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Emerson didn't know much about magic. The inhuman energies that he'd inherited from his ogre mother were limited to things like his size and his physical strength. But he was starting to think Sam was right about Fin's luck magic. It might be a little...unpredictable.
He woke up while they were still bumping along in the bed of a modified pickup truck. He kept his eyes closed and ran the probable specs for the hybrid engine the truck probably contained through his head, picturing circuit boards and wires, conversion mechanisms, and projected RPMs. He wasn't big into engines—electronics were more his thing—but it was all he could think of to keep himself from panicking.
The creeps who took them had probably underestimated the amount of drug to administer to a half-ogre, since his kind were incredibly rare. Most ogre parents would just eat their non-ogre offspring. He wasn't just stupidly big, he also tended to metabolize things quickly. And even though he was big, he was heavier than he looked. So, they probably got the weight ratio off. He was lucky they hadn't overcompensated and killed him by accident.
Why the unsanctioned group hadn't just killed the three of them, Emerson had no idea. It would have been easier. Would have made more sense, in Emerson's mind. But then, he had no idea what kind of games politicians and people who hired assassins played at. He preferred circuit boards and cold metal mechanisms to people.
People were always so confusing. They never acted the way they should. That was one good thing about full ogre fiends—the only good thing. They were almost as predictable as machines, ruled by the very basic fight, feed, and fuck impulses, and no higher thoughts to gum up the works. Thanks to his human genes, Emerson had to be cursed with thoughts, and feelings. It made things so much harder.
The truck slowed down and bumped to a stop. His heart rate kicked up, thrumming so loud in his own ears that it almost drowned out the rest of the world. They were stopped. He was awake. He needed to do something. But what? He wasn't like Sam. He didn't know how to plan an escape, or how to act on the spur of the moment.
First, he had to figure out where Fin and Sam were. After that...he had no clue.
That was when he recalled Sam's words right before the drug kicked in. He knew Sam had reasons for the way she acted. But those words still stung. Fin had tricked Sam into forming a guild with them. Fin and Emerson were new to all of this. And Sam had to teach them, like a couple of kids. She would have every right to feel burdened. To want to get rid of them the first chance she got.
But Sam wasn't as cold as everyone thought. Sure, she was ruthless sometimes, when she had to be. But it was usually for a good reason. She had wanted the guys that held them to think she hated him and Fin and didn't care what happened to them. It hurt, more than it should. But there was a reason, he knew there was. And that meant Sam had a plan.
What was Emerson's part in that plan? Should he get up and try to fight? Lay low until he knew what was going on? He listened to the men around him complain about the drive and needing to take a leak.
"We'll need to re-dose them before we head out again," a rough voice muttered nearby. "If we're even going to deliver them out east. Be a damned sight easier to just get rid of them now."
Emerson's whole body went tense.
"I say we put a few bullets in 'em and dump 'em. Fiends will take care of the rest, this far from town."
The voices moved off, and more joined them, but it sounded like the whole group was slowly working its way round to just murdering them and being done with it.
Emerson took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. He turned his head in small increments, in case someone was left behind to watch them. Fin was lying next to him, limbs flung out, breathing slow and deep, still drugged. More careful head turns. They were alone in the bed of the truck. No Sam.
His chest clenched. Where was Sam? Had they already gotten rid of her? Emerson eased himself up into a sitting position, his heart thundering, tensed and waiting for someone to see him and start yelling. It was still dark, but he had no idea if any of the curs in the group had night vision.
When no one called out, he shifted to a crouch. His whole body felt like pins and needles, but he managed. Looking around, he was shocked to see this was the only vehicle—a long-box truck with a crew cab that was just big enough for two unconscious captives and a handful of goons.
Sam.... Tears filled his eyes and he angrily dashed them away with the back of his hand. Now wasn't the time to be the weak baby everyone always accused him of being. Ogres weren't supposed to have emotions. Big, strong, and unfeeling. That was what he was supposed to be. What he wished he was, just this once. Because he didn't know how he was going to get them out of this otherwise.
Sucking in a breath, he tried to get his bearings. They had stopped along an abandoned stretch of the dwindling road. There was a little bit of scrubby undergrowth along the edge of the road, and a rough-looking shack—probably a hideout of sorts—where the men had disappeared to relieve themselves or get food. Otherwise it was a lonely stretch of bleak nothing inhabited by the-Gods-knew-what kind of fiends. But he'd have to take the chance, because they probably wouldn't get another one.
