by Paige Tyler
Buchanan growled, canines flashing. “Liar! I can smell her musk all over you.”
Damn. Why the hell did the jealous wannabe boyfriend have to have such a keen sense of smell?
Maybe he could talk Buchanan down.
The shifter’s claws came out.
Or maybe not.
The fight in the pugil pit showed he wasn’t a match for the shifter—not without a weapon. Landon dodged Buchanan’s claws and leaped over the back of the couch, hoping it would slow the shifter down long enough for him to find something to defend himself with. He should have known better. Buchanan jumped over the couch like it wasn’t even there, grabbed Landon by an arm, and threw him across the room.
Landon hit the antique table Ivy had painstakingly refurbished with a resounding crash. It crushed like kindling beneath him and he fell to the floor hard. Knowing what destroying Ivy’s beloved table would do to her was worse than any pain he felt, and he wanted to kill Buchanan for hurting her.
What if Buchanan turned his rage on Ivy and physically hurt her, too? The thought scared Landon.
When Buchanan came at him this time, Landon kicked the shifter’s legs out from under him. He fell with a thud that should have slowed him down for at least a few seconds, but he immediately scrambled to his feet and charged.
Landon launched himself at the shifter, driving Buchanan into the wall so hard his head cracked the plaster before bouncing off. Buchanan snarled and swung at Landon, gouging four deep furrows across his chest.
Landon ground his teeth against the pain. It felt like he’d been sliced open by a piece of barbed wire.
He didn’t have time to think about it, though. Buchanan was already coming at him again. Landon swore, ducking before the shifter could rip out his throat. Landon immediately retaliated, delivering a solid punch to Buchanan’s jaw and following it with an elbow to the solar plexus. Unfortunately, all that did was piss off Buchanan even more. He let out a roar that shook the walls, then grabbed Landon and flung him across the room like he was a rag doll.
This time he landed on the countertop in Ivy’s kitchen. The impact with the granite, not to mention the cabinet the back of his head smacked into, hurt like hell. Ignoring it, he grabbed the biggest carving knife from the block and rolled off the counter, then backed up until he was against the pantry door.
Even with the knife, Landon wasn’t sure it was a fair fight. He had a weapon and skill, but Buchanan was an animal acting on pure instinct. His human side—the only part that might have made him think twice about killing—looked like it was gone. He wanted blood, and once he got it, there’d be nothing to keep him from going after Ivy next. The only way to stop the shifter was to put him down for good. Providing Buchanan didn’t get him first.
The shifter barely glanced at the blade as he vaulted over the counter and advanced on Landon.
Landon shifted his weight to his back foot, ready to duck and lunge the second the shifter swiped at him with those claws. If Landon timed it right, he’d have a free shot at Buchanan’s heart.
Buchanan lifted his arm, claws extended.
Landon got ready.
Shit, this was going to be bad.
Suddenly, a white blur hurtled over the counter and smacked into Buchanan, sending him crashing to the floor.
Ivy.
She landed lightly on her feet in the center of the kitchen. Dressed in a short robe, her long hair still dripping from the shower, she looked small and fragile standing between him and Buchanan.
The shifter rose to his feet, eyes blazing. Landon immediately moved to step in front of Ivy, but she kept herself between him and Buchanan. A low growl emanated from his throat. Ivy growled back, her hands whipping out to either side, her curved claws fully extended.
Buchanan snarled, lips pulled back from his fangs as he took a threatening step forward.
Landon reached for Ivy so he could pull her out of harm’s way, but the sound she unleashed stopped him in his tracks. Half human cry of rage and half pure cat hiss, it was unlike anything he’d ever heard in his life. It stopped Buchanan, too. It probably would have stopped a charging bull.
The fury disappeared from Buchanan’s face, his claws retracted, his eyes returned to their normal color.
Landon moved to stand beside Ivy, but she put her hand on his chest, keeping him where he was. That was when he realized her feline scream wasn’t the only thing that had shocked Buchanan back to his senses. Her face was a mask of rage, her eyes pure green, her fangs long and glistening. And that rage was aimed squarely at the man in front of her.
She glanced at Landon, let out a sound that was half snarl, half plea as she nudged him back. Don’t get between her and Buchanan. Period.
He gave her a nod but didn’t step back. The threat from Buchanan might have passed, but he still wasn’t going to let her stand up to the shifter alone.
Buchanan stared at her in shock, taking in her protective stance as well as the sharp claws that were still extended and ready as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“My God, Ivy. I can smell him all over you. Do you have any idea what that does to me?” The shifter’s voice was filled with pain. Unfortunately, Landon couldn’t seem to summon any pity for him. “How could you sleep with him?”
Landon ground his jaw. He wanted to tell Buchanan who Ivy slept with was none of his damn business, but that would only start another fight.
“I slept with him because I…” She broke off, her voice throaty and rough. “Why I slept with him is none of your business, Clayne. I can see I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But who I sleep with is my choice.”
He let out a low growl. “What about us?”
