Wild Wolf Claiming Page 5

  “I know this club owner seems like the logical explanation, but it’s got nothing to do with him, Skye. He’s not a part of it.”

  “But nothing else makes sense!” she argued, smacking the wheel again.

  “I get that.” He gave a frustrated sigh, knowing damn well that they couldn’t get into this while she was driving. “Just...give me a little time. Please.”

  She chewed on that gorgeous lower lip again, then muttered something under her breath that he couldn’t quite make out. “We’re here,” she said a moment later, turning into the parking lot of one of the most run-down apartment complexes he’d ever seen. What. The. Hell? He couldn’t believe this was where his girl had been living. How was that even possible?

  Jesus, there were so many things wrong with the place, he didn’t even know where to start. For one, there didn’t seem to be a single light anywhere, though there were plenty of liquor bottles scattered across the asphalt and snow-covered patches of dead grass. And there seemed to be more broken windows than whole ones, many of them either covered with pieces of cardboard or doctored with silver strips of duct tape.

  Then there was the group of men huddled around a flame-filled trashcan at the far end of the parking lot. They looked like a rough group, and though he was the last one to pass judgment based on a person’s appearance, Elliot still didn’t like the idea of Skye and her friend walking past those men at night, with no one there to protect them. Didn’t mean he thought she was weak or naive or in any way less capable than a man. This was an issue of numbers, and he knew firsthand how twisted a pack mentality could become under the wrong influences.

  Hell, he lived with the internal scars from that very thing every goddamn day of his life.

  She drove around the back of the complex, and pulled into a parking space that was only three down from Max’s truck. Elliot did a quick visual sweep of the area, but didn’t see his partner. Then he turned his head toward Skye, who was turning off the engine.

  “How long have you been living here?” He winced at the guttural sound of his voice, noticing how she flinched, but there was no masking the way he felt at the moment. His protective instincts were in full Lycan mode, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing her over his shoulder and getting her the hell out of there.

  “Just over a year.” She had an embarrassed expression on her face as she turned to look at him. “The last place was even worse, if you can believe it.”

  “Skye,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice calm, though he was seething inside at the thought of his mate living in this dump. And how in the hell did she give so much comfort and happiness to the people at the diner when she had this to come home to every night? “Honey, this isn’t a safe place.”

  Her chest lifted, heavy breasts pressing tight against her pink uniform as she drew in a shaky breath, then slowly let it out. “I know, but it wasn’t this bad when we moved in. Then, three months ago, the owners went bankrupt, and it’s all pretty much fallen apart. But they won’t allow us to break our lease, so we’re stuck here for another two months.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “I know,” she said again, sounding defeated, and he knew this was a situation neither her nor Vivian wanted to be in. “But I always have a can of pepper spray in my purse, and I pay attention to my surroundings. Viv and I know how to be careful.”

  Fuck, he hated this. Hated knowing she walked around in fear, always looking over her shoulder. Where the hell was her family? Why wasn’t someone helping them? Where in God’s name were their dads? Uncles? Cousins? Weren’t there any males in their lives looking out for them?

  And, yeah, he knew that if one of the women back at the Alley ever heard him say something like that out loud, he’d get ripped for it. But from the age of seventeen, Mason and the others had ingrained in him what it meant to be a man—and first and foremost, being a man meant protecting a woman when she needed it.

  They climbed out, and the moment they reached the front of her car, Max stepped out of the shadows near the apartments, looking more furious than Elliot had ever seen him. There was a hard, aggressive energy riding his partner, the lines of his usually easygoing face drawn tight with strain.

  “What happened?” Elliot asked, hoping Max wouldn’t say anything in front of Skye that he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t normally have been a concern, but with as raw as Max looked, there was no telling what might come out of his mouth.

  “I completely fucked up, that’s what happened.”

  Elliot gave him a sharp what-the-hell look, and Max sighed, shoving both hands back through his short, black curls. “I...” He lowered his arms, and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. “It’s bad news, man.” He took a shaky breath, then slowly let it out. “I’m afraid it’s the worst.”

  Shit, he thought, praying that Max was wrong.

  “What’s happened?” Skye suddenly cried, fighting against Elliot’s hold when he caught her as she tried to rush past him.

  “Skye, just hold on a second. Let me—”

  “Damn it, let me go!” she screamed, tearing away from him. He was right on her heels, but Christ, the chick was fast. He caught the edge of her frayed coat just as she burst through the front door of the downstairs unit that was closest to them, but it was too late. She’d already seen the damage that had been done to the living room. A sofa, tables, bookcase and TV had all been ripped and smashed into pieces, as if a wild animal had gone ballistic in the place.

  And in the far corner, beside the shredded remains of a small chair, were the mangled remnants of their tiny Christmas tree, every ornament smashed, the flickering lights looking somehow ominous as they lay tangled against the backdrop of such pointless, malicious violence.

  “Vivian!” she screamed, her hands in her hair and a terrified expression on her pale face as she spun in a circle in the midst of the destroyed room.

