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Maybe, Benny thought. And if they wanted to believe it badly enough, they might have accepted it. He never ceased to be amazed at what people could make themselves believe. Just as Jessie’s family seemed to have accepted her situation as a sacrifice for the good of the whole family. But he hadn’t heard anything at Margarite’s about missing daughters of the Vancouver pack. He frowned. Hostages for the families’ good behavior? Might be. But why hadn’t they said anything when Chen was killed? He would need to call the new Vancouver Alpha —Gerard Gauthier. Wasn’t that his name?
Which reminded him, he needed to call Geoff, too, and tell him to send up a couple of security teams. They needed some men they could trust, and while he considered — tried to consider — most of this pack to be abuse victims, that didn’t necessarily make them trustworthy.
“There,” Amanda said, sounding relieved. “I recognize that house. We need to turn left there.”
“Do you want to get back in the car? Or continue on foot?” Benny asked. He was enjoying the walk actually. The cold air was helping to clear his head. It had been a long time since he had lived in this central plateau region, but he thought it felt like they might get snow.
“On foot?” she said tentatively. “It feels good out here.”
Benny nodded. “I don’t know if it was said earlier,” he said gently, “but I’m a psychologist — licensed and everything.” He laughed when she stared at him. “I know, I know. A shifter psychologist. But it will help eventually to talk to someone. Either me, or Jessie, perhaps. She’s got her bachelor’s in psychology. The women we rescued from the pack house found her helpful to talk to.”
Amanda swallowed hard. “I don’t know what we will do,” she whispered. “I can’t go back home. I’m not the person who left.”
“No, you’re not,” Benny agreed. “You survived something most people couldn’t. And you escaped and risked a lot to find help for you and your friends. You’re a strong person, Amanda, and I respect you a lot. But Ryder won’t leave you hanging. He’ll take care of you. I promise.”
She attempted a smile. “And you’re his big brother, right?” she said. “He has to do what you say?”
Benny laughed, heartened by her attempt at humor. It spoke well for her eventual recovery. “I can still kick his ass,” he bragged. She laughed. It sounded rusty, like it had been a long time since she’d used it, but it was a laugh.
There was a car parked in front of the house Amanda led them to. Benny stopped a block away. It was a tan SUV, and it reminded him of the one that had come out to the bikers’ camp with Bjorn Hansen. “Amanda? Was that car there when you left?”
She stared at it for a moment, then shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t think there were any cars parked on the street on this block. It was midnight, or close to it, when I crawled out. So people would be home, right?”
Benny looked around. It was a nice, middle-class neighborhood — full of people who apparently minded their own business, he added sourly to himself. But there weren’t any cars on the street —most of the houses had two-car garages, for one thing. As Amanda said, they’d be at work now. And at home asleep when she escaped.
But there was that SUV. Ryder pulled up next to it and got out of the Jeep. The guards on the bikes pulled up next, followed by Titus in his pickup, and then Duncan in his pickup with Dennis. Well nothing conspicuous about a dozen people congregating on the street corner, he thought wryly. The motorcycles alone were going to get attention. One of these houses probably had some old busybody peering out the window right now, wondering if they should call the cops.
So why hadn’t they called the cops on a house with four women held captive? Abby’s lecture on how women disappeared all the time and no one seemed to notice seemed appropriate here, he thought. This was how.
“So, how do we do this?” Ryder asked in a low tone. “I don’t like that SUV parked there.”
Duncan grimaced. “It does look like a pack vehicle,” he admitted. “We’ve got about a half-dozen SUVs like that. They’re actually in the feed store’s name. But they’re pack vehicles.”
He really needed to go by and see that feed store, Benny thought irrelevantly. “Then we do it by the book, and assume there are guards in there holding hostages,” he said crisply. “Ryder? You and I go up to the front door. Titus? You, and the McKenzies stay with Amanda and Jessie. Three of you,” he added with a nod toward Ryder’s bikers, “need to go in through the back. And the other three stay here, poised to go in, if necessary.”
“I’m going in with you,” Jessie said firmly. “The women will be terrified,” she added. “And they’ll know me.”
Benny nodded. Sound enough reasoning. And she was the pack Second, he reminded himself. He needed to treat her that way —and get her some goddamn fighting lessons! He looked at Duncan. “You’re in charge of damage control,” he said. “Neighbors? Cops? You’re the local businessman, right? You’re point.”
Duncan nodded.
“Ken? You’re Dennis’s guard. He’s a doctor —our medic,” Ryder added. “If you hear me whistle, bring him in, double-time.”
“Got it,” the man said. Dennis looked at him askance but didn’t say anything. Ken was Ryder’s de facto Second among this team, and he was a good man. But he looked like a biker — big, decked out in black leathers, a sweatshirt with the sleeves torn out to show off his tats, even in this weather. Buzz-cut black hair, black sunglasses.... It looked like he’d seen a biker movie one too many times.
Or maybe, the movie producers had seen him?
“Let’s do it,” Ryder said, and started across the street. Jessie took the pack Second’s place at Ryder’s right shoulder. Benny took the left.
“I’m shifting at the first sign of trouble, once we’re inside,” Jessie said under her breath.
Benny didn’t argue. The woman shifted faster than anyone he knew. She had kicked off the shoes as soon as she was in position last night. Then when she needed to shift, she pulled off the sweatshirt, and shifted, as it fell. The pants fell off. And there she was in wolf form.
Helped that she didn’t bother with a bra. But why didn’t men pull off the sweatshirt first like that? Well, it meant covering your eyes for a bit — the idea of being blinded going into a fight? Still, he’d torn through more than one sweatshirt.... Hell, he’d probably torn through a half-dozen in the last two weeks!
It had been a rough couple of weeks.
He thought he might try it her way — sometime when no one was watching. She made it look graceful, but he had his doubts.
