Gator's Challenge (4 page)

Melanie kept her eyes demurely downcast. “My boys can be a handful. If you could take me to them, I’m sure they’ll calm down once they see me.”

The harrumph eloquently said that Nurse Bitch didn’t think so.

Since Wes had yet to release his hold on Melanie, he found himself going along, each step more horrifying for the bright flowers painted on the walls, the glimpse in rooms with glass doors, the tiny beds, empty and waiting. Too many beds. The sight of the cribs made him stumble. Melanie pulled from his grasp, face stony as she followed the nurse. He trailed more slowly.

The nurse stopped before a solid partition that required a card slide, thumbprint, and a code.

“Don’t bother memorizing it,” Nurse Bitch snapped as Melanie showed too much interest. “It changes every shift.”

With a click, the door opened, and the nurse stepped in. Several things happened at once. Something dropped from above the door onto the nurse, something lunged at her from the floor, and amidst the screaming—lots of it comparing the twins to satanic imps escaped from hell—Melanie laughed.

“There’s my good boys. Come see Mama.”

O
nly when Melanie
hugged the twins’ small, wiry bodies did the fluttery panic, barely held at bay, subside.

My babies are okay.

They were prisoners to a sick bastard, but unharmed in body and definitely not cowed by the rabid nurse practically foaming at the mouth as she screamed, “You rotten little bastards. I don’t care who your father is. You’re in my domain now.”

The nurse lifted a hand, but before she could use it—or lose it because Melanie would tear it off if she tried to hit her boys—Wes caught it.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The nurse tightened her lips. “I know who you are. You’re Mr. Killinger’s pet gator. You don’t scare me.”

Wes leaned close until they were almost nose to nose before he nicely, too nicely, said, “I should, seeing as how I’m hungry, annoyed, and your antics are reminding me why being a vegetarian is overrated.”

“Your kind don’t eat humans.” Despite her claim, the nurse pulled at the iron grip Wes had on her wrist.

“My kind
eats whatever the fuck it wants, and we know how to not leave a trace behind. So,
human
”—amazing the amount of sneering he could infuse in a single word— “care to piss me off further? Go on. With the mood I’m in, it won’t take much to make me snap.” To emphasize his point, he noisily clacked his teeth.

The nurse wisely took a step back. A shame, because Melanie was also in a mood and wouldn’t have minded seeing the bitch taken down a few more notches.

No one threatens my family.
Rowr.

Head held at a haughty angle, the nurse practically spat, “Mr. Killinger and Mr. Parker will be hearing about your behavior.”

“Go ahead. Do it. Tattle on me. We’ll see who’s more valuable to them.” He winked. “I already know, so I’ll bring the hot sauce for later.”

“Arrrrgh.” The screech of outrage lingered long after the sound of the nasty nurse’s steps disappeared.

Tension eased out of Melanie, and she peeked at Wes over the heads of her boys. “Thank you.”

He scowled. “Don’t you dare thank me. If I hadn’t put her in her place, you would have.”

“And probably not as nicely.” Years of trying to act the perfect mother and wife had taken their toll. Melanie could feel her Latin temper—and her inner feline—wanting to snap.

“That woman is vile and shouldn’t be around people, let alone children.”

Taking her gaze from Wes, despite the temptation to truly drink him in, she focused on her boys. She held them out at arm’s length. “Let me see you. How are you both looking?”

She twisted them this way and that, relieved at their matching eye rolls and muttered, “We’re fine, Mama.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she muttered because she was most definitely not.

How had her boring, cookie-cutter life gone from wake up and feed the kids breakfast before school to trying to shoot her mad scientist asshat of a husband who’d kidnapped her boys and was keeping them prisoner in what amounted to a guinea pig lab?

Since she saw no signs of injury, she lightened the moment by tickling their underarms, netting shrill giggles and shrieks. When they gasped for breath, she hugged them close again, breathing in their little-boy scent.

“Mama,” said Rory, his face tucked into her shoulder, “we wanna go home. We don’t like it here.”

“Daddy came and said we had to be good for the lady. But I don’t like her.” The huffy words were spoken with a glare aimed at the empty hall.

“Never fear, I will get us out of here.” Too late she remembered Wes still stood watching. Her words didn’t go unchallenged.

“Don’t do anything foolish. The security is absolutely stupid around here. You can’t go two steps without someone knowing.”

“Doing nothing would be stupider. I won’t let anyone touch my boys.” Vehemently said. She’d die first.

