Damage Report

by Mandy M. Roth

  He’d been unable to roam free in bear form for weeks and he couldn’t take one more day of it. He pulled his truck off to the side of the road near a large expanse of black walnut trees and a deep-set ravine and got out, his entire body tense. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to shift forms or just go on a killing spree. At the moment, both were in a dead heat. Never a good sign when you were doing your best to walk the path of the righteous.

  He nearly laughed at the idea he was holier than thou.

  Hardly.

  He had been to church in his lifetime, more than once even, but that was before he’d become what he was. Before the military and government scientists tried to play God. Before he ended up sharing his body with an ill-tempered bear who, when he didn’t get his way, got downright deadly. Though in all fairness, he’d apparently been hiding the genes needed to shift shapes somewhere deep in his genetic makeup, which was why he was a success when so many others were a failure. But the scientists couldn’t stop there. They couldn’t be content. No, they had wanted even more. Even better. They’d made him something even supernaturals were timid around.

  A shapeshifter with the power of a bear, a wolf, and a tiger all wrapped in one. He couldn’t shift into a wolf or tiger, but he carried trace amounts of their DNA. That wasn’t all. He had other abilities. Ones he’d been born with that the scientists had wanted to enhance to serve their own purposes. Didn’t work out as planned, though. He didn’t end up a savior to the world or even his country. Hell, he didn’t even end up something they could use. He’d been cast aside, and then they’d tried to eliminate him. Apparently, they couldn’t have an unpredictable bear-shifter running about. Especially one with the gift of foresight.

  He’d done well at keeping his head down and simply existing. He’d managed to turn a decent profit, taking money for hire jobs that utilized his skill set. Most of the jobs were for unsavory folks, doing illegal things, but the money was green and spent the same. Plus, no one asked for paperwork or made him fill out government forms. They just let him do his job and leave. No muss. No fuss.

  Perfect.

  “I’m a gun for hire,” he said softly with a slight snort, hating saying it out loud. He’d only ever wanted to do good with his life, but circumstances hadn’t allowed for that. Though, for every bad job he took, Weston tried to balance it out with an act of kindness. Like giving all the proceeds from certain jobs to charities. He wasn’t all bad. At least not yet.

  He was a guy who’d spent the last few decades trying to make amends for being a piece of shit earlier in life. So far, he wasn’t close to even. Didn’t help that he, like many of the surviving Outcasts, hired out for mercenary-like jobs, taking work where they could get it while living off the grid. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but the pay was good and it kept him out of the clutches of a government that would rather see him dead than admit they screwed up.

  And boy, did they screw up.

  He tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt. He’d bought the shirt, with a photo of a favorite rock band on the front of it, during a concert back in the seventies, and the piece of crap “vintage” ones retailers tried to pawn off on hipsters in the current market didn’t compare, so Weston took the time to remove it—shifting forms in it would leave it in shreds.

  He kicked his boots off and went to work on the button to his jeans. He couldn’t seem to get out of his clothes fast enough. Dammit. His body burned with the need to change. To let the bear in him run and then wander the woods, doing whatever the fuck it was bears liked to do. He never understood the lure of half of what his bear side found fun. Picking berries in human form didn’t do jack crap for him, but apparently, his bear side enjoyed it immensely. Weston just knew if he didn’t get it together and shift soon, the bear would more than likely go on a homicidal rampage.

  Weston, like his bear, wasn’t anything anyone would ever label as scrawny. Standing well over six feet, he had the mass to match his height and kept his bulk to just this side of being too much. He’d met men in the past who were all about trying to be the biggest and baddest. Most often they ended up being the slowest. Weston liked a mix of speed and strength. And there wasn’t much he could do about his height. He’d been born with it. Normally, that wasn’t too much of an issue, unless he was entering a room with low doorways. But as he tried to shimmy out of his clothing, he found his size a hindrance. He hopped on one foot as he tugged off his jeans. The moment he was fully naked and about to shift forms, headlights pierced the darkness on the road that was rarely traveled.