Why no one had stayed with the truck, he didn't understand. Maybe they thought their captives didn't need watching, since they were sedated. Or...maybe Fin's luck charm was still holding.
Emerson gently scooped the leprechaun up in his arms and cradled Fin’s little body to his chest as he clambered out of the truck bed. Sam's absence was like a big, black hole in his chest, but at least he could do something for Fin. The little guy had been the first friend Emerson made in Westhold. The first person in a long time to see more to him than just a big, dumb oaf. He'd pushed Emerson to try to expand his horizons, made it feel like it might be possible to have a life worth living one day. Like he could be useful, good at something that mattered.
Emerson wasn't going to let anything happen to Fin if he could help it. Even if all he could do was hustle him away and serve as a meat shield when their captors noticed and started shooting. He rounded the front of the truck and hurried toward a cluster of tumbleweeds that would at least give them some barrier against being discovered. But as he came around the truck and headed toward the bushes, a guy emerged from that same brush screen. Probably the one who should have been watching the truck the whole time.
The guy froze in surprise when he saw the captives up and moving. Then he stopped pulling up his zipper and went for the gun at his hip instead. Emerson panicked. Lashing out, he kicked the guy in the leg. The sickening crunch of bones snapping made him wince. The guy shouted in pain and Emerson scrambled to shut him up before the others heard, if they hadn't already. He spun, bringing his elbow up against the side of the guy's head. Another nasty crack, and the guy went silent, slumping to the ground.
Emerson swallowed back bile. He'd felt the guy's skull cave in. Learning about fiend hunting was one thing, but this...he'd just killed a person.
He clutched Fin to his chest and darted behind the bushes. But the other men were already running their way. And there was nowhere else to hide. Just miles and miles of barren, open wasteland, and a half-moon that would make them perfect targets.
Someone shouted in alarm and Emerson glanced down the road, where most of the goons were now staring. He couldn't see that well in the dark, so it took him a bit to be able to make out a big black shape moving on the road. Then he heard the pretty purr of a high-powered, well-maintained engine that probably cost more money than he'd see in his entire lifetime. The car was barely a shadow. And it was coming so fast it was terrifying.
The men scrambled to get out of the road. One guy jumped behind the wheel of the truck and started it up. A couple others stood at the roadside with weapons drawn. And two more crept toward where Emerson crouched with his friend in his arms.
The car slowed but didn't stop. A door opened and the car roared on past them. Then it skidded to a halt, blocking the road, so the truck would have to drive off the dwindling two-track and around a bunch of boulders to get around it. Two massive guys in suits emerged from the car, guns leveled on the goons.
"What the fuck?" one of the unsanctioned yelled. Emerson glanced that way to see someone standing in the road behind the truck. The tall, slender figure approached, and Emerson's eyes almost bugged out of his head. Sam. It was Sam. The moonlight glinted on the blue and white strands nestled in her jet-black hair, and he thought he saw a hint of wicked fangs flashing as she raised a big-assed gun and rested it on her shoulder.
"Is that a fucking rocket launcher?" one of the unsanctioned hissed.
There was a grunt of pain, and a scuffle broke out by the truck. The two big guys in suits had just taken down two of the goons. One of the guys who had been stalking toward Emerson turned and ran for the truck, yanking the door open and jumping into the passenger seat as the driver decided to turn the truck around and haul ass back the way they'd come.
Sam wasn't cowed by the vehicle hurdling straight toward her.
"Where is my guild," she yelled.
One of the big, suited guys hollered back. "Not in the truck."
The truck was almost on her. Sam just spread her legs, planted her feet, and fired her rocket launcher.
Emerson had never seen anything like it in his life. The truck lifted off the ground and spun as it exploded, slamming back down against a large boulder a few hundred feet from the road.
Rich laughter carried on the night as Sam paced toward the rest of them. "That was fucking awesome," she called to the big suited guys. "You guys get to play with toys like this all the time?"
Holy hell, Sam was the hottest person he'd ever met in his life. Terrifying. Insane. But so hot.
One of the suited guys shook his head. "Crazy-assed cur." But his voice seemed friendly, rather than mocking.
Somehow, Emerson forgot about the other gang guy who had been creeping toward him. The one with the eye patch. Something cold and hard pressed against Emerson's temple. "Don't fucking move, or the green mountain's brain's go splat!" the guy yelled out.
