by Lauren Esker
One thing Avery knew for sure: if Jack believed Fallon was about to make a move toward the next person on his hit list, he wouldn't merely have stood by and let it happen. Even if he couldn't call for backup, Jack would've gone in anyway. He was exactly that sort of reckless hero type.
But he was also more than capable of handling himself in the field. If things had gone wrong, there was no more capable person to be out there. Not to mention that Jack could shift into a big damn grizzly bear. One-on-one, at least, he was capable of taking on the biggest lion in Fallon's pride, and winning.
But part of Jack's strategy would be contingent upon knowing that his team was out there, trying to get to him. So let's make sure we don't let him down.
"First we need to figure out where that boat is," Avery decided. "Rosen, contact the Coast Guard and explain the situation. We're not going to move on the boat yet—we can't, without blowing all our work so far, but we can at least narrow down our efforts."
Rosen nodded and reached for a headset.
"I should get out there," Cho said. She was practically vibrating in place with eagerness to get back in the field again.
Or maybe that was the caffeine.
"Not yet. If we have to get up the coast in a hurry, we'll need fast transportation. Helicopters. See what you can get hold of; they're probably all out in Idaho, but I think the DEA owes us a favor. I," he sighed, "am going to call Division Chief Stiers and let her know we seem to have lost her best field agent."
Stiers, it turned out, was already up. She was a night owl—literally. A great horned owl, to be specific. She'd adapted to working the day shift since getting her promotion from field agent to chief of the Bureau's Pacific Northwest division, but Avery had very rarely managed to catch her asleep. Rumor around the office was that she didn't sleep at all. He'd also heard that she liked to drop in at night to see if she could catch new techs napping on the job.
Tonight, though, she was nowhere near the office. "Glad you caught me," Stiers said, answering on the first ring. "I'm still in Boise, working on our cougar problem, but I've got a flight back to Seattle in the morning. How much of an emergency would you say this is?"
"Depends on whether we hear from Jack in the next few hours," Avery said. He dug a thumb into his temple. Cho's caffeine-and-sugar bomb had done the trick as far as jolting him awake, but it had left him with a throbbing headache that the aspirin didn't seem to be cutting. It didn't help that his wolf instincts were driven half mad by inactivity while a pack member was in danger. He itched under his skin, restless, wanting to move.
With the habits of long practice, he forced himself to stillness, soothing his wolfish side back to relative calm. "Don't bump up your flight. Just take care of what you need to there. We've got the situation in hand and we'll brief you when you arrive."
After he hung up, he sat for a moment with his forehead resting on the heel of his hand. The question was whether Jack had it in hand, and there was no way to know until they either heard from the reckless bear-shifting bastard or found him.
Something clunked heavily near his elbow. He raised his head to find that Cho had refilled his cup. "Figured this was the sort of night that called for two Cho specials," she said. "It'll cure what ails ya."
"Oh, God," Avery groaned, but he took a sip anyway, wincing as the powerful combination of too much coffee and even more sugar blasted his taste buds. It'd either clear out his headache or leave him unable to sleep for a week. "You're a menace, you know that?"
"I strive to be menacing," Cho said. She sat on the edge of his desk, swinging her legs and looking about as unmenacing as it was possible to be, especially in her oversized sweater and jeans. Avery wasn't a big guy, but she made him feel large. Her straight dark hair fell in two graceful wings on either side of her narrow face.
She nudged him with her foot. "Hey. He'll be okay, Hollen. We'll find him."
"I'm confident Jack can take care of himself," Avery said. "I just wish we could do more to make sure he doesn't have to. We're supposed to be his backup, damn it."
Cho punched him lightly in the shoulder. "We'll get him back, Avery."
"Weren't you getting us a helicopter?"
"On it, Agent Wolf-Shifter sir," she said, with a fake (and very sloppy) salute.
