He could handle this without shifting. Probably. He hoped.
Turning to Fenella, he said in her ear, “Whatever you do, don’t open this door.”
In a single smooth motion, Carter stepped out of the door and shut it behind him. As the three men started to leap up, he grabbed a fire extinguisher and slammed it into one kidnapper’s jaw. The man he struck went down, flopping ungracefully over a duffel bag.
As the other kidnappers rushed him, Carter dropped and rolled, then rose with a heavy duffel bag in his hands. He used it like a battering ram, shoving both the men backward. One scrambled out of the way, but the other tripped over a tool bag on the floor and fell over backward. Carter dropped down on top of him and pinned him with one hand on his chest. He raised his other fist, intending to knock the kidnapper out with a punch to the jaw.
Something exploded under his hand with a loud bang. Carter jerked back with a yell of surprise and pain, echoed by that of the kidnapper. The man’s jacket pocket was smoking and blackened, making unsettling popping noises. Sparks shot from ruined cloth.
Things went south very fast after that.
Fenella Kim flung open the cargo hold door and charged out, screaming at ear-splitting volume, “CARTER!”
“Fenella!” Carter yelled. “Get back in there!”
The kidnapper with the mini-bomb or whatever had exploded in his pocket took advantage of his distraction, flinging himself forward and knocking Carter over backward. The back of Carter’s head slammed into the floor, exactly where the kidnappers had hit him before, leaving him dazed. A lump of smoking, sparking, popping plastic and metal fell out of the kidnapper’s jacket pocket and onto Carter’s chest. As if in a dream, he recognized a half-melted cell phone.
Now the explosion made sense. Ever since he’d been experimented on, electronics had a tendency to explode or catch fire or short out when he was around.
The third kidnapper pinned Carter’s arms behind his head.
A man came out of the cockpit with a wet cloth in his hand. The co-pilot, presumably. He ignored Fenella and headed straight for Carter. The sharp chemical smell of ether was unmistakable.
Carter struggled to get up, but he was being held down by two people and the knock on the head made him feel like he was moving in slow motion.
Fenella picked up a rolling soda can and hurled it at the man with the ether cloth. It bounced off his head, making him stagger.
“Bill!” called the man who’d been beaned by a Sprite. “Get her!”
Bill, whose jacket was still smoking, lunged and grabbed Fenella, pinning her arms in a bear hug. She stomped on his foot with a stiletto heel. He let out a yell of rage and pain, but didn’t let go. Instead, he jerked her off her feet and held her in the air.
The man with the ether cloth dropped down beside Carter, his hand driving toward Carter’s face.
His only chance now was to shift. Whatever hideous shape he assumed, it was very likely not to have its breathing apparatus near the ether.
Fenella was struggling furiously, kicking and thrashing and screaming loud enough to wake the dead. If Carter shifted now, she’d see him for the monster that he was.
He hesitated.
The ether cloth came down across his face. The last thing Carter heard before everything went black was another anguished cry from Bill as Fenella bit him.
Chapter 3
There isnothing more unpleasant than waking up lying in something wet and sticky, other than waking up with a headache while lying in something wet and sticky. When Fen woke up, she realized that the worst awakening of all was that plus opening her eyes and seeing the giant face of her business rival and enemy hovering over her from six inches away.
She recoiled. “Get away from me!”
“Sorry I checked to make sure you were alive,” Carter said grumpily, moving back.
Her memories returned in a rush. Apparently she really had gotten kidnapped with Carter Howe, because there he was, lying beside her and propped up on his elbows. But where were they?
“Sorry,” she muttered. “You were… close.”
“I woke up beside you about thirty seconds ago,” he said, scowling. “I haven’t even had a chance to sit up yet.”
They sat up, wincing. Carter obviously had a headache too, and her recoil had jammed the back of her head into a mud puddle. They looked around.
“What the actual fuck,” she said.
