Saving Autumn (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

AUTUMN HAD MANAGED
to keep her emotions in check as she walked with clenched fists away from Blake’s warehouse apartment. But as soon as she felt she was far enough away to be out of sight of Blake’s wolf ghost, she broke into a run. She just wanted to get as far from Blake as possible. Tears streamed down her face, though she barely noticed. People gave her looks as she ran past, some concerned, others alarmed, but no one tried to stop her. Her regular jogs meant she was fit to run, but emotion and exhaustion soon slowed her down. She stopped, bent over, her hands placed on her thighs as she breathed somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She felt so stupid to have allowed him to get into her heart. She should have known it would never have been that simple, never have been uncomplicated. Sometimes, she wondered if she was meant to be alone.

Straightening, she wiped the moisture from her face and made her way home. The sight of the building that housed her apartment made her sag with relief, though even that brought with it a dull ache of pain. The last time she’d been here, she’d been with Blake. Her sheets would still contain the very private, masculine scent of him. She didn’t know whether to strip the sheets immediately to cleanse them of any trace or to curl up on her side in the bed and drown herself in what she had left.

She caught the elevator up to her apartment and fished her keys from her purse She went to put the key into the lock, only for the door to swing open beneath her hand. Her heart lifted a little. Mia must be home! What she really needed right now was a good heart to heart with her friend. Mia would tell her that Blake was a jerk if he didn’t want to be with her, that she was better off without him—all the things she needed to hear, even if she didn’t particularly believe them.

“Mia?” she called as she walked in. “Hey, honey, I’m home!” She said it in a singsong voice, an old private joke of theirs from times when they’d felt like an old married couple. But no answer came back, and the thought that Mia and Peter might be in Mia’s bedroom together, came to her. Her cheeks flushed, imagining she’d interrupted them during an intimate moment.

She passed the kitchen door, heading into the living room. She didn’t see any sign of Mia—no coat dumped on the living room chair or purse left in the hall. Autumn frowned. Yet the door had been partially open and she felt sure the apartment wasn’t empty …

Sudden movement came from behind, but before she got the chance to turn, thick, warm fingers wrapped around her mouth and nose, stifling her scream of shock. A clammy palm pressed against her face.

Instinctively, Autumn opened her mouth, ignoring the taste of salty sweat and body odor, and clamped her teeth around one of the digits. The man—she felt sure it was a man—let out a yell and used his other hand to grasp at her face. She battered against him, a flurry of hands like wings of trapped birds fighting for space, and kicked back at the shins directly behind her.

“Shit!” the man swore as she made contact, releasing his grip on her momentarily, but long enough for her to slip his grasp.

She lunged forward toward the living room, managing to scream, “Help!” She grabbed the bookshelf on the wall nearest the door and yanked it over so books spilled over the floor, hoping to buy herself more time. “Someone help me!” she screamed again.

A solid weight hit her from behind and she flew forward, hitting the glass coffee table. She’d managed to have enough insight to lift her arms to protect her face, but her elbows made contact with the glass with a crack. A fracture appeared in the glass surface and then it ruptured, shattering all over the rug beneath. The person grabbed her ankles and yanked her backward, away from the broken glass, though she felt shards cutting into her arms and through her clothing as he did so. She was thankful that she’d not managed to take off her fall coat, the thick layer protecting some of her skin, though a deep gash slit down the side of her hand.

Her attacker threw himself on top of her.

Autumn found herself face down on the floor, all the air knocked from her lungs, leaving her gasping, her throat constricted. The man’s body lay across her back, pressing her to the ground, though she didn’t get anything sexual from the contact. He seemed only to be trying to restrain her, to stop her getting away.

Who are you?
She wanted to ask.
What do you want?

But the lack of air in her lungs prevented such a thing from happening. She heard a tacky ripping sound, and tape was placed across her mouth
and then over her eyes, blinding her to the world. Somehow, during all of this, the body on top of hers hadn’t moved. She became aware of feet beside her head, where her cheek pressed into the carpet.

Someone else i
s here!

“Jesus, she’s half your size. It shouldn’t have been that hard. I can’t believe you let her get the better of you.”

A woman’s voice.

A flicker of recognition ran through her, but she couldn’t place it. She wanted to hear the woman speak again, hoping the sound would give her a clue, but the female half of her attackers stayed quiet.

