What of a raft?
He was horrified at the idea his croc projected, and had he been in charge, he might have vetoed it, but his beast was driving at the moment. His reptile floated alongside Renny, back straight and partially out of the water.
No way will my croc let Renny ride him. Nor should she. Forget the indignity, what if my beast gets hungry and thinks she’d make a nice treat?
The disgust his reptile radiated actually managed to shame him. In that one emotional outburst from his other half, Caleb had a shining moment where he understood something truly important. My beast cares for them, too.
Renny was their mate. Luke was their son.
Even cold-blooded predators didn’t eat family. Okay, so maybe some did, but apparently no one ever proved that leaked cookbook belonged to the Mercers and that Aunt Tanya’s rump roast was anything more than it seemed.
While Caleb grasped his croc’s intent, Renny needed a minute or so to figure it out. It took a few bumps of his snout to snag her attention.
“What do you want?” she asked, looking quite cross.
The big reptile moved ahead then across, blocking her with his body.
“What are you doing, Cal?” She cocked her head while asking.
Cal? Had she finally chosen a nickname for him? Ugh, his croc grunted as a spurt of warmth made Caleb mentally grin.
Pay attention, his croc snapped.
His beast was right. He should exult in it later. Speed was of the essence, which meant Renny needed to get her ass on his back so he could get moving. By now, the thing that had taken his son could be anywhere.
But there is nowhere that can hide him.
I will find my son.
Another head butt against Renny and she thankfully grasped his plan. Reaching over him, she grabbed hold and heaved herself on. With one hand doing its best to grip, the other he assumed holding the gun since he could still smell the oil used to lubricate the metal, he set off on a glide.
Which direction, though?
The scent of the creature had disappeared at the water’s edge. Had it dove? Fuck no, not with Luke in its grasp.
And it wasn’t just fatherly hope that prayed against that scenario. The evidence wasn’t there. The rushes of weeds springing upward showed only one disturbance, and that one belonged exclusively to Wes, the lingering scent and disturbance of the fronds a message relayed to the sensory spots along his jaw.
Wes came through here, but the creature and Luke didn’t.
But the footsteps ended at the water’s edge. A body of water that held no trace of them. So where had they gone? There were no trees for them to climb, no signs of a boat or other floating device. A crazier man might wonder if they’d taken to the air. Impossible for a lizard.
Even one with possible wings? He couldn’t help but recall that disturbing video.
If it can fly, though, then it could be anywhere. How could he track something that could take to the air currents and bypass all of the obstacles? Perhaps leave the swamp entirely.
“Where did it take Luke?” Renny murmured from his back. “How will we find him?”
The hopelessness in her tone crushed his heart.
I know where to go.
The man might wonder where to look, but his beast instinctively seemed to know.
Our son.
Did a link truly exist between him and Luke? Was that tickle he felt in his heart more than just trepidation?
Stop yapping or I’ll eat something squishy. His croc threatened a mental image Caleb could have done without.
Powerful body undulating in the water, his croc made toward the horizon, where an amber-red sun set. Funny how once his beast had chosen a direction, Caleb noted it was where the tug in his gut led.
It took his reptile and Renny over deep water, his large presence scattering those who feared becoming dinner.
Later. His croc grinned in the water, and Caleb groaned.
Must you do that?
I’m hungry was the snarky reply.
However much his beast side teased, he didn’t delay and made a beeline—or should that be crocoline?—toward a rocky hillock, a bramble-covered thumb sticking out of the water.
Thorny Point, a place long avoided by children and adults alike because of the wicked barbed bushes. It had also been ignored by him and Wes during their search because it lacked the right kind of scent.
No scent usually meant no prey, so they never went ashore. But if the creature could fly? A glance upwards didn’t reveal anything, but he still had to stop and take a look.
We might be wasting time.
But what if this is the place?
What if it’s not?
He swam around the thrusting rocks, wondering if his gut led him astray. A good thing he stuck around, too, because what the senses didn’t smell, the ears heard.
A whimper. A little boy whimper.