chapter 22
Nick was glad Drake had been right about Martin Rossi’s limo driver. The guy was more than willing to take a bribe.
“So, I guess all we have to work out is how you’ll deliver him to me and when.”
“Hey, I don’t want him knowin’ I had any part in dis. If you can figure out a way to stop me as I’m drivin’ him somewheres, den, you know, you can grab him and take him in for questioning or whatevah.”
“I’m not a cop and even if I was, I wouldn’t have any jurisdiction here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, how you get him is your problem. I can tell you when I have him in my car without any bodyguards, my route, and when we’ll be on the road. Maybe you can set up a roadblock or somethin’.”
Nick didn’t know how strong dragons were. If a werewolf could overpower him easily, yes, a roadblock might work.
“In your opinion, would he be helpless to defend himself against one powerful man? Is that why he has bodyguards? Or would I need a small army to bring him down?”
The guy shrugged. “I ain’t never seen him in a fight. He pays people to do his dirty work.”
“It sounds like I can take him.” I’d better call Drake to be sure.
The driver looked up and down, obviously sizing up Nick. “Yeah. You’re a big dude. You could probably wrestle him to the ground. But he’ll yell for me to help him. If I don’t, he’ll know I sold him out.”
Nick thought about the predicament for a moment. “How are your acting skills?”
The guy laughed. “Well, I ain’t never been in a play if dat’s what you mean.”
“If it looked like you were coming to his aid, and I pretended to hit you, could you act as if I had knocked you out?”
Light dawned in the man’s eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Den it would be you against him, and I’d be off da hook.”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah. I could do dat. Hell, I could even take some actin’ lessons. Maybe after I lose my job I can become a stunt man or somethin’.”
“That’s a great idea!” That’s a terrible idea. People have to practice for years to do that sort of thing.
Nick dug a paper out of his pocket. He had already written the number of his disposable cell phone on it. “Here’s how you can reach me. Do you think he’ll be going somewhere in the next few days?”
“Yeah. He visits his mistress every Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Perfect.” Nick felt even better about doing whatever he had to in order to get this guy. He had little sympathy for a man who cheated on his wife.
The limo driver shuffled his feet. “So, we have a deal?”
Nick extended his hand. “Absolutely.”
The guy shook it.
“Oh, one more ’ting. You said you’d pay me in cash. I want a down payment.”
“Right.” Nick had expected that. He removed his wallet and peeled off five hundred-dollar bills. “I believe half up-front is customary. The other half on delivery.”
“Yeah, and make sure he doesn’t see you givin’ me the other half.”
“I’ll tie him up and blindfold him before you,” Nick made air quotes, “‘wake up.’ I’ll have the money in an envelope and I’ll toss it into the limo.”
“Okay. You sure you can pull this off?”
“Unless he has superhuman strength I don’t know about, yeah. I’m sure.”
The only thing I’m not sure about is what’ll happen to him once I deliver him to the mayor and police commissioner. Then he thought of Gaia. If only he could get her to zap this guy to an island the size of a postage stamp!
***
The following day, Nick kept his cell phone on, anxiously waiting for the driver’s signal. At last the text arrived, alerting Nick to the limo’s route and status. He drove his rented van to the rendezvous point and blocked the road with large crates. As a werewolf, he had the strength to toss them out of his way as if they were empty shoe boxes.
The limo approached the barrier and slowed to a stop. The driver honked his horn. He probably wants his annoyance to look good for his boss. Suddenly the driver stepped out of the vehicle.
Wait. This isn’t the scenario we agreed upon.
The driver had probably forgotten or become confused. He didn’t seem very bright. Nick approached, figuring he’d pretend to knock him out first. Oh well. Either way, it’ll work. He took a swing, but instead of going down, the driver ducked. The back door swung open and two bodyguards rushed out.
F*ck. I’ve been double-crossed.
After a long struggle, the three of them managed to get Nick to the ground and pinned. They zip-tied his hands behind his back. Fortunately, Nick managed to ball his fists before the ties were secure. That would leave a bit of wiggle room when he relaxed his hands.
