Fur Fox's Sake (Shifters Undercover Book 2)

by Milly Taiden

  “Wait a minute,” Marika nosed in. She turned to Rupen. “Who are you to know this Perry in the past? How long has he been gone? What is Barry to you? You going to kill him?” Her fox stretched, ready to take this man down again if he threatened her friend’s mate.

  “It’s not like that, Mari,” Charli said. Her eyes darted to Rupen. “At least, I hope it’s not. Why don’t you tell them more about yourself? It could help us all understand what you know about aliens and shifters better.”

  Barry gasped. Mari glanced back and forth between them like there was a ping pong match going on.

  “No fucking way. Aliens?” Barry said. Mari bit her lip. Man, this secret-keeping stuff was hard.

  Rupen shifted in his chair, looking like he was getting settled in for a long story. Mari so wanted to hear this. She was already studying the connection so anything he said would probably help her in her research.

  “I am one of the commanders of a military unit that doesn’t have a name. We do a lot of special ops that must be done under the radar, so to speak.”

  “Like the Navy SEALs?” Marika asked.

  “Yes,” Rupen said. “We often let the SEALs take credit for our work to help keep our identity quiet.”

  Marika’s brow raised. “And what is your purpose here?”

  “I’m glad you asked, Ms. Paters.”

  “Please, call me Marika since we’re learning everyone’s history.”

  “Thank you, Marika. I am honored,” Rupen said.

  Her brow went even higher. He was a smooth talker. And she had to admit, he was cute. But he wasn’t “the one.” She’d found her man. And now she needed to focus on Rupen or she’d slide into daydreams of her sexy mate.

  Rupen looked at Barry. “We are here to take Perry with us to be debriefed on his past AWOL years. He’s considered a deserter since he’s alive. The military doesn’t take kindly to a soldier who does that.”

  Charli huffed and crossed her arms, leaning against Barry’s chest. He kissed her temple. Mari’s fox sighed, thinking of her kiss with Devin. His lips were soft and demanding. Damn, she wanted to spend time with him. Lunch couldn’t come quick enough. She shook her head to get back in the game.

  “Here’s what I’m struggling with.” Rupen gave a nod toward her friend on the sofa. Marika caught Charli’s worried eyes. Whatever this decision was, she felt Charli’s whole world was about to change.

  The man set his eyes on the bear shifter. “Perry—”

  “Barry. I am Barry now. My past is what it is. I won’t let it define who I am today and who I love. Whatever happened back then is over. Perry is dead.”

  Rupen sat back with his arms crossed. “Barry,” he started again, “I have the ability to give you your past back. Question is how you will handle knowing the truth.”

  “Give it back how?” Charli asked, suspicion and fear rolling from her. She didn’t seem to trust him even though he was part of her fellowship. But he was from the government, so . . .

  Rupen cleared his throat. “Each of the men have a ‘shutdown’ trigger in case of capture. When they realize they are in the hands of the enemy, a part of their brain goes blank.”

  “What do you mean ‘goes blank’?” Barry asked. He seemed more intrigued than frightened.

  “Under hypnosis,” Rupen said, “you were given a command to forget your past so the enemy could not access those memories to use against us. No matter the torture, you would have nothing to reveal.”

  “That’s horrible,” Charli cried. “You can’t do that to people.”

  Stoic, Rupen replied, “We have for years and will continue to until another way to ensure the safety of our country is found. Now,” he turned to Barry, “is it strategically better for me to unlock your brain here with Marika and Charli available for questions, or wait until we’re back at HQ?”

  Marika chewed on her lower lip, still analyzing the situation. If Barry did get his memory back, the biggest question was which personality would rule? Was he a good person or bad person? Being in the military, he may have killed lots of people. Could personalities combine into one? Damn, this was fascinating. What she wouldn’t do to be in Barry’s head, right now.

