Sexy Beast III. Morgan Hawke

to worry about, he’d make something up. With that thought in mind, Anton finally closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

      Keisha’s voice in his mind was the first solid inclination of things gone terribly wrong. Anton? Are you awake? Something’s wrong. I just woke up, but we appear to be flying east, not southwest.

      Startled awake, Anton shook his head. He felt as if he’d been drugged when he glanced out the window. The sun should be to the left of the jet. Instead, it shone brightly through the starboard window, practically blinding him. Stefan! Wake up. We have a problem.

      What’s up? Stefan’s mental voice sounded groggy.

      Did you drink any of the bottled water?

      Yeah. Finished mine. Why?

      It appears we’re heading the wrong direction. We’ve all been asleep. I believe the water was drugged. Do you think there’s a chance we’ve been skyjacked?

      Shit. No wonder I’ve got a headache. Can you read the pilot? I don’t recognize him, but the copilot’s flown with us before.

      Anton held up his hand for silence and closed his eyes in concentration. Then he turned around and stared at Stefan, experiencing, for the first time in his life, a sense of pure terror. He narrowed his mindtalking to Stefan alone. It appears Secretary Bosworth’s plan for a Chanku breeding farm did not die with him. There’d been fear, even after Bosworth’s death, that more of his group might still exist. Still, Jacob Trent and Baylor Quinn had been unable to find tangible evidence.

      Now, unfortunately, Anton feared the group might have all the evidence it needed…and then some. What better target than two pregnant female Chanku?

      He and Stefan, of course, were expendable.

      Keisha’s angry mental voice slammed into Anton’s head. He spun around to catch her looking daggers in his direction. What the hell’s going on? Why are you talking over our heads? Xandi and I are not children.

      Anton sighed. I know, my love. Old habits. Plus, I didn’t want to alarm you until I knew for certain. I think the water we had was drugged. All of us have been asleep, something which rarely happens when we fly. I believe we’re being kidnapped. I want you and Xandi in the back of the plane. Grab all the blankets and pillows you can, just in case we have a problem. I want you to try and contact someone at Pack Dynamics. They may be using something that will jam your cell phones, but possibly your combined mental voice will reach another of our kind. Let them know what’s happening. Stefan and I need to have a talk with our pilot.

      Xandi grabbed Stefan’s arm as Keisha did the same to Anton. Be careful, Keisha said. Her amber eyes glittered with tears, but she had a look of such resolute power, Anton took strength from her touch.

      Keisha glanced toward Stefan. Both of you. More than our lives depend on your success. Anton noticed both woman cradled their bellies protectively, most likely without even realizing what they did. Keisha kissed him hard and fast before she turned his arm free.

      Anton helped Keisha out of her seat and nodded to Stefan as the women moved silently to the back of the plane. Stefan quickly slipped out of his clothing and shifted. By the way, Anton. You do know how to fly a jet, don’t you?

      But of course. Moving quietly, he gestured to Stefan to stay out of sight. There was no doubt, from the conversation he’d managed to glean from the pilot’s thoughts, that the men were heavily armed with both live ammunition and tranquilizer darts.

      Taking their captors alive was not an option. Nor was discovery. Anton glanced back at Keisha and Xandi, who were carefully strapping themselves into the rear seats. God how he loved her. His heart stuttered with fear, not for himself, but for his mate and their unborn daughter. He would die before he would allow anyone to take a single member of his pack, but if anyone touched his mate, harmed his child…Anton’s nostrils flared and his chest swelled as he gave the anger free rein. He took strength from it, felt it literally burning in his veins.

      With a single harsh breath, Anton turned and stepped to the doorway. He tried the handle. Locked. He should have guessed. The jet was modified for security with a locking door into the cockpit…one that locked independently from either side. He rapped sharply on the door, but, as he expected, got no answer. Flying at elevation, there was no reason for a pilot to worry about his passengers escaping.

      Anton stepped back from the door, touched one hand to Stefan’s furred shoulder for more power, touched the door with the other, and concentrated on the lock.

      Electricity snapped. Sparks flew. The acrid smell of burning wires filled the cabin. Anton’s hair stood on end, and he felt the current flowing through his body, flowing from the wolf who was his lover, his friend, his packmate. It flowed from Stefan, filling Anton and growing exponentially as it passed through his mind to the circuitry within the locks on the door.

      Suddenly the door burst open. The copilot rushed through, his pistol aimed straight at Anton. Before he could fire, the wolf charged, grabbed the man by the throat, and threw him to the deck. There was a sickening crunching noise as the vertebrae in his neck shattered. To be on the safe side, Stefan bit down, clamping his powerful jaws around his target’s windpipe without drawing blood.

      Paralyzed, with a broken neck, the copilot could only stare in horror at the wolf who killed him. Anton grabbed the gun and rushed through the door the minute Stefan nailed the copilot. As the pilot turned at the sounds of the attack, Anton shot him just above the heart.

      The hollow-point round tore a hole the size of a dinner plate out of the man’s back. He was dead when he hit the deck.

      Unfortunately, so were most of the controls on the jet.

      Anton shoved the pilot’s body out of his way and slipped into his seat, but he realized his error the minute he glanced at the myriad dials and graphs, all of them blank. His burst of mental power had fried the circuitry in the cockpit as well as the lock.

      He checked the radio. Dead.

      They were losing altitude quickly, though the plane dropped in a downward glide rather than an out-of-control spin. Whether the controls had locked in position or the auto-pilot might still be functioning, if only marginally, was anyone’s guess. Anton had no idea where they were. Clouds blocked the view to the ground. Stefan ran into the cockpit, tugging on his jeans as he entered. “What’s happening?”

      “Radio’s out, we’re losing altitude. Still have some engine power. I need to find a place to set down. Get the girls cushioned with anything soft you can find. Pile it around them. I want you back there with them in case I really fuck this one up worse than I already have.”

      “Anton, you did not fuck up anything. Those bastards are responsible. But I’ll give you this—get us on the ground in one piece and I’ll never bitch about being the bottom again.”

      Anton swung his head around to look at Stefan. The fool was grinning ear to ear. He leaned down and kissed Anton on the mouth, hard. “I’ll take care of the girls,” he said. “You land this sonofabitch.”

      “Tell Keisha I love her.”

      “Don’t worry. She knows. But I’ll remind her.” Stefan turned around and headed back to the women, still talking. “We’ll try and get word to the Pack. If stress helps power a message, we should be able to reach them with no trouble at all.”

      “That’s sex,” Anton said, gritting his teeth. “Not stress.” He grabbed the stick and watched as a cottony wall of clouds engulfed the jet.

      Ulrich Mason stared at the computer screen, but his mind was on his daughter’s wedding, less than two weeks away. He hoped he didn’t break down and cry walking Tia down the aisle. Though it wasn’t really an aisle, he thought. Not if the wedding was held on the beach.

      Damn, he wished Camille could be here to share this day. At least her baby girl was going to get married, just as his late wife had wished.

      He shook his head, grinning. Camille usually got her way. Even now, over twenty years after