by Kate Rudolph
He gave a little wave, “Hello.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Not. Human.” She stammered.
Well, that was just rude.
Canary backpedaled until she ran into the door, her face an unnatural white. She could have blended in with limestone. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Well, not unprovoked, but Derek knew better than to add that. When Sandra sliced a glance at him, he grinned and she turned back around.
God, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, keep her close, and yell out for all the world to know that she was his mate. But he was doing his damnedest to keep a firm hand on those emotions. Time and place, he told himself.
“He’s house trained,” Sandra said, her tone inviting no further comments. She turned her full attention to Canary. “I called for the Sector’s help. So will you explain why you show up on his,” she jerked a thumb at him, “doorstep, saying you’ve defected?”
Canary bit her lip, it made her look young. Derek would have pegged her for about thirty, but the uncertainty on her face made her look barely older than a teenager. “I only gave that number that you called me on to one person.” Her eyes were bright with challenge, begging Sandra to prove her wrong.
“You’re not that reckless.” Sandra’s arms were crossed and she was pissed. Derek understood. Their plan, such as it stood, pretty much depended on the Sector showing up to save their asses. “And you don’t shirk your duties. We’ve known each other for four years, give me some credit.” Sandra had told him a little bit about Canary, but he was out of his depth right now. Neither Sandra nor Ruth had predicted that Canary would rush to help them without backup.
Canary went even whiter and sweat beaded on her brow. Her eyes narrowed, but then she seemed to calm herself, taking a deep breath and letting her shoulders hang loosely. Sandra’s own shoulders rose as her hands curled into fists. This conversation was more mental than verbal.
After at least thirty seconds, Canary shook herself slightly and said, “It wasn’t defection. It was resignation. They denied my request to send a team after you.”
“What about Ruth?” Derek said it before Sandra could. Wasn’t Ruth public enemy number one for the Sector people? Why would they abandon their search once they found a solid lead?
“They thought Sandra was...” Her gaze darted between them as she trailed off.
“Unreliable,” Sandra finished. “There was nothing to corroborate my story.” She reached back and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. Derek realized it wasn’t for comfort, but rather that she needed to hang onto something to resist punching a hole through one of his walls. He appreciated the effort and gave her hand a squeeze back.
Canary nodded sadly. “But I’m not going to abandon you. If Ruth has gone psycho stalker on you, you’ve got my ax. So to speak.” She held herself straight and tried to sound tough, but she was alone and a little pathetic.
Sandra took a deep breath and then turned around to look at Derek. “Can we have a minute? We’ll meet you in the kitchen in fifteen.”
Derek nodded. He was still an outsider to her friends and it would take time for that to change. They didn’t have that time right now. He backed out of the hallway as he heard Sandra say, “Ruth’s not the problem.”
He found Morse sitting on the couch near the basement door. Derek could hear the hostage pacing back and forth in his cell. When Morse saw him, his eyes narrowed before a huge grin broke out on his face. He held up his coffee mug, “Congratulations.”
It wouldn’t be clear to every shapeshifter, but Morse knew Derek and could sense the subtle shift in his scent brought forth by mating with Sandra. He nodded. “Thanks.”
Morse didn’t dwell or ask questions about it. “Is the cavalry here?”
Derek shook his head. “Doesn’t look like.” So what would they do now?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the end, Canary took it better than Sandra expected. There was a lot of swearing, followed by pacing, and then an almost disturbing calm. But a little over an hour later all five of them were settled in Derek’s kitchen, snacking on pretzels from a bowl at the center of the dining table, and planning out how to make Sandra’s problem disappear.
There was a strange look on Ruth’s face, caught between disbelief and hope. She and Canary had barely said two words to one another, but Ruth kept sneaking glances at her. Both women were cloaking their thoughts from Sandra. Obviously something had happened between the two of them after Sandra left the Sector. But they had no time to dwell.
Explaining the hostage had taken a little time. Canary couldn’t believe that someone had tried to kidnap Sandra, and she seemed to have difficulty with the two shapeshifters in the room. But she was doing her best to deal, and Sandra wouldn’t coddle her.
“So, let me get this straight,” Canary said, rolling a pretzel between her fingers. “You know where these guys are located, but you don’t know who they are. You have a hostage, but you don’t know what to do with him. And you don’t know why they wanted to take Sandra. And the only reason you didn’t pursue them was because you didn’t want to deal with bodies.”
“They have to want me for my ability,” said Sandra. “It’s not like I’m important.” Derek’s hand found hers under the table and squeezed. They were sitting beside one another. Despite the gravity of the situation, it was difficult to keep from smiling every time Derek’s hand brushed against hers.
“Why don’t we try asking Paul?” asked Morse.
“Who’s Paul?” Canary asked.
“The hostage,” both Ruth and Sandra said at the same time. Sandra kept speaking, “I’ve been trying to read him. He doesn’t know anything useful, nothing that Ruth doesn’t already know. They’ve got a boss, I was the target. They know nothing about the Sector or about people like us. They’re just mercenaries.” Despite the complicated situation, putting it all out there like that imbued Sandra with a sense of confidence. These guys were just mercenaries. They could be beaten.
