by Tina Moss
“All right, you all know why we’re here and what we need to do.” Talon took the lead as they approached the crime scene. “Doubt these Buckhorn boys have ever seen anything like this, so try not to let them mess it up too much.”
They nodded and grunted their affirmatives as a pair of uniformed officers walked toward them.
“We’re from the PCD,” Talon said, flashing a badge. “My boys here will take the homes.” He pointed a thumb at Slick and Bull. “Agent Bradshaw and I will check out the car.”
“Yes, sir. My partner will lead your agents to it, and I’ll show you to the vehicle.” The shorter of the officers waved for Jame and him to follow while Slick and Bull headed toward the first victims’ house. “As you read in the file, we think the perps started with this Jeep,” he motioned toward the black 4X4 in the center of the road, “Then moved on to the homes along the street.”
“How many houses were hit?” Talon eyed the surroundings. The little neighborhood looked like something out of an Americana picture postcard. The street should be littered with kids playing tag or baseball, not police surrounding crime scenes with yellow tape.
“Twenty-two dead. Four found on the street. Eighteen in their homes. Same cause of death for all of them.” The officer paused. He angled his face away, but not before Talon caught the look of horror in the man’s eyes. “Their blood was drained, skin torn off, muscles ripped to the bone.”
Talon’s mouth went dry. As part of the PCD, he’d seen and heard many things over the years that stuck with him. Things that made him wake up at night in a sweat. Nothing as bad as the one night ages ago. His mother sprawled over the remains of the coffee table. Her head cocked at an awkward angle. Blood. So much blood. The thick reddish brown liquid seeped into the carpet, creating a stain he knew would never disappear. No matter what he’d seen, nothing had come close to that night, but this…this was close.
The officer pointed to the vehicle and said, “Anyway, this is where we think the attack started. Our local team and the Phoenix PD have already been here. Phoenix’s medical examiners have been all through it, so you’re free to do what you need to.”
“Thanks.” Talon nodded as the man left them to it. “Jame, take the interior. I’ll check the perimeter. Be careful. Even if the MEs cleared it, I want fresh samples for us. Bag what you find.”
“Got it.” She donned a pair of latex gloves from her pocket as he did the same, then went around to the driver’s side. “Man, someone did a number on this windshield.”
Eyeing the busted front, he noted the huge dents in the hood and grill. “Looks like it’s been in a wreck. But no other car and no sign of anything to cause the damage. So, what made the impact?” He circled the truck, careful of where he placed his feet. The debris looked normal for a crash. Pieces of metal, glass and some plastic surrounded the area, but the strangest piles caught his attention. “What in the name of—?” He bent down to inspect one. They sat in a neat row all along the front of the Jeep. Using a gloved finger, he sifted the material and held a small sample to his nose. “Ash.”
He pivoted on his heel to find the source. Ash meant fire, but what had burned? The car? Gasoline igniting? No scorch marks on the ground. Crouching, he searched under the car for a leak. Nothing. “Jame, come have a look at this.”
Hopping from the vehicle, she knelt by his side. He held up the sample to her. “What do you smell?”
“Charred scent. Something smoky? Ash.” She confirmed his thoughts. “What’s it from?”
“That’s the million dollar question.” Reaching in his pocket, he extracted a baggie and collected a sample. “We need to get this to the lab.”
“Agents,” the officer from before ran in their direction, waving his arms, “Come quick. The woman’s being moved.”
Jame raised her brows and beat him to the question on both their minds. “What woman?”
“The woman...” The man clasped his knees, gasping for breath. “Transport...St. James...Hospital...Phoenix.”
Talon rose to his feet and grabbed the officer by his collar. “Who are you talking about?”
“The driver...” He coughed and gagged. They all eyed the Jeep at the same time. “Didn’t you see it in the file,” he said finally pulling in enough air to speak. “There were twenty-three victims, but—”
“Only twenty-two dead.” Talon released the officer and swallowed hard. The revelation smacked him in the face. “A survivor. There’s a survivor.”
