Her Perilous Wolf - Julie Steimle (types of ebook readers TXT) 📗

was, he did not feel good enough for her. He was just glad he was no longer stuck on Daisy. He was grateful to Audry for that.

Looking pained, Matthew sighed. “That is a bad attitude.”

Rick shrugged. “It is better than people getting hurt.”

Matthew looked away. His body, though, has stiffened. Had someone gotten hurt? Someone connected to him? And somehow he could not say it out loud….

Rick’s cell phone chimed. It was not a usual number either. Most of his friends had ringtones selected for them—or it played Werewolves of London. Normally he would not answer such a foreign call, but something motivated him to press the green button. Perhaps it was the cautious look in Matthew’s eye. Matthew was waiting for this call.

“Hello?” Rick kept one eye on Matthew who listened in.

<< Hello Mr. Deacon. >> The voice was unfamiliar.

“Uh. Mr. Deacon is my father. You have the wrong number.” He almost pressed end when he heard a feminine gasp, pained. That tone triggered something in his feral brain. His entire body shivered.

<< Do you recognize this phone number? >> the menacing voice asked.

“No,” Rick said, his flesh shaking as the hairs began to stand up. “Who are you? Why are you calling me? And who was that woman I just heard?”

<< Brace yourself and do not react. You are being watched by my men. And they have a gun trained on both you and your friend. >>

Rick opened his mouth to say something snarky when the man added, << Her life depends on it. Do not say a word except ‘yes’ or ‘no’. >>

Shivers went down his skin again. Rick peeked to Matthew whose eyes had not left him. Damn, he knew this call was coming alright.

“Personal call?” Matthew asked, sounding off-hand.

Rick stiffened. He nodded. “Yes.”

<< Don’t say a word to tip him off. We’ll shoot him if you do. We don’t need a meddler like him involved. >>

“What is the nature of this call?” Rick asked, his mind adding on, ‘There are gunmen who will shoot us. Act normal.’

Matthew maintained his posture of patient curiosity.

<< We have something very precious to you. It is simple. We’ll trade her life for yours. >>

The hairs on the back of Rick’s scalp stood up, his heart pounding. “What?”

Matthew listened to his thoughts of panic, pretending he wasn’t while sipping his coffee. He could not hear the actual call. Rick always kept his cellphone at a really low volume. But that was fine. He could still hear what Rick was thinking.

<< You will meet our contact at Columbus Circle, and he will take you to the exchange site. Understand? >>

Rick’s mouth felt dry. His hand trembled. “Yes. Can I talk to her, whoever she is?”

Matthew perked up. “What’s this?”

Rick covered his phone. “Blind date.” His mind added, ‘I’m not sure. Some kind of hostage situation. I’m meeting them at Columbus Circle first. They have some woman as a hostage.’

<< I said don’t say anything to him! >>

Scratching his forehead, Rick replied, “I’m sorry. I’m in a middle of a breakfast. Can you make this quick?”

<< Very funny, wolf. Fine. If you need to hear her… >>

The noise of a scuffle on the other end came through the phone, some protesting, someone saying ‘no, I won’t’ then a yelp with a slapping noise. Again the voice was familiar, triggering something deep in him, causing an animal ache in his gut.

<< She’s an uncooperative little b— >>

“Hey!” Rick snapped. “You don’t say that about women. If she doesn’t want to, don’t make her.”

“That sounds like a weird date,” Matthew murmured. Yet his eyes spoke volumes. He was ready to help. In fact, he had already planned backup. That was enough for Rick.

That moment, those thugs did something to the woman on the other side that made her cry out then sob. Immediately Rick knew who it was. A shiver went through him with an ache. He would never forget that voice. Everything in him stiffened.

<< Ah… don’t say anything to alert your friend, or she’s dead. We see you got it. >>

“Everything in a relationship should be consensual,” Rick growled out, his face feeling hot. They had Audry.

<< Then you consent? If you don’t, she dies. >>

“I see,” Rick murmured, his blood now going cold. He had to do something. “I’ll meet you then.”

<< End your breakfast date. Make some excuse about business. Go now. >>

The call ended. 

Rick lifted his eyes to Matthew and faked a smile. It wasn’t in his eyes, of course. He rose from his seat as he said, “Sorry. I have to run. Business.” His mind however screamed, ‘They have Audry. Help me.’

“Sorry you have to leave so soon,” Matthew answered, maintaining the casual façade. “Are you sure you’re ok? You look upset.”

Rick shook his head. “I’m good.” His brain said, ‘Track us.’

Nodding, Matthew waved.

Rick rushed off, heading to the curb to call an Über. Matthew watched him, sighed, all while listening to his earpiece. Tom Brown had been listening to them the entire time, watching from a high window to scout out anyone watching him and Rick. Since Jessica’s phone call, they had planned for Matthew to tag along with Rick until he got the call. They were just glad it had come early.

<< Ok… Rick is on the move. Where’s he headed to? >>

Matthew put a hand over his mouth, pretending to read the menu as he suspected he was still being watched. He murmured, “Columbus Circle. Someone get there and see who it is. I’m sure they’re not doing the exchange there. It’s too public. And they know about the Seven’s trackers.”

<< I’m on it. >> Daniel Smith replied.

Of course he was. He didn’t get the nickname Swift for nothing.

