“What about the second intruder?”
Mason’s expression abruptly hardened. “He fired off several shots that wounded two of our guards before he ran out of the lab.” The man’s voice revealed his opinion of the intruder. “I assume he was returning to Cole, although there’s the hope he’ll get lost in the swamp and be eaten by a gator.”
Locke allowed a humorless smile to curve his lips. He’d originally shuddered at the thick wetlands that surrounded the edge of the base. He hated the moisture that clung to the air and the scent of rotting vegetation. Not to mention the hideous cloud of insects. But he had to admit it did have a few benefits.
On the point of commanding his guards to go in search of the man, Locke stiffened as his computer made a distinctive ding.
He didn’t have to guess who was trying to contact him.
“Clean up this mess and see that the patients are sedated until things settle down,” he ordered Mason, waiting until the man had left the office and closed the door before he sat back in his chair and clicked the mouse to open the connection.
Instantly a male with short auburn hair, a thin face, and eyes so pale they looked silver appeared on the monitor.
Christopher Benson Segal. The man who Locke called master.
He’d clearly fed recently on Pantera blood, Locke absently noted, giving the impression he was in his early forties. Locke didn’t know his true age, but he suspected it was well over a century.
“Master,” he murmured, giving a respectful nod of his head.
As usual, Christopher came straight to the point. “I heard from our Colonel Cole that there was trouble this morning.”
Locke leaned forward, not bothering to disguise his annoyance. “He sent two goons into the facility and tried to take one of the females.”
Christopher shrugged. “With the money he’s paying us, he can take any animal he wants.”
“But—”
The older man overrode his protest. “Stanton, you know you’re like a son to me.”
Was he? Locke had always thought so, but lately he was beginning to wonder if he’d imagined an affection that had been the basis of his loyalty toward this man.
After all, it wasn’t as if he’d ever had anyone truly care about him. Not even his drunken mother. So how would he know if Christopher’s seeming fondness was genuine or not?
“Yes, master,” he murmured.
“Unfortunately, I no longer feel as if I can trust you to work with our newest partners,” Christopher continued in smooth tones edged with regret. “Perhaps it would be better if you returned to our headquarters in New York.”
Locke sucked in a shocked breath. “All the labs in New York have been closed.”
“This will give you to opportunity to clear your head and recall just who rescued you from the gutters of London,” Christopher soothed, before offering the final insult. “The Colonel and his men are on their way.”
Locke reached to shut off the monitor, feeling…nothing.
It was as if his master’s betrayal had stripped him of all emotion. Or perhaps the emotions he’d felt had always been an illusion.
Maybe he’d never stopped being that desperate boy living in the gutters who was willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to survive.
Slowly rising to his feet, he headed out of his office.
CHAPTER 5
Chelsea stared through the windshield of Michel’s car, trying to pretend that she wasn’t acutely aware of the male seated next to her.
Yeah, like she wasn’t going to notice the heat that pounded against her, or the musky scent of Michel’s cat that teased at her senses. Or even the brooding gaze that monitored her carefully bland expression.
Or the tension that was thick enough to cut with a knife.
She swallowed a small sigh. When she’d awoken tangled in Michel’s arms earlier in the morning she’d instantly gone into panic mode.
It wasn’t like her relationship with Locke. That had been easy…convenient. They’d been attracted to one another, and they’d shared an intellectual communication, but there hadn’t been any fireworks. Or the sense that she was being consumed by her lover.
But with Michel…
God almighty.
She felt as if she’d been stripped down to her most primitive soul. As if she’d been laid bare for the male who’d given her more pleasure than she’d ever dreamed possible.
It was terrifying.
And oddly exhilarating.
So was it any wonder when he’d tried to discuss the intense night of passion while they lay in bed, she’d instead kissed him until he’d growled in fierce hunger, unable to resist her seduction?
But while he’d allowed her to postpone the inevitable conversation, they both knew it was a temporary reprieve.
Clearly determined to prove her point, he reached out to grasp her chin, tugging her to meet his searching gaze.
“You know, you can’t hide from me forever, Chelsea.”
Her heart clenched.
He was so gorgeous with his starkly carved features, his stunning green eyes, and his smoldering male sensuality.
Sheer perfection.
No, not perfection, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind.
He understood the pain she’d suffered. And he didn’t mind her scars.
Another jolt of panic raced through her. “I’m sitting two feet away from you. That’s hardly hiding.”
His brows drew together, his expression troubled. “Why won’t you discuss what happened between us?”
Because I’m terrified you’re going to destroy my heart.
“Do you always do a postmortem after sex?” she forced herself to mutter.
He growled deep in his chest, the searing heat in the car becoming suffocating.
“We made love, we didn’t have sex. And no, I don’t always do a postmortem.” He leaned forward, allowing her to see his cat that lurked in the back of his eyes. “But then before last night I’d never been with a female I intend to keep.”
He intended to keep her?
“Michel,” she breathed, giving a shake of her head.
