The Way Home (8 page)

He swallowed her cries with his mouth. Susan whimpered when he pulled away but realized he was only doing so to get rid of his pants. He was back on her mere seconds later, his hands pushing her legs far apart. She felt the stretch and knew that soon the sting of pain would accompany waves of pleasure. He was big, bigger than she'd had before but perfect, simply perfect in the way that he filled her so completely.

“Houdini.” She threw her head back and let herself go. Their bodies moved together, hard and fast, both desperate for the contact, for the rush of the ascent. Words that made no sense fell from her lips, and he answered with gruff cries of his own.

The intensity of the orgasm that followed sapped every ounce of strength from Susan's body. She fell back, Houdini crushing down on top of her. It was hard to breathe and not just because of his weight. She struggled to get a breath, to calm her racing heart.

“I feel like I just gave blood,” Houdini shifted off of her, pulled her close to his side.

“That's one hell of a compliment.” Susan pressed her lips to his chest, tasted the saltiness of his sweat. She looked up at him, saw that he was smiling. His eyes were half closed and she knew that soon they'd both be asleep. “Houdini?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” Susan felt her heart speed up even more, feared that she'd faint, but the words had to be said. If she was honest, she'd known it for a while but had never been brave enough to say it. The words had a power for her, they meant more than met the eye. The last time she'd given herself this way it had gone so horribly wrong. She could only hope that it would be different.

He held her tighter, rested his head against hers. “I love you too.”

<#<#<#<#

To keep herself from thinking about what was going on with The Vikings and Ethan Clark, Susan decided it was best to stay busy; the problem was, she didn't have much to do. It took only an hour to deep clean the small apartment and bathroom. She wasted another hour taking inventory of her meager medical supplies and setting up the second room as a temporary clinic of sorts. With everything so up in the air it seemed best to have a place on hand. The third room, Houdini's old room, would soon be occupied by the youngest Viking, Lane Harris, who had been living on top of the pharmacy before it burned down.

After the setting up, sweeping the warehouse from the dust and debris of the rebuilding and taking a second shower, there was nothing left to do but head out into town. She left on foot, taking her time and looking around. At least half of the burned houses had been razed, most of Main Street would be as well.

Her first thoughts on returning to town had been that it was like a war zone; it still had that slightly surreal feel to it, as if zombies were going to rise or aliens attack. The impossible had already happened here. They'd been burned out by an MC full of shifters and weres; it wasn't so farfetched to think that it could happen again.

“Hey Susan,” a singsong female voice called out. She turned her head to see Gina Sanchez standing on a perfectly manicured lawn, in front of a house that hadn't seen any damage.

“Morning, Gina.” Susan slowed her pace as the woman approached her.

“I was just wondering, how's Vera?” Gina tucked her hair behind her ears. “I've been by the house a few times. I think that she's still mad at me for freaking about her and Deacon Hawke, but come on, who would have ever guessed that would work out between them? I mean, his reputation alone is just...”

“They're very much in love. I've never seen either of them happier. I'll tell Vera that you were asking about her.” Susan had never much liked Gina and didn't see her opinion changing anytime soon. “Looks like you and Richard made out okay with everything.”

“We were lucky, very lucky. How is... Houdini?”

“He's good.”

“I saw the guys working on the warehouse, it looks like it's coming along.”

“It is, and I actually should be heading back, I just needed to get some air.” Susan didn't want to head back but she'd rather pace the warehouse than endure one more moment of Gina's company. “It was nice to see you.”

“Same to you. Please do tell Vera I was asking about her. I miss her.”

“Sure thing,” Susan was pretty sure that it wouldn't matter what she told Vera; she was still pissed at Gina and had been avoiding her. “Take it easy, Gina.” She smiled politely through the goodbye and headed back towards the warehouse.

She was distracted by thoughts of Gina and Richard, totally unaffected by the devastation in town. Richard's office was one of the few buildings in the center of town that had remained standing. It made her think think about the other businesses that had been left untouched. There was the dry cleaner and the funeral parlor. Curiosity drove Susan to walk past the houses of the families who owned them.

