Skin Walkers: Leto (2 page)

“Yes Sir!”

Even though she couldn’t see their eyes, Shy could feel the men assessing her. When one leaned forward she couldn’t help but flinch as she clung to York.  Seeming to notice, the man backed up a fraction.  “Sir.”  He held a blanket out and York quickly unfolded it and draped it over her. 

“I need more.”

Three more blankets were thrust toward them and York used them all to cover her up, even lifting her slightly to tuck part underneath her.
  Wearing only a flimsy hospital gown, the garment was soaked and afforded little protection against the chilly night. 

Freezing and terrified, Shy still didn’t know whether or not these were the good guys or the bad guys.  She did know, all too well, the type of treatment she endured at the hands of the Megalya
technicians, and one thing was for certain, they wouldn’t give a damn if she was comfortable let alone froze her ass off.  Still, she had to know.  “Wh-where are you taking me?”

The chopper was so loud she didn’t think York heard her, but after a few moments he dropped his head and
removed his glasses before pulling down the black mask that covered the lower portion of his face.  He had sea green eyes set in a pale face with a striking red goatee covering his upper lip and chin.  He was handsome.  “We’re taking you to safety.  You’ll be with your mate.  The Megalya won’t hurt you again.”

Relief washed over her and she couldn’t help the tears that flooded her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.  Their confusion over her relationship with the other prisoner would need to be addressed, but right now she didn’t care what they though
t as long as York spoke the truth.  Her fingers ached from being fisted in his protective vest, but for some reason she refused to let go, too afraid it was a dream and she’d wake up back in her cell. 

York
pulled her closer and rubbed her back in a gesture of comfort.

“Son of a bitch!” 

She peeked up and realized the words were spoken to York through a headset he had covering one ear.

“What is it?” he growled.

“We’re leaking fuel York.  Took a hit coming in.”  There was a pause, “We won’t make it to Montana.”

“FUCK!” York slammed his head back against the metal of the helicopter’s cabin. 

The voice in his ear piece spoke again, “Conn said he’d circle back.”

York’s tone was clipped, “How far
ahead is he?”

The pilot responded after another brief minute of silence, “Far enough that if he comes back they’ll need to refuel.”

York dropped his eyes to Shy and his gaze narrowed on her.  She simply blinked back up at him wondering what this meant for her safety.  “Tell him to stay his course.  We’ll find shelter, repair the BlackBird, refuel, and depart ASAP.”

The helicopter banked
sharply to the right and Shy squeaked in fear as she clamped her eyes closed and lifted her arm higher to wrap around the back of York’s neck.

“EASY!” he barked and Shy’s eyes slammed open as she released her hold afraid she had upset the large man. 

“Sorry Sir,” the pilot spoke then continued in a regretful tone, “York?  The Raven’s turned and is circling back.  Conn refuses to arrive with the Walker and not his angel.  I’ve got orders to set down within a mile of the nearest town.  Looks like we’re headed to Lethbridge.”

Shy felt a rumble deep in the man’s chest then he was barking orders.  “Get out of uniform boys.  Marko, get to town and secure us six rooms.  The rest of you secure the perimeter.  Contact me through the mist if
there are problems.”

Peeking over her shoulder Shy caught a glimpse of the three men stripping out of their military gear.
  Quickly she buried her face back in York’s chest and kept it there until she was blasted with cold air when the door to the helicopter slid open.  Looking up, she saw a dark haired man move to the ledge of the helicopter and her heart skipped a beat.  He wasn’t wearing a parachute and was too close to the edge for her comfort.  When he jumped from the still moving chopper Shy sat up and screamed.

C
hapter 2

“Jesus Christ!” York grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him, “What’s wrong?”

Shy was hysterical.  “H-he jumped without a chute!”

