by Renee Rose
“Shhh,” he soothes. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He slips an arm around my waist. “You’re shaking.” Sam’s voice carries shock.
Shit. It’s not just from seeing the torture clip. It’s the Barrington’s.
“I’m just... hungry. Is there anything around here for breakfast?”
Sam lets out a low curse and releases me, striding to the cabinets. He swears again as he surveys the canned goods.
“It’s okay.” I don’t know why I need to soothe him, but he seems upset about not having breakfast food for me. “I don’t usually eat much for breakfast anyway. Just a granola bar or piece of fruit.”
He whirls, expression incredulous. “You’ve been killing yourself for that research.”
I draw back, stung by the accusation.
Pain shadows his eyes before he curses again and slams his fist down on the countertop. “Come on,” he clips and strides toward me, grabbing my hand.
I shake it off. “No, I’m fine. I don’t know why you’re getting so uptight.”
He stops and turns. Regret etches over the lines in his youthful face. “I’m just mad at myself for forgetting your needs. And I’m mad at Data-X for sucking the life out of you. Please. Let me take you to breakfast. I owe you that much, at the very least.”
Damn him for turning tortured into charming. I shake my head, but a smile tugs at my lips. “You’re crazy.”
He flicks his eyebrows up. “No question about that, sweetheart.” He extends his hand, not presuming to pick mine up this time, just offering his.
I take it. “Fine.”
His smile is a stunning reward. He grabs his phone and the keys to the van and leads me outside.
I breathe in the scent of pine and cool mountain air while he locks up the mobile home. It’s delicious—so fresh and invigorating. When was the last time I even paid attention to my natural surroundings? I can’t remember a time. Maybe before my mom died.
We get in the van and Sam drives down the mountain, into San Diego. We end up downtown, where he parallel parks and we get out. He tugs me into a drugstore and buys me a toothbrush, t-shirt, underwear and leggings. He insists on stuffing my dress and lab coat in a dumpster. Something about scent trails.
We sit down in a hipster diner. Suddenly starving, I order huevos rancheros with avocado and a cup of coffee.
Sam appears pleased. He orders enough food for three more people.
Tremors at the base of my skull have my head shaking, but it’s not noticeable enough for Sam to see.
“My apartment isn’t far from here,” I try again. “Maybe we could just swing by to see if the coast is clear.”
Sam narrows his eyes. “Tell me what you need there, Layne.”
I suck my lower lip into my mouth, wishing he wasn’t so damn perceptive. “Nothing. Nevermind. You’re right—it’s not worth it.”
He watches me for a long moment. “Are you from San Diego?”
A prickle of unease shudders through me. There’s mistrust behind the seemingly casual question. Probably because he knows I’m keeping something from him. Maybe that’s why I tell him more than I mean to.
“I grew up in San Francisco. Chinatown.” I head off the annoying question everyone wants to ask when they hear where I’m from. “My mom died when I was eight. My father never recovered. He’s a biology professor. He took a position in London after I went to college, so I don’t really have a home anymore.”
Sam’s gone still, like I’m sharing the secrets of the universe. “Do you visit him in London?”
I don’t know why I blush. I guess because I’m a bad daughter who has no desire to see the hollow man my father’s become. “No.” I take a sip of the coffee. It will make my tremors worse, but the familiar bitter taste grounds me.
“What about you? You weren’t born and raised in that lab, were you?” My stomach knots thinking about his traumatic past.
“Almost. I was an in vitro experiment. I’m not sure how I was actually born. My birth certificate lists a human female as my mother, but it’s doubtful I’m a half-breed. I grew up in foster care until I hit puberty, which is when we first shift. Then, one day I was picked up from school and taken to the lab where I spent the next four years in testing.”
I fight back the tears welling in my eyes, crowding my throat. “And then what?” I force the words past my lips.
Sam’s eyes glow yellow, gaze unfocused. His fingers curl into fists.
Without thinking, I reach across the table and touch his arm. He’s shaking worse than I do without meds.
