Uncaged (2 page)

The boy flipped the middle finger then disappeared behind a corner.

“Whatever.” Returning to a brisk pace, he continued toward the jogging path ringing the city. On the edge of the riverbank, the water looked inky black. More than a mile passed under his feet when his intuition about the damn boy needled his conscience. The problem needed his attention and could not be ignored.

The boy echoed his situation. If not for the kindness of others, it could have been him climbing out of a dumpster. Last November he’d been at a wrestling match in another county when the news of his family’s car accident arrived, along with the warning things looked grim. Barely seventeen at the time, he’d been left with a lot of decisions to make without legal authority or experience to lean on.

Just thinking about it hurt. A sharp but fleeting pain twisted his gut and goaded his conscious to take action. He considered calling Leonora at child services to tell her he’d spotted a boy hiding in the business park. Take-no-nonsense Leonora had been an absolute angel to him. She’d assisted with funeral arrangements, housing, scheduled grief counseling, and made sure a financial settlement from the accident got set in motion. Without her help, he might have been so overwhelmed he would have returned to the dysfunction of the Black Hills Wolf pack, a fate his parents had been adamant to avoid.

Breathing hard against the cold air, he stopped and stared skyward. “This is fucked up.” Muttering, he changed course and returned the way he’d come. No way he could continue jogging, knowing a frightened kid roamed an alley on a night sure to drop below freezing.

The dark business park lay straight ahead. High-pitched cries, sounding like a tortured animal, greeted his ears. Muffled groans followed. He sprinted toward the disturbing noises that were definitely human. When he reached the site where he’d last seen the boy, the kid wasn’t alone. A large SUV blocked the mouth of the alley. Two men cornered the boy at a dead end. The kid struggled on the ground, moaning as if he’d been punched in the belly.

A dour-faced middle-aged man sat in the driver’s side of the vehicle with the window down, observing the scene. Shouting to the two other men, “This isn’t the place to deliver sentence. Put Chris in the car. Let’s do this somewhere else.”

Barely containing his rage at the sight of two burly men bullying a whimpering child, he roared out of the shadows. “Get the fuck away from that kid!”

A balding, heavyset man in his thirties turned to confront him, and shouted, “Who are you? This is a family matter—fuck off!”

His senses tingled. The Wolf within growled, wanting to come on strong. With muscles coiled, he battled the urge to shift and tear their throats out with his fangs. Aiming for the biggest guy, he ran and used his weight like a ramrod. Like a train wreck in slow motion, Baldie went airborne then slammed hard against a cinderblock wall. On impact, he slumped forward, but the punishment continued. Hooking a palm around the man’s neck, Mitch drew him downward, using body mass and gravity to advantage. He slammed the guy’s face against his raised knee. The crunch of nose cartilage striking bone followed. Taking a final coup, he landed an ax kick on the dude’s kidneys and buckled him flat.

“Stop!” A second man, with the same sort of pink jowly face as a pig, pulled a gun and aimed at Mitchell. He hovered near with his arm trembling. Sweat glistened on his brow.

Mitchell froze. The tang of adrenaline rolled off the second assailant’s skin. The man reeked of anxiety. The particular scent was familiar. He smelled it often on indecisive opponents who’d lost hope of victory and instead fought desperately for a way out.

“This is none of your business!” Pig-face appeared overwhelmed. With his gaze furtive, he shuffled his feet as if standing on a hot griddle. “Why the fuck did you have to show up?”

Mitchell studied the gunman’s chaotic body language, noting hesitation.

“Get back in the car!” a dour-faced man in the SUV bellowed. He revved the engine.

“Don’t rush me!” Shaky Gun’s attention wandered between the SUV and Mitchell. He looked perplexed. “This dude weighs a ton. Maybe we should kill him somewhere else?”

Baldie’s nose bled as he gurgled on the ground. “Jacob, you fucked up. This is way more than I want to be involved in.”

Jacob turned on his companion. “So it’s my fault? I’m not the jackass who let Chris jump out of a moving car.”

Sensing the men were distracted, Mitchell took a subtle step and positioned himself between the SUV and the kid. He shielded the boy who scrambled against the wall. With hands raised in surrender, he summoned his calmest tones. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m leaving. Now!” the man in the SUV snarled at his companions.