  “Son of a bitch,” he shouted, stepping behind the side of his truck, knowing he’d already been seen in all his naked glory. He had no issue with nudity, but humans tended to. They were prudish, to say the least. He didn’t need the local sheriff showing up to question him about his midnight escapades.

  The SUV pulled to a stop in front of his truck and Weston groaned when the driver stepped out. It wasn’t the sheriff, but that wasn’t saying much. He stared at his fellow Outcast and friend. “Casey, are you stalking me? Man, if you wanted to see me naked you just had to ask. You didn’t need to hunt me down.”

  “Heard you’d be here.” The tall, raven-haired man flipped Weston off and then opened the back door to his SUV. When a tiny, wiry-haired man who looked a lot like he belonged in a mental ward exited the SUV and was then followed by a thin, pale man who stared in any direction but at a person, Weston tipped his head. The two sidekicks seemed to be attached to Casey of late. One was goofier than the other.

  “You brought them here? Why?” he demanded, naked and unconcerned.

  Casey pinched the bridge of his nose. They’d been friends a long time. The stress in Casey’s expression warned Weston there was more to this than he was going to like. Casey pointed to the thin, pale guy. “Gus insisted we come.”

  “He’s the mind reader, right?” asked Weston, stepping out from behind his truck and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t give a rat’s ass that his junk was there for everyone to see. Let them look.

  Whatever.

  The wiry-haired guy’s gaze snapped right to Weston’s package. “Wow. The scientists gave you that?”

  Weston’s gums burned with the need to change and eat the tiny nuisance. “Casey.”

  Casey touched the small man’s shoulders. “Bill, remember what we talked about on the way over?”

  Bill nodded. “Stand still. Don’t talk. If I don’t listen, the bear guy might eat me.”

  “That’s right,” said Casey, sounding more like a primary school teacher trying to soothe a small child than the bad-ass super soldier he was. “So asking Weston about his dick counts as talking.”

  Bill touched his chin and did an obvious ponder over Casey’s statement. He shrugged and looked around Casey, pointing to Weston’s groin. “Did you get a look at that? Are you all hung like that? Where do I sign up for that test and enhancement? All I got was LSD. Who do I complain to? We should get those standard at the door if we get tested on by the government. Seems the least they could do.”

  Weston tipped his head. “Can I eat him, please?”

  Casey glanced over his shoulder. “He really can’t help himself. They did a number on him.”

  “They did a number on us all, but you don’t see me asking about his dick,” stated Weston. No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the crazy little guy started to remove his clothing. The guy was furrier than Weston was in shifted form. And the man had nothing Weston wanted to see. “Seriously, I’m going to eat him. It would be a service to mankind.”

  Casey grabbed the crazy man. “Bill, no getting naked. We’ve already had this talk.”

  Gus began to pace back and forth, flapping one of his hands in the air as he did. “More than once. Had the talk more than once.”

  Casey glanced in the pale’s guy direction. “Gus, no need to get worked up. I’ve got this. Go stand by Weston’s truck.”

  “Great, I get the nut job who is tuned in to channel static,” mutter
ed Weston, only partially under his breath. He still couldn’t figure out why Casey saddled himself with these two. They were dead weight. They weren’t shifters. They weren’t part of the Immortal Ops testing, where the government had tried to make super soldiers, like Casey and Weston had been. No. Gus and Bill were humans who had gotten caught up in government testing—the not-too-fucked-up stuff and honestly that wasn’t saying much when you had men who could shift into animal as a comparison.

  “He’s naked. I wanna be naked too,” argued Bill, sounding childlike rather than the old man he was. “All the rage, apparently.”

  “Had the talk more than once,” continued Gus, sounding like a broken record. He turned in fast circles near Weston, making Weston slightly dizzy. “More than once.”

  Weston groaned and snatched his jeans from the ground. He wasn’t going to get to wander and run tonight. Damn Casey for being a bleeding heart. The guy had always been that way. Hell, he’d befriended Weston because of it when many others wouldn’t have dared to get near him. “Want to tell me why you’re here? And why it is you brought the two stooges with you.”

