by Lynn Graeme
She wanted to ask Jamal if he’d spoken to anybody about prosthetics, but she knew she couldn’t do it with him currently roiling with anger. When she’d arrived to visit him ten minutes ago, she’d witnessed him throwing a bedpan at one of the nurses. Fortunately, it’d been empty. Isobel had ushered the nurse out so that Jamal could take his anger out on her instead.
She could handle him. She was used to handling growly males.
She steadfastly refused to think about a particular growly male she’d avoided when leaving her house that morning, or of her pleasantly languid muscles that had tempted her to linger abed.
No, she’d ruthlessly denied her body’s wish to indulge in satiated recollections of the previous night. She’d woken Naley up far earlier than necessary, listening to her niece’s groggy grumbles as they had breakfast. She’d dropped Naley off at school for weekend practice before heading over to HQ. After submitting her report, Isobel had turned in her gun and badge as required prior to her mandatory leave. The Council also deactivated her access to their resources for the remainder of that period, to be reinstated once she was back on-duty.
That done, she’d attended the first in a series of required visits to the staff psychologist. It was another routine part of protocol for agents emerging out of certain brutal, demanding missions. She hadn’t seen Malcolm in the waiting room, but that wasn’t unusual; they usually preferred to stagger the session days for agents involved in the same mission, so his session likely took place tomorrow.
Now she was officially off-duty. She’d arrived at the hospital to visit Rex and Jamal, who were stationed in the shifter wing. The antiseptic smells in this wing weren’t as harsh and offensive to the olfactory system, and though the machine beeps and announcements over the intercom couldn’t be avoided, the soundproofing here was better than in the human wing.
Rex and Jamal were on different floors, but they had their own rooms in a secure section of the building on account of their status as Council agents. Isobel had looked in on Rex earlier, but he’d been fast asleep so she hadn’t stayed. The nurse there said he was recovering speedily, though, so he was doing much better than Jamal.
Speaking of which… .
Jamal scowled at her from his bed. He thumped his fist on the sheets.
“You’re the best agent in the field and the Council knows it,” he snarled. “It should be you out there hunting Ogden down right now, not some junior-level hack. Who’s out there, Reaver? Thomson? Did they send Lewski?”
“Jamal… .”
“If it’d been you going after the Ogdens in the first place—”
He stopped. Isobel finished the sentence: “Then none of this would’ve happened?”
His jaw worked. “You know I don’t blame you, Isobel.”
He’d used her first name. He really was struggling, she thought with dismay.
“Maybe you should,” she murmured. If she hadn’t left in the middle of it all to return to Naley, Jamal wouldn’t have had to take her place, and he wouldn’t be here right now. But what else could she have done? Left Naley alone to fend for herself, perhaps for several days, while she went after the Ogdens? That hadn’t been an option. If something had happened to her while she’d been away … or worse, if something had happened to Naley while she’d been away… .
Naley was safe, but Jamal was here now, in this condition.
Isobel forced herself to slam the door on the insidious circle of guilt crowding out her thoughts. She couldn’t leave that door open. It would only let all the what-ifs consume her, and she’d seen too many agents go down for that.
She drew in a deep breath. “Who’s to say it wouldn’t have been me in that hospital bed right now? I know you, Jamal. We’ve worked together for a long time. You’re a good agent. There’s nothing you could’ve done that I wouldn’t have done differently.”
“How the hell do you know? You weren’t there!”
Isobel flinched. Jamal looked away.
“Then tell me,” she said softly. “What happened out there, Jamal?”
He gritted his teeth, avoiding her eyes. “You didn’t read my report?”
She shook her head. “You know I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to. I’m off-duty now, remember?”
He swallowed, then returned his gaze to hers. “The two scents diverged. Hagen and I went after Rupert, the others after Pierry. I didn’t wait; I was hot after the scent and outran Hagen. I didn’t realize that the scent had circled around to join the father’s until it was too late.”
Isobel kept her expression impassive. She had to.