  “She isn’t here,” Max bit out, looking like he wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands as he came in behind them. He locked his glittering blue gaze on Elliot, and gave a frustrated shake of his head. “When we split ways at the diner, I came straight here. But after an hour or so, I headed over to the club where she works and found her there. One of the other girls said Vivian had been asked to work a little later tonight.” Max shot a quick glance at Skye, who was staring at all the broken pieces of furniture like she was in the middle of a nightmare. He worked his jaw a few times, then shoved his hands back through his hair again as he muttered, “So I sat at a table and waited for the right time to talk to her.”

  “What did you say to her?” Skye demanded, suddenly going still and giving his partner a panicked look of accusation.

  “She ran before I got the chance to say a goddamn thing,” he growled, and Elliot shot him a hard glare, silently warning him not to snap at her. Max gave him a dark look that was full of suspicion, then rolled his shoulder and muttered, “The girl I talked to must have told her I was asking about her, because after that she never looked in my direction again. Then she left the floor, and I figured she was taking a break or something. But after a while, I got a bad feeling, so I got up to see what was going on. When I found the girl I’d talked to, she told me that Vivian had bailed on her shift.”

  Aw, shit. Having an idea where this was headed, Elliot asked, “Then what happened?”

  “Then I got in my truck and raced back here as quickly as I could,” Max said, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. “But she was already gone by the time I got here.”

  Elliot drew in a deep breath, trying to glean something from Max’s scent that would tell him what was going on with the guy. Yeah, it would be natural for Max to be upset about screwing up a protection job. But this...this was different. Maybe guilt for not realizing she would run? Or had something happened at the club that Max didn’t want him to know about?

  Before he could ask another question, Max jerked his chin toward the door. “I’ll be outside. I’ve been
trying to pick up a trail that I can follow, but the snow isn’t helping.”

  He knew Max meant a scent trail, but had been careful not to say anything suspicious in front of Skye.

  “Watch your back,” he muttered, worried that the assholes they were dealing with might still be close. And still not even sure what they were dealing with. Yeah, the apartment had that same musky odor that the other abduction sites had had. But did that mean that the bastards had already taken Vivian? Or was she on the run for her life, after managing to evade them? From what Max had told him, and the way his partner was acting, he knew that Vivian was in trouble. He just didn’t know exactly how bad that trouble was.

  “Just don’t let her back in the roommate’s bedroom,” Max added in a low voice as he passed by him, obviously trying to make sure that Skye didn’t overhear the quiet words.

  Elliot tensed in response to the look on Max’s face. “Why?”

  His partner just shook his head again, a muscle pulsing in the hard edge of his jaw. “You’ll know when you fucking see it, man.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Skye said in a hoarse rush, as soon as Max had shut the front door behind him.

  Walking over to her, he murmured, “He’s good people, Skye. I promise. Max is just pissed that Vivian gave him the slip.”

  “She’s...cautious,” she whispered, blinking at the moisture gathering in her eyes. “It would have freaked her out to know he was asking questions about her, instead of just talking to her.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  She suddenly started kicking at the debris on the floor, like she was trying to uncover something, then dropped down on her knees, rummaging through the books and broken bits of furniture with a desperation that had him coming a little closer and crouching down beside her. “What are you doing, honey?”

  “Our phone! I need to find our phone so I can call her.”

  Elliot helped her look, and quickly found the cordless unit under what looked like the torn material of a sofa cushion. She gave him a grateful look as she took the phone from his hand, then quickly punched in the number. Her hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, her big eyes glistening with tears she was barely holding back. “Damn it,” she croaked, shooting him a tortured look. “I don’t think her phone is turned on.”

  “We’ll keep trying,” he said as gently as he could, taking the phone from her and helping her back to her feet. “But we can’t stay here, Skye. I need you to go back to your room with me, and then you need to pack a bag. Okay?”

  But she was in her own little world at the moment, and he didn’t even think she’d heard him.

  “Why would s-someone do this?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end from the tears that had finally started pouring down her face.

  “I don’t know.” Looking around, it broke his goddamn heart to see how hard the two girls had worked to make this place as pretty as they could. Yeah, the outside might have been shit, but they’d put a lot of time and effort, if not money, into making the inside as nice as possible. The walls had been painted a pale gray, and it definitely had that shabby-chic look to it that his friend Sayre seemed to love so much. Cheap tables had been painted with chalkboard paint, and had had what looked like quotes written in a beautiful script across them. He wished that they had the time for him to fix the pieces, fitting them together like a puzzle, so that he could read their messages, curious about what his girl found important enough to make a permanent part of her home.

  But they’d already spent far more time there than was safe.

  “Come on,” he said, reaching out and taking her cold hand. He kept his movements easy and smooth as he led her from the room, not wanting to spook her. “Let’s get that bag packed.”

  Though there were three closed doors in the hallway, it was easy to tell which one was Skye’s by simply searching out her scent. He quickened his pace, opening her door and dragging her into the untouched bedroom, grateful that she couldn’t detect the scent of blood coming from her friend’s room the way he could.