  Seemed no verbal communication was needed between the shifter and his mate. Did they talk to each other’s minds? The air grew thick with worry and concern. She’d need to open the door if this kept up. Those two emotions stunk the worst next to fear. Fear scented like someone crawled up your ass and died. Worry and concern smelled like farts. And in a cramped room, smelling like someone ripped a big, juicy one, life wasn’t good.

  Barry took Charli’s face in his hands and kissed her, deep and long. After coming up for air, he laid his forehead against hers. “You know I love you, don’t you?” Charli nodded, tears streaming from her eyes. “Nothing will change that. Together, we can deal with who I was and put that man to bed where he won’t bother us anymore.” Charli wiped at the wet drops on her face and nodded.

  “Remember,” he continued, “no matter what your eyes and ears may tell you about me, listen to your heart.”

  Oh my god, Marika thought as a tear escaped her eye. That line should be in a movie where the hero was about to risk his life to save the heroine.

  Barry looked at Rupen. “What do I have to do?”

  Rupen stood. “I will give you another trigger word that will ‘release’ your memories. But I warn you, Frid. You may not like the person you’ve been, especially since your disappearance. But it’s as important for me to know where you have been as it is for you.” Barry met him halfway between the furniture. “Are you ready?” Rupen asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” the shifter breathed out. “Will this take long? I’m about to upchuck my breakfast onto your shoes.” The big cheese of the fellowship quickly put his hands onto Barry’s head. The room fell completely quiet, except for the heartbeats her fox’s super ears picked up from the others. Or was that just hers pounding so hard?

  Rupen leaned against Barry’s ear. Marika heard a whisper of breath, but not what was said. Barry mumbled something she couldn’t understand. His volume increased as his neck twisted. “No, no.” Barry’s body jerked, arms slightly swinging at his sides. “Please,” he begged. “No.” Barry fell to his knees. His voice carried from his bear, deep and scratchy. “Take it back.”

  Rupen stepped back and stood before the reborn man. Kneeling on a lump of papers, Barry dropped his head into his hands. Heart-wrenching cries came from Barry. Or was it Perry now? Either way, his hands balled into fists, his entire body trembling. His mumbling returned. He said something about his legs.

  When Marika stepped closer, she heard the shifter whisper into his clenched fingers, “I am so sorry, Charli. Please find it in your heart to forgive me one day.” With shifter quickness, Barry was on his feet and out the door. The guards aimed weapons at him in the hallway.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Devin stood in the middle of the deceased Senator Hayseed’s home office, wondering how he should proceed. Usually in this kind of situation, he had only seconds to scour everything and get out before the bad guy returned. Now having all the time in the world, he hesitated. He hadn’t realized how years of undercover work had molded him into the person he was.

  He was completely different from the young, gung-ho rookie who couldn’t wait to get to the station to start working. So much had happened over the years to kill that persona. Especially the past year and losing everyone he loved.

  Pushing those thoughts away, he headed to the table that held files, books, and other crap. Sifting through file folders, he skimmed numerous legislative memos, letters, and propaganda from lobbyists. Seemed the senator focused on the oil and gas industry.

  He flipped open a very large binder and read the front page: Deepwater Horizon Crisis. The four-hundred-page binder about the catastrophic oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico barely looked touched. He pulled on a cream sheet of paper sticking out of the back cover. The word Confidential wa
s stamped across the top. In a plain font style with no pretty graphics or fancy color he saw DHC Classified. It read of a terrible event that plainly presented and proved the truth of the accident.

  “Fucking figures,” Devin said. He had every confidence the senator was involved in other events where the real story was also confidential. A rolled-up bundle of papers caught his eye. He cleared a space on the table and took the rubber band from the roll. His hands smoothed sideways, laying out the land survey. Placing binders on both sides, he was able to stand back and get an overview of the map.

  The image displayed the upper western section of the country, from Seattle, Washington, to Sacramento, California. A red line snaked between the two cities. Glancing at the reference section to the side of the map, the red line represented a pipeline. Now the title of the map made sense: Sea-Sac Pipeline.