The weight on top of her shifted. The man wrenched her hands behind her back and bound them together with more tape.
Oh please, God, let someone have heard me.
She wanted someone to walk in, to save her, but perversely hoped no one did, as that person would be Mia. She didn’t want her friend caught up in whatever was happening here.

Roughly, she was dragged to her feet. Something was thrown over the top of her head—a coarse material with the weight of a blanket, like the sort removal guys used
to cart furniture around to prevent damage. Someone—the man, she suspected—held her shoulders, and suddenly her feet were whipped out from under her, so she ended up facing the ground and being carried between them like a rolled up rug.

Surely they wouldn’t get away with abducting her like this in the middle of the day? Someone would notice. Someone would question what they were doing. But the truth was that people kept to themselves around here. She didn’t even know her neighbors’ names, and she’d lived in the apartment for years. Chicago was full of trouble and no one wanted to get caught up in it. S
he doubted anyone would even report them acting suspiciously. Everyone was too worried about how it would backfire, that someone would suddenly pull knife or a gun if they interfered and their good deed would end up being punished in the worst possible way. So instead, everyone minded their own business and simply pretended that they hadn't noticed anything strange. Of course, the riots over the last couple of days didn’t help her cause. A lot of stuff had been going on that probably should have been reported, but the police either had their hands full or simply didn’t want to know. The best Autumn could hope for was someone placing a call to the cops, but by the time the police made an appearance, she suspected she’d be long gone with her attackers.

Perhaps not wanting to get caught in the elevator, she was carried down the stairs. The woman holding her legs lost her grip every now and then, causing Autumn to bang and knock against the steps. She grew hot being jostled beneath the blanket—a result of her exertions and stress from trying to fight free. She struggled to breathe with her mouth covered in tape and forced herself to consciously think to inhale and exhale through her nose. Having the blanket covering her face and still being winded from the fall also didn’t help her breathing, and she found herself growing light-headed. Her heart knocked in her chest and her whole body trembled with fear.

Her abductors drew to a halt and freed their hands by dropping her like a stone. Her chin and chest hit the ground first, sending pain spearing through her sensitive breasts and ribcage, her teeth clacking together, narrowly missing her tongue. Autumn groaned in pain and terror. She realized they'd not taken the main exit out onto the street, but must have gone down another level to the parking lot below the building. She heard the clunk of a metal bar being pushed down, and sensed a change in air pressure as the emergency exit door to the outside world was opened. Deep down, she yearned to feel the cool air from outside against her face, to take a deep breath and fill her burning lungs, but she knew it was impossible. She felt hands on her legs and beneath her arms, and she was lifted again and hoisted into the outside world. The door led onto a back alley, concrete steps leading up to the street above. The people holding her paused as a car went past, and then they began moving again. What should she do? She couldn't fight, so she had no choice but to go with it and hope an opportunity to escape arose soon enough. She wished she had her cell phone on her, so at least she had the hope of placing a call for help if she got the chance, but she’d dropped her purse on the unit beside the front door as she’d walked in. And anyway, the phone was dead.

A
car beeped as the alarm was switched off and then another clunk came, signaling a trunk opened. A fresh burst of claustrophobia filled her, panic threatening to take hold as she realized she was about to be thrown in a trunk. That was even worse than being smothered by the horrible blanket over her head and the tape over her mouth. She bucked and thrashed like a mad-thing, squealing against her gag. But her struggles only amounted to name calling.

“Keep still, bitch!”

She hit the trunk bed, the tang of oil and musty leather filling her nostrils.
Just concentrate on breathing,
she told herself, trying to ward off further bouts of panic. As long as she carried on breathing, she would get out of this eventually. She had to believe that.

The lid slammed down.

In slowly and out slowly
, she told herself in her head, taking long, deep breaths—as deep as her situation allowed—through her nose. Focusing on her breathing helped to tamp down her rising panic.

Who were these people? What did they want?

All she could think about was her father’s revelation that shifters had killed her mother. She refused to believe she was being taken to her death. If she believed that, she would give up. She couldn’t allow herself to do that.

The engine rumbled up around her and the vehicle began to move. Autumn never wanted to be the type of woman who needed to be rescued, but right now that was what she found herself praying for.

Someone to save her.

