Wired For Love

by Michelle Howard

  Crap, he had fists of steel. She staggered back, the blow setting her torso to throbbing. Too many direct strikes like that one and he’d have her laid out in no time.

  Stepping away with her weapon up and ready, Narelle couldn’t resist a taunt of her own. “You could always go to The Zone and look for Hunter yourself.”

  In ordinary circumstances, she would never give someone up like this, but Narelle had every bit of faith in Hunter handling himself just fine against this former soldier. And he was definitely a soldier. It was written all over him. The way he held himself, the fighting stance and the way his gaze never left hers told its own story. But his presence contained none of the deadly energy found circling the man she’d just left.

  “No need. You’re exactly the break I’ve been waiting for. Hunter hasn’t let another close to him in years. Not one friend or lover.”

  Shows what he knew. “I’m not close to him.”

  “Oh, but you are.”

  Before Narelle could ponder that statement, he switched gears and attacked in a way that let her know he’d been holding back before. Lightning fast moves Narelle couldn’t hope to counter came at her. The crack of a fist to the jaw sent blood spurting from her abused tongue. Another strike to her soft belly left a fiery trail of pain, followed by a sweeping kick, which landed her on the ground.

  The knife flew from her grip as Narelle crashed into the hard surface and cried out. Her head rocked twice, pain exploded and stars raced across her vision. Body tensing, she prepared to meet her death bravely. The only measure of relief came from knowing Hunter would be pissed and this stranger, whoever he was, had no idea what he’d started.

  She might fight the attraction between her and the owner of The Zone, but Narelle wasn’t foolish enough to believe Hunter wouldn’t take her death personally. He had a protective streak larger than life.

  Despite the pain, her lips curled in a grin at the thought. Her attacker crouched beside her, his leather pants rippling. He braced a palm on the ground and leaned close to hover above her face. “You find something funny?”

  She choked out a laugh. “Only that I wish I could be there when you get fucked up by Hunter.”

  He snarled and gripped her hair, pulling her head back and putting a strain on her neck as he next spoke. “We’ll see about that. It’s long past time for Hunter Gils to pay his dues.”

  Not understanding amidst the pain and confusion, Narelle blinked. How hard had he hit her? Nausea swirled and she spat another wad of blood out. “Maybe you should talk to him yourself. Hunter and I aren’t exactly friends.”

  They’d had sex. No future plans for more.

  A grim smile crossed his handsome face. He dragged a finger down her cheek, across her jaw and stopped at the pounding pulse in her throat. The move threatened in its simplicity. Justified fear surged as he pressed down with his whole palm surrounding her lifeline. The throbbing beat jumped in response, causing him to release a ruthless chuckle.

  Every bit of her body ached, but Narelle considered a vicious head-butt to escape. Blue shards dared her to make the move. She remained still, knowing he was one wrong word away from snapping her neck no matter his issue with Hunter.

  As if he had all the time in the world, her attacker loosened his grip, and continued his forefinger’s prior journey. The blunt digit tapped further down before landing on her collarbone. Narelle couldn’t control her shiver. He traced an odd pattern on the tender skin, then yanked hard enough on her hair with his other hand to pull the roots. Narelle screamed against her will.

  “Hunter always did like marking his women,” he whispered. “Possessive and stupid at the same time. For future reference, if you want to deny belonging to a man, make sure he doesn’t leave his love bruises all over your throat.”

  Barking in the distance dispelled the eerie quiet of the night. He stood suddenly, the flap of his leather coat swishing. Bogan. Without a doubt in her mind, Narelle knew it had to be the war mongrel. She rolled to her side, gasping, but determined. She pressed a hand to the sharp pain which pierced her side with the move.

  Groaning, she pushed up to her knees. The world spun in a sickening circle and she crashed back to her stomach.

  Damn it! Narelle knew she should have left the sexy bartender alone. Anger renewed at Hunter pushing the matter between them, but her eyes closed against her will. She hoped to the dark beyond she didn’t pass out. If she did, Hunter would probably go crazy when he found her.