“I was overpowered. In a moment of distraction with one Ogden, the other pressed my hand to his collar and initiated the release mechanism. Seems they’d paid close attention when we were putting the collars on them, because they knew exactly where on the panel to place my prints.” His jaw hardened. “The older Ogden shifted and sank his teeth into me to hold me down so that the son could release his own collar. I started to shift, raked my claws across Pierry’s face. That was when he got the collar off, shifted, and ripped my hand off.”
A tic throbbed hard in Jamal’s cheek. “Rupert tore me up a bit, then they both scattered when they heard the others coming. I was too consumed by pain to move. I should’ve moved, though. Should’ve called out a warning. Should’ve done something.” There was a hollowness in his eyes that Isobel instantly hated, instantly wanted to take away. “I didn’t see what happened, but I heard. I heard everything. The team had expected the Ogdens to be trapped in human form. They didn’t find out until it was too late.”
Isobel rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, but knew the words were inane and inadequate. Utterly useless right now.
He swallowed. She could see him visibly push back the emotions that threatened at the surface as he returned his steely glare to hers. “We all knew the risks when we took on this job, Saba. So shut the fuck up and find Pierry. You know you’re the one to do it.”
She wanted to. She wanted to find Pierry Ogden and press her blade to his throat. Make him pay for doing this to her friend. To Rex. For killing her colleagues. She wanted to hunt him down, but she’d been taken off this mission and placed on leave. Now she had to rely on other agents to finish the job. They’d better work fast, because the case would grow too damn cold for her to pick up again by the time she was back on-duty.
“There’s nothing I’d like better than to tear him apart with my bare hands, Jamal. But you know I can’t. Protocol. I’ve been placed off-du—”
Jamal snarled and slammed his fist against one of the machines hooked up next to his bed. A series of erratic beeps and alarms went off, and the room was instantly flooded with nurses and resident physicians.
“Fuck protocol!” he shouted as he wrenched off the tubes and wires connected to him. “You think protocol is going to fix any of this?”
Isobel started to step forward, but a security guard put himself in front of her. The guard knew she was an agent and so didn’t try any bullshit intimidation tactics, but his arched eyebrow indicated without words that it was best if she left.
“Fuck the Council,” Jamal yelled. “You can do better, Saba. You know that!”
Isobel had to force herself to walk away. She went down the hallway, toward the elevators, all while his voice continued to ring throughout the entire floor: “God-fucking-dammit, Saba, stop following the damn rules and go after the bloody bastard!”
*
Naley was upbeat when Isobel picked her up from practice. It helped ease Isobel’s tension from visiting Jamal.
“Can we get sushi for lunch first?” Naley asked, jumping into the jeep.
“Practice must’ve been a breeze if all you want is sushi after that hard work. What happened to the two dozen eggs a day?”
“Ha ha. Coach never said we’re supposed to have two dozen eggs a day.” Naley cast her a quick, suspicious look, but Isobel raised one hand from
the wheel in a protestation of innocence.
“I haven’t talked to your coach at all. Wouldn’t want to send him into fits, or whatever it is you think I’m supposed to have done to him.”
“You’d better not. Anyway, sushi’s not all I’m eating.” Her tone added the unspoken obviously. “I just want it first. Then we can go to that barbecue place afterward, and finish off with ice-cream at Scooter’s. There’s a sushi place near where Liam dropped off his stuff yesterday. I can show you that crazy expensive rocking chair I was telling you about.”
Isobel maneuvered the jeep around downtown traffic. She refused to react to the mention of Liam’s name. She’d never run from a challenge in her life, and was pissed at knowing she’d done essentially that when she’d backed away from Liam last night.
She wouldn’t think about how he’d felt inside her, thick and hard and thrusting to the hilt.
She didn’t do complicated.
Damn, she still burned. And the burn was even worse now, knowing he was so close, right there within reach. She could just walk over to his cabin and jump him. All she’d have to do was ask.
She wasn’t going to ask.
