So when he re-formed, it was… anywhere.
No, that was a lie. It was back at the fortified garage, the one the wolven had taken them to, where they’d gotten the stretchers for Kane and Mayhem, and more ammo and weapons.
Checking the exterior out for a second time, he found it such an unassuming structure, and he approved of the camouflage. And back whenthey’d be reconnoitering, before they’d headed up the mountain, the wolven had given them all the combination, so he let himself in.
Standing over the battered Monte Carlo, he replayed the escape as he breathed in the gas and oil fumes that still lingered, thick as if the car had just been driven. On a hunch, he bent down. Yup, something was leaking, like the vehicle had joined the injured ranks along with the rest of them.
With so many near-misses, they shouldn’t have made it out at all.
Where the hell was that wolven?
Not that he’d come here to wait for the male or anything.
As the skin on the back of his neck tingled in warning, he glanced out the milky glass of the window over the work bench. He was going to have to hunker down for the day and here was as good a place as any. He could only hope Kane and that female were okay wherever they were.
Looking around, he spaced for a second about how to get underground. Then he remembered the wolven going over to that bench and flipping something under the upper shelf—
“Thank fuck.”
As he repeated the male’s actions, a wooden toolbox nearly the size of a car left its seat and swung aside to reveal a set of stairs. There was no sound from its well-oiled hinges, no clue that it was anything other than it appeared. Lights went on when he began to descend into the darkness, and at the bottom, he was greeted by a sight that had stirred him the first time: Stacked against the smooth concrete walls, in boxes, bags, and various containers, there was an arsenal of weapons and ammunition. Dried food in drums. Water jugs. Flak jackets, winter coats, and snowshoes. Medical supplies.
It was all so well thought out, so organized, so useful, needed, and valuable.
The male who had assembled the collection of necessaries was a clear, practical thinker who wasn’t going to be taken unawares. He wasprepared. Thorough. Defensive when he had to be, aggressive when it was warranted.
Looking away, because in a weird sense, Apex felt like he was ogling the wolven himself even though he was just checking out the stuff the guy had, he measured the shower and toilet, which were out in the open, and the two cots that were off to one side.
But the admiration came back. If he had designed a space for a bolt-hole, he couldn’t have done a better job.
Behind him, the toolbox slid back into place, and he heard the catch of the copper lock. Glancing up, the steel mesh that covered the ceiling and the walls shimmered, and there was a flap of it that could be secured over the opening of the stairs.
That wolven was a damned mastermind.
Within moments, the resonant silence became as dense as the earth itself, and eventually, the shower in the tiled corner drew his eyes and held them.
As he went toward it, he passed by all the jackets that were hung on pegs—and stopped halfway down the lineup. Glancing around, even though he was alone, he leaned into one of the down coats that was camouflaged to look like leaves. His nostrils flared as he breathed in, and the scent that registered was a spice that he had done his best to shut out.
Except who was he hiding from down here?
Closing his eyes, he drew the wolven’s scent deep into his lungs and held it there. Something about the combination of spruce and fresh air made him feel warm under his skin—and like he could have happily blown ten or fifteen years of his life just standing at the parka and inhaling through his nose.
But because that was pathetic, even with no witnesses, he forced himself to keep going down the aisle that was formed by all the supplies. As he went along, he took off the guard’s uniform, starting with the gun belt, which he tossed on one of the cots. The bloodstained shirt was next, then the boots and the pants. He let it all fall wherever it did, notingthat if the clothes had been his, even if it had just been that tunic and loose pants, he would have treated them better out of habit.
Fuck those guards, though, even if it was only the uniform of a dead one.
By the time he got to the showerhead, he was buck-ass naked and braced for cold water and rotgut soap. Reaching to the handle, he—
The instant he made contact with the stainless steel, an electric shock went through him and he saw the dead, like a hologram overlapping reality. It was a male… hanging from the bolted-in fixture above, a brown belt around his throat… his naked body against the tiled wall, his legs extended straight out at an angle with no bend at the knees… the heels planted on the floor, the toes fanned out.
The eyes were open in the gray, frozen face, the dark-blond hair falling over the forehead, over the shoulders.
With a hiss, Apex retracted his hand and shook his head.
When he looked back again, the vision was gone—and stayed gone as he tried again to turn the water on.
Pivoting away, he put his back to where the body had been and set about clearing his mind by letting his head fall into the cold spray. When the temperature started to warm, he was so surprised, he stepped out and double-checked that everything was working. It was.
He put his palm out.