Blood Enforcer (Wolf Enforcers Book 2) Page 10

“Change your mind about leaving me here?”

  “Nope.” Before she could react he reached in and grabbed her left hand and locked the pair of handcuffs around her wrist, snapping the empty loop onto the steering wheel.

  “What the hell?” Glenna tugged at the cuffs and gave him the evil eye. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Were you really going to stay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Now you will.” He stepped back and went to shut the door.

  “What if that crazy wolf kid comes around?”

  “You’ll be toast. Don’t unlock the door.” He slammed the door shut and left, listening to her muffled shouts as he clicked the locks shut, set the alarm, and headed for the main building.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam climbed the steps and crossed the wide, covered porch, pulling open one of the large, double wood doors. It was that space of time between dinner and bed. There should be sounds of boys running through the halls, messing around before bedtime. There should be kids everywhere, studying in the main room to the left, sitting by the fireplace. Instead the building held a terrible quiet.

  He went down the hall and followed the sound of voices down to the principal’s office. He pushed open the door without knocking. They’d called him. They knew he was coming.

  Alastair McHenry, the current head of the school, and Ray Owens, the school’s enforcer liaison, broke off an intense conversation.

  “I’m here. What’s the low-down?” Sam stood in the open door. The room hadn’t changed much since he’d been here. Same oil paintings of flying geese, same filing cabinets, different jerk behind the wide wooden desk.

  “Sam.” Alastair nodded at him. “Direct as always.” The tall, lean spelltalker came around from behind the broad desk covered with maps and papers and stretched out his hand.

  Sam ignored it. Spelltalkers were an important piece of pack life, but Sam had never met one he liked. And Alastair fit the mold—secretive, aloof, and arrogant. They’d been here at school together and even before they’d gone through the change he’d known the man was a weasel.

  Alastair gave him a cool stare, before letting his own hand drop to his side.

  Ray’s grim face told Sam it wasn’t good. “We’ve a boy loose.” Ray was an older enforcer, settled down with a mate, two grown kids and a beer belly. He’d worked with Ray a few times since coming to Ram’s Haven, but never on something like this. “We know he’s shifted—he went through the change a few days ago.”

  “Why the hell wasn’t he sequestered?”

  “He was.” Ray shook his head and his frustrated look said it all. “One of his friends stole the key and tried to sneak him some magazines and accidentally came upon him in mid-shift. The kid freaked and ran out, leaving the door open.”

  “Way to run a school, Alastair.”

  The spelltalker’s angular body stiffened.

  The hair on the back of Sam’s neck lifted and he ratcheted down the disproportionate response. Alastair wasn’t going to attack him.

  Settle down, Wulfric.

  He shook his head. “Sorry,” He ground out the apology. Man, he had to get a handle on this. Glenna’s change had pushed him further than he’d thought. “I guess I’m stressed. Too many days spent in that house on watch for the cops.”

  Alastair nodded, but prudently moved back to stand on the other side of the desk. “Most of the staff is out looking through the woods. I’m running dispatch through here, and Ray’s keeping tabs in the basement on the rest of the kids.”

  “And I’d better get down there. The older kids are okay for a short while, but this has got everyone riled.” Ray headed for the door, slapping Sam on the shoulder as he brushed past.

  Sam’s head jerked back, his wolf roared inside, demanding he put the other man down. Show him who was alpha.

  Ray’s eyes flared wide. He stepped back, purposefully adopting a passive stance by dropping his shoulders and spreading out his hands, palms up. “Whoa, Sam!” His mouth curved up into a quick, nervous grin. “Better get under control before you go after him or we’ll be hunting two of you.”

  “I’m good.”

  The other two men eyed him. Ray looked back and forth between Sam and Alastair, his fake smile faltering.

  Shit. Sam exhaled and did his best to look calm on the outside, knowing he was a fraud. He’d worked so hard to come back from his reputation after his stint in the woods. All he needed was to lose it now. He’d have no job, no standing in the pack. He might as well just have run wild and never tried to make it back to normal.

