Croc's Return (20 page)

She grabbed his arm and held him until he faced her. “I have to go with you. He needs me.”

“Duh, he needs you,” Melanie said with a roll of her eyes. As they’d talked, she’d marched herself and the boys over. “You should go, but take this with you.”

This being a gleaming gun, redolent with fresh oil, that Melanie pulled out of an oversized purse.

What was more disturbing? The fact that Melanie carried a loaded weapon along with a sealed container of green grapes or that Renny grabbed it, popped it open to take a peek at how it was loaded, then armed it.
Click
.

There went his argument and his resolve.

“Let’s go,” Renny said.

He might have argued, but Renny was armed with a gun and looked ready to use it. Was it worth wasting a breath asking her to stay with Melanie while he looked? Nope. She’d never listen, not with Luke in danger.

Just like he would never hold back.

“Try and keep up, baby.” Caleb ran for the rear of the building, outpacing Renny. His fingers—perfectly steady and adept—slipped buttons from loops and loosed his belt so that, when he hit the edge of the swamp, he could shed that fabric layer and, in the moment before he ducked under the concealing fronds of the weeping willow, take his other shape.

No hesitation. Not this time.

A hunter was needed. A killer, too, because not only was Caleb planning to return with his son, he was also making sure the threat was eliminated once and for all.

Skin stretched, limbs reshaped, and during the process, he heard Renny’s jogging steps, but he didn’t spare her a thought. Other things preoccupied his mind.

As his claws dug into moist dirt, he opened all his senses. His sensory spots absorbed and sifted the very flavor of the air.

A vivid tableau comprised of scents was painted. So many definite elements, layered and interwoven among each other. Amongst the fetid stench of the beast was the purer innocence of his son. He smelled fear, the sharp acrid tang of a child frightened.

The oddity, though, was how the smell of the creature suddenly appeared. Caleb found no tracks to show how it got there. Could locate no trail to follow, and yet, the beast had been here, been here, and had taken his son.

Maybe he’d missed something. He inhaled deep, as deep as he could, and then sifted the results.

The odors of the swamp permeated the air, nothing strange about that. However, he did note another reptilian scent, a predator. Wes.

They went this way.

Not far, though. He could see where the footprints stopped. At the murky edge of the water.

Water that Renny shouldn’t swim in, but she was beyond reason.

Intent on her goal—save Luke—she brushed past him and slogged in the liquid, arms above her head to keep the pistol dry, but vulnerable to anything that hid in the murky depths, and what about when they hit deeper water? How would she stay afloat or defend herself?

Yet he knew she’d never stay behind—not unless she was bound tight—and there wasn’t a boat or anything she could use as a…

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.

Luke!

An urgent need to get to the top of the islet imbued him, but first he had to dump a passenger. He maneuvered himself alongside a rock large enough for her to climb on. He didn’t think she’d heard Luke—human hearing not being as developed—but she had a motherly instinct that sent her looking for handholds on the rocks and a path through the bushes.

Wait for me.
A thought she didn’t hear, and that meant he needed to quickly follow. Scrambling through the bramble in his bulky body would make too much noise, and climbing was easier when sporting fingers, which was why he took a moment to return to his human guise. And just in time, too, if he wanted to catch Renny, who’d scurried ahead of him.

At least she wore clothes. Caleb bit back curses as the thorns and prickly branches tore fine scratches along his skin while the moss-covered rocks slathered his skin in goo. But he didn’t care about the minor irritations. Razor-sharp blades could have lined his path, and he would have still forged ahead.

His recklessness gave him speed, and he passed Renny, who’d finally paused to tuck the gun in the waistband of her pants. Hard to climb one-handed.

Reaching the top first, Caleb took a second to scan the area. He found himself in a small clearing, the ground hard and knotted, the bushes having been torn out, leaving behind uneven lumps. Within the created space, the reek of the creature permeated. Given the only tunnel in the brambled mess was the one Caleb had created, Caleb really believed his crazy theory that it might have flown had more weight.

