by Laura Wright
TWO TO GO
Pantera Security League 6 - Bayou Heat
Alexandra Ivy
Laura Wright
Copyright © 2016 by Alexandra Ivy & Laura Wright
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express, written consent of the copyright holder.
Two To Go is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.
Cover Designer: Sweet 'n Spicy Designs by Jaycee DeLorenzo
Table of Contents
From the Authors
Legend of the Pantera
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
KILL WITHOUT SHAME
About The Authors
From the Authors
While writing the Bayou Heat series, the two of us have often discussed fun, side adventures that wouldn’t exactly fit into the overall storyline of the books. Eventually those ideas could no longer be denied and we started chatting about a separate “Six” characters series who were all living outside the Wildlands. Breaking with each of their born-to factions, these Pantera are the baddest of the bad, and willing to work in that gray area between right and wrong. In other words, they’re special ops warriors who are willing to do whatever necessary to protect their people. And so the Pantera Security League was born.
Unfortunately, we’re both overwhelmed with deadlines which meant that it might be years before we could actually write the books, so the solution was to try something completely new. We would write the same story together, each taking turns to layer in the action, emotion, and suspense that readers expect in a Bayou Heat story.
We hope you enjoy the stories! We certainly love writing them!
Happy Reading,
Alex and Laura
Legend of the Pantera
To most people, the Pantera, a mystical race of puma shifters who live in the depths of the Louisiana swamps, have become little more than a legend.
It was rumored that in the ancient past, twin sisters, born of magic, created a sacred land and claimed it as their own. From that land came creatures who were neither human nor animal, but a mixture of the two.
They became faster and stronger than normal humans. Their senses were hyper-acute. And when surrounded by the magic of the Wildlands they were capable of shifting into pumas.
It was also whispered that they possessed other gifts—telepathy, witchcraft, immortality, and the ability to produce a musk that could enthrall mere mortals.
Mothers warned young girls never to roam alone near the swamps, convinced that they would be snatched by the Pantera, while young men were trained to avoid hunting anywhere near the protected Wildlands.
Not that the warnings were always successful.
What girl didn’t dream of being seduced by a gorgeous, mysterious stranger? And what young man didn’t want to try his skill against the most lethal of predators?
As the years passed, however, sightings of the Pantera became so rare that the rumors faded to myth.
Most believed the species never existed at all.
All except a group of humans led by Christopher Benson, the CEO of Benson Enterprises. The reclusive, mysterious businessman has made a fortune by capturing Pantera and experimenting on them in his secret laboratories. He’s created serums with their blood that can offer youth and vitality to his rich friends. And injected warriors with Pantera DNA in an attempt to create super soldiers.
But his ultimate endgame for the Pantera is only now being revealed.
Can they discover the truth of his evil scheme before it’s too late?
CHAPTER 1
She was a ghost.
Didn’t exist.
It was part of the deal.
The shit they’d each signed. Not with a pen or in blood or anything, but with their agreement to join the Pantera Security League. While some weren’t taking that agreement very seriously—Cough, cough, Cerviel!—she did. With every breath she drew into her lungs.
The safe house at her back, the sun overhead, Elyon picked up speed, racing through the wetlands, darting in and out of the cypress. She never ventured into the Wildlands, of course. Rules, bitches, remember? But she did get…close. Close enough to work her favorite magic.
Shifting into her cat.
Shifting out of her cat.
Back and forth, like a blink of the eye, clicks on a camera. The feeling was a total rush. Heat and cold, wet and dry, hunger, then thirst. It was such an infrequent luxury to have fur on her back, and with each mile she covered, her frustration, her irritation at her fellow Six member started to ease. Unfortunately it couldn’t cease altogether, because that would be impossible. After all, the male had just declared some crazy shit back there. Calling someone his. Unwilling to leave her side. Declaring her his mate.
Hallie. That was her name.
Cue the eyeroll.
Elyon shifted into her cat again and snarled at a bird trying to keep pace with her. She couldn’t believe Cerviel had stepped over that line.
And with an asset!
She flashed back into her female form just as a rush of wind hit her face. Maybe she should give Ramiel a head’s up in L.A. so he didn’t completely lose his shit when he found out. Go hunting for Cerviel. Or Raphael. It was, after all, the big boss who’d told her fellow ghost to end it with that female who was this close to becoming his mate. Made him choose.
And now he was letting C off the hook like that…
Not cool.
After she’d completed her mission, she’d make a quickie trip to Hollyweird, take the male for a drink, or seven, and spill the beans. Unless, by some miracle, Cerviel had come to his senses and cut things off with Hallie by then—or at the very least he’d have something to say for himself that didn’t include long stretches of silence while he stared at the asset, drool running down his chin.
