Loving Their Vixen Mate (Pack Wars Book 4) (31 page)

Each night, the image of Cheryl would appear, piercing her with sadness. What torture did she have to endure? Her cousin must be terribly afraid, lonely, and scared, which made sleep more and more difficult.

It had been horrible for Elena to be in a dirty, smelly cage all those weeks, but at least her captor hadn’t touched her. Elena was one of the lucky ones. She got out.

As the weeks wore on, Mac developed a routine of going to work, shopping, reading, and falling asleep with the e-reader in her hand. When she was motivated, she’d research the ten men to see if she could find a pattern between them, but nothing popped up. However, she refused to give up.

She tried searching laboratories around the world, but the websites didn’t brag they were doing research on werewolves, so she made little headway.

It was almost March, and she hadn’t heard from Sam and Brandon. It nearly killed her. Part of her wanted to believe they were as miserable as she was. Being in Indiana without them was what Witness Protection must be like. It sucked.

She was in the middle of a search when her cell rang. Mac had set her ringtone to a distinctive song for each of her friends. Even Jay had one, but this was the default setting. Her heart pounded as she fumbled in her purse for her phone.

She didn’t recognize the number, but the 813 area code told her the person was calling from Florida. Mac’s throat nearly dried up. “Hello?”

For a split second, she imagined it would be Cheryl on the other end. She’d escaped and needed help.

“Mackenzie, I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Marina Lavelle, Darla’s friend.”

It took a second to connect the dots. “Yes. Hello. You’re Roger Medlock’s friend, too.”

She laughed. “Former friend, but yes.”

Mac was about to ask how Marina had gotten her number when she remembered exchanging cards with her at Darla’s coffee shop. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, I called to help you.”

Her heart beat hard. “Is it about Cheryl?” It was the only thing that made sense.

“Yes, but don’t get your hopes up. I can’t be positive, but I believe I saw her last night.”

Because Cheryl was thin and pretty, she was often mistaken for someone else. Mac’s pulse slowed, but an ache stabbed her behind the eye. “Where? When?”

“I happened to run into Roger at another fundraiser. This one was a small affair at a restaurant at the beach. There were maybe one hundred people there. My law partner was invited and he didn’t want to go alone, so I went with him. I have to admit, I only went to show Roger that I wasn’t some pathetic woman desperate for a man. Roger didn’t have to know that my law partner is gay.”

Mac did enjoy Marina’s sense of humor. “And Cheryl was there?” That didn’t make sense. A human slave wouldn’t be free to roam, unless she was programmed to believe Roger was some kind of savior. “Did you speak with her? Did she tell you she’d been kidnapped?”

“Not exactly. When I saw her with Roger, I remembered what you’d said about your cousin being missing. I was not more than ten feet from her and called her name. She turned around, made eye contact, and then swiveled back. I definitely caught the fear in her eyes.”

That didn’t make sense. Had it been Cheryl? “So you didn’t speak with her?”

Marina chuckled. “You forget. I’m a lawyer. Lawyers are bulldogs. I waited until Medlock was occupied with a donor before walking up to her. I introduced myself and immediately said that I was friends with you.”

Mac gripped the phone tighter, hope surging through her. “What did she say?”

“It wasn’t what she said but rather her reaction. I make my living studying people’s facial expressions and their tells. Her eyes widened and she inhaled, as though hope had filled her. She shifted her gaze to Medlock, then that same streak of fear seemed to paralyze her as if she didn’t know what to say. Finally, she composed herself and claimed she’d never heard of Mackenzie Wagner.”

That was so like her cousin. “Then what?” This was too good to be true. After two months of wondering, Mac might finally find her. “How did she look?”

“Cheryl, if it was her, looked wonderful. She was wearing a very expensive Dior dress. And her jewelry did not look like paste.”

The wind was knocked out of her. “Cheryl had no money. It took all she had to buy an interview outfit and fly down the Florida.”

“I’m guessing Medlock bought her everything. Your cousin did look amazing on his arm.”

