Ninety miles north of Atlanta, Lincoln began to feel antsy. The flow of traffic had been good and there hadn’t been any delays, so he didn’t know why he suddenly felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin.
A quick glance at the console showed the truck had just under a half tank of gas. After checking the rear and side mirrors, Lincoln eased the vehicle into the far right lane.
Taking the next exit, he drove to the nearest gas station. Climbing out of the driver’s seat, he did a few stretches, filled up the tank and then walked inside the store. Not particularly hungry or thirsty, he purchased a package of chewing gum and a couple of magazines to read on the flight, then returned to the truck.
As he drove away from the pumps, his phone pinged with a text message, mostly likely from Angeline. He smiled because it felt really good to know someone actually missed him and eagerly anticipated his return.
Having had no contact with his parents since joining the Program, he had no idea if they remembered having a son. Or if they would be interested in knowing that they would soon be grandparents.
Lincoln’s parents were only children and he had no siblings. At least Dayax would grow up with cousins from Angeline’s side of the family.
Family.
The word resonated in his being.
For the longest time he’d believed having a family was well beyond his reach. Now one was within his grasp, all because of a photograph and a little twist of fate.
Instead of pulling onto the road, he parked in a spot near the air pump and vacuum station and picked up his phone. The alert showed a text from Damien. Lincoln swiped the screen to open the message.
A picture of Angeline appeared on the screen and Lincoln’s heart stopped. Lying on a dirty wooden floor, she appeared unconscious. A cloth had been stuffed into her mouth and silver-dipped zip ties bound her wrists and ankles. The silver collar fastened around her neck was attached to a long silver-coated wire connected to a nearby explosive device. When frightened and trapped, a wolfan’s natural instinct was to shift. But if Angeline transformed into her wolf, the silver would act as a conduit for the shift energy and ignite the bomb.
Lincoln called Damien’s phone. “Hurt her and I’ll rip out your throat,” he snarled.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Damien laughed. “Settle down, Capitán. If HQ knew you were threatening people, they might revisit your active duty status.”
“Where is she?”
“I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re asking about Angeline. Isn’t she working at Taylor’s tonight?”
“I’m not playing games with you, Marquez.”
“That’s too bad.” All the humor in Damien’s voice was gone. “Because right about now, you’re approximately halfway between Maico and Atlanta. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Lincoln hissed between clenched teeth.
“So, you get to choose between two outcomes. If you board that plane in Atlanta, you’ll save the boy and lose the girl. If you turn around and come back to Maico, you might save the girl, but will lose your chance to find the boy.”
Lincoln’s heart felt like it would split in two. How could he choose between Angeline and Dayax?
“Tick, tock. Tick, tock. You have two hours.”
“When I find you, I will kill you,” Lincoln shouted into the phone.
“I didn’t figure you would abandon your promise to the boy so quickly.” Damien’s heartless laugh made Lincoln cringe. “Then again, if your guardian angel dies, what happens to you?”
The line went dead.
Lincoln’s heart pounded furiously as fear unleashed a deluge of adrenaline into his system. His hands trembled so badly that he nearly dropped the phone while searching the contacts for Brice’s number. It took three tries before he managed to hit the call button.
“Damien has Angeline,” Lincoln shouted before his friend finished saying hello. “He’s tied her to a bomb and I only have two hours to find her!”
“I’ll mobilize the sentinels to track them,” Brice said calmly. “Where are you?”
“On I-75. I’m ninety minutes away.” Lincoln heard the panic in his own voice and some part of him believed this was all a dream. “He’s making me choose between Angeline and Dayax. If I miss the plane, I won’t make it to HQ in time to meet up with the team heading to Somalia. If I catch the plane, I’ll lose Angeline.”
Worse than the nightmare reliving the explosion inside the abandoned building in Somalia, this situation would likely kill him or some part of him. Because losing either Angeline or Dayax would leave a gaping wound in his soul.
“Do you know where he’s holding her?” Brice’s clear, level voice helped modulate Lincoln’s rising panic.
“No, but he sent a picture.”
“Text it to me. We’ll start looking as soon as the sentinels are gathered.”
“If they find her, tell them to not engage.” Swallowing the caustic lump lodged in his throat, he forwarded Brice the picture. “I’m coming to get her.”
He’d made the best decision in the midst of an awful circumstance, and it was the one he knew Damien expected him to make. Dogmen prioritized rescues based on the most eminent and immediate threat of danger. Angeline was tied to a bomb. Dayax had a hostage extraction team working to free him and the other children.
“I just received the picture. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Brice, get word to HQ. I’m not going to make the flight so the team will have to go without me. As soon as they make contact with Dayax, they need to tell him that they’re bringing him to me. Or he’ll run away at the first opportunity.” And Lincoln would likely never find him.
“Will do.”
Disconnecting the call, Lincoln focused his mind on the rote mantra he used to prepare for dangerous missions. Once all emotion had drained from his conscience, he slammed the gearshift into Drive and spun out of the parking lot with a singular thought.
Damien Marquez is a dead man.
Something hard and cold pressed against Angeline’s cheek. Opening her eyes, she saw a black snake coiled in the wake of a parallel sunbeam about six feet away.
Her startled gasp never left her throat because of the large wad of cottony material stuffed into her mouth and held in place with a strip of cloth tied around her head. Quickly, she visually scanned the room, at least what she could see from her angle, lying on the floor.
Neither seeing nor hearing Damien, Angeline tried to sit up. Since her wrists and ankles were bound behind her, it took several attempts before she was successful.
From the weight around her neck, she suspected Damien had collared her and the silver wire dangling down her chest and beneath her arm was some sort of leash.
Really?