“No one’s touching them. Or you.”

She blinked and almost asked Wes to repeat, except he was still talking.

“Just hang tight while I work some things out.”

“You want me to wait while you work some things out?” She made a face. “As if I believe you. Two minutes ago, you said there were eyes and ears everywhere. Now you want me to believe you’re colluding with me to escape?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that, but I think we’re safe at the moment. Look.”

At his pointed finger, she turned and peeked. Then laughed.

In one corner of the large playroom, the suspended camera sported a big ball of playdough around it while, at the other end, it hung from the ceiling in a dangling mess of wires.

“Did you guys do this?” she asked her twins in a mock-stern voice.

“Not me.” The identical grins brought a giggle to her lips despite the dire situation.

“There’s my smart boys.”

“Very smart, just like their mom. So, let me say again, I will help you. Sit tight at least for a day or two and let me figure out a way for you to escape.”

“With my boys.”

“Yes, with your boys.”

Wes left—with a swagger she forced herself to ignore.

Why ignore?
her feline wondered. Her panther had a point. The man had a nice posterior. Very nibble worthy.

But the idea of leaving teeth marks on those sweet cheeks was distracting her from the true issue, which was, should she listen to Wes and see if he could help them?
I don’t know if we can afford to wait a few days.

It didn’t take a genius to see this playroom contained elements out of the ordinary, starting with a large-framed mirror she’d wager was a one-way window. People observing the kids at play, creepy, but not as creepy as the restraining straps under the tiny seats situated around tables bolted to the floor. Bars covered the windows while vents that had nothing to do with air circulation projected from the floor, the lingering scent of gas, the same kind her dentist used to knock her out, showing they’d recently tested it.
Why on earth would they need to gas children?

And why were her boys here?

It horrified her to realize Andrew, their bloody father, had sent their boys to a lab, one with toys and games, but still another place they were doing testing. On children.

On fucking children!
Snarl.

It made her stomach ill. It made her inner feline pace with bristled fur. But she couldn’t let her agitation show. Mustn’t let the boys sense there was something amiss, even if they already suspected.

Melanie stroked Tatum’s hair back from his forehead, listening to him as he recounted a story from a picture book he’d found. Much as it chilled her, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was already too late. Did some strange chemical cocktail already run through their blood?

The afternoon passed quickly and quietly. The rude nurse she’d met never reappeared. As lunchtime rolled around, a slot opened in the wall and a shelf extended with three covered trays. Sandwiches, milk, and fruit.

She sniffed them thoroughly and tasted them first, too, before she’d let her boys take a bite. Starvation wouldn’t keep them strong.

Sporadically, she attempted to open the door to the room, only to find it locked each and every time. It had swung shut after Wes left, and no amount of prying, slamming, or knocking opened it.

Dinnertime arrived, and once again, food appeared, this time a meat pie with mashed potatoes and veggies. It all smelled and tasted fine, but she barely managed more than a few bites, her knotted stomach making it almost impossible to eat.

She began to wonder how long they’d have to stay here. Alone.

No one came to see them. Not Andrew. Not Wes. Not anyone.

As night fell, the sky outside the barred window darkened. She began to wonder if they’d have to sleep on the chilly tile floor.

When the door suddenly opened, she startled, and her boys, sensing her sharp spike of adrenaline and fear, tensed.

“It is time for the boys to rest.” A new nurse, prim and stoic in her blue scrubs, stood in the portal. She held out her hands. “Come with me, please.”

Tatum and Rory clung tight to Melanie instead. “Not going.”

“Staying with Mama.”

Melanie did nothing to discourage their instinct, especially since she felt the same way. As their mother, she didn’t mind the weight of them sitting on and wrapped around her. That weight meant they were with her and safe.

Just try and touch them, lady.

She glared at the woman who thought she’d separate Melanie from her babies. Bared some teeth when it looked as if the nurse might lunge and try to grab one.

“What’s going on here? Where is Mrs. Killinger?”

Hope fluttered in her chest. It was Wes. He’d come back.

Attention turned away from inside the room, the nurse replied, “She’s in here and refusing to cooperate. I know Mr. Killinger said to use whatever force I deemed necessary, but I don’t want to hurt the boys’ mother in front of them. I doubt they’d be cooperative after that.”

“You think?” Wes couldn’t hide his disdain. “Let me handle this.”

“Go ahead. Just don’t hurt the subjects. They’ve got tests to run in the morning.”

