Vicki Thompson: Werewolf in Alaska

Her captors, and she was reasonably sure that was the right term for the two men in front, were taking her somewhere, but why? For ransom? She supposed that her parents would pay to get her back, but her net worth was greater than theirs. A smart person would kidnap her parents and make her pay up.

Maybe she was in the hands of idiots, never a good thing. Well, it could be a good thing. If she could outsmart them, she could get away.

She went back over the events that had led to this situation to try to make sense of it. She’d left Jake’s cabin in quite an emotional state. Then, as she’d walked down the path to her place, she’d felt that psychic connection with him. They’d reaffirmed their love for each other. So far, so good.

On the way into her house, she’d decided to go straight out to the workshop and use her art to soothe her raw emotions. But she hadn’t done that because someone—one of these two thugs in the front, no doubt—had grabbed her and knocked her out with a nasty-smelling hankie. While she was unconscious, they’d put her in this vehicle and driven away from her cabin.

Although she wasn’t happy with her next conclusion, she admitted this probably had something to do with werewolves who didn’t trust her as much as Jake did. Shit. If that was the case, she needed to gather information before they threw her in the grimy dungeon she’d imagined.

Anyone who’d watched movies that featured dungeons knew that once the iron door slammed, you got zero information. Your keepers were sadistic cretins who spoke in monosyllables and enjoyed watching you suffer. Your only friend would be the tiny spider in the corner of your cell.

Sitting up a little straighter in the seat, she noted that they had not belted her in. She rectified that oversight. Her throat was dry, but she worked up enough spit to talk without sounding like Golem. “Where are you taking me?” That was the classic kidnap victim question from all the B movies, but she really wanted to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” said the brown-haired, beefy fellow in the passenger seat.

“Because you’re going to kill me?” She didn’t think so, but it didn’t hurt to ask. If they’d wanted to kill her, she’d be dead by now and her body would be in an unmarked grave.

“Oh, no,” said the driver, who was equally muscular but had reddish hair. “You’ve got it made. You’re headed for a penthouse in a Vancouver high-rise.”

“Vancouver, BC? Are we driving all that way?”

“Yes, ma’am, we are.” The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. His shades made him look quite forbidding. “Karl and I will be trading off so we don’t have to stop along the way.”

“That’s insane. It’s a really long way.”

The driver shrugged. “It’s not so bad.” He checked the time on his cell phone, tucked in a holder on the dash. “We’ve already logged in almost an hour. With no complications, we could make it in late tomorrow night or early the next morning.”

Rachel wasn’t about to spend two days with these goons, who were most certainly werewolves if they were cool with driving straight through to Vancouver. Nobody did that. But they’d have to let her get out of the car to use public restrooms during this marathon trip, and that’s when she’d get away.

“Oh, and so you don’t waste time dreaming up your escape,” the brown-haired one named Karl said, “you’ll only be allowed to leave this car for one reason, and we brought a little camping potty along for that purpose. Mitch and I would catch hell if you climbed out a bathroom window and got away.”

Damn. So she hadn’t been captured by idiots, after all. That would make escape more difficult, but she’d be watching for every opportunity.

In the meantime, she’d pretend that she’d accepted her fate, so they might relax their vigilance. “So what happens once you deliver me to this penthouse?”

“You live in the lap of luxury—that’s what,” Karl said. “Great view, terrific food, luxurious surroundings.”

“What’s the catch?”

“The usual thing. You can never leave.”

Panic threatened to close her throat and make her choke. She couldn’t be confined like that. Maybe someone, a Howard Hughes type, would be thrilled with such a setup. But for her, it would be like being dead.

As a prisoner in a penthouse, she wouldn’t be able to work. She’d be cut off from her family and friends. She’d have life, but nothing worth living for. Considering that, she might as well be in a dungeon where she was fed maggot-infested bread.

But she wouldn’t end up in this penthouse. By now, Lionel would have come over and found her missing. He’d sound the alarm. Maybe not right away, because he might think she was over at Jake’s, but eventually he’d try to find out where she was.

She cleared her throat. “You realize that people will come looking for me. I have friends and family. I have wealthy clients. They’ll try to find me.” And that wasn’t counting Jake. But before she tried to summon him telepathically, she wanted more info. “This isn’t going to work the way you think it will.”

“Yeah, it will,” said Mitch, the driver. “It seems you left a note saying you were headed off to Idaho and a new life with Jake Hunter. You turned your place and your workshop over to Lionel.”

“What note? I didn’t write a note!”

“No, but the note is in your handwriting,” Karl said.

Mitch glanced at his traveling companion. “I’m not sure you should be telling her all that. Especially after the phone call we got a little while ago regarding you know who.”

“Look, the note bought us time. All we needed was a chance to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“I guess.”

“We have a head start. You and I are the only ones who were told the ultimate destination, so we’re golden.” Karl turned toward the backseat. “Your future is in Vancouver, sweetheart. Just accept that and move on.”

Rachel wasn’t accepting a damned thing, but fighting with Karl and Mitch would waste precious energy. She was beginning to get the picture now. The Hunters were more than emissaries who wanted to recruit Jake as their new alpha. That might have been one of their goals, but the other was getting her out of the way.

The sample of her handwriting had probably been her original note to Jake. The Hunters had gotten hold of it somehow. Then she had a horrible thought, the worst one yet.

Had Jake known about this plan? No, surely not. She couldn’t believe that he would have agreed to it. If he’d betrayed her so completely, then . . . He wouldn’t have. She refused to think he was capable of such treachery.

And if he hadn’t known about this, then it was time she told him. Naturally the werewolves had taken away her cell phone, but she had a secret weapon, one they wouldn’t even know she was using.

• • •

“You might think I’ve gone off the deep end,” Jake said to Lionel. “But I’m going to—”

“Listen, if you have to take your clothes off for this, then okay, but I’ll have to leave while you do that.”

“No, I’m not planning to get naked.”

“Good.” Lionel pushed his hair off his forehead. “That’s a relief, Mr. Hunter.”

“I’m going into the cabin to get that wolf carving off her mantel.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lionel followed him out of the workshop. “You mean the carving you ditched. I thought that was the craziest move I’d ever heard of. Do you know what that thing is probably worth?”

“If touching it focuses my thoughts on her and we can connect easier, then it’s priceless.”

“You have a point there.”

Jake took the steps to her deck two at a time. Ever since deciding to connect with her, he’d been trying to get the same sense he’d had earlier this morning, when they’d sent their thoughts to each other with such perfect clarity. He was relieved that something seemed to be happening now. When he thought of her, he didn’t get the feeling of dead air between them, thank God. But he was picking up a lot of static.