Page 75 of Remington’s Mate

Jaeda edged to the hallway opening and peeked around the corner. Armed men in suits were moving into Colt’s hotel room. She heard crashes and the sounds of fighting, and then muffled shots.

Her heart was in her throat. Silencer? No. The sound wasn’t right.

Tranquilizer guns?

She heard the elevator arrive and the doors open, and peered out again. Help, maybe?

Hell, no. It was a man with nurse scrubs on under his outdoor jacket, and an empty wheelchair. He wheeled it into Colt’s room.

In less than a minute he came back, with Smith beside him. Colt was in the wheelchair, wrapped in a blanket, with a knitted hat pulled down over his head. His head was lolling.

Please, only knocked out, she prayed. Not dead.

They wheeled him down the hall and into the elevator. It was the perfect way to smuggle someone out of a hotel without attracting attention, Jaeda realized. They’d just wheel him into a handicapped van and off they’d go.

And that’s when she understood.

Sutcliffe was never going to show at the meet. He’d suggested it to throw Colt off track, planning on snatching him from the hotel before he even left.

The door to the room was still open; someone was standing in the doorway. The other men were still inside.

“Mr. Sutcliffe wants this place to look like we were never here,” the man in the doorway said. “Hurry it up. We need to get to the mental hospital and set up our perimeter. Perkins, you stay on watch here.”

The man walked away down the hall. As soon as he got in the elevator, Jaeda ran for the stairs. Thank the wolf gods she hadn’t taken her shoes off in the room, but she didn’t have a coat, or a purse, or a phone. At least she had her wallet.

She’d go out through the loading dock at the back of the hotel, just as Colt had planned. The truck they were supposed to use to get out to the meet site was right around the corner. She didn’t have keys, but she could hotwire it. Michelangela had taught her how the summer they were fifteen. Thanks, Mikey.

But first she had to warn the others.

There were offices near the loading dock. Everyone was gone for the day, so she used a lockpick from the secret pocket inside her belt to break into one and use the phone. Thanks, Auntie Rachelle.

Thank goodness she’d memorized Remy’s phone number. She’d been taught never to rely on having her phone with her in an emergency. Thanks again, Dad.

Remy picked up on the first ring. “Who is this?” he snapped. Of course—it would come up as an unknown number on his phone.

“It’s me.” She told him what had happened.

“I knew it,” he said. “I knew something happened to Colt. I’ve been trying to reach him. At least you’re okay. I’m coming for you now.”

“No,” she said. “There’s no time. You need to hack into their communications and see where they’re taking Colt. All I know is that they said something about a mental hospital.”

Which would be a good place to hide someone, actually. Drug them, and lock them in a rubber room in a straitjacket. No one would know they were there.

“I have money but no phone,” she said. “I’ll get a burn phone and call you back. You can tell me where to come.”

Remy hesitated, then said, “Call Brandon, okay? In case I’m flying.” He gave her the number.

Of course. If this was an out-of-the-way place, flying might be faster than driving back roads.

“Okay. Be safe,” she said.

“You too. I love you.”

And he was gone.

She touched the phone for a moment. I love you. Remy loved her. She knew it, but he’d never said it straight out before.

And she loved him too. She wished she’d had the chance to tell him.