7 – The Captive Changes Hands
Joe kept his gaze on the brutish man holding Mungo prisoner. A small light on the side of the stunner pointing at Mungo’s temple showed he’d armed the weapon. Joe’s feline growled long and low. Without taking his gaze off the pair, he pressed the button on the werewolves’ alarm. They’d seen no sign of the wolves, and Joe expected they’d traveled farther inland.
“Give me the beast of burden, and I’ll be on my way.”
Joe’s shoulders hunched before he straightened. “Fine. Take them. I must get my herd moving or I’ll miss the tide.”
His knees almost buckled on seeing Mungo’s reaction—the hint of betrayal. The acceptance. The understanding that no one cared enough to fight for her.
She was wrong.
He and his feline wanted her, and they’d always struggle for her safety and wellbeing.
While she fought him at present, she’d understand soon, and she’d enjoy life at the resort. His family would love and accept her. Of that, he had no doubt.
But meantime, he needed to back off and let this man think he’d won.
“Come and get the horse. It’s yours.”
Taking a chance, he signaled Duncan, and they both retreated.
“I can walk,” Mungo snarled from behind them, making Joe grin. “Ye dinnae have to shove.”
Admiration curled through him. His warrior. Yes, she’d fit in with the Mitchell larrikins.
Joe strode to their campsite and found Sam waiting. Max and Kenan hid out of sight. “Move the herd out,” he said. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the tide.”
Sam stiffened when he spotted the armed man with Mungo. He glanced askance at Joe, and Joe gestured for his cousins to tend the cattle. Sam hesitated before scooping up Roly and picking up the pack containing the bedrolls.
“Get the beast of burden,” the prisoner ordered.
Joe walked to the tethered horse and murmured to the animal in a soothing voice. Harriet—they’d named her earlier after a discussion around the campfire—danced beside him in a show of nerves. He hated to let the horse go. And as for Mungo—pretending he cared nothing for her grated his soul. A snarl squeezed past his lips. Harriet’s ears lay back against her head as she sensed his unease. She sidestepped and neighed.
“Here, take the horse and the woman. Good luck with them.” He thrust the reins at the man and strode away to join his cousins. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Mungo stared after Joe, the hot, tight, achy sensation behind her eyes signaling those stupid tears again. Weeping wasted energy and changed nothing. Her father had taught her this lesson. The sting of her fingers pinching the skin at the inside of her wrist righted her emotions. She raised her chin and waited, silent.
The big man’s oily gaze lifted the hairs at her nape. Mungo kenned what he wanted from her. Nothing respectable, although she had an opportunity to escape. He’d be afeared of the cat-men following him. Not that she expected a rescue. She’d witnessed the finality on Joe’s face. All he cared about was her coos. He’d traded her for the animals. The man who’d made her daft in the head with his heated kisses did not differ from her father. Her brothers. The other men in the Caimbeulach clan.
“Get on the animal,” the man ordered, his face full of malicious threat.
Silently, she obeyed the big oaf. He stood as tall as Joe but was more solid. His shiny head glinted in the whitelight, but the thing that grabbed her interest most was the weird pale blue of his skin and the navy-blue drawings that covered every inch of him. His brown tunic and trews were unremarkable, apart from the fact they dinnae fit well.
Harriet skittered away when the man attempted to mount, but he held firm on the reins. He leaped up behind Mungo and pulled her indecently close. Her skin crawled and her stomach slow-rolled in protest at his stench. Mud and something worse coated his feet and spotted his clothes and limbs. She jabbed him with her elbow, heard his hiss before his grip tightened to painful.
“Try that again and I’ll drop you on your head.”
Mungo swallowed and breathed through her mouth. His words held promise rather than threat. She sensed she was safe for now, but once his confidence grew and they reached the isolated country of the Highlands, he’d steal her virtue or worse.
Joe had given her to this brute without an argument. The memory of Joe’s broad back as he strode off kept running through her head until a scream tickled her throat.
Joe had left her. He wouldnae save her.
Her brothers had no idea where she was although she presumed they’d missed her by now. Cycle after cycle, her brothers showed their contempt for her. She doubted they’d strain themselves to attempt a rescue. Adair hadn’t even bothered to follow her trail and reave her coos.
Her throat tightened until she had to inhale through her nose. The prisoner’s fragrance… She croaked, her stomach trying to claw up her throat. “Let me walk.”
“No.”
Mungo swallowed and forced the lump down. A hoarse saw of breath allowed her stomach to settle.
The man couldnae watch her the entire cycle. She’d wait and seize the first chance that came her way. She’d count on the one person she kenned would save her.
Herself.
“Joe,” Duncan whispered when Joe fell into step with him. “What are you doing?”
“Letting the prisoner think he’s escaped us. I’ve signaled the werewolves. I’m not sure how long they’ll take to get here, but as soon as we get the herd to the crossing point, I’ll shift and double back.”
“What if you don’t get to her in time?”
“I doubt he’ll try to rape her. Not yet anyway.” Joe’s feline shoved at him and his control slipped. Dark claws formed beneath his fingernails.
“But he could shoot her.”
“Don’t you think I understand that?” Joe snapped. “I’m doing the best I can with limited options.”
Duncan grasped his shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry. This must be bloody hard since you haven’t claimed her yet.”
“How could I? She’s an innocent. No man had ever kissed her before.”
Duncan paused for a long beat. “You’re a lucky man, Joe.”
“I will be if I can get her back.”
“Try to get Harriet too. I’ve become fond of the animal.”
