Alpha’s Mission: A Special Forces Shifter Romance

by Rose, Renee

  “Do that. And update me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Because I’m shaken, not because I like to reach out to the hunky agent, I text a message to Dune. “Headquarters wants an update.”

  To my surprise, he calls immediately. “Secure line?”

  “Switching.” I reroute his call to a burner phone I keep for talking with agents. “Go ahead.”

  “What are you holding back about this guy?”

  I pause to cover my surprise. Quickly, I open the Lucius Frangelico file and scroll through it for clues. I tap my finger lightly on the keyboard as I read.

  “Annabel?”

  He used my first name again. I shouldn’t love it so much.

  “I’m here, just trying to figure out what you mean.”

  “Every bug I’ve dropped he’s destroyed within minutes. This isn’t an ordinary target.”

  “Okay. I see he has a propensity to disappear without a trace. Questionable comings and goings. Possible murders in which the victims may have been shot at close range after death.

  “So, how were they actually killed?”

  “Unknown. Their brains are usually blown out. In one case, a man was decapitated.” I fight a wave of nausea as I flip through the photos. And guilt. Because I should have researched this case deeper myself before I sent Dune. I guess I was too wrapped up in my personal research.

  “Does the organization actually know what they’re after here, or is it a mystery investigation?”

  “Unclear.”

  “Permission to terminate suspect if engaged?”

  A prick of fear creeps up the back of my neck. I try not to worry about agents getting killed—especially because I’m the one sending them out, but a foreboding chills me. Dune knows he’s in danger. Still, I give the only answer I can. “They want him alive.”

  Dune curses softly. “I need different technology. He sweeps for bugs. Everything I’ve dropped on him has been destroyed.”

  “I’ll contact R & D.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll stay on him personally.”

  That chill of foreboding returns. “Have you been made, Charlie?” Now I’m using first names, too.

  He blows out a breath. “Possibly.”

  Again, ice cold fear, like fingers squeezing my heart. I speak without thinking. “Come back in. I’ll reassign it.”

  “The mission’s not lost yet.”

  “Get back to L.A. That’s an order.”

  Dune makes a noise that sounds like huh and says, “Copy that.”

  I end the call, trying to shake the bad feeling I have. I’m not one to believe in intuition, but it seems like something’s telling me Charlie’s in danger.

  Which makes me think of my dad’s death again. I’ve been mulling it over, and I remembered an old family friend, Sean Flack. He was a Marine, like my dad, but when I applied to the CIA, my mom said I should call him because he’d gone on to become the director of the agency. I hadn’t called because I don’t believe in using personal favors to get a job.

  Sean was at my dad’s funeral. I remember him standing in his crisp suit, comforting my mom. After I joined the CIA, he left and become a politician. He’s a senator now.

  I search for him in the CIA database.

  Status: Retired. File redacted. Just like my father’s. No surprise there.

  Would he talk to me? I don’t even know how I’d get through to him, but maybe he was good enough friends with my dad, he’ll give me a few minutes of his time.

  I call his office. “Yes, this is Annabel Gray, daughter of Major Jack Gray. My father and Senator Flack were Marine buddies. I really need to speak to Senator Flack about my father’s death. Would you have him call me?”

  “I will relay the message and see if the senator is available.”

  “Thank you.” I leave my number and hang up.

  If this lead gets me nowhere, I don’t know what other tree to bark up. I guess I keep trying to hack the system. Or make a personal visit to Langley to break into the paper files.

  Yeah, right. Like I know anything about stealing things in person. I’m a desk jockey, nothing more. Something like that would require field agent skills.

  Charlie Dune’s skills.

  Maybe I’m ready to call in that favor after all.

  A message blinks on my screen. Agent down in Tucson. Lucius Frangelico suspected of the murder.

  Holy shit. It could’ve been Charlie.

  Thank God, I called him back.

  3

  Charlie

  I drive back to California and go to my small apartment.

