by S. E. Smith
Hunter recounted the attack on Narelle ending with his surprise about Lukain’s appearance. “Not one whisper about his survival.”
“How did he manage that trick?”
Hunter merely arched a brow at the question. Shit if he knew.
“Right.” Ezra rapped his knuckles on the table and slouched back. “So Lukain’s back from the dead and you have a lost war mongrel.”
Hunter agreed Bogan’s presence skewed matters. “What are the odds of a war mongrel running loose? One which ends up at The Zone where I work and run things.”
“Slim and why I didn’t hesitate when you reached out. There are no coincidences when the government is involved.”
Hunter nodded, pleased they were of the same mind. “Were you able to find anything?”
A look flashed across Ezra’s brutal features, his eyes darkening from brilliant blue to a fathomless navy. “Officially there are no unaccounted for war mongrels. While not in active duties since the war ended, they are being used for research and study. Anything more, I couldn’t find out unless I wanted to trigger the obvious flags they have set.”
Lie. Ezra was good at tech. Better than Hunter and his Lomanis heritage. If Ezra wanted he could root through every file available and not give a hint of his cyber presence. Of course that detail wasn’t one he shared with many, so Hunter didn’t call him on it. He had his own secrets he didn’t want to share.
“What’s the unofficial verdict?”
Another grunt but more annoyed. “The bastards are running tests to reactivate that segment of the WIRED program.”
Hunter stiffened, but Ezra lowered his voice and continued. “Instead of active combat missions they are looking to use the animals and their handlers to infiltrate perceived threats.”
Anger rose fast and furious in Hunter. Essentially turning them into high risk spies. Utilizing the skills they’d trained for in those type of situations after all they’d been through was unimaginable.
“How long?” Hunter snarled, gripping the edge of the table to control his rage. “How long have they been doing this?”
“Less than a year.” Ezra ran a palm over his face. “Look, if you can stay low—”
Every muscle went tight. “What do you mean?”
Ezra met Hunter’s gaze evenly. “A few participants may have been involuntarily recruited.”
Blood boiling, Hunter instinctively moved forward bumping the table. He narrowed his focus to read the truth of what Ezra just revealed. Involuntarily recruited. Drawn against their will into a game of subterfuge. The thought of the men he knew being forced into what many viewed as a living nightmare curled his stomach.
After the Vargos war, soldiers were reassigned, most to less intense situations. Occasionally base assignments with non-travel stipulations. Unlike Hunter, not everyone who’d attained permanent injuries were let go with recompense. He’d stumbled on minor success owning The Zone, while others sold their talents and skills as mercenaries to earn enough to survive.
Lips parted to speak, Hunter broke off at the low whine from his side. Bogan was up on his haunches and pressing into Hunter’s lower leg and hip. He ran a hand over the brown ruff in a soothing stroke while never moving his gaze from Ezra. “Do you think Bogan is a part of this new venture?”
Ezra shrugged. “More than likely it seems possible. Any word or hint about his original handler?”
“He’s dead.”
Ezra flinched. He’d been WIRED too but not in the K9 division. Still Ezra had witnessed what happened when one or the other died and the trijl was violently ripped asunder. “Before or after being recruited for this program?”
There was no way for Hunter to tell. Sections of Bogan’s memory pertaining to his handler’s death were skipped or just plain missing. Those huge glaring holes now held a more ominous meaning. What if they’d been deliberately deleted instead of damaged as he’d assumed? Better yet, why not clear it all out? Had Bogan truly escaped or had he been purposely left behind?
Too many questions to ponder. “Not sure. It still leaves me in the wind on the why.”
“To draw you in?”
Ezra’s question was valid but didn’t ring true for Hunter. The ruined adjustments in his leg didn’t make him a likely candidate for whatever was being devised. In addition, Bogan already had a track record of being difficult to partner. There was no guarantee putting the war mongrel with Hunter would have netted the result they wanted.
He shook his head. “It’s not clicking. Lukain made it clear he wants revenge. Can’t see him working with the government considering his anger that night.”