  “I’m good.” He was running too close to the line, but there was no one else and they needed him here.

  Ray gave him a long look, then shook his head and left the room. Sam knew the other enforcer could smell the aggression on his skin, but was taking him at his word. Maybe Ray was losing his own edge.

  Alastair began filling him in on where the searchers were, as if nothing had happened, but he continued to keep the desk between them at all times. And he didn’t sit down. Every suspicious glance and tense movement sent sparks of tension down Sam’s spine until he was as tight as a wire, and just as ready to snap.

  He needed to work with men like Alastair, needed them to trust him. Or at least believe he could be trusted. He knew his own rep. Knew everyone watched him, waiting for him to head back to the dark side. Hell, even he expected it. How could he expect anyone else to trust him? And like them, he didn’t know when the break would come. He just knew it was inevitable.

  Alastair moved a little too quickly, and Sam jumped.

  He shoved his wolf down. The break was coming, but it couldn’t be tonight. He wouldn’t let it be tonight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Glenna pulled Lana’s too-small jacket tight around her. What was taking Sam so long? She was cold and a little bored. She’d tried all the little cubbies in the SUV that she could reach, but the glove box was locked and the center console storage had nothing useful but a pocket knife and some stale candy. She slipped both into her pocket. If she got the chance to run, she was taking it.

  With Sam gone and nothing but his lingering masculine scent to remind her of him, she was thinking more clearly. And nothing about this situation felt right. Whatever the hell a pack enforcer was, it wasn’t a government position. Sam moved with the tight control of someone on alert, but he looked like he belonged on the streets.

  And then there was his casual explanation of the wolves, as if either or both of them weren’t crazy. If he was telling the truth? If she’d really seen what she thought she’d seen? Actual werewolves?

  She shivered and hugged herself a little tighter. She didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

  She’d been over and over this in her mind and either the entire media was wrong, or these people she’d gotten taken by were wrong. And what were the odds of Dr. Lana and her bunch of thugs being right? Next to nil.

  She started ticking the facts off on her fingers.

  Number one: everyone knew that lycanthroism was fatal.

  Number two: it was well publicized that before the victim died, they went insane—biting, and clawing, and becoming so wild that the disease had been given a name reminiscent of werewolves. Everyone knew it resulted in death.

  And that led to number three: even though the news had covered this in detail, she couldn’t remember one specific story with detailed pictures, just rumor and innuendo that the person had been taken into quarantine, and never seen again.

  But Sam said she wasn’t going to die, that she wasn’t going to go crazy. That thought lifted her hopes up high. He’d also said she could never go home.

  Another shiver shook her.

  The really crazy thing, the thing that was absolutely nuts, was that—whenever Sam was next to her all she wanted to do was turn to him and touch his skin, his face, his lips. He’d called it her pheromones affecting him, but why was her body betraying her this way? What the hell was wro
ng with her?

  Trying to get comfortable she shifted around, managing only to have the steel of the handcuff bite harder into her wrist. Damn Sam for leaving her here like this. She could have been out of the car and to the main road by now. Someone would have stopped for her, but no, here she was, latched onto the steering wheel. And he didn’t seem to be coming back.

  Why did she want to trust him? Was it just sexual desire? Was she that deprived in her normal life that she wanted to jump the first piece of beefcake that walked her way? Had she been trapped with accountants and her grandmother’s stuffy society friends too long?

  Speaking of too long... “Where the hell are you, Sam?” She yanked on the cuff, her irritation rising along with her welts.

  This was a school. There’d be a phone. All she needed were a few minutes and she could call her sister, call her fiancé. Roger was organized, meticulous and informed, even if he did have a stick rammed up his ass. He would know where to find information for her. Solid, hard facts, not internet speculation. He would help her. She squelched the thought that he’d help her not because he loved her, but because unless he did, the marriage to her family name and fortune would fall through. Her engagement was what it was—another way to keep afloat in her grandmother’s world. And she’d made peace with her choices long ago.

