Three to Get Ready

by Ivy, Alexandra

  Nael shook his head. He’d been secretly shadowing the members of congress in Benson’s pocket for the past few years. It was vitally important that they keep an eye on the human lawmakers. Especially now that the Pantera were once again “outed” to the general public.

  Which meant he knew exactly what happened in the sewers of power.

  “Benson doesn’t need to travel,” he assured his boss and friend. “He can snap his fingers and politicians scurry like a pack of trained dogs to kneel at his feet.”

  Raph curled his lip. “Very graphic.”

  Nael shrugged. “Unfortunately true.”

  “I still don’t know what this has to do with the task I’ve given you.”

  Nael hesitated. He wasn’t stupid enough to lie. At least not to Raph. But, he was anxious to follow his hunch to travel to D.C. His instincts had never let him down.

  “I’m not sure there is a connection,” he conceded. “But until we have a concrete lead, I think I should check it out. Benson has been busy trying to eliminate the assets, it’s possible he’s in town to clean up yet another loose end.”

  “D.C. is a large city. Even if Benson is there because of an asset how are you going to find them?”

  “I’ll start by tracing Benson’s footsteps.”

  Raph looked unimpressed. Not surprising. It wasn’t really a magnificent plan. Hell, it wasn’t even a decent plan. More of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants, hope-he-stumbled-across-a-clue kind of thing. But he had to get out of New Orleans. Breathe some different air.

  “Pretty sketchy,” Raph drawled.

  Nael drummed his fingers on the top of the table. “What else have we got? You already sent Z to follow our lead in California. While I’m in D.C., I’ll continue to try and figure out the potential names or places in the message you intercepted. But I can’t remain here any longer.”

  Raph’s lips flattened, as he clearly couldn’t come up with a reason to forbid Nael from returning to the human capitol.

  “Fine.” He leaned forward, his eyes glowing with the power of his cat. “But you’re there to find out whether or not there is an asset in D.C., not to kill Benson.”

  “If he happens to cross my path—”

  Raph slammed his hand on the top of the table, upsetting one of the empty bottles. “I have plans for Benson. You interfere in those and I’m not going to be happy.” He held Nael’s gaze. “Got it?”

  Nael abruptly rose to his feet. “Got it,” he said tightly.

  There was more than one reason he didn’t spend extra time in the Wildlands to appease his puma. He didn’t like taking orders.

  From anyone.

  With his inner-puma growling in frustration, he headed toward the door. Behind him, he heard Raph heaving a weary sigh. “Shit.

  Chapter Two

  Washington, D.C.

  Looking like nothing more than a highly trained bike courier, Miranda Arnaz followed the black limo as it bullied its way through the thick traffic that clogged DuPont Circle. Even as it headed toward the northwest residential area, it was easy for her to keep pace.

  Fierce desire always did that to her.

  The Spring D.C. day was an overcast one, the brake lights in front of her clicking on and off like little shocks of warning. But she grinned at them. Nothing would deter her. And when the gleaming vehicle turned off the main road and pulled through a pair of towering iron gates that slid silently closed as the car disappeared up a long driveway, that grin turned into a full-fledged smile.

  Gotcha.

  After stashing her bike behind a tall hedge on the neighboring property, she did a quick circle of the monstrosity of a fence that formed a protective barrier around the sprawling mansion she’d glimpsed before the gates had blocked her view.

  Now, as she stood beneath a blooming cherry tree, she considered her options.

  Logic, something of which she was very fond, might urge her to wait for the cover of night to strike. But the fury beating in her heart demanded that she move immediately. After all, she’d spent months trying to track down Christopher Benson.

  Now that she finally had him cornered…

  Inching her way forward, she easily leaped up to grasp the top of the eight-foot brick fence. She no longer marveled at her super-strength. She might look the same. Long dark hair, near black eyes, and golden skin. But her lushly curved body, which was currently encased in jeans and a leather bomber coat, now possessed the powers of Wonder Woman.

  Minus the Lasso of Truth.

  Peering over the edge, she studied the house. It was typical for this area of D.C. Georgian colonial in style, it had a long front veranda with fluted white columns. The house itself was constructed of pale brick, with a dozen windows running along the front and black shutters bracketing them, plus three dormer windows that peaked from the roofline.

  It looked like it could comfortably fit a small army, and that wasn’t even taking into account the ten-car garage and the two smaller homes that were positioned at the back of the manicured garden.

  She turned her attention to the security that protected the mansion. She could easily spot the cameras that were spread around the estate. All of them were aimed toward the front gate or the house. It looked like no one thought the fence could be breeched.

  Perfect.

  Her gaze moved toward the lone uniformed guard who strolled around the outside of the house. He was holding a large gun and had a heavy build that was loaded down with various tools of the trade, but even at a distance she could tell he was bored.

  Or maybe he was constipated.

  Either way, he was clearly just putting in his time.

  Waiting until the man turned the corner and disappeared from view, Miranda tightened her muscles, preparing to swing her leg up and over the top of the fence.

  But at that precise moment, something captured her ankles in a ruthless grip. Then, before she could prepare herself, she was jerked off the wall.

