Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (40 page)

"I don't even care," Axton said dreamily. "Just away. You found me. You're amazing."

"I told you I would find you," Leander breathed. "You doubted me?"

"I didn't dare to hope," Axton said, leaning in again, just to press against Leander's shoulder as he drove, like he needed to be touching him at all times--which was how he felt. "And we're still running."

"For a while yet," Leander agreed. "We run, we put a bit of distance between us and them, and we review my contingency plans to see which one is the most relevant."

"There's a list?" Axton asked, amused despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Of course," Leander said readily. "I mean, if nothing else there's always getting on a plane and flying to China, which is probably enough distance, but I think I have some more elegant options."

"China?" Axton asked, amused.

"What, I like China," Leander said.

"I guess it is far enough away," Axton said, "that the transportation alone might give Dana some trouble."

"If nothing else, a big blond biker looking motherfucker is gonna stand out like a sore thumb so we'll see him coming," Leander said.

"I have some ideas," Axton said, "about how to stay free."

"Good," Leander said.

"But right now I just want to run," Axton said, "to somewhere safe, at least for a while."

"I'll get us there," Leander promised.

"I love you," Axton said, with fervor, because it was true.

"I love
you
," Leander said, "and I would find you
anywhere
. Do you know that?"

"Yes," Axton said, "Now I do. Yes."

The car ride was short, and Axton spent most of it with his forehead pressed to Leander's shoulder, or with his hand on Leander's thigh, halfway out of his seat with the need to be touching. The frantic, desperate heat they had shared in the dark seemed like a vivid dream, and Axton needed feel Leander beside him to convince himself of the reality of their situation. Wordlessly, responding to Axton's endless shifting, Leander switched grips, and gave Axton the hand that had been lazily perched on the wheel. Leander didn't usually drive one handed like that, but Axton needed--

Yes. There. Leander's pulse.

Axton adjusted his senses, letting the wolf nose himself forward. The smell of Leander's skin had changed slightly, but it was still intimately recognizable, and Axton let the scent of his lover flood his senses. Unconsciously, Axton wrapped his hand around Leander's wrist, and within a minute, matched his breaths to the beat of Leander's heart.

Alive. Here. Together. Real.

yes

It soothed him. It felt like nothing had soothed him for months, but the steady sound of his lover's breath made Axton as calm and tranquil as he could ever remember being. It was the stillness of life, not death--the smooth glassy surface of a lake in the pale dawn, with dew on the grass and the hushed woodland sounds of bugs and birds emphasizing the quiet instead of breaking it.

"Axton," Leander called softly, as if he knew to draw Axton out quietly, as if he knew not to startle him. "Axton. We're here."

"Hm?" Axton stirred, still looking off into space, coming back trickle by trickle from his lack of verbal thought.

"Our next checkpoint," Leander said. "We're here." He did not move his wrist out of Axton's grasp.

"Oh," Axton said dreamily, "right." With a fluid but slow grace, Axton released Leander, drew back, opened the car door, and exited. Once he was out, he looked around in vague, polite interest. "What now?"

"Now we go to the airport," Leander said.

Axton nodded.

"Why?" he asked.

"...to get on a plane," Leander said.

Axton blinked.

Yes--Leander had mentioned a plane--that was what you did with planes--you got on them. You flew places. You flew far away.

"But," Axton said, less eloquently than he'd hoped. Getting on a plane, going far away, right. That had made sense until it was about to happen. How far would Dana pursue? They couldn't fly together. He'd come up with a plan, so that he and Leander could be free, but it wasn't a plan that he could carry out from far away.

Without the plan, there was Dana.

Shit.

"You'll be fine," Leander said. "I know you worry about planes, but I think I worked it out."

"No, I mean," Axton tried. He stopped. "That's not what I mean."

"What, then?" Leander asked, mystified.

Fuck. If Dana came after him, there would be another fight. Dana would lunge for Leander first and feel bad about it later--except not really; he'd feel bad about Axton feeling bad, which wasn't the same thing. They needed to leave soon, or Dana would find them, and, shit, shit, shit. That left Dru unpunished and Helen's sanity unavenged. Axton would be willing to risk himself in a conformation with Dru or Dana right now, but not with Leander...

