Sentinel: Bravo Bear: (A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (The Agency Book 1)

by Amelia Jade

  She hadn’t recoiled from him. Then again, she hadn’t melted into him either. Perhaps—

  No. You have a job to do. Accomplish that. Then you can daydream.

  His mind was right; he had to ensure her safety before he could even begin to contemplate the crazy idea that was taking shape in his head.

  Connor’s eyes snapped open, the pleasant glow vanishing as his eyelids narrowed, allowing him to focus on the street ahead and survey it for any Agents. Beneath him his legs began to work, slowly at first, but then churning along as he picked up speed, racing down the sidewalk.

  The houses gave way to the shops, and he approached the intersection. Like half an hour earlier, the SUV was still there. The same Agent was still leaning against it, though now he was looking across the street at Myles’s shop. Connor glanced over and saw another Agent emerging from within, food in hand.

  At least they had good taste. Maybe there was some humanity in them after all.

  Connor immediately shut that idea down. The last thing he wanted to do was humanize his enemy. That would only work to their advantage, not his. For him to do his job properly, to protect Madd—Madison—he had to think of them simply as a faceless enemy. No names. No identities. Just targets to be eliminated with extreme prejudice.

  Sunlight faded suddenly as a thick cloud blew through the sky, obscuring it from view. The Agents looked up at the sky. Connor used that momentary distraction to his benefit. With a burst of speed he came alongside the Agent leaning over the car.

  “Hey!” he yelled in his ear.

  The Agent jumped.

  Connor grabbed his head mid-air and slammed it down, impacting it into the side of the vehicle, leaving a dent, as well as a chunk of skin with hair still attached to it. He let the Agent fall to the ground as others screamed.

  Either now or never, Madison, he thought as the shifter across the street shouted.

  Connor took off running down the sidewalk some more. The building ended, and a parking lot for the area was next. To his surprise, a sleek four-door sedan shot from the parking lot in response to the action, tires peeling as took off down the road in the direction of the safe house.

  Behind it, a big black cargo van with the windows blotted out followed. This one screeched to a halt, however, blocking Connor’s progress. He slowed and ran around it, hearing the door open as he did.

  To his surprise, both doors were opening. From the far side a tall figure emerged, stepping into his pathway. Connor lowered his shoulder and prepared to send the blocker flying. Something was off about the man in front of him. As the distance closed he tried to figure out what it was.

  At the last second he got it. The man wasn’t afraid. He was simply standing there. He wanted Connor to hit him! With this new knowledge in mind, Connor dropped to a crouch, just as the man’s elbow whipped up and through the space his head had occupied a moment earlier.

  Shoulder met stomach and the pair of them went down. Mostly. The other man grunted and fell backward, while Connor whoofed in both shock and pain as his bones reverberated from the impact.

  What the fuck is this guy? The hit had been worse than the time he had tackled a steel pole painted to look like wood by one of his prankster friends. Connor’s shoulder went numb and his right arm hung uselessly at his side as he rolled away from his attacker.

  The other man, clearly some sort of new Extremis Agent that he had yet to encounter, slowly rose to his feet and came after Connor.

  With a snarl the shifter launched a left hook at the man.

  He caught it.

  Connor’s jaw dropped in surprise.

  “That’s not possible,” he gasped. The blow had sent the man back a step as he absorbed the force of it, and it had bent his arm backward until his fist almost touched his face, but he had blocked it!

  The man’s right hand snapped out and impacted perfectly along Connor’s temple. The shifter went down, the world spinning from the blow. The man hit harder than any bear shifter Connor knew. And he had been hit by some of the best in the business.

  He’s not even a full-blown shifter…

  Clearly the Agency had found some way to improve their serum. That had to be the answer.

  A chill shot through his body, even as he tried to recover his wits.

  Had the Agency gotten their hands on an Alpha?

  Sunlight reemerged as the clouds dissipated in the sky, only to be blocked out by shadow once more as the Extremis Agent loomed over him. He pulled back a fist and hit Connor again.

  Connor was tough. He had been hit by shifters stronger than he on any number of occasions. It was part of his training. He had even sparred with a gryphon shifter, one of the more powerful shifter races, a time or two. While the Agent didn’t hit quite that hard, it was damn close.

  He didn’t black out, but he was in no shape to resist either. His head lolled from side to side as the Agent picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder like a ragdoll, and walked back to the van, where he threw Connor inside rather unceremoniously. The inside was empty, and Connor slid across the floor until his head impacted on the metal bump over the wheel well.

  Ringing burst through his skull from the blow.

  “Ow,” he moaned, blinking rapidly, trying to shunt the pain aside.

  “Quiet,” a voice rasped.

  He forced his eyes shut for several seconds to try and stop the spinning, then opened them, focusing on the source of the voice.

  A metal panel separated the rear of the van from the driver. Along the panel a welded metal bench sat elevated off the floor, upon which sat an Agent. The Extremis Agent climbed inside, pulling the door shut. He kicked Connor hard in the side, then moved around behind him.

  Connor started to get up, and received an elbow to the side of his head as payment. He fell back against the cool, dark metal of the floor, reeling from the blow. This was not going at all the way he intended.

