Page 65 of A Malicious Menagerie
“I thought I told you not to hurt anyone for me.”
“And I thought I toldyouthat I couldn’t make that promise.”
As Chase continues to rock me gently, whispering comforting nonsense in my ear, I face the realization that I’m glad that Chase intervened. The epiphany is going to force me to reevaluate who I am as a person, but at least I’m being honest with myself. Still…
“Well, shit,” I say at last. “What do we do now?”
29
The King
Who better to know what to do when shit hits the fan than a soldier?
Despite Chase’s protests, I leave him with Smarman’s body behind the wolf enclosure. No one has cell phones, and I can’t go wandering up to the front of the menagerie in a blood-stained dress. Still, I know another way to get hold of a certain redheaded security guard.
I travel off the main path as much as possible, avoiding the sporadic gala-goer who’s lagging behind in the exhibits instead of enjoying champagne by the carousel. It feels like it takes an eternity to reach the warren of back hallways when, in reality, it’s probably less than ten minutes. I keep an eye out for John or any of the security guys as I approach the breakroom, but thankfully, everyone must be busy holding down the fort and guiding the gala-goers out.
I find the walkie-talkies on the counter and tune one to the channel I know the security team uses. I pause, organizing the chaotic whirl of my thoughts, before holding down the side button. “Colby? This is Anna. A guest drank too much in the woods, and I could use some help with him. He said his name was Chase?” I can only hope that using the werewolf’s name tips him off that there’s something a bit more personal going on than a tipsy reveler. Belatedly, I remember to tack on, “Err, over?”
“Anna, this is Bob,” comes the voice of the wrong security guard. “Colby’sat the front. I can head that way. Over.”
While I frantically scramble for a reason that I need Colby instead of Bob, Colby replies, “I got it, Bob. I already asked Mick to cover the front. Over.”
“Ten-four,” Bob acknowledges, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
By the time I make my way back to the wolf enclosure, Colby is already there and apparently in a staring contest with Chase. The way the two men are facing each other down and puffing up their chests would be almost comical if not for the fact that there’s a dead body slumped between them.
“Alright, boys, no time for that,” I snip at them, planting my hands on my hips.
“What the fuck, Anna?” Colby growls, running an agitated hand through his hair until it stands on end. “When you called for help, I didn’t exactly think I’d be helping you hide a body!”
“He had it coming,” Chase growls, earning a dark look from Colby.
“What’d he do? Proposition your girl?”
“A little more than ‘proposition,’” I hedge, not really wanting to relive it.
Colby shoots me a startled look, his sharp eyes tracking from my mussed hair to the sore spot on my cheek that’s probably red and trending toward bruised. His eyes soften, but his voice is gruff when he states, “This is going to complicate our escape plan.”
“No shit,” I deadpan. “What do we do? Can we hide the body?”
“It’s a little late for that.”
I jump at the unexpected voice and spin around to see a familiar figure hovering in the shadows. “John!” I squeak before glancing involuntarily toward the body at my feet. I force my eyes back to my smirking coworker. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Don’t bother, Anna,” Chase growls, advancing on John. “I’ve been looking forward to taking this asshole out for a long time.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” John says mildly, and Chase freezes in place, his gaze snapping to a spot over John’s shoulder. I don’t understand why he stopped until a moment later when several guards materialize out of the darkness, their guns raised.
Chase tenses, his skin rippling as if he might shift and lunge at the men,firearms be damned. He halts abruptly when he glances my way, and his eyes widen in horror a moment before I feel something cool and unyielding press to my temple. “Try it and she’s dead,” a cold voice intones, and I realize with a jolt that there’s a gun pointed at my head.
There’s a high-pitched buzzing in my brain that grows louder with each one of my panicked breaths. I dare not move my head even an inch, but my gaze ping-pongs from John’s smug expression to Chase’s bared fangs and clenched fists to Colby’s scowl. The world seems to hold its breath for a heartbeat and a century at once before Colby reluctantly raises his arms above his head in surrender.
“What are you doing?” Chase hisses, whirling toward him.
“Do you want them to shoot her?” Colby snaps. “Put your damn hands up.”
Chase’s sharp, metallic gaze flicks back to me. A muscle in his jaw tics once before he mimics Colby, his big frame so tense he’s vibrating like a plucked guitar string.