  Roger was the right choice. The choice that Grandmother wanted. Roger understood the family business and would run it the right way—the McReynolds way. She’d learned early in life that she was too wild, too unrestrained. Grandmother said she needed a man who had a level head on his shoulders to counterbalance her redheaded tendencies, and when it came to business, Grandmother was always right. So what, if Roger wasn’t super exciting? He’d take care of Grandmother and Sarah. He’d make sure everything was safe.

  A shadow blocked the streetlight. She ducked down as low as she could get. A man’s face filled her window, unrecognizable in the dark corner of the parking lot. She flinched, then sat up as she realized it was Sam frowning back at her. He knocked on the glass.

  “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” He opened her door and leaned over, unlocking her from the steering wheel. A waft of Sam filled her senses and she nearly arched her back into him. Damn it. She had to get this thing under control. Maybe it was part of the insanity and hallucinations. Maybe a rabid sex drive was part of the lychanthro-looney bin package.

  Sam stood back and held the door wide. “Come on. I have someone who’ll watch you. How are you feeling? Are you up to this?”

  “I’m fine.” She climbed slowly out of the SUV, rubbing her wrist, refusing his offer of help and dropping the foot and a half to the ground.

  It had been too much to hope he’d leave her in a room alone. Not because of her fragile body or her illness. No matter what he implied or his crazy stories, they were keeping her isolated for some other reason. If it wasn’t impending insanity—and it sure as hell wasn’t because she was going to turn into a wolf—what was it?

  They entered the building through a heavy set of wooden double doors, emerging into a wide foyer. Every light in the hallway and up the grand staircase was on, but it still felt gloomy. There was something creepy about the old place and the sense of quiet anticipation permeating the atmosphere gave Glenna goose bumps, even through her long sleeves. She rubbed her arms and peered into the dark corners of the room, expecting the filmy shades of former residents to float down the wide wooden treads, skimming her face with spectral hands and wailing of their deaths.

  She shook it off. “Where are all the boys?” Her hushed voice sounded loud, echoing off the wooden floors. What was wrong with her? She’d been in old houses before. Grandmother’s house was nearly as old as this one and just as large, and while it had been spooky with the lack of love, she’d never once met a ghost. Grandmother wouldn’t have tolerated it.

  “They’re in lockdown in the basement of the dormitory next door.”

  “Sounds like purgatory.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s full of games and movies. They’ll have fun. They’re likely overexcited by all of this anyway.”

  She couldn’t picture a crowd of unruly boys running amok here. “It’s pretty formal. No wonder they prefer the basement.”

  Sam snorted and led her under the high, ornate ceilings of a huge parlor and a library with dark wooden shelves and on down the hall to the door marked Headmaster.

  The door was wide open. Inside, despite the antique desk and heavy antique furniture, was a very modern office complete with computer, couch and extra chairs. And a phone. Her pulse sped up. She forced her gaze away from the black desk phone and instead focused on the tall slender man standing behind it.

  As tall as Sam, but lean and dark where Sam was large with muscle. This man was the type of man she was used to—jet black hair cropped short, button-down shirt casually open at the top, matching tie pulled down and a little askew. But somehow she wanted to hide behind Sam from his piercing silver gaze instead of running to this stranger for help.

  “Glenna, this is Alastair. He’s in charge here.” Sam’s tone held a gritty note and his face was stiff. The back of her neck tingled.

  “Glenna, hi, so nice to meet you.” Alastair reached out and took her un-outstretched hand, pulling it up and squeezing it in a too familiar way. “Sorry I can’t really welcome you here the way I would like to, as I’m sure Sam’s told you, we’re in a bit of a bind.” Alastair smiled, a flash of white teeth. “What I can offer is guest space.”

  She forced herself not to recoil as she shook his hand. All the childhood years of smiling when she didn’t feel like it, came to her rescue. A pleasant mask slid over her face and she took her hand back from his as soon as she possibly could, resisting the urge to wipe the feel of his touch off on the leg of her pants.

