Mate.
His fox had known instantly, had practically turned somersaults inside Ewen’s skull, yipping and preening. Ewen had barely managed to string together a coherent sentence in French, something about having a lead, needing to talk. He was conscious of the thugs approaching and knew he had to keep his mate safe, but he couldn’t resist the pull. His brain had short-circuited the moment Lamont smiled - small, barely there, but enough to make Ewen’s knees go weak.
Then the thugs, who’d been trailing him for days, got pushy and played their hand.
Ewen opened his eyes, staring at the water-stained ceiling. There was a lot his mind was struggling to figure out. Lamont had clearly sensed something was wrong. Ewen had caught the way those dark eyes tracked the two men, the subtle shift in Lamont’s posture - in Ewen’s eyes he appeared predatory and alert, which was the mark of the “other” he clearly was.
But he’d just...left. He walked away while the two goons gave up any pretense at conversation dragged Ewen out the back entrance and shoved him into a van.
“Maybe he had somewhere more important to be,” Ewen muttered to the empty basement. His voice came out rough. His throat was dry from dehydration, and yelling for help that never came.
Except that didn’t track. The way Lamont had looked at him wasn’t the look of someone planning to abandon a stranger to kidnappers. That was the look of someone who gave a damn, at least in that moment.
So why didn’t he come?
Ewen’s fox whined, a pitiful sound that echoed through his thoughts. His animal side didn’t understand. Mates protected. Mates saved. That was the whole biological imperative of the bond, wasn’t it? Find your mate, keep your mate safe, live happily ever after in a den somewhere.
“Maybe I got it wrong,” Ewen said to the ceiling. “Maybe he’s not actually my mate. Maybe I’m just delusional from stress and sleep deprivation.”
His fox snarled at that, deeply insulted.
Okay then, Lamont was definitely his mate. Which meant either Lamont didn’t know, or Lamont didn’t care, and Ewen wasn’t sure which option hurt more. If he didn’t know…
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. It was just one set this time, lighter than usual.Not my bathroom break then. Ewen straightened up as much as the zip ties allowed, forcing his face into something resembling neutral.Don’t let them see your fear. That was Investigative Journalism 101, though admittedly Professor Douglas had been talking about confrontational interviews at the time, not kidnapping.
The woman who appeared wasn’t one of his usual captors. She was younger, mid-twenties maybe, wearing expensive jeans and a silk blouse that seemed wildly inappropriate for a kidnapping operation. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she carried a bottle of water as if it were a fashion accessory.
“Mr. Cross.” Her English was perfect, barely accented. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks. You should see the other guy.” Ewen tried for a grin. His split lip protested.
She didn’t smile. “Are you ready to tell us about your source?”
“I already told your friends upstairs. I don’t have a source. I’m not even working. I’m in Egypt for a vacation. Pyramids, sphinxes, the whole tourist package.”
“Lying makes this harder.”
“So does zip-tying someone to a chair in a basement, but here we are.”
The woman sighed and pulled over a plastic crate, settling onto it like it was a throne. She unscrewed the water bottle cap, tooka long drink, then held it just out of Ewen’s reach. His throat ached for just one drop.
“The documents you printed,” she said. “Where are they?”
“The ones from work?”They’ve got contacts at The Times?“In a recycling bin, most likely. I’m very environmentally conscious.”
“Your messenger bag is missing. We tore apart your hotel room. Nothing.”
Because Ewen had been paranoid enough to rent a second room under a fake name and stash everything there. Small victories.
“I lost it.”
“Maybe you gave it to someone.” The woman leaned forward. “Like the man you were speaking with at the restaurant. The tall one with the long hair.”
Ewen’s heart kicked against his ribs. They’d noticed Lamont. Of course they had. They’d been watching Ewen the whole time, waiting to see who he met with, what he handed over.
“That was just some guy asking for directions.”Don’t give me a heart attack,he warned his animal side.We have to protect him.
“In French?”