Deadlocked

I thought in a daze, and we began gliding to a stop. Plump was screaming, Van was beating the shit out of me, and there was blood al over everything. The smel triggered the wolf in them, and they began to change. If I didn’t get out of the car, I was going to get bitten, and then I’d qualify to be a pack member myself.

As I struggled with Van in a vain attempt to reach the door handle, that door flew open and a black-gloved hand reached in to grab mine. I seized it like a drowning man seizes a rope, and just like a rope, that hand hauled me out of deep trouble. I barely managed to grab my bag with my free hand.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mustapha said, and I jumped on the back of his Harley behind him, my bag slung over my shoulder and mashed between us to keep it secure. Though I was stil trying to grasp what had just happened, my wiser self was tel ing me to think later, get the hel out of there now. Mustapha lost no time. Just as we zipped across the grassy median to head back into Shreveport, I watched a car pul up to offer help to the apparent wreck.

“No, they’l get hurt!” I yel ed.

“It’s Long Tooth wolves. You stay on.” And off we took. After that, I concentrated on clinging to Mustapha as we rocketed through the night. After my initial gush of relief, it was frustrating not to be able to ask any of the fifty questions racing through my mind. I wasn’t total y surprised when we pul ed up in the circular driveway in front of Alcide’s house. I had to exert a conscious effort to unclench my muscles so I could dismount. Mustapha took off his helmet and gave me a thorough look. I nodded to let him know I was okay. My hand would hurt from the squeeze Van had given it, and I was covered with dots of blood, but it wasn’t mine. I looked down at my watch. Bil had had time to deposit Colton at the airport, but he should be driving here. The whole thing had happened that quickly.

“What you doing wearing prostitute clothes?” Mustapha asked severely, and hustled me over to the front door.

Alcide opened the door himself, and if he was bowled over with surprise, he did a good job of hiding it.

“Damn, Sookie, whose blood?” he said, and waved us in.

“Rogue werewolf,” I said. I reeked.

“No cars coming, so I had to take action then,” Mustapha explained. “I shot Laidlaw. He was driving. The pack’s taking care of the others.”

“Tel me,” Alcide said, bending down to look me in the eyes. He nodded, satisfied with what he saw. I opened my mouth. “In as few words as possible,” he added.

Apparently, time was of the essence.

“Palomino found where Felipe was keeping a guy hostage, a guy we needed to rescue. Discreetly. I kind of resemble her, so to leave her cover intact, I pretended to be her wearing this waitress outfit.” I glared at Mustapha. “That the casinos picked out,” I added, to make myself clear. Alcide gave me a little shake to speed me up.

“Okay! So Bil and I came out with the hostage and we were gonna drive off, when this group of four Weres comes up, and the leader, Van—

whom I’d seen here, by the way, so I thought he was okay—Van tel s us you sent them to get me and I need to come with them, because they’ve found Warren’s body and they want me to verify that it’s real y Warren.”

Alcide turned his back and shook his head from side to side. Mustapha looked down at the floor, his face a map of complex emotions.

“So Bil headed to the—away, with the hostage, and I got in the car with Van and them, and I realized pretty quick that they were rogues because you wouldn’t have ’em. That Van …” And then I just didn’t want to talk about him anymore.

“He hit you, huh?” Alcide said, turning back to eye my face. There was a moment of fraught silence. “He rape you?”

“Didn’t have time,” I said, glad to get that out of the way. “I don’t know where they were taking me, but Mustapha shot the driver and got me out of the car, and here I am. So. Thank you, Mustapha.”

He bobbed his head, stil involved in his own thoughts, his own worry for his friend.

“Was there a woman with them, kind of quiet, about thirty?”

“Pixie haircut?”

Both the men looked blank. “Real short hair, light brown, tal woman?”

Alcide nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s her! She okay?”

“Yeah. She was sitting in the passenger front. Who is she?”

“She’s my undercover,” Alcide said.

“You have undercover agents?”

“Yeah, of course. Her name’s Kandace. Kandace Moffett.”

“Can you please explain al this?” I hated to sound stupid. Telepaths get used to knowing stuff, I guess.

“I’l give you the Reader’s Digest version,” he said, to my surprise. “But come in the bathroom and wash yourself off while I fil you in. Mustapha, man, I owe you.”

“I know,” Mustapha said. “Just help me find Warren. That’s al I need.”

Alcide hustled me into a bathroom right off the entrance hal . It was al granite countertops and pure white towels, and I felt like the nastiest thing the cat had ever drug in. Alcide didn’t necessarily mind the blood, because that’s not a Were hang-up, but I sure did. I turned on the shower and stepped under it after shucking my shoes, which were the cleanest things I was wearing. When Alcide’s back was turned, I stepped out of the waitress outfit and let it fal to the floor of the shower. I grabbed a washcloth, soaped it up, and began scrubbing. Alcide resolutely kept his eyes turned away.

“Start talking,” I reminded him, and he did.