  Elliot hoped like hell that Vivian Jackson was okay—but it was becoming harder to hold on to that hope with each second that ticked by.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” Skye whispered, drawing his gaze as she opened her closet door and pulled down a big backpack from the top shelf. She set the bag on top of a weathered white dresser, then started rummaging through the drawers, throwing in what looked like an assortment of jeans, T-shirts and sweaters.

  Bracing himself against the wall behind him, Elliot kept up a constant lecture in his head. One that basically went along the lines of how he needed to keep his shit together and that even though he was in her bedroom, surrounded by her so-perfect-it-killed-him scent, he needed to suck it up and stay strong. What he couldn’t do was let his hunger get the upper hand on him. Or keep stealing heated glances at the double bed she had pushed into the far corner of the room, imagining what she would look like spread out over the pale gray sheets, her beautiful body completely bare to his burning, greedy stare, while her heavy gaze begged him to touch her...to claim her.

  Time and place, man. Time and place. And this is neither!

  “That’s all for in here,” she said, clutching the bag to her chest as she turned to face him. “I just need to grab a few things from the bathroom, and I’ll be done.”

  Holding her wide-eyed, fear-filled gaze, Elliot pushed off from the wall and slowly crossed the room to her. She blinked up at him as he took the bag from her trembling hands, hooking one of the straps over his shoulder. Then he leaned down, a hitching breath surging past her lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his lips against her smooth, silky skin. “I wish like hell that this wasn’t happening to you.”

  She hiccupped as she reached up and grabbed two fistfuls of his Henley, and he could feel how hard she was trying to be brave. “You’re so strong, Skye, and I know you can handle this. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone.”

  She clutched at him tighter, the sound of her soft voice as she whispered his name making his throat and chest burn with emotion. Knowing he needed to stay sharp and get her out of there, he forced himself to stand straight and reach for one of her small hands again, holding it tight in his. Then he headed for the door, pulling her along behind him, and out into the hallway, relieved that they were almost on their way. But then she suddenly pulled her hand from his grip and lunged for Vivian’s door.

  “Skye, don’t!” he shouted, as she quickly twisted the doorknob. “You don’t want to go in there.”

  “I have to, Elliot.” She turned her head to the side, a shattered but determined expression on her face as she glanced up at him. “Please don’t try to stop me.”

  He cursed under his breath, but damn it, this was her apartment. As badly as he wanted to protect her, he didn’t have any right to tell her what to do. Not when it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. And going into the room wasn’t something that could kill her. It was just going to cause her a shitload of pain, and he hated it.

  Then she opened Vivian’s door, and the most unholy scream he’d ever heard a woman make came tearing out of her.

  There was blood. A lot of it. Spattered over the floor and one wall, and as he drew in a deep breath, his stomach clenched with knots.

  It was human blood. Vivian’s blood. And the assholes had left a message written for them with it on the wall.

  Too late Runners. This bitch is ours.

  Chapter 5

  It wasn’t until Elliot’s strong arms wrapped around her from behind in a warm, comforting embrace that Skye realized the high-pitched wail echoing in her ears was her own.

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. It’s okay, sweetheart. Just calm down for me.”

  With her back still to his front, he lifted her off her feet and quickly pulled her from the room, reaching back with one arm to yank the door shut before carrying h
er into the living room. Since there was nowhere to sit down, he set her back on her feet, but kept his powerful arms wrapped around her, and she trembled as she felt him place his cheek against the top of her head.

  “Come on,” he crooned, surrounding her in his warmth as she tried to stop making the god-awful sounds that were being pulled up from deep inside her. Oh, God... Vivian! She silently screamed that phrase over and over inside her head, feeling like she’d slipped into some kind of macabre, demented nightmare. What the hell had happened to her best friend? Was she hurt? Was she...gone? And why? Why was this happening?

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the sinister images of Viv’s room that kept flashing through her mind. But it was impossible. Who could do such a thing? Who would? And why?

  “Skye, listen to me.” He’d lowered his head, speaking the urgent words against her ear, and she could feel the warmth and smoothness of his lips against her sensitive skin. “I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Come on, honey. I know you can do it.”

  Somehow, Elliot’s deep voice managed to reach in and capture her attention from the painful chaos of her thoughts, the husky timbre grounding her when everything around her seemed to be spinning so violently out of control. She gasped, trying to do as he said, but it seemed to take long, endless moments before her lungs could finally work. She coughed and wheezed between sniffs and hiccups, her muscles twitching as she let him hold her up, her limbs as weak as a rag doll’s. If he’d let her go, she would have simply fallen into a heap of broken sobs and fear on the floor. One more broken thing there to add to all the others.

  But he didn’t let her go. He held her like he would stand there and hold her forever, if that’s what it took, and as the seconds ticked by, she could feel his strength seeping into her, until she was able to blink her vision clear and pull in a slow, deep, shuddering breath. At that moment, Skye honestly didn’t know what she would have done without him. She didn’t even want to think about it. And, yeah, she was going to have about a million and one questions once she’d managed to calm down. Just...not now. Right now, she needed to keep feeling his strong arms holding her close, his chest rising and falling at her back as he matched the rhythm of his breathing to hers.