Avery snorted and drank some more of the sticky goop in the cup. Jack had better have the situation under control, or Avery would use his one good leg—or three good wolf legs—to kick his ass.
Chapter Four
Casey followed her companion through the dark woods, trying not to trip over anything else. She didn't want to admit to Jack that her foot still throbbed where she'd stubbed her toe, and she was pretty sure she'd picked up a thorn in her heel. Also, she was surprised by how much her feet and legs ached. She'd never realized that walking barefoot for a long period of time was a lot more work than walking in shoes. Her feet had to flex in whole new ways, and her hips swung differently because of the way her feet came down.
It didn't help that Jack was a very frustrating person to be handcuffed to. He moved in an erratic and unpredictable start-stop pattern, alternately yanking on the handcuffs and causing her to bump into him.
Into the very naked backside of him, to be specific. Which was not something she really had a problem with, but it was very distracting under the circumstances.
And she did wish circumstances were otherwise. Even in the dim light, she could tell that Jack was an absolutely gorgeous hunk of guy. He moved with a smooth natural grace, his muscles sliding under the skin, all controlled strength and power. When he stopped to listen to the dark forest, cocking his head to one side, she found herself looking at the sharp plane of his jawline, his high sculpted cheekbones.
In spite of the scars and tattoos sending clear keep away signals, and the unmistakable air of danger about him, there was something warm and approachable in his eyes that she hadn't expected. And his unavoidable proximity reminded her how long it had been since she'd been this close to anyone.
Especially someone this hot.
Hey, it was a distraction.
It was better than thinking about the situation she was in. Let's be honest here, Casey. The situation you got yourself into.
Basic biology soon provided her with a different, much less pleasant distraction from her gloomy thoughts. A growing distraction. A distraction which, in fact, was getting bad enough that she knew she'd have to say something sooner or later. She suffered in silence for another few minutes before she finally broke. "Uh, Jack? I'm sorry, this is really embarrassing, but—I have to use the bathroom."
Jack gave a slightly sheepish laugh. "Yeah, ditto. A lot of drugs process out through the bladder."
"We'd better do it, then."
"Guess so."
It was small consolation that the more assertive and knowledgeable member of their involuntary partnership seemed to be as uncertain about this as she was. They stared at each other for a moment in the semi-darkness; she could see the glitter of his eyes.
"Bushes," she suggested. "For, you know. Privacy."
The forest understory was fairly open here—better for walking around naked in, but not so great now that concealment was what they needed.
"It is dark," Jack pointed out. "We could probably just—"
"No." She patted the shaggy bark of the tree next to her. "This is a nice big tree. You on one side, me on the other. The cuffs can wrap around."
Jack shuffled around the tree. Immediately Casey felt like her arm was trying to bend backwards, twisting it out of its socket. "Wait, wait! I think I have to—ow—face the tree—" She tried to twist around, which turned out to be impossible without getting face-to-face with Jack and then circling around the tree the other way. She started to crouch down, and the handcuff yanked her wrist again, pulling her face-first into the tree.
"Ow!"
"What are you doing over there?" Jack demanded.
"Trying to do what I gotta do! What are you doing?"
> "Same, except trying to manage left-handed."
She was glad her face was pressed against the tree; the bark cooled her burning cheeks a little. "Right," she said. "Guys, uh, have to use their hands."
"And girls don't do it standing up. Forgot about that." His embarrassment was actually audible; it seemed to be transmitted down the handcuffs to her, like electric impulses on a telegraph. If she blushed any harder, she thought her hair might burst into flames.
"Look, Agent Ross, I need some slack here."
"Gimme a minute."
Casey tried to ignore the soft pattering sounds from the other side of the tree. Foliage brushed her bare legs and ass. "There better not be poison ivy here," she said.
"There isn't any on the coast," Jack said. "At least, if that's still where we are."