“Huh! Huh!” Joe waved his hands to hasten the herd down a curving track that led to a sandy beach. “We need to push them to the causeway. Kelvin assured me that one or two days a month, the moons pulled the water apart to create a land bridge to the island.”
“Yeah, you told us.”
Joe sighed and shot a glance behind them. “Sorry. My brain won’t stop jittering.”
“Kelvin also said that sometimes the land bridge goes all the way across,” Duncan said. “Which is why we can’t afford to mess up our timing.”
Joe grunted out a laugh. “Excellent. You were listening to my ravings.”
“Joe, don’t worry. We’ll care for your herd as if it was our own. Once we get the cattle across, we’ll drive them along the route you mapped out. Go and rescue your girl and catch up with us when you can.”
“I’ll give him longer to relax,” Joe said.
“I saw your girl’s face when you walked away. She thinks you don’t care.”
His cousin’s words were a brutal kick to his gut. “She thinks I don’t care. Her father ignores her because she reminds him of his dead wife. From what I’ve gathered, he treats her with indifference. The clan men follow his behavior.”
Duncan scowled. “The entire family treat her as invisible?”
“Apart from her stepmother and the cook.”
“I understand why you’re whisking her away then.”
Sam joined them, the owl perched on his shoulder.
“You resemble a pirate,” Duncan said.
Sam flashed a grin before turning to Joe. “We’ve got this. Get your girl.”
“Thanks,” Joe said.
“Give us your clothes and we’ll tuck them under that rock there for you to collect when you come back,” Duncan suggested.
Joe stripped and dropped his belongings in a pile. He shifted and bounded up the path, leaving his herd of cattle, his and his twin’s future, in the hands of his cousins.
He ran straight to the area where he’d handed over the horse. With one deep inhalation, he drew in the scent—a mixture of Mungo, the prisoner, and Harriet. Judging by the deepness of Harriet’s tracks, they’d both mounted the horse. The trail took Joe north, and he wondered how the prisoner was navigating, given he’d crashed on this planet en route to a prison elsewhere.
Joe tracked for half an hour, losing the trail at one stage. Frustration had him backtracking to a shallow stream. The tracks led into the water and didn’t come out. Damn. He should’ve noticed that straight away. Joe glanced up the stream and down, finally choosing a north-westerly direction.
The delay chafed at him, his anxiety growing to a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t understood his brothers and their protectiveness to their mates. Yes, he’d seen the same behavior from his parents and grandparents but it was different with your own mate.
A shout from ahead froze Joe in position. He crept closer, some of his unease lifting when he spotted Mungo’s red hair through the tangle of trees.
“Dinnae hit the steed. It’s not her fault ye chose this perilous route, ye clot-heid.”
“It’s not too late to shoot a hole in you,” the prisoner snapped.
Joe eased closer. He assumed Harriet had stumbled over an unseen rock in the streambed and tipped the prisoner off her back. Mungo clung to Harriet’s mane. The prisoner stood, water dripping off his sodden clothes.
“Ye weapon is wet.”
Joe’s mouth twitched at his mate’s pert observance. The prisoner snarled. He lifted his stunner and fired. A surge of light fired over Mungo’s right shoulder, and Joe stiffened in alarm.
She shrieked, her cry of fury scaring Harriet. The horse’s eyes rolled and her ears flattened against her head.
“Clot-heid! Do ye wish the steed to bolt?”
“My weapon works. You won’t get another warning.”
Joe edged closer and Harriet’s ears flicked in his direction. Luckily, the prisoner didn’t notice.
“Keep going until we find a flatter bank to exit the stream. We’ve done enough to lose anyone who picks up the trail.”
“Ye willnae make it through the Highlands. One of the clans will reave yer steed.”
Humor shot through Joe. While he approved of her attitude, he hoped she didn’t push the prisoner too far. He studied the water—now more a river than a stream with the broadening expanse. He didn’t like the way the current seemed faster too.
“Good thing I have you as my hostage then. Your presence will guarantee me safe passage. Enough talk. Go faster.”
Mungo pressed her thighs to Harriet’s sides, and the horse slogged through the stream. Joe waited and struggled up the bank. He followed the course of the water while keeping out of sight but within earshot. Joe crawled beneath tangled red vines and slunk over a carpet of dried pink leaves. A swarm of mustard-yellow insects flew at his face, and he swiped at them with his paw.
“There,” the prisoner said. “Climb out of the stream there.”
“It’s too steep.”
“Do it,” the prisoner ordered.
Joe cautiously approached the stream and peered down. Mungo was right. Harriet would never make that incline. Ah, he saw the problem. The water was getting deeper. Joe cocked his head. And if he weren’t mistaken, it sounded as if they were approaching rapids or a waterfall.
Mungo angled Harriet at the bank, but the horse slipped on the steep slope. “I told ye the steed canna climb this.”
The prisoner grunted. “Keep going.”
“The water is getting deeper.”
“No shit. Keep going.”
Joe rounded a bend and cursed. He ran after them, unconcerned about the prisoner and his weapon.
“Mungo, head to the bank,” he shouted in his mind.
Not that Mungo could hear him over the roar of the falls. Fear filled Joe, clutched at his chest. He gasped for air, his terror closing up his throat. Joe raced along the bank until it flattened a fraction. He jumped down but the prisoner, Harriet, and Mungo floated past him and around another corner until he could no longer see them.
Dread propelled Joe in pursuit. He jumped back up the bank and dashed along the edge. There was Harriet.
He saw not a sign of Mungo or the prisoner.