  Thinking of him brought a small measure of calm. Her pulse slowed its erratic pace and Narelle could no longer hold off the inevitable as she fell forward and surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

  ***

  Hunter finished the file he’d downloaded and was no closer to figuring out how the government lost such a valuable commodity like the war mongrel. They were notorious for keeping track of every person or machine they spent money on. Only problem was, if Hunter probed further, he was bound to draw attention he didn’t want or need.

  As he shut down the system, Bogan sat up with a whine, gaze locked on Hunter’s face. Pushing away from his make shift desk, Hunter turned completely toward the corner where the war mongrel shook with nervous energy. Ignoring his naked state, Hunter attempted to soothe the animal. “Gemfach, Bogan. Komm.”

  Instead of coming toward him as he’d commanded, Bogan alerted, tail straight out and body angled at the window. Hunter stood and crossed the space to place a hand on the war mongrel’s head. He and the others soldiers had learned the small physical contact would sometimes comfort the animals when they appeared on edge.

  Bogan didn’t relax.

  Hunter crouched beside him, hoping to connect, but Bogan avoided his gaze. Deliberately. Frustration mixed with empathy bubbled up for the animal who no longer had a handler. Bogan didn’t need Hunter to recover completely, he needed Donner. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to heal the war mongrel’s emotional wounds and bring back the dead.

  Bogan would have to push through it as Hunter had when he’d lost the men who were like family and Riktor who was his best half. Not that any of that mattered right now.

  Thanks to Narelle, Hunter was left in a position he detested. Still the war mongrel wasn’t all the way to blame for his behavior. Their training prohibited ignoring a nearby threat of any sort, which meant something was wrong. The idea alone brought out Hunter’s own protective nature. “What is it?”

  He didn’t expect an answer but the animal’s entire body quivered with the need to move. Brows drawn close, it took a moment for Hunter’s senses to attune using their newly formed sync. Whatever it was had the war mongrel really disturbed.

  Trying to puzzle it out wouldn’t get Hunter anywhere and the more he stood waiting, the more agitated Bogan grew, letting out another low whine.

  Only one thing, one person could have caused the war mongrel’s strong reaction. In that instance, the obvious answer came to Hunter.

  Narelle.

  Despite the trijl he now shared with Bogan, the animal for some reason had also endeared himself to Narelle. If Bogan’s body language was anything to go by then she was in danger.

  “Gehe! Suche.” Go! Search! The command snapped out, Hunter’s own urgency lending it a resounding bite.

  Bogan launched from his spot and headed for the bedroom window. His lean body streamed through the space easily, back paws clipping the frame as he cleared the opening. Hunter leaned out to catch a glimpse of him going down the rickety outdoor stairs and off into the night, his muscled brown body low to the ground in stealth mode.

  “Shit!” Hunter delayed for a bare moment. Then he backed away from the window to drag on his pants. Foregoing a shirt, he grabbed his hand-held laser and two knives which he tucked into his boots after slamming them on his feet. A back-up pistol stashed in the waist of his pants and he was ready.

  Hunching his large body over, Hunter climbed through the window following the path Bogan had taken. As he barreled down the no
w deserted streets, more curses slipped past Hunter’s lips. He worked harder than ever to reopen the sync with Bogan as he passed by familiar buildings.

  ‘Bogan, bericht! Bericht!’

  No response, only a blank space where he should have keyed into the war mongrel. Fear, a forgotten foe, paid an unwanted visit but Hunter shoved it far away into the recess of his mind. No time to dwell on what was happening to send Bogan darting off into the night.

  Ice cold calm descended over Hunter, his training and years in the military coming back with all too familiar ease.

  Track. Corner. Destroy.

  Three simple mandates he’d lived by as a soldier during the Vargos War. Hunter didn’t want to be that man again, but he would be if he had to. For Narelle.

  System access. Online. Activate protocol.