During his quick evaluation of the area, a panting Renny had arrived and placed herself at his side. She didn’t spare the spot more than a cursory glance. Upon spotting the shadowy crevice at the base of the jumble of rocks in the clearing, she immediately took a step toward it

Snagging her arm, Caleb halted her and shook his head. Putting a finger to his lips, he took the lead, ensuring his body provided a shield in the off chance something came rushing from the darkness of the cave.

After a few steps into the stony crevice, the sounds of the bayou faded, and the only things he could hear were the rasp of their feet on the ground and their breathing.

Noisy, but silence at this point wouldn’t completely hide them. Air was being sucked into this cave, and as the current rushed past them, it pulled their scent with it. Surprise was out of the question, but he still tried to remain as stealthy as possible.

The military had taught him well when it came to stalking, a teaching forgotten at the whimpered, “Daddy?” It took Renny grasping his arm to prevent him from bolting ahead.

Only fools rushed in.

Or crazy fucking crocodiles.
Snap. His reptile wiggled around inside, but Caleb paid him no mind as he reassessed.

Think with your head, not your heart.
Because his head would hopefully keep them all alive.

The tremulous query came from around the bend, a bend he could see because of a faint orange illumination. As he slid around the curve, blind to whatever hid behind it, he held himself ready, still in his human guise. This confined space wasn’t made for a croc to fight.

Put him in the water and he would clamp his jaws, grab with claws, and roll with the bastard. On dry land, even worse in a tight cave, his beast would be at a disadvantage.

Good thing he had more skills than just a pair of powerful jaws for snapping. He clenched his fists, and as he fully came around the rocky bend, instinct ensured he was just in time to block the blow aimed at his face.

A fetid whiff of the creature enveloped him.

Found you.

And the monster wasn’t happy about that. The impact of the punch against Caleb’s forearm forced a grunt from him.

The fucker is strong.

And by strong, he meant a seven-footish, hulking green lizard man with linebacker-wide-plus-some shoulders and a vile smile distorted by the teeth-filled beak.

“Well, aren’t you a cute specimen? Not,” Caleb taunted as he braced against another blow then jabbed out. His shot connected…with a slab-like chin.

Ouch.

“Is your face made of bloody rock?”

The thing hissed at him and jabbed its tongue. Caleb tilted his head to the side, but didn’t quite escape the wet drool.

“Gross, dude.” More than disgusting, poisonous.

Caleb would have cursed his stupidity in not suspecting it except he felt himself fading fast. While shifters had a stronger-than-human ability to process drugs, it sometimes took several exposures to build an immunity.

Having never been licked by a mutant lizard before, Caleb proved quite susceptible. And he saw rainbows, but that might have been an old concussion talking as a fist took him in the jaw.

Reeling on his feet, blinking past the rainbows, Caleb sought to regain control.

Must take out this threat before passing out.
Caleb swung, but his movements were sluggish. Laughable even.

A granite fist caught him again on the jaw. A jab smacked him in the stomach.

Damn his uncooperative limbs!

Within the space of a blink, Caleb found himself on his knees.

Little hands grabbed at him, and he saw the wavering shape of his son’s face.

“Daddy!”

“Caleb.”

Two voices yelling for him and he couldn’t make his thick tongue answer. All Caleb could do was look up at the reptilian creature that had taken him down with mere spit.

The indignity of it.

The shame…
His croc rolled and rolled in a deathly parody in his head.

Asshole.

Who will save our woman and son?

Who, indeed, if Caleb was taken out?

You are not alone.

He didn’t have to be a hero today. The important thing was that they survived. And with that thought, he managed to focus enough to blurt out the words, “Shoot it, baby.”

Shoot it?

Big blue eyes stared at Renny. Human eyes in the face of a monster.

The gun trembled in her hand, her outstretched arms, feeling the pressure to remain steady, to keep her aim true.

Renny knew how to fire a pistol, smaller pistols than the one she held, but same concept. Aim. Shoot. But this wasn’t a paper target or a pop can.
It’s alive.
Could she really kill the creature in front of her?
Is it even a creature? I would swear it’s a shifter of some kind.
One with too many different parts.