Tom remarked from his scouting place nearby, << I see two men who could be SRA. One is definitely packing. Old friend… I think they plan to kill you. >>

Matthew nodded. “Damn. This means I have to improvise.”

<< Can I just disarm them? >>

“Without their knowledge.” Matthew looked up that same second a man in a suit sat into the seat across from him. Matthew frowned. “Excuse me. That seat is taken.”

“No, it isn’t,” said the man who had a face like a shampoo and toothpaste advertisement—except for the swollen nose taped with butterfly bandages across a gash which apparently had been recently broken. “I know who you are. Don’t make any false moves, or I’ll just shoot you.”

<< Ooh. I didn’t peg him as one. My bad. >> Tom sounded only mildly apologetic though.

“What is a false move?” Matthew replied, leaning against the table. “I never got that saying.”

Chuckling, the man with the perfect teeth grin replied, “Any move I don’t like.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows.

<< Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of it. You can go. >>

Rising from his seat, Matthew said, “I don’t have the time or the temperament right now to play games with you. Whoever you are, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

He heard a click under the table. Then another one.

“Gun broken?” Matthew said, smirking at him.

The man paled.

The next second, Matthew delivered a punch into the man’s face, then kicked him off his feet—to the upset of all the other café patrons around him. He whipped out his cuffs to bind the jerk. Kneeling down, he grabbed an arm. “You have the right to remain silent, you scumbag. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law….”

Up ran Officer Joshua Johnson in full uniform. He helped the dazed and bleeding man into cuffs and onto his feet. They shook down all his clothes, taking out his cell phone, the spare magazine for his gun, and his own wire for others on his team to listen in. There were those who knew he had just been busted of course, but they hoped they had not yet given any connection to Rick’s situation.

“I’m a federal agent,” the man shouted. “You can’t do this.”

JJ pocketed the man’s phone and surveillance equipment, nodding to Matthew. “Really? Well then, you’ll have to explain that to the judge when you are charged with attempted murder of a police officer.”

Two more cops came up and dragged the agent away to their car.

<< Ok, I see Howie. >> Daniel announced from where he was. << He’s at Columbus Circle. And there it is. A van. Oh… I know one of them. They’re SRA alright. >>

“Damn.” Matthew clenched his teeth. “License plate?”

<< It’s obscured. Wait a second. I can’t take a picture of it. Some kind of reflective material on it. Um. GCE15P. >>

“Ok. We’ll run it. You follow them if you can.” Matthew hoped they had not trashed Rick’s tracker, though it was likely they had chucked it as well.

<< You got it. >>

“Hey, Tom, how is the other team doing?” Matthew waited. “Any luck?”

<< They’re very upset. They found the white crystal Silvia gave her. It was crushed and tossed in a subway station on the tracks. >>

Matthew ground his teeth.

<< But they are still tracking the rusty stone. >> Tom sighed. << They can’t get a read on Audry herself. They’re using a counter magic of some sort. >>

“That doesn’t sound like SRA policy,” Matthew muttered, hurrying back to the parking structure where he had left his car.

<< Yeah. Tommy Two-feather is really irate about it. But that means, woo hoo! it’s prosecutable. >>

“Prosecutable is good,” Matthew muttered. “We need to end this harassment once and for all. We can’t have Audry’s life at risk—or for that matter anybody’s—simply for knowing Rick.”

*

Rick’s hands practically convulsed as he sat with those SRA thugs in the van, knowing they could not just shoot him as a man. They had a peculiar disconnect, as they would have easily shot Matthew and not thought twice about it. But from the awkwardness of that morning breakfast date, he knew Matthew was already aware of what was happening. Apparently he was the only one out of the loop.

“When we get there,” one of those SRA hunters said with a gun jammed into Rick’s side, “You’re gonna strip, and go wolf.”

“What?” Rick turned his eyes on him. “So you can shoot me?”

“Yeah.” The man smiled as if it were the best deal he would get.

Rick eyed the other man, the one he knew from past encounters—the comrade to George Zeballos. He knew that man would have just shot him here without the transformation. His Van Helsing glare on him was condemning enough. “Look. I didn’t want George Zeballos to die—”

That hunter punched Rick in the face.

Clenching his mouth, tasting the blood, Rick felt around to see if any of his teeth were loose. It had been a stupid thing to say. However, he had wanted to tell him for ages, something in his defense.

They eventually arrived at wherever it was—some underpass to some old highway, or rail, or something. A bad, if not desolate neighborhood. When the van door slid open, they pushed Rick out. He practically stumbled to his feet.

And there was Audry. Duct tape over her mouth, bushy brown hair a wild mess, her clothes were wrangled up, including the front of her shirt which was open to the degree that her nude bra was visible, her breasts heaving. But her bullet necklace was missing. He could see bruising around the back of her neck also. Her tearstained face stared at him imploringly, red on the cheeks from what appeared to be hard slaps—but her blue green eyes were not begging for rescue. They were begging for him to run. A large purple bruise swelled near her eye. One of her elbows was crusted with blood, the edge of her mid-sleeves stained. Matthew Hauge, that SRA hunter related to the McDillans was holding her—undoubtedly the cause of most of her bruises.

“Let her go,” he called out. “I’m here. It’s what you’re after.”

“Strip,” that friend to Zeballos said into his ear, standing right behind him.

Rick shot him a dirty look over his shoulder. “You just want