“Wait! I’m coming with you.” Baldie tipped his head back and moaned as he struggled to stand. “Goddamnit! Hurts like a son of a bitch! I can’t see a fucking thing.” Staggering forward, he blindly groped his way toward the SUV and climbed into the backseat.

Jacob tried to grab the boy by the wrist. “Come home, you little shit.”

“No!” The kid snatched his hand away then wrapped his arms around his folded knees to sob.

“Cut the crap!” Jacob snatched the child’s collar. “We’re going home.”

Mitchell loomed in Jacob’s face. “You better be ready to kill me and commit capital murder because I’m not going to let you take the kid.” The Wolf raged to the surface ready to fight. With calculated speed, he knocked the man’s arm skyward. The gun discharged into the air with an explosive blast. Pouncing, he knocked Pig-face down and kicked the gun to the end of the alley. With a harsh stomp, he brought his heel down on Jacob’s chest, then shoved him away with his foot.

“Goddamn!” Jacob wallowed on his side holding his ribs.

“Jacob,” the older man in the SUV screamed. “Get in the car or get left behind.”

Rising from the ground wheezing, Jacob limped forward clutching his abdomen. He flopped into the backseat, spewing obscenities. The SUV lurched into gear. With the tires squealing the vehicle rumbled away in a cloud of diesel fumes.

Amped from the intense encounter, Mitchell knelt to check on the boy. The child curled into a ball and hid his face in the crook of his arm. Grubby clothes and the smell of garbage hung heavy, but Mitchell detected something more ominous—the faint scent of blood.

A moment of seething disgust for the men followed. As a child in the Black Hills pack, he’d witnessed violence first hand. A rogue Alpha named Magnum had terrorized the pack with his brutal brand of leadership, sparing no one, not even the women and children. Magnum was the sole reason his parents fled Los Lobos. For their sake, he swore he would never tolerate a bullying Alpha again. He fished his phone out of his pocket, and then hit Leonora’s number on the speed dial.

Despite the late hour, she answered immediately. “Mitchell, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” He sounded shaken. “This call’s not for me. During a jog in the business park by the river—”

“By yourself at this time of night? Mitchell that’s unwise.”

“I found a boy here. Looks like he’s about twelve. He’s dirty, probably been living on the street for a while. Three men assaulted him. I think he’s taken a beating. I left my car in Hank’s parking lot. I’m scared to pick him up and move him.”

“Stay put. Keep your phone on. My apartment is less than a mile away. I’m going to call an ambulance and meet you there.”

Leonora’s actions were muffled in the background. All he had to do was wait for the cavalry to arrive. Turning toward the lump of quaking clothes on the ground with a boy inside them, he grazed a hand along the scrawny shoulders, checking for pained reactions or broken bones.

“Help’s coming,” he muttered in a reassuring voice.

“I don’t want help.” The child blubbered. “I want a ride home.”

“My friend, I’d like a doctor to look at you first. Were those men family?”

The kid blew his nose on his sleeve. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

Feeling alarmed, he made an effort to remain calm. “Why?”

“You’re an outsider, one of the riven.”

With a featherlight brush of his fingertips, he stroked the side of the child’s face. “I’m a what? What am I?”

“Riven. Set apart. One of the hopeless, living outside grace. I mean you live in a city don’t you?”

He didn’t like the words the child used. Riven, set apart. His secret life as a wolf-shifter left him painfully aware he was different beyond what many could accept. Already lonely, he did not want to be branded hopeless as well. Receiving even incoherent rejection from the child stung.

The kid inched closer and huddled against him. “I’m freezing.”

After drawing the hoodie over his head, he wrapped it around the child.

The kid clutched the sweatshirt like a shawl. “They were so scared of you.”

The Wolf salivated to sink its teeth into those men. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “They pissed me off. What they were doing is wrong.”

“I’ve never seen them run from anyone. You’re like a demon spirit.”

He liked that title even less than riven.

“Are you a man or something else?” The child’s voice filled with awe. “When you took the gun from Brother Jacob, you didn’t look completely human.”

“I’m not a demon, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He shook his head. “You have nothing to fear from me. I would never harm an innocent person.”

The child’s grip on Mitchell’s arm tightened. “Then I’ll call you my angel.”

“My name’s Mitchell.”