She would’ve thought a Dogman would be more original in kidnapping a she-wolf. Her gaze followed the wire across the dusty floor to a strange device sitting in front of several gas cans.
Run!
Her instinct flew into panic mode. With her hands and feet tied, all Angeline could do was scoot away from what appeared to be a homemade bomb. The silver tether didn’t allow her to get far.
Normally, shifting would be her first response. The energy from the transformation disintegrated any material touching her skin. Except silver.
Changing into her wolf form wouldn’t free her but it certainly might kill her.
She tried to maneuver her legs and discovered that not only were her hands and feet tied behind her, they were also trussed together. Somehow, she had to find a way to get free.
A hidden knife inside her boot was the perfect solution. Too bad she’d scoffed at the idea when one of the human servers at Taylor’s suggested it. Why carry a knife when she could shift into a wolf and use her razor-sharp teeth? At the time she’d never considered a scenario in which a Dogman would kidnap her and chain her to an explosive device.
Think. Think. Think!
What would her father and brothers do?
Angeline huffed. They wouldn’t have gotten themselves into this situation.
She’d broken the first rule: never let your guard down. People like Damien were the reason for the rule. He’d gained her trust and, wham, used the Sleeper Move to incapacitate her.
Unable to do anything else, Angeline studied the room. The dusty windows were boarded up with old planks on the outside. The walls and floor were wood, termite-infested and rotten, from the looks of the panels. The huge door appeared to be solid oak, with rusty iron hinges, a doorknob and slider lock.
A hole in the baseboard at the far right corner of the room, might’ve been where the snake had entered. Using her knees to scoot around, she saw an old stone fireplace. Black marks scored the bottom of the pit and up the flue.
From what she could tell, Damien had dumped her in an old abandoned antebellum but she had no idea where this particular house was located. There were several throughout the area and Tristan knew each and every one. But Angeline had no way of contacting him. Even if she could, she had no idea how long she’d been out. Damien could’ve driven her anywhere, including right out of the Walker’s Run territory.
Damn! All the years she’d resented her father’s drive to make her tough, to make her capable, to make her just as hard-boiled as her brothers, now she understood why.
She fought against the restraints. The thin silver ties bit sharply into her skin but there was no give, no matter how hard she pulled. Exasperated, she roughly rubbed her cheek against her shoulder until she worked the gag loose and spit out the cloth.
Sharp pain shot through her jaw as she closed her mouth, the muscles in her face and neck sore from being forced open for an unknown period of time. With no moisture in her mouth, dry-swallowing felt like sharp barbs sliding down her throat.
Creaking boards distracted her from the pain. She attuned her ears to follow the sound of movement. Booted footfalls seemed to echo from different directions inside the house, as if someone was moving back and forth between rooms. Then silence.
Angeline tried to quiet her breathing in the eerie quiet. The sunbeam warming the snake faded. Slowly lifting its head, it stuck out a forked tongue to scent the air for danger.
The footfalls began again. This time in a linear path that seemed headed toward the door to Angeline’s prison. Her heart raced.
On her knees, with her hands and feet fastened together behind her back, she had no means of self-defense. She couldn’t even count on the snake, a black racer without the tiniest bit of poisonous venom.
Booted steps stalled at the door. The iron lock wiggled then turned. Slowly, the door creaked open and Damien stepped inside the room.
“Untie me, right now!” Angeline’s voice cracked from the dryness of her throat.
“I’m not in the business of taking orders.” His cold, dark gaze flickered over her.
“You’re a Dogman! You take orders all the time!”
Madness churned in the arctic depths of his fathomless eyes. “No and no. Not anymore.” His precise enunciation sliced the chilly air.
“What does that mean? You’re not a Dogman?” In her current predicament, Angeline figured it was best to keep him talking. Maybe she could find a way to reason with him and convince him to let her go.
“HQ’s quack doctors think I’m...” Damien tapped a finger against his temple. “I’m not. But they cut me from the Program anyway. So the answers to your questions are no and no.”
Oh, Angeline begged to differ. Damien might not be a Dogman now, but he definitely needed professional intervention.
“I don’t have any sway with the Program.” She softened her voice, hoping to lure him closer. “Why do this to me?”
“I don’t give a damn about the Program,” he snarled. “Not anymore.”
“Then what does this accomplish? Why have you rigged me to a bomb, Damien?”
He paced a wide berth around her. “Lincoln always believed in his guardian angel. The rest of us thought you were nothing more than one of those photo inserts found in new wallets. Turns out—” he shrugged “—you’re real. And you’re his true mate.”
Damien stopped in front of her, but far enough away that she couldn’t lunge forward to topple him. “That is why you’re here, Angel. Dogmen don’t have true mates.”
“Lincoln isn’t a Dogman anymore. He’s retiring.”
“Aww.” Damien squatted so he was eye level with her. “Is that what he told you?” His toxic laughter made her flinch. “Here’s the truth. Captain Lincoln Adams is part of a team headed to Somalia and his mission is to extract hostages from the rebels’ camp.”
“You’re lying.” Lincoln promised he wouldn’t be in danger, promised he was only signing paperwork and then would bring Dayax home.
“I have no reason to lie,” Damien said. “I already have you here and my plan has been set in motion. Lying serves me no purpose.”
“Except to hurt me.”
Damien’s mouth twisted into a grotesque smile. “That’s what the bomb is for, Angel.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Never heard you object to Lincoln saying it.”
“You’re not Lincoln!”
Damien’s creepy smile faded as he replaced her gag. “And you’re no angel. I checked.” He waggled his hands. “No wings.”
What she was, was a pissed off she-wolf. And the moment she got loose, Angeline would show him how much of an angel she wasn’t, using nothing but her bared teeth.