Read Online Call of the Wolf by Madelaine Montague - Free Book Online
Authors: Madelaine Montague
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pursuit, she grabbed everything she'd used the night before to barricade the door and piled it in front of the door.
"Open the door, Abby!"
The demand only boosted Abby's panic. It didn't inspire any inclination to open the door. Instead, her frantic mental search for help finally clicked on a possibility and she raced to her phone on the bedside table, grabbed up Milner's card and started punching in the numbers with shaking hands. “I think I'm in trouble,” she babbled the moment she heard the line picked up.
"Case number?"
"Oh for god's sake!” She dropped the damned card when she tried to flip it over and leapt off the bed to retrieve it. “Milner! I have to talk to Milner—anybody! Case # 931AM021,” she said shakily. “I'm in trouble, damn it!"
"I'll connect you to his alternate. Agent Milner isn't available."
"Fuck!” Abby exclaimed while she waited for the transfer. They were pounding on the door now—it sounded like all of them. She was shaking so badly if she hadn't had a death grip on the phone she thought she might've dropped it.
"Open the damned door, Abby, or I'm going to break it down!"
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Oh Shit!"
A man answered at the other end.
"Help!"
"Who is this?"
"God damn it! I gave the fucking woman the fucking number! How many times do I have to repeat it?"
"I need the number to verify and also to locate you!"
She repeated the number shakily.
"Was that M as in Michael? Or N as in Nancy?"
"It's T as in trouble, god damn it! And D as in dead, you fucking moron! They're beating down the door!” Abby screamed at the man. The hysteria finally seemed to penetrate his cool professionalism.
"Run! Get out of there!"
"Great advice! The problem is ... never fucking mind!"
Leaping to her feet, Abby bounced across the bed and tried to push the nearest window open.
"She's trying to go out the window."
"I'll go around."
Hearing the discussion through the door, Abby frantically renewed her efforts to get the window open. When it wouldn't budge, she discovered it was locked. By the time she'd managed to move the lock, though, she could see Adrian rounding the corner of the house. Slamming the lock back in place, she leapt away from the window with a squawk of fright just as the pounding on the door became deafening. The next blow shattered the door. Abby screamed.
"They're coming in! Big, really big—tall—six foot to six four—tattoos—they've all got tattoos,” she babbled mindlessly, clutching at the one thought that made any sort of connection in her brain—the need to identify her attackers.
Screaming again when Cameron, Seth, and Jerico plowed through the remnants of her door and leapt over the barricade she'd built in front of it, she bounded from one side of the bed to the other as they surrounded the bed, trying to dodge them. “Two of them have black hair. One guy's blond, the other one has brownish sort of blondish ... no scars, but the tattoos..."
Seth tackled her abruptly, knocking the breath from her in an inelegant grunt. Slamming her into the mattress so hard they both bounced, he wrested the phone from her. “Who is this?” he snarled into the phone.
Dimly, Abby heard the agent's response.
"This is Sheriff Seth Banner speaking,” Seth growled. “I know who I am. Who the hell am I talking to?"
She couldn't hear the other man's response, but then her ears were ringing.
"So run a check. If this is who I think it is, you've already run one."
Seth closed her cell phone and tossed it over his shoulder, levering himself off of her far enough he could pin her with a hard look. Finally, he heaved an exasperated breath and rolled off of her.
Abby tensed, staring at him wide eyed, trying to cudgel her panicked mind for some sort of fight or flight plan.
"What I'd like to know is why I wasn't informed,” he growled at her. Climbing off the bed, he studied her assessingly for several moments. “You're not a Fed, so why don't tell me who you are and what
"Open the door, Abby!"
The demand only boosted Abby's panic. It didn't inspire any inclination to open the door. Instead, her frantic mental search for help finally clicked on a possibility and she raced to her phone on the bedside table, grabbed up Milner's card and started punching in the numbers with shaking hands. “I think I'm in trouble,” she babbled the moment she heard the line picked up.
"Case number?"
"Oh for god's sake!” She dropped the damned card when she tried to flip it over and leapt off the bed to retrieve it. “Milner! I have to talk to Milner—anybody! Case # 931AM021,” she said shakily. “I'm in trouble, damn it!"
"I'll connect you to his alternate. Agent Milner isn't available."
"Fuck!” Abby exclaimed while she waited for the transfer. They were pounding on the door now—it sounded like all of them. She was shaking so badly if she hadn't had a death grip on the phone she thought she might've dropped it.
"Open the damned door, Abby, or I'm going to break it down!"
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Oh Shit!"
A man answered at the other end.
"Help!"
"Who is this?"
"God damn it! I gave the fucking woman the fucking number! How many times do I have to repeat it?"
"I need the number to verify and also to locate you!"
She repeated the number shakily.
"Was that M as in Michael? Or N as in Nancy?"
"It's T as in trouble, god damn it! And D as in dead, you fucking moron! They're beating down the door!” Abby screamed at the man. The hysteria finally seemed to penetrate his cool professionalism.
"Run! Get out of there!"
"Great advice! The problem is ... never fucking mind!"
Leaping to her feet, Abby bounced across the bed and tried to push the nearest window open.
"She's trying to go out the window."
"I'll go around."
Hearing the discussion through the door, Abby frantically renewed her efforts to get the window open. When it wouldn't budge, she discovered it was locked. By the time she'd managed to move the lock, though, she could see Adrian rounding the corner of the house. Slamming the lock back in place, she leapt away from the window with a squawk of fright just as the pounding on the door became deafening. The next blow shattered the door. Abby screamed.
"They're coming in! Big, really big—tall—six foot to six four—tattoos—they've all got tattoos,” she babbled mindlessly, clutching at the one thought that made any sort of connection in her brain—the need to identify her attackers.
Screaming again when Cameron, Seth, and Jerico plowed through the remnants of her door and leapt over the barricade she'd built in front of it, she bounded from one side of the bed to the other as they surrounded the bed, trying to dodge them. “Two of them have black hair. One guy's blond, the other one has brownish sort of blondish ... no scars, but the tattoos..."
Seth tackled her abruptly, knocking the breath from her in an inelegant grunt. Slamming her into the mattress so hard they both bounced, he wrested the phone from her. “Who is this?” he snarled into the phone.
Dimly, Abby heard the agent's response.
"This is Sheriff Seth Banner speaking,” Seth growled. “I know who I am. Who the hell am I talking to?"
She couldn't hear the other man's response, but then her ears were ringing.
"So run a check. If this is who I think it is, you've already run one."
Seth closed her cell phone and tossed it over his shoulder, levering himself off of her far enough he could pin her with a hard look. Finally, he heaved an exasperated breath and rolled off of her.
Abby tensed, staring at him wide eyed, trying to cudgel her panicked mind for some sort of fight or flight plan.
"What I'd like to know is why I wasn't informed,” he growled at her. Climbing off the bed, he studied her assessingly for several moments. “You're not a Fed, so why don't tell me who you are and what
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