Nothing made sense. “Did she speak to the guests?”

“Some. Trust me, I watched. It became my focus for the evening to find out who she was. I asked around, but no one had met her before. She said her name was Natalie Forchiere. The name sounds sophisticated, just like Medlock would want.”

“Anything else?” Even if Marina had engaged this woman in conversation, Mac doubted this Natalie woman would have said much.

“No. I’m sorry. I did kid Roger about switching from a blonde to a dark brunette.”

“Dark brunette? Cheryl’s hair was brown with blonde highlights.”

“If this was Cheryl, Medlock would have dyed her hair to prevent anyone from recognizing her.

The news bolstered her spirits. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Maybe we can meet for lunch sometime,” Marina said.

Mac hesitated, not sure how much to reveal. “I’m visiting my mom right now, but sure, when I get back, I’d love to.”

Once they disconnected, Mac wiped her palms on her jeans. Could this woman be Cheryl? Everything seemed to point that she was, but Mac had to be sure. Believing almost every electronic device was bugged, she drove over to see Jay. He should be home from work by now.

Aunt Miriam answered the door. “Mackenzie, dear. It’s so nice to see you.”

They chatted a bit. Eventually, Jay sauntered down the hallway into the kitchen, his black hair wet and spiky. “Hey, Kenzie. What’s up?”

“I think we might have found Cheryl.”

Her aunt placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God. Is she okay?”

Mac blew out a breath. “It was only a sighting. We’re not sure. That’s why I’m here.”

Her aunt glanced at her son. “Does that mean you’ll be leaving?” There was pain in her voice.

Jay placed a hand on his mom’s shoulder. “I don’t know yet. I need to hear what Kenzie has to say.”

“Of course.”

“Shall I make some hot cocoa for you two?” She really seemed to want to help.

Mac hadn’t had cocoa in years. “I’d love some. Thank you.”

Once her aunt fixed the drink, they moved into the living room where she sat next to Jay on the sofa. She thought it best to keep her voice low. She relayed the conversation she had with Marina, but the man needed to learn the art of not interrupting.

“I’m going down there,” he said with more enthusiasm than she’d heard in a while.

“It’s not safe. Can’t your roommate check it out?” She wanted to head out right away, too, but it would take some planning.

“I’ll ask him. I do know that Riley has his feelers out. Seems Statler thinks I’m dead, which might make it easier for me to move around.”

“Or more dangerous especially if you start snooping around Medlock.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Jay was such a good man. She wondered if he’d be so willing to walk into the den of killers if Cheryl’s life hadn’t been at stake. “If you go, can you find a way to contact Sam and Brandon and tell them I love them?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure I should contact them. The Colters probably have them under surveillance.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be okay. Listen. I’ll find a way to get you a message. It might come from a Riley Bishop, but it really will be from me.”

“Thank you.” Mac was unable to express her gratitude.

“Thank me when I bring Cheryl back.”

Mac leaned against the sofa and smiled for the first time in weeks. Cheryl was coming home. Unfortunately, she couldn’t just sit here in Muncie, Indiana and let Jay do all the work. That meant only one thing. She’d had to leave, too.

*     *     *

Sam had been good—for weeks, in fact. He’d stayed away from everything relating to Cheryl, Paul Statler, and human trafficking, but spending his days as a deputy was slowly beginning to grate on his nerves. Domestic violence, petty theft, and fender benders held little interest to him. Even Brandon was barely speaking to him. Said he might be part bear instead of part wolf.

What the fuck did Brandon expect? Their mate was gone, and Sam couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Or could he?

He pulled into the garage. Brandon was home. Waiting for news was killing him, too. So far, none of the Pack members had made any progress. The General said many of the men were researching these super werewolves, but even that didn’t get Sam any closer to being with Mackenzie.

Brandon was at the dining room table, typing away, when he entered. Brandon looked up. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” Sam said.

His cousin lifted his middle finger. “How do you feel about a road trip?”

