Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (12 page)

I
n case she didn’t, Lizzie had to start working on a plan of her own. There was no question of a direct confrontation. Her only options were to escape or to convince her captors to turn her loose. After five minutes, Lizzie discovered the bathroom window was too narrow to fit her hips or shoulders, the bedroom windows were locked, and the panes were too small to shimmy through. Finally, she went to investigate the lock on the bedroom door…to find the door didn’t even have a lock. Checking the door should have been her first task.
Victim fail.
Official worst kidnap victim ever.
She thought she might leave that part out of the story when she eventually did escape. Or was rescued. Well, there was probably a guard.

She
quietly turned the handle and opened the door—to find no guard.
Seriously, she was so fired as a modern, independent woman.
Trying to summon a purposeful look and a little confidence, Lizzie stepped out of her room, walked down the hall, and started to descend the stairs.

Before splitting up, Lizzie’s rescue crew agreed to check in at prearranged times with Chris. Christina, called Chris by all of her close friends, was expecting her first child. John had explained that her husband hadn’t been comfortable with her traveling, and she had been nervous about becoming involved in a potentially dangerous situation while six months pregnant. So she’d been thrilled to be able to help her friends by coordinating communications, information collection, and research from afar. 

Sitting on the plane, not being able to
act, was making Kenna anxious. It was approaching twenty-four hours from the estimated time of Lizzie’s disappearance. She tried to keep herself occupied by reviewing some of the plan details. Ben and James were on the road to Jonesboro, and John, Max, and she were seated in a private plane in route to Boise, Idaho.

Part of the reason Kenna was so worried was that she’d been left to stew in silence.
Halfway to Boise and the three travelers had barely said more than a handful of words to each other. The men were on their laptops, or tablet in Max’s case. Kenna had been staring out the window trying to decide if she should use this opportunity to learn more about Lycan, or if there was something else—anything—they could do to better prepare themselves for their search once they arrived.

Tired of the
lack of conversation and frustrated by inaction, Kenna finally broke the silence. “Where exactly are we going? Beyond Boise, I mean.”

John replied. “We’ll start in Boise. Max has a few friends there. They’re more likely to speak openly with a friendly face. One of three things is likely to happen. Either we’ll pick up some useful information, or our kidnappers will find us. The third option is
— nothing, if Idaho isn’t involved.”

Max kept tapping on
the keyboard attached to his tablet, looking up briefly at his name.

“And if they find us?”
Kenna asked.

“Then we negotiate,” John respon
ded.

The plane had arrived in Boise just in time for John, Max, and
Kenna to make last call at the pub where Max’s friend worked. It wasn’t long before Kenna witnessed John “negotiating.”

The three were
behind a brewpub in downtown Boise, having just finished speaking with one of Max’s friends, when they were surrounded by three burly Lycan. Looking at the three men, Kenna decided that her understanding of negotiation and John’s differed.

It wasn’t clear what or who tipped off the Idaho pack
—their arrival at the private airstrip just outside Boise, or a patron of the bar. Even Max’s friend was a possibility. But the presence of the three men waiting outside behind the bar as they were leaving was no coincidence. Kenna really hoped this was part of the plan as the three strange, very large, men moved to surround them.

John decided to start the conversation before things escalated.
“John Braxton with the Texas Pack. How can we help you gentlemen?” At this, two of the three men stopped their forward progress. The third man, the youngest of the three, looked questioningly at his cohorts, one of whom signaled him to hold his position.

The stockiest of the three men
jerked a thumb in John’s direction. “If he’s Braxton,” he looked at Max and said, “then you must be Ben Emerson.” Max didn’t reply. As the wind shifted and picked up in strength slightly, the stocky Lycan frowned. “You’re human.”

Turning to John,
the stocky Lycan said, “What’s the leader of the Texas Pack doing outside his territory without his favorite enforcer?”

Lizzie’s rescue crew
had split along functional lines. James had contacts in Arkansas and Max had a few friends in Boise. John and Ben, as the strongest fighters, split apart. James and Max were both handy in a fight for different reasons, but neither could equal John. And Ben was the Texas Pack’s most skilled enforcer, basically the Alpha’s body guard. He was
very
good in a fight. Since this wasn’t official pack business and they were short on manpower, John defied protocol and traveled without an enforcer. And he’d been called out on his protocol breach.

“I’m here on personal, not pack, business. I’m visiting a friend, Lizzie Smith. You might know her
,” John said. He’d been watching the men, trying to gauge their reaction when he spoke Lizzie’s name. And he was rewarded when one of the men visibly startled at John’s reference to Lizzie.

The burly guy must have appointed himself spokesperson because he responded again. “What interest
is she of yours?”

“She’s a good friend. We had a brunch date on Sunday that she missed.
In Austin.” The subtext should have been clear to the Lycan. Lizzie may not be a pack member, but she had friends in the Texas Pack. More importantly, she had a personal relationship with the pack leader. And she had been taken from the middle of his territory. “I’m very concerned. It’s unlike Lizzie to miss one of our dates.” A little truth stretching that he hoped Lizzie wouldn’t mind. But it wouldn’t hurt the locals to think his personal relationship with Lizzie was intimate.

Mr. Burly
looked conflicted. Rather than respond to John, he pulled out his cell and made a call. John could easily hear the conversation as Mr. Burly received instructions from a superior. After filling his boss in on the Texas Pack leader’s unexpected and unofficial arrival, Mr. Burly was told to pass along an invitation. The pressing question was, what form the delivery of that invitation would take.

John
had suspected an invitation to meet with Idaho’s pack leader would be forthcoming. Since the alternative was a demand that they leave Idaho’s territory immediately and he had no intention of doing so, an invitation for a sit-down was a best-case scenario.

