“Mmm, what doesn’t belong?” Jaz stood back, her blaster ready.
He edged forward and pushed the door. It swung open without a sound. He stopped. Usually when something was too easy, it screamed trap. Jaz met his gaze and nodded, pulling out another blaster as he did the same.
“I’m on point,” she murmured, stepping in front of Xylvar, and moving with care down the stone hall. Another door, with several switches sitting beside it on the wall, stood in her way. Eyes locked with his, she put her ear to the door. A quick nod told him she heard noises behind it. She lifted a blaster, met his gaze for a steady second, and pushed on the handle.
The door didn’t move. Xylvar came behind her and looked at the lock, pulled out an old-fashioned lock pick. She shook her head, shifting to the side so he could do the honors.
A second later, a soft snick said they were in. Blaster raised, he shoved the door open, threw his chair back onto two wheels, and spun into the room, ready to kill everyone and anything that moved.
A row of thick metal barred cells held six Crea. In one, a Crea beast male paced mindlessly. Morgan, in the process of electro-frying a female Crea, slid the long pole out of the bars and spun, the electric blue arc crackling with menace. With his other hand, he unsheathed a pocket-sized blaster.
Jaz, lips peeled back in an evil grin that made Xylvar proud, blasted Morgan in the upper arm, then aimed for the other. “Drop the cattle prod, deadshit, and fall to your knees.” Xylvar wheeled behind, blasting the locks on the cells one by one. A large Crea male from the first cell rushed out, kicking open the cell next to him, following behind Xylvar’s blaster work to do the same to each door.
The cell door to the pacing beast flew open. He stopped pacing, sniffed the air and stared at the opening, then turned his head and, with eyes of cold gold, focused on Morgan and sprang.
He landed on all fours eight feet from Morgan, came to a hunched stand, flexed and rolled all his gold-encased muscles, and stalked forward.
Morgan stumbled back, throwing his arms up in front of himself. “Help me.”
Another Crea male darted out his door, turned beast midair, and fell on the preacher, knocking him to the floor. He grabbed the man’s arm and started to twist.
Morgan’s scream when his arm popped out of its socket sounded like the stuff of nightmares. He let out another soul-shattering scream as the muscles and tendons tore, and finally the second beast held up Morgan’s ripped off arm.
…leaving Morgan thrashing in his own blood while it pumped onto the cement floor.
The first male in beast shoved the second out of the way, grabbed Morgan’s bloody torso from behind, and snapped his back. The second dived for the priest’s legs, and together they twisted his body while Morgan shrieked, blood bubbling and spraying out of his mouth.
When his body tore apart, he stopped screaming.
Entrails, body parts, and blood hit the floor before the two Crea dropped the preacher’s pieces to the ground. After a brief pause, the first beast dug his claws into the dead man’s neck and tore out his throat.
Jaz’s silver swirled in a flash flood of release. She showed her teeth in a cold grin while she pointed to the blood covering floor. “There’s silver in his blood.”
Xylvar stared at the spreading pool. “Well, that’s unexpected. Silver dust. Probably fifty percent Eli.” He shook his head. “He hated his own kind.”
“And so hated himself.”
Xylvar wheeled to the dead preacher’s head. His glasses lay off to one side, so Xylvar picked them up and looked through them. “I thought these lenses were off, and obscenely thick. They’re clear glass, but made to distort anyone’s view of his eyes and the silver they’d reveal.” He rolled backward, grabbed the Father’s blood-soaked hair and lifted the head. Peeling open an eyelid, he swiped out a brown contact lens. Underneath were dead, pale blue, and lightly silvered irises.
The first male, who’d been beast when they arrived, sniffed at Jaz, then backed away.
“It’s all right David. You’re safe now, and so is Monique.”
“Your agents?” Xylvar asked. She nodded turning to look at the other prisoners. Xylvar turned to the male who kicked open the cell doors. “How long has the male been turned?”
“Not sure of time. Few weeks. He came in with that female.” He pointed a Crea who’d left her cell and gone in to the one with the unconscious female.