  Her brain instantly snapped to attention as she landed with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. At first she thought she must have hit a steel wall. What else could be so shockingly hard? But then a pair of heavily muscled arms wrapped around her, and she quickly realized she was being held by a man.

  Her lips parted even as a hand slammed over them, halting her scream. At the same time, she was carried away from the fence and into a thick line of trees at the back of the estate.

  Squirming, fighting in fierce terror, Miranda managed to get in a kick that made the stranger curse. Yeah, take that, you fucker! But the man was ruthless and strong as hell. Tightening his grip until it was difficult for her to breathe, he bent his head to speak directly into her ear.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t stop struggling,” he whispered in harsh tones. “Nod if you understand.”

  His grip was like a goddamn vise. How the hell…

  Gritting her teeth, pushing back her fear, she continued to struggle, desperate to break free, even to just turn in his arms and ram her knee into his groin. But it was impossible. And after a minute, she decided to play it a different way—dead tired and admitting defeat.

  Forcing herself to relax her muscles and clear her mind, she gave a slow nod. Yes, I’m a docile, shy little thing. Not!

  A few seconds passed before he released the arm that was wrapped around her upper body. And another few before he removed the hand that was covering her mouth.

  Fool.

  Clearly this piece of shit hadn’t gotten the memo about her Wonder Woman status.

  Instantly, Miranda growled, spinning around and lunging at him with a snap of her teeth. Instead of tasting blood, however, she got nothing but air. Bastard! Although the surprising action did make the stranger jerk back with a curse.

  “Shit, female!” he snarled. “You nearly took off a finger.”

  She crouched low, ready to fight. “Ever grab me like that again, asshole, and your finger will be the least of your worries.”

&
nbsp; Her gaze quickly moved over him, taking in the details of the creep who’d had the audacity to attack her.

  Only he wasn’t a creep.

  He was…spectacular.

  And not human.

  As a cool wind kicked up around her, she sucked in a shocked breath, absorbing the rich musk of his cat. Well, the cat below the surface of his tanned skin.

  Her eyes locked with his. Beneath the dark brows were gorgeous, rich blue orbs. But it wasn’t the color of his eyes that captured her attention. It was the compelling intelligence and savage inner fire that smoldered there.

  Oh my…

  This man knew what he wanted. How to get it. And wasn’t afraid to break bones or hearts in the process.

  Heat surged into her, little sparks of fire shooting into the tips of her fingers and toes, while the rest of her just…melted. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. It was like he was the sun and she’d lived her entire life in the dark, and the cold, and all she wanted, craved, was his heat, blazing over every inch of her skin. And his mouth crushing—

  Stop! She swallowed thickly. What the hell’s wrong with me?

  Shaking off her bizarre and overwhelming reaction, Miranda stiffened her spine. This was craziness. She needed to get her shit together. She should be feeling nothing but shame for finding this guy…blisteringly hot?

  Jesus.

  She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. More than likely this creature worked for Benson. Exterior security probably. Why else would he have yanked her off the fence? Forced her back into the trees? Unless, of course, he was a pervert. Either way, he was clearly her enemy.

  Seeming equally annoyed with the awareness that sizzled between them, the man sent her a scowl.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “None of your business,” she responded, managing three steps backward before he reached out to grasp her arm.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he growled softly, catching her.

  Why the hell had she stood there, ogling and cataloging her physical reactions to this guy, when she should’ve run? She tugged at his iron grip, snarled back at him—even though she knew it was futile.

  Amazing. And disheartening. For the first time since escaping the lab, she’d encountered a man who could overpower her.

  Now what?

  “Let go of my arm,” she said in a dark, fierce tone. “And maybe I won’t draw blood.”

  “I asked you a question, female.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t give my name to depraved douchebags who grab women off the street.”

  His brow lifted slightly. “Douchebags?”

  So depraved was fine, but don’t call him a D-bag. Got it.

  The pressure on her arm eased slightly, but he didn’t release her. A not-so-subtle warning.

  “And I didn’t grab you off the street,” he drawled, dropping his head until they were nose to nose. His blue eyes flared with a golden fire, offering her a glimpse of his puma. “You were trying to climb over the privacy fence. Something the cops around here would probably consider a crime.”

  Despite the near breathless case of attraction she was dealing with in that moment, she refused to be intimidated. Or at least let him see that she was.

  “You’re no cop,” she uttered tersely.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  She sniffed, her mouth tilting up at the corners. “Because you’re a Pantera.”

  He flinched, caught off guard by the fact that she’d recognized he was a shifter. Then his features hardened. “So are you.”

  “Nope,” she instantly denied. “I was given the blood from an animal, but I’m still human.”

  The sudden scent of musk permeated the air, tickling her nostrils and brushing over her skin like a living force.

  “Is that supposed to be an insult?” He curled back his lips, displaying his pearly-white teeth. “I have a lot more respect for most animals than humans.”

  “Good for you.” She gave another tug of her arm. “Now let me go.”

  “I’m giving you one last chance,” he growled. “Who are you?”

