“Okay, cool.” He kept it light, but he wanted to ask who this alien being was and what he’d done with Con. Which was not fair.
He knew Con and his brothers helped Quin with omega rescue. He’d just assumed Warrick and Ryder did the heavy mental lifting.
“Give me the coordinates in case we get separated. I don’t want you getting in a bad spot, and me to have to go wandering around hollering really loud.”
Race snorted but dropped him a pin. “You ready?”
Con grabbed his helmet. “Let’s do this.”
Wild. It was genuinely wild. Con simply started up the bike, and they headed out.
No chatter over the headphones, no anything. Just silence.
Race wasn’t going to ponder the fact that it had felt good to have somebody distracting him with chatter. It was amazing to have something to listen to that wasn’t the nonsense in his own head.
That shit could be loud and fucking depressing.
But Race bit his cheek and kept quiet, running scenarios through his head. The bunny was in deep with a couple of alphas who were known traffickers. They sucked in omegas with promises of a job and place to stay and made nice to begin with.
But then things would get ugly.
They had someone on the inside, and they didn’t have much longer to get the rabbit out, he was afraid, before the omega was stuck in a cage and shipped overseas to be eaten alive by a wolf or a tiger or something.
They pulled up to the warehouse district, the buildings rundown and seedy, the air of the place seeming to suck the sun out of the sky.
Race killed the bike, wanting to come in as close as possible so that they didn’t have to run so far with the bunny, but also keeping things quiet.
Connal followed his lead, and the guy could be super-silent for someone who took up so much space and attention. It felt a little unnerving to be honest. He was used to bouncy, loud Con.
And he liked that one best, if he was honest.
But he could work with this. He held up a hand, then pointed Con toward the back of the building while he took the front.
Got it.
Race blinked. What the hell was that?
What’s wrong?
There was no way he could be hearing Connal in his head.
No fucking way.
He was just projecting. It was nerves. He didn’t have time for nerves.
The bad thing about these buildings was that the windows were made to keep thieves from burgling the place. That meant they were high up and challenging to get to.
Good thing he knew how to climb, and he was damn good at it.
He got himself up, scaling the building with as little noise as possible, and peered through the dirty window.
He could see a single rabbit shifter, white hair seeming to glow in the dim lighting, wearing an old pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt. He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, bound hands in his lap. Not fuzzy at all.
Race didn’t like that. Why would anyone just be sitting in the middle of the room with nothing around him? That screamed a trap.
I don’t like this.
What’s wrong?