The Owens were the proud owners of a sprawling Victorian and it was in perfect condition. The McCoy family lived a few blocks over, in what Susan liked to think of as a mini-mansion, which was unscathed as well. The Clarks' house was closer to Rose's and when Susan walked past she saw it was in perfect shape as well. It couldn't be coincidence; there had to be a reason that Michael and The Grievers spared them all.

Susan reached for her phone, realized that she didn't have it and sighed. She'd need to head back to the warehouse to get it, call Houdini and tell him what she found. Even if she had to leave a message, there was a chance that he'd hear it before they were done with Ethan Clark. Maybe they could just ask him what the connection was, though that seemed entirely too easy.

As she walked, with more purpose than she had earlier, she realized that there were other houses in town that hadn't been damaged. Did they need to worry about every family who escaped complete destruction?

Susan realized she wasn't paying enough attention to her surroundings when a car horn blared; she'd nearly gotten run over crossing the street. She waved at the driver, mouthed that she was sorry and continued across the street. One thing was for sure, she needed to focus and get back to the warehouse as quickly as she could.

She began to walk with purpose, looking left and right to see if she noticed anything now that she was thinking more critically. A feeling of paranoia washed over her; she felt the hair on the back of her neck and arms stand up. She was being watched. Susan was sure of it. It took everything inside of her not to break into a run, but if she was right, she didn't want to let on that she knew.

Houdini's words from earlier echoed through her mind. He'd kissed her awake, told her that he had to go. He told her to carry her gun if she left the warehouse. Instead, she'd forgotten it in her examination room when it was possible that she'd need it. Houdini was going to be pissed when he found out, and she wouldn't be able to blame him—providing of course that she survived whatever was about to happen next.

A sudden screech of tires made her jump. She turned to the sound and saw a black Lexus SUV stopped about a block away. It moved forward quickly, its path veering away from the street, towards the sidewalk and her. Fear made Susan's body into stone. The SUV was close enough for her to see that the numbers on the license plate were blacked out, and still she could only watch, unable to do anything to escape what was quite certainly her death rushing towards her. And then it wasn't. With another screech of tires, the SUV came to a stop.

Susan took several steps backwards, trying for as much distance as possible as the truck reversed and turned back towards the road. Her heart was about to pop straight out of her chest. She couldn't breathe. As a doctor, she recognized all the signs of a severe anxiety attack, but the knowledge didn't make the feeling stop.

A scream started and then died in her throat as the tinted driver's window rolled down. She recognized the man behind the wheel. It was Rick. Rick, who had been declared legally dead because he'd been gone for so long. Rick had tried to run her down. He was alive. He was alive and in Center City.

It was all too much. The panic took over, and darkness followed.

<#<#<#<#

The first thing that registered in Susan's mind as she slowly woke was that she was cold, freezing cold. In fact, she was shivering. Complete darkness greeted her. Fear rose along with bile up her throat; she tried to sit up but soon realized she couldn't. She kicked her feet and realized she was in a box. And maybe in a moving car or truck, because she could feel the vibration of tires beneath her.

Her hands were bound, loosely enough that she was able to attempt to reach the pockets of her jeans but soon remembered that she'd left her phone at the warehouse. It took a few more minutes for her to remember anything, and from there it wasn't hard to connect the dots.

Rick had grabbed her. Susan just didn't know why or where he could possibly be taking her. What the hell had he been up to? How had he found her? There were more questions than answers; it made her head hurt. Everything hurt.

She was thinking clearly enough to know that she needed to stay calm and still, reserve her strength for the moment when the box opened. The fact that it might never open couldn't be a consideration. Instead of thinking about it, she thought about the one thing that always made her smile. Susan thought about Houdini, and it calmed her.