Ivy cut him off with a hiss. “There is no us. Not like that. There never was. I made that clear to you over and over, but you wouldn’t listen. We’re friends. And if you still value that friendship, you’ll respect my decision.”
Buchanan regarded her in silence for a long time, then turned without another word and stormed out.
Ivy sighed, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet apartment. Landon set the knife down on the counter and gently touched her arm.
“Hey. You okay?”
She turned to face him. Her claws were in, her eyes were back to their normal color, and her fangs were gone. She was definitely far from being back to normal, though. She was hurting, he could see it on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She reached up to cup his cheek. Her hand was warm and gentle. “You have nothing to be sorry about. That fight with Clayne has been coming for a long time. You just happened to be the final straw.”
“But I can still be sorry I was that last straw. And I’m sorry about your table.”
She made a face. “Forget about the table. I’m glad he didn’t hurt you.”
“It’d take a lot more than razor-sharp claws and fangs the size of railroad spikes to hurt me.” The joke wasn’t as funny when he said it out loud. “Ivy, you and Buchanan were friends for a long time. I didn’t mean to come between that.”
“He came between that, not you. What’s done is done, and I wouldn’t have acted any differently if I had it to do over again.”
He caught the hand she was resting on his cheek and pressed it to his lips. “I’d rather you promise me you’ll never do anything as crazy as jumping between me and a psycho like Buchanan again.”
“That’s a promise I can’t make. If someone or something I care about is in danger, nothing will stop me from protecting them.”
“Protective I understand. Just temper it with a little caution, okay? I thought Buchanan was going to hurt you.”
“I was more worried about what he was going to do to you.” The corner of her mouth curved into a rueful smile. “Besides, it’s not like I had a choice about putting myself between you and him. When I ran out and saw you two fighting—not j
ust fighting, but ready to kill each other this time—I zoned out again like I did in South America.”
“I thought we talked about you trying to control that instinct, so that didn’t happen again.”
“I know. But keeping my animal side in check takes a lot of control, and I lost that when I saw Clayne was about to rip out your throat. I would have killed him if it meant protecting you. I’ll do anything to protect the people who are important to me.”
Landon didn’t even want to think about Ivy fighting Buchanan. He brushed her damp hair back from her face. “Can you at least let me know when your shifter side feels like it’s going to take over so I can be prepared? If for no other reason than to protect you from yourself.”
She nodded a little too quickly, as if she was agreeing simply to placate him. But she started fussing over the scratches on his chest before he could call her on it. She wet a dishtowel with water and gently dabbed at the wounds, carefully washing away the blood.
“Damn him. The last claw marks hadn’t even started to heal yet.”
Landon looked down at his chest. After the initial pain, he hadn’t thought much about the scratches, but now he saw they crossed over the ones Buchanan had given him in the pugil pit a few days ago. The new set was deeper, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on their own.
“But they’ll leave scars,” Ivy protested when he said as much.
“I’ve gotten worse.” He grinned. “Besides, these will be a reminder of what I had to go through to earn your affection.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sweet talker.”
He chuckled and bent to kiss her. He slid his hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and suddenly remembered that shower they were going to finish. Unfortunately, it was going to have to wait a little longer. He reluctantly lifted his head.
“Do you think Buchanan will tell the DCO about us?”
Ivy’s face was thoughtful as she ran her fingers over the claw marks on his chest. “I hope not, but I honestly don’t know. I want to believe Clayne wouldn’t deliberately hurt me like that, but after what he did today, I realize I don’t know him nearly as well as I thought.”
He tilted up her chin. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”
Behind them, someone knocked on the door. Landon forgot Buchanan had left it open.
He jerked his head up to see a teenager standing in the doorway, a red warming bag in his hand. The kid’s gaze went wide as he took in the destruction in front of him.
“Um, you the ones who ordered the large, double meat pizza?”
He’d forgotten about the pizza, too.
Ivy slid her arms from around Landon’s neck. “Yup, that’s us.”
Reaching around, she pulled the wallet out of his back pocket, then walked over to the door. Thanks to the scuffle with Buchanan, the top of her robe had come a little undone and was gaping open slightly. The teenage boy’s eyes went wide as he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, but he kept his cool long enough to take the cash and pull the pizza box out of the bag and hand it to her.
He swept the apartment again, his gaze lingering on the demolished dining room table before going to the hole in the wall. Brow furrowing, he looked pointedly at the scratches on Landon’s chest, then at Ivy.
“Um, everything okay?”
She cracked the lid on the pizza box to make sure the kid had gotten the order right. “We were renovating the dining room and decided to stop and have sex.”
The kid’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. He looked around the room again, surveying the damage in a whole new light. No doubt he was wondering how much of it had come from the renovation and how much from the sex.
Realizing Ivy was waiting for him to leave so she could close the door, the kid turned to go. Then he stopped to eye the four deep scratches slashed across Landon’s chest again. Landon waited for him to ask how they got there, but the kid must have a good imagination because he grinned at Landon and said, “Dude!” before giving him a thumbs-up and walking out.
