by Dianna Love
She held her temper and calmly stated, “He’s still weak from the tranq, so I don’t need an escort. Besides, I have a stun gun, just like everyone else.”
But she hadn’t considered reaching for the weapon under her jacket.
If she had, she couldn’t have used it. Not while he was touching her.
The security professional who’d instructed her on the specially made weapon had never expected her to willingly be in contact with someone she might have to drop. There’d been no training for that scenario.
Brantley scowled. “I know you’re capable of using a defensive weapon, but you can’t assume you’re safe just because you have it.”
She’d never told anyone that she carried the weapon and was prepared to use it at any moment mainly because of the jackal shifters who worked for SCIS. That would go over like a vat of boiling oil dropped on this man’s head.
Brantley gave her a put-upon look. “Don’t give me that look of indignation. I’m only saying we have no information on this shifter. He might have changed shape and attacked you.”
“He’s still half dead and has straps on an arm and a thigh. He isn’t a threat yet.” In fact, she kept thinking he needed her, but she had no reason to stay when he was clearly too exhausted to talk any more.
“You can’t know he’s not a threat, Tessella,” Brantley argued.
Someone without her background, or sincere interest in all things shifters, was not qualified to tell her what she could know or not know.
But she had to be a team player, so she nicely explained, “I’m here because I do understand who and what I’m dealing with when it comes to shifters, as much as anybody in today’s world can know. In fact, I probably own the most extensive library in existence on this topic, since professionals around the world contact me for advice and information.”
She stopped short of reminding Brantley that it was her research, sometimes groundbreaking, on individual shifter animal traits, habitat, psychology and interaction that had landed her this position with SCIS.
He knew.
She waited for the obvious to sink in.
He held up his hands. “Hey, don’t bite my head off. I’m just saying I’m concerned about you taking risks, that’s all. No one is questioning your expertise. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Argh. She hated to be dealt with as if she were an emotional female. “I’m not upset. But I am tired and ready to crack this case.”
“I’m right there with you, hon.”
She started to say, “Don’t call me hon,” something she had not tolerated while in school, but this was one of those battles that would not be worth the damage. He rarely used that term. If she chastised him for the slipup, word would get back to the staff, which was primarily male, and they’d start treating her like she had perpetual PMS.
She spun Brantley’s original question on him. “What are you doing here this time of night?”
“Checking on John Doe. How lucid is he?”
Something told her to be careful with what she said. “He remembers before the explosion, but says he was not involved with it. He claims to be an innocent bystander.”
Brantley made a snorting sound. “You didn’t believe him, did you?”
Part of her wanted to speak up for Colin, to be his voice, to ensure he was treated fairly.
That was a big leap from the Tess who had wanted to put all shifters into holes after her mother’s death.
The years of studying and boosting her education on shifters had given her some distance. She’d needed it to be able to approach this work with clinical professionalism and not wear her heart on her sleeve.
It still hurt, but her mother had once told her to never allow an obstacle to get in the way of her goal.
Not even grief.
With regard to his pointedly asking if she believed their captive, Tess shook her head rather than give voice to words that might not sound sincere. “Let’s not jump to unsubstantiated conclusions. Everyone deserves a fair investigation. I’m heading home. I’ll be back early. We can interrogate him together. If the protein doesn’t kick in and our shifter doesn’t shift tonight, I think he’ll be ready to shift tomorrow. Maybe then he won’t be so distracted by his injuries.”
“That works for me.”
But Brantley remained in place after saying that.
When she lifted her eyebrows in question, he said, “I’m waiting on the medical team to check his vitals. Have to give the chief an update.”
He meant Southeastern SCIS Chief of Local Operations Marlin Fender, who answered directly to the national SCIS headquarters in DC. Fender was also a friend of her father. Their friendship had developed through Fender’s reporting to her father’s congressional committee on shifter issues.
That was fine. Fender had never shown her any preferential treatment, which was just the way she wanted it.
In fact, he’d been on her back for weeks to get results.
“I’m on my way there now to brief the chief,” she told Brantley.
He smiled. “Great. I’ll just take a look at John Doe and call it a night.”
Nodding at Brantley, she walked away. The weight of worry on her shoulders grew heavier with every step, pushing her to go back and be present when the medics went in.
Wouldn’t Brantley love her hovering?
He’d never owned up to wanting the director’s position, but he did and she was his top competition.
She’d bring the roof down on her head if she went back to observe Colin now, because the worst mistake she could make was showing a bias for mercy toward any shifter. Brantley would report that in a nanosecond, then Fender would no doubt let it slip around her father.
She had worked her backside off for years to cut through the steel apron strings her father held and had no intention of answering to him for her actions in this job.
Her father had wanted her to throw in the towel and join a law firm one of his buddies ran.
Never going to happen.
But to succeed here, she couldn’t show any compassion when it came time to interrogate their prisoner.