  The mountains are calling me. I had the urge to shift and run in Tucson but held it together. I was on a job. Now, with nothing to fill my time, I can’t stop thinking about it.

  It’s either that or beat down agent Annabel Gray’s door because I can’t seem to get her scent out of my nostrils or the dirty thoughts out of my mind.

  Fuck. I have to get myself under control.

  My phone blinks with an incoming call. Annabel’s burner phone. “Dune speaking.”

  “Charlie?” Annabel sounds breathless, frightened.

  Immediately, my senses go haywire—adrenaline spiking, heat flushing through. My cells try to rearrange like my body wants to shift to wolf form. I suck in a deep breath and force the urge back down.

  “Annabel? Where are you?” She has trackers on me which I already shut off because the mission was aborted, but I don’t have any on her.

  “In my apartment. Can you meet?”

  I’m already out the door, running for my vehicle. My brain flashes over a million scenarios. “Do you have a gun? Can you get somewhere safe?”

  I hear the tremble in her inhale, but her voice is calm. “Yes and yes. I think so.”

  I jump in the truck and start it up, cursing myself for not already changing this vehicle out for another one. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but someone’s been here.” Her voice raises on the last word.

  “All right. Sit down where you can see all the entrances and exits and keep your gun cocked and in your hand. Understand? Stay calm. What’s your address?”

  I’m relieved when I hear it’s not far from mine. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Call back if you hear or see anything.”

  “Okay. Okay. I will.” I can’t stand the fear in her voice.

  The fact she called me rather than the cops tells me she’s into something, which I’d already suspected. And if a CIA agent is into something, it has to be deep. Because we’re already on our own questionable side of the law.

  Danger usually makes me calm. I’m the sort of guy they sent into diffuse bombs in the war because I practically go serene under pressure, but thinking of Annabel in danger has me keyed up. Or maybe it’s the fucking wolf in me—maybe both. Either way, I have to work hard to find my usual Zen.

  I get there in fifteen minutes by stealth racing through the back routes of the city. I don’t see any cars that look like surveillance, but they could be anywhere—someone in an apartment across the street or one of the people walking by. I park around the corner and grab a plumber’s shirt and toolbox out of the trunk for a quick cover. Adopting a slight limp, I head into the building.

  It’s an open-air apartment building where all the doors open to outside landings. I take the concrete steps up the side, lumbering as if my hip causes me pain. When I find her apartment, I knock. “CD Plumbing,” I say, hoping she’ll figure out the CD stands for Charlie Dune. We have a code phrase, but for some reason, I don’t want to drop it.

  My newly enhanced hearing detects movement inside. She must be right up at the door. I lift the bill of my hat so she can see my eyes through the peephole, and she pulls open the door with an audible exhale. She has the government-issue pistol in her hand, and she’s wearing a business suit like she just came home from the office.

  “You have a leak, ma’am?” I step inside and wait for her to shut the door. The place has been trashed—boo
ks pulled down from bookshelves, cabinets emptied. Someone was searching for something. The moment I’m in, I drop the plumbing supplies and draw my gun, checking to make sure the place is clear even though it must be. Only when I’m sure—by both my traditional methods and my newly developing sense of smell—do I speak.

  “What’s going on?”

  Despite her fear, she’s all business. I’d expect nothing less of Agent Gray. She’s a smart and capable young woman.

  “Entered through the front door. I found it unlocked. Charlie—look at this.” She leads me to the bedroom and points at a framed photograph lying on her pillow. At first, I think it’s her with what must be her son, but then I realize the woman in the photo only resembles her—a sister then.

  “Any prints?”

  “I haven’t touched it. I didn’t touch anything. I just called you.”

  That shouldn’t make me feel a foot taller, but it does.

  I go back to my plumber’s toolbox and lift the basic tool tray away to reveal my more specialized tools. I dust the photograph for prints, but there are none. Same goes with the front door knob.

  “What are they looking for?”