She hadn’t forgotten this male had treated her for weeks as if she had the plague. Or at least that was the excuse she was clinging to.
His lips twisted. “No need for that horrified reaction.”
“Just a day ago you considered me the enemy,” she reminded him.
His eyes darkened to moss, regret tightening his features.
“I considered my emotions the enemy.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. After the death of her family and her grandmother’s subtle rejection, she’d closed off her heart and concentrated on her studies.
Science didn’t hurt you.
People did.
“You don’t trust me,” she reminded him.
“I’m learning.” He grabbed her arm as she lifted her hand to bite her nail, tugging it toward his mouth. Sparks of pleasure jolted through her as his lips gently teased her inner wrist. “Just as you’re hopefully learning to trust me.”
The panic began to recede as she became lost in the warm depths of his eyes.
“What do you want from me?” she breathed.
“To explore the possibilities.” He nipped the center of her palm. “Is that too much to ask?”
Exploring possibilities. A tentative smile curved her lips. That sounded…nice. And not nearly as frightening as she’d expected it to.
“No,” she said in soft tones. “I think I’d like to explore the possibilities.”
“Good.” A wicked smile curved his lips as he placed her hand flat against his chest. “And while you’re at it, I have a few other things for you to explore.”
Her lips twitched. “You wish.”
“Every second of every day,” he murmured before releasing her hand and glancing toward the building that was bathed in a rosy glow from the morning sunlight. “Let’s go.”
With the liq
uid grace that revealed he wasn’t entirely human, Michel was out of the car and sprinting toward the side of the fence where he’d left the gate unlocked. Then, pausing long enough for her to catch up, he led her toward the back of the building.
“Are you going to tell me what the plan is?” She kept her voice pitched low enough only a Pantera could hear her words.
He paused at the corner of the building, carefully scanning their surroundings. “I’m assuming Locke has a new facility somewhere on Barksdale.”
Once certain they were alone, Michel headed directly toward the van that had been left by Locke’s guards.
“So why are we here?” she demanded, grimacing as she tripped over a crack in the pavement.
Unlike Michel, she didn’t have the smooth grace of a puma.
She was more in the drunken-sailor category.
“It would take too long to search the entire base, not to mention we risk alerting Locke to the fact we know he’s there,” he said, surprisingly rounding the van to the back. “The last thing we want is to have him disappear again.”
Chelsea frowned, confused about why they were skulking in the parking lot. “I doubt he’ll return to this building.”
“Which is why I intend to be delivered to his new lab,” he murmured, sending her a rare smile as he opened the back of the van and waved her inside.
Her brows lifted. “You want to hide in the van?”
“The driver is supposed to arrive at the lab at exactly eight a.m.”
She glanced into the back of the van that was filled with crates that she assumed were empty. There was no way Michel had left any research files in the hands of his enemy.
“You’re sure it’s going to Locke?” she demanded.
“We’re about to find out.”
Without giving her time to protest, he spanned her waist with his hands and hoisted up so she could crawl between the crates. She wiggled between the wooden boxes, her breath catching as Michel crouched beside her, his body angled to make sure no one could get to her without going through him first.
Chelsea shivered, a dangerous sensation piercing her heart.
Just a few days before, he would have been watching her with a suspicious gaze, waiting for her to betray him. Or more likely, he would have had her tied and gagged in the safe house.
Now his first thought was to protect her from the uniformed man who was opening the van door and sliding behind the steering wheel.
Could she offer him the same trust?
The answer came without hesitation.
Yes.
Feeling oddly euphoric, she leaned against his welcoming warmth. She wasn’t entirely certain what had just changed deep inside her, but it felt…epic.
In silence they traveled the short distance to Barksdale, coming to a stop as they reached the security checkpoint. There was a low conversation between the driver and one of the guards before they were driving through the gate and down a rough access road to a distant part of the base.
Chelsea grabbed one of the crates as it bounced backward, threatening to squash them. At the same time, Michel was pushing a small gun into her other hand. She sent him a frown before she realized the van was pulling to a halt.
With blinding speed, Michel was lunging forward, knocking out the driver the second he turned off the motor.
Chelsea glanced out the window, catching sight of the distant wetlands before she turned her attention to the rows of small hills that dotted the area around the van.
No, not hills, she silently corrected as a steel door opened in the center of the closest mound and three armed guards stepped out. They were bunkers built by the military to store weapons.
“Stay here,” Michel muttered, moving to shove open the back doors of the van.
Instantly Chelsea reached out to grab his arm. “Michel, no,” she protested, fear twisting her stomach. “There are too many of them.”
A feral smile curved his lips as he gently tugged free of her grasp and leaped out of the van.
Unprepared, the guards took a full second to react to the attack. A second that gave Michel that time to smash his fist into the first guard’s face, and kick the second guard hard enough that he crashed into the steel door and crumpled to the ground. The third guard made a valiant effort to fumble for his gun, but in two strides Michel had his hands around his neck, choking him until he joined his friends on the mossy ground.