The driver laughed. “You thought I’d turn over my boss for a measly thousand bucks? He paid me twice that much to turn the tables on you.”
With a lot of grunting, the goons managed to drag Nick to the limo and force him inside. The boss wasn’t even with them.
The driver took off in reverse, turned the car around as if he’d had stunt driving experience since birth, and roared off.
Shit. “Where are you taking me?” Nick asked.
“Shut up,” was the only answer he received from one of the bodyguards.
Nick’s next thought was about Brandee. What if he never made it back home? Would she think he’d abandoned her? She couldn’t, right? Even with her abandonment issues, he’d made it abundantly clear he’d never leave her. Hadn’t he?
The thought that he might hurt her, regardless of how unintentionally, gave him a sudden surge of strength and he kicked out, hitting one of the bodyguards square in the jaw.
“Ow! That hurt, dickwad.”
The other one pulled a weapon while the first guy rubbed the back of his neck. “We was supposed to bring you to da boss alive, but accidents happen. Don’t try that again, or this gun might accidentally go off.”
Shit. Shit. Double shit.
***
Nick was refusing to walk to his doom. If they insisted on taking him into the mansion, they’d have to drag his deadweight up the stairs. Deadweight. That’s what I’ll be anyway, if I can’t get away.
Tired of trying to lug him across the manicured lawn, one of them said, “Hey, why don’t we just stuff him in the gardener’s shed for now. We can tell the boss we’ve got him stashed and ask for further instructions.”
“Dat’s a good idea,” the driver said. “I’ll get da key. Can you two hang on to him while I’m gone?”
The only thing his cohort said was, “Hurry.”
Nick had an opportunity, but was it the right one? The men had at least one gun, maybe more. How far would he get? He couldn’t shift in front of humans—no matter what. But it sure would be fun to see their faces as they came face to face with a vicious werewolf.
He’d let them lock him in the shed. That way he’d have the privacy he needed to shift. Whenever they opened the door again, he could leap over their heads and run. He’d been clocked at speeds of up to forty miles per hour. He’d be long gone before they got into a car, and he could avoid roads.
Nick felt a little better having a plan that involved his superior senses. He’d be able to hear them coming and he’d be all ready to spring. They wouldn’t be expecting anything of the kind and would be flustered for a few precious seconds. Enough for him to get away.
And now that a crime had been committed, he could enlist the help of the local police. Were werewolves on the force in the Hamptons? It was a remote possibility. They tended to make good cops, so many went into law enforcement—at least in Boston. That might be too much to hope for here in a beach community.
He still didn’t know if dragons had superior strength or not. He’d tried to reach Drake yesterday at the fire station, but he was off for a few days. He wasn’t at Boston Uncommon and Nick didn’t have his unlisted home number, so he’d had to go with what he already knew. Drake had said he could fly. Would the boss shift and fly over the city to locate a wolf on the run? How would one explain a giant dragon in the sky? He might get away with it at night, so Nick hoped he could break out before the sun set.
There were too many possibilities for things to go wrong. He’d have to stay sharp and ready to change his plan at a moment’s notice.
***
That evening, Brandee paced the floor of her apartment. Holding her cell phone in one hand, she stared at it for the dozenth time.
“You can’t make it ring by looking at it, you know,” Angie said.
“Something must be wrong. He always calls by now to ask how my day was and tell me he loves me.”
“I’m sure he just forgot.” Angie patted their small dining table. “Please sit down and eat something.”
“I can’t. My stomach is in knots.”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it, so you might as well try to relax.”
Brandee halted and glanced up. “Wait a minute. Maybe there is something I can do.”
“Like what?”
“Go downstairs and talk to the guys at the bar. Maybe one of them knows something. Where he went, what he was planning. Maybe they can help find him and bring him back.”
Angie gave her a pitying look. “It’s a long shot.”
“But it’s worth a try. I can’t just sit around and do nothing. Why did it have to be my evening off? Work might have distracted me a little. Now I’ll be obsessing about it all night.”