  Fear flashes in her eyes, but she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  A lie.

  “Anything missing?”

  “No.”

  “Who’s in the photo?”

  Tears immediately pop into Annabel’s eyes, and she turns away to hide them. “My sister, Sarah and my nephew, Grady. And Dune—” she drags in a shaky breath. “I can’t get them on the phone.”

  I take her shoulders and turn her back to face me. “The photo is a warning. What is this about?”

  She blinks rapidly, her throat working. “I’ve been investigating something. Something personal. They told me to stop.”

  “And you didn’t.”

  She nods.

  “The organization told you to stop.” I want to be clear we’re dealing with CIA here.

  “Right.”

  “Okay, this is a classic scare tactic.” I pace around the room looking for more clues.

  “It’s a warning, not direct action. If they’d actually harmed your sister and nephew, you’d know it. So, they’re somewhere. We need to find them and put them out of reach.”

  “All right. Good.” Annabel’s shoulders inch down, her lips stop trembling. “I’m glad I called you—really glad.”

  I consider her. “I’d do this for you even if I didn’t owe you the favor. You should know that. But Annabel?”

  “Yes?” She lifts gray eyes to meet mine.

  “I need the whole story. What you’re researching—who’s involved.”

  She takes a small step backward and angles her body away from mine. “It’s an internal thing. You don’t need to know in order to protect my family.”

  The growl that comes out of my throat surprises me. It’s an animal sound. I grab her arm and spin her around to face me.

  “This isn’t a job. It’s personal—for you and for me. You don’t get to call that need to know bullshit with me.”

  Her lips press together. I don’t think she’s a natural redhead, but she sure as hell has the stubbornness to match her beautiful auburn locks.

  “It will put you in more danger.”

  I let out a harsh laugh and walk toward her, backing her up until she hits the wall. I lean on one hand beside her head, caging her in.

  “There’s one thing I won’t accept from you, Annabel—lies.”

  I swear to Christ, her eyes dilate like she’s turned on, rather than scared. I don’t know if turning her on was my intent before, but it sure as hell is now. I press forward, even more, letting the heat of my body brush against hers.

  “You’re the one in danger here, not me. You and your family. Don’t pretend I require protection, sweetheart. You want my help, all the cards go on the table. Otherwise, I’m walking out that door right now.”

  It’s not true. There’s no way in hell I’d leave Annabel in trouble and unprotected, but hopefully, she doesn’t know enough about me to be sure.

  I’m a highly trained special agent. I speak twelve languages fluently, know fifty-three ways to kill a man with my bare hands, but nothing in my training prepared me for Annabel yanking my mouth down to hers like her life depended on it.

  No one calls me slow though. I have her shirt off and her bra down in five seconds flat as she sucks my lower lip into her mouth. One of her long legs is around my waist, and she’s grinding her hot pussy over my cock.

  Of course, I’m considering every angle. I’m not stupid. This could be a calculated move to distract me from my line of questioning. Or a more sinister ploy—maybe the whole thing is a trap to get me into her place and nail me with something. But I taste desperation in her kisses, wild, frenzied need.

  If I can trust my gut, I’d say Annabel is upset and needs this release. And if I’m wrong? Well, I can handle myself against whatever she pulls. I’ve escaped from literally hundreds of deaths. I cup her breasts and thrust my hardened cock against the notch between her legs. Her scent gets up in my nostrils, and I sense the monster inside me throwing himself against the cage bars.

  Her soft lips move like her life depends on the kiss—quick, hungry twists and pulls. Her short skirt rides up to her waist, leaving just a thin pair of panties between me and her delectable pussy.

  “You need me to fuck you?” I rasp against her throat as she kisses along my neck, bites my shoulder.

  She gives her head a shake like she’s snapping out of something. “Uh, I don’t know.” Suddenly, she’s unsure again, fumbling and scared.

  No.