  He flipped the sheet to the side to see what the next rendering was. The town of Shedford dominated the image, with the red line running mostly east of town through the hills and forests. But a small section looked like it might cross town limits in one location on the far southern outskirts.

  Other pages showed various views of other towns and where the pipeline would be in relation to them. That was interesting, but nothing about it seemed illegal, especially since the project was still in the drawing stages. The last sheet, though, showed something else.

  The names of the towns on the maps were listed on the left side with dollar amounts on the right. A yellow highlight had been drawn over Shedford and its money line. The dollar total was almost a half-billion dollars. None of the other towns were near that amount. The word Compensation was across the top of the sheet.

  What in the hell was a town like Shedford going to do with that much money? Maybe something wasn’t quite on the up and up with this project. He needed to find out who headed the project, who won the most from it, and who opposed it. After rolling up the papers, he replaced the rubber band around the middle and set the tube on the table.

  From his sports jacket pocket, he pulled his phone. Clicking the icon for the Internet, he waited for the default search engine to load. In the search box, he typed in Sea-Sac Pipeline. There weren’t many articles on the topic. A Newsweek report stated that such an idea was circulating, but the journalist doubted such a project would be accomplished with so much resistance from those worried about the environmental effects.

  An oil-and-gas-industry magazine had an article describing the benefits of having a quick, easy means of pumping oil from the north, through the mountains, to California. According to the article, millions of dollars would be saved in shipping costs, and less greenhouse gasses would be produced. The project was spearheaded by an oil company in northern California.

  He slid his phone into his pocket and made his way to the laptop on the desk. If he was lucky, the old senator would be one of those who left their computers on all the time, and didn’t have a password-protected screen saver. He sat and wiggled his finger on the touchpad. The image on the screen disappeared to reveal Hayseed’s personal e-mail. Hell, yeah. He loved people who weren’t savvy in technology. It made it so much easier to snoop.

  He clicked in the mail search box and typed in pipeline. Nothing. Of course not. That would be too easy. He tried oil, Sacramento, pipe, and a couple of other wild guesses and again, came up with nothing. Another tactic was needed.

  Scooting the mouse to the left side of the screen, he clicked on Sent. A line of e-mails popped up. The last message was sent this morning, obviously before the senator went for his morning run. He clicked on it to open.

  Continue with the project. I will send my account numbers for the deposit later today.

  Once the transaction is completed, I will take care of the problem here.

  Short and to the mysterious point. Could the project be the pipeline? Money was involved, probably a lot, if the town and money list was correct. What was the problem here? Looked like the problem took care of him first. He leaned back in the cushy leather desk chair and spied the ivy plant exactly like the one he had mysteriously received this morning and a landline answering machine.

  He pushed the Rewind button. It was a message from a family member. He rewound another message, then listened.

  “It’s Klamin. Meet me and Shyler at the café, two o’clock.”

  Again, short and to the mysterious point. Who were Klamin and Shyler? Devin was willing to bet one of these people was the killer. Shyler . . . that name sounded familiar. Shit, did he know who the killer was?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Klamin sat behind his desk and pondered how to get his animal weapon out of the hands of the police before they got a chance to study it. Dammit. If they understood any of the implications, his plan would be blown to shit. And he refused to let years of research and work get pissed away.

  He picked up his phone and speed-dialed the mayor of Shedford. When his soon-to-be high-and-mighty congressman answered, he started in.

  “Shyler, I need you to go to wherever the weapon is being kept and destroy it before the humans get to it. You have access to all the city departments, right?”

  “Hello to you too, Klamin.” The mayor’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. “I went to the ME’s office as soon as I heard the police brought in an animal. It’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?” His anger built quickly. If he had to go up there, it wouldn’t be pretty.

  “The agent veterinarian from the fellowship had already taken the body. The ME gave permission when the agent explained a vet needed to do the autopsy.”

