Page 19 of Rescued

Kimberly, where are you?

She slipped the phone into the envelope and put it back in her purse, covering the hidden zipper with her jumble of stuff. She was back where she’d been last night.

Alone.

With people who might help her, or might not. Depending on what they found out about Quentin Moreno.

She wondered if she could even leave, if she wanted to.

She should at least go check this place out, see how good their security was, if it would be possible to borrow a vehicle. Or steal one, if she were desperate.

First thing she needed was pants. Unfortunately, there weren’t any. Switch seemed to own two pairs of jeans besides the ones he likely had on, and neither one would zip up on her.

Other than that, there was one pair of clean gray boxers. That was it.

Because of course, he wasn’t staying here.

Breanna pulled on the boxers—they were better than having her panty-clad butt hanging out. Her hair was a wreck, since she’d gone to bed with it wet, so she found a hair tie in her bag and put it up in a makeshift bun.

With her bag over her shoulder and her stupid high heels on, she went out onto the front porch, looking like a lost hooker. And stopped short.

There were two men lounging in lawn chairs in front of the cabin. She remembered seeing them both last night, and they didn’t look any less scary in daylight. One had longish brown hair, down to his shoulders, and the other had shorter hair and the expression—or lack thereof—of a serial killer.

They also had guns—big ones. And they were staring at her like they were considering using them on her.

“Um. Hi?” she said. “Who—who are you?”

The long-haired one said, “I’m Boomer. Weapons and explosives expert. I blow things up.” He gestured. “This is my brother.”

She tried a tentative smile. The serial killer’s face didn’t move a muscle. Apparently doe eyes didn’t work on everyone. “I’m Breanna. What’s your name?”

His voice was as expressionless as his face. “Boomer’s brother.”

Oookay then. “Um, is it all right if I just head over there?” She gestured to where she could see some cars and trucks parked.

“No,” Boomer’s brother said.

Boomer said, “What he means is, Gunn sent us over to make sure nothing happened to you. If you went over there, something might happen to you.” He stared at her, letting that sink in. “This is a dangerous place.”

Shit. Was he threatening her? She wanted to turn right around and go back inside, but her natural obstinance made her give it one more try.

She walked carefully down the steps, avoiding the hole she’d fallen into last night. “It doesn’t look that dangerous right now.” The sun was barely up, the birds were singing, and there were a few people going about their business across the compound.

Boomer’s brother was watching a group of men on the edge of the gravel lot where the vehicles were parked. They were having some kind of argument. He said, “Give it a minute.”

Suddenly, the three men they were watching exploded into wolf form, their clothes shredding and dropping away. The next moment they were rolling over on the ground, snapping and snarling, tearing at each other’s flesh.

Breanna flinched. They were really hurting each other. “Why doesn’t someone stop them?”

“Someone might,” Boomer said, pouring himself more coffee.

“Or they’ll just fight to the death,” said Boomer’s brother.

Breanna felt a little sick. “Maybe I’ll just… go inside now.”

“Good plan,” Boomer said. “And if you’re making coffee, our thermos is running low.”

Breanna watched from the cabin window as the leader from last night—Gunn—appeared from somewhere and strode up to the fighting wolves, yelling at them until they cringed.