Leaving him with two separate issues. In which case Hunter could consider himself fucked.
“I’ll see what else I can discover.” Ezra pulled up the collar of his leather and stood. “I’m gonna hang about a bit. I’ll be around and you can reach me on the old frequency like before.”
On his way out, a few dared stare at the tall stranger covered in leather but hastened to turn away as he drew closer to their tables to leave. Hunter blew out a breath and signaled Bogan. “Komm.”
After a slight hesitation, Hunter chose the direction which took him closest to the dance area and Narelle. At the same moment, she glanced his way. Her steps stumbled but she recovered smoothly, turning her back on him deliberately.
Yeah, tonight he’d end their stand off and enjoy every minute of it.
Eleven
After dancing until her feet hurt, Narelle headed upstairs before Hunter. The Zone wouldn’t close for a few hours but she needed the time to wrap her head around the look he’d shot her way. Tonight he’d push for more and she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t give in. Even if it was a bad idea.
The attack a few days ago served as a vivid reminder of why she needed to get on her ship and leave. Not come back. Not think about the man who caused her to have such wicked, wicked thoughts about the two of them sweating and rolling around in his big bed.
Her nipples peaked at the idea. Breath growing short, she reached the door to his apartment above The Zone. At her side, Bogan’s head bumped her thighs. Another Hunter dictate. Narelle scooted aside and waited until Bogan searched the place before locking the door.
Ever since the attack, Hunter had given a command which kept the animal by her if she wasn’t with him in the bar. Narelle ran her hands over the black tipped ears, at least he was good company. Bogan licked her fingers and Narelle chuckled. “It’s just you and me, buddy.”
A quick shower later found Narelle wearing another one of the shirts Hunter offered since he refused to let her go to her ship and grab her own personal things. She refused to sleep in her patched synth suit.
Hunter continued to believe she was a target, though Narelle felt the threat was over. She made her way to his bed where the sheets smelled of him, the pillows scented with his masculine essence and sighed.
Bogan padded over and nudged her arm closest to the edge of the bed. “Right. You’re going to watch the place until he gets back.”
After three days of the same, the routine was familiar. Narelle snuggled deep into the covers, smothering her yawn. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d leave with or without Hunter’s agreement.
As she dozed off, Bogan settled with a groan somewhere on the floor and she fell into a deep sleep with the sounds of canine snores in her ear.
What felt like moments later, her eyes blinked open in the dark. The bed shifted beside her and the warm weight of a male presence squeeze in beside her. Narelle considered protesting but lacked the spirit. Her lids lowered on the cusp of dozing off when lips pressed to the curve of her shoulder where the shirt dipped.
“Hunter?”
The weight of his arm curled about her waist and tugged her against his nude body. Narelle stiffened and her eyes flickered open.
“Shh. Let me hold you. We’ll fight tomorrow and have make-up sex after. It will give me time to have a nap before opening The Zone.”
Narelle crammed a fist
in her mouth to muffle her laugh. When she had her mirth under control she spoke into the darkness. “What makes you think I’m having sex with you again?”
Hunter nuzzled the back of her neck and Narelle’s body did the melt-y thing once more. “Because I plan to make you mad in the morning.”
Shameless. Hunter Gils was shameless, but Narelle admitted to looking forward to how he’d execute the fight and the make-up sex. Exhaustion pulled at her and instead of saying anything else, Narelle found herself falling to sleep while being held by the man she should be running from.
Hunter felt the moment Narelle dropped off. He buried his nose in her hair, the scent one he recognized because she’d used his cleansing solution. Didn’t matter. Beneath it all she smelled like his. She belonged to him. Now he only had to convince her to stay.
Holding Narelle tight and shifting his hand to palm her belly beneath his shirt, Hunter settled down to rest. Moments later, his senses screamed to life. Bogan leaped to his feet with a flurry of barks. Glass shattered as his bedroom window blew inward and Hunter rolled with Narelle to the floor at the farthest side.
