Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (21 page)

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he hadn’t told Max about Jack’s investigation and help. So she was undecided as to whether she should answer the phone here or pop out in the hall briefly. She didn’t have much time to decide, and she’d only just fallen asleep when the vibration woke her. Later, Kenna could only think those factors must have muddled her enough to impair her typically sound judgment. Because the moment she stepped out into the hallway, a man appeared from around the corner. An armed, not very happy man.

It took Max a moment to realize the door opening was not the bathroom door. The snick of the deadbolt unlocking must have woken him, though he didn’t remember hearing it.
Shit.
He rolled out of bed immediately, grabbed his gun from the dresser drawer—he didn’t share the Lycan reluctance to use firearms—and headed for the door.

By the time he got there, he was already too late. A strange man had a gun trained on
Kenna. She was several feet away from the door, arms hanging limply by her sides. Her phone, a frivolous sparkly cover marking it clearly as hers, lay abandoned on the ground. One door down, another armed man was emerging from a room. He approached the group, speaking very quietly. “If you want her to live, place your gun on the floor.”

John and he had clearly underestimated both the motivation and the resources of the
Lycan who wanted Lizzie. They hadn’t anticipated this level of threat. Prepared for it, but not truly expected it. The escalation in violence pointed to an important piece of the puzzle they were missing. All of this passed through his rational mind. Simultaneously, he was feeling an unfamiliar panic. Controllable, but surprising in its very existence.

He responded by slowly placing his gun on the floor. To delay
would not only endanger Kenna, but also any passersby who happened to wander out into the hall. He waited for additional instructions.

“We’ll call your motel room within the hour. Do not leave the room before
we call. You understand these directions?”

Max slowly and deliberately nodded his head one time. The man
said, “Return to your room.”

Max had turned the deadbolt as he had left the room
. The protruding deadbolt kept the automatic lock from engaging. So now the door opened easily as he pushed against it. Walking through the door, he casually bumped her phone with his foot, so it was inside the room. He might need the contact information, and he was damn sure Kenna wouldn’t want those contacts in the hands of the men who had just held her at gunpoint. As he closed the door, he hoped Kenna realized he wouldn’t abandon her.

Kenna stared at Max as he returned to the room.
Really? Hasty exit in the dark, and he remembered to turn the deadbolt?
She would have locked herself out of her room. In fact, she had done exactly that when she left. Clearly, Max had more practice thinking on his feet than she did. If she’d been even a little more awake, she’d never have been so foolish as to leave the room. What the hell had she been thinking?

The man who had done all of the talking so far placed his gun in a shoulder holster disguised by a jacket. He then took her arm and escorted her
into the room he’d come from earlier. There was a third man waiting in the room, apparently unarmed. Kenna wondered if he might be Lycan. Maybe he didn’t feel the need for a gun because he could kick most people’s butts with his magic, badass self.

It was about this time, when
Kenna realized how incredibly tired she was. She really wasn’t in the best state of mind, working on two nights of very little sleep. She hadn’t gone with this little sleep since her college days. Adventure and mayhem were exhausting. So was being a hostage. She guessed that was her new role in this whole mess. If, no,
when
she got out of here, Lizzie would owe her something fierce.

The
man Kenna presumed to be the leader of the group said, “If your friend cooperates, this should be over very quickly. We have no interest in you. If you don’t cause any trouble, you’ll be on your way shortly.”

He was interrupted by a phone call. He stepped away and spoke quietly into the phone. She guessed
that they’d try to extort Lizzie into surrendering to them. Kenna hoped the guys could come up with an alternative plan. While she wanted as far away from these guys as possible, she didn’t want them to get their hands on Lizzie. The question arose again:
Why were they so determined to grab Lizzie?

Returning, he spoke quickly
to his cohorts, “Let’s go.” With that, they gathered a duffel and Kenna, and then headed out the door.

Max had just finished updating John, when Kenna’s phone started buzzing, yet again. It had been going off at regular intervals since she’d been grabbed. Max picked it up and looked at the display. Jack. Just Jack, no last name. Whoever Jack was, he better have a really good reason for calling at such an irregular hour. Max wasn’t feeling particularly generous towards this Jack guy. It was his call, after all, that got Kenna in the hall. He also hadn’t missed the implied familiarity of the first name only listing in the phone or the late night call.

He had to answer it and convince this guy everything was
okay. He really didn’t want the police involved. That would complicate matters unnecessarily. He really hoped Kenna hadn’t answered the phone before dropping it. “She forgot her phone” or “she just stepped out for a minute” would only work if she hadn’t actually answered it and then suddenly been cut off.

“Hello.”

A deep, male voice responded after a small hesitation. “I’d like to speak with Kenna.”

“
Kenna stepped out, and she forgot her phone. I’ll have her call you when she gets back.” Max hoped that was enough to forestall further investigation. But it really depended on whether she’d answered the phone or not. And her relationship to this Jack guy.

“Bullshit. Who am I talking to right now?” Jack’s response was immediate and demanding.

Okay. Jack had been on the phone when Kenna dropped it. He calculated about three minutes had passed since she’d lost contact with Jack. He put himself in Jack’s shoes. Then he gambled. “This is Max. What has Kenna told you?”

Silence.

Max could outwait him, but he suspected Jack knew something about Lizzie’s misadventure. The timing of his call, his obvious concern, both pointed to some knowledge of the past few days.

He’d give the guy one more chance. “I’m hanging up in three seconds.”

