"Garrett?" My name on her lips makes me want to forget my failings as a brother and my terror over Sedona's disappearance. I want to breathe in Amber, and her alone.
Instead, I back up enough she can see the light silver in my eye. "Pack a bag and grab your passport. We're going to Mexico."
"What?"
"You're psychic. You see thing others don't. You're coming with me to find her."
"I'm sorry, Garrett, but I can't. I have work on Monday-"
"I'm not asking. You broke the rules, little human. I can't let you run around free, and I have to go, which means you're coming along. I own you now."
~.~
Amber
I huddle in the backseat of Garrett's Range Rover, shivering, even though it's not cold. The doors on either side of me open, and Jared and Trey slide in, sandwiching me between them.
Let the record reflect: I'm not into foursomes or kidnap scenarios. I guess I should have told Garrett that, because this is not my idea of a great second date.
"What's with the lawyer, boss? She doesn't look happy to be here."
"She's coming with us. Don't let her escape," Garrett growls. He climbs into the front seat and peels out of the parking lot. I scramble to click in my seat belt. My two bodyguards-because that's what they are-don't bother.
The tattooed one-Jared-sits and watches me, arms braced as Garrett weaves in and out of traffic. "What's your plan with her?"
"I'm sitting right here," I mutter.
"We gonna have to kill her?" Trey rumbles.
They're joking. I'm pretty sure. But not positive. Fuck.
"If he wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead, and we'd be disposing of the body," Jared says, as I choke on my own breath.
"No killing. She's gonna help us." Garrett's deep rumble stirs me even in this tense moment.
"Oh yeah." Jared studies me. He has long eyelashes and hazel eyes. "I forgot-she's psychic."
"You told them?"
Garrett's eyes meet mine in the rear view mirror. "I don't hide anything from my pack."
Oh, so no reciprocity here? I bite back a retort. Now is not the time for Lawyer Amber to assert her case. Maybe when the energy in the car isn't thick with tension. I can barely breathe.
"You think you can sense a missing person, psychic lady?" Jared asks. One of his tattoos is a skeleton amorously entangled with a very buxom, half-naked lady. Charming.
"My name is Amber. " I pull out my snooty voice to bolster myself against fear. "And the answer is no. It's not a skill I know how to use. It's more like something that happens to me."
"Well, I need you to try," Garrett says from the front seat.
"I really don't know how." I don't. And I know he's going to blame me when it doesn't work.
"So, why is she our prisoner?" Trey pushes.
I stiffen at the casual way he asks, as if taking prisoners is par for the course.
"She talked," Garrett mutters.
"You're scaring her." Jared puts an arm around me and lightly rubs my shoulder. "She's shaking like a leaf."
"Do not touch her." Garrett's growl makes my stomach drop to my feet. His eyes glow silver in the mirror.
Jared removes his arm.
Trey shifts in his seat, putting a few inches between me and his big body. "Yes, sir."
"Understood, boss," Jared echoes.
They look like punks, but they sound like they're in the military.
Garrett's not done. "If either of you touches her I will smash your faces in, got it?"
Neanderthal. These guys are total Neanderthals. But my entire body flushes, and some part of me enjoys his possessive threat. Or it just protective? Either way, it puts a warm, squirmy feeling in my belly.
"So, if she tries to escape, I'll just stop her with my invisible forcefield," Trey mutters.
"Are you really talking back to me?" Garrett demands. His fingers are white on the steering wheel.
"No, sir." Trey exchanges a glance with Jared, raising his eyebrows slightly, as if to say, "What's with him?"
I breathe a little easier after seeing this exchange.
"Amber has a friend." I tense all over again at Garrett's words. "Her name is Foxfire. She was at the club."
"Miss Pukes-alot? I remember," Jared says.
"Call Tank and tell him to keep an eye on her."
"What?" I blurt before I think. "No."
"Yes-"
"Foxfire's harmless. She thinks Werewolves is the name of your motorcycle gang or something. I swear, she won't tell anyone." My voice rises to match my level of desperation.
"You told someone about us?" Trey asks. The way the temperature drops in the car, I realize how serious this is. I'm in big trouble.
"I had a vision. It slipped out. Don't take it out on Foxfire."
"No harm will come to your friend," Garrett promises. "I swear on my wolf."
"I just need her address." Jared pauses mid text.
I shake my head. Tears burn my eyes. Stupid, stupid visions. Stupid werewolves. I didn't ask for any of this. "Please," I whisper.
"Amber."
I meet Garrett's eyes in the mirror.
He says nothing more, but his look demands I yield into his inflexible will. Maybe I have Stockholm syndrome. With a sigh, I tell them Foxfire's address.
"She'll be okay," Garrett assures me.
"Yeah, don't worry," Trey adds.
We drive in silence for forty minutes, until we pass the sign for the Mexican border. A jolt runs through me when I see it. Am I really going to leave the country with these wolves?
"Amber, look at me." Garrett taps the rearview mirror until I meet his eyes. "No trouble," he warns. "Do not call attention to us in any way. Don't speak unless you're asked a direct question. Do not give them any cause to stop us, understand?"
I tighten my lips. My heart races. I'm in serious trouble. Kidnapped by a lethal pack of wolves and taken to Mexico. Am I ever coming back? Lawyer Amber would never allow herself to be taken out of the country by near strangers. She got a top score on the bar exam. She's not stupid. At what point did I check in my brain and start thinking with my vagina? I don't let anyone push me around, hot werewolf, or not.
"Are we clear?"
I force myself to nod, before looking away. I need to think of something, quick. This is nuts, and I've spent a lifetime trying to keep Crazy Amber out of my life.
Our car inches forward in line. When we reach the little concrete hut, Garrett turns off the car, signaling that we all need to get out to bring our paperwork inside. He claps a large hand on my shoulder as we walk forward.
Inside, he continues to direct me. I fill out the tourist visa form, and bring it forward when the man behind the counter motions to me.
"Disculpe." I pray Garrett doesn't speak Spanish. His grip tightens as I rush on. "Tengo un problema…"
A rumble comes from Garrett, low but distinct. A warning.
I gulp down my words. What the hell am I doing, anyway?
"Em... dónde está el baño?" I ask for the bathroom instead of explaining my problem. and Garrett eases his grip.
The man points toward the Damas sign on the restroom.
I bob my head. "Gracias."
When the man hands the paperwork back, I head to the restroom, Garrett on my heels.
"I'll be right out," I tell him.
Inside, I explore my options. Like many buildings in Mexico, the little concrete structure is simply made, with screen-less windows near the ceiling that hinge open. It'll be tight, but I might be able to fit through the small opening. I stand on the toilet and hoist myself up, throwing my leg toward the window. I fall short and drop back to the ground, panting.
Come on, Amber. You can do this.
Another try, and I manage to hook my ankle over the edge of the open window. My heart races like a hummingbird's as I inch my leg through to the knee then hang onto the top of the stall and swing my other leg up. Slowly, I push my body forward, on an angle to fit through the narrow passage. I have no idea what's outside. Probably a border guard with a machine gun who will assume I'm a criminal. But I speak Spanish. I can present my case. No, better to not incriminate the werewolves. I'll just tell them I don't feel well and need to get a cab back to Tucson or something like that. Someone here will gladly take my money.
I wriggle and turn, propelling myself through the window. Sucking in a breath, I lay my middle across the narrow ledge of the window.