Shifters Forever Worlds Mega Box- Volume 2

by Elle Thorne

  Her ex turned her father in. Was it the ex’s idea to let him kill her father? Or was that Montez’s decision?

  “So how did…” What was he supposed to say? How did it unfold? How did she find out?

  "My dad and I always sent each other video grams. I found out he was dead and then saw this in my email. I couldn’t watch it.”

  He glanced at the time stamp on the video’s file name. Not quite a month ago.

  “And then one day, you watched it?”

  “I thought I could handle it. I missed him. I needed to hear his last message to me.” A torrent of tears streamed down her face. What a fucked up way to find out her fiancé killed her father.

  Then again, was there any good way to find that out?

  “So how do you get from seeing the video to being on the run?”

  He had a feeling he knew that answer to that. She was a spitfire.

  “I confronted him.”

  Just as Cross had figured. He shut down the laptop. Ariadne didn’t need to view that pain any more.

  “He tried to kill me. I got away from him. Hit him across the face with the fireplace poker. Left a huge gash. Had to leave town after that. But they have traces on my credit cards. My bank accounts are frozen. Ben’s been on my trail. I’ll never have peace.”

  “And Mae brought you here.” That was all he could think of to say.

  Mae brought her here, not knowing her history or the danger she was in. Better Ariadne was with him than at the hair salon. There was no way Cross wanted to think of the women in Mae’s shop having to deal with mob thugs.

  Someone would have to take out the ex-fiancé.

  Guess that someone is me.

  Not that Cross wasn’t familiar with this line of work. It was what he was trained to do.

  But someone needs to get Montez under control, and it was unlikely that Montez left the comfort of his New York home to come chase a girl down who was a witness to something someone else did.

  I can’t very well be in New York handling Montez while I’m trying to figure out where the ex-fiancé is.

  He glanced at the dark computer screen. The image of her father’s murder fresh in his mind. “I can help.”

  Her thigh was pressed against his on the couch, the spot where their flesh touched, even though separated by fabric, felt like it was giving off sparks of electricity.

  He looked at their legs, marveling at the chemistry between them. He wondered if she felt the attraction, if her human side could appreciate how the bear in him had zeroed in on her as his mate.

  She reached for another paper towel and wiped her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot, and the gold in them was vivid.

  Ariadne was making frantic patterns on her thigh with her fingertips, drawing the same random shapes over and over.

  He put his hand on hers, more to calm her than anything, but the surge of energy that passed between their flesh seared his skin.

  “Why the DOJ instead of the cops in New York, where Montez lives? That’s where you were from too?”

  “Too many of the cops are in Montez’s back pocket. I can’t trust them.” She turned her eyes away from him, toward the window. “Cross,” she whispered. “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “You can trust me.”

  She left her hand beneath his, leaning toward him, her body softening, relaxing.

  “When was the last time you slept?”

  “Not more than an hour here and there, not since I saw the video.”

  Damn. That explained the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ve got some contacts. Let me reach out.”

  “Your contacts… do they have anything to do with the communication room you have in there?” She indicated the hallway.

  He hesitated.

  “No lies. You promised.” She reminded him.

  And he knew it was important not to lie to her. “I can’t answer that. My work is confidential.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Hey.” He tried for a light smile. “At least I’m not lying.”

  She nodded. Her sandwich was half-eaten; her eyes were heavy-lidded. A nap was due.

  “I’ll stand guard. I’ve got some calls to make, why don’t you take a short nap. I swear it. I won’t go to sleep and I won’t do anything with the video. I won’t send an email; I won’t do anything.

  She leaned back. Her back rested against his side.

  Cross monitored her breathing and her pulse. When he was sure she was asleep, he dug his phone out of his pocket and called Mae.

  She picked up on the first ring.

  “How is she?”

  He glanced down at her. In repose, her face was almost angelic. Cupid bow lips, the bottom one much fuller.

  Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath. His body responded.

  His bear snarled.

  Goddamn. This isn’t the time, he scolded his bear.

  “She’s resting. Guess she hasn’t slept much in the last month.”

  “Has she told you anything? Because Fiona said she knew nothing about what was going on.”

  “Yeah. I got the story.”

  Cross related the facts to Mae.

  “Oh, no. God, no. She didn’t witness that.” Mae’s tone was horrified. There was murmuring on her end while she recanted some details to Doc. Then she said, “What can I do?”

  “Since you’re still friends with Mikhail Romanoff, I need you to get some help from him. Montez has to be taken out. She won’t be allowed to live if he’s not.”

  “What about her ex-fiancé?”

  “I’m heading out in the morning. I’ll drop her off at your place if that’s okay. Then I’ll go find that bastard.”

  “Cross?”

  He didn’t like the tone in Mae’s voice.

  “I heard there was a large group of men with weapons that traveled through the valley. I was told they came in on the main highway and left the same way. Maybe she shook them or fooled them? Maybe they think she’s passed through?”

  “Maybe.” He’d never been that lucky. But perhaps Ariadne was.