Terror flashed over her upturned face. “Hunt—”
“Stay down!” Hunter pushed her beneath the bed frame, and jerked open a hidden compartment in the flooring. He whipped out two lasers and thrust one into Narelle’s hand. Hunter met her gaze pleased to see her hanging on to control despite her heaving breaths. “It has to be Lukain.”
Hunter knew it to his soul and the other man would pay for this.
“Face me if you want her to live, Hunter.” The shouted dare was followed by Bogan’s snarls and growls.
Hunter kissed Narelle, tongue and lips tangling briefly then lunged up, weapon in hand. Beside the window, Bogan stood, fur bristling. As soon as the war mongrel caught sight of Hunter, he cocked his head to the side.
“Gehe! Suche, Bogan.”
Like a shot, Bogan took off through the window. Hunter grabbed his pants, vaguely aware of Narelle handing him a shirt which he jammed his arms in and pulled over his head.
“Go after him. I’ll be right behind you.”
Hunter toed on his boots and spared a second to point at the green skinned beauty who’d carved a space in his heart without trying. “Don’t let Lukain see you when you follow.”
Then he raced out the window, worried he’d be forced to watch another partner die. The tan and black coat became a distant blur. Damn animal was barely giving him a chance to catch up.
He shouldn’t have synced with another war mongrel. If possible, Lukain would take out Bogan to lash out at him. Hunter tried to swallow past the knot in his throat.
Using every bit of his strength, he pushed to keep sight of Bogan knowing the war mongrel was his only chance to track Lukain. Ahead Bogan slowed almost to the exact spot of Narelle’s earlier attack and the tall form of his former team mate stepped forward.
“You think sending your friend would scare me, Hunter? You forget I’m already a dead man.”
Ezra. He must mean Ezra since he was the only one Hunter had discussed the matter with.
Lukain shook his head. “I have nothing to live for except vengeance. You’ll pay for how I suffered.”
For the man he once was, the friendship they’d once shared, Hunter attempted to reason. “Lukain, what happened to you was terrible. The war effected all of us. I have scars, I lost friends. But it’s time to walk away. Live a life with some measure of happiness.”
Lukain’s gaze narrowed as he withdrew his laser. “Easy for you to say. With another K9 by your side and a woman who cares for you.”
Hunter tried again. “You could meet the one, your special person.”
“Drop your weapon, Hunter.” Lukain snorted. “Maybe I’ll believe you’re sincere.”
If he did, Hunter wouldn’t stand a chance. “Your vow, Lukain. Don’t harm the war mongrel.”
It was risky but with the moment upon him, Hunter didn’t want to have to kill the last living member of his team.
Surprise glittered in Lukain’s blue eyes and his arm lowered slightly. “You’d take my word?”
“Yes.” They’d been soldiers. Men of honor following orders.
“Fine. Drop your weapon and I won’t kill the K9.”
Hunter let his laser clatter to the ground. He signaled Bogan to back off, almost shuddering when the animal complied.
Lukain laughed, the chilling sound lacking any vestige of humor. “Fool. I won’t rest until you’re dead or I take away what you don’t deserve.”
Too late Hunter realized Lukain had the laser aimed to the far right of Hunter. Toward Bogan. Then beyond. Panic flared. No. Not possible. Heart thundering in his ears, Hunter turned slowly and saw her.
Narelle stood behind him, the laser he lent her in an ironclad grip, her eyes on Lukain. Hunter knew how it would all play out. Lukain was going to kill the woman he loved.
Love.
It was easy to acknowledge now because no other emotion could explain why his heart clenched at the thought of losing her. Hunter faced the gleeful ex-soldier. He’d never get his weapon from the ground in time. “Lukain, for all the gods sake, don’t.”
The answer was written on Lukain’s face.
“Don’t,” Hunter whispered the ragged plea then Lukain fired.
Twelve
Hunter moved faster than he thought possible, forcing his adjustments to give him the speed needed. Narelle’s scream tore through him. Already in motion to cover her with his own body, lasers blasted around him. One from Narelle as she dove to the side, and Hunter wanted to kiss her for having the sense to get out of the way while wanting to strangle her.