  I’m not going to let that happen. She wanted something from me, and I’m going to deliver it. I cup her ass and keep her in the perfect position.

  “Say no if you want me to stop,” I rumble against her ear. “Otherwise, I’m going to help you forget. Give you a release.”

  “Yes,” she breathes. “Make me forget. Just for a moment.”

  That’s all I need. I bounce her higher on the wall, so my lips reach her perky nipple. It is peachy-pink—just like I imagined, so perfect and delicate. I suck on it until it gets hard, then release it and flick it with my tongue.

  Her fingers burrow through my hair, and she arches and moans. Her breath comes fast with little needy cries on the exhales.

  Fuck it. Maybe this is the right time to be an animal. I shake a condom out of my wallet while Annabel attacks me with her lips, her teeth.

  “Christ, Annabel,” I curse. “Christ.” I get my dick out, and the condom rolled on while keeping her nailed to the wall which I’m pretty sure takes more skill than the average guy has.

  “Now, Charlie.”

  Oh God. I fucking love her getting bossy with me. Her desperation tears at me, fills me with the need to please her like no man ever has. But I don’t have time for that. This will have to be satisfying in that crazy impassioned way.

  I shove her panties to the side. One thrust and I’m deep inside her. She chokes on her gasp, and I stop, somehow dialing it back. “You okay?” I manage to say.

  “Move, Charlie. Please.”

  Yes, ma’am. That’s all the encouragement I need. I fuck her hard against the wall, ramming up into her with every thrust, holding her captive so I can drill deeper every time.

  “Is this what you need, sweetheart?”

  She digs her nails into the back of my neck and shakes her head. “Harder. Harder. Make it hurt.”

  Make it hurt?

  My need to satisfy her collides with the southern gentleman in me, the respectful soldier. Satisfaction wins out—or maybe it’s my goddamn wolf. Either way, I’m no longer capable of holding back. I fuck her so hard, I’m surprised I don’t bust a hole in the wall with her ass, and she takes it. She takes every savage stroke until she’s climbing me, screaming, begging in incoherent babble.

  I squeeze her breast, pinch her nipple. When I twist and pull, she comes, a keening cry issuing from h
er throat.

  I come, too, thrusting deep and staying there for my release.

  We breathe together, face to face, mouths touching but not kissing. I pick up the beat of her heart, thudding against her chest. Her scent consumes me. Even though I’ve already had her, I have the insane urge to rub my entire body over hers, covering her in my scent—marking her, so other males know to stay away.

  But that’s nuts.

  * * *

  Annabel

  The room spins. I’m lightheaded from the orgasm or maybe from the heat—I can’t tell. Fortunately, Charlie doesn’t let me go. He keeps me pinned against the wall, his cock still filling me as we both pant to recover our breaths.

  His eyes look blue again although there’s no sunlight hitting them now.

  I don’t feel guilty I just had sex while my sister and nephew are missing. Hell, if anything, I can rationalize I did this for them. I couldn’t think before, I was so wracked with fear. I needed this.

  And if I were the conniving type, which I’m not, I would say it was a good move to bond Charlie and further gain his sympathy. But that’s not why I did it.

  I don’t know why he did it, but I don’t care. I’m not going to ask anything more of him. Not going to expect a relationship—which he could never deliver. I just needed this human contact. Just needed to feel his support in this visceral, cathartic way.

  After a few moments, he eases out of me and lowers me to my feet. When he straightens my skirt, my chest squeezes a little at being cared for. It’s been a very long time since anyone did anything for me.

  “You ready to talk, baby?” He leans his forehead against mine as he deftly removes the condom and buttons up his pants with one hand.

  It’s not really a question, it’s a demand. I talk, or he walks. I love how commanding he is—how he manages to still be respectful at the same time.

  “Okay,” I croak.

  He leaves to dispose of the condom, and I feel the loss of him acutely. I still have the wall to hold me up, yet nothing will keep me from sliding down it and crumpling in a scared little ball on the floor.