“Once we take care of these assholes, you’ve got to run,” said Ruth. “Change your identity, all of it. They’ve only got you now because of the Sector.”
“No.” That suggestion was a bucket of ice water over Sandra’s optimism. “This is my home.”
“You haven’t even been here a month.” Ruth was trying to be reasonable, but she didn’t understand the pull.
Sandra squeezed Derek’s hand again but didn’t look at him. “I’m not leaving. Which means we’ve got to figure out who wants me and take care of him.”
Canary held up her hand, the small pretzel pointing skyward, “I think I know that.”
“What?” All four of them turned to her, speaking at once.
She shrugged. “Call came down from on high a day before I left. The target was Oskar Jung. Order was to eliminate. He was in Kiev six months ago, right around the time Sandra was there. He’s been tearing up eastern Europe looking for something - or someone. Then he went quiet two weeks ago. The assignment was only open to those who had top rated mental blocking and all mind readers were barred, no matter how weak their talent. The team is coordinating out of Spokane, Washington.” Canary gave the description with absolutely no inflection, her voice dropping an octave out of her normal chirp. She was scared and pissed.
The reminder of that final night in Kiev was enough to take Sandra back to it. She remembered getting out of the building, the door being held open by the dark haired man, and then the attack on her psyche. She’d repressed that night as best she could, but now it felt like his image was seared into her brain.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, her heart pounding. “Do you know what he looks like?”
Canary smiled after a short chuckle, “I’ve still got the picture on my phone.” She reached into her pocket and brought up the image, then slid the phone across the table to Sandra.
The hairs on her arms stood on end and the room felt ten degrees colder. Reverberations of the thoughts she’d heard that night echoed through her head, s
parking a headache. Sandra reached up, placing her fingertips against her temples, trying to alleviate the pain. She shoved the phone at Canary and pushed back from the table, standing up so quickly that her chair fell over.
She paced back and forth, sucking in deep breaths, trying to control the panic trying to overtake her. This man was the reason that she’d been ousted from her job. He’d nearly killed her that night, overloaded her power until she was senseless in the street. And now he wanted to kidnap her, making her newfound home unsafe.
But Sandra wasn’t alone this time. Strong arms wrapped around her as Derek pulled her close. She hadn’t heard him stand. But he held her tightly, rocking back and forth, giving her that movement she needed, right along with his protection. Tears pricked at Sandra’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She wasn’t going to give Oskar Jung the satisfaction.
“You’re safe,” Derek told her, his lips rasping against her ear. “And we don’t need to stay here. The world is a huge place. We can run and he’ll never find you.”
His words centered her, helped her find the calm hiding within her. Sandra breathed in his scent, woodsy and masculine and a bit like coming home. She tilted her head up. His hair was tousled, there were lines under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his focus was entirely on her. There might as well have been no one else in the room. He’d change his whole life for her, if only she said the word.
“No,” said Sandra, talking only to Derek. She kissed him quickly, a casual declaration that he was hers. “I chose this place, and it’s ours now.”
Derek let her go and she turned around to face the others at the table. They were all deliberately not looking at where she and Derek stood as if that were the same as privacy. But Sandra wasn’t embarrassed. Derek’s presence gave her strength, and she wouldn’t hide from the feelings that she had for him.
“Ruth, how good is your intel about where they’re holed up?” she asked.
Ruth shrugged, “It’s been a day, but pretty good. Why?”
“Since they’re mercenaries, I say we give them a chance to back out. If they don’t, we rain hell.” There was more to discuss, to plan. There always was. But everyone in her band of misfits understood that war was coming to them, and it was time to fight.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
They had a plan.
Of course, that plan had sounded a lot better while they were safely ensconced in Derek’s kitchen. But Sandra knew that the only way out of this mess was through. Which was how she ended up in a small cafe in Oak Wood sitting in a booth near the front window.
She felt exposed, as if she were being looked at through the scope of a sniper rifle. But they’d chosen this place for a variety of reasons, one of which was that there was no clear vantage point to take a shot.
Both Morse and Derek had been in favor of using Mama’s Cafe, though they hadn’t explained why. When Sandra saw the woman behind the bar, she got an idea. Jill Harper was easily six feet tall and looked like she could bench press a semi-truck. Her thoughts were cloudy to Sandra’s senses which tipped Sandra off that she must be another bear.
How many were there? If they all survived the day, Sandra just might find out.
She’d been sitting in the cafe for two hours after arriving around seven AM. Derek had sweet talked Jill into letting him hang back in the kitchen. Morse was at the house keeping watch over Paul, and Ruth and Canary had taken off to do their part. The mercenaries were going to be given one chance to get out of town, and they weren’t going to have time to reconsider.
Exit past the bathroom. Three civilians at two separate tables. Large window, target in plain sight of street.
Sandra straightened and looked towards the door. Her date was here.
A tall black man with hooded eyes and a shaved head walked in. He glanced around quickly and walked towards her. His thoughts were even clearer than the radio that had been quietly piping in pop standards since she sat down. He had one of his men in the alley behind the restaurant and another in a car in the street. He was armed, as were his two cohorts, but they didn’t plan to hurt her.
