt a stab of intense fury.

  He’d been shot, the back of his skull split open, and captured before he could save Cora.

  The least he could have done was kill one of the bastards.

  “Do you want me to put a bullet in his head?” the male that Soren assumed was Clark asked with obvious anticipation.

  “Not yet, you idiot,” the leader muttered, his voice a rough rasp, as if Soren had done at least some damage. “Markham might be able to use him.”

  “He’s a big boy.” Soren felt Sinclair give his haunch a rough nudge with the toe of his boot. “We can always use him in the fights.”

  Fights? Soren forced himself to remain limp, his eyes closed.

  Was that where those missing shifters went? Were the SAU using their authority over his people to use them as some sort of modern-day Gladiators?

  “Christ, Sinclair,” the older man muttered. “Open the door to the cell.”

  Soren felt pain jolt through him as the leader grabbed him by one leg and roughly yanked him across the floor. He battled back a growl of agony, not only from the wound on the back of his head, but the bullet that remained lodged in his shoulder.

  Until his body managed to work the projectile out of his flesh, he wouldn’t be able to heal.

  Thankfully, his fur protected his skin as he was dragged over the floor and into the cell. Instantly, he was surrounded by Cora’s enticing scent as he sensed her rush forward.

  “Stand back, bitch,” the guard warned.

  “What have you done to him?” Cora demanded.

  There was the sound of a low grunt as if Cora had actually run into the man.

  “Dammit,” the guard snapped. “I told you to get back.”

  On the verge of opening his eyes and launching himself at the bastard, Soren was halted when Cora abruptly kneeled at his side, her hand stroking over his head in a soothing motion.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured softly.

  “Shit.” Leaving the cell, the guard slammed the door shut. “Sinclair, keep watch at the top of the stairs,” he snapped, his voice harsh as he tried to pretend that he wasn’t unnerved by his up-close and personal encounter with a wolf. “We can’t be sure he was alone. Clark, stand guard here. Anyone shows up…shoot them.”

  Chapter 9

  Cora waited until she heard the two men leave the basement before she leaned down to bury her face in Soren’s fur.

  “Oh God, Soren,” she choked out, shaking with fear.

  She’d been terrified when she’d realized that he was in the basement. He had to know that he was risking his life. And then the idiot had charged the guard, getting shot and then hit so hard that she’d been able to hear his skull crack from the impact.

  God. She was going to have nightmares for years at the sight of him lying on the floor, so still she thought he was dead.

  A deep shiver raced through the wolf before he released a pained groan and shifted back into his human form. With a burst of magic, the fur was replaced by smooth, naked skin and long, muscular limbs that sprawled over the hard floor.

  Cora gave a choked cry as she saw the raw wound that continued to seep blood just above his collarbone.

  It was even worse than she’d feared.

  “Ssh, princess,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush away the tears that ran down her cheeks. “It’s okay.”

  She shook her head. It wasn’t okay. Not when he was injured and trapped in this damned cell with her.

  “How badly are you hurt?” she asked.

  “I’ll heal.” He grimaced. “Bastards.”

  Glancing toward the cell door, she could catch sight of the guard who restlessly paced the basement. His human senses weren’t acute enough to overhear their conversation, but still, she lowered her voice.

  “How did you find me?” she demanded, her fingers running through his tousled hair, careful to avoid the wound on the back of his head.

  His lips twitched, his fingers continuing to stroke her cheek.

  “There’s nowhere in the world I wouldn’t be able to track you down, princess,” he assured her. “You belong to me.”

  The tightness that made it nearly impossible to breathe slowly eased as she studied his fiercely beautiful face. He was injured, but he was alive.

  Right now, that was enough.

  “So arrogant,” she teased.

  “Determined,” he corrected.

  She gave a shake of her head, her expression chiding. “And foolish. You could have been killed.”

  He gave a wry smile, glancing around the cramped cell. “I was trying to impress you with my daring rescue,” he told her. “The plan was to rush in, toss you over my shoulder, and take off before the guards realized I was even here. Clearly it didn’t work out.”

  She reached for the blanket that she’d left on the cot, gently folding it over his naked body. As if he needed to impress her.

  The mere thought was ridiculous.

  “Once we’re out of here, I’m going to kick your ass for taking such a risk,” she warned.

  Cognac eyes darkened as his fingers drifted down to outline her lips.

  “Once we’re out of here, I’m taking you to my bed. You can do whatever you want to my ass,” he promised.

  She trembled, easily able to remember holding on to his perfect butt as he surged deep inside of her. Her hand moved to the side of his throat, moving over the collar that she hated before following the line of his shoulder.

  “Anything I want?”

  “Absolutely.” His gaze slid over her face before lowering to the hideous orange jumpsuit. Instantly, his expression hardened. “Did they hurt
you?”

  “No.”

  His eyes narrowed as if sensing she wasn’t telling him the full truth.

  “I could smell your blood where the bastards attacked you.”

  “They shot me with a dart, and I fell from the tree, but that’s it,” she said. “I promise.”

  He held her gaze, searching for the truth before giving a slow nod and allowing his muscles to relax.

  “Have they told you why they kidnapped you?”

  Her stomach clenched. Just for a few moments, her relief that Soren was alive had driven out her terror for her father. Now it returned with a vengeance.

  “They want the Alpha of Golden Pack,” she said between clenched teeth.

  He nodded, as if he’d already suspected why she’d been taken.

  “Why not just grab him?”

  She glared toward the door, her cat hissing with fury at the SAU’s disgusting lack of morals.

  And they called her an animal.

  Jerks.

  “Because they intend to force him to create shifters. Something he would have refused to do without them threatening to chop me into little pieces.”

  “Those sons of bitches.” He struggled to sit up. “I’m going to kill them.”

  “Easy.” She allowed her fingers to skim down his arm, needing to keep him calm. Until his body managed to rid itself of the bullet, he couldn’t fully heal.

  The last thing he needed was to become agitated and worsen his injuries.

  Perhaps realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to do anything until he’d recovered his strength, Soren sank back onto the floor with a grimace.

  “Have they contacted your father?”

  “Yes. They forced me to call him.” She sat back on her heels, futilely trying to disguise her seething frustration. “They’re supposed to meet at the Flatirons.”

  “When?”

  “Midnight.”

  Cognac eyes darkened with a grim determination. “Shit. We have to get out of here.”

  They did. They had less than an hour to contact her father before he was forced to choose between his daughter and giving into the demands of the SAU.

  “We will.” Her gaze moved to the bullet wound that continued to seep blood. “As soon as you’re healed.”