“Why don’t you set up the darkroom and do some of your experiments? If I need to use the bathroom, I can always go downstairs.”
“You make me sound like Dr. Frankenstein.”
“I want you to find something constructive to do with your time. Hell, I wouldn’t even care if you decided to sew together human body parts if it would help you stop obsessing.”
Brandee thought about the time Nick had told her he was stronger than most men and, as a wolf, could run much faster. If he is in trouble, he’ll be able to get away, won’t he?
Angie rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I can see the wheels going round and round in your brain. Talk to the regulars. But what if it’s really just that he forgot to call? You’re going to feel like a total ass.”
“So? I’ll feel like an ass. A lucky ass. I’m willing to risk it.”
***
Nick had walked into the shed under his own power. As soon as he was alone, he shifted. As always, the transformation was painful, but he avoided making any more noise than necessary. He imagined someone might be outside, guarding him. A small window let in the rapidly fading light, but it was too small for a full-grown man to fit through. The building itself was built of cinder blocks, probably reinforced with rebar. The door was some kind of metal. The window was his only option.
Perhaps in his wolf form, however, he could fit through it.
He used his superior sense of hearing to determine if the guards were outside or not. He heard no conversation, but there were other noises. Nothing easy to identify. It could be a squirrel, for all he knew.
He crept toward the door and tried his sense of smell. Nothing. That didn’t mean much either. The wind could be blowing the other way.
Could he break the window and jump out?
Suddenly he heard voices in the distance. Someone is coming.
This would be his chance to put plan A into action and hope he didn’t need a plan B—because he didn’t have one.
Before long, the padlock rattled. He positioned himself a few feet away from the door so he could rush them, get a little momentum, and then spring over their heads. It wasn’t exactly a neat and tidy plan, but it should work. At least he had the element of surprise—if not utter shock—going for him. How they would explain to their boss about the switch between a six-foot-three human and a buff-colored wolf was their problem.
The door creaked as it opened. Nick spotted the two guards from before, and there was a third man, but not the driver. It was Martin Rossi or Irwin, or whatever his name was today. He sported the same yellow stripe in his hair as his nephew Drake had. Nick didn’t give them even a split second to realize they were dealing with a new animal and adjust their strategy.
He rushed at them, leaped into the air, and heard gasps as he took off running across the lawn. Suddenly a shot rang out.
Nick felt a hot poker stab him in the butt, and he yelped. He couldn’t afford to stop or even slow down. He dashed toward the tall hedge that separated the dragon’s property from the one next door. Instead of leaping over it, he dove for the small opening near the roots. Even with a few more scratches and throbbing hindquarters, he kept going—pressing on to the relative safety of the nearest Long Island police station.
Getting shot was no picnic, but now he had rock-solid evidence of an attempted murder. That should get Martin behind bars, at least temporarily.
***
Kurt and Tory sat at one of the tables, drinking frosty mugs of beer. Brandee chatted with Malcolm and waited until the back booth was open before approaching them. When the couple who’d been sitting in the desired booth finally got up to leave, she strode over to the wizard and shapeshifter.
“Can I talk to you two?” she asked.
“Of course. Have a seat,” Tory said.
“I’d prefer the back booth, if you don’t mind moving.”
“Whatever the lady wants,” Kurt said.
When the three of them were settled in the booth, Brandee waved away Wendy, who was about to come over. “I’ve got it,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She picked up a cocktail napkin and wiped off the table.
Wendy gave her an appreciative smile and practically skipped off to another table.
“Guys, have either of you heard from Nick recently?”
The two paranormals glanced at each other, then gave her their full attention. “No. Why? Haven’t you?”
“No, and I’m afraid something is wrong.”
At that moment, Sadie strode into the bar. Her booth was occupied, so as she stood surveying the place, Brandee waved her over.
She smiled and approached their booth.
Brandee scooted over so the psychic could join them.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Sadie asked immediately.
“Is it written on my face or did you pick up something psychically?” Brandee asked.