Sirens roared in the distance, drawing closer. Leonora’s green sedan rolled into the alleyway first. She jumped out of the car then ran toward them. Looking at the trembling child at his side, she gasped. “You absolutely did the right thing in calling me.” A decade of social work etched fanned lines around her compassionate brown eyes. “Mitchell, would you walk to the street and guide the ambulance in? I need to talk to the child in private.”

With reluctance, he rose.

The boy reached out with surprising speed and seized onto him. The kid held onto his hand with white knuckles. “Don’t go.” The words came out a raspy whisper. “Stay close. Protect me.”

Leonora observed the gesture in silence.

He patted the delicate hand. “It’s okay. I’m coming right back.”

Holding tighter, the kid refused to let go. “You’re the only one who’s ever stood up to him.”

Pursing her lips, Leonora leaned over the child. “Who is ‘him’?”

With a gentle touch, Mitchell disengaged the child’s slender fingers. “Tell Leonora your story. She can help you. She helped me.”

“Promise you’ll come back.” The kid sounded worried. “I know I’m safe with you.”

“I promise I’ll come back.” He walked to the end of the business park and waited at the curb. The sirens he’d heard earlier were obviously headed somewhere else. It seemed like an eternity before the ambulance appeared with red lights flashing. He directed the driver down the alleyway and followed after they passed.

From a respectful distance, he watched the paramedics raise the child’s shirt and palpate the abdomen. With a loud groan, the kid writhed in agony. Everyone looked concerned, which worried him. When Leonora blurted the words “rape kit,” Mitchell cringed. Whatever happened to that poor kid was so twisted and wrong.

Medics lifted the child onto a gurney and rolled it toward the ambulance.

“Come here,” the kid shouted to Mitchell. “Ride with me!”

Ignoring the demand, the paramedics loaded the child inside, shut the doors, and drove away.

Leonora waved to him. “Mitchell, I’m going to meet them at the hospital. Thank you for doing a kind deed. You can go home now.”

Leonora’s dismissal felt like a slap in the face.

“I overheard you say that he might be a victim of….” How could he say something so painful? “That he might have been…. Maybe I can be there to support him?” He was already invested in the kid’s fate. Walking away now would be heart wrenching.

Leonora’s gaze dropped. “Mitchell, he is a she. Christy is a thirteen year-old girl, fourteen in December. From the preliminary examination and from what she told me, she’s about six weeks pregnant. They beat her in this alley. Now, it appears she’s having a miscarriage. She told me the man driving the SUV claims to be her spiritual ‘husband’ and goes by the name Reverend Simon. After we stabilize her, I’m going straight to the police to file charges and request a full investigation.”

“Holy crap!” The world spun.

“She’s running away from some sort of cult. I appreciate your offer of help, but for Christy’s comfort, we’re going to try to keep men away and win her trust while we help her. There’s a lot to sort through. No doubt a high-profile criminal case will follow. Christy is going to need years of therapy and privacy to heal. Do you understand? Don’t take it personally.”

“Of course I understand.” He didn’t, but he said it anyway.

“I saw the way she looked at you, clung to your hand. When you walked away, she tried to get up and follow. She kept saying you were the only one who could make her feel safe. Some pretty weird stuff came out of her mouth, too. She said, during the attack, you looked like a fanged beast and that your eyes glowed amber like an ‘avenging angel.’ Those are her words not mine. What you did for her is wonderful, and I’m not saying anything against it, but we have to practice caution. Christy is very needy, abused, and possibly brainwashed. If she’s going to heal and survive, she’ll have to learn to trust and rely on a lot of different people, but most of all herself. Another male savior to idolize is the last thing she needs.”

His heart sank. “You want me to stay away?”

“For now, yes.”

Yet another dark pit opened inside to suck his spirit down. He felt horrible for Christy and worse that he couldn’t be there for her. “Will you keep me in the loop? I need to know she’s all right.”

Leonora searched the pockets of her moss-green quilted coat and pulled out her car keys. “Mitchell, she’s a minor. If she’s formally assigned to me, I’ll have to protect her privacy. Everything beyond this point will be confidential. I’m sorry it has to be that way. You understand.”

Once she located the keys, she took a step toward her car. “I have to go. They’ll be waiting for me.” She loitered for a tense moment. “Even though you turned eighteen in September and you’re not technically part of my caseload anymore, I’ll always care about you. I’d like to check in now and then. The settlement for your family’s accident is pending. It could take months, perhaps another year, but I’ll help. Why don’t we meet for coffee sometime?”