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There are many reasons I have been friends with this man for the better part of a decade, and his intelligence and practicality are certainly two of them.
While he takes out his cell and begins making calls, I carry her toward the far end of the alley. The bastards hadn’t been cautious in their haste to capture her. This alley lies only a short distance from the club, and any number of humans or supernaturals might have spotted them.
But it also leaves us without many options to escape. People loiter all around the club entrance, and security cameras monitor the area as well. Three men carrying away an unconscious woman would automatically cause alarm, and with good reason.
How the hell those traders planned to get her away from here is anyone’s guess.
“She’ll need water,” Huck says, sticking close to my side. “Lots of water. Her mouth will be really dry when she wakes up.”
Sympathy rises, but I hide a grimace. He doesn’t need to see my pity for how well-acquainted he obviously is with the aftereffects of sedation. “We’ll make sure she gets that, friend.”
He nods, but he doesn’t take his eyes from her.
I glance around carefully when we reach the end of the alleyway. A few people amble across the intersection two dozen yards to my right, but they never glance this way. Otherwise the road is empty, and though the streetlamps create pools of light and deep shadows, Beastly is riding close enough behind my eyes that my vision can compensate easily for the contrast.
Zeb ends his call and pauses at my side, peering up and down the street. “Two minutes.”
Irritation makes my teeth clench. “They were that far from here?”
“Party blocking the intersection.”
A growl climbs my throat, and it takes effort not to crush the woman in my arms closer to me. It could be a coincidence.
It could also be a trap.
“We need to put more distance between us and this place,” Zeb continues as if reading my mind. “The traders could have people coming as well.”
I don’t bother to voice my agreement, turning instead to the south and striding quickly down the sidewalk, skirting each pool of light from the streetlamps as I go. We’re not being nearly as stealthy as I would like, and Beastly hovers close, ready to devour anything that might consider taking advantage of that fact. But Zeb is right. The bastards who hurt her may well have friends on the way.
A screech of tires behind me sends Beastly surging through my muscles and bones, and I barely stop him from taking control. Around the corner, a black SUV makes a tight turn and then heads straight for us, skidding to a halt only a few yards away.
I tense, but traders aren’t the ones who shove open the doors and hurry out of the vehicle. Dressed in black with guns at their hips, the security Zeb hired before we came to town rushes toward us, surrounding us immediately.
“Delta team reports a suspicious truck headed this way,” the woman in charge announces without preamble.
“Fuck,” Zeb mutters.
I don’t waste another second. Climbing in with Huck on my heels, I hold Mabel’s Hyde close and grit my teeth against the way Beastly wants to shift my bones.
The SUV surges forward, the acceleration pushing me back into the seat. At my side, Huck doesn’t take his eyes from the woman in my arms, his hands hovering over her like he wants to touch her but is afraid she’ll disappear.
“We’ll get her to safety,” I tell him.
He nods without ever looking away from her.
The driver curses, his attention on the rearview mirror. I twist to check behind me.
A truck has just rounded the corner. It appears to be a delivery vehicle, though its tall, boxy shape is unmarked by any logos. But around its sides, three motorcycles suddenly race into sight.
They charge straight toward us.
In the row of seats behind me, the team leader mutters something heated under her breath. Pressing her fingers to her earpiece, she says, “Hostiles coming up fast. Bravo Team, you got them?”
With Beastly’s help, I pick up the murmur of confirmation from her earpiece, and a moment later, a half dozen motorcycles whip past us on the street, racing straight at the oncoming vehicles. Gunfire breaks out, peppering the walls around us.
“Get down!” the team leader shouts.
I don’t need the order, though my size doesn’t exactly make it simple. But I tuck down as low as I can, covering the woman in my arms, while Huck does the same.