“Both,” Sadie answered.
“I usually hear from Nick a couple times a day. But today…nothing. I know he went to New York on a case, and I’m afraid something’s happened to him.”
Sadie nodded and drew out the velvet pouch she always carried her tarot cards in.
“You’re going to do a reading?” Brandee asked incredulously.
“Sometimes just drawing a single card will speak to me, and I can follow the psychic energy from there.”
Brandee remembered the time Sadie drew a single card for her, and up came The Lovers. The card had sparked her prediction that Brandee was about to embark on a relationship, and immediately Nick walked into her life. Maybe the cards really did speak to Sadie. In that case, Brandee hoped the cards were talkative today.
Sadie shuffled while the group waited in silent anticipation. Finally she fanned out the cards in a neat arc. “Form a question and then draw a card.”
Brandee thought about how to word the question so that she’d get the greatest amount of information. She didn’t just want to know that he was safe, because if the answer was “no,” she needed to know how to help him.
“Can I make it a two-part question?”
“Depends. Are the questions related?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
“You don’t usually ask people to voice their questions. I’ve heard you tell them to think of one, but not to ask it aloud.”
Sadie smiled. “That’s to impress the tourists. They’re always thrilled when I answer the question and they didn’t have to tell me what it was. You and I can cut through the bull.”
That was the first time Brandee had ever heard Sadie refer to what she did in a semi-derogatory way. She might have been concerned, but she knew Sadie was simply referring to her process, not to her psychic gift.
“I need to know if Nick’s in trouble, and if so, how we can help.” Her finger circled the air to include the others at the table. They seemed to understand—at least no one interrupted and said to leave them out of it.
Sadie nodded toward the cards. Brandee had almost forgotten she needed to draw one. Her hand shook slightly as she reached forward. How would she know which one to choose? She wasn’t psychic.
Brandee withdrew her hand and said, “I can’t. You do it, Sadie.”
Sadie raised her brows but didn’t argue. She pulled a card from the lineup and flipped it over. On it was a heart with three swords piercing it.
Brandee gasped. “Oh my…” There were no words for the fear that sliced through her at that moment.
Sadie was quick to say, “It’s not as bad as it looks. Although at this moment it may mean sorrow and pain, there’s a positive view in the end. Right now there’s upheaval, separation, disruption, and conflict. That’s the worst part. He’s probably worried about you and his not being here to reassure you.
“However, it also means the clearing of the obsolete to make way for what is to come. Establishment of something better. Had the card been upside down, an eventual defeat would be indicated. This card is telling me that, yes, he’s in trouble, but he will overcome this on his own. What you need to do is trust that. Trust him.”
Brandee covered her face with her hands. All she’d heard was that Nick was in trouble and nothing could be done about it.
Sadie placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s going to be all right. You need to believe that.”
Brandee stared at Sadie. “And what if I don’t? Is that going to affect the outcome?”
Sadie paused for several moments, as if trying to choose her words carefully.
“Brandee, dear. What we believe always impacts the energy around us. Look up the law of attraction online or in the library. It may sound odd at first, but think of it this way: it’s one way you can help Nick.”
She hung on that thought. “Okay. I do want to help Nick. So are you saying that the law of attraction will tell me how to do that?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Brandee nodded. At least she could do something to help. “Thanks, Sadie. I owe you one.”
Sadie smiled. “Well, you know what I like as payment for my services.”
Brandee kissed the old woman’s cheek. “One White Russian, coming up.” She waved to Wendy to get her attention and tried to think positive thoughts.
***
Nick was in too much pain to think about finding clothes and going to the police department. He figured the hospital would be less annoyed by a naked man with a bullet in his butt. How he’d explain it would be interesting.
Getting the bullet out right away was important too. Werewolves heal rapidly. He really didn’t want to explain why he’d waited until it was healed over before he sought treatment. He could always ask the police to take his statement at the hospital.
He’d managed to locate the nearest hospital by following the signs, then he shifted outside the emergency room and walked in, covering his genitals with his big hands. Even so, the nurse behind the partition seemed startled and took off.