  Casey had hold of Bill’s pants and was trying to keep them on the wiry little man. “Shit. Bill, come on. Cut me a break here.”

  Gus paced more and then pounded on the hood of Weston’s truck. “Got to warn him. Got to warn him.”

  “This one sprung a brain leak,” said Weston to Casey. “If he gets any brain goo on my truck, I’m gonna eat him. That crap is hard to wash off.”

  Gus stopped pacing and turned, his attention near Weston, and that meant something. The guy normally didn’t appear to pay full attention to anything. The hair on the back of Weston’s neck rose a second before he heard the man in his mind—on the same mental path the I-Ops had been trained to use. She’s in danger.

  Weston’s gaze whipped to Casey. You hear him in your head too?

  I do, returned Casey on the same mental path.

  Gus wasn’t a shifter and he wasn’t an Immortal Op or even one of the failed Op attempts—an Outcast. He was something entirely different, and the guy had somehow managed to tap into their mental path of communication. Whatever he was, something deep in Weston’s gut gnawed at him, demanding he at least hear the nut job out before dismissing him.

  “Who is in danger? Harmony?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why Casey would come running to him if his mate was in danger, but not a lot had been making sense lately. From the moment Weston had surfaced, letting others know he wasn’t dead, things had been plain old weird. He was pissed he hadn’t just stayed hidden. Things were simpler then. None of this drama bullshit.

  He sighed, knowing that had he remained hidden, Casey’s mate would have died. When Weston had learned Casey had a mate and that she was in danger, he’d stopped hiding in the shadows and he’d gone on a mission in search of the young woman. Harmony was feisty, opinionated, spoiled and someone he considered a friend. And he didn’t have too many of those. “She okay?”

  Casey held Bill off the ground by his belt. “Harmony is safe at home. Laney is over with her and James is hovering. They’re trying to shut down sites that are posting information about the Ops testing. And they’re also trying to assist in finding any sort of a digital trail to Lance.”

  “The I-Op guy?” asked Weston. “So rumors are true? He’s not six feet under?”

  Casey shook his head. “Nope. More like six shades in the wind. He’s a puppet for an asshole vampire who is working with the regular known bad guys.”

  “Krauss and Helmuth?” asked Weston, his interest piqued. He’d been looking into each of them for some time. One was worse than the other and they’d taken to teaming up. Never a good sign.

  Casey nodded. “And some vampire.”

  “Shit. And you’re sure Harmony and Laney are safe?”

  “Yep. James is with them. Why?” asked Casey, still struggling with Bill.

  Weston thumbed at Gus who was now batting at the air around his head as if bugs were bothering him. “He jacked my brain and said she’s in danger. I thought he meant Harmony.”

  Casey sighed. “James is with the girls. They’re fine.”

  Weston snorted. Of course James was near them. The guy was mated to Laney, Harmony’s best friend. Made sense. Casey wouldn’t go far from Harmony if she didn’t have a protector nearby. James would do.

  Weston eyed Gus who was now spinning in a circle. “Is his head gonna pop off?”

  Casey carried Bill over and gave Weston a pleading look. “Can you get dressed so he stops trying to get naked?”

  “Free Willy!” yelled the crazed man. He jerked around in Casey’s arms, attempting to break free. “Let me be free! I want to feel the wind on my face.”

  “It’s not your face you want wind on,” said Casey, struggling to keep Bill clothed.

  Weston slipped his jeans back on and put his arms out wide. “See. Covered.”

  Bill stopped acting a fool and calmed in Casey’s arms. “You let the man win. I’ve lost all respect for you, Yogi.”

  “Yogi?” he asked.

  Casey paled. “As in the bear.”

  Weston nearly laughed. For a crazy guy, he was amusing. “Casey, let the guy run naked in the woods. What harm can he do?”

  Casey’s eyes widened. “If you only knew.”

  Bill beamed. “You’re all right by me, Yogi.”

  “Call me that again and I will break you in two,” warned Weston. He was touchy about his bear-shifter side.

