Saving Suki (Horse Mountain Shifters Book 4) Read online

  The ridge wasn’t as tight of a fit when he wasn’t shifted but somehow seemed more claustrophobic, perhaps because of the additional time required to cover the distance. Once he exited out into the open, he enjoyed the hike a lot more and took his time. Twice, he’d considered calling Suki, but the first time he still didn’t have a signal and the second, a tiny worry in his gut forced his phone back into his pocket. Now he could see part of the house from where he stood. She should have had time to shower and dress by now.

  Retrieving the phone, he made the call. After a few rings, her voicemail greeted him. “Hey, Suki. I guess, maybe you’re still in the shower…I’ll be back soon…um…if you get out in the next few minutes or so, be on the lookout for me.” Ugh…so rambling and stupid. He listened to the send options before deleting his message and hanging up, deciding to wait and speak to her in person.

  Why’d she run off? If she didn’t like anal, she should have told me to knock it off. He rubbed his chin as he walked along the path leading out to the backyard. Could have been the arm twisting…don’t usually do that—not sure why I was so carried away. Couldn’t help it…felt like something deep inside was urging me to fully make her mine.

  Mal arrived at the house to find the garage door still open, surprising him. He figured Suki would lock up since he knew the codes. He soon realized Suki’s car was missing. He put the bag down before removing the blanket and Suki’s clothing. After securing the room and engaging the alarm, he headed inside to the laundry room. As he stepped inside, he breathed in the scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener. He checked the tags on Suki’s clothing to make sure they could be washed together in the machine with the blanket before throwing everything inside the front-loading machine.

  The black washer and dryer were different than the older model, cream-colored ones he remembered. He scoffed. I can’t remember the day I supposedly took the junior barrel racing grand champion title, but I can remember standing in here folding clothes while laughing and chatting with Mama Carol.

  He took his phone out of his pocket again and called Suki. She didn’t answer, and he left a message: “Hey, sweetie. I’m sorry I missed you. Where’d you run off to in such a hurry? I hope it wasn’t anything I did. Please give me a call when you get a chance.” He hesitated, debating saying he loved her but the phrase caught in his throat and he hung up without listening to the sending options or giving himself a chance to delete.

  After the washer finished, Mal transferred the clothes to the dryer. He waited until they were done and folded everything before attempting to contact Suki again. She didn’t answer, and he didn’t leave a message. Instead, he sent a text saying basically the same thing as his previous message had prefaced by “Not sure if you got my voicemail.”

  He took a shower and dressed before checking his phone, but there was no message from her. What the fuck? He tried to distract himself by snooping through some of his dad’s stuff, but being in the master bedroom felt ominous, and the room where the old man had slept during his last days smelled like medicine. As his gaze fell on the bedside table, his eyes widened and he rushed over to see the picture of his mother. There was a large painting of her in the foyer, but he’d never seen a photo of her.

  A lump formed in his throat as he eyed the image of the pretty, young brunette, sitting up in bed and cradling a baby swaddled in a yellow and blue blanket. He couldn’t see much of her face because she was looking down at the infant, but he could tell she was smiling. He wasn’t one for crying, but his eyes welled. He was holding a framed photo of what was probably the last picture of her alive. He held the frame to his chest, blinking a few times before looking at the rest of the pictures.

  There was one of his parents when they were probably in their twenties. His mother posed sitting on his father’s lap on a park bench. He’d never seen his father smile like that. A single tear brushed down his cheek. He wished he’d know this man, but he was gone by the time Mal was old enough to know his dad. He glanced at the other three framed photos and lifted an eyebrow. They’re all of me.

  He smiled at the first photo of him sitting on his horse, Cheyanne. He estimated his age as about twelve. The senior portrait taken by a photographer at school had been placed in a silver frame with the date of his graduation etched by his name beneath, and the last picture, a snapshot of him and Dash in their football uniforms after a game showed the two dirty, sweaty, and exhausted but beaming with happiness. He didn’t remember when the picture was taken but he figured Mama Carol must have taken it before taking them home for dinner. He doubted his dad went to any of his games before the accident, and he vaguely recalled Mama C taking them for ice cream when they won.

  Mal wasn’t sure how his dad ended up with the photo unless he’d simply been too embarrassed to refuse when his housekeeper offered him a copy of a picture of his son. He stared at the photo of him on Cheyanne. He remembered adoring that damn horse, but he didn’t look very happy in the picture. He squinted, raking his brain. Fuck…now I remember. He covered his mouth as he laughed. I was pissed because he made me stop riding for the picture. He never took pictures of me, but needed one for the insurance and said by the time I got my ass out of the saddle, it would be too dark.

  I wonder if the old man kept these by his bedside or if Suki put them there. She said he loved me. He started feeling choked up again. Why didn’t he tell me? He hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. I wouldn’t let him. I regret not reconciling with him before he passed away. I didn’t know his time was short, but I knew he was old. I should have reached out.

  He removed the case from the pillow before carefully folding the fabric around the photos of his mother with him and his mother with his father. He hadn’t thought he’d care about having anything of his father’s but he planned to keep those pictures forever.