  He was tired of the bloodshed he’d dealt in his time in the service. If he didn’t have to kill again anytime soon, that would be just fine with him.

  “I’ve told Kane, Tanner, and Teague about the men that passed through. I’ll give them a short briefing on the situation.”

  “I’ll still bring her down tomorrow, maybe mid-morning, then go follow up on these passers-through. Just to be sure.”

  “Probably not a bad idea. How are things with her?”

  “What do you mean, Aunt Mae?” Damn, he knew exactly what she meant, though a part of him wasn’t eager to accept it. He’d never believed in the shifter fated mates thing.

  Ever.

  He’d never experienced it.

  Ever.

  “She’s the one for you. It’s clear from the energy you two exude and from the aura around you.

  “Aw come on with that witchery stuff. You don’t believe it.”

  “You know very well that witchery exists. But I’m no witch. Just a very perceptive woman.” Mae laughed.

  The problem, as Cross saw it, was Mae was never wrong when it came to mates. She’d always pegged others’ mates, long before they’d even known themselves.

  That was them.

  This is me.

  Cross knew when it came to himself, he didn’t conform too well.

  He looked down at Ariadne. Her cheeks had a touch of color on them, she no longer had a corpse-like cast to her.

  He couldn’t imagine her not being tucked in his arms like this.

  Always.

  His bear made a chuffing sound he’d never made before Cross met Ariadne.

  Goddammit.

  Not you too.

  His bear grumbled a response, then settled into a watchful state, pulling Cross into a slumber.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ariadne’s eyes opened. A lamp nea
rby cast just enough light to reveal her surroundings. She’d actually slept. For the first time in a long time.

  A rhythmic throb, strong and unyielding reverberated in her mind, matching her own pulse.

  It took her a second to realize the throb was coming from the man whose arms she was sleeping in. It was his heart, beating strongly, the throb almost pulsing through her own body. She’d have sworn their heartbeats were synchronized, if she didn’t think that it was far too weird.

  His chest, so wide and full of muscles was the perfect pillow. His face, that of a warrior, had settled into neutrality during sleep. She studied the planes of his cheekbones, the strong chiseled jawline with a pulse’s tic beating against his skin.

  She thought of his scars. He was a warrior, but what kind? What kind of person had the set up like he had in his computer room?

  She snuggled in deeper. The feeling of safety overcoming everything else. She closed her eyes.

  Home.

  That was her final thought before slumber took over again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cross woke up. The sun was going to be rising soon. His bear woke him up every day just before dawn. Of course, today would be no different.

  The warmth of Ariadne’s body against his was too easy to get used to.

  Odd. Him. The one who’d never liked to cuddle.

  He should get up, make coffee, get breakfast, but it was far too comfortable here.

  The coffee table had shifted. He’d need to move it back before anyone found out his secret.

  He eyed the oversized low coffee table, thought of the trap door beneath. The door would lead to a tunnel. That tunnel, in turn, lead to a multitude of tunnels.

  The tunnels predated Cross. Hell they predated most everyone in Bear Canyon Valley. They’d been the project of Grant’s grandfather.

  Native American.

  A grizzly shifter.

  He’d taken many steps to ensure the safety of the shifters in Bear Canyon Valley.

  Each on different mountain peaks, Cross’s cabin and his brothers’ cabins, all had tunnels beneath them. Before the three brothers had all joined the Shifter Council’s Compliance Unit as Enforcers, they’d each worked, together and separately, on their tunnels, making sure they were in good shape and adequately stocked for emergencies.

  He eyed the slim crevice that peeked out at him from beneath the coffee table’s leg. He’d move the table over a little. He didn’t need prying eyes. And at this stage, not even Ariadne’s.

  Ariadne shifted slightly, nuzzling him with her forehead, tucking herself deeper into his embrace. He breathed in her serenity. It was lulling.

  Until he heard the sound.

  Pine needles and leaves crunching.

  Seems we aren’t alone.

  He went on full alert, instantly.

  At the same instant, his phone vibrated on the seat next to him. Snatching it before it could wake her with its incessant, yet silent, vibrating buzz, he looked at the screen.

  A text.

  He wasn’t familiar with the number, but knew instantly who it was from when he read the message.

  Buck slipped out of his enclosure and headed straight for the mountain.

  Well, fuck. That was a complication he didn’t need.

  Poor Buck. He’s probably trying to find his mother.

  Now he had a dilemma. Go hunt down the dirt bag who wanted to kill Ariadne, or find Buck.

  He’d take Ariadne down to safety in the valley.

  Find Buck.

  Deliver him to Mac.

  Then he’d hunt down the bastard ex-fiancé.

  He didn’t realize he’d stirred until Ariadne lifted her head.

  First order of business, the crunching sound. Could be nothing. Then again, what if it was Buck?

  Or worse, Ariadne’s ex. Though how would he find this place?

  “I’ll be right back,” he told her. Her eyes had that unfocused, dreamy look to them.

  “Where you going?”

  “Heard something. Hang tight.”

  He moved out from beneath her.

  “What could it be?”

  “Maybe nothing. I’ll be right back.”