  “No problem, all I need is a place to rest.” As the words came out, she realized it was true. Her legs were shaky and her head ached.

  “Too much, too soon.” Sam’s surprisingly welcome arm came around her, and she leaned into his strength. “I’ll show her the parlor and be right back.”

  Something flickered across Alastair’s face and he jerked, just a slight movement as if he had an objection. He too slid a mask over his face. “Of course, but I need you back ASAP, Sam.” He nodded at Glenna and flashed his gleaming smile. “I’ll be checking in on you.”

  She repressed the shiver, but still felt Sam’s hand tighten on hers in response.

  She leaned as he led her across the hall and into a small room that looked like it had been decorated by someone’s maiden aunt decades ago.

  “What’s with this place?” She sat down on the groaning sofa and immediately sank into the broken springs hidden under the brocade.

  “Welcome to the ladies’ parlor.” Sam flourished his hand at the antique furniture. “Unlike everywhere else in our world, it’s only men here. Women aren’t allowed in the rest of the building.” He sat next to her. “Will you be okay?” His protective words and anxious expression warmed her shivering skin.

  She wanted to ask him to stay, ask him to drive her back to her sickroom where she could crawl beneath the sheets and hide. She wanted to bury her nose in his chest and inhale his starting-to-become-familiar scent. But he wasn’t her protector or her lover, no matter what her rebellious out-of-whack hormones thought. He was her jailer, and this might be her only opportunity to escape.

  She kept her spine rigid. “I’ll be fine.”

  His face blanked and he stood back up. “Get some sleep. Alastair will be in the office across the hall. Don’t try anything. I’ve told him to leave the door open and he knows to keep you here. You may hear other searchers come in and out, but don’t leave this room.” She followed him to the door. He turned back to her, his blue eyes dark with warning. “Glenna, I know you don’t understand any of this, but this isn’t a safe place for you, it’s just the best I can do. Lock the door behind me and don’t let anyone in.”

  “I won’
t.”

  He hesitated. A shudder went through him. “Aw, hell.” He reached out, yanking her to his side and crushing her to his chest. He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath, his exhale blowing softly along her scalp. “I know you’re thinking of running, but don’t. I’m leaving you uncuffed, just in case you have to defend yourself. You’re a rabbit among the hounds here. To these boys, you smell like sex. God...” He took another deep shuddering breath. “To me, you smell like sex.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again and the anticipation ran through her like an electric charge. But instead, he squeezed her tight and abruptly let her go.

  She stumbled without his support.

  “Lock it,” he growled, his eyes burning his message in before he strode out the door, yanking it shut behind him.

  She crumbled into the sofa, her jelly legs refusing to hold her body up. What was wrong with her? She felt the lack of him as keenly as if he were essential to her survival. And he wasn’t. No, he definitely wasn’t.

  “Glenna.” He called from the other side.

  She stumbled to the door and turned the lock. Pressing her ear to the wood she heard him walking way, his strides long and confident and filled with frustration.

  She was alone.

  No Lana. No Ellen. No Sam. There was a phone across the hall. And Alastair. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she couldn’t waste this chance. It might be the only one she’d get.

  ***

  Sam popped the back of the Suburban. Time was running out for the adolescent boy loose in the woods. Others were already out searching, but there were too few wolves tonight to adequately cover the forest. He wondered again where the fuck everyone was as he stripped down to nothing and attached a loose collar with a radio to his neck.

  “Sam to base, over.”

  “I’m reading you Sam.” Alastair’s voice was clear over the radio. “Ready to run?”

  “Yep. Any word on him?”

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know if anything happens.” He’d never been friends with Alastair, but tonight the spelltalker rubbed him every wrong way. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to get the kinks out of them, and listened to Alastair’s instructions. As much as it set his back up, the spelltalker was in charge. “You’re late to the party, Sam; they’ve tracked him up and over the ridge. If you take the river trail you should meet up with them near Rockham.”