She leapt over a fallen log, shifting into her puma midflight. Yeah, baby. Not that she was opposed to drool. Or guys, males, drooling. When it was aimed at her, of course. She was, after all, a six foot, sleekly muscled hottie with silver-white hair that she’d buzzed close to her head. Her smooth skin was the color of caramel and her eyes were a brilliant, passionate blue. She’d had men drooling from the day she’d grown breasts. Once upon a time it had been a curse. Now it was just plain fun.
But she’d never, ever—ever—give up her life, her work, her vow for a Drooler.
Mating was a true sucker’s bet.
And love? She laughed. Didn’t exist. Not in her past, present, or future.
A scent hit her cat’s nostrils and she hissed into the wind. She was close. Almost there…
The thing was, she didn’t begrudge Cerviel or any of the males she worked with a little piece on the side—some action when they needed it. She was known to take what she wanted when she wanted it too. Maybe it wasn’t even the mating that bothered her so much. But witnessing her friend so openly vulnerable. He had trust in his eyes…love, belief that Hallie was worth giving up everything for. Trusting her with his very soul. He didn’t know what that meant. What damage could be done.
She did.
And no matter what, she’d make certain that no one ever came close to touching her soul on such a primal level.
She’d eat their heart if they tried.
&nb
sp; Her cat leaped onto the bank in front of the abandoned one-room shack. For several seconds, she allowed it to frolic in the water, kicking up mud and plants. It wasn’t until her entire coat glistened in the sun that she shook herself off, then shifted back into her jeans and leather.
“Can’t stay away from this place, can you, Ely?”
The leader of the Suits had shifted midstride and was walking toward her with a grin. The top brass of the Diplomatic faction of the Pantera was pure, golden perfection. Thick blond hair, richly tanned skin, and eyes that were jade at the moment, but glowed with liquid amber power in his cat form.
“Hey, boss,” she called out as he approached. “This little shit shack was my home at one point. And we always come home, don’t we?”
“Only if we have information to share with the class,” he replied.
As the male’s scent settled around her like a cloak, Elyon’s cat purred. Raphael was one of very few in the world she considered a part of her pack. Along with The Six, of course. Not that she fully trusted him—that honor went to no one but herself—but she believed in him. Looked up to him. Respected him. And was eternally grateful to him.
After all, he’d saved her.
Unlike most Pantera, she hadn’t been raised in the Wildlands. Her parents had been Diplomats, working in Central America. Passing as wealthy human business owners, they’d been targeted by a local gang. Their house had been ransacked, but they’d only taken one thing. The most precious item her parents possessed.
Her.
Like the true cowards they were, the men had snatched Elyon when she was in the care of the housekeeper, and soon after a ransom was demanded for her return. She’d only been five freaking years old, but it had taken the men less than a day to realize there was something different about her. Poor babies. Not! Scared by her stunning strength and eyes that glowed blue fire, they panicked. Instead of dropping her on the doorstep of her terrified parents, they’d taken her to the jungle and dumped her in a swift-moving river. No doubt they’d hoped she’d drown, her body swept away by the water. Or perhaps eaten by one of the numerous predators.
Too bad, asshats. Death was so not her. She’d not only survived, she’d thrived.
Became a predator herself.
Granted, she hadn’t been able to shift into her puma form, being outside the magic of the Wildlands, but she had the instincts of a wild animal. A few months later she’d been found and taken in by two ancient sisters who lived together in a village that was way, way off the grid. They’d cared for her, loved her in their way, and treated her like their own cub.
Not at all surprisingly, the memories of her real family grew distant and indistinct pretty damn quick. That is, until Raphael walked into the village and claimed her as a Pantera. How he’d found her he wouldn’t reveal. But he’d insisted she return to the Wildlands. At least long enough to allow her puma to be given the opportunity to be released. Bless him for that. It had been glorious. But, unfortunately, once there, she’d sort of freaked out, emotionally. She’d refused his pleas for her to be reunited with her parents. Thing was, she just hadn’t been ready to open herself up to her family. Two Pantera she barely remembered. Not yet.
So, Raphael had given her an option.
To become a part of the Pantera Security League. Or “The Six,” as they called themselves. To become Elyon, the angel who guided, comforted, and protected, but who also brought plagues on the houses of anyone who tried to screw with her. And truly, she’d never regretted saying yes to that offer.
Even when the news of her parents’ death had come to her eight months after her return. Goddess on high, she’d actually been grateful. The work had stolen every dark thought, every great and powerful wave of guilt, every deep regret, and turned it into supreme productivity.
And an iron wall around her heart.
“You have something to share, Ely?” Raphael said, his gaze constantly moving, always aware of his surroundings.
When Pantera were away from the Wildlands, even a hair over the border, they were always looking for trouble.
Especially these days.
She nodded. “I do. I managed to locate the ‘RR’ that was on the message.”