  Glass shattered.

  Wood splintered.

  An explosion sounded, making his ears ring.

  The room lit up as if countless flashbulbs had gone off.

  Stun grenade?

  “Get down,” Cross shouted at Ariadne, pushing her toward the wood floor between the coffee table and the couch.

  “He found me.” Her voice was low, but had a steely resolve coupled with desperation. “It won’t end until he kills me.”

  Or I kill him first.

  Cross sprinted for the side door, not willing to go out the front. It was the window by the front door they’d sent the grenade through. Slipping out, it didn’t take him long to get his bearings.

  The area was teeming with men. Maybe a half-dozen, camo-ed and hiding. Perhaps a few more, spread out further back. His shifter hearing picked them up in the trees.

  He made a cloud of dust beneath his feet as he took off for the cover of the trees, then used them to cover him as he circled around to the front door, where he figured they’d try to enter.

  His mind raced, trying to process the scene. The wind carried the scent of several men. They were heading his way. As an Enforcer, Cross kept his shifting skills at the ready. Not to say that it was painless, because, damn, it would never be painless. The process of turning his six-foot, four-inch body from a human to a massive grizzly could only be described as excruciating.

  He’d need to be his bear to complete the plan that was semi-formed in his mind. His solitary goal was to protect Ariadne.

  At all costs.

  He gave in to his grizzly’s push and braced himself for the beast’s rush to transformation. A massive pulsing began deep within his body, the bear’s heart, large and powerful collided into Cross’s torso, his ribcage cracked, making his body arch. A searing pain in his face preceded the widening and lengthening of his jaw. Grizzly canines erupted in an agonizing burst. A snarl ripped from Cross’s throat, sounding more like a bear already.

  His career made shifting quickly imperative, and Cross was damned good at bringing his bear into existence. Seconds later, he raised a mighty bear head, sniffed, and catapulted himself toward the aggressors.

  “Shit!” One man’s voice came from behind the trees. “It’s a goddamned bear.”

  A pop sounded, barely loud enough for human ears to pick up. A stinging sensation in Cross’s shoulder told him he’d been shot.

  The popping sound?

  Cross put that together immediately.

  The bastards were using silencers.

  Definitely not your average thugs. These guys were sent to kill.

  Ariadne. They were sent to kill her.

  A man stepped out from behind a nearby tree, firearm raised.

  He pulled the trigger. The shot stung Cross but he didn’t lose his momentum. He charged the man, took one razor-sharp swipe at the thug’s vulnerably exposed throat, and severed his jugular.

  Another popping sound.

  Bark flew, wood chips scattering.

  Whoever shot at his bear missed, within seconds that thug was dead as well, a quick and bloody mess left behind as Cross scoured the trees for his next target.

  Another explosion came from the house.

  Another stun grenade?

  Worse?

  Were they going to storm the cabin? Find her?

  He had to get back to Ariadne. There was no way he could protect her from this much firepower. He’d have to shift back.

  To say that it drained a shifter to morph was an understatement. Some shifters could shift twice in a period of an hour. An adept shifter could even do it three times, but the average shifter couldn’t handle more than one.

  Thankfully, Cross had never been called on to shift three times in rapid succession.

  He shifted back into his hu
man body. His clothes shifted with him, as they always did with his kind, except instead of simply being the usual amount of rumpled, he now had two bullet holes surrounded by crimson rings.

  Luckily, he’d been in his bear form when he was shot. It wouldn’t have been so easy to walk away if he’d been in his human body.

  He gauged the best way to get to Ariadne and headed back toward the side window, careful not to be noticed. It wasn’t long before he was inside. He chanced a glance out the window. Men were approaching. The thugs were being cautious, which was a lot better than having them rush the cabin.

  Ariadne was still on the floor, exactly where he’d left her.

  Except she was unconscious.

  Well, fuck.

  He checked her. She had a pulse.

  Time to get her the hell out of here.

  He adjusted the coffee table quickly, making sure it covered the seam. He really should nail the damn thing in place.

  He’d never seen a reason to before; no one visited his cabin.

  He sure as hell saw a reason now.

  Table in place, he reached behind the couch and pressed a button disguised as a knot in the rustic wood wall.

  He heard the soft sound of a motor churning to life, and the coffee table rose, as if levitating, brought up by the system Cross had installed right after he’d acquired the land, more than a decade ago. The table shifted to the right, allowing access to the stairway that led to the tunnel system.

  Hefting Ariadne into a fireman’s carry, wasting not a second, Cross entered the dark hallway. They’d never installed lighting. Shifters didn’t need it, since they saw in the dark as well as they did in the light.

  Once he’d gone far enough on the staircase, he pressed a button on the stone wall, making the coffee table return to its place and sealing the tunnel off from the rest of the world. To be extra sure, he then disabled the motor, so that no one could even accidentally enter from above.

  Taking one second to heave a sigh of relief, he glanced down at Ariadne. He felt for her pulse, just to be sure.

  Strong.

  That’s when he saw the laceration on her temple. Must have happened after the second grenade.