Jaz turned, gasped, and carefully blanked her face.
“Damn.” Xylvar agreed. Monique was her friend, and she looked truly awful.
Monique looked over. “I’ll be okay. But David, I don’t know. He didn’t deal with this well, turned within two days of us arriving here.”
“Ah, shit.” Since he’d been turned so long, it would take a lot of time and pain to bring him down. And mentally he might never be the same. Being long gone beast could mean the beast started to get the upper hand rather than the human.
Monique stood, filthy underwear her only clothing. “How did you guys know we were here? I thought we’d never be rescued.”
“We didn’t. But we’ve been tracking this dead guy for weeks.” Jaz kicked Morgan’s foot. “We knew he had other cells where he drained Crea and Eli for their blood. We did, unfortunately, want him alive to give us the other compound addresses.”
Monique walked over to a cupboard. Pulled out an old notepad. “I believe this gives the whereabouts of several. He used to boast about how an old man who died left behind this map of old bunkers he’d built during the Worldwide Wars.” Xylvar took the notepad, flicked through the yellowed and brittle pages before slipping it into a slot in his chair.
Jaz walked toward David with slow steps.
Xylvar put his blaster in his lap. Friend or not the beast could kill her in a second. “Go Slow. You don’t want to rush him or put him further on edge, or he’ll freak.” As an already-turned male, he could snap her neck before she had time to turn into her own smaller, silver beast.
Monique helped another Crea female out of her cell. “This is Catie.”
Xylvar glanced at the female who looked ready to faint. “She injured?”
“No. She’ll be okay. We just need decent food, some sun, and freedom.”
David shuddered and let out a warning roar. Jaz back tracked fast going to Monique’s side. She checked Catie then put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it took us so long to find you.”
“I’m just incredibly relieved that someone was looking for us. We didn’t know if anyone even knew we’d gone missing, since we were deep undercover. I think there’s a traitor in the agency, and someone told the kidnappers where we were staying.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure how many, but one of them is Rich.”
“Rich—our Rich?”
“Shitty, isn’t it? Saw and heard him conspiring with our dead guy on the floor.”
Monique stared at Morgan’s remains and screwed her face up. “His death was too easy.” Tears in her eyes she looked at David. “We’re going to find Rich, and tear him apart.”
Jaz edged closer to David again. “Hey, David. You’re safe now. We’ll get you to a nearby Crea clan I trust.”
Vehicle noises came from outside. The sound of booted feet filled the hall behind them.
David shoved Jaz and then Monique out of the way. They stumbled into each other while David took a position between them and the unknowns coming into the room.
Kaid and Rooster appeared, blasters in both hands, Dan behind them. Kaid came to a stop, stance and blaster ready to go.
David roared. Xylvar threw out his arm, and grabbed the beast by his hand. “Friends. Friends!” he put his hand up to Kaid. “Blasters down. For fuck sake, blasters down.”
David would see the blasters as danger and, though long gone beast, his mate’s safety would still be his first priority.
Xylvar liked that the beast saw Jaz as someone to save as well. She had good friends. No wonder she’d been so concerned for them.
Kaid dropped his hand, looked around, took in Morgan’s body, his severed arm lying several feet away, his pelvis and legs resting against the bars of a cell, and tucked the blaster into a leather holster.
“Well, shit, boys, we missed all the fun.”
36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Outside the cave, Zane and six other Crea carefully guided David’s beast toward a van with the lure of a huge, mostly meat-filled sub-sandwich and a large bottle of orange juice waiting as his reward. Monique, chewing on her own monster sized sandwich between slurps of juice, helped the other kidnapped Crea toward a different van. It broke Jasmine’s heart to see her friends in such a state. At least, now they were found, Zane could take care of them, hide them in his clan whilst they healed.
Xylvar waited beside Jasmine, a dark brooding presence she now found familiar and oddly reassuring. And he seemed to be accepting her more and more. Counting on her, seeming to enjoy her company. Even her hand resting on his shoulder didn’t piss him off anymore.
