I walked into the kitchen, finding Faust on his hands and knees. "Do I want to know?"
Faust may have had a love for machines, but when he got bored, he tinkered. It was never good when Faust tinkered. "I'm not pulling anything apart," he responded dryly. "I think we have rats or mice. I keep finding shreds of paper."
I shot an accusing glare to Dog, who growled to let me know what he thought of being blamed.
"This old place definitely has rats, but why are you on your knees?"
Faust leaned back, pulling himself out from under the sink. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he shrugged. "I thought I heard one."
We were all alpha wolf shifters accustomed to a life of grueling work that had tested our physical and mental limits. We all hadn't had as difficult a time as Diesel adapting to our new way of life, either. The twins had taken to mercenary work like ducks to water. Considering their rough starts to life, it made sense. Those two had a lot of internal rage, and, since the attack, it constantly simmered just below the surface.
None of these men could adapt well to a life of sitting around and waiting. "I need you to do something for me," I said, waiting for Faust to stand before continuing. "Your pal, Nash, his mate and the other mates—they can do stuff, right? Stuff like what Jazz can do?"
"Yeah, I'd asked him for tips on how to deal with the extra abilities, and he refused to tell me. Said he'd been sworn to secrecy."
I could only imagine one person who would've done that, but I couldn't fault him. He was a good friend to Jazz, and that was enough to make me smile.
"Knox?" Faust frowned, my happiness such an unexpected thing it alarmed him.
Dog barked twice, and I looked to the hallway. Dog wouldn't bark for no reason. He stood at attention, his eyes never wavering from the hallway I'd come down.
Fuck.
I tore out of the kitchen, sprinting down the hallway where I unlocked my door.
I yanked the door open, stomping closer to the mattress. The empty mattress.
It didn't take long to piece together what had happened. The chair I used at my desk had been moved directly under the air vent. Jazz must have stood on top and pried the vent open some how. I growled as a rich, coppery scent hit my nose. Blood.
Searching the rectangular opening, I spotted a dark red smear on two of the corners. Jazz had hurt himself opening this vent, and now he was somewhere in the ducts.
He wouldn't find a way out of that dusty maze, but he could explore farther than we'd repaired and severely injure himself. He needed to be found.
"Faust! Diesel! Huntley! Jagger!" My team assembled, coming from scattered corners of the hotel.
"Let me guess," Huntley drawled. "You lost him."
I growled loudly, and Huntley took a sharp step back. I needed to calm down. My team didn't deserve my ire.
And I had lost him.
"He's in the vents. If he takes a wrong turn, the whole thing could give out from under him. Diesel, I want you to take the east wing—"
"When I find him," Diesel rumbled darkly. "Do we turn him in or kill him to be rid of the trouble?"
My fist lashed out, colliding with Diesel's face. Though the punch had cracked the bridge of his nose, I hadn't hit him hard enough. Yet.
Faust dove toward me, squeezing his arms around my middle as he kept me from charging forward. Huntley had Diesel in a similar hold, while Jagger stood in the middle acting as backup.
"Is this it? You choose that fucking guy over us? Your team?" Diesel yelled over Huntley's head. The man was a juggernaut. If he'd wanted through Huntley, he could've gotten through.
That meant he wasn't lost. Not yet.
I shook out of Faust's hold, making eye contact so he knew I had better control of the rage that still burned. "I'm not choosing anything. I simply can't recall when we decided threatening those weaker than us was something we do now." Yes, we'd done seedy, shady shit, but we were selective and only ever took jobs against those who deserved it. We'd never taken an innocent life and had saved countless.
Diesel sagged over Huntley's shoulders. His face turned gray, and he looked to the ground. "I'll take the east corridor," he mumbled, leaving immediately after.
I watched him go, still seething from the threat. This was wasted time, though. Our disagreement took moments that could've been spent searching for Jazz. "Anyone else have a question?"
I cast my gaze onto the others. Faust shook his head, while the others shrugged.
"Then move! I don't care what he makes you think you see—we need to find him now."
Huntley and Jagger shifted, taking off down the hallway, barking and snarling like two hounds of hell.
Faust clapped me on the shoulder before heading out silently, Dog on his heels.
I started at the bedroom, tracking the venting to where it split in a Y in the corridor. The right side had a bulge on the outside, likely a dent on the inside from where someone had set their knee down. I stalked down the right side, keeping my eyes up as I ran.
His scent was sweet, like lemons in the sun, and it made my nose tingle. I fought a driving desire to find him simply so I could bury my nose in those curls.
I stood at another split in the ducts. The venting sagged where it branched. If Jazz had made it down this way, he was lucky he hadn't crashed through in that spot. While searching the surrounding ceiling for clues, the twins tore down the corridor from the west.
Jagger tossed his wide wolf head, pointing toward the duct above me with his muzzle.
Jazz's scent grew stronger. At the same time, it sounded like a bowling ball was attempting to crawl rapidly down the vet.
My gut clenched. Jazz was fleeing now. He knew he was being chased, and he was afraid. That meant he wouldn't be as cautious as he'd been the first time.
Tracking his movement, I made sure to remain directly under him until he reached the split. The ducts shook and creaked before finally giving away, throwing huge clouds of dust and plaster into the air. The venting turned into a tube, depositing Jazz in my arms, kicking and screaming.
"Your dogs are a menace!" he snarled. Huge clumps of dust and webbing clung to his curls. His hands, still handcuffed and bound at his front, bled from where he'd torn his fingernails. "Let go of me! Let me go!" Jazz screamed.
I hauled the pint-sized menace over my shoulder and let my hand fall once over his ass.
My palm stung, and Jazz stilled instantly.
He'd put himself in danger. He'd caused unease in our team. There was a laundry list of reasons why Jazz needed a solid spanking—more than just the one. He'd probably never been appropriately disciplined in his life. But the moment my palm had collided with his cheeks and the sting had spread, Jazz hadn't fought or called me names—he'd moaned.
Chapter Five
Jazz
I wiggled, trying to find a way to sit on the chair that didn't remind me of what had happened in the hallway.
Or how I'd reacted to it.
It was too much to hope Knox hadn't heard my moan. The sound had come out of me at a time I hadn't known to safeguard against it. I still didn't understand it.
My elbows dug into the desktop while Knox made me sit with my hands up. He'd uncuffed my hands, but since I'd proven he couldn't trust me—his asshole words, not mine—he now resorted to new measures.