Rye stuffed the one rat in, then waited for the other to shift down and go in willingly.
“I’m serious. We’re not the bad guys. We’re good. No jostling these two.” Nolan seemed so serious.
“They’ll be in your vehicle,” Con murmured.
“I was telling Rye, not you.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” Con beamed at Nolan. “I would squash them a little. Just for fun.”
“You think? Race would eat them. In parts.”
Race blinked innocently. “Moi? Nah, rats are not nice to eat.”
“True.” Con warmed to the subject. “They eat weird stuff.”
“Trash. Not nice garbage like us,” Warrick agreed.
“Right? And we forage for real food too. Okay. Let’s go. Race and I will take point as we’re fastest.” Con bared his teeth at his brothers.
He wanted to get this over with. He needed to get Race his brother back. It was the only answer.
Chapter
Twelve
Race loved being on his bike. It centered him. Calmed him. The roar of the motor. The vibration between his legs. The feel of the wind.
And looking sideways to see Con next to him helped too.
They were going to have to shut the bikes down soon, though, or the people holding Milo would hear them coming.
The rats had given them coordinates, and they didn’t love it, having someone else untrustworthy lead them. So they would go in careful, quiet. The rats had been sedated ten minutes ago.
Race wasn’t sure that was the safest thing, but it was the kindest thing, and goddess knew his brother was all about kindness.
Asshole.
He rolled his eyes at himself. He adored Nolan, and he was glad, after all his brother had been through, that he still had that core of sweetness in him. Race? Was all snips and snails and I’ll eat your damn puppy dog tails.
A few minutes later they pulled into a culvert far enough from the house to be quiet and parked. Con covered their bikes with some brush he dug up from around the area, which would be good enough to keep people from seeing them from the road.He hoped they were going to be able to make a decent approach. Race nodded at Con and they started forward, staying low.
There was absolutely no way these guys weren’t waiting for them. One hundred percent this was going to be a trap, but it didn’t matter. They had to do this, because he wasn’t going to let Milo sit and rot in some magical state of non-shiftiness. None of them were circus bears, and he was not going to have them treated like caged animals.
Con touched his mind, kind of shushing him mentally, and he got it. He was throwing off all sorts of vibes loud enough that somebody would eventually be able to hear him. If nothing else, Milo might catch his thoughts and then become agitated.
He really needed that vacation after this rescue.
I got your back, baby. I told you, any place you want to go.Con’s mind, when it touched his, was remarkably calm. His ADHD bear was ready for this, and he wasn’t about to let himself get shot again. Race could absolutely feel his determination.
He could also feel Nolan out there somewhere, but they had agreed to come in from random locations so they couldn’t give each other away if one of them got caught. They had to do this smart, fast, and quiet.
They crept forward, and he let Con take point so he could take the back trail. Somewhere he knew War was back there behind him, with Rye and Nolan coming from another direction, but there was still a lot of land mass between them and this abandoned bullshit farmhouse or whatever, and also between where they’d parked and them.
A house came into view, lights barely glowing in the windows because they’d obviously covered them with something, maybe blankets or towels or newspapers. Who knew?
Con stopped him with a hand on his arm, and he could barely see his mate in the gloom of the sunset. He could see Con jerk hischin in one direction, then tilt his head the other. He was saying he wanted them to split up.
Race shook his head. No, he didn’t like that idea at all. Last time they had split up, Con’d gotten himself shot. Con bared his teeth at him, but Race stood firm. He wanted them together.
