Savage Betrayal: Savage, Book 2

by Shelli Stevens

  Vodka and salt burned on her tongue and she savored the taste. Savored the news of Thom’s death again.

  Yes. A celebration was most definitely in order.

  She leaned back against the couch, shifting to force the silk of her robes to part and reveal a hint of cleavage.

  “Why don’t you sit, Andy?”

  Though his cheeks hinted at color, he didn’t hesitate, but moved immediately to the couch beside her.

  “I know you’re off in an hour, correct?”

  “Technically, yes. But I have no plans.”

  “Hmm.” She reached out to toy with a button on his black, pressed shirt. “Would you like to help me with my plans?”

  “Anything you wish, ma’am.” His gaze darkened, and she could practically hear his heart quicken with anticipation and lust.

  Oh, there was no doubt that he could charm himself into any girl’s panties. But there was the difference; she was not a giddy, impulsive college girl. She was a grown woman.

  She wasn’t foolish. She was quite aware of her aging looks. Her skin not as supple as it once was; her beauty had faded. But she was still beautiful—could still bring a man to his knees.

  And she would enjoy bringing this one to his.

  “I thought I told you to call me Jocelyn.” She unfastened the silk belt at her waist and the robe slid from her shoulders, leaving her naked.

  “Jocelyn.” Hunger flashed in his eyes and she allowed a small smile. She caught his hand and dragged it to her breast, reveling in the strangled groan he made.

  “By the way, I should mention my plans include coming at least five times before dinner.”

  Soon she wouldn’t be thinking about those damn shifters—she wouldn’t be thinking at all. She’d be deep in an oasis of passion where she could forget.

  At least for the next two hours.

  Grace cradled her tumbler of Early Grey tea between her hands and glanced out the doorway to the agency, where the members of her team were gathering to head out on their assignment.

  Her nerves were still riled after the debriefing yesterday down at the Seattle agency. But they’d give her the thumbs-up to come back and so here she was. And any minute she’d be going out with her team.

  It felt weird to be back. Weird, but good. She breathed in the familiar smell of coffee and disinfectant that couldn’t quite hide the mustiness of the old government building.

  Her cubicle offered a bit of seclusion and comfort, but most important, a familiarity. It was where she did the paperwork, spent her downtime when she wasn’t out in the field. Sitting behind her desk used to be the worst part of her job, but now she almost looked forward to it.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  She glanced up as Larson’s head appeared over the edge of her cubicle wall. His question was light enough, but there was concern is his dark eyes.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Larson stared at her, his gaze intense as he obviously tried to read her. She resisted the urge to squirm—to flinch—and met his gaze steadily.

  Finally he nodded. “All right then. Good to have you back, Masterson.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to be back.” Though that had yet to be decided. “So anything on the schedule for today?”

  “I’m sending Hilliard and Yorioka, who you haven’t met yet, out to interview Thom Wilson’s family this morning. You, Donovan and I will be investigating a murder of a female human—it’s looking as if the perp might be a shifter. So we’re opening our own case quietly in addition to human law enforcement.”

  A murder case? Any other time she’d be all over this, but not today. She needed to get placed on that Wilson assignment.

  “Could I…” Grace tightened her hands around her tea. “With all due respect, sir, I’d rather go with Hilliard.”

  “Is that so?”

  His tone still held that soft drawl, but the thread of steel indicated he didn’t quite approve of her request.

  Crap, and she really needed to be careful being it was her first day back at work. But she needed to be involved with that case—needed to talk to Thom’s family.

  “I would prefer it, yes.”

  Larson eyes narrowed on her. “You’re emotionally connected to that case, Masterson. Which is the reason I didn’t put you on it. It would be a conflict of interest.”

  “I realize that.” She bit her lip. There was no turning back now. “I won’t let my emotions rule my judgment. You know I’m a better agent than that.”

  The silence that ensued screamed a thousand words. Oh yes, maybe once Larson had thought she was a better agent than that.

  “Please, sir.” Despite her intent, she heard the faint note of desperation in her voice.

  He was going to say no. She could see the denial in his eyes, but then his jaw hardened and he gave a terse nod.

  “I know the answer I should say.” He paused. “But the truth is, Thom’s family has been asking to speak to you.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. “Seriously?”

  “Fuck.” He shook his head and slapped her cubicle wall. “Don’t make me regret this, Masterson. Get your shit in order and be ready to leave with Hilliard and Yorioka in a few minutes.” He turned to walk back down the hallway, calling out, “And if I even suspect you’re out of line, I’ll pull your ass off this case before you can blink.”

  “Understood.” Elation soared through her as she gathered her belongings.

  Had Larson really just given her the go ahead to investigate Thom’s death? Her heart quickened and she stumbled in her brisk stride as she followed her team leader outside to the government vehicles.

  She’d work well with Hilliard—they complemented each other like oil and vinegar. And whoever this new agent was, this Yorioka guy, well, she was sure they’d do fine together too.

  Grace followed Larson out the glass double doors of the agency and pulled her black sunglasses from her bag. Her hands were so unsteady the glasses fell from her hand as if greased and hit the pavement with a clatter.

