“It—” He broke off, looking annoyed. “Enough stalling.”
He picked up the tranquilizer guns, stuck them in his belt, and started to drag her away.
At the top of her lungs, Catalina yelled, “SHANE! HELP!”
When the echoes of her voice died down, she heard nothing but the sounds of her own feet scuffling through the dead leaves. The man kept on hauling her through the woods.
Catalina felt an unpleasant flutter of fear, for Shane as well as for herself. Noise carried a long way in this sort of country. He couldn’t have gotten far away enough to miss her yell in such a short time. In fact, he should have heard her the first time she yelled. And he could run like lightning in his panther form. So where was he?
“Shane!” Catalina shouted again.
“Don’t bother. He’s not coming for you.”
We’ll see about that, she thought. Shane said any shifter can track by scent. And this guy isn’t even bothering to walk through water. Once Shane gets back from wherever he is, he’ll be on us like white on rice.
As if he had read her mind, the man said, “I don’t mean that he can’t. I mean that he won’t. Garrity doesn’t come back for people. He’s long gone.”
Indignantly, Catalina burst out, “What do you know about him?”
Her captor turned his cold black gaze on her. “I know enough.”
She fell silent, remembering Shane’s story. He had killed for Apex. But not by choice. And he’d eventually decided that he’d rather die than do it again. He’d come back for her.
If he could.
She chewed nervously on her lip, once again worried for him. What had happened to him? Had he been injured in the fight with the bear? He must have been. Or could he have gotten lost? Maybe he could track other people’s scents, but not his own. She hoped that was it.
Despite the dim light and difficult terrain, the man was hurrying her along at a rapid pace. She ought to do something to delay him. It would be much easier for Shane to fight just one enemy, out in the wilderness, than if he didn’t reach her until she was already locked back up in the base.
She considered her options. The man’s grip on her arm was tight as a steel clamp. If she pretended to be sick or hurt, he’d just throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They’d probably move even faster if he was carrying her than if they continued walking.
The only thing she could think of was to try to befriend him and persuade him to let her go, which seemed about as likely to succeed as wishing herself a pair of wings to fly away. But she was out of other options, so she said, “My name’s Catalina Mendez. What’s yours?”
“None of your business.”
“None Of Your Business, that’s unusual. Is it a
family name?”
He didn’t so much as crack a smile. Nor did he reply. He just kept walking, hauling her along.
Tactics that don’t work, she thought. Number one: small talk. Number two: wisecracks.
Let’s see if guilt-tripping works better.
“I’m a paramedic,” she said. “I’m not in the military. I didn’t sign up for this. I’m a working woman with a family. And friends. And cats. My family is going to think I’m dead!”
“Join the club,” the man retorted, unmoved.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Catalina asked, now genuinely curious. “Were you kidnapped too?”
That seemed to strike a nerve. He actually stopped, whipping around to face her. “If you ask me one more question, I’ll tranquilize you.”
She could tell that he meant it. “Okay. Sorry.”
He yanked on her arm, dragging her forward again. But she silently exulted. Guilt-tripping was working!
“You know what they’re going to do to me, right?” Hastily, she added, “Rhetorical question! I know that you know. They’re going to force me to go through the ultimate predator process. It’ll probably kill me. Are you okay— oops, question— I mean, please just take a second to think about whether you’re really okay with dragging an innocent civilian woman to her death.”