“Okay, good to know. I have a rifle and a Glock.”
“The other one isn’t in the house,” Cody warned.
Tom’s blood chilled. “What other one? Where is he?”
“Some guy named Sefton. After North and Minx left the house, Quinton muttered to himself that Sefton was taking too long to get back. I don’t know where he is. He went out in his wolf coat after they took us hostage.”
Tom prayed one of the search teams had picked Sefton up. He was torn between going after Elizabeth and Minx and ensuring they stayed safe, or remaining here to try and take Quinton out.
“All right. Hurry and find the women. Send reinforcements this way if you see any of the search teams.”
“Search teams?”
“Yeah, three others are out here.”
“Okay, I’ll take good care of them. Just… don’t let any harm come to my brother. Okay?”
“Yeah, you know I’ll do anything I can to protect him, Cody. Go.”
Cody glanced back in the direction of the house, then nodded to Tom and started to take off, jingling.
“Wait, leave your hat here. You can use mine.”
Cody looked torn. He loved that jester hat. On the other hand, wearing a pack sub-leader’s hat was an honor. All the other guys would be envious. They exchanged hats, and Tom set the jester hat on one of the tree branches as Cody hurried off.
Tom hoped Cody was correct and that Eric hadn’t pretended to be something he wasn’t. Gambling that Eric had planned to explain what was going on to Darien, Tom moved out of the trees for a moment. He caught Eric’s eye as he watched out the living-room window in the direction Cody had gone.
Eric’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
Now or never. Either he would alert Quinton, or he would keep Tom’s presence here secret.
Eric smiled, wearing one of his evil smirks.
What did that mean? He would get Tom back? Or he was glad to see him?
Chapter 29
Tom reached Mr. Winston’s shed at a dead run, praying that Eric wouldn’t reveal his presence. Tom ran behind the shed and around to the back door of the house. If everyone remained in the living room, no one would see him. His biggest problem would be picking the lock to the back door.
If everyone talked, it might cover up the clicking sound he’d make with his lockpicks. If not, Quinton could very well hear him with his enhanced wolf hearing. The wind whipped about and the old cabin creaked, which helped somewhat to disguise his work.
“You can’t kill us, Quinton,” Eric said suddenly. “The red pack and the Silver pack will want your heads.”
Good. Eric was covering for Tom.
“I have no intention of killing anyone here,” Quinton said.
“So why do you want the woman so badly?”
“I have a business arrangement with my niece. I’m having a time getting together with Elizabeth.”
“You can’t hurt her. I suspect she’s Tom’s mate by now,” Eric said.
Quinton growled, “No wolf in his right mind would take her for a mate.”
Tom wanted to wring the bastard’s neck. He was glad Elizabeth wasn’t here to witness this.
“What kind of business arrangement?” Eric asked, louder this time as Tom continued to attempt to pick the back-door lock, his gloves lying on the porch, his hands sweating despite the frigid weather. “Is that why you had her brought back to Colorado?”
“I told you, North brought her here,” Quinton snapped a little too quickly. “He wants her for his own. Always has. He was always mooning over her.”
The lock clicked open. Keep talking, Eric.
“Why take us hostage?” Anthony asked quickly, his voice raised as if everyone in the house had hearing problems.
“You can be my witnesses. You’re not hostages.”
“So what’s the business deal? If you want us to be witnesses, you might as well tell us what the situation is,” Eric said.
“Can I fix anyone anything? Coffee? Sodas?” Mr. Winston suddenly asked.
“No, just sit where you are,” Quinton said.
“I gotta pee,” Anthony said to Mr. Winston. “Can I use your bathroom?”
The back door led into a laundry room, and Tom tried to close the door as quietly as he could. He was afraid to leave it open as the cold wind blew in, and he knew they’d soon sense the change in the temperature and smell the fresh snowy breeze. Thank God the door hadn’t creaked when he opened it. He set down his rifle and pulled out his Glock, but he stopped moving across the laundry room and waited for a response to Anthony’s request.
“Be quick,” Quinton snapped.
“This way, Mr. Winston?” Anthony asked.