He had one chance at convincing her and Brantley of his true identity tomorrow and that he was not a Black River pack member. If he hesitated and made her feel like a fool for being sympathetic, all her good will would fly out the window.
Her gut said that wolf shifter was telling the truth, but she’d been fooled once in the past when her emotions got involved, and she couldn’t dismiss the possibility that he had been playing her.
If he had, he’d find out that while she would be fair to a fault, she was the last woman any man should ever cross.
Chapter 8
Cole had paused to sharpen his hearing and listen to the conversation between Tess and someone else.
Who the hell was that guy?
Gray Wolf had been acting half decent while Tess was around, but he became agitated the minute she left.
When some strange man spoke to Tess, his wolf had practically chewed its way out.
That hampered Cole’s efforts to reach the IV to force the special protein stimulant into his system.
If that was a medic talking to Tess, Cole might have to wait for them to come take his vitals. If so, maybe he could convince them to open the valve for his new IV flow on their way out.
Hell yes. This could work.
Protect mate. Gray Wolf was working himself into a lather.
Cole hissed, “Stop it. She is not our mate.”
Wrong. More snarling.
Dropping his head back, Cole tried to calm his wolf so he could act normal around the medics. Maybe this would be the last visit for the night.
Cole worked to focus his only uncovered eye. Slowly, he made out a design on the ceiling.
The door opened and a guy with a toothpaste smile walked in. He’d dressed up his image to fool everyone, but Cole saw something unnatural when the light struck his eyes.
That was no human.
&nbs
p; Nor was he a shifter.
Could he be a Cadell? Cole’s gut instinct made his muscles tense, but he could only identify a Cadell’s magic for sure while in animal form.
A Cadell working with SCIS?
Of course, because it would give Cadells, the Gallize enemy for many generations, access to all shifters.
I’m so fucked.
But ... maybe not. Cole’s eagle tattoo, which marked him as Gallize, had been on the left shoulder. Getting burned would have destroyed the tattoo, right?
For now, he’d be thankful for the charring on that side of his body since it protected his identity. Otherwise, if this guy was definitely Cadell, he’d know immediately that he had a Gallize shifter in his possession.
A badly wounded Gallize.
Cadells hated Gallize shifters. The magic that spawned the first Gallize in the sixth century had been denied to Cadellus, a dangerous witch. She bred Cadells for the sole purpose of killing Gallize shifters and taking their mates.
“I’m Theo Brantley, in charge of security for the southeastern division of SCIS. I partner with Tessella on investigating extreme shifter activity, in particular the Black River pack crimes.”
Cole clenched his jaw at this being speaking Tess’s name, but he said nothing. Brantley must not know that Cole was a Gallize, because Cole was still alive.
All Cole could do for the moment was study the guy through his swollen eye. His vision was starting to focus better every second, now that the tranq drip had been shut off. He could definitely see an unnatural look to the man’s eyes. Based on the weathered skin and slight lines at the corners of his eyes, Cole put this guy around forty ... if this Brantley were human, which Cole seriously doubted. He’d go with his first gut reaction until someone proved him wrong.
“What’s your name?” Brantley asked.
“Colin.”
“Last name?”
“O’Donnell.”
“That’s a start. Tessella indicated you don’t recall anything about the explosion.”
“I don’t.”
Brantley leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking casual, but Cole’s ears perked at the sense he was being hunted. His wolf had quieted again for some reason. When the two of them were in sync, his wolf would become very still with Cole when they were in enemy territory.
Evidently Cole wasn’t the only one who smelled an enemy in the room.
The corner of Brantley’s lips tipped in a smile meant to disturb his prey. “I’m not as gullible as my associate. You have until tomorrow morning to pull your story together. If there are any holes, there are no second chances.”
The door opened again and two men in hospital scrubs walked in.
Cole revised that assessment. Two shifters wearing medical clothing walked in. One had dirty fingernails.
These weren’t medics.
What the hell did they plan to do?
In an effort to stop them from adjusting his IV feed just yet, Cole said, “I’ll tell you everything I know tomorrow. I should be ready to shift and heal by then. Once I do, I’m hoping the rest of my memory returns. I’m getting bits and pieces. Not surprising considering the damage my body has suffered, but ... I’ll be better tomorrow.”
He hoped to be much improved in about an hour if he could convince the so-called medics to lower his bed just a few inches. He’d claim a headache and see if they bought it. Two more inches and he could definitely get his fingers on the IV.
Brantley released his full grin. “I’m certain you’ll be much better in the morning. These fine men are going to help you shift. They’ve brought a special mix we use for shifters who can’t call up their animal. They tell me yours is a wolf, which is quite a coincidence when you think about being at a scene where we were told we’d find a Black River pack member. But let’s save that for tomorrow. In the meantime, your animal will be released and these men will ensure you don’t hurt yourself.”
