“By the willow tree that—Renny,” Melanie yelled. “Get your ass back here. You can’t go rushing into the swamp like that. You’re human. You won’t be able to defend yourself.”
The truth hit hard, and Renny stumbled to a halt. She whirled, tears streaming down her cheeks. The pure anguish she displayed was something Caleb well understood. Pain was a close companion, but he couldn’t give in to his pain right now. Yes, he was chilled to the bone by what might be happening to his son. He was devastated he’d not protected Renny from this. But he was also calm and clearheaded. Not a single shake in his hands, his breathing regular.
Panic had no place right now. The man he used to be stood straight as Renny cried, “I don’t care if I don’t have a weapon. That’s my son in there, and he needs me.”
And Renny needed him. Caleb strode to her, making every effort to appear non-threatening, as he did not want her to bolt. Melanie was right. The swamp wouldn’t prove kind to his delicate woman. Only the foolish—or desperate—went off into the swamp without a weapon or a plan.
Sensing she was ready to flee, he resorted to words since he wasn’t in reach. “What happened to your theory that said he might be playing hide and go seek?”
“I lied. Something’s wrong. I feel it, feel it in here.” Renny thumped her stomach.
Funny how she pinpointed the spot he felt a twinge, too. The gut always knew.
“You’re probably right. Things don’t look too good,”—Great pep talk so far. Why not make her face blanch further?—“but I will promise you one thing.” As he got close to her, he reached out to grasp her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll find him.” Fucking right I’ll find him, even it’s the last thing I do.
“We’ll find him.”
He shook his head. “I can’t risk you getting hurt. Melanie’s right. How would you defend yourself? Make a slingshot out of your bra?” He forced a wan smile, but Renny simply stared at him. Eyes brimming, lips trembling.
Heartbreaking. Fix this.
With one last press of fingers, he let her go and went to walk past Renny. As if she’d let him go.
She grabbed his arm and held him until he faced her. “I have to go with you. He needs me.”
“Duh, he needs you,” Melanie said with a roll of her eyes. As they’d talked, she’d marched herself and the boys over. “You should go, but take this with you.”
This being a gleaming gun, redolent with fresh oil, that Melanie pulled out of an oversized purse.
What was more disturbing? The fact that Melanie carried a loaded weapon along with a sealed container of green grapes or that Renny grabbed it, popped it open to take a peek at how it was loaded, then armed it. Click.
There went his argument and his resolve.
“Let’s go,” Renny said.
He might have argued, but Renny was armed with a gun and looked ready to use it. Was it worth wasting a breath asking her to stay with Melanie while he looked? Nope. She’d never listen, not with Luke in danger.
Just like he would never hold back.
“Try and keep up, baby.” Caleb ran for the rear of the building, outpacing Renny. His fingers—perfectly steady and adept—slipped buttons from loops and loosed his belt so that, when he hit the edge of the swamp, he could shed that fabric layer and, in the moment before he ducked under the concealing fronds of the weeping willow, take his other shape.
No hesitation. Not this time.
A hunter was needed. A killer, too, because not only was Caleb planning to return with his son, he was also making sure the threat was eliminated once and for all.
Skin stretched, limbs reshaped, and during the process, he heard Renny’s jogging steps, but he didn’t spare her a thought. Other things preoccupied his mind.
As his claws dug into moist dirt, he opened all his senses. His sensory spots absorbed and sifted the very flavor of the air.
A vivid tableau comprised of scents was painted. So many definite elements, layered and interwoven among each other. Amongst the fetid stench of the beast was the purer innocence of his son. He smelled fear, the sharp acrid tang of a child frightened.
The oddity, though, was how the smell of the creature suddenly appeared. Caleb found no tracks to show how it got there. Could locate no trail to follow, and yet, the beast had been here, been here, and had taken his son.
Maybe he’d missed something. He inhaled deep, as deep as he could, and then sifted the results.
The odors of the swamp permeated the air, nothing strange about that. However, he did note another reptilian scent, a predator. Wes.
They went this way.
Not far, though. He could see where the footprints stopped. At the murky edge of the water.
Water that Renny shouldn’t swim in, but she was beyond reason.
Intent on her goal—save Luke—she brushed past him and slogged in the liquid, arms above her head to keep the pistol dry, but vulnerable to anything that hid in the murky depths, and what about when they hit deeper water? How would she stay afloat or defend herself?
Yet he knew she’d never stay behind—not unless she was bound tight—and there wasn’t a boat or anything she could use as a…