Lukain’s shot went wide, chipping the building behind. Another laser blasted from somewhere overhead. Bogan barked in a frenzy, the sound nothing like he’d heard the war mongrel make before.
“Hunter.” Narelle choked out his name.
Hunter’s hands wrapped around her and squeezed. He whispered words of thanks, shaking at how close he’d come to losing her. On the thought, he pushed back. “I told you not to let him see you.”
She patted Hunter’s black tee shirt, the glazed look in her eyes ripping him to shreds. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. “I’m fine. You?”
“You need to call off the war mongrel.”
Narelle had her arm up and the laser aimed in the direction of the new voice. Warmth spread through Hunter as he turned, keeping a hand at her lower back. “Do I have you to thank?”
Ezra’s expression pinched tight. “I wish, but your K9 ruined my shot. Jumped on Lukain and went for his throat.”
A painful yelp had Narelle jerking away from him. Hunter flinched at the sight that met his gaze. Lukain was dead. Of that Hunter was certain.
Bogan lay on his side twitching, sparks flaring from the optic center. Narelle raced over and dropped to her knees. “Hunter, quick. Bogan’s hurt.”
More than hurt. Lukain lay sprawled on the ground, blood and gore representing how brutal Bogan had been. At the cost of his own life. Killing a soldier went against protocol, and it was easy to discern he’d fried the primary biotronics in his brain. But he’d done it. The war mongrel had risked his life to save him and Narelle.
Swallowing past the thickness in his throat, Hunter squatted next to them. “Gott, biet rel.”
He smoothed a hand over Bogan’s heaving side and despite everything he’d done to avoid this, he was going to lose another animal he was synced to.
“Why, Bogan?” But Hunter knew the answer. Brown eyes glazed with pain stared at him and a wet tongue licked the back of Hunter’s hand.
Shit. Fucking rescue drive. Science couldn’t breed it out of an animal or train it into submission no matter how hard they tried.
Hunter blinked away moisture. “I’m going to lift him, Narelle.”
He wouldn’t leave Bogan behind. Narelle scooted back, then got to her feet. Hunter picked up Bogan and eased his weight over his shoulders until his four legs dr
aped Hunter’s chest, front legs on the right and hind legs on the left.
Ezra stepped up to them, his icy blue stare toned down. “I’m sorry, man. I tried to stay close to The Zone in case Lukain returned.”
Hunter nodded and pushed down the pain. “Let’s go.”
Hunter’s bar bustled with activity. This wouldn’t be an uncommon occurrence, except it was after hours and the bodies filling the space were government drones not paying customers out for a drink.
It had been simple enough to reach his old government contacts at the WIRED program and they’d sent a team to retrieve their possession immediately. That was how they referred to Bogan. A possession. Data transmissions had been shoved in Hunter’s face as proof of ownership and leaving him nothing to fight back with.
The sooner they left the sooner he could console Narelle, who failed miserably at appearing stoic. Shock was setting in, and her skin had lost its jeweled tones. He stroked a hand up her back, attempting to soothe. She wouldn’t go upstairs or lay down so Hunter kept her close wanting the officials to hurry up and leave. Unfortunately, the ass in charge wouldn’t stop talking.
“K9-15 was slated to be put down. Considering all the issues getting a handler to work with him, the scientist weren’t interested in a repeat after Donner’s death but the stupid animal didn’t return for decommission like he was trained to do.”
Decommission. In other words, killed. Bogan had returned but for whatever reason contact hadn’t been made. Maybe he was smart enough to know what they planned and avoided it.
“Bogan worked well enough taking down Lukain. That made him an asset.” Hunter felt it worth mentioning but Godav, head man in charge and all around ass, smirked.
“The only reason you had success doing the trijl with number 15 is because he and K9-3 were bred from the same genetic combination.”
Hunter jerked, the words hitting him harder than any blow. Bogan and Riktor came from the same stock. No wonder both animals displayed the same undying spirit and loyalty.