  The command given was subconscious but one Hunter didn’t regret. His head only stung a little from the blip of pain as he allowed his Lomanis heritage to fully merge with the government adjustments. He’d only told Narelle part of the truth. Lomanis were far better at integrating with electronics then he’d implied. It was why he’d been selected to lead raid after raid during the war. The scientists couldn’t figure it out and Hunter never explained.

  He took to all the messing around in his brain with more ease than the other soldiers. Out of the twenty-five recruits in the WIRED program, he’d synced with his war mongrel Riktor on the first day they were introduced, suffering the least amount of discomfiture.

  Now Hunter would use his legacy to force the connection with Bogan if he had to. Blaming the animal for the small tugs of resistance and defiance was pointless. Hunter wasn’t his original handler after all. But Narelle’s safety was at stake and it meant all bets were off.

  With that thought in mind, Hunter forced the sync with the war mongrel at the same time he reissued the command. ‘Bericht!’ Report.

  Rapid fire code scrolled across Hunter’s optic screen and a blinking square representing Bogan appeared, moving faster than the average animal. But then Bogan wasn’t an average animal. He was government engineered property bred to assist during a war that no longer existed.

  The animal’s speed reminded Hunter of another war mongrel with the same instinctive drive to rescue. Riktor. Hunter’s stomach knotted. Losing the war mongrel he’d been synced with had caused Hunter unspeakable pain which took months to recover from. After that last mission, he’d made a promise to never put himself through the same striking torment again. Ever.

  Yet here he was, racing through the streets after a war mongrel and a woman who had the potential to destroy Hunter’s whole world.

  “Bogan, haltzo.” Despite the distance, his shout should reach Bogan’s enhanced auditory adjustments. To increase the odds, he sent the order via the sync as well.

  Narelle’s scream ripped through the night and the hair on Hunter’s arms stood on end. In that moment he knew he’d hear the sound in his nightmares for years to come.

  No mercy, he thought as he rushed forward, forcing himself to breath in and out. Whoever thought to mess with Narelle would soon learn she had a man willing to kill for her. Death would be too kind for them.

  The red square hovering on his optic screen slowed briefly then took off like a shot. Panic flared and Hunter increased his speed. The blown adjustments in his right knee protested the demand he placed on them but responded. As he hurdled toward Narelle, Hunter knew his image would appear blurred to any observers.

  “Hang on, beauty,” he murmured, not giving in to the fear gnawing at his insides. She would be fine.

  No other outcome was acceptable.

  Chapter 8

  The area Hunter traced Bogan to was a less than desirable section of town. He couldn’t imagine why or what would have drawn Narelle this way unless she was using the credit by the hour rental housing.

  Short, successive barks ahead signaled Bogan’s position. Hunter slowed to a half-jog and withdrew his laser as he neared. Then he spotted the crumpled figure on the ground and his heart stopped in his chest.

  “Narelle!” Hunter rushed to her side, sliding to his knees.

  The blow to his chest caught him off guard and Hunter flew backward, his body slamming onto the ground feet away. Instinct had him rolling to his front, the laser still clutch in his grip.

  Coming toward him, a cloak figure chuckled. “I knew she’d be the means to bring you out. Always on guard, always close to the pathetic bar you run.”

  Footsteps clacked, drawing closer with each muttered word. Hunter rose, never taking his gaze off the man. Flashes of blond hair winked in the flickers of light cast from a nearby street source.

  “Who are you?” Not that the answer mattered. Hunter planned to kill him for daring to touch Narelle.

  “Don’t you recognize the man you ruined?”

  Voice harsh and grating, but not familiar. Hunter strained to place the features as the man came to a stop beside Narelle’s prone figure. Bogan approached from the opposite direction, stiff legged and snarling.

  “Haltzo. Las.”

  For once, the war mongrel obeyed his order instantly and froze in his tracks. Fur ruffled in ridges along his back in a clear indication of the animal’s agitation. His upper lip peeled back revealing deadly teeth capable of crushing bones if caught between his powerful jaws.

  The stranger glanced down at Bogan and sneered. “Another K9? You always managed to end up winning in the end while the rest of us suffered for your actions.”