He'd realize that she was gone as soon as he got back to the warehouse. He'd see her gun still there and know that something was wrong. For the first time ever, Susan wished that she and Houdini shared the same sort of bond that Vera and Deacon did. Normally she was glad that there was no one inside of her mind except for her, privacy was important but she'd have traded it without hesitation to be able to just let Houdini know that she was in trouble.

Chapter Eight.

Ethan Clark was tougher than Houdini had given him credit for. He'd been worked over really well, carefully so that there would be no visible bruises since they were trying to keep this all as civil as possible. Or at least they had been, Deacon's patience seemed to be running out and Houdini couldn't blame him.

“I'm going to ask you one more time for the name of your partner.” Deacon leaned down so he was face to face with Ethan. “Answer me.” He stepped back. Ethan said nothing, his lips pressed firmly together. “This asshole really isn't going to talk,” Deacon turned to Houdini. “Fuck this, go and get his wife. Get Kim. We'll see what she has to say.”

“Leave her out of this!” Ethan cried out.

“Talk.” Deacon countered. The man fell silent again. “That's what I thought, go and get her, Houdini.”

“On it, Pres.” Houdini got to his feet, gave Ethan Clark a pitying look. He wasn't looking forward to grabbing Kim Clark, but it was going to be easy enough. She worked from home, some sort of web-based thing. He slid his phone from his pocket, dialed Susan's number and listened to it ring straight to voice mail. “Hey, it's me. We're going to be a while. Do me a favor and stick close to the warehouse, would you? I've got a fucked up feeling. I love you.”

Rita Clark answered the door when he rang the bell, smiled at him. “Hi, can I help you?” She was a pretty woman with light brown hair. She always seemed to be smiling. “Oh, Houdini? Right?”

“Right,” he replied. “Ethan told me to meet him here. I think he must have got stuck in traffic.”

“Only he could get stuck in traffic in Center City. Some things never change. Come on in, Houdini. Make yourself comfortable, can I get you a drink or something?”

“No, I'm good. Thanks.” He stepped inside.

“Don't be silly, it's no trouble and I just made a pot of coffee. I need another cup anyway. It looked like it was going to rain earlier, I'm glad it hasn't with all of the rebuilding.”

Houdini took stock of the house as he followed Rita into the kitchen where she headed to the counter. He knew something was off, the way that her hand trembled when she reached into a drawer. He'd expected a knife; the gun was a little more of a surprise, but nothing he couldn't handle. Houdini stepped forward before she could pull the trigger, knocked her hand back, and the round went into the ceiling.

“What the fuck was that?” He demanded.

“Ethan would never tell you to come here, ever.” She struggled against the hold he had on her. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Answers. Your husband doesn't want to give them, so you're going to.” He hit her wrist into the cabinet hard enough to make her release the gun. “Got to work on your speed, Sweetheart. Now, are you going to come with me the easy way or the hard way?”

“What do you think?”

Houdini thought that she was going to choose to be a pain in his ass. He was starting to wish he'd stopped by the warehouse, picked up some of the shots Susan said would put down a raging bull. “What if I ask you nicely to just come with me? That make a difference?” He doubted it would; that doubt confirmed when she spit in his face. With some regret, he brought his head forward, knocking her loopy with the impact.

It was easy enough then to spin her around, bind her hands with zip ties. He took a dish towel off of the counter, used that as a gag. He left her feet undone; there wasn't going to be much room for her to move around in the cargo area of the SUV anyway. He pocketed the gun that she pulled, did a quick search of the first floor and came up with two more.

Once she was secured in the back of the SUV and he was on the road, Houdini took his phone out again. Susan hadn't returned his call, not even a text. He dialed again, heard the mechanical greeting of her voice mail once more. “What's more interesting than calling me back, Babe?” He chuckled. “Are you waxing like you said you might? Anyway, call me back.”

Rita Clark had come around by the time he reached the Old Man's house. She kicked and fussed, but when Deacon came outside to help bring her in, she stood no chance. Her husband began to fight his restraints at the sight of her, but in no time she was tied down in a chair next to him.