Isobel knew where Hooper’s Fine Furnishings was, but Naley pointed the way anyway. The girl was out of the jeep before Isobel had even finished parking. “Come and see,” she said enthusiastically, tugging on Isobel’s arm.
Isobel, amused, let herself be dragged over to the store window. She did a quick sweep of their surroundings on the way. She might be officially off-duty, but cataloging everything around her with swift precision was second nature, as instinctive as breathing. Human mother twenty feet ahead, pushing her baby in a stroller. Three humans and two shifters—fox and jaguar—outside an Italian restaurant, arguing about going elsewhere for their lunch meeting. Two wolf-shifters lounging idly across the street.
No, that wasn’t right. Their casual slouching was feigned, their eyes too watchful. Isobel studied the two men, taking note of their description before returning her attention to Naley.
“That one, see?” Naley pointed through the storefront window. “Twelve hundred. Can you believe it? Oh hey, Mrs. Hooper’s there. Hi, Mrs. Hooper!”
Naley waved through the window. Isobel saw an older woman flap a hand back before turning to the customer she’d been speaking to.
Isobel’s senses spiked to full attention. She didn’t need to turn around to know that the two wolves behind them were crossing the street.
“Naley,” she said casually, “why don’t you go in and say hi to Mrs. Hooper?”
“I just did. C’mon, time for sushi.” Naley turned away.
She stopped the girl mid-stride with a firm hand around her elbow. The two men stood on the sidewalk, several feet from them. Isobel bristled at the fixated gleam in their eyes as they focused on Naley.
“Cub,” she said softly, “go say hello to Mrs. Hooper. Now.”
Naley looked at Isobel, then at the two men. Without a word, she disappeared into the store. One of the wolf-shifters started after Naley, but Isobel’s growl stopped him in his tracks.
The man on her right was older, harder, his skin tanned a craggy brown from too much time in the sun. The one on her left was taller, in his early twenties, arrogant chin jutting out. Their shared blond looks indicated they were most likely brothers.
There was something else about them that seemed insidiously familiar, but Isobel couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” she inquired mildly.
The older one, Righty, took his eyes away from the store entrance. “That your cub?” He spoke with a slight brogue.
“Who’s asking?”
“You know ’bout the company she keeps?”
Isobel smiled. It was a cold, inscrutable smile, her favorite to bring out when interrogating a suspect. She could see that neither brother liked her lack of reply, because their expressions turned black.
It was too bad she was off-duty, otherwise she could’ve run their prints. Few shifters carried physical documentation around with them these days. It brought back too many dark memories of being ID’ed and outed to their human counterparts.
Righty tested the air, then flung a sharp look at Isobel. “She bears his scent.”
Well, damn.
After last night, Isobel knew very well whose scent she bore—and would continue to bear for a couple more days, despite any number of showers. No wonder she’d sensed something familiar about these two. She studied the straight line of their noses. She could see the resemblance.
Lefty stared at Isobel in disbelief. “You sure?” he hissed. His tone was flatter, less rhythmic than his brother’s.
“It’s been years, but I’d know the lad’s scent anywhere.”
“Liam would never hang out with a cat.”
Isobel’s smile turned as sharp as her blade. “It’s a step up in taste, for a wolf.”
Lefty stiffened, but Righty raised a hand to hold him back. “Where’s Liam?” Righty demanded. “When did you last see him?”
“So many questions,” Isobel murmured. “Yet we haven’t even been formally introduced. Your name, please.”
“Where is he?” Lefty roared.
She folded her arms. “I’d say if this Liam you speak of doesn’t want to be found, you should adhere to his wishes.”
“He’s our cousin,” said Righty. “Love the lad, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s … not well.” He tapped his temple.
Isobel bristled, and that was her mistake. The wolves immediately perked up at that subtle sign of tension.
“We only have his best interests at heart,” Righty coaxed smoothly, even as Lefty’s eyes gleamed gold with triumph. “We just want our cousin to come home.”