  She’d just bent to pick them up when Donovan’s voice rang out across the parking lot.

  “Well hell. I heard it was true, but I didn’t believe you were actually coming back.”

  Grace straightened and slid her sunglasses on, grateful for the small barrier against them being able to read eyes for emotion.

  Donovan closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms for a quick, hard hug.

  “Damn good to have you back, girl.”

  Her heart swelled a bit and her throat tightened. These men were so much more to her than just coworkers.

  She forced herself to keep her tone light as she murmured, “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

  She slid her gaze over to Hilliard, who leaned against one of the agency-issued vans. His arms were folded over his chest in a way that defined the muscles in his arms and shoulders. And for some stupid reason her pulse stuttered as his gaze slid over her.

  Was it her imagination, or had his gaze lingered a bit longer on her breasts?

  Grace resisted the urge to tug the edges of her suit jacket closer together. For some reason lately he made her ultra aware of femininity, and she felt all too soft, emotionally and physically. It was a sharp reminder that she was the only female on the team and how much she tried not to fall into the stereotypes trap.

  “Good to have you back,” Hilliard finally murmured, quirking an eyebrow.

  Grace dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve met the agent who replaced Rafferty,” Donovan said.

  “No, I haven’t.” Some of the blood left her head, and the world around her wavered.

  Rafferty. She hadn’t thought about him too much. Deliberately. He’d been the double agent who’d been up to his elbows in dirt with the Shifter Elimination Project. He’d been aware what was being done to her—the hell she’d been living through. His desire for money had outweighed his loyalty
to his species, and in the end it had cost him his life.

  “Masterson, let me introduce you to Agent Chris Yorioka.”

  The agent who stepped from the shadows was so slight she hadn’t even seen him standing there.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Grace said quietly and accepted the hand the other agent held out to shake.

  The daintiness of the hand that gripped hers had Grace’s gaze darting back to the other agent’s face for a closer look.

  Framed in a round, flawless and obviously female face, dark eyes watched her with polite tolerance.

  Larson gave Grace a light slap on the back, and grinned. “That’s right. We’ve got another woman on the team.”

  Chapter Five

  Another woman.

  How rash of her to assume Chris had been a man’s name. Chris was likely a nickname for Christine or Kristin. She’d missed the femininity of the agent with the way her sleek black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

  Grace struggled for words—tried to get out the appropriate greeting—but just gave small grunt as she shook the woman’s hand.

  Another female on the team. She’d spent so long earning her place, proving she could work as hard as a man that it had never occurred to her another female would take on those other struggles beside her.

  “Well, it’s about time to head out, right?” Agent Yorioka pulled her hand away and turned her back on Grace, but not before she’d seen the flicker of disgust in her eyes.

  So even though they were only just acquainted, the other agent didn’t care for her. Though it stung, Grace couldn’t blame her. Surely Yorioka had been briefed on her background, the circumstances of why she was on leave.

  Really, she was surprised the other men on her team weren’t watching her with wariness or disgust too. She’d expected it and tried to prepare for it. But there wasn’t even a hint of unease from them.

  Her stomach clenched. They gave her more credit than she deserved.

  “We’re going to head out to the murder scene.” Larson shot her another warning glance over the top of their tinted-window car. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

  She held on to that warning the entire drive to Thom’s house.

  They pulled up in front of a split-level, dark brown house about fifteen minutes later. The curtains were drawn and there was a beige sedan in the driveway.

  A chill raced down Grace’s spine as she glanced at it. Was it the vehicle Thom had taken his life in? Most likely not. It would’ve been taken away as evidence yesterday.

  Thom’s family, being shapeshifter, would’ve called the emergency P.I.A. line to report his death. It was the number all shifters were given to call in case of an emergency, because calling 911 would invite too many questions and chaos. It upped the potential for a memory wipe of the human, should they learn too much.

  Most humans weren’t even aware of the existence of wolf shifters—the only exception being some members of the federal government and the occasional human recruited to work for the P.I.A.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Hilliard’s soft question was meant for her ears only, but it was pointless being that the three of them had heightened senses anyway. Agent Yorioka would’ve easily heard the question from the backseat, even over the Beyoncé song playing.

  The realization and question itself pricked irritation through her.

  “Of course I’m up for this. If I wasn’t I would never have come back to the agency. Let alone begged to come with you to see Thom’s family.”

  Surprise, and something else—amusement?—flickered in Hilliard’s eyes. “Begged to come with me, huh? So you’re saying I’m the reason you came here today?”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was momentarily distracted by the slight quirk of Hilliard’s full mouth. Did he really think she’d come out here today for him? That would be ridiculous. Thom had been her motivation. One hundred percent, all the way.

  And yet her breath caught, because she couldn’t deny a tiny part of her relaxed at the comfort of being with Hilliard. There was an ease and familiarity that was unmatched with the other guys. He would make her first day back much easier.

  Still, like his ego needed any further inflation.