Emerson could hear Sam's growl even from where he was still crouched in the bushes. "You fucking touch him and I'll rip your guts out through your asshole and feed them to you, you piece of steaming dragon shit!"
Gods, Emerson loved that cat shifter. Even if he was pretty sure he was about to wet himself. The gun against his temple was shaking, and it was pretty likely the guy holding it was going to accidentally pull the trigger out of fear.
"Back the fuck off!" the guy demanded.
Then chaos erupted. Someone hit the guy from behind, making him stumble forward. Sam was suddenly there, knocking the gun out of his hand and launching herself at the guy, taking him to the ground with her fangs flashing and her light blue eyes glowing almost white. She even had fluffy white cat ears. One hand arrowed at the guy's shoulder, stabbing long claws into his flesh, pinning him. The other wrapped around the guy's neck, claws curling in, just shy of ripping his throat out. "I said," Sam growled in a voice that wasn't human. "Don't fucking touch him."
"Sam," a cultured voice said from nearby. "I need at least some of them alive for questioning. I can hardly gather information and make examples if I don't have any living bodies."
Sam just growled and squeezed the guy's neck harder, making his one eye bulge and his heels drum against the dirt. He was a cur too, but it looked like Sam’s rage made her stronger.
The human politician came to stand next to Emerson, who was still crouching. "Would you mind handling that?" he said, eyes on Emerson.
Emerson stood, but looked at the human in confusion. "What do you expect me to do?"
The guy tucked his hands into his long, fancy coat and raised an eyebrow at him. "Go show the beast that its mates are unharmed."
Emerson felt his own eyes go wide at that. Mates? Plural. Well, that was an awkward misunderstanding. "I'm not—"
But the smaller guy cut him off, gesturing impatiently. "Before Sam kills my resources, please."
Emerson shook his head and shuffled closer to Sam, kneeling down so he could look her in the eyes. "Uh. Sam? Can you not kill that guy, please?" He held out his arms, showing Sam a still mostly unconscious Fin. The leprechaun groaned and clenched his eyes shut even tighter, still not quite awake.
"See? Fin's okay. He's just asleep. But he'll wake up soon. Your...uh...mate is okay." Emerson didn't know much about shifters and the whole mating bond thing, but maybe Sam really was imprinted on Fin.
Glowing white eyes traveled over Fin, then studied Emerson's face. "You're okay?"
He nodded. "Sure. Sore and sleepy is all. We'll be fine. I'm...kinda sick of watching people die though. Can we go home?"
Sam released the goon and stood. Then she bent and yanked a knife from the belt at his waist and rammed it into her leg sheath. Pausing, she turned back to kick the guy in the ribs just for good measure. "Should rip out your other eye, asshole."
The guy groaned, but didn't make any move to get up. The two big guys came and yanked him up, securing him with some kind of warded handcuffs. Then they took him and the other two living thugs and stuffed them into the trunk of the car.
It looked really cramped in there. But Emerson didn't feel bad for them. Much.
Emerson got Fin in the back of the weird armored car, then turned to Sam. The shifter had reverted back to human form, and she swayed on her feet. It was only then that he had time to take in the bandage wrapped around her thigh and the blood staining her pants.
"Catch," a cultured voice said from behind him, undercurrents of humor flitting through the sound.
Emerson didn't question the order, just caught Sam in his arms as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted.
He turned to the human politician to find the guy giving him a wry smile. "The hunter really will go to stunning lengths to save people. Couldn't rest until her mates were safe."
Emerson looked down at Sam's pretty face, noting the dark shadows under her long lashes. "Mate. Just one. Fin's a lucky guy. Maybe all that luck magic he's always going on about really does work on him after all."
The human's blue eyes glinted with something that shouldn't be there. A spark of light that flared out as soon as it appeared. "Hmm... perhaps. But I think you underestimate your own good fortune, ogre."
Emerson didn't understand what the guy was getting at. And his head was starting to hurt too much for him to care. "Can we go home now?"
The human put a hand on Emerson's arm and steered him toward the car. "It will be a bit tight with all of us, but with this darling," he said, caressing the side of the car, "we'll be home in no time."
Emerson watched the guy warily. Something about Theo put him on edge. He wasn't sure he trusted this guy at all. And Emerson liked everyone. His gullibility was one of his biggest weaknesses. So, if he was doubting this guy, then something was probably really wrong. He needed to keep an eye on the human.