N. Walters - Quinn's Quest

Michael dropped his hand by his side and continued on. Quinn turned back around and kept walking. Once again she was completely dismissed. She watched as the men and Meredith disappeared down the road, circling a rundown building. It was three stories high, but Bethany would bet anything that if Chrissten and her captors were there, they’d be in the basement. Less chance of her escaping from there.

A shiver coursed down her spine and she prayed they weren’t too late to find Chrissten.

“Keep your fucking hands off my woman,” Quinn warned Michael as he came alongside.

“Or what?” Michael shrugged. “For a newly mated female she didn’t look very happy. You didn’t even speak to her before you left.”

Quinn felt guilty about that, but he was trying to do what was right. She was too gentle for him, too kind-hearted. In spite of everything she’d been through, there was an air of innocence about her that drew him even as he knew he didn’t deserve to touch such a prize.

“What’s between Bethany and me is private. You stay the fuck away from her.”

As much as he didn’t deserve her, he didn’t want Michael to have her either. He couldn’t bear the thought of another male holding her in his arms, kissing her, discovering what made her sigh and what made her scream with pleasure.

He was totally fucked up.

A low growl broke from his chest and he began to sweat. His wolf was snarling inside him, ready to pounce on anyone who touched his mate.

He shook his head and focused his attention on the building ahead of him. He’d deal with the problems between him and Bethany later. Right now, all that mattered was his sister.

According to Damek, she was inside. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch her scent. Nothing.

Beside him, Michael did the same.

Hank prowled ahead, taking the point. The man moved swiftly and quietly, becoming one with the shadows. Isaiah was just behind him with Meredith by his side. Benjamin and Kevin brought up the rear.

The silent, deadly group began to move in on the building. Quinn said a prayer of hope as he eased in through a broken window. He inhaled and caught a musky scent. Not his sister, but definitely a wolf. They were on the right track.

Hope flared in his chest, but he tamped it down. He’d been disappointed too many times before. He wouldn’t celebrate until he had Chrissten safe.

Beside him, Michael pointed toward a stairway to their left. It went down. That was good enough for him. He knew they’d most likely be in the basement even though the entire building would have to be checked.

The two of them eased down the narrow stairs. He took the lead. Both of them had 9mms in their hands. Isaiah had given them the weapons before they’d left the bar with the instructions to shoot to kill. Not that Quinn needed any instruction. He was good at killing.

Regular bullets wouldn’t kill a werewolf, but the ones in these guns were specially coated in silver and would slowly poison any werewolf if they weren’t immediately removed. They weren’t messing around and taking the chance of letting any rogue werewolves escape. These males had kidnapped a female and had to pay for their actions.

But the guns were to be used only as a last resort. The sound of gunfire would be heard from the street and they didn’t want to attract unwanted attention from the authorities. That wouldn’t help anyone.

Dust stirred the air around them, tickling Quinn’s nose. He strained his ears, trying to hear a sound. Something. Anything.

The place felt deserted.

A lump of dread practically closed his throat. He tightened his grip on his weapon and turned the corner at the bottom of the wooden stairs, keeping his back to the wall. Behind him, Michael followed, silent and ready.

A slight stirring of the air had Quinn whirling to the left, gun raised and ready. Hank held up his hand and pointed to the right. Damn, the guy was silent when he moved. He looked more like a soldier than any of them with his short-cropped hair and icy blue eyes. He exuded a deadly sense of determination.

Quinn was suddenly overwhelmed by the support these people had given him. Without even knowing Chrissten, they were ready to lay their lives down for her.

Hank ghosted by him and headed down a narrow hallway. He kept his back to the wall, searching each room as he went by to make sure it was clear.

Quinn moved up beside Hank, keeping his eyes and weapon trained ahead of them while Michael watched their backs. Most of the rooms were dirty and largely empty. But several showed signs of usage. There was a table and some lab equipment. The remainders of a meal. A cot with a sleeping bag tossed on it.

On the immediate right of the corridor was a door with a lock. Quinn’s heart leapt when he saw the shiny new lock lying on the floor amid the dirt and dust of years.

He leapt toward the door and flung it open. Several blankets were heaped on the floor. He stumbled toward them and fell to his knees. He fisted his hands in the thin material and held it to his face. He could smell his sister.

Behind him, Hank was still, but Quinn knew he was there. He looked up at the other male. “We missed them.”

Hank said nothing, but Quinn could feel his quiet fury.

Michael stuck his head in the room. “They’re not long gone. There’s a coffeepot in the next room and it’s still warm.”

Quinn jumped to his feet and raced from the room. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He took the stairs three at a time with Hank and Michael behind him. While Michael took the time to call out to the others, Quinn and Hank hit the street.

“You go right,” he told Hank. The other male took off without hesitation, like a bloodhound on hunt.

Quinn went left, sniffing the air as he went. If he could only catch her scent. Or even that of the other male. His heart was racing and there was a roaring in his head. He was so close.

He could hear the others pouring from the building and fanning out to search. He kept his gaze on his surroundings, scanning, looking for anything that might lead him to his sister. Several homeless people slept beneath a makeshift cardboard lean-to. Another huddled by a dumpster desperately trying not to be noticed.

It was difficult to try and pull Chrissten’s scent from the air, which was filled with the exhaust from vehicles, garbage from the dumpsters and the stench of human urine, sweat and vomit. City smells. He could pass within a dozen feet of his sister and possible miss her.

His chest tightened even as he fought his growing despair. He couldn’t lose her. Not this time.

A white van whizzed by the top of an alleyway. Quinn ran toward it, legs pumping, but it was gone before he could catch it. He managed to catch part of the license plate. Maybe it was nothing, but he’d have Craig check it out later.

He was about to turn back down the alley when a scream echoed in his head. He jerked around as panic flooded through him. Bethany . She was in danger.

The mating link between them flared to life like a warning system. He knew she didn’t know how to use it, how to reach out to him. He’d closed the mental door between them when she’d asked him to, but that didn’t matter. Her terror broke down the barrier and reached through to him, galvanizing him to action.

Nostrils flaring, blood pumping, he raced toward the vehicles where he’d left her, praying he wasn’t about to lose another woman he loved. His search for his sister had taken him away from Bethany rather than toward her.

He heard them before he saw them. Bethany’s scream chilled his blood and Craig’s yell had him pushing himself past his limits. His lungs burned and his muscles strained and still he drove harder. He had to get to his family. Had to protect his mate and his brother.