Ivy laughed as she sauntered into the kitchen. “That was bad of me, wasn’t it?”
Taking the pizza box from her hand, Landon set it on the counter. He then pulled her close by the belt of her robe, which made it fall open a bit more. “Yeah it was. But that’s okay. I like when you’re bad.”
Chapter 13
“Have you seen Clayne this morning?”
Kendra looked up from her computer as Ivy perched on the edge of the desk. “Earlier. Why?”
Ivy sipped her coffee, trying to look as casual as she could. “Just wondered if you saw him talk to John. Or Dick.”
Since no one had raked her and Landon over the coals when they’d gotten to work, she didn’t think so. But she’d relax a lot easier if she were sure.
Kendra frowned. “What the hell would he talk to Dick for? He hates Dick.”
“I don’t know. I was just wondering.” She took another sip. “Do you know if Clayne’s around?”
“He bailed in a pissed-off mood. He only came in long enough to tell me he was taking leave.” She pushed her reading glasses up on her head and sat back in her chair. “When I asked him where he was going, he practically bit my head off. I have no idea what’s with him.”
Ivy looked away before Kendra could read anything on her face.
Kendra bolted upright. “Wait a minute. You know something, don’t you? That’s why you want to talk to him. Okay, spill it.”
She should have known she couldn’t hide anything from Kendra.
“Clayne came over yesterday and found Landon at my place.”
“So?” Kendra’s eyes went wide. “No way. You and Landon…?”
Ivy nodded.
Kendra grinned. “It’s about time.”
“Well, Clayne doesn’t share your enthusiasm, and now I’m afraid he’s so pissed off he’ll tell John—or worse, Dick—just to get us split up.”
Kendra shook her head. “Clayne wouldn’t do something like that.”
“You didn’t see how angry he was when he realized what was going on. He and Landon got into this huge fight. They came close to killing each other.”
“You’re not serious.”
Ivy nodded. “I ended up siding with Landon to end it.”
She didn’t mention she would have fought Clayne to the death to protect Landon if she had to. She was still freaked out by that. Having sex with Landon hadn’t gotten him out of her system. It made her want him even more.
“Which must have infuriated Clayne.” Kendra nodded.
Ivy nodded. “Now, I’m worried he’s going to destroy both our careers to get back at us.”
The phone on Kendra’s desk rang. She answered it, had a cryptic conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line, then hung up.
“That was John. He wants you and Landon in the main conference room. The guy you apprehended in New York finally talked.” When Ivy moved to get up, she grabbed her arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll find Clayne and get him to calm down. I’ll make sure I get through to him.”
Ivy hoped so, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath.
Landon was already in the conference room when she walked in. They’d ridden the Metro together that morning but came into work separately, so they wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.
She yawned as she sat down across from him. They’d stayed up most of the night repairing the damage to her apartment. The hole Landon and Clayne had put in the wall was easy to fix. So was replacing the chandelier. However, her beautiful antique dining room table was history. There wasn’t enough glue in the northeast to put that poor thing back together. Landon swore he’d find her one that was as close as possible to the one he’d help demolish. She didn’t have the heart to tell him not to bother. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime find. But then, so was he.
Wh
ich was why she’d felt the need to show her appreciation for all his hard work when they’d finally stumbled into bed at two in the morning. That had kept them up for another hour, but it had been worth every sleepless moment.
Ivy was about to tell him about Clayne taking leave when John walked in. His face looked haggard, like he hadn’t gotten much more sleep than they had.
“The man you apprehended in New York disclosed Stutmeir’s location.” He set down a folder on the table. “As of a few days ago, Stutmeir was holding the medical experts in a private mountain lodge located in the Cascades in Washington State, north of Chelan. Unfortunately, the guy has no idea what Stutmeir’s doing with these doctors and scientists. Apparently, that kind of information is reserved for Stutmeir’s inner ring of soldiers. As it turns out, you picked the least informed of the two men to capture. He wasn’t much more than a driver.”
“Next time we’ll make sure to ask for a résumé first,” Landon said dryly.
Ivy picked up her mug. “Do you believe the guy?”
“Trust me, he wasn’t of a mind to tell any lies at that point.” John’s face was grim. “All he knows is that they were supposed to kidnap Bosch and bring him to the ski lodge.”
Landon took a swallow of coffee. “What do we know about the place?”
“At the moment, not much.” John sighed. “It was built to be a ski resort just after World War II, but apparently that didn’t exactly thrive. So, in the early fifties, it was picked up by a doomsday group sure the USSR was going to launch nuclear missiles at the United States. Since then, it’s gone through several hands and is currently owned by a software company out of Seattle that uses it as a private retreat for its board members. We found some brochures from the last time the place was used as a ski resort, but that was back in the eighties.” He opened the folder and slid two brochures across the table. “They only show enough to tell you it’s a big stone structure with a lot of rooms, built into the side of a mountain ridge. The satellite imagery we have of the area doesn’t show much either. It’s heavily wooded and the mountain peaks keep it shrouded in cloud cover during most of the year.”