Chapter Three
St. James Hospital, Phoenix, Arizona
Sera opened her eyes to fluorescent lights shining down from a 1970s drop ceiling. The long cylindrical bulb flickered twice, in danger of burning out. Its glare caused little red dots to form in front of her eyes. She tried to rub them away, but a plastic tube blocked her attempt.
“What the—” She sat up, ripping the IV cable from the back of her hand. “Ow.”
“That wasn’t such a good idea.” A stranger stood at the foot of her bed. His golden skin and hair rivaled the finest portrayals of classic Greek gods. If she didn’t know better, she’d dub him Apollo incarnate. The fact he glowed from head to toe added to the godly comparison.
“Probably not.” She pulled the medical tape from her hand and massaged the glue away. Scanning him under narrowed eyelids, the strangest feeling gripped her. I know him. A tingling started at her temples. “Who are you?”
“Complicated question. And far too hard to answer given your current condition.” He waved his hand in her direction, sending fragments of light across the bed. They caressed the sheets like falling raindrops. “Let me say simply that we are family. And that genetic tie echoes within you.”
Sera’s brows shot skyward. “Family?” The one word flitted on the end of a breath.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway.
“An interruption. No matter. Now, that you’ve finally begun to embrace who you are, we’ll be able to talk again.” The stranger smiled as a brilliant white light filled the room. It blasted through every crevice, ever corner. Darkness had nowhere to hide. Radiating from the stranger’s torso, it moved outward in circular patterns. As it brightened, the rays broke into small particles. In one quick surge, they burst like a fireworks display leaving nothing of their presence behind.
Her jaw dropped open as the stranger disappeared at the same time the light faded.
“Holy shit.” She gripped her hospital gown with clammy hands. The odd light show might have shocked a human, but it hit all too close to home for her. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Guuuuuy.”
No time for questions now, pet. You’ve got company. Guy’s voice pounded in her brain, a migraine flitting behind her lids.
She lay back down, sinking into the pillows. Her lips tightened into a thin line. Tucking the sheet around her body and stifling her agitation, she tried to look more like a normal patient.
The door swung open. A human—well, she was fairly sure he was human—entered wearing a white hospital coat and blue scrubs. A clipboard tucked under his arm.
“Ms. Benenati. You’re awake.” The man’s voice held a cheerful note that forced a smile to her lips.
“Yes. You’re my doctor?” Her pulse sped up. Who the hell was that stranger? And what happened in Buckhorn? Had the doctor found out about her? He couldn’t have. No one could know. She could lose everything, her life, her career—not that she had much of one, but still. Hell, if the authorities found out she wasn’t psyke, she’d be nothing in the law’s eyes. Worse than invisible. She’d be without rights, without protection. Gods, no. She needed answers. Now.
“I am.” His wide grin sparkled all the way to his brown eyes. “Doctor Cordone. Nice to meet you at last.” He patted her hand over the sheet. His subtle aftershave smelled of musk and peppermint. “You were flown to us from Buckhorn Community after the incident.”
“Incident?” The way he said that word sent a chill straight to her heart.
He paused. “Let’s ju
st have a look at your vitals, shall we?”
Thirty seconds was all the time she gave the doctor to check the monitors, frown at the ripped IV, and listen to her heartbeat before she pressed him for more. “Doc, what happened to me? Where am I?”
Nodding as he checked her pulse, he said, “The authorities ordered me not to say too much. But I believe in doctor–patient privilege. You have a right to know.” He eyed the door, pulling his hand away from her wrist. “You’ve been unconscious for the last eighteen hours. Although all of your stats from the time you arrived until now have looked one hundred percent normal.” Sera felt his warm breath on her cheeks as he leaned in closer. “Ms. Benenati, I can’t find anything medically wrong with you. And yet you were the sole survivor.”
“The authorities?” She coughed. “A survivor? Of what?” The chill in her heart spread to her lungs. She wanted to bolt out of bed, out of this hospital. Screw the answers. This was too much.
Dr. Cordone opened his mouth, but the scraping of the door against the tiled floor silenced him.