“She pulled a gun on me,” Houdini informed Deacon as he took it out of his pocket. “Found two more on the first floor, figure there's more upstairs. Could send a couple of the guys over, replenish our stocks, so to speak.”

Rita Clark was staring daggers at The Vikings while her husband was looking at her desperately, as if any indication she'd even thought of him since entering the room would be enough. An idea was starting to emerge that Ethan wasn't the brains behind their operation. Maybe Rita was who they'd needed to have here all along.

“Interesting,” Deacon turned his attention to the woman. “I'm going to take the gag out and you're going to answer some questions or I'm going to cut your husband's fingers off one by one.”

Rita stayed still as he removed the gag. “Cut off his fingers. I'm not going to tell you anything except that you don't know who you're fucking with and after all this is over, I'm going to have your head mounted in my den. I've always wanted a wolf head. Don't look so surprised. Of course I know. Hell, the whole town knows. Anyway, like I said you don't know who you're fucking with. Now, the smartest thing you can do is untie us and let us leave.”

“Here's the problem, Rita,” Deacon leaned in close to her. “That is not going to happen and once I'm done taking bits off of Ethan here, I'm going to start taking them off of you.”

“Oh please,” Rita rolled her eyes. “You're Deacon Hawke, all honorable and shit. You're not going to a torture a woman. You don't have the balls.”

“That's where you're wrong, Rita. I don't get the answers I want and I'm going to start with these pretty nails of yours. They look acrylic, which pretty much sucks for you, makes getting them ripped off even more painful.”

Houdini felt a chill roll down his spine. The way Rita described Deacon had been pretty accurate back before everything went to hell; but now, he was a different man. A man capable of doing whatever it took to protect what he considered his. Still, Houdini nearly flinched when Deacon removed the pinky nail from her left hand.

“You ready to talk now, Rita? Or should I start on Ethan?” Deacon held the bloody nail in front of her face. The woman didn't even flinch. “Houdini, grab me the bolt cutters.”

It took Ethan Clark losing everything but his thumbs before Rita finally opened her mouth to speak. “Enough. You're looking for The Hunters, right?”

“Right,” Deacon dropped the bolt cutters to the blood soaked plastic. “Tell me who is in charge and where I can find them. Tell me, now.”

“They're everywhere and nowhere, rumor is they have a compound somewhere but they've never invited me there. All Ethan and I did was facilitate the transport of their merchandise.”

“Of people,” Houdini cut in. “You helped them transport people, with families and friends, to be hunted like animals.”

“They all were animals, at least once a month.” Rita smirked but only briefly. Deacon slapped her across the face. “Fuck, that was unnecessary. As I said, we only arranged transportation. The name on the documents was RI Ltd. That's all I know. Truthfully the money was too good to ask questions.”

“Was the money worth your life?” Deacon questioned. “You and Ethan helped move hundreds of people to their deaths. Do you really think that you're going to get away with that? That you can just walk away?”

“There's a traitor among you.” Rita blurted out the words. “I know who it is. If you kill me, you'll never find out.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because the level to which this person can, and intends to, betray you will bring everything tumbling down. Perhaps, if they're known to you, you can stop that and have a fighting chance. Really a fighting chance is the best that you can hope for.”

“Take her in the room, Houdini. Tie her to the bed, make sure she can't move. Put him in the closet. We'll let 'em rest a little. See if being cold and hungry for a while does any good.”

Houdini nodded, moved over and picked up Rita Clark, chair and all. It was easier than her struggling down the hall to what had been The Old Man's bedroom. She glared daggers at him the entire time but once she was secured to the bed, he didn't give her another glance.

He was ready to get back to the warehouse, to a computer where he could figure out just what RI Ltd was. If he could put a name to the company than maybe, just maybe, they'd have a way to find the head and maybe this could all finally end.