  Bill pursed his lips. “Can I call you Papa Bear?”

  Weston stared at Casey. “Really, it would be nothing for me to kill him and take him off your hands.”

  Casey snorted. “I’ll think about it. Now, Weston, please listen. Gus insisted we track you down.”

  Weston watched Gus as he swatted at nothing. He lifted a brow, wondering why the hell the crazy guy would want to find him. And how he’d managed to find him so quickly. Instead of asking, he looked to Casey, waiting for his friend to explain it all.

  Casey grabbed Bill by the belt loop and faced Weston. “I trust Gus. He’s different but he’s brilliant, and he’s connected to stuff we can’t begin to understand.”

  “Okay,” said Weston, waiting for the point.

  “He says your mate is in trouble,” stated Casey, sucking in a large breath afterwards.

  Weston snorted, trying to play off the concern that lanced through him. His most recent dreams came flooding back to him, and for a split second he even smelled berries and cream. Weston fought to stay in control as he looked to Gus. He’d heard of what Gus could do, of the man’s special gifts, but Weston wasn’t sure he was totally ready to believe in them. Didn’t matter that he possessed enough of his own to make people doubt him too at times. He wanted to know everything the strange guy knew, but it wasn’t like him to ask for help. He’d been on his own for far too long to start now. “I don’t have a mate.”

  “Said just about every alpha male until he happens upon his,” countered Casey snidely. He then stepped forward, yanking Bill with him. “You saved my mate. I’m here to try to return that favor. If Gus says she’s in trouble, I believe him. So should you.”

  Weston held his sharp-witted response and went with, “Okay, does he have any idea who this mate of mine is? That would be the first step to this, right? Before we can save her, don’t we have to know who she is?”

  Casey glanced at Gus. “He told me you needed to go to Seattle. That you’d cross paths with her there and that you needed to go soon.”

  “And you buy into this all?” asked Weston, already knowing his friend did. They’d both seen too much in their lives to discount anything, no matter how weird it seemed. “You think I should drop everything and head cross-country to a huge city, and I’ll just magically walk into my supposed mate? A mate I don’t think exists.”

  Berries and cream, said Gus in Weston’s mind, making him gasp and nearly lose his composure. She smells like berries and cream.

  Casey le
t go of Bill but gave him a stern look.

  Bill grinned. “I win.”

  “If Gus isn’t wrong?” asked Casey, ignoring the small man’s goading.

  Weston’s gut tensed. “I’m listening to him. I’ll head to Seattle and see what I can scare up information-wise there. I appreciate the heads up.”

  “You want me to head to Seattle with you?” asked Casey. “We might have better luck if two of us are looking.”

  Shaking his head, Weston reached for his shirt. “No, man, you’ve got a brand new bride here, and with the shit that’s been going down, it would be unwise to travel that far from her.”

  The look on Casey’s face said he knew as much. “But I will, for you.”

  “I know. But no. I’ll go alone.”

  Bill clapped. “Gus and I will go with you!”

  Weston’s expression sank. He was not signing on to babysit anyone. “Hell no.”

  Casey’s lips pursed. “You know, that may work. Bill speaks fluent Gus and Gus is somehow tapping into your mate and her destiny.”

  “Is this a trick to get me to take the stooges from you?” Weston pulled his shirt over his head. “You realize you’ll never see them again because I’ll eat them.”

  Bill moved closer to Casey. “Tell him I don’t taste good without hot sauce.”

  “Tell him I can hear him,” returned Weston, snapping his jaws at the man.

  Bill jumped in place.

  Gus paused in his circles and looked something close to the direction Weston was standing in. “We’ll pack.”

  “Oh, no,” said Weston, shaking his head. “No!”

  Chapter Two

  “How was the plane ride?” asked Casey, a teasing note in his voice.

  Weston had to keep from crushing his cell phone with one hand as he held it to his ear and glanced over to be sure his traveling companions weren’t getting into any more trouble. “Eat me, dickhead. You know exactly how the plane ride was.”

  Casey laughed. “Forgot to tell you that Gus doesn’t fly well.”