  An ache in his chest and a pit in his stomach left him with a profound need to tell Suki how he felt about her. He checked his phone again and sighed when he saw she hadn’t contacted him. He typed another text: Hey Suki, there’s something I really need to say to you in person. Please call me back as soon as you get this message. Honestly, I’m starting to get a little worried. If I don’t hear from you within the next thirty minutes, I’m calling the police.

  Less than five minutes later, Mal received a reply: Fuck off, already! You know what you did so don’t contact me for a while.

  His heart crashed down into his stomach and he sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped as he held his head in his hands. Fuck!

  Chapter Twelve

  Suki seethed from within the trunk of her car. She’d never been so pissed in her life. She was mad at herself for recklessly running off on her own, mad at Mal for his bright idea of shifting in the garage and leaving the door open, and mad at both of them for being so stupid as to leave the back door unlocked and the security alarm off after a break-in just a few nights ago. Most of all, she was pissed at the fuckers who snuck-up behind her with an ether-dipped rag before hauling her ass into the trunk. At least she’d had enough time to throw on a sweatshirt and jeans before they accosted her, but the balled-up rag shoved in her mouth and the black bag over her head added another layer of indignation. She wasn’t sure what they’d fastened around her neck. It felt like a turtle-neck only tighter, and she didn’t like it one damn bit.

  Oh, I’m gonna get you, you son-of-a-bitch. She had struggled hard before succumbing to the drug and she’d recognized the voice of the mother fucker who was calling her all kinds of nasty names while he tried to subdue her.

  She stretched her fingers, touching the bindings on her wrists. Zip ties. Nice try, assholes, but you stupid motherfuckers forced me into my own trunk. She could still smell the flowery tinge of the full bottle of cheap perfume that her baby cousin had forgotten to replace the cap on while playing with her stuff. Suki had tossed her purse right in the boot without a second thought—the purse had been ruined, and even after repeated scrubbings, a blast of frag
rance smacked anyone who opened the back-cargo area right in the face for months. I’m a Marks…you don’t think I’ve been prepared for this scenario?

  She scooted as close to the hatch as she could, feeling around the seam of the interior. From the outside of the car, the area couldn’t even be seen without dipping the head in an unnatural fashion, so no one would ever know her dad had cut a slit there for a hidey-hole. She stretched and strained, feeling around with her fingertips until she struck gold, finding the paperclip, hairpin and nail file tucked inside. The hairpin would be good for displacing the mechanism, but when practicing in the past, she had only been able to do it when her hands were bound in front of her so she pressed a finger against the metal fingernail file, holding it flush against the lip of the inside of her hidden pocket as she scooted it toward her hand.

  She nearly had the file when the asshole driving her car slammed on breaks and her finger slipped. Damn it! She took a breath and began again, managing to hook the edge of the tool under her middle finger’s short nail this time. She pressed hard to make sure her best way to freedom didn’t slip again. Dragging her digit slowly she held her breath. A little more…just a little more. The tip peeked up and she clasped the metal point between her index finger and thumb. As she pulled the remaining portion out of the slit, she applied so much pressure abrasions formed on her thumb.

  Once the file was securely in her hand, she blew out a heavy breath through her nostrils before jumping straight into her task. She maneuvered her hands, holding the tie with one and the file with the other until she was able to stick the metal tip into the head until she’d disengaged the lock and was able to easily unthread the plastic tail. Once her hands were free, she yanked off the black hood and pulled the rag out of her mouth. While rubbing her wrists, she turned her head, finding the glow-in-the-dark safety latch.

  I need to time this right. She listened, hoping for signs of where she was, but she didn’t hear any horns blowing, train whistles or anything to indicate she might be in a busy area where she’d be seen if she allowed the trunk to fly open while her captor drove. He’s driving fast enough I might not be able to jump, and if he’s in a desolate area with no witnesses to call the police, he might park and chase me down.

  She’d passed out shortly after they’d teamed up to force her in the trunk so she wasn’t sure how long he’d been driving or if he’d made any stops. The best she could hope for would be if he stopped for gas. In the meantime, she would prepare for the worst. She retrieved the paperclip and hid it in her mouth between the bottom row of her teeth and her cheek, and she concealed the hairpin by hooking it into a small lock of hair near her nape, allowing the rest of her hair to act as a curtain. She stashed the file in her back pocket since her shirt was long enough to cover her butt. The kidnappers had been in her room when she changed and had already made sure she didn’t have a phone. They’d also removed the toolbox from the trunk of her car so she probably wouldn’t be frisked.

  Now for this damn thing on my neck. She placed her hands on the collar, attempting to stick her finger in between the leather and her skin. As a sharp, razor-like blade nipped at her skin, she realized she’d been placed in an anti-shift collar. The device was designed to take off her head if she tried to transform, and the blades would deploy if she tried to loosen the choker. Usually, only the clan matriarch’s like her mama had access to the hazardous restraints, and they were only to be used in extreme emergencies when a shifter was a danger to himself or others. She doubted her kidnapper was under orders from any matriarch, but she didn’t imagine finding the device for sale on the black market would be too hard for someone who knew where to look. She ran her hand around the exterior portion, finding the small padlock. Grimacing, she touched the keyhole—the small size would make picking more difficult.