“Sam?” I stroke and squeeze his balled fingers. I’m calling him back to the present from wherever he’s disappeared to. “Sam.”
He blinks rapidly, focus returning to my face. After a moment, his grip softens and he lets me pry his fist open. His eyes change back to pale blue.
“What happens when you look like that, Sam? Are you having a flashback?”
Sam pulls his hand away as if I bit him. He rubs his forehead. “It’s… I don’t know. Not a flashback. My control slips.”
“The control that keeps you human?”
He nods once. “Yes.”
I want to walk around the table and wrap my arms around him. Sit in his lap and kiss his neck and make him stay with me. The urge to care for him is so strong it stuns me.
I haven’t made emotional connections to anyone since my mom died and my dad withdrew into himself. But things have been different with Sam from the beginning.
~.~
Sam
Layne picks up my hand and holds it to her face.
The metallic cacophony in my ears immediately recedes. My pounding heart slows. I draw in a deep breath. Then a shudder runs through me, as if touching Layne made my body reset.
“You make it better and worse at the same time,” I confess.
She arches a brow. “I do?”
“Yeah.” I give her a rueful smile. “Somehow you calm the beast inside me—except when I get turned on. Then all bets are off.”
“Tell me what happened. How did it end—the testing?”
The sound of grinding gears starts up again. I shake my head. “Not now.”
She looks like she’s going to argue, but the waitress shows up with our food. I wait to make sure she’s really going to eat before I shovel mine into my mouth. Shit. She’s so damn fragile—it kills me to think of her stressing her body through long years of study and research. She deserves to live—really live. A part of me wants to show her how—starting right now.
But hell, what do I know? My whole life has been focused on survival or revenge. I wouldn’t even know how to begin living or showing Layne anything more.
6
Layne
I gnaw my lip as Sam pulls up to a low-slung cottage in Chula Vista. I’ve decided that Sam has a super power other than the werewolf thing. He’s got some sort tractor beam-like intensity that sucks you in and doesn’t let go. Until you find yourself on the run, visiting random people in rundown housing in an attempt to take down an evil corporation that happened to be your former employer. How else can I explain the turn my life has taken in the past twenty-four hours?
“What are we doing here again?” I ask.
“I have someone looking over the data I stole to find a lead on Smyth. In the meantime, I’m gonna try to find Nash.”
“The lion shifter?”
“Yeah. He volunteered for the program. My gut tells me he might know more about the Data-X program. Maybe even how to get to Smyth.”
“And you think he’s here?” I eye the dilapidated cottage.
“No. But I think the guy who lives here knows where to find him.” Sam is out of the car and opening my door before I can protest. "Come on."
I follow him up the creaky steps. Before Sam can knock, the cottage door opens. A tall thin man with thick glasses that magnifies his eyes stands blinking at us.
“Mr. Lawrence?” Sam asks.
Impossibly, the man’
s eyes get even wider. “Wh-wh-who—” the man sputters, his head jerking to the side a few times.
“We need to come in,” Sam pushes inside. I go along, giving poor Mr. Lawrence a sympathetic smile as his eyebrows shoot up in alarm. I'm glad I'm not the only one affected by Sam's peculiar charisma.
We stop in the living room as our reluctant host closes the door. Inside the cottage is clean, uncluttered.
“Wh-who are you?” Adam's apple bobbing wildly, the man finishes his question.
“Look closer. You’ll remember.”
For a second, the thin man peers at Sam. Then he sucks in a breath and staggers back. Sam catches him, lowering him into a chair by the door. The man folds into it neatly, and sits, twitching even more violently than before.
“It’s okay,” I reassure. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
The twitching man blinks up at us. “S-s-s-am?”
“It’s me, Laurie,” Sam rasps. He pushes up his sleeve to show his scars. With a blur of moment, the man in the chair grabs Sam's forearm. Sam holds still, brow creased, eyes pained as Mr. Lawrence studies the scars beneath the tattoos.
"I thought you were dead," he says in awe.
Sam sinks onto the couch facing Lawrence and the door, and I follow suit.