A pair of shifters, one male and one female, walked in. The man’s tall solid frame would no doubt make for an impressive animal. But it wasn’t his height that caught Sera’s attention. His olive skin, black shoulder length hair, and full lips did. Whoa. She fidgeted in the itchy hospital gown, a flush warming her cheeks. She forced her gaze to the second shifter. The woman stood a few inches smaller than Sera, on the petite side as shifters went. Dark hair with platinum streaks sat in a high ponytail atop her head. Her body was tense as if ready to spring.
The man came around to the side of the bed next to Dr. Cordone. A masculine scent, like wood burning over a fire, brought a fluttering sensation to her stomach. She struggled not to squirm. His bright blue eyes surveyed the doctor from head to toe. He nodded toward the door. When they rounded on her, she felt them pierce through to her soul.
“Ms. Benenati, these are agents from the PCD.” The good doctor gulped loudly. “They’ve been waiting to speak with you.”
“Thank you, doctor,” the woman said. “We’ll take it from here.” Her smile was friendly, but didn’t quite reach her catlike hazel and gold eyes. She grabbed the doctor by the shoulder and shoved him into the hallway.
A soft click reached Sera’s ears when the door closed and a lock slid in place. She sat up in bed and met the woman’s stare.
“So, the PCD’s here. I didn’t realize a car accident warranted a call from the feds.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could control them. Guy’s irritating laughter echoed in her head. She couldn’t be sure if the bold statement came from her or Guy. Either way, she knew it was the wrong thing to say and swore at her stupidity.
“Miss Serafina Benenati,” the man said through a grin. He pulled a rolling stool from under a medical supply table. Sitting on it and inclining onto the bed’s side bar, he appeared less threatening and even more gorgeous. “We meet at last. I’m Special Agent Talon Rede, and this is my partner, Special Agent Jame Bradshaw.” He waved at the woman who stood against the door as if her body, and not the lock, would hold off any intruders. Agent Rede nodded at his partner indifferently then cast a heated gaze on her. “This wasn’t the way I’d pick for us to meet, but I’m afraid we have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”
Her mouth struggled to stay closed. Out of all the special agents, why the hell did it have to be him? The man radiated sex appeal and her prior call with him changed an already uncomfortable situation into downright awkward.
Don’t overreact, pet. And if you value freedom, don’t say too much. Guy whispered through her mind. Be careful.
“Sera.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, conscious of the protective posture it displayed. She’d need to use every defense she could to get through this. “I prefer Sera. Remember.”
“Of course. Sera, it is then.” He leaned closer. His eyes burned through her, breaking past her shields, stripping her naked, exposing her secret. Gods, she couldn’t let him see the truth. No one could know what she was. Ever. His commanding tone brought her to her senses, “Call me Talon.” An edict, not a question.
Talon inhaled, his chest expanding and the black cotton fabric of his T-shirt pulling taut. The motion brought Sera’s eyes sweeping down his body. Broad shoulders tapered to his trim waist. A gun, ID, and a cell strapped to a leather belt. Dark jeans covered his long legs that wrapped under the stool in a casual pose. Combat boots tapping against the floor completed the view. By the time she dragged her stare back to his face, her throat felt bone dry. He was more gorgeous than she’d imagined.
Going to need a good defense against this one, huh? Guy said, still laughing. How is it you twenty-somethings put it? Oh yes, he’s a hottie, right?
Although Sera alone could hear the annoying parasite, she had the urge to deny him aloud. She stifled it, instead forcing her face into a neutral expression and letting Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” play through his half of their shared brain. The blaring lyrics and pumping bass drowned Guy in its rhythms.
Burrowing into the pillows, she tried to hide from the sexy-as-sin agent’s scrutiny.
“Jame,” Talon said without taking his eyes off Sera. “Why don’t you get us something to drink?”
“What’re you kidding me?” A buzzing sound emanated from the door where Jame’s power surged. “I’m not some errand girl.”
Moving with inhuman speed, Talon rose and crossed the room to stand nose-to-nose with his partner. In a feral growl, he said, “I wasn’t asking. That’s a direct order.” He ripped open the door, not bothering to unlock it. The cheap metal lock snapped and the wood around it splintered. “Now, go.”
