The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Primal Passions
Copyright © 2009 Stephani Hecht
ISBN: 978-1-55487-386-9
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
Look for us online at:
www.extasybooks.com
Primal Passions
The Lost Shifter Series Book 1
By
Stephani Hecht
Dedication
To Joie. Thanks for all your help in researching felines.
Chapter One
There would be bloodshed tonight, of that, Logan McDurin was sure. He just hoped it wasn’t his. Sucking in deep on the cigarette he didn’t like, but needed to mask his scent, he warily eyed the rundown liquor store. Out front, his target a white box-shaped ambulance. Or rather the individual inside the emergency vehicle. A twenty-five year old paramedic who was just about to have his whole reality turned on its ass. It sucked to be that poor sap.
Logan took refuge at the side of an abandoned meth lab. The ground was littered with empty bottles, used condoms and needles. In other words, it was about as far away from the Ritz as you could get. Why he had volunteered for this wild goose chase of a mission he would never know. He must have an undiscovered masochist streak.
Looking up into the sky, his lips formed a silent prayer that he wouldn’t see the dark outlines of the Ravens. Given how shitty this assignment was going, them showing up would be the perfect way to end it. Even through the pitch-black night sky he would still be able to spot them, thanks to his heightened shifter senses. Nothing yet. That didn’t mean the winged bastards weren’t coming though. He had no doubt the Ravens were on their way. The only question was when they would pop up.
The passenger door of the rig opened and a tall man hopped out. Saying something to the driver that Logan didn’t bother to try and overhear, the male slammed the door and started for the store.
He wore dark blue cargo pants and a matching windbreaker that had the words of his ambulance company embossed, in bright yellow print, on the back. A smaller embroidered patch on the breast couldn’t be seen, but Logan knew what it said.
Jacyn.
The paramedic walked with a predator’s gait. Smooth and measured, like a feline. It left no doubt in Logan’s mind that if cornered, Jacyn would be more than capable of fighting his way out. He had brown hair that Logan knew would be a mix of dark and light hues. The man had it styled short, but not enough that when a slight breeze blew past it didn’t mess it up a bit.
As that same small wind blew by Logan, he lifted his face and breathed in. He would be better able to track Jacyn if he had his scent. Instead, he got a whiff of something bad. Acrid. Fetid. All too familiar. “Fuck!” Logan snarled aloud, although there was nobody around to hear.
The all too familiar stench of the Ravens was now thick in the air. Frantic, heart pounding, and adrenaline jacking through his body, he scanned his gaze all over. His stomach dropped when he saw the source.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of the ambulance, wearing the same uniform as Jacyn was a Raven. In human form, he had inky black hair slicked to the side. Even from a distance, Logan saw the all too familiar dark brown, almost black eyes, and pale skin that every Raven had.
Shit that answered his question about when the enemy would be showing up. They were already here. They had been on the scene the entire time and were already closing in on Jacyn, who had no idea what kind of danger was looming. How could he when he had no clue of what or who he really was?
Stepping back further into the shadows of the house, Logan pulled out his cell to make a call. Home base needed to know just how bad things were about to get.
* * * *
Jacyn Adams was just walking under the weak light from the post on the center of the parking lot when he got a funny feeling that someone was watching him. Turning quickly, body tense and fingers going for his handheld radio, all he saw was the deserted street.
Still, the strange, prickly sensation at the back of his neck persisted. Shaking his head, he decided it must be the stress of the job getting to him. There was nobody there but the neighborhood bum, Texas. Sure Tex was stinky, loud and drunk, but unless he tried to get frisky again, he posed no danger to Jacyn. Turning around, Jacyn went into the store. “Hey, Buzzy,” Jacyn called out over the ringing of the bell above the door. The place was so seedy and old it didn’t warrant a more modern electronic one.
“Jacyn.” The middle-aged woman smiled, showing off the gaps left from her two missing front teeth. “I was beginning to think you weren’t working tonight.”
“Where else would I go? You make the best coffee in LA.” Going over to the ancient caffeine machine, he poured a cup and, without adding anything to it, took a sip. A satisfied moan slipped passed his lips. He hadn’t lied when he said she made the best joe in the city. Hell, hers was probably the best brew in all of California.
“You’re just saying that because I don’t charge you.” She chuckled, the sound more rattles than laughter, thanks to her lung disease.
Even if she hadn’t shared her life story with Jacyn, he would have known it had been a hard one. In her forties, she looked much older, her face sallow and lined. Her hair was frizzy and grayer than brown and it looked like it had never been professionally styled. The nails on her hands were thick, cracked and yellowed and there were permanent burn marks on her fingers from the crack pipe. Jacyn really didn’t see all those flaws anymore. Buzzy was his friend and he didn’t have too many of those.
“I was really getting worried though,” she chastised. “It’s been two days since I’ve seen you and I know you never take time off.”