  Then again, the intervention of some sort of Extremis super-Agent hadn’t been on anyone’s radar. He frowned mentally at that, content to just lie on the floor for the moment. Neither of the two men in the back seemed inclined to do anything as long as he stayed still. In fact, his covert glances showed him that neither of them had tranq guns either. That was good, if he could find a way to beat the Agent.

  Connor had always relied on strength to overpower his enemies, and a combination of strength and training when simple power didn’t work. It was scary to realize his biggest advantage had just been neutralized.

  “What are you feeding him?” he asked the man sitting on the bench, pointing over his shoulder at the Agent.

  Neither replied, but he saw the man—who he was now confident was not an Extremis Agent—roll his eyes.

  “Take off your mask,” the man commanded instead.

  Connor made no move to comply.

  With a sigh the man gestured, and before Connor could do anything the Agent casually grabbed the mask and ripped it from his face, material tearing as it parted around the back of his skull. By ripping it from him and not pulling it off, the force of the Agent’s grip pulled Connor’s head up off the floor.

  When the material parted, his head fell, hitting the floor again.

  “Ow,” he said dully, more angered at that last insult than anything else.

  “Where is your base?” the raspy voiced man spoke again.

  It was becoming clear to him that for some reason that man was in charge, while the Extremis Agent wasn’t. Something in his head told him that was important, but he wasn’t sure why yet.

  “All your base are belong to us,” he replied.

  The man frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, unsure of where that cryptic reference had come from.

  The question was repeated.

  “What base?” Connor asked.

  “The one your silly little Underground operates from. Stop acting like some dimwitted buffoon.”

  Interesting. So you know we call ourselves the Undergrou
nd do you? I wonder how you came by that little tidbit of information.

  As far as Connor was aware, the Agency hadn’t actually captured any of their operatives yet. Connor and his team had always been able to prevent that. Aside from them, the rest of the operation was mostly contained to internal people, those that the Agency would never know worked for the Underground, because they never did anything in the outside world that would call attention to them. If Connor was being truthful, he didn’t even know how many there were. Flint was the only one who knew that information, and he never involved himself in operations that might expose who he was.

  In response to the man, Connor mimicked the noises of an ape. For that, he earned a swift blow to the ribs from the Extremis Agent. Something collapsed under the fist, and he sucked in a sharp intake of air, pain blossoming over his side as he did.

  Broken rib, one for sure, possibly two. This guy hits too hard. I’ll need to find another way to beat him.

  His eyes began to roam the interior of the van, looking for something he could use as an advantage when he made his move. Meanwhile, the “interrogation,” if that’s what it was, continued.

  “Fine. The names of your comrades then,” the man said, switching avenues of question.

  “Johnny, Freddy, and Georgie,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Are we serious? Is this really your version of an interrogation? I mean, come on! This is pathetic. If you want, I can show you how it’s done,” he suggested, putting his hands under him and starting to rise.

  The Extremis Agent’s fist came at his face, but Connor dropped his hands just in time so that it was only a grazing blow. Playing a hunch, he faked being hit worse than he had. There was no follow-up. While that didn’t confirm his suspicions completely, it helped. It had been quite clear the blow hadn’t impacted him as hard as the others.

  “Very well. If you won’t tell us, we’ll have to move on,” the man said, reaching into his jacket.

  Connor tensed when the man removed his hand. He had expected to see a tranquilizer gun. Instead, the man held a needle, the tube filled with a nearly clear liquid. There was a hint of light green, or perhaps yellow tinge to it. Connor’s head was still hurting, and he couldn’t quite make it out, especially in the dim light in the interior.

  He needed to get his hands on that vial.

  ***

  The van went over a bump.

  The big Agent slammed his head into the ceiling, leaving a slight dent in the metal roofing.

  “Ow,” he said slowly, rubbing the top of his head. The thick, slow voice all but confirmed Connor’s hunch that though the brute may be strong, he wasn’t particularly smart. Something had obviously backfired in their serum.

  It was time to make his move.

  Connor rolled quickly, pulling his legs into his body until his head was toward the interrogator. Planting his hands above his head, he lashed out with both feet, connecting solidly with the Agent’s face. The big man with the impossible strength crumpled under the blow.

  Behind him, the interrogator tried to stab Connor with the needle.

  Compared to the Extremis-enhanced Agent though, this man moved as slow as molasses. Connor’s hand shot out, grasping his wrist and squeezing, simply crushing it until his fingers opened, neatly dropping the vial into Connor’s hand.

  “Hey, what’s going on back there?” The shouted voice came from the front as the man wailed in pain at his mangled wrist.

  “Shut up,” Connor muttered and hit the man square in the face with his right hand, eager to ensure that it worked again after the deadening blow he had taken earlier.

  The man crumpled.

  Excellent.

  Turning toward the rear, he saw his first target starting to move. He jumped on the big man and slammed a fist into his face until he lay still. The blows broke one of Connor’s fingers though, depriving him of his full power.

  “Dammit,” he swore.