  “Charming guess, but no, Hilliard.” She flashed a hard smile, one hand on the handle of the car as she readied herself to climb out. “This is another day at work for me, so don’t for one moment think you had anything to do with my motivation.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, really?” Yorioka gave an irritated sigh from the backseat. “As charming as this passive-aggressive flirting is, I’ve got a job to do. See you both inside.”

  The other agent slipped out of the car before her or Hilliard could reply. Grace could feel the color stealing into her face. Jesus, what was wrong with her? She’d just made herself look ridiculous, and once again, completely unprofessional. Why was she allowing Hilliard to get under her skin so easily today?

  She tugged on the door handle. “I’m going in too.”

  “Hang on.” Hilliard reached beyond her to tug it closed again. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I mean for yesterday. For scaring the shit out of you and forcing you to face some things you may not have been ready to deal with yet.” He hesitated and looked away. “I sure as hell didn’t want to get you in over your head back here if you’re not ready.”

  “It’s okay. Seriously, I’m ready.” She paused. “I’ve been ready. You just gave me the push I needed. I missed you guys—missed the team.”

  Her gaze slid to Yorioka who now knocked on the front door of Thom’s house. Though part of the team, the new girl seemed to have already written her off.

  “Don’t worry about Agent Yorioka.” Hilliard must’ve sensed her thoughts. “She’ll warm up to you.”

  Not likely. The other female agent’s mind seemed to have been made up. She didn’t have the energy to point that out, and just murmured, “We should go inside too.”

  “Yeah we should.”

  Grace had reached to open the door again when Hilliard suddenly caught her other hand in his and squeezed lightly.

  “You say the word if it gets too much, and I’ll get you out of there, you hear?”

  She cast him a quick look, trying to ignore the undercurrent of warmth that seemed to race between where his hand held hers.

  Why did he care so much? Why was he trying to take responsibility for her?

  “There’s no shame in it, Masterson. So promise me you’ll let me know.”

  He could read her so well. She knew there was the potential to fall apart inside that house—she’d be speaking with Thom’s widow.

  But she’d hold herself together in front of them, dammit, even if she had to have a silent meltdown in the bathroom for a few minutes.

  “I promise.”

  “Good.” Hilliard pushed open the door for her and winked. “But for the record, I think you’ll do great. Now get your ass in there.”

  The heaviness on her heart lifted a bit knowing he had her back and that he’d given her an out—even if they both knew she’d never take it.

  Together they walked up to the house and entered the open door, following the sound of voices and soft weeping.

  The smell of flowers was overpowering, and the first thing she saw was endless arrangements along the banister and in the kitchen. This family, Thom, was well loved.

  They entered the living room and Grace stumbled, almost physically forced backward by the wall of pain and grief radiating from the woman sitting on the couch.

  Thom’s widow. It had to be. The slender woman, probably in her early fifties, sat hunched over on a floral coach. She had her brown hair held in a sloppy bun on her head, her fists were pressed against her mouth, her face blotchy, and her eyes were swollen and red. She looked like a woman gripped by the hellish talons of grief.

  Immediately aware of Hilliard and Grace’s pre
sence, the woman’s gaze leapt from the shag carpet and up to them. She barely looked at Hilliard before her now rounded gaze locked on Grace.

  “Mrs. Wilson, this is Agent Hilliard and Agent Masterson,” Yorioka began in a gentle tone, shooting them a warning glance. “We hope our visit won’t upset you, but it’s imperative that we speak with you again and collect evidence.”

  “You’re her.” Mrs. Wilson didn’t seem to acknowledge Yorioka’s statement, but stared at Grace as she spoke.

  Ice swept through Grace’s blood, as well as a numbness that she was nearly used to by now. Did this woman blame her? Hate her on sight? She couldn’t fault her for either and braced for it.

  “You’re the female agent who was held with my Thom.” The widow rose unsteadily to her feet and moved toward Grace.

  Grace braced herself, ready for anything. Biting words. A slap across the face that Grace wouldn’t stop.

  Mrs. Wilson’s face distorted. From misery, to frustration, and then to pain. When she lifted her arms, it took everything within Grace not to flinch. Instead she waited, sensing the sudden tension in Hilliard and knowing he’d step in to protect her if needed.

  Don’t, she warned silently, knowing he couldn’t hear her, but hoping he’d sense her wishes.

  But when the older woman closed the distance between them, it wasn’t to hit her, but to wrap her arms around Grace. To pull her into a comforting hug that stunned her to the core.

  “I am so very sorry for what you have gone through, my dear.”

  This woman, who’d just lost her husband, was comforting Grace. Why? Hilliard’s gaze collided with Grace’s and she could see the gesture had surprised him too.

  “Thom spoke of you often. You were such a rock to him during the ordeal. And you’re so very young yourself…” Mrs. Wilson broke off and squeezed her harder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Tears burned behind Grace’s eyes and a lump formed in her throat. Without realizing what she was doing, Grace closed her arms around the woman and returned her embrace.

  “I am so sorry, Mrs. Wilson.” Her words weren’t quite steady, but it didn’t seem to matter now. “I can’t tell you how sad I was to hear of Thom’s death.”