Taking time to ensure the men were out for the count, Michel returned to lift her out of the van.
“We need to hurry before the guards are missed,” he murmured, tugging her past the unconscious humans and into the bunker.
“What’s the plan?” she demanded, grabbing the handrail as they jogged down the cement stairs that headed sharply downward.
Her brows lifted in surprise. Clearly the government had defied the marshy swampland by pouring enough cement and steel deep in the earth to prevent any moisture from leaking in.
Another surprise was the unexpected size of the bunker as they stepped out of the stairwell to discover a cavernous central room with several open doors leading in different directions.
“First, we release any prisoners we can find,” Michel said, his gaze shimmering gold as he allowed his cat to prowl close to the surface.
“And then?” she pressed.
He shrugged. “Track down Locke and get the hell out.”
“Okay.” She grimaced, her heart still racing from his earlier battle with the guards. She knew it would be ridiculous to plead with him to be careful, but she couldn’t halt the urge to try. “Just…”
“What?”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
A mysterious smile curved his lips as he cupped his hand around her nape and gently tugged her forward. Then, lowering his head he pressed a lingering kiss against her mouth before he reluctantly lifted his head and stepped back.
“Do you sense anything?” he asked.
Chelsea gave a shake of her head, as if that could clear her mind.
She was a scientist, not a Pantera spy who was used to sneaking into private labs and battling guards. Let alone indulging in sensual kisses in the middle of danger.
It was all very distracting.
At last closing her eyes, she concentrated on the tiny pulses of energy that marked the presence of life forms in the bunker.
She didn’t fully understand how the Pantera blood had changed her, or why she could detect the presence of others, but right now all that mattered was being able to do her part to keep Michel as safe as possible.
“There are seven Pantera and three humans just below us,” she at last said.
“That must be where the labs are located,” Michel murmured. “Anything closer?”
She pointed toward the doorway across the room. “A human in an office at the end of that hallway.”
Heat prickled in the air. “Locke?” he growled.
She gave a lift of her hands. “I can’t say.”
He hesitated, then leaned down for another brief kiss. “Wait here,” he commanded against her lips.
“Michel,” she protested as he straightened.
“You’re not a warrior. I don’t want you hurt,” he said, his stark features hard with warning. He wasn’t going to negotiate.
“What about you?” she demanded, even as she knew she was wasting her breath. “You’re a Diplomat, not a soldier.”
A lethal anticipation smoldered in his eyes. “Trust me, I can take care of myself.”
Chelsea grimaced as he turned to jog toward the nearest doorway.
Everything seemed to come down to trust.
***
Michel moved with as much speed as he dared down the long hallway. He hated leaving Chelsea alone, but it was too dangerous to lead her through the bunker that was filled with guards.
Or at least, he’d assumed there would be guards.
A growing suspicion slowed his pace as he located the stairs leading to the lower level. Where the h
ell was everyone?
Surely the three guards who’d met him outside the bunker couldn’t be the only security.
At last reaching the lab, Michel peered around the corner, his inner cat roaring at the scent of Pantera blood.
Shit. One of his people had been recently hurt. Perhaps even killed. His jaw locked as fury raced through him. Only his training kept him from bursting into the room and killing any human unlucky enough to cross his path.
Instead, he studied the two men dressed in white lab coats before turning his attention to the cages that lined the white tiled room.
As Chelsea had said, there were seven Pantera being held captive, plus a human female who was cowering in the corner of her cell. But it was the overturned desks and smashed equipment that captured his attention.
There’d been a fight in this room. One that had ended with at least one Pantera being injured.
Bitingly aware that the clock was ticking, Michel entered the lab. He preferred a plan before he tried rescue missions. Too many things could go wrong and an innocent could be hurt. But he could work on the fly when necessary.
Reaching beneath his sweatshirt, he pulled out the second gun he’d tucked in a holster strapped around his chest.
He could easily kill with his hands, but a bullet was quicker when dealing with humans.
He was halfway across the lab when the stirring of the Pantera at last alerted the researchers that they were no longer alone. Turning from the shattered glass they were trying to sweep into a corner, they both dropped their brooms and studied him in resigned horror.
“Not again,” the elder of the two muttered.
Again? Michel frowned. He didn’t have time for puzzles.
“Get in the cage,” he commanded, nodding his head toward one of the empty cages on the far side of the lab.
“Fine,” the first man muttered, keeping his hands raised as he backed into the cage along with his nervous companion. Michel swung the door shut, making sure it was locked before he turned toward the cages holding the Pantera. “No, don’t,” the researcher called out. “You’ve already got them stirred up. They may look human but beneath the surface they’re just…” The man’s words trailed away as Michel glared over his shoulder, his eyes glowing with the power of his cat. Both researchers stumbled backward, the younger one tripping over the narrow cot. “Oh shit,” the older one muttered.
Michel/Striker Page 6