He gave Max a casual glance, which Max responded to with a slight dip of his chin. As the burly
Lycan finished the phone conversation, John allowed his heart rate to speed slightly. Increased adrenaline sharpened his senses, making his nose twinge from the acrid scent of the youngest Lycan’s fear. His eyes sharpened in the darkness. The peppery smell of adrenaline tinged the air as the other two Lycan registered the change.

John kept his stance relaxed, but shifted his weight slightly to the balls of his feet.
They’d either receive a politely worded invitation, or Mr. Burly would signal his crew to make an example of them…casually offering the invitation after they’d beaten the crap out of John and Max. Kenna should be safe…in theory. But for John that was moot; he had no intention of losing a fight. Bluster wouldn’t work. If his status as pack leader didn’t influence them, then he and Max would be fighting their way out.

Kenna
had been given specific instructions for this exact scenario. She was to be well clear before any blood was spilled. John glanced quickly in her direction. She hadn’t forgotten. She was already well behind John, waiting for him to clear an exit.

Mr. Burly pocketed his phone. “Grant Clark sends his regards. He asked that I relay an invitation to lunch.”

“I would be honored,” replied John. He relaxed. Without an obvious easing of tense muscles or smoothing lines of tension in his face, the air simply became lighter. 

After details were exchanged, the three men left.
Kenna turned to John and said, “That’s it? Three men threaten us, you mention your name, and we get an invitation to lunch? What’s to keep them from coming back and beating the crap out of everyone? They looked more than happy to do it.”

John shrugged
. “Etiquette, tradition. We won’t be bothered until after lunch tomorrow. And you’re not invited—I am.”

At
Kenna’s peeved expression, John added, “Clark wouldn’t even consider inviting two humans to discuss what he considers pack business. And if you came, he wouldn’t speak as openly.”

Max spoke for the first time since the men appeared. “
Will you request Lizzie’s release? Demand it?”

Max was famili
ar with some of the inner workings of the Texas Pack due to his close relationship with several pack members. But John knew his knowledge was limited. Max wouldn’t have any experience with how packs interacted with one another. Hence his uncertainty about how John would approach Clark.

John raised one shoulder. “I don’t know. It depends on Clark. A pack is basically a sovereign nation. That’s the closest analogy.
And Lizzie isn’t a citizen of the Texas Pack—to extend the analogy. If Lizzie were a pack member, a refusal to release her would typically result in the Texas Alpha issuing a direct challenge to Idaho’s Alpha.”

“That’s apparently you?” Kenna asked
, the irritation in her voice undisguised.

John nodded his agreement, and then he smiled crookedly at Kenna. “It might surprise you to learn, t
he Texas Pack is actually quite progressive. We’re more democratic than some packs, including Idaho. They follow an older form of governance that resembles a feudal system. Given their traditional views, a challenge fight could become a fight to the death.” He continued in a deadpan voice, “I’d really prefer to avoid that.”

“Funny
,” Kenna replied. “Wait, you’re kidding, right?”

“Eh, he’s half kidding,” Max
said.

“Back to the actual issue here.
Lizzie’s not a pack member. So I have no official standing or authority. I’m banking on Clark’s ignorance of my relationship to Lizzie prior to her abduction. And on Idaho’s reluctance to piss me off,” John said.

Max added, “
Sometimes it’s good to have a reputation.”

“What reputation?
Baddest werewolf statistician in three counties?” Kenna looked curious, probably about what actions by a statistician might warrant a formidable reputation—until she must have realized how dismissive her comment sounded. Then she quickly apologized. “Sorry! That didn’t sound quite so rude in my head. Somehow. Sorry.”

John smiled and Max laughed outright. It was Max, however, who addressed
Kenna’s concern. “You didn’t offend him, I promise. He’s just not nice enough to tell you that.” A quick elbow jab to John’s ribs followed. “John’s reputation among Lycan is currently unimpeachable. Outside of being the pack leader of the largest pack in North America, he is known to be mindful of his own people, stays out of other people’s business, is slow to anger, but is considered viciously efficient in a fight. That’s an impeccable rep by Lycan standards. But he looks like an accountant and geeks out with numbers, so humans underestimate him.”

“
Currently
unimpeachable?” John queried.

Max grinned
. “Things change. I’m not so sure your sparkling reputation will survive this trip. I’m willing to gamble on you losing some of that calm reason. Five dollars says we see you lose your cool in the next few days.” His grin disappeared. “What is our next move? If Clark figures out Lizzie is your…your whatever, then what?”

John took a breath and let it out. “I imply we’re lovers without actually saying it, and hope he can’t smell the lie. Given the current situation, if Clark refuses to let me see Lizzie or directly denies having her, he knows
there’s a good chance of alienating the Texas Pack. But directly challenging Clark may not be feasible. I won’t kill another pack leader unless there is no other option. ” After a brief and thoughtful pause, John said, “I think I’ll pass on that bet.”

Kenna looked back and forth several times between the two men.
“What? Who said anything about murder? Are you nuts?” Kenna suddenly felt like she’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. “Werewolves are one thing. A stretch, but I get it. Killing people?
I don’t think so
.”

“It’s not murder. It’s a
Lycan challenge.” Surprisingly, this came from Max. “Basically, politics in action. Challenges are one way disputes are resolved. If warring nations limited the participants in a dispute to the two leaders, think about the lives saved.”

“And what Max has failed to tell you is, Lycan are rarely killed by challenges in the Texas Pack. We consider it an antiquated method of governance. While Idaho is…ah, less enlightened on this particular issue, there are ways to avoid fatal injuries and still win a challenge. It’s just much more difficult to stay alive, when you’re the only one trying not to kill the other guy.”