Dana had claimed that all the enforcers would come after Axton if he ran, now that he was officially a pariah. But Dana had lied about working alone before; Axton was not concerned about a pack of wolves descending upon them. Axton was concerned about Dana, acting alone and insane with what he thought was love.

"I have a plan," Axton said.

"You have a plan," Leander echoed.

"Yeah," Axton said, vaguely proud.

"What's your plan, then?" Leander asked.

"The plan is coup d'état," Axton said.

Leander paused.

"What does that even mean," he said, in that flat sort of way that meant he wanted the question to go away, not to get an answer.

"It's complicated," Axton said.

"Uh huh," Leander said.

"I'll tell you about it on the plane," Axton said.

"Uh," Leander said, "but you won't, though."

Leander popped open the trunk and hauled out some metal grating, clicking it into place.

And then Axton was looking dubiously at another crate on the ground--this one was clearly a pet carrier, partially plastic and not intended to contain the potential thrashing of a wild animal.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Axton said. It was the voice he used when he wanted a lack of question instead of an answer.

"Not even remotely," Leander said.

"Why?" Axton asked.

"Deception," Leander said. "Deceit. Hiding in plan sight."

"I'm not getting in another box," Axton said, "the first one only worked because I was all--frenzied with love and whatever."

"Given that your stated issue with planes was that you'd freak out and go all wolfy," Leander said, "this seemed like an appropriate solution."

"Can't panic and go wolf if I'm already wolf," Axton said. "And I don't panic and switch the other way unless I'm dying. Sure. I get it. Makes sense."

"But...?" Leander said expectantly.

"It's a fucking
box
, man," Axton said.

"There's no other way to break the scent trail," Leander said, "because what dogs--and therefore werewolves, presumably--perceive is the shedding of our skin. We can't smear ourselves in anything to block our scent--that won't work. The water thing doesn't really work either, and anyway, there's no useful body of water around. So if you have a better idea to implement on the fly, by all means, go for it."

"It's a box," Axton said. "A box."

Leander took a deep breath and clearly had to suppress the urge to throw his hands in the air.

"Axton," he said in an even tone, "I realize this is less than ideal. But given the severity of the threat we're trying to escape, I thought it would be a reasonable amount of discomfort to endure."

Axton felt himself waver--or, more accurately, he felt himself wanting to waver. Leander was trying so hard to sound reasonable. But it was a
box
, and while it was the right size--exactly the right size!--to feel comforting and cozy, like a den, Axton hadn't forgotten being locked up in a basement. It made him uneasy; it made him want to pace around nervously.

Then again, Leander didn't know that. How could he? Axton hadn't been able to tell him yet.

"Besides," Leander said, "I thought you liked boxes. Denning instinct or whatever."

"I did," Axton said.

"It won't be for long," Leander said.

"You're sure?" Axton asked.

"Given that I went through a bunch of hoops to get proof that my third generation wolf hybrid is up to date on all his shots and cleared for travel?" Leander said, waving around a stack of papers, "Yes. Plus, you have a pet plane ticket."

"I see," Axton said evenly. "Where are we flying to?"

"Florida," Leander said. "Then we're getting on a boat."

"If I'm in the cargo hold, I can't get to you if Dana storms the plane or anything," Axton pointed out. "And by now, he's looking for me."

"If Dana storms the plane successfully, we got bigger problems, babe."

"Point," Axton said.

"On the plus side, if he successfully storms a plane, the feds will get involved," Leander said, "it could get tragic. He might get shot enough times to make it fatal." He sounded hopeful.

"I have some unfinished business back there," Axton said, "to take care of someday."

"Jesus christ," Leander said. "Just as long as someday isn't today."

"It isn't," Axton said.

"But you're still hesitant."

"I've never been on a plane," Axton said, surprised that part of him still managed to care.

"Well, hurrah for first times," Leander said.

"But..."

"But the issue is...?" Leander prompted.

"Just..." Axton tried.

"Are you afraid of flying?" Leander asked, a small smile quirking at his lips.