Didn’t he wish? “We can’t leave. We’ve got the party for Dirk and Clay this weekend, remember? They’re popping the question to Elena.”

Brandon leaned back in his chair. “I thought the celebration was supposed to be a ruse to make everyone, other than a select few, think we’re winning the battle against the Colters.”

“True. The General told me morale was sinking to a new low and thought it wise to celebrate the taking down of Hood and Harvey Couch.” Other than finding a few women in a warehouse who appeared to be leftovers from Hood’s fiasco, The Pack hadn’t made much progress against the Colters. “So where were you planning on going?”

“Thought Indiana might be a nice place this time of year.”

Brandon said it so calmly, Sam wasn’t sure if he was serious. “You think that’s a good idea? Someone might trace our movements. I don’t want to be the one who leads the Colters to Mackenzie’s doorstep.”

“It should be safe if we take cash and drive.” He closed the lid to his laptop. “I can’t last any longer without her. The wolf in me is eating me from the inside out.”

Adrenaline coursed through him. “What happens when we get there? Are you thinking of a permanent move?”

Brandon shrugged. “One day at a time.”

“When do you plan to leave?”

“Under the cover of night would be best.”

Sam wondered how long his cousin had been mulling this over. “You got the cash?”

“Yup. I’m all packed, too.”

“Well, hot damn. Did you tell the phone company about your plans?”

Brandon nodded. “It helps that Joe is a shifter. He totally understood.”

“I’ll call the sheriff when I get to Indiana. That way he can’t tell me no.”

Brandon grinned and pushed back his chair. “What are you waiting for? Go pack!”

B
randon and Sam had driven eighteen hours straight to get to Mackenzie’s house, stopping only to eat, taking a pit stop, or refueling. Brandon felt like crap and probably looked equally as bad. They’d arrived a little before eight in the morning. They debated if they should wait a bit and not wake Mackenzie, but both Brandon and Sam couldn’t contain themselves.

Sam pulled the truck in front of her apartment complex. “Which unit is it?” Sam asked.

Brandon had plotted the entire drive. “Unit 3A.”

They piled out, traipsed up the steps, and knocked on her door. Excitement sizzled inside him. Brandon had kept awake on the drive, imagining all the wonderful things they were going to do with Mackenzie. Kissing, loving, talking, and more loving.

“She’s not answering,” Sam said. He knocked again with more force. “Mackenzie, it’s Sam and Brandon.”

In a way, Brandon was glad she was cautious. The cold air snaked down his jacket. “Maybe she’s asleep.”

A door two down from her apartment swung open. A woman, who looked to be about twenty-five came out. She was bundled up, seemingly going to work. “If you’re looking for Mac, she’s not here.”

Brandon twisted around. “How do you know?”

“She said she was going on vacation.”

Mackenzie wasn’t frivolous like that. “Did she go with someone?” Perhaps she was as miserable as they were, and Jay had suggested they go skiing or something.

“I don’t know. Her mom might have an idea.”

Brandon had that address, too. “Thanks.” The girl left. “I say we ask Mrs. Wagner. I’ve got Jay’s address, if we need to pay him a visit.”

Ten minutes later, they pulled in front of her mom’s house. It was two-story and boxy, but it seemed to be in good repair.

When Mrs. Wagner opened the door, Brandon was surprised at her red-rimmed eyes. His hope sunk.

“May I help you?”

“I hope so.” He held out his hand. “I’m Brandon Crenshaw and this is my cousin, Sam.” He wasn’t even sure if Mackenzie had mentioned them.

Her eyes lit up. “Mackenzie’s men? Come in. Did she call you?” The woman pressed her palms together as if in prayer.

The inside was cozy and warm, but Brandon couldn’t really focus on the home. “What do you mean did she call us? Didn’t Mackenzie mention it wouldn’t be safe to communicate?”

“Yes.” She waved a hand. “Never mind. Please, sit down, and I’ll get her letter. You need to read it.”