The cuff tugged downward, giving her enough slack to move. She crouched down and focused very hard on not thinking about Jack's proximity. By way of small favors, her bladder's urgency was now so intense that she didn't have too much trouble. It's just natural bodily functions, after all, she told herself, which didn't help as much as she wished it would.
"Standing up now," she said.
Jack, unseen behind the tree, stood up with her, and managed not to yank her wrist too hard. She stepped away from the tree in sync with him. They were both trying not to look at each other.
"Well," Casey said, "that was easily in the top five most embarrassing things that's ever happened to me. And that includes the time I got smashed on jello shots and threw up in my best friend's cleavage while she was trying to help me to the bathroom."
"I'd say that one sounds worse." Jack took the lead again. Casey tried to keep up. "Good incentive to get the cuffs off before there's a next time."
"I wish you hadn't brought that up."
He laughed softly, then stopped. Casey bumped into him. A little electric frisson passed through her when she brushed against him, and she took a quick step back.
Paying little attention to her, Jack was looking up. She followed his gaze, curious, but saw nothing except the tops of the trees. The sky was starting to brighten as the short northern night approached dawn.
"How are you at tree climbing?" Jack asked.
Best to be honest. "Not very good, as either a human or a lynx. I could probably make it up a tree if it had lots of limbs close together. But ..." She gave the cuffs a little rattle.
He groaned. "This is gonna be tough."
"Why did you want to climb a tree?"
"To avoid leaving a scent trail on the ground." He shook his head and started forward.
The ground was rising, getting rougher and rockier. They had to scramble around and over some boulders, the cuff more or less constantly jerking on Casey's wrist. At least she could see a little better now, but it didn't help much when she was trying not to trip or fall into Mr. Stop'n'Go. It had been hard moving together when the ground was nearly level, but on the hill it was a nightmare.
When he yanked on her wrist for the umpty-zillionth time, she snapped, "Could you please not do that?"
"Could you try to keep up?" Jack retorted.
"Says the guy who keeps stopping all the time," Casey shot back.
Jack started to say something, then paused. "You're right," he said in a more conciliatory tone. "It's tough—I'm used to being able to move at my own speed, do my own thing."
"Like climb trees." She chewed her lip to stop the angry tears that wanted to spring up in her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not better at this."
"Don't apologize. You're actually doing really well at keeping up, especially if you aren't used to it."
"Oh," she said, surprised. "Thank you."
"Do you want to sit down for a minute?"
She very badly did. But she didn't want to slow Jack down or make him think less of her. "Can we afford to rest? I mean, if we are really being followed."
"A few minutes won't make that much difference," Jack said. "I could use a break too."
He was probably just trying to make her feel better—he didn't even sound out of breath—but she was willing to take the kindness at face value. "Yes, please."
They sat side by side on a moss-covered fallen log. It was cold under her bare butt, and she tried not to squirm too obviously. Around them, the forest had faded from black to steadily lightening shades of gray. Distant birds twittered sleepily in the chill dawn, their songs echoing through the trees.
Casey's lynx instincts stirred, drawn to the twilight world that was the natural hunting time of crepuscular predators like the one that was the other half of her soul. She wondered if Jack felt it, too.
"If only we shifted into smaller animals," she said. "Then we could get out of the cuffs easily."
"Yeah, I wish. Never wanted so badly to be a small animal before."
"Really?" she said. "I used to wish I could shift into a bird. Not only does flying sound grand, but it would've been nice to have a shifter self that could fit into an urban environment. People tend to notice a lynx roaming around downtown Seattle."
"I was always happy being a bear," Jack said. "Still ... are you sure you can't slip your paw out of the cuffs?"
"Have you seen the size of a lynx's paws? We're adapted for walking on the snow."
"So that'd be a definite no, then."
"That'd be a no. Although," she added, "my wrists in my lynx form aren't any bigger than my human wrists. I probably could shift. I just wouldn't be able to get out of the cuffs."
"You might," Jack said. "It's worth a try."