A brief pause, then
Jack replied. “Kenna requested some research, and I’m getting back to her with the results. I know she was traveling with you under a false name.” Another pause. “Has something happened to her?”

Max didn’t answer. He asked, “Is the information you have related to the last few days’ events?” 

At this point, Max felt like one of a pair of dogs, each circling around a disputed bone—the bone being some key piece of information. This was ridiculous. They needed to share information.

Before Jack could respond Max added, “She’s been taken hostage.
Likely as leverage to gain access to her friend.”

And then
he waited. Disclosing so much information was a massive gamble. John would probably chew him out later.

More silence while Jack digested this. “
You asked if the information I have is relevant. Yes, I think it is. If you give me a secure method to transfer docs, I can get you the information electronically. The long and short, someone with massive resources in Prague has an interest. I traced the rental car in Austin that picked up Lizzie to a corporation. Several ownership links beyond the corporation, I found a connection to Prague. The trail was well hidden, so a sophisticated legal team and some serious cash were involved.”

Prague. Max wasn’t sure where the Austrian pack territory border was, but he doubted it extended so far into the Czech Republic as Prague. He needed to get this information to John
immediately. He told Jack to expect a call from Chris. She would handle the receipt and redistribution of the documents.

“I want an update in an hour.
If I don’t hear from you, I don’t care how discreet Kenna says this needs to be, I’m calling the police, reporting her missing, and giving your contact information as her last known location.” The phone beeped. The bastard had hung up on him.

John answered the phone on the first ring. He wasn’t sure what delusion had possessed him to think he’d be able to sleep soundly with Lizzie just across the camper from him.
Especially after that insane moment in front of the bathroom. He’d been consumed by the sweet smell of her arousal. First, through dinner, and then as they’d cleaned up afterwards. She was drenched in the smell, and it had made him insane with desire. If he hadn’t also caught a hint of something uncertain hiding in the midst of all that rampant lust, he’d have been inside her faster than they could have reached a bed. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, but it was there. A tiny bit of something—doubt or fear. So he’d walked away.

The beds were on opposite sides of the camper
—but he could still smell her, hear every sleep snuffle, and see her form curled up under the sheets. He’d finally slept—that was no surprise. He could sleep just about anywhere and in most conditions. But he tossed and turned, waking at even the smallest of sounds. The next two days of this trip would be exhausting.

“Max. What’s going on?” It was 3:30 in the morning.
Something was wrong. He kept his voice low, hoping this was a call Lizzie could sleep through.

“
Kenna’s been taken. I’m expecting a call from the men who took her within the hour.”
Shit.
This was exactly what wasn’t supposed to happen.
Lizzie will be devastated—and pissed.

John swore
quietly. “Surely they realize they’ve grabbed the wrong woman.” Then John did a mental double take. “Wait. Where the hell were you when this happened?”

“Don’t start. I already feel like the world’s most incompetent ass. And the question should really
be, why Kenna would think it was okay to leave our motel room in the wee hours.”

“She seemed to have more sense than that.” John shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to analyze past questionable behavior
; it wasn’t helpful. But damn—really? He took a breath. “What are you expecting?”

“An exchange.
They know they’ve got Kenna, not Lizzie. John, there were three of them, all speaking English that sounded pretty damn American to me. Two had guns. And they know enough about Lizzie to gamble that she’d be willing to make the exchange.”

John grimaced.
“Humans.” Some North American packs allowed humans to join in special circumstances. Who knew in Europe? But these guys were American. Americans joining a European pack? No. These were professionals.

Max continued
. “What we didn’t know—Kenna had a guy do some digging on the rental car the Austrians used to grab Lizzie. Surprisingly, he found something. Maybe using stop light cams? If so, he must have connections in law enforcement. The rental they used traces through several layers to someone in Prague. This guy who did the leg work, Jack, thinks a very wealthy person or entity is funding this operation.”

“That supports my suspicion
that these guys are pros. But why Lizzie? It just doesn’t make any sense. I keep coming back to that question.” Damn. Lizzie was waking up. “You have a plan? Because Lizzie is about to wake up, and I guarantee you, I know what she’ll want to do.”

A little warm stew in her stomach, and Lizzie had crashed out after dinner. She was surprised at how easily she’d fallen into such a deep sleep. Sexual tension didn’t seem to trump sheer exhaustion. Her slumber was deep enough that she didn’t fully wake upon hearing the low murmur of John’s voice. Even though she could hear him, she couldn’t quite rise to the level of wakefulness that involved moving.

Amidst the low rumble of John’s voice, Lizzie heard her name, pushing
her closer to waking. Stretching, she speculated as to why she’d gotten the best sleep since her abduction, here in this camper. Then she realized. She felt safe. John made her feel safe. 

After pointing her toes and flexing her feet a few more times, she opened her eyes. She grabbed the
topmost blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders before she hopped out of the camper bunk. John was setting his cell down on the kitchenette table as she closed the gap between them. Perching on the edge of the kitchenette bench, she tried not to think about rumpled hair and morning breath. Obviously, something was wrong if John was on the phone this early in the morning.

His
first words confirmed her fears. “Kenna is being held hostage.”

              “You’re not the boss of me,” was basically what it came down to. Lizzie refused to listen to reason. She argued that they obviously wanted her, so that she could
do
something for them. Whereas Kenna was useless to them, except as a hostage. She concluded, quite correctly, that Kenna was in much greater and immediate physical danger in the hands of the bad guys than she would be. And she summed up with the reminder that she wasn’t a pack member, so he could hardly forbid her from turning herself over.