He slid into the booth and faced her. His back was to the door, but he showed no distress. “Miss Khee, it’s good to finally meet you.”
“Bastien Morrow,” she plucked the name from his mind. Names were funny things, unless someone was so deeply ensconced in a false identity, she could usually grab their true name and pertinent details like age and place of birth in a few seconds. “I’m glad you’ve come.”
He narrowed his eyes, but they both were silent when the waitress approached and asked if he wanted anything. Bastien turned her down. “I haven’t used that name in a long time,” he said. His words had a slight almost French tinge to them. He was Belgian.
“Would you prefer Xavier Hastert? Or Fred Klondike? What about Liam Woolsey?” Once she found his first alias, it was easy to grab the names of the others. It was like finding the proper folder on a computer, all the information she wanted, all in one place.
“Who are you?” Morrow asked. His eyes were a greenish brown and his brow furrowed in frustration and anger.
“That isn’t important,” she said. And it wasn’t for him to know.
“Oh, but I think it is,” he leaned in as he spoke and the gleam in his eye bordered on lascivious. “You’re worth a lot of money to someone. So why don’t you just come quietly and you’ll be unharmed.”
He was armed. Sandra didn’t know how many weapons he had. She needed to focus on their conversation now so she couldn’t split her concentration to find out. But she didn’t sense any violent intent. In fact, she was nearly convinced of something. “You’re not supposed to hurt me.” They’d drugged her before, but there hadn’t been a scratch on her. Hell, Ruth had done more damage than his men had managed.
“Is that so?” Morrow leaned back, a contemplative look on his face. “You seem to know a lot about me.”
“I do.”
“And you’ve got my man.”
Sandra nodded, “Also true.” It was difficult to keep her tone even when she remembered exactly what these mercenaries had done to her.
“So how about you tell me where he is, and then come with me for a nice ride. I’ve got someone who wants to meet you.” He spoke like he knew she would say no.
Sandra gave an alternate option. “Or, I give you your man back and you and your team leave town. No one gets hurt.”
“And no one gets paid.” He finished what she had left unsaid. “How do I know that my man is alive?”
We left your people alive before, didn’t we? She bit back the comment, though it almost escaped. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture and handed it over. Paul was sleep deprived, but uninjured. Morrow studied the photo before placing it in his own pockets.
He grinned, but a sense of dread washed over Sandra. “I didn’t think you would hurt him. Thank you for confirming that.”
“You’re in over your head, and this won’t end well for you. The guy who hired you won’t want to leave witnesses.” It was a guess, but one she felt confident making. Morrow and his men had no idea that the supernatural world existed. Even Sandra had barely scratched the surface. But these men lived between the cracks of society and wouldn’t be missed if Jung came in and took them out.
But Morrow was unfazed. “I think I can handle him. So come with me.”
“No.” This was their one chance, and it seemed that the mercenaries wouldn’t take it. Sandra had expected this, though she was a bit disappointed. “As it seems our business is concluded, I think you and your friends should leave first.” She still had their man, and taking her when she didn’t want to go would draw a lot of unwanted attention.
Morrow looked around, lips pursed. “You chose a good spot. It’s well lit, populated, but empty enough that we aren’t overheard. For some secretary, you’re not half bad at this. But you failed to take something into account.”
Sandra saw the town in flames. It was all in
his head, but Morrow was imagining it as if it were real. It felt like an attack, and he didn’t even know he was doing it. She couldn’t speak beyond the horror of his mind.
“Come with me now, quietly, or we burn this place to the ground. You might get away, but by the time we’re done with it, there won’t be a town left to come back to.” The threat was delivered so evenly that she might have thought that he was telling her the weather forecast.
Sandra looked out the window. There was a little park within view and she saw a mother and father laughing as their toddler wobbled toward them on unsteady legs. Two women walked down the street, chatting. And Bastien Morrow was ready to kill them all, just to get her.
“How much am I worth?” she asked. The amount had to be obscene for them to even consider the carnage.
“Enough.” They’d reached the end of their negotiating, and Sandra was worth enough money that he’d kill everyone to get to her.
She had to get his men away from town. There were four people who knew about the danger she was in, and Derek would be after her in seconds. It wasn’t part of their plan, but she had to go with Morrow. Too many people could get hurt otherwise.
“What does he want with me?” she asked. That was the missing piece.
“I don’t care. Last chance, Miss Khee. Or do we start shooting?”
She held up her hands. “I’ll come with you.” She hoped she was speaking loud enough for Derek to hear. There was no other way to relay the change of plans. “Just don’t hurt anyone.” He made no mention of getting his man back, apparently Paul had been written off as collateral damage.
Morrow smiled. “I’m glad you’re sensible. Now give me your phone and we’ll be off.”
He didn’t want anyone tracking her cell phone, nor did he want to give her a way to contact any friends. Of course he didn’t; he was a professional. She’d left her phone at her house when she ran from Ruth the day before, but they’d retrieved it before heading into town. Now Sandra slid it across the table. Bastien examined the old model smartphone, turning it off before dunking it in her water glass.