Hell no. If they forced his wolf to the surface, Cole wouldn’t be healed enough to defend himself against two healthy shifters. Jackals at that.
He tried to keep his heart rate from spiking, but his wolf hadn’t liked this any more than he had. The beast went wild with the urge to attack, ramping up the pain Cole had just gotten to the point of managing.
Cole gritted his teeth and argued, “That’s a bad idea. My wolf is injured and will come out fighting.”
The jackals snickered.
Brantley had turned away as if ignoring Cole. Opening the door, Brantley paused and said, “I’m betting on it.”
One of the jackal shifters moved like lightning to inject a yellow fluid into the IV feed.
Cole lunged at him with his bad arm, but the other shifter slammed the arm with a fist.
Bones snapped in Cole’s restrained hand.
Gray Wolf went wild, banging like crazy to get out.
The rush of new meds shot into Cole’s chest and boiled with the adrenaline already rushing through him.
He lunged up against the restraints, lashing out with his burned arm at the laughing pair.
The bigger of the two shifters grabbed the damaged arm and shoved it down.
Cole’s vision distorted, his back twisted.
Gray Wolf came charging forward.
Chapter 9
Tess had just paid for a coffee, which she needed on the way in the next morning. She hadn’t slept much and had to be to be sharp for the interrogation.
Too many dreams about a man she’d sworn not to think about again. Seven years should be long enough to forget him.
Her phone buzzed. Finding a place to drop her purse and drink, she took the call. “I’m on my way in, Brantley.”
“We’ve got a problem. Our wolf shifter changed into his animal and went wild. He attacked two of our staff.”
All her sympathy for that shifter went right out the window. She would not tolerate an out-of-control animal, be it natural or part human.
She pushed speed limits, hurrying to the facility located outside of the metro area, not stopping until she reached Colin’s door. When she looked through the glass observation panel, she gasped.
The stretcher had been wrecked along with all of the IV set up, but it was the walls that raised her horror.
Deep claw marks gouged the cosmetic wood panels layered over the titanium reinforcement, and blood splatters covered everything as if a crazed artist had created macabre abstract art.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
Brantley’s message said the wolf had been sedated and moved to their secure shifter cell.
She looked back at the room.
How long had that massacre gone on?
Any compassion belonged to those who had been harmed.
Turning around, she got her second workout of the morning, hurrying to the elevator to take it to the basement floor. Good thing she’d worn jeans and sneakers. She called them running shoes to give the impression she exercised, which would only happen when ... never.
She couldn’t equate the man who had touched her so gently with one who shifted into a monster, but that was clearly the reality.
At the bottom level, she walked out of the elevator and turned left at the first corridor. The ones on the right were for minimal threats.
The left wing had two holding cells where the most dangerous beings were held.
After seeing Colin’s infirmary room, she had no doubt where he’d been taken.
Was that even his real name?
Fishing out her access card, she swiped it over the security panel next to a steel door with a titanium core. When the door clicked open, she hurried in and quickly found Brantley standing on an observation deck in front of six narrow vertical windows protected by a four-inch thick, acrylic-type material that had been fabricated with fine titanium wires woven through the panels. Even if a shifter managed to break these windows, the openings were only a foot wide by four feet tall.
Glancing over his shoulder, Brantley waved her over.
She had a moment of hesitation.
Would Colin finally reveal his face or look like some werewolf creature from a B movie?
Not that any shifter had looked like that yet, but her imagination had been running freely since she got the call half an hour ago.
Crossing the room, she eased up to the observation window as if looking into a snake pit. She hated snakes, especially the idea of seeing more than one.
But when she leaned forward, she didn’t see a snake ... or a wolf.
Standing defiantly on the opposite wall from them was a naked male wearing a full iron head mask. She’d forgotten about those, having never seen one used until now. A thick, six-inch chain at the back of the full-face head cover was bolted a foot into the titanium wall. No room to maneuver, and shifting while wearing the mask would very likely cause death.
A space in the mask had been left open for his eyes. One slit under his nose plus another oval opening at his mouth allowed a prisoner to speak.
She felt like a voyeur, but turning away to protect Colin’s privacy would play into Brantley’s hand. He’d love to point out that, as a woman, she wasn’t cut out to do this type of work. He was too smart to voice it out loud and make himself a target for a sexual discrimination complaint. But the wrong reaction would provide him a reason to suggest in a closed-door meeting that she couldn’t handle the job.
If she were honest, she couldn’t move her gaze from the most magnificent male body she’d ever seen.
She didn’t know any woman who could objectively look at Colin’s fit body and turn away. He surpassed any model she’d ever seen in an underwear ad. Speaking of underwear, nothing even slightly snug could hide how well he was endowed.
Damn, this was so not professional.
Eyes above the waist, Tess.
Like that downplayed his body one bit? Look at the guns on that man.
If she didn’t get a grip and keep her face completely void of any reaction, Brantley would have some serious ammunition to use against her.