“I haven’t been feeling too hot.” He leaned against the counter just across from her and made himself comfortable. They had passed away many hours this way. Her working the register, him killing time between calls. He didn’t mind it though. Buzzy was fun to talk to. Even more, the presence of his ambulance deterred any would-be robbers. While the store wasn’t in the worst part of LA, it wasn’t in the best either and he felt somewhat protective over her.
“Have you gone to the doctors?” she asked, her bloodshot eyes widening in concern.
“Nah, just some aches and pains.” Jacyn shrugged off her concern. He didn’t feel it necessary to tell her that he’d already been to several doctors and not one of them could figure out what was causing the strange symptoms of headaches, muscle pain and strange nightmares.
“Oh, baby. Are you sure?” she persisted.
“I think I was just tired and needed a day off to catch up on my sleep.” He wasn’t used to having others worry about his welfare and felt uncomfortable with it now.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, it’s no big deal. I never get sick.” Which, before now, had been true. Even when he had been a ki
d shuffled around foster homes with nobody to really look after him, he’d never caught so much as a case of the sniffles. It made what was happening to him now, scary and disconcerting.
“I see they stuck you with a new partner.” She jerked her head in the direction of the rig.
“Yeah, his name is Patrick. Nobody wanted to work with him and I drew the short straw. So lucky me gets to suffer through his sour ass for twelve hours.” Jacyn sighed.
“That bad?” Buzzy cackled.
“He’s moody, doesn’t talk much, plus he smells funny.”
“Ewe…” She wrinkled her nose. “Smells funny how?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to describe, just off somehow.” He took a sip of coffee and out of habit, scanned the parking lot. What he saw out there, made his heart hammer in fear. A trio of dark-haired, leather clad, giants walking toward the store. They moved with a lethal determination that told Jacyn they weren’t coming for the coffee. That and the guns they all whipped out of their long leather coats.
“Run,” he yelled at Buzzy as he raised his hand to his radio. Pushing the button, he was dismayed to hear a heavy static that told him help wouldn’t be coming that way. He looked over to the rig, hoping his partner had caught all this. From there he could call in on the ambulance’s main radio. Patrick may be a grumpy, self-centered prick, but even he could handle something like radioing in a robbery in progress. Right? Surely, Jacyn could count on him to do that. Instead, Jacyn saw the jackass getting out and pulling his own gun, joining the approaching goons
What the fuck? “He is so not getting a good evaluation after this,” Jacyn huffed under his breath. He’d always used humor to aid him when he was afraid and right now, he could use any help he could get since he was scared shitless.
Reaching over the counter, he grabbed the landline and cussed when dead air met him. Great! Now, short of him starting a fire and sending out smoke signals, there was no way to get help. He noticed Buzzy still standing there. Frozen in place with that whole deer-in-the-headlights thing going. He gave her a shove. “Move! Run!”
The air rang with gunfire. The large front pane window shattered, glass and product from shelves went flying. Jacyn ducked for cover behind the coffee station and prayed that Buzzy had taken refuge, too.
Nothing made sense. If it was just a robbery, then why call attention by shooting the place up first? Plus, how could another paramedic be involved? Sure the pay sucked, but not enough to warrant committing a felony.
Since the initial burst of gunfire, there had been nothing else and now a heavy silence hung in the air. Jacyn strained, hoping to hear something that would tell him that Buzzy was still living. His heart hammered when the sound of boots crunching on glass reached him instead.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” one of the attackers sang out.
Jacyn pressed his back to the counter and tucked his knees tight into his chest, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. While he was frantic to go to Buzzy to make sure she was okay, he knew that to move would be a death wish.
“You can’t hide from us, kitty,” another oily voice chimed in. “I can smell you. Taste your fear.”
A single shot rang out, the bullet hitting the counter inches above his head. Jacyn watched as a coffee cup fell to the ground, rolled on its rim before coming to a rest on its side. It was so surreal, that he noticed every second of its descent in intricate detail. Maybe because a part of him sensed it could be the last thing he ever saw.
More silence, the only noise was his breathing and the sounds of glass crunching under boots. More gunfire. Jacyn ducked his head down further, but no bullets flew his way this time. When there a sharp yelp of pain from one of the gunmen, Jacyn knew that there was a new player in the game and this one appeared to be on his side.
Ducking his head around the coffee island, he expected to see uniformed PD, but what he found was anything but. Dressed in a long dark leather coat like the other guys, this one looked even more dangerous if possible. At the same time, he had a sexy allure to him that even under the threat of death, Jacyn couldn’t help but notice.
With short dark hair and well over six feet of solid muscles, he looked like he had walked straight out of a B action movie. Jacyn gaped in shock when he saw all the weapons strapped to the newcomer’s chest. Draped over him were guns, knives and possibly grenades. Where in the hell had he come from? No cop Jacyn had ever met packed that kind of heat.