The other two men who’d stilled at Shy’s scream looked from her to York with worried gazes.  York’s frown deepened and he motioned with his head for the two men to exit the cabin.  Both jumped without chutes and York cursed under his breath as Shy paled visibly.  He placed her on the bench beside him and stood to close the cabin door before reclaiming his seat.  When he reached for Shy she recoiled further into the corner and dropped her gaze.

“What’s your name?” he asked loudly. When she didn’t answer he shouted, “WHAT.  IS.  YOUR.  NAME?”

“Sh-Shy.”

“Listen Shy, my men had military chutes that are designed to not be noticed,” he lied.  “We’re Special Ops.  We’re trained to go places and do things that appear to be impossible.  My men are safe.”  She looked at him with uncertainty but he noticed her deep frown seemed to ease by a fraction.  He reached toward her again but ignored her flinch as he clicked a seat belt around her waist.

“ETA
Tito?”

“Soon’s
your men give you the all-clear you can relay to me and I’ll find us a spot.”

Shy heard York cursing under his breath and could’ve sworn she heard him say, “Damn humans.  We need a Walker pilot.”

York frowned at her, “How long have you been mated to the other captive?”

Shy shook her head. 
She was about to tell him that she was mated to no one, but a rapid beeping blared to life and a red light attached to the ceiling of the helicopters cabin began blinking wildly.

“Goddamn it!” York growled.  “Put her down Tito!”

“I’m trying!” The words were shouted.

York buckled a seat belt around his lean hips then reached for Shy.  He unfastened her belt and yanked her into the wall of his chest, his arms wrapping around her like two steel bands to lock her in place.

“This might get bumpy,” he whispered at her ear.

From the ear piece she heard Tito’s shouted, “HANG ON!”

The rear end of the helicopter whipped around and the chopper banked sharply one direction before jerking violently in the opposite.  Shy squealed and latched on to York’s vest, burying her face against his chest. 

“I’ve got it, I’ve got, I’ve…”  there was a hard bump that jarred Shy’s bones and a loud slow whirr sounded before Tito finished, “GOT IT!”

The loud whomp, whomp, whomp of the helicopter’s blades slowed and then finally stopped.  Shy was still clutching York’s vest when his hold on her loosened.  “You alright Shy?”

She simply nodded without looking up.

York reached between their bodies and unfastened his seat belt.  Then he was standing and taking Shy with him, bundle of blankets and all.

Outside of the helicopter it was still just as dark and
just as cold as it had been forty minutes earlier when Shy had first been rescued.  A short dark skinned man circled the helicopter and asked, “Any word?”

“Where are we?” York countered.

The small man, who Shy assumed was the pilot Tito responded, “About two clicks east of our designated LZ. 

Shy looked up in time to catch York focusing his gaze on something in the distance.  She followed the path of his eyes afraid he’d see
n something or someone.  Instead she was greeted with dark woods, covered with a fine layer of Canadian snow.  When she looked back up at York he was still intently focused on something and stayed that way for long minutes before he finally blinked and answered, “It’s clear.  Marko’s securing rooms; Bodi and Lok have just secured transport and will be enroute.  ETA, five minutes.”  He turned from Tito and stalked toward the woods with Shy.  “Secure the site.  I’m hiding Shy in the woods in case anyone saw us go down.  We still don’t know if the Megalya are following.”

Unintentionally whimpering at the thought, the sound provoked a hard look from York.  “Don’t worry Shy.  You belong to
one of us, which means it is our honor to die defending you.  If the Megalya come, they’ll have to kill me to get to you.”

She knew the revelation was meant to be comforting, but it wasn’t.  She didn’t want the Megalya chasing them and she sure as hell didn’t want this gentle giant dying over her.  Guilt gnawed at her as she watched Tito over York’s
shoulder.  The small man pulled a firearm from a holster at his hip and hunkered down beside the helicopter to scan the area.

York carried her away from the chopper and into the woods.  It got darker the further they got from the clearing and it wasn’t lost on her that she was being taken into the woods by a
stranger that just happened to be some special forces assassin and was built like a brick shit house.