Tests? The blood in Melanie’s veins froze, and she wondered if her face appeared as stricken as she felt. The wide frame of Wes, still wearing his ripped jeans from the morning, filled the doorway.

She couldn’t help but whisper, “Wes, what does she mean about tests?”

“We shouldn’t talk in front of little ears.”

“Why not?” asked Rory.

Tugging at his lobes, Tatum frowned. “My ears aren’t little.”

She hugged them tightly. “I’m not leaving them.”

“You’re going to have to for just a little while. They aren’t going to get hurt. You heard the broad. They need them.” Did she imagine the curl of his lips as he repeated the nurse’s words?

She kept them close as she struggled to stand. The boys had gotten so big, their bodies sturdy, and heavy. A hand under her elbow helped her get to her feet.

“Let me have one.”

“No.” She squeezed them closer, but Rory leaned out, arms outstretched to Wes, and said, “Carry me. On your shoulders like Luke’s daddy does.”

She could only blink in surprise as her son willingly went to Wes. And she blinked again as her son sat atop his shoulders.

It looked so…right? She closed her eyes and gave herself a mental shake.
Don’t be casting Wes into some pathetic hero mold. And don’t even start thinking about using him as a new daddy.
Even if he’d just done more in that one second of grabbing her son than Andrew had, ever.

Andrew rarely touched their boys. Very rarely. In public was about the only time the boys got away with interacting with him at all, mostly because Andrew couldn’t avoid it. He cared more about the appearance of being a good father than actually trying to be one. In light of his standoffish view on parenting, she’d found it surprising he’d been talking to her about trying for another child. Looking around this place, she really wondered at his motive.

Melanie tucked her son close as she followed Wes’s long stride down the hall. During the day, bright recessed lighting in the ceiling made the trek light and colorful. In the dimmer evening illumination, the flowers loomed with shadows, ominous dark spaces that implied something more evil lurked.

Not such a friendly place now.

Tucking Tatum’s head close, she quickened her pace to reach the open door spilling light onto the checkered tile. She followed Wes into the bedroom. If you could call a barrack-like space with six bunk beds a bedroom.

How regimented, almost military like.

There were a few subtle differences, though. The frames of the bunks appeared of modern cappuccino-colored wood. The sheets gleamed white while fluffy comforters sporting more cheerful colors and smiling animal visages kept the feel of prisoner at bay. Barely.

A room obviously made for children, and yet, as she twirled around, she couldn’t help but realize this room was meant to keep the kids locked away from everyone, including parents.

Whose kids?

Looking at her boys scrambling onto a bunk bed sporting matching comforters with ravenous dinosaurs, her heart seized.

Dear God, that bastard truly is going to experiment on his own children.

She wished she could say she harbored some hope when it came to Andrew. Some remote hope he wasn’t that sick of a bastard. A foolish hope. Fathers didn’t, for any fucking reason, put their kids in barracks under lock and key.

“And you condone this,” she whispered.

She couldn’t help but look at Wes, pained anew by his handsomeness, which obviously hid a core of bad she’d never seen before.

Funny how Wes being capable of true evil bothered her more than Andrew.

It seemed to bother Wes, too. He stood still as granite, his face a stony mask as he looked around. “I would never condone this. Never anything with children. There are some lines even I won’t cross.” The last words uttered at a camera in the corner of the room, a red eye blinking showing it recorded.

How she wished she could believe what Wes said. Wished she could believe the anguish in his eyes.

He’s already deceived me more than once.
She’d need more than words and big gator eyes to sway her into trusting him again.

“I can’t leave them here,” Melanie murmured, trying hard to hold in her tears. She wanted to be strong, dammit. She usually was. Anyone who knew her described her as a bomb ready to go off.

That’s me. TNT.
She went off on everyone except Andrew, which would probably surprise most folks. People said you fought hardest with those you loved.

Did the fact that she’d never found it in her to lambast a man who just took it and said sorry mean she didn’t love Andrew?

She’d fought often with Wes.

But she’d stayed with Andrew. She bit her lip instead of tearing Andrew a new one every time he pulled away from her and the boys, especially lately as his mood had begun to swing more erratically. She couldn’t help but notice the differences in her husband.

The change in his smell…
her inner kitty slyly added.

Ah, yes, his scent. An intrinsic part of any person. The bouquet Andrew once bore had changed, gone from an earthy musk mixed with damp fur and a feel of the woods to something slightly off kilter, and if truly pressed for an answer, she would have said alien.