“I should have known he would send you,” Patrick snarled at the newcomer.
Jacyn felt a start of shock. It was pretty obvious that his partner knew dark, handsome and weaponed up. They weren’t cuddly buddies either because Patrick’s lip curled before he blasted away at the newcomer. The dark-haired stranger moved so fast that he became a blur as he took cover in the short hallway that led to the bathrooms.
“I thought you said the others hadn’t found him yet?” one of the gunman yelled to Patrick.
“They haven’t,” Patrick sneered. “It’s just Logan. He’s tracking the same scent we are. He’s a scout so there is no more. If you can’t take out one feline, then I’ll kill you myself.”
Using the distraction, Jacyn prepared to leave his shelter to see if Buzzy needed help. Not daring to get up all the way, he instead skittered across the floor on his hands and knees. It seemed to take forever, the register so far away, but finally he was there. A waist-high wall surrounded all four sides of the register and he burst through the swinging door.
As soon as he got in, he knew it was too late. A thick layer of blood covered the dirty, cracked tile. He quickly lifted his hands, but they still got covered in the gore and he wished he had taken the time to put on his latex gloves. Jacyn stared down at his bloodstained fingers in horror for a second before his training kicked in and he clambered in the rest of the way.
Buzzy’s eyes were open, her pupils fixed and dilated. Her body curled on its side, he could see the back of her skull had been blown open. If he could somehow manage to get her to the rig and his equipment, there still wasn’t jack he could do for her. His heart clenched in regret. If only he had managed to get her to take cover sooner, then maybe she would still be alive.
He jumped when someone else took cover in the register area. Jacyn spun on the balls of his feet, preparing to defend himself. Since he was still crouched, the movement was awkward and he ended up falling on his ass. He moaned in disgust when he felt the warm, sticky liquid soak into his clothing.
It was the lone guy who had been fighting it out with the gunmen. Jacyn relaxed some. Then he spotted a long sword in the guy’s hand and the fear returned with a hard rush. The blade was sharp, the metal shiny. A lump of terror formed in Jacyn’s throat when he noticed the fresh gore coating the blade. Staring at it, he wondered if maybe they were down to one gunman—well two if you counted his jackass-former partner. Maybe Jacyn got lucky and the blood dripping down the blade was Patrick’s. It would serve him right for going all Glock on the store.
The new guy turned and Jacyn found himself locked in the green-eyed gaze. Even if he hadn’t been carrying more weapons than a gangster, he still would have looked menacing. The hard line of his jaw was set and unforgiving, his lips pressed together tightly, as if he’d never smiled. Even though the guy was hunched down, too, Jacyn could still see the hard muscles molded by his leather pants and tight fitting shirt. A strange thrill went through Jacyn’s body that had nothing to do with fear or adrenaline. Great, leave it to him to get turned on by a hot body while in the middle of a gunfight. He must be losing it because while the guy was sexy as hell, he had probably just killed two people.
He looked dangerous, mean and had a frigging bloody weapon in his hand. Jacyn realized that his savior was every bit a threat as the gunmen. As if answering his musing, there was another round of shots. A display of lottery tickets took a hit and exploded. Jacyn ducked and covered his head with his arms.
“We need to get out of here,” the giant taking cover
with him whispered.
The get-out-of-here part Jacyn was all for, it was the we he wasn’t sure of. He still nodded and acted all for one though. He could use all the help he could get. Once they got to the doors, he’d just make a break for it and take cover in his rig. There he had the radio and he’d call dispatch for help.
“My name’s Logan and your brother sent me,” the stranger said.
Again, Jacyn nodded, even though he knew for sure the guy was crazy or had him confused for someone else. As an orphan, Jacyn had no family. He sure as hell didn’t have a brother who would hate him enough to send a homicidal meathead after him.
“Okay, just tell me what to do,” Jacyn replied. Once he got out though, he was going to put as much distance between himself and this The Rock wannabe as possible. Then he was going to do whatever it took to pay these assholes back for killing Buzzy.
Chapter Two
The little punk had plans of running. Logan knew that by the way Jacyn’s gaze shifted over to his rig as he bit his bottom lip apprehensively. With that reaction, he may as well have taken an ad out in a newspaper, announcing his intentions.
Logan decided not to call him out on it yet. Right now, his main concern was getting the jaguar out alive. Once they had reached safety, he would just pick up the ungrateful jerk and haul him away if need be.
He still had his sword out, that being his weapon of choice. While it may be easier to take someone out from a distance with a gun, Logan had been fighting with a blade for so long it felt like a part of him. Not only that, the easiest way to kill a Raven was to decapitate it and nothing did the job better than a long sword. Inching his way to the door, Logan paused long enough to take his Glock out and hand it to Jacyn. “You know how to use this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Primal Passions Page 1