  Blue eyes met his and knowledge broke through Hunter’s confusion as his muscles locked in place. The last mission—Hunter’s greatest success and failure. It wasn’t possible though. There were no survivors from his team. The government had been adamant as they disclosed the devastating news to Hunter upon waking from his surgery. “How?”

  Even as Hunter asked the question, his mind snatched him back to the fateful day which had changed the tide of the Vargos war. With his war mongrel, Riktor, by his side and his team of five, they’d gone into the communication center fast and hard. Intel hinted this location housed several of the masterminds directing the efforts of the Vargos ships and their commanders.

  If Hunter’s team could take them out, it would shift the tide of battle. Strike a much needed blow against an enemy which seemed to haunt and follow Hunter his entire life.

  Trailing behind Riktor, Hunter led his squad to what would be their doom.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  Each room they checked was empty. Disappointment cast a pall. They’d been so sure. So certain this was it. Hunter exchanged a glance with each of his men dressed from head to toe in battle gear and received a chin lift in return. They would keep going. Search the grounds next if necessary before giving up.

  The washed-out bunker hummed with abandoned computronics. But no sign of Vargos soldiers. In the last room at the back of the place, Hunter lowered his weapon and cursed. Jestin entered behind him, pushing up his protective goggles and pursed his lips, vivid green gaze glowing with frustration.

  “How’d we get it wrong?” Noah questioned in a rough voice, his usually laughing blue eyes narrowed.

  “Wait.” Lukain, Hunter’s right hand, paused next to a blinking screen on one of the tables shoved against a wall and leaned forward. “This is it. It’s running code. Sending direction to their troops.”

  The resounding cheer left Hunter with a relieved grin. “Blow that shit.”

  Before the last word left his mouth, five lasers blasted away. And then Hunter heard it. A sound that curled his last meal in his belly and threatened to send it back up in a rush. He should have known this was too easy.

  Low tones beeped from above. Everyone’s gaze jerked toward the ceiling and the digital timer counting down on a wall mounted plate.

  35

  34

  33

  No time to find the source of the bomb. No time to get Riktor to seek and deactivate.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Hunter y
elled, waving them back through the door they’d entered.

  The distance from the narrow hallway to the only exit seemed miles away. Sweat trickled beneath Hunter’s blast helmet and soaked his collar. Boots pounded around him as his friends, men he’d fought with raced to beat time.

  Riktor used his trijl to send a mirror timer over Hunter’s optic adjustment, adding the clock over his vision.

  “Riktor! Komme!”

  Ignoring his order for the first time, the stubborn war mongrel stayed in the back.

  30

  29

  28

  “Fuck!” Hunter roared as the initial blast ricocheted behind them. Too soon. A secondary incendiary device blew from the left, rocking the structure and sending plumes of dirt and dust down on their heads. Air whistled through his lips and with his heart in his throat, Hunter wondered if this was the end.

  In front of him, Lukain stumbled going to one knee. Jestin snagged him under one arm and yanked him back to his feet. Too close for Hunter’s piece of mind, but they were close. Almost out.

  “Step lively ladies!” They were all WIRED and his command pinged on everyone’s auditory adjustments.

  Laughter broke out though gazes remained steely and determined. Four Vargos appeared in front of them and rushed forward, their yellow skin visible easily in the simple loincloths they wore. Weapons fired around them. Hunter aimed for head shots.

  A blast too close and Jestin yelled as he dodged to the left, Lukain still in his grip. Hunter surged forward, shooting non-stop as he roared. The aliens dropped one by one, clearing the way.

  Nearing the exit, the wall of the arched doorway shook. Now that he was in the lead, Hunter thrust a shoulder against the weakening support structure. He ignored the immediate pain that shot down his right side. The only thing which mattered was surviving. He wouldn’t fail his team.

  “Move it now!” He screamed. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he was too scared to blink. All four stormed toward him. Hunter could read their expressions through the face shields of their blast helmets.