Interest sparked in the older male’s eyes. Just a week before, Xavier, the head of the Geeks, had intercepted a message from their enemy, Christopher Benson.
“Code red. Dispose of all test subjects at Rattlesnake Ranch, China House, The Orchard, Mulberry Lane, Battle Creek, and RR.”
Cerviel had just returned with the test subject at Rattlesnake Ranch. Hallie. The Mate. Now it was Elyon’s turn. Though her asset retrieval was going to go a helluva lot differently. Get in, locate, extract, deliver.
“Tell me,” Raphael commanded.
She glanced around the remote area and the safe house she’d spent many months at when she’d come home with Raphael. There didn’t seem to be anything to concern herself with, but life had taught her to be cautious. She always assumed that there was someone hiding in the shadows, or listening from the bushes.
Paranoia? Maybe. But it’d kept her alive.
“I was able to run the names you found in the original message against the files we managed to download from Benson Enterprises,” she told Raphael, turning back to face him.
She was nothing if not resourceful. From online to inside. When she’d first started up with the PSL, she’d discovered that she might not have her parents’ skill as a Diplomat, but she did possess an uncanny ability to blend into the criminal subculture. She felt perfectly at home with human predators. Thieves, cutthroats, dealers… And she could blend in easily despite her Amazonian size. The general population couldn’t tell at a glance that she was Pantera, but they could sense the danger that smoldered around her with an unspoken warning that a person with a half a brain didn’t want to screw with her.
“You got a hit?” Raphael pressed.
She nodded. “RR. Russian Room.”
Not surprisingly, the leader scowled. “What is it?”
She reached into the pocket of her leather coat, pulling out her phone. With a few swipes of her finger she found the image she was searching for. A narrow brick building with a large front window and an iron door. It was three stories, with old-fashioned fire escape ladders zigzagging between the barred windows and a flat roof. She held it up to show him.
“On the surface it’s a small restaurant in New York City,” she explained.
Raphael leaned forward, studying the image. “And beneath the surface?”
“Underground fight club.”
He released his breath with a low hiss of fury. “They’re using Pantera to fight?”
“That was my first thought too,” Elyon said, feeling her cat scratching at her insides. Poor furry girl. Wanted out again. One taste was never enough. For either of them. “But I don’t think that’s what’s going on. I’ve done some heavy-duty research on the place and it looks like the typical hangout for overly aggressive humans who feel the need to pound the crap out of each other.” Sounded like a show not to missed. If only she had the time.
Raphael nodded, trusting her words without question. That was what she appreciated most about him. He gave her a task and then trusted her to complete it. No looking over her shoulder, or pestering her with micromanagement.
“What’s the connection to Benson?” he instead asked.
“His corporation owns the building,” she said. It’d taken her hours to unravel the complicated tax forms that’d at finally led back to Christopher Benson. But she was nothing if not persistent. And an insomniac.
“What’s their interest in a human fight club?” Raphael spoke his thoughts out loud.
“I’m on my way to find out.”
“You’re taking this one?” Raphael demanded.
“Unless you have an issue with it,” she said, then gave him no time to argue. “I’ve already prepped my backstory and uploaded it to the usual sites used by fighters.” A smug smile curved her lips
. She might be a Suit by birth, but her hacking skills were pretty damned impressive. Even if she did say so herself. “Come on, it’s perfect for me. If anyone looks me up, I’m the Angel of Death who is just returning from Hong Kong.” She patted the pocket of her coat. “I also asked for an old friend to email me an introduction.”
Raphael arched a brow. “Do I know this friend?”
“Only if you happen to be a part of the Serbian mafia.”
His lips twitched. He knew better than to ask how she became acquainted with a man who ran Serbia’s crime syndicate.
Hey, she knew a lot of people. Most of them unsavory characters who lived in the shadows of life, and who most upright—or uptight—citizens tried to avoid. But, no judgment.
“How are you getting there?” he asked as a warm breeze blew across the bayou.
She inhaled the familiar scents and almost wished she had an hour or two to just kick it by the water’s edge. “I have a private flight booked for this afternoon.”
He studied her for a long, silent moment. “Do you want me to have Leo go with you?”
Her brows snapped together. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
He stepped toward her, the power of his cat filling the air with sizzling heat. “We don’t have enough intel to know what you’re walking into.”
She slammed her fists on her hips, her own cat sliding near the surface as she glared at her mentor. No longer did it want to come out and play. The furry bitch inside her wanted blood. Seriously. If it’d been anyone but Raphael questioning her solo abilities, she would have made them regret even voicing the question.
“I can handle it,” she said through tightly gritted teeth.
Raphael made a sound of impatience. “I know that, Elyon. But it’s not always bad to have a partner.”
She stepped back. It was her natural reaction to anyone who tried to invade her personal space. Whether it was physical or mental.