  She stubbornly shook her head. She wasn’t about to tell him the truth. Hell, she wasn’t telling him anything. She was still hoping to bluster her way out of this. Something that would be impossible if Benson discovered his trespasser was Miranda Arnaz.

  Her own lips curled this time. “Go to hell.”

  A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. “Ah. We do it the hard way.”

  “What?” The word had barely left her lips when he was wrapping his arms around her and scooping her off her feet. She gasped, reaching up to slam her fist against his chest as he carried her through the trees to a small shed next to a narrow access road. He didn’t hesitate as he smashed the lock with one easy swipe of his fist, entered the cramped space, then pulled the door shut behind him.

  “Are you out of your mind?” she rasped, her pulse racing with both anger and fear.

  “I’m beginning to wonder,” he muttered.

  She cast a quick glance around, assessing, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. Yet another handy-dandy yet unwanted gift from her imprisonment in the lab. It looked like an abandoned utility shed with rusting stacks of steel cables and old meters.

  “If you’re confused, let me straighten you out,” she offered in overly sweet tones, though her mind was alive with exit strategies. “You’re completely mental.”

  He shrugged. “We should have some privacy here.”

  She licked her lips as fear snaked down her spine. She’d been so certain that her greatest concern was alerting Benson to her presence, she hadn’t considered that a stranger might pose more than one sort of danger.

  “Look,” she began coldly. “I have a partner waiting just down the street. If I don’t return in a couple of minutes, then he’s going to come looking for me.”

  His nose flared. Could he scent her barely concealed flare of panic? Her lies?

  “Just relax.” He held up a slender hand, his eyes glowing in the shadows. “I have no intention of hurting you.”

  “So said every serial killer to his victim,” she breathed.

  She hated when men told her to relax. That usually preceded a needle in her arm and another transfusion.

  She inched her way backward, pressing herself against the wall. At the same time, she reached into her pocket, curling her fingers around the hilt of the knife she carried.

  He took a step toward her, then came to a sharp halt. “Christ, you’re a pain in the ass.”

  She blinked at the accusation. “Me?”

  “Just tell me your name.” His voice remained hard, but his features softened.

  Her gaze darted toward the door before she forced herself to answer. She had to play for time. And if this guy was working for Benson, she’d know it.

  “Miranda Arnaz.”

  He nodded, but there was no indication that he recognized her name. “Where are you from?”

  “Miami.”

  He arched a brow. “You’re a long way from home.”

  Home. A swift shadow of anger blanketed her. Because of Benson, she had no home—or family anymore. She took a slow, deep breath, tensing her legs as she prepared to make a run for it.

  “I’m not the only one far from home,” she said pointedly.

  He studied her with an unnerving intensity. “You know about the Wildlands?”

  She shrugged, not about to admit where she’d learned about the puma-shifters’ magical lands. “It’s not much of a secret anymore.”

  He paused, as if testing her words. Then he gave a slow nod. “I suppose that’s true.” He took another step toward her. “Now the big question. Why are you here?”

  It was now or never.

  “I’m here to kill Christopher Benson,” she announced in clear, crisp tones, yanking the knife from the pocket of her jacket. “And anyone who gets in my way.”

  Swinging the weapon toward her captor’s face, she waited for hi
m to instinctively jump backward. It was all the space she needed.

  She lowered her head as she called on the unnatural power that flowed through her blood and bolted toward the door.

  Chapter Three

  Nael had always been impulsive. He considered it an advantage in his job as a ghost. How could an enemy outmaneuver him when they never knew where he was going to be or what he might be plotting?

  But he’d never met anyone capable of being equally unpredictable.

  People, especially humans, were tediously boring. Even when they were trying to trick him. But he had to admit that he hadn’t been expecting Miranda to try to stab him in the eye with a knife.

  Unfortunately, the knowledge that she was there to try to kill Christopher Benson proved one thing. This female wasn’t the asset he was hoping Benson was visiting. They were looking for a current hostage, not one of the hundreds, perhaps even thousands of victims who’d already escaped and were hoping for a taste of bloody revenge.

  Curiosity was added to the addictive tingle of awareness that was bubbling through him, but Nael didn’t have the time to consider his weird-ass reaction to this female. Instead he was leaping forward, careful to snatch the knife from the woman’s hand before wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling her hard against his chest.

  “Hold on, sweetheart,” he muttered as she squirmed in his grasp, her panic lacing the air with an acrid scent.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said between clenched teeth.

  He tossed the knife to the ground, grabbing her by the shoulders so he could turn her to face him.

  “Calm down,” he commanded.

  Her eyes flashed with fury, and Nael swallowed a sigh. He’d just said the one thing guaranteed to piss off a woman. Wasn’t he supposed to be a skilled diplomat?

  She glared at him, but her defiance couldn’t disguise the fear that trembled just below the surface.

  “I’m not going to stop,” she warned. “I will kill him.”

  Nael hissed.

  “Unless you kill me first.”

  Her dark promise hit him with stunning force. The mere thought that something or someone could harm this woman horrified him on a primal level. A level he didn’t fully understand. And the suggestion that he’d be the one to do it? Well, that made every inch of his flesh crawl.