"I almost died." Sam glances at me a moment before continuing. "I lost control to my animal. Lived in the wild for a while. But an alpha wolf found me. Stood on me until I managed to shift back."
Mr. Lawrence absorbs this, twitching almost constantly.
"Are you all right?" I ask. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine." The man waves away my concern. "I had a medical procedure a few years ago. There were... consequences."
"Wait," I look between him and Sam. "Is that how you two know each other? Were you in the experiments, too?"
"She knows?" Lawrence asks Sam. Alarm flares behind the glasses.
"She knows some. Not all. Not yet."
"Who is she?"
"She's with me."
"I'm Layne," I say.
"Oh forgive me, where are my manners? I'm Laurie."
"Laurie Lawrence?" I ask.
"That's correct. Excuse my rudeness," he goes on as if we hadn't barged into his house. "Would you like something to drink? Water, perhaps?"
"We're fine," Sam says at the same time I say, "Water would be lovely."
Sam raises an eyebrow at me as Laurie gets up and ambles out of the room.
"When someone offers you something in their home, it's polite to accept." One of my mom's little rules.
“I wouldn’t know,” Sam mutters and a spike of pain for him shoots through my chest. What kind of upbringing did he have? I have so many questions about him.
He rubs a hand up and down my back absently.
When Laurie comes back to hand me a glass of water, the tall man isn’t twitching as much.
Until Sam leans forward, an intent look on his face. "I need to find a shifter named Nash. He was also part of the experiments—after we escaped, though. Did you know him?"
"Nash? The lion? Are you s-s-sure?"
"Positive. He's the missing link."
"He showed up a couple months ago. I d-d-didn’t know he was part of this. He's..." Laurie shakes his head sharply. It looks like another nervous tic.
"I read his file. He was involved early. Laurie, he volunteered."
"You read his file?" Laurie launches out of his chair, pacing back and forth. "How?"
"Broke in to a Data-X lab yesterday and stole it."
"You..." Laurie's body twitches all over. He reminds me of a bird with his thick glasses magnifying his eyes, and his sharp movements. "The Utah complex. The fire. Was that you?"
"It was actually an explosion," Sam says. "And yeah. It was me."
Laurie sucks in a breath. I knot my hands together to keep them from shaking. Sam is the only one of us who doesn't look worried about admitting to domestic terrorism.
Our host paces back and forth, mumbling to himself.
"Laurie,” Sam comes to his feet. “Look at me.” The nervous guy does and Sam levels his gaze, turning on the tractor beam. “I’m not a threat to you, or him. I just need to speak to him."
"He won't like it."
"So you know where he is." Sam’s voice holds a note of triumph.
Laurie sighs, patting his pockets before touching his glasses as if to reassure himself they're still there. “I—”
Sam cuts him off with a sharp gesture, waving Laurie toward the corner.
“Wha—?” I start to rise and Sam puts his finger to his lips, heading to the door.
Then I hear it. Outside, someone’s walking up the steps. A pause, and I hold my breath.
The door slams open, the newcomer enters in a blur of speed, crashing into Sam, shouting, “You’ll never take us alive!”
“Stop,” Laurie cries. Sam rolls to his feet and snarls—a guttural sound that unhinges my spine. I start forward, but Laurie grabs and pulls me behind the couch.
Sam grapples with the newcomer, knocking over the chair and tussling on the floor.
“Think ya found fresh meat, do ya, wolfie?” Sam’s attacker shouts. “I’ll fecking gut ya.”
“Declan, stop.” Laurie runs out from behind the couch, waving his arms. “He’s a friend, a friend.” The tall man has to duck a piece of the chair that comes flying his way.
“Oh yeah?” The newcomer rolls to his feet, running his hand through his thick black hair. “He’s got a mean right hook, make no mistake.” His lips curl back in a manic grin, showing all his teeth.
Sam growls. He and the newcomer circle each other again.
“Ya wanna go, wolf boy?” the dark haired man says in an Irish brogue. “I’ll cut ya, don’t think I won’t—”
“Stop it. Both of you,” I shriek, and throw my plastic water glass. It misses them, bouncing on the soft floor and splashing water.