“Y-you don’t have to carry me.  I can walk.”  If he was going to kill her in the forest, she at least wanted a running chance.

York didn’t even look at her.  “You have no shoes.”

She opted for a more direct route, “You could let me go.  I-I haven’t done anything wrong.”  Tears flooded her eyes, “I just want to go home.”

York kept walking.  “You are safe.  I thought I told you this.  We’ll take you to your ma…”  He didn’t finish the sentence, instead frowned at her before averting his eyes.  It was silent before he emitted a low growl.

Shy drew in a deep breath.  She was fading fast.  As usual, she was starving.  They weren’t fed often in the Megalya cells and after months of going without nourishment, her body had begun breaking itself down to find nutrients.  She was exhausted from the rescue and the emotional roller coaster she’d been on for the past few hours.  She wanted to laugh at how ludicrous the situation was.  She was alone in the forest with a stranger who had just growled at her and she was too damn tired and weak to care. 

Letting her head fall against his shoulder she felt his body tense before he inhaled deeply.  He spun slowly and shifted her body so he was able to reach down to his hip and retrieve a pistol before he lifted it straight out in front of him while silently taking a knee.  The action had Shy lifting her head to stare in the direction his weapon was pointed.

For long minutes she didn’t see or hear anything aside from the rustling of the wind through the pine trees over head.  Then she picked up a low humming sound.  As it got closer she realized it was an approaching vehicle.  Before she ever saw it, York re-holstered his pistol and stood.  When the jeep pulled out of the shadows with its lights off, Shy wondered how the driver
was able to maneuver the vehicle through the dark woods, let alone find two bodies hiding in the brush.

The jeep pulled to a halt and York jerked the back door open before climbing
in.  He kept Shy on his lap.  She recognized one of York’s men as the driver.  No words were spoken as they back-tracked for Tito then traversed the mountain side, finding a barely discernible road that led down to the highway and into a small town.

Chapter 3

Shy woke in a tiny motel room.  It smelled of musty carpet and cigarette smoke that had long since seeped into the walls before go
ing stale in refusal to disperse.  The bed she slept on was small and a broken spring was jabbing her in the ribs.  It was heaven!  She’d given up hope of ever being freed from the Megalya facility.  Now, her eyes flooded with tears at the simple pleasure of sleeping in a warm room on a mostly soft mattress.  Her stomach grumbled and as she’d done so many nights before she simply ignored it.

“I’m glad you’re awake.”

The words pulled her attention to a chair she hadn’t even noticed next to the window.  York’s massive frame barely fit in the weak looking piece of furniture.  He had the curtain pulled back a fraction and was scanning the area. 

Releasing the curtain he stood and stalked across the room to a table.  Shy’s eyes followed his movement and the instant she saw the bucket of chicken the scent of it hit her and had her stifling a moan of hunger.

York grabbed the entire bucket and fisted a handful of napkins before crossing to the bed and setting the chicken on Shy’s lap.  “Sorry, it’s the best I can do right now.”

With trembling fingers s
he reached up and grabbed a piece of the still warm, fried chicken and attacked it.  Too hungry to care that she was acting like a starving refugee, she devoured two pieces before she finally looked up and bashfully held the bucket out toward York.

The behemoth smiled and shook his head before his look changed to one of pity.  “Doc says you shouldn’t stuff yourself.  It’ll make you sick after so many days without.”

Shy pulled a greasy drumstick from between her lips long enough to ask, “Doc?”

York crossed back to the table and pulled a carton of milk from another bag.  He handed her the milk and she quickly folded the top open before downing half the contents in one swallow.

“Easy,” York admonished.  “She said not to give you too much.”  He shoved an indecisive hand into his hair, “I promised I’d ration your food, but damn if you don’t look ready to blow away.”  He went back to the chair by the window.  Bending to place his elbows on his spread knees he faced her.  “How often were you fed?”