The slamming muffled Jame’s indignant cry from the hall. Talon pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath as his partner’s curses and stomps receded.
Sera snickered, her defenses slipping a peg. Steeling her spine, she said haughtily, “Reason you want me alone, Agent Rede?” Her voice trailed off when Guy’s taunting started again. That a girl, broke into the heavy metal music cycling through his half of their mind.
The right side of Talon’s lips pulled up in a suggestive smirk. The scent of charred wood wafted from his skin, making her mouth water. “Afraid you caught me. And now that we are alone...” He walked back to the stool, draped a leg over it and leaned in close once more. His large frame hovered near, an intimidation tactic no doubt. “You need to tell me everything.”
Sera tried not to stare into his eyes, afraid of drowning in those blue pools. Gods, their phone call had so not prepared her for the face-to-face power of Agent Rede. The fluorescent lights above grew brighter as if reacting to her nerves. She sank further into the pillows, determined to keep her cool. Ok, so he’s a little scary and a little…attractive. Her eyes met his for a split second as she studied his face. Fine, very attractive. Whatever. He sees you as a witness, not a woman. You can’t have him. Even if he did see her otherwise, a small connection risked revealing her secret—a secret that could endanger her life….or worse. Despite the reality of him turning out far better than her most spectacular fantasies, she couldn’t risk it. Stealing her face into an iron mask, she lowered her gaze from his penetrating stare. And you need answers, not a date.
“What do you want to know?” Her voice remained steady, although her insides did somersaults.
“All of it, Ms. Ben…Sera.” He half-smiled at his own correction. “What exactly are you hiding behind those intriguing eyes?” His mouth pulled into a line, tugging at the corners, a hungry predator sizing up his next meal. An animalistic edginess coated the question, though it passed under a civil pretense. “What happened in Buckhorn?”
You don’t have to tell him anything, pet. Guy’s voice grated against the electric guitar. She shook her head, ratcheting up the mental volume. His words hissed through it like a slithering snake. Stay on guard. Don’t want him getting too suspicious. High stakes risk, pet. He slunk down into their brain’s hidden
alcoves.
She sat up taller, refusing to be intimidated. Having hidden what she was, who she was for almost half her life gave her an inner strength even Guy couldn’t touch, and certainly not some daunting—although, smoking hot—special agent. “You want to know about Buckhorn?” His nod had her continuing, “I’ll tell you, but quid pro quo as the saying goes. I share, you share. No dodging questions this time.”
A frown creased lines on his forehead. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” He flipped both hands palm up. But a tick in his jaw told her otherwise.
Too many secrets. The thought plagued her, but she pushed it aside. The agent wouldn’t be getting any info from her without coughing up some of his own. “Good.” Eyeing the room, she looked to see if her belongings lay hidden. An antiquated TV, a nightstand with two drawers, a telephone, all of it spoke of standard hospital fare, nothing of hers. “If you find my cell phone, I’ll show you my last couple of calls.”
Talon sat back, moving further away from her. “We’ve already searched your phone.”
She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, but refused to rise to his bait.
Lowering his voice to an infuriating all-knowing tone, he said, “We know you were interviewing Ms. Brown for the Arizona Hornet and that you got the tip from a blocked call. Intel shows her family as connected to the Rodriguez murder victims. Local police waited too long to call us in.” He fisted a hand in his lap. “Jackasses.”
“Why?” Her voice hitched, the journalist itching to know more. When Talon remained silent, she added, “Quid pro quo, remember?”
“Isn’t that usually the special agent’s line?”
Sera raised a brow and waved a hand for him to continue.
“I’m the one who needs answers, here. This isn’t a game.” His boot hit the bottom of her bed like an iron fist. It shook the mattress beneath her. “I don’t have time for another round of reporting like your damn call. You tell me about this,” he squeezed the guardrail’s frame, leaving imprints in the solid metal, while his leg tapped a furious rhythm that rattled the entire bed, “accident. What happened to you in that truck, Sera?”