“Three blood-draining compounds closed and we’ve found a map to potentially several others. Been a good day.” They’d already shared the maps, and Kaid and Zane dispatched soldiers within minutes.
“Hasn’t ended yet. I’ve still got brownies at my cabin. I’ll let you make hot chocolate for us, and we can share them.”
“Big of you.” A warm spot in her chest spread with his easy words. The suggestion he wanted more time spent together. Such a suggestion was tantamount to a declaration.
Kaid joined them. “Good work. But you shouldn’t have gone in alone.”
“Wasn’t alone.” Silver dusting his skin, Xylvar’s tone was laced with a shot of fuck-you.
Jasmine placed her hand on his shoulder, dug her fingers in as a warning to play nice. “Between us, we weren’t just well-armed, we also have top skills.”
Kaid crossed his arms, widened his stance. “I don’t doubt your abilities. But you are clan, and clan works as a team. You didn’t know what you were walking into, and we were only minutes behind. Next time, both of you act like you’re members of a team.” When Kaid marched off, Dan strolled over.
“He feels responsible for every wound, every death of a clan member.”
“I’m not clan. The responsibility is my own.”
“Yeah, well, you are to us. Don’t forget our card game and bourbon tonight.” Rooster waved Dan over to help with bagging the body pieces of the former Father Morgan. “Man, why do guts always stink so much?”
“Because there’s shit in them, and our noses work exceptionally well.” Rooster laughed.
At last David was in the van with the other rescued Crea. Jasmine relaxed, and Xylvar took her hand. “He’ll be fine. It’ll take time, but with other Crea and his mate around him, he’ll come down.”
They headed over to Zane. “Don’t tell the authorities we’ve found these people, or killed Father Eustice Morgan, or whatever his real name was. Too many leaks and unknowns at the moment, and one or several are in the FBPI.”
Zane flashed gold. “Who?”
Jasmine read and understood the hunger for retribution on Zane’s face. “My boss. I think it’s why and how David and Monique were taken so early in their mission. Rich’s Pure contacts, including the asshole who was just hauled out in pieces, wanted anyone getting too close out of the way. What I don’t know is how or why Rich involved himself in an area so far from home. If intel is right, there are plenty of Pure sympathizers nationwide.”
“A local connection? Family or business contact, maybe? At least since your fellow agents are Crea, their blood being worth sucking for credits probably saved their lives. And if your boss is the key to their kidnapping, you’re lucky you weren’t taken.”
“As far as he knew, I was on sabbatical staying on clan land. Only when he called to say Ramine had gone missing did he bring me into the field, and only for that one thing.”
Zane nodded, ran his hand over his jaw. “Could have been a setup to get you into the field so you, too, could be kidnapped.”
“Yeah, I thought of that. Doesn’t give me a lot of warm fuzzies that’s for sure. Luckily Rich didn’t know I’d gone undercover for clan and was staying in Bozeman. He thought I was just living on clan land, protected and, for the time being, not in the field, getting in the way of his Pure plans. I’d like to ask that David’s and Monique’s identity be kept secret. That they stay on and within the safety of your clan reserve for a few weeks.”
“They can stay as long as they like.”
Zane walked with them down the chewed out track to their van.
Xylvar docked onto the hoist. “You still have guards on those outer Crea cabins?”
“Sure do. Is it the same cell as this Father Morgan?”
“We can’t work that out. Some seem to be in two different groups. But who and where they cross over, we don’t know.” Xylvar nodded to Zane, and the Crea stepped back as the hoist lifted his chair.
Jasmine slid into the passenger seat looked out into the now-moonlit night. “I’ll come tomorrow to see how Monique and David and are going.”
“No problem.”
As soon as the van was underway, she yawned. “I might have to call rain check on that hot chocolate and brownies. I’m near comatose.”
#
Xylvar stopped the van in front of Jasmine’s cabin. He didn’t want to go back to his own—not without her. He’d been counting on that chocolate fest, but refused to ask, and she did look beyond exhausted. Hot chocolate would be in her own pantry, and she probably had her own sweet treats she could enjoy without the hassle of his presence.