<#<#<#

“Susan, what the fuck?” Houdini shoved his keys back into his pocket and let the apartment door shut behind him. He'd gotten no call from her, even after the three messages he'd just left on the ride back. The moment he looked around the room it was clear exactly why she hadn't answered. It was because her phone was sitting on the battered dresser. The room was immaculate; he could still smell a combination of bleach and window cleaner in the air. He found the examination room, complete with Susan's gun, in the same pristine shape.

“Problem, Houdini?” Deacon questioned.

“Susan's not here. Her gun is, the gun I specifically told her to take with her if she left.” Houdini looked down at the gun in his hand. “I've been calling since this morning. I didn't think anything of her not answering.”

“All day?” The look of worry on Deacon's face mirrored what Houdini was feeling inside. There was something pressing down on him from above, his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that history was repeating itself, the woman that he loved was gone. “I'll call Adelaide, get the pack out looking for her, too. I'll head towards the woods in case she decided to change and lost track of time.”

“No, I'll go to the woods. It's alright, she's ready for me to see her. She told me.”

“That's big, Brother. That's huge.” Deacon grinned, despite the possibly dire circumstances.

“We need someone on checking into RI Ltd. It should be me, but I have to go and find her. I have to.”

“I know that, Houdini. We're going to find her. I'll get Eddie on it. He's a geek, he should be able to do the basics. Don't think about it. Just think about her.”

“We're going to find her.” Houdini couldn't have it any other way, couldn't deal with the idea that he would never see her face or hear her voice again. It wasn't an option. It couldn't be. Maybe she'd gone for a run, gotten hurt or gone to change and run into trouble. Had The Hunters found her? Had they taken her?

Something rose from deep inside of him, feelings that he'd thought were long dead. Anger so complete it took everything not to just let it slide over him. No, he needed to keep his head at least long enough to figure out what happened to Susan. When he found out, he felt sorry for anyone involved. History was going to repeat itself as far as the rampage he would go on, blood would flow like a river. Only this time, if she were truly gone, he'd end everything very differently. There would be no more finding a new place and starting over. No. Without Susan, there would be nothing.

Houdini kept moving for hours. He searched the woods, all the places that she'd ever mentioned. He went by her apartment and up and down every street. As long as he could focus on the next step he needed to take, he could hold it together. He made a second loop around town, past others doing the same. The search parties were a mix of pack members and Strays. He felt even more desperate when he realized they were working together because Susan had been good to them all.

Why the fuck hadn't he had someone watch her? She was his Old Lady, for fuck's sake, and he'd left her with no eyes on her. He hadn't protected her. Whatever was happening, it was on him. At least last time he'd been able to blame his brother; now there was no one else but him. Why hadn't he kept her safe?

“Houdini,” Shepard's voice startled him. He jolted when the man laid a hand on his shoulder. “The scouts have reached what they believe is The Hunters compound. It is deserted. There are signs that whoever was there left in a hurry, left things behind including papers from RI Ltd. It is time to talk to Rita Clark again.”

“Where's Deacon?”

“He's on his way there. I told him that I would come to get you. I want you to know that we will find her, she is a Stray, as are you. And if the outcome is bad, our vengeance will be swift and ferocious. You have my word on that.”

“Thanks, but if the outcome is bad, I'll handle it. She's my mate.”

“She would be the second love that you lost.” Shepard observed. “It seems to me that after losing someone that close to you, you'd be hesitant to enter into a similar situation.”

“I didn't plan on it, that's for sure.” But even now, he wouldn't change it. He would never change anything that took away from a second of the time he'd had with Susan. “Where's your mate?”

Shepard let out a low laugh. “I have no mate. Truly, I do not see the point of committing to someone, not when there are countless ways to find release. I cannot see how it's more than just a distraction but I know that you do not feel the same. I respect what you and Susan have for each other and will do all I can to help you get her back.”

“I know that you will, Shepard, and I appreciate that. Let's get over there, find out what this bitch has to say.”