"Apparently," Axton said, but then he shrugged. He was afraid of boxes; he was afraid of planes; he was afraid that Leander was going to get killed. He was afraid of a lot of things right now, but they all roiled inside him until the edges between them became fuzzy. Fear was just fear after a certain point. Axton could ignore it, like a stomachache.

"If you're going to agree, you should do it soon," Leander said, glancing at his watch. "Our contact is due any minute now."

"Our contact?" Axton asked, but he heard a car on the opposite side of the line of trees that separated their lot from the road, so he blinked and shed his human shape. The fear-ache inside him surged, but he took deep breaths until it subsided.

Leander picked up his discarded clothes, tossed them in the car, and then opened the crate. Axton walked in obligingly--he held his head high, as he had when he had gone into the basement, defiant and determined. To quiet his pounding heart, Axton told himself that Leander was not a jailer, and the crate was not a prison. The latches--Axton looked at the latches intently. Yes. He could burst out of this if he needed to.

"See," Leander said conversationally, as he peeled off his coat and then his shirt. "You have to figure that Dana, or Dana and accomplices, potentially, are going to be in hot pursuit. Assuming werewolves can trace a scent at least as well as a search and rescue team, they can probably follow the truck for a while once they identify it. Right?"

Inside his crate, Axton nodded.

"Generously assume that they follow us here in a timely fashion. It's a small airport, but there's still a ton of scents crisscrossing each other, so tracking that way will be tough. But they have other options--they're local; we're not. People are going to tell them if two strange men hustle onto a tiny plane." Leander was pulling on a different set of clothes, just as the car Axton had heard parked besides them.

"So they'll be looking for two guys," Leander finished. "And not a guy, a girl, and a dog."

Sarah tumbled out of the car and trotted over to them. The perpetual pencil skirt and heels were gone, as was the scent of mango shampoo clinging to her hair. Axton would know her voice and true scent anywhere, but the woman in front of him was visually unrecognizable. Her hair was bleached blonde, pin straight, and freely swishing around her face. She looked sporty and tan. Most bafflingly, she was in sneakers and gym gear.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly. "Am I late?"

"No more than I anticipated," Leander said.

"I'm usually very punctual," she pointed out. Then she waved at the crate. "Hiii, puppy."

Axton was very used to Sarah as a brunette, with her big hair in an oversize bun or tumbling all the way down her back, as a woman who was elaborately performing femininity in a way that required perpetual high heels and at least three different colors of eye shadow, so he just stared.

"Oh, yes, it's just me, puppy puppy puppy," she cooed, drawing near the crate, sticking her fingers in through the grating. "I'm just in disguise. Whosa good puppy, whosa good boopy? You're a good boopy, yes you arrre. Booooopy. Boop. Boop."

Axton had no idea how to handle this, so he stayed absolutely still, like a deer hoping a car would stop. Leander looked away. Everyone was uncomfortable.

Sarah stood up, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at both of them.

"I want someone to fucking say it out loud," she said, in her normal voice. "Just once."

Silence.

Axton bowed his head, looked away, and pawed at the bottom of his crate.

Leander had also stilled, refusing to look at anyone in particular, but he snapped back into action suddenly.

"Maybe when we land," he said, striding over to their new transport and tossing a duffle bag in.

"I will give him
so many tummy rubs
, you possessive son of a bitch," Sarah threatened. "You won't be able to stand it."

"Why would I mind you petting my dog?" Leander asked, with an elaborate innocence he wasn't even trying to sell, tossing more things into the car. "Come on. We're on a schedule."

Sarah sighed.

"I'm tired of being treated like I'm stupid," she said, but she rummaged through her purse and produced a new hat for Leander, who was now out of his usual recognizable wardrobe and in a shirt that had skulls and wings and roses on it all at the same time, the uniform of the kind of hot douchebro that went to the gym only to do bicep curls and hit on chicks. Axton loved that kind of hot douchebro, but mostly from a distance. He could see Dana wearing that shirt. It was terrible. It was also terribly sexy, in that trashy-hot way that Axton still had an appreciation for, even though he'd thought he'd outgrown it.