Chapter Seventeen

MIA WATCHED PETER’S lean, sculpted body walk into the bathroom and waited until he’d closed the door before she leaned over the side of the bed to grab her phone from her purse.

She pulled up her last calls and hit the button to dial Autumn’s new number. It rang once and went straight to voicemail.

“Hey,” she said softly, for some reason not wanting Peter to know she was trying to call her best friend the moment he left the room. She didn’t want to appear immature, as if she couldn’t live without her best friend for longer than a few minutes. “Where the hell are you? I’m starting to get worried.”

She hung up and quickly redialed the landline in their apartment. The phone continued to ring, and in her mind she pictured the ringing echoing through their empty apartment.

She’s probably with Blake,
she tried to reassure herself. She wished she had his number, but she needed to turn to Peter for that. He’d surely want to get in touch with his friend; after all, they’d still not told either Autumn or Blake about Toby West’s discovery.

Mia couldn’t help worrying about Autumn. She hadn’t heard from her friend since she’d spoken to her on the phone after they’d not shown up at Toby West’s apartment the previous day. Admittedly, her mind hadn’t been on Autumn the whole time. Finding herself in Peter’s bed had done a good job of pushing all other thoughts to one side. But even so, her friend had sounded upset when they’d spoken, and Mia felt guilty for not having done more to find out what happened to her next. She wasn’t even sure if Blake had gone back to his apartment or if Autumn was still alone.

She glanced at the closed bathroom door and heard the toilet flush, followed by the sound of water running.

Despite her worries, Mia couldn’t help the smile touching her lips. She hugged herself with a sudden rush of happiness. They’d spent the night either sleeping or, when they woke, reaching for each other and making slow, sensuous love. Then they’d drift off in each other’s arms before waking and repeating all over again. With everything happening, she almost felt like she didn’t have the right to interrupt everyone’s problems with this kind of bliss, but she couldn’t help herself.

The bathroom door clicked open and Peter walked out, his dark, salt-and-pepper hair tousled from sleep. But she recognized the concern on his handsome features and instantly realized he knew she’d been on the phone.

“You’ve not been able to get hold of Autumn.” The way he spoke didn’t make it a question.

She frowned. “How did you know?”

He glanced at her purse. “Sorry. Super shifter hearing.”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, right.” He must have heard her make the calls.

“You’re right to be trying to get hold of her. I should have been doing the same with Blake, but I guess I’ve been distracted.” A cheeky smile lit up his face and that rush of happiness filled her again, making her heart feel like it was going to burst.

He sprawled on his stomach on the bed beside her and reached for his phone. Her eyes caressed the curve of his buttocks, unable to resist having a sneaky moment of admiration, as he quickly called Blake. He waited, and she faintly heard the phone ringing before he said. “Hey, it’s me. We still need to meet up with you and Autumn. I assume you’re together. Give me a call a.s.a.p.”

“He’s not answering either,” said Mia, chewing her lower lip. “Am I being paranoid? They’re probably just together, right? Busy, like we were.” Her cheeks heated again.

He gave her that sexy grin. “Yeah, probably.”

“But there’s a chance they’re not.” She wished she could keep her mouth shut, push her worries away, and climb on top of Peter, where she wanted to be. But her instincts told her something wasn’t right, and in her line of work, she’d long ago learned to listen to her instincts. “I didn’t like how Autumn sounded when I last spoke to her. Things between her and Blake didn’t seem … right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. She said Blake had left her.”

“He must have had good reason to,” he said, quick to defend his friend. “And didn’t you say he was meeting up with her again? She’d already gone back to his place.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Though she didn’t feel convinced.

Peter must have noticed. “Look, if you’re really worried, we can go and look for her.”

Mia hesitated. “Well, maybe we can swing by our apartment.” She was aware she only had yesterday’s filthy outfit to wear. She could get a change of clothes while at the same time checking to see if Autumn was at the apartment. If her friend wasn’t there—and she doubted she would be, considering she’d not answered the phone—they could go straight to Blake’s.

Mia suggested this to Peter.

He studied her face. “I’ll drive. It’s okay to admit you’re worried. A lot has gone on this last week.”

She smiled, grateful for his support. “Okay, I’m worried.”

He sat up and leaned over, kissing her firmly on the mouth. “Go and jump in the shower. I’ll brew a quick coffee and make it to go.”