  Klamin’s fist smashed onto the top of his desk. “Where did she take it?”

  “Either her clinic or possibly the FAWS facility. I know shifters work in the lab.”

  “What the fuck is FAWS?”

  “It’s the Fish and Wildlife Service in Ashville. They are quite good at what they do.”

  He snorted. “What do they do? Fish all day?”

  “Actually,” the mayor said, “they have state-of-the-art forensic technology, and we’ve sent evidence to them several times to run tests.”

  Dammit. This was not what he wanted to hear. If they were any good, they’d be able to break down and identify the enhancements to the animal. Humans hadn’t even yet discovered how to create the covering the fur attached to. And they never would without the alien material needed to create it.

  “You don’t have any pull there, do you?” Klamin asked.

  “It’s federal, so no. I can request shit, but they are under no obligation to comply.”

  He sighed. “Do you have a contact there? Someone with authority.”

  “Not really,” the mayor replied. “But all the paperwork I see is signed by someone named Paters. This person probably holds some important position. Maybe lead scientist or head of a department.”

  He thought about what they could do to get to this person. A plan formulated in his head. “Shyler, call this person and nicely insist they meet with a fellow scientist setting up a new lab here in town. Their expert opinion and thoughts about the lab would be great. People love to give their opinion, even if not asked for. Tell them someone will call shortly with a time and location.”

  “Got it. I’ll call you back with the full name and contact number for the person.”

  “Good.” He hung up and sat back in his chair. He had to destroy the animal if he couldn’t get his hands on it.

  Others had no idea how many generations of mutated human-animal failures previous research teams, as well as he, had gone through. And then on the first test run, he fucking lost one of his best. How damn hard was it to kill an old man jogging in the woods? Granted, said man had a gun, but that was what the animals were created for. He needed to talk with his scientist to fix this weakness.

  Dammit, Perry would normally be on his way to the lab to get Sloan for him. Now he had to go himself. Rolling his chair back and heading for the lab, he thought about having the idiot he had sent on the kill mission thi
s morning call the scientist. No, he had to get Perry back. Even if he had to take out the female vet.

  At least with Hayseed out of the way, he could put the mayor under his thumb. Shyler knew exactly what could happen if he decided to turn traitor. Shyler’s first legislative move would be to stop that damn pipeline from going through his land.

  His entire compound was hidden underground, and if digging machines, construction crews, and ground survey groups followed the current plans, they would work directly above his underground facility for several hundred feet. He couldn’t chance them drilling or digging down and hitting his concrete bunker. But that had been solved, so he could get the crew back on schedule.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Stop, don’t kill him,” Colonel Rupen shouted to his men pointing weapons at Barry’s back as he ran down the hallway at FAWS. “Follow him.” The lieutenant colonel stood at the entrance to Marika’s office. If her eyes weren’t deceiving her, she would swear he had aged twenty years in the last thirty seconds.

  Charli darted out of the room, screaming for her mate to come back.

  Marika sat behind her desk, stunned from such strong emotions thrown around. She had never felt how raw and ragged a soul could be. But watching a soul shatter tore her apart inside.

  Deflecting her painful train of thought, she looked at Rupen frowning, sadness filling his eyes. She asked, “Aren’t you worried you’ll never find him again?”

  “I want him alive. He knows who he is and will contact his base as soon as his head settles. He’s programmed for that. I’ve informed his CO we might have found him and to be ready to move quickly to bring him home. They will debrief him and get back to me.”

  “Can’t you just track him down and bring him back?” Mari asked.

  He smiled the first genuine smile she’d seen on him today. “Sorry, he’s a shifter. It doesn’t work that way.” Marika almost laughed at his words. How many times had she repeated that last phrase to the man in bed with her? Not that she slept with a lot of guys. She could count all her past lovers on one hand with two fingers left over. And for many months now, maybe over a year, she hadn’t had sex with a man. Note that toys were not men. She’d had a few big Os with the assistance of Devine, her customized Sybian machine.