The Irishman stops and blinks at his wet shoes. “Who’s the bitch?”
Sam snarls again.
“She’s a guest.” Laurie rises, his hair and clothes rumpled and glasses askew.
“Oh, yeah? And what about the wolf?”
“A friend. They’re all friends, Declan.”
“Why didn’t ya fecking tell me, then?”
“I-I-I,” Laurie sputters.
“He did tell you,” I cry. “You just attacked.”
“Oh yeah.” Declan grins. “All’s well that ends well, right, mate?”
“Sure.” Sam’s brows are still down, his face guarded. He doesn’t take his eyes off the smiling Irishman.
“Okay, so we’re all friends, now,” I say firmly, going to Sam’s side. His body is tense but he doesn’t pull away when I take his arm.
“Right ya are. Always happy to be friends with a pretty lady.” Declan winks at me.
A low rumble in Sam’s chest makes me clutch him closer. “Sam, why don’t we sit down and keep talking about... what we were talking about. Laurie, can I get another water?”
The tall man obliges. Declan grabs an unbroken chair and straddles it, still grinning like a maniac. Sam remains stone-faced, pulling me with him to retake our seats.
Laurie hands me my water and I thank him.
“You been all right, Laurie?” Declan asks. “Saw the car and I was worried about ya.”
“I’m fine.” Laurie bobs his head a few times. I don’t miss the protective way Declan looks over his friend. And Laurie seems a lot calmer now.
“So whatcha talking about?”
“Just catching up,” Sam says. “I haven’t seen Laurie since—”
“The fecking hellhole,” Declan says cheerfully. “What’s wrong, wolf boy? Don’t ya recognize me?”
Sam frowns.
“A foul-mouthed Irishman shouldn’t be hard for ya to recall.”
“I was there a long time,” Sam looks away, his voice rough. “Don’t remember much, from the end…” I take his hand as he trails off, and he grips it. He stares off a
t nothing for a moment.
“Oh yeah,” Declan murmurs, glancing at Laurie.
“He’s looking for Nash.”
“Are ya now? What do ya want with the King of the Beasts?”
“I need him to find Smyth.”
“Good luck with that,” Declan leans back in the chair, balancing it on two legs. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. About anything. Showed up two, three months ago. Best fighter in the Pit. Mean one. Wild.”
“Sam stole footage from Data-X,” Laurie explains.
“Did ya now?” The crazy Irishman raises a brow.
“The files said that Nash volunteered. And there’s a photo of him and Smyth in military uniform shaking hands. He’ll know if there’s a government connection and he might know how to find Smyth. I’m this close to being able to track him. I need more clues.”
“Nash won’t help ya. He’s broken, like all of us.”
Guilt tightens my gut. I saw Sam’s nightmares. I know his suffering is real and ever-present. How can I worship my research so much when it came at such horrible cost? Does the fact that I want to use it to save lives cancel out the lives destroyed to get it?
“I know what happened to him,” Sam says softly, but Declan doesn’t seem to hear.
“Only thing keeping Nash alive is his lion, and he won’t let it out. It’s sick. Won’t stop fighting, friend or foe. The Pit is perfect for him.”
“What’s the Pit?” I ask.
“Shifter cage fighting. No animals.”
“What animals?” I can’t stop myself from blurting. What other kinds of shifters are there?
Declan and Laurie’s eyes fix on me.
Sam clears his throat. “Layne’s just learned about… our kind.”
“Then how’d ya come to be here, then?”
“She worked at Data-X,” Sam says mildly. “I kidnapped her.”
“What?” Declan leaps to his feet, chair clattering to the ground. Instantly, Sam is in front of me, stance protective.
“What are ya thinking, wolf? Ya brought one of them to us?” Declan shouts, eyes wild.
“Calm down,” Sam orders. “She’s not one of them. They tried to kill her. She’s with me.”
“I didn’t know what was going on. I would never hurt anyone,” I add.