She felt terribly self-conscious about shifting in front of him, but she told herself she was being ridiculous. They'd just done something much more embarrassing, after all. "Okay, but I'd better get down on the ground. I don't want to dislocate my arm."
Jack obligingly slid off the log, and Casey knelt on the ground. Normally shifting was effortless, a quick rush of energy that faded away to leave her in her other form, but the cuffs and Jack's quiet presence acted as a powerful inhibitor. She had to close her eyes and focus herself inward, like she hadn't since she was first learning to control it.
But she found it at last, that forest place inside her with hunters' golden eyes gleaming through the dense underbrush. The lynx rose up inside her, and with it came a wealth of sensory input—a whole universe of smells and sounds, carried to her sharper feline senses. The cool night air, so uncomfortable to her bare human skin, was like a warm bedroom to the heavily furred lynx.
She opened her eyes to find the gray dawn light as bright as afternoon. The scents of the forest had become wonderfully layered, a whole novel in every inhalation. She could tell where the tiny feet of mice and voles had passed by; she could scent deer, and the salty breath of a not-too-distant ocean. Her whiskers quivered and her sensitive ears pricked forward, listening to the wind in the trees, the almost imperceptible rustles of small things moving in the dense layer of leaves and pine needles on the forest floor.
And Jack, of course. He was on his knees, watching her. She could see him clearly with her newly sharpened night vision, but his nakedness now bothered her no more than the memory of her own; she couldn't understand why she'd ever been embarrassed by it.
She should have lynx-shifted for the earlier bathroom break, she now realized. It would have been much less humiliating, if a little trickier in terms of logistics. In fact, why hadn't she just been a lynx all along? She was so much better suited to the forest in this shape. It seemed very sensible.
But there was also a distracting, painful constriction around her left ankle, pressing uncomfortably through the fur to bruise the bone. Casey lifted her foreleg and bit at it, tasting the sharp tang of metal, unpleasant and bitter.
"No," Jack said.
He touched her paw. She bared her teeth at him, but then her human mind prevailed over her lynx instincts, and she smoothed out her wrinkled muzzle.
Jack had pulled his hand back, but when she relaxed he touched the cuff lightly, feeling through her thick fu
r for the contact between metal and skin. He winced.
"Wow, yeah, that's tight. Want to see if you can pull it off? I'll hold it. You pull."
He gripped the cuff tightly. Casey tried to pull her paw backwards. It didn't budge; all it did was scrape the cuff against the skin. She hissed softly and tried again.
"No luck," Jack said. "You'll just hurt yourself."
Casey sat back on her haunches. She didn't want to let go of the lynx. She felt so much safer in this form, so much more at home and comfortable in the woods than in her soft, fragile human body. The forest called to her; she wanted to run, to hunt, to vanish into the shadows ...
But it was a deceptive kind of freedom. She'd be just as vulnerable in lynx form to the big predators hunting her. And with one cuff around her ankle and the other attached to Jack's wrist, she couldn't run in lynx form anyway. The best they'd be able to manage was an awkward shuffle.
With a little huff, she transformed back.
While she was in her lynx body, she discovered, color had seeped back into the world: the green of pine needles, the blue of the sky. Sunlight gleamed soft gold on the tops of the trees.
Jack still had his hand on hers. He jerked it back self-consciously. Casey met his eyes for a fraction of an instant, discovering they were a deep brown, with maybe the slightest hint of gray in the depths.
Forest eyes.
She dropped her gaze, except now she was looking down at her own naked chest, reminding her that Jack couldn't help seeing it too. Aargh. Things had been so much simpler when she was a lynx.
"How's your wrist?" Jack asked.
Casey tried to move the cuff off the abrasions without hurting them more. The pain had bothered her less as a lynx. It wasn't severe, but she had definitely scratched up the skin. "I'm okay, I guess. And on the bright side, I didn't smell lion, and I did smell ocean. We're near the sea."