  Escape was more important at the moment. The vial had to be delivered into the proper hands. Whatever it may contain, he knew it wasn’t the type of tranquilizer that worked on shifters. That was a deep golden color, closer to opaque than it was translucent. He took the needle, bent the metal around on itself, and jammed it in his pocket.

  The rear doors swung open under a booted blow to the center.

  Noise assaulted him as the van moved quickly through the city streets. Cars passed on one side, and the van passed vehicles on the other side.

  Connor motioned for the truck behind him to stop, then grabbed one of the doors, ripped it off its hinges, and jumped.

  He landed on all fours on top of the metal door and proceeded to hold on for dear life as he careened through the road. The truck behind him hadn’t stopped, only slowed down, and the driver slammed on both the horn and brakes as Connor’s side crunched into the front, sending him spinning wildly in another direction. A car swerved to avoid him and the mirror broke off on Connor’s head. He reached up and pulled a shard of glass from where it had impaled itself on the back of his head.

  This was not my brightest idea.

  A deep horn sounded as he flew across the small strip of empty pavement, marked only by a yellow line, that divided the flow of traffic.

  Connor looked up in horror as he slid under the trailer being towed by a semi-truck. His brain barely had time to tell him he wasn’t going to make it before the rear set of wheels came close. Connor rolled to pull the side of his body that held the vial away from the wheel, but this had the unfortunate effect of leaving his other leg completely exposed.

  The big wheel went up and over it.

  He screamed in pain as bone shattered in his shin from the weight of the trailer on his leg. The big rectangular box on wheels tilted back and forth wildly as it settled back on the road, but Connor barely cared.

  The vial was safe, but he may not be. His leg would heal, but it was broken and in a bad way just then. Feeling the leg, he gritted through the intense pain, focusing himself as best he could to ignore the waves of agony that were exploded from his leg.

  There!

  The break was bad; he needed to reset it. If he could. Putting all his pressure just below the break, he pushed the remainder of his leg away from his body. The pain was intense, to the point he thought he might black out, but bit by bit, the bone pulled apart until it was straight again.

  “Over there!”

  He glanced over his shoulder as he slowly began to release the pressure. The healing abilities of a shifter meant it would begin to knit almost immediately. It would be some time before he could walk properly on it, but several minutes and he would at least be able to hobble along.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he had that much time. The black car from earlier had apparently rejoined them and was in front of the van. It had stopped and men had emerged, threading their way through the multitude of cars to get at him.

  He had to go, and now.

  Using the door as leverage he climbed to his feet—foot, for the time being—unsteadily. The two closest men bunched up as they approached. It was just what Connor had been waiting for. He picked up the door, whirled it around his head, and sent it spinning at the pair like an oversized Frisbee.

  The men yelled and dove out of the way, allowing Connor time to hop his way from the street. He went down the first alley he found, leaving the gawking eyes of the stopped residents of the city behind. What was about to happen was not something they should have to see.

  It didn’t take long for his pursuers to catch up with him, but as long as they didn’t include the troll of an Agent, he hoped to be okay.

  He snatched the lid off a trashcan, holding the round metal object in his right hand, to protect his shattered leg on that side. The continual hopping wasn’t helping, as pain continued to shoot from the leg with every bounce and landing, each motion jolting the break in his bone.

  Backing down the alley, he stopped, looking around him. With a nod, he decided to make his stand.

 
The sudden cessation of his retreat caused the four Agents to slow their approach. By the looks of it, none of them were Extremis-enhanced, but he didn’t know that for sure. Besides, four against one was going to be tough with only one leg. He wouldn’t be able to spin to protect his flanks and rear. The closed confines of the alleyway would help, but only a little.

  “Let’s go then,” he taunted. “Come on. Come at the wounded guy.”

  One of the four nodded at two others, who proceeded to edge past Connor, staying just out of his reach. He made a mental note to try and eliminate that one first. The others deferred to him. Cut off the head, and the body will die much easier. It was one of the first tactics taught when it came to fighting multiple combatants. Eliminate the most dangerous or the leader first. As far as Connor could tell, there was not one of them that was more dangerous the rest.

  The leader pulled out a knife.

  He shrugged mentally. Okay, so that one dies first then.

  One man came at him from each side. The leader brandished his knife and approached the side with the shield, while the larger man came at his left side.

  Connor waited until they closed in, then feinted against the unarmed man before reversing course and thrusting his shield at the knife-wielding hand.

  Both men backed away, but he didn’t make contact with either. His leg was severely limiting him. A third man approached from the middle now, while the fourth hung back, waiting for an opening.

  The knife waved back and forth, forcing Connor to match it with his shield, distracting his attention as the others closed in. They knew he was stronger than them, but all they had to do was get him to expose himself for one moment…

  The middle attacker lunged, but he went for the shield side, forcing Connor to slam the metal circle down, bending it around the hapless man’s head. The man to his right moved a split second later, jerking Connor’s attention that way as he blocked with his left arm.

  Which left his weak side open.

  The knife dug deep, coming in under the makeshift shield that he had been bringing back up to try and protect himself. Connor roared in pain, his right arm shooting directly out. The trash lid caught the man full in the face, sending him spinning to the ground. The metal disc, now completely warped, fell to the ground as Connor let it go.