“I think your cousin is exactly where he wants to be.” Until the next time he runs.
“We’re wasting time.” Lefty advanced, nostrils flaring. “Talk, cat.”
Isobel saw the move long before he made it, but she waited anyway. She needed an excuse, after all.
Lefty seized her arm and lunged for her throat. She twisted in his hold and slammed her foot into his knee. The loud snap was followed by his scream of pain. He crumpled onto the sidewalk.
Righty instantly tackled her, attempting to hurl her against the store’s brick facade, but she grabbed him by the wrists and swung around, using the momentum to slam him against the wall instead. The impact did nothing more than knock the breath out of him, but Isobel followed it up with two fingers jabbed in the base of his throat. He crashed to the ground.
He lay flat on his stomach, gasping. She grabbed his arm at the same time that she smashed her heel into his shoulder, right where ball met socket, dislocating it.
Righty writhed on the ground, shuddering wordlessly with pain. Lefty was still curled on his side, clutching his knee and swearing profusely.
Isobel approached the older of the two. She knelt down, one knee pressed meaningfully on his lower back. Gathering a fistful of hair, she pulled his head back, her lips by his ear.
“I could charge you with assault of a Council agent,” she murmured. It was a lie; technically she was on leave and had no authority, but they didn’t have to know. “That’ll put you in our cells for at least a couple of months. You could do with a cooling-off period.”
Righty’s breath came in short, sibilant wheezes. He wouldn’t be able to speak for a while.
She tugged harder on his hair. “You’re not from around here, so I’ll clarify matters for you: we do things differently in Bloodhaven. Your pack doesn’t run this city.” Her tone turned low, deadly, not the least bit teasing: “Go home, wolf.”
She released him and stood up. She watched, unmoving, as Righty eventually stumbled to his feet. He shot her a dirty look before dragging his brother with him. Both of them hobbled away, the younger man still spitting out profanities in a fervent flow.
Isobel waited until they turned the corner. The sidewalk was clear of pedestrians,
everyone having decided to give the two wolves—and Isobel—a wide berth. The mother with the stroller had even crossed the street, trotting hastily as she cast Isobel a frightened glance.
“Aunt Iz?”
Isobel turned around. A wide-eyed Naley stood by the store entrance. The owner herself was there as well, resting her hands protectively on top of the girl’s shoulders.
“Mrs. Hooper said they were here before,” Naley whispered.
“Yesterday,” confirmed the older woman. “After Liam and this li’l one here dropped off my cabinet. Those two came by not long afterward, saying they’d tracked Liam here.”
Not good. Isobel frowned.
“They asked a lot of questions. I told them dozens of people visit my store every day, but they took one look at some of the things on display and recognized his work.”
Isobel checked Mrs. Hooper for signs of injury, but she looked impeccably coiffed. “Did they threaten you?” Aggressive shifter behavior was valid grounds for lodging a nuisance complaint with the Council.
“They tried, but I don’t put up with that sort of nonsense around here.”
Isobel quashed a smile.
“At any rate,” sniffed Mrs. Hooper, “I’m a businesswoman. I’m not about to give up my best vendor to a pair of ill-mannered thugs.”
“Thank you,” Isobel said sincerely. “You have ours and Liam’s gratitude.”
Mrs. Hooper paused. “I am, as I mentioned, a businesswoman.” The arch look she gave Isobel was very significant.
Isobel was no fool. She got the message.
She stepped past the threshold, putting an arm around Naley as she led them all into the store. “Come, Mrs. Hooper. I believe you have a rocking chair you’d like to sell me.”
*
The sun was beginning its descent over the sky, painting the treetops a brilliant white-gold and the patches of grass a dark crimson. In twenty minutes, the mountains would cast their shadows over the ground, a massive dark cloak that would obscure the earth and send critters scurrying for their dens. The shadows would glide along the landscape as sinuously as a serpent, slide as delicately as a silk robe over a naked woman’s skin.