  She removed the bobby pin from her hair and bent the end to form a make-shift tension wrench before bending the paperclip out of shape so one end stuck out like a long, thin metal strip. She had to be careful not to pull on the padlock as she inserted the end of the bobby pin and applied medium pressure.

  The car rolled along as she stuck the point of the paperclip inside and slowly scrubbed over the pins in one direction. Concentrating, she stuck her tongue out of one side of her mouth as she worked, and she nearly had it when the car came to a stop. Shit, I didn’t think this through.

  As fast as she could, she removed her tools from the opening and used her hands to return them to as close to their original shape as she was able before hiding them on her person again. She popped the emergency latch and peeped out of the trunk. She didn’t see anyone, but she heard the engine cut off. She couldn’t see much, but she appeared to be in a residential area. A squeaking sound startled her, and she flung the lid up in time to see a garage door lowering. She screamed and tried to jump out before she was trapped inside, but the trunk door slammed down on her head, nearly knocking her out again. She groaned, placing her hand on top of her scalp, near where her hair was parted. As the hard, metal lid popped upwards again, a sinister laugh reverberated nearby.

  Suki didn’t feel any blood or gashes, but a pounding ache pushed way down into her skull. Double vision plagued her attempts to focus, but adrenaline urged her forward. She crouched to spring out, but a body stepped in front of her blocking the way. A zap of electricity stunned her and she fell on her side.

  “You didn’t think you were going to escape, did you?”

  Her head spun, but she didn’t recognize this man’s voice. Whatever Jason Wormer’s interest in her kidnapping was, he wasn’t the one who’d taken custody of her at least not at the moment.

  “I see you managed to break out of your ties. Are you one of those talented partial shifters who can manage a body part without having the whole process kick-in? Hmmm?” As he stroked a piece of hair away from her face, she looked into his eyes for the first time. His smile was terrifying as were his cold eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him before, but from his scent, he was undoubtedly a shifter and most likely a stallion.

  “Now dear, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, the collar around your neck will cut your head off if you try to let your horse out. You’ve already had a taste of my taser and I’ve demonstrated that I won’t hesitate to hurt you if step out of line so I’m sure you are going to do exactly what I tell you to do. Starting with getting out of the trunk and walking into the house.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  His thick fingers raked through her hair until he made a fist close to her scalp and yanked her head back hard enough to make her yelp. “Oh, that was a nice sound. I hope to hear it from you much more, but otherwise, you aren’t to speak unless I ask you a direct question.” He jerked her out of the trunk and nearly threw her on the floor. “Now walk!”

  Teeth clenched and nostrils flaring, Suki put one foot in front of the other, biding her time. She’d figure a way out of this mess no matter what, but a physical confrontation probably wasn’t an option. Her captor wasn’t much taller than her, but he had a solid, stocky build, and he looked as if he’d packed enough muscle onto his form to make him an immovable object.

  As they entered his house, Suki pulled a heavy breath in through her nose. Whoever this jerk was, his house stunk of self-tanning lotion. He led her through a tiny laundry room, onward through a narrow hallway, and then down a short flight of steps into a basement. When he flipped the light switch, Suki’s eyes bulged as she focused on all the pictures, ranging from snap-shots to professional portraits of her kidnapper striking bodybuilding poses. His chest was bare in every picture, and in some, he wore as little as a speedo. There were also a few trophies but not many compared to the number of photos.

  Otherwise, the room had been converted into a den with wood paneling and shag carpet. A large screen television hung on the wall, and a couple of gaming systems were on a shelf beneath. A recliner sat across from the shelf. She saw nothing else of note in the room except for a large, round dog bed and
the biggest kennel she’d ever seen. Her heart pounded as she glimpsed around the room, searching for a big, ferocious animal.

  The man kicked her in the back of the leg, right behind her knee. “Ow!” She fell forward in a kneeling position.

  “I hope you enjoyed your little jaunt from the garage to here because it’s the last time you will be on your feet, dog.” He spat the last word as an insult.

  A lump formed in Suki’s throat and nausea stirred in her stomach as he grabbed her by her hair and pushed her face toward the floor. She stopped from toppling on her face by putting out her hands, landing her on all fours, and for the first time, she noticed the two black, plastic bowls pushed up against the side of the wall. Both were empty, and both had her name painted on the side.

  She glanced at his face for a split second, noting his toothy, self-satisfied grin. Bastard’s been wanting this a long time…but why? I don’t even know him. Do I?

  “That’s right—all fours or you may sit on your knees. There is a bathroom through that door behind the kennel. I don’t want you making a mess so I will allow you that one courtesy. I will groom you, feed you, and of course, there will be lots of training.”

  He sat down in his chair and stuck out one boot. “Take my shoes off, girl.”

  She clenched her jaw, glaring at him. Her first instinct was to claw his eyes out, but something told her a genuine monster’s rage bubbled just under the surface of this one. On her hands and knees, she crawled over and reached for the shoestring. He slapped her hand away and grabbed a fistful of her hair before pushing her face against the toe of the boot. She yelped more from shock than pain.