Great. Just great. She’s probably calling security.
Moments later she returned with a hospital gown, practically threw it at him, and said, “For Pete’s sake! Put this on.”
Nick did as he was told and fastened it in the back.
“I don’t suppose you have your insurance card on you,” she said, smirking.
“You supposed right. I don’t have insurance. I’d say I’ll pay out of pocket, but…”
She finished his thought by rolling her eyes. The woman handed him a clipboard and told him to fill it out, then have a seat in the waiting room.
“I’d rather not sit down. I’ve been shot in the hindquarters.”
“Oh! Let me get the triage nurse to take a look.”
“Aren’t you a nurse?
“No. Just an intake professional.”
“Oh. You seemed blasé enough to be a nurse.”
She snorted. “I’ve seen it all from my little window, mister. I’ll get you in as soon as you fill out the form.”
“Do you think you could hurry? This thing hurts like a mutha.”
Nick felt good about his choice to come to the hospital rather than the police department. He might have been arrested for indecent exposure there. Now he was being treated like a normal naked guy who just happened to walk in with a gunshot wound in his tush.
The triage nurse came out to take a look at his butt, then asked him to follow her before he’d had a chance to fill out the form.
“I’d like to ask someone to call the cops for me. I need to report the bastards who shot me.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We report all gunshot wounds to the police. It’s New York State law. Sherry’s probably calling them now.”
“Efficient,” he said.
She didn’t follow up with any more conversation. Just led him to a room and instructed him to lie on the gurney, facedown, of course.
“Of course,” he said and took the prone position.
She peeled back the gown and said, “It looks like it’s stopped bleeding. When did this happen?”
“Ah…” What would sound realistic? “I don’t know. It was a while before I could locate the hospital, so a couple hours, at least.”
“I’m surprised you’re not moaning in pain.”
“Nah. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I’ll be back with the doctor. In the meantime, keep working on the form.”
He had laid the clipboard on the nearby table, so she handed it to him along with the pen and left him alone with his form.
Let’s see, do I want to give my real name? And what do I use for an address and date of birth? He had to think about that for a while. He and Konrad had been born on December 12, 1912. They had agreed on a more recent year to go with their looks, but was it time to update it? Did he look older than he had thirty years ago?
Crap. This is harder than I thought. He moved on, figuring he’d come back to that stuff. Next of kin. That was easy. He filled in Konrad’s name and phone number. Konrad was his only kin. Their parents, both human, had died long ago, and they’d lost track of any extended family they might have had. He and Konrad had been running away from home at age ten when they came across a pack shifting in the woods under the full moon.
The only reason the pack turned them instead of killing and eating them was because the alpha at the time had stopped them. Stop ruminating, and get the damn form finished.
Name of primary-care physician? None. Insurance? Self pay. Place of work? Self-employed. Okay, now back to the difficult questions.
A partial truth was always easier to admit to than a downright lie, so he wrote down his name as Nicholas Wolf. Close enough.
Again he thought of Brandee. Would she want to keep her maiden name, or would she want to become Mrs. Wolfensen like his sister-in-law Roz had? He shook his head as if to clear it. The crazy things I think about. She might not even want to speak to me when I finally get to talk to her.
Now they wanted his address. He couldn’t use his own. Maybe the bar? He almost laughed out loud as he pictured writing down Boston Uncommon as his address. They’d probably believe he belonged in an asylum since he’d walked in stark naked.
He fudged the rest of the form and hoped no one would check his facts until he was out of there. He signed his fake name with an illegible scrawl and stuck the pen into the gap at the top of the clipboard.
The nurse returned to take his blood pressure and temperature, start an IV, and check his wound again. It had already stopped bleeding, as she’d noted before. Maybe she just wanted another peek at his butt.
“The doctor will be here soon. Hang in there,” she said, and left.
The pain had settled into a dull throb. He hoped the doctor would be able to just dig it out right there in the emergency room instead of scheduling an operating room for the following day. By then, it would be too late.