She kissed him back. “Thanks, Peter.”

“My pleasure.”

Within ten minutes, they were sitting in Peter’s comfortable car, encased in soft leather seats. They drove in silence, Peter holding Mia’s hand in between gear shifts. The city seemed to have quieted down since last night, though Mia’s whole body was tense with anxiety, coiled like a tightly wound spring, watching for any signs of trouble. She noted how Peter didn’t drive through downtown, but instead skirted the edges of the city. It seemed he, too, was expecting trouble.

For the moment, none materialized.

Peter pulled the car up outside her building. “Do you want me to come up with you?”

“Yes, please.”

They climbed out of the car and crossed the sidewalk to the building. Trying to quash the sense of unease that had taken hold of her, she stepped into the elevator, Peter close beside her, and hit the button for their floor. The car began to rise, leaving her stomach somewhere below. The elevator came to a halt with a jerk and a shudder and the doors slid open.

Mia exited the elevator, Peter shadowing behind her left shoulder. She crossed the hall and stopped, her heart stuttering in her chest. The door stood ajar by several inches. Her stomach churned in a slow, lazy loop.

“Peter …”

It was all she could manage. She reached out behind her and her fingers caught his. Instinctively, she knew something was wrong. It wasn’t just that Autumn had forgotten to close the front door properly. It wasn’t just that security was important to them—young women living alone in this part of Chicago. No, she got more of a feeling from behind the open door, a sense that something bad had occurred here, the events tainting the air like a bad smell.

“Wait here,” Peter said, stepping forward while carefully managing to maneuver himself so he now stood in front of her, shielding her with his body. “I’ll go and check it out.”

She wanted to be brave and go waltzing in herself, but she was afraid of what she might find. What if Autumn had been hurt or worse? What if the people responsible—government people Toby had been monitoring—were still there? Peter was far more qualified to deal with them.

Feeling like a little kid, she clung to the back of his shirt, hiding behind the breadth of his back as they both entered the apartment. She peeped around his shoulder, her eyes skirting the floor, terrified she’d see one of Autumn’s long legs sticking out from a doorway, or a puddle of blood soaking into the carpet. They walked through into the living room and Peter came to a stop. She could tell from the hitch of his breath, from the way his body stiffened, that he hadn’t seen something good.

“Oh God,” she whispered and forced herself to look.

The images she’d had of Autumn’s beaten body and pools of blood didn’t exist. However, the tumbled bookcase, with its sprawl of battered paperbacks as if they’d been vomited across the room, the smashed coffee table, and a broken coffee mug was enough of a reason to explain her sense of forebode.

Peter left her side and crossed to beside the couch, bent and touched his fingers to a dark, rusty stain. He lifted his hand and pressed his fingers together, pulling them apart to show red on their tips. Mia had been wrong. There was blood in the apartment.

“Oh God.” Her legs trembled beneath her and she reached out to grab the back of the couch to steady herself. “Someone took her. Those government people Toby was talking about …”

Peter turned to her, his grey eyes filled with concern. “We don’t know that for sure, but it’s pretty likely.”

“What do we do? Can we call the police?”

“We could, though I’m not sure what they’d be able to do. If this is government led, the cops won’t be able to do anything.” But Mia saw something on his face, something he wasn’t saying.

“What is it?” she asked. “What are you not telling me?”

He frowned and gave his head a shake as if to dislodge his thoughts. “It’s probably nothing, but this seems too messy to be the work of the Department of Defense. They’d clean up after themselves.”

She stared at him. “Who else would want Autumn?”

“I’m not sure, but I think we need to find Blake.”

“What about Toby? He might know something else now.”

Peter frowned. “I told him to stay off the government intranet.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “He’s a teenage boy. Do you really think he would do as you tell him?”

“You may have a point,” he said, with a long exhale.

“What about all of this?” She gestured around her. “Should we clean it up?” The enormity of her friend missing and probably hurt suddenly hit her. Her eyes filled with tears, her hand went to her mouth. “Poor Autumn. She must be so scared.” Her thoughts went to her own abduction not so long ago. The tumble of thoughts piled upon her until the memories seemed to bury her, suffocating and claustrophobic.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, before she turned and ran
at a stagger, bumping into the walls until she got out of the apartment.