He’d pushed her away so many times, she had probably simply taken the hint. Keep your distance.
For the truth of it was, in the long run, what could he offer?
He had no real job prospects. His unit was a dump, and if—and only if—the spinal procedure worked, he was looking at months or more of rehab. And who could predict the extent of any repairs? Fully functional male? Walking but nothing else? Still in wheelchair? Or, the most amazing of all, the prospect of him being left with nothing but additional pain.
And if the latter was his lot, then a hollow point bullet in the head.
Yeah, good thing she’d gone with his moving-on suggestion. With the clan, she had options. So many options, and a lot of them pure Eli males. He gripped his steering wheel.
“Catch you later.” Yeah, that held just the right note of aloof.
“You know. I will take you up on that brownie. We can go through the notebook from the cupboard there, read what else is in it.”
He scowled. “I thought you were exhausted.”
She put her hand on his arm, sending a wave of longing through his soul. “I was, but the trip home has given me a boost.”
He should say forget it. The guys were meant to be coming for cards, but the two big Eli or a beautiful female didn’t balance well on the scales of desires.
The word no wouldn’t form on his tongue.
Fine, misty rain obscured the outside world as he drove on past rock outcroppings, following the track parallel to the rocky, tumbling stream that ran under his veranda. He pulled up outside the timber cabin with its cliché rock chimney and instantly relaxed, because this cabin, the cabin the Eli said could be his, felt like home. And if after his procedure he emerged out of his wheelchair, then he’d repay the Eli and work for them.
Jaz got out of the car, walked up the small ramp leading to the front door, then turned and smiled over her shoulder at him.
Something she used to do when they were young, first only for Tony, then for Xylvar.
Xylvar clamped his hands around the steering wheel. An anchor…a point of yeah, this is real, I’m awake…and swallowed. And with that single look he knew. Knew she cared—for him. Not just for the fun of it, the novelty, but because of him. As he stared at her, she lifted her chin a fraction.
Holy shit. With that penetrating look, she tossed d
own her I’m here—do you want me? gauntlet.
Selfish as it was, he did. Even if he had to share his brownies.
He sat and stared at her.
She’d always been the one. The one who beckoned, lured, the one female whose siren song called to his soul. And here, years later, she sang a murkier, more cynical, more sharply-honed melody. Yet to this Xylvar, the man he’d become, the lyrics and melody compelled him to fall at her feet.
He swallowed. Looked at his legs, the blasters, and knives locked in his chair, ran a hand over the thick, knotted scars of his lower torso…and scowled.
He loved her more than ever. This newer version of Jaz, with the urge to make things right in a shitty world, the woman who could throw a knife and take out an eye, was exactly the sort of woman his twisted, mangled soul not just desired and responded to but needed. That the old Jaz, the sweeter, less bitter version of her, would grate on him now. For the broken spoke to the broken.
And somewhere between Tony’s Mule-induced suicide and the agent bent on clearing out Mule dens, who saw partners and friends die, Jaz’s soul once more recognized his.
Here before him waited his perfect mate.
He left the vehicle and followed her inside. If the procedure next week was successful, he’d fall at her feet.
The surgery, always a lighthouse calling him home, now beamed brighter than ever.
Inside the cabin, he lit a small fire using the logs clan supplied from their sustainable forest lot, then came to stare out the window at the soft, darkening night sky. He took in and gloried at the dark shadows of trees falling across the stream, the small mule deer, ears twitching for sounds of danger, a fawn-colored silhouette as it drank its fill from just above the short run of rapids.
Jaz came to his side, handed him a steaming coffee with a strong bourbon scent. “Found a bottle next to the coffee beans, figured we deserved it after such a day. We can do the hot chocolate later.”
As they stood absorbed in the outside world, Jaz put her hand on his shoulder, then brushed the hair back from his face. Two months ago, even two weeks, such affection would have scared him, or made him wonder what the other person wanted. Tonight? Yeah, tonight, he’d let them both savor the moment. Absorb and enjoy the small acts of intimacy most people took for granted.
Flames of Hope Page 30
