by J. D. Tyler
“The wounds are red and angry, Ryon. We need to get you out of here.”
“And we will, as soon as the job is done.”
Daria uttered a ripe curse, and he laughed. “Come on, my stubborn mate. Let’s go.”
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, except for Daria’s occasional poking and prodding. They talked about trivial subjects, mostly growing up, families, and school. He learned that Daria had been valedictorian of her senior class, while he’d been the guy voted most likely to wind up in the Marines, like his father, though he’d taken a different path with the Navy. He’d had a bit of wandering spirit, even in his youth.
Close to dusk, they made camp as close to August’s estate as he dared. He found a secluded spot in the foliage for them to await their next move.
Daria checked his wounds and temperature again, clearly unhappy. “Nearly one hundred and two. Your wolf isn’t fighting this off.”
“We’ll be inside August’s complex tonight, right after dark, get what we came for, transfer those files to the compound, and then we’re out. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be on our way home. I’m good.”
“Getting away will be twice as dangerous as before, and you’re getting sick. Why don’t you wait outside and save your strength while I go in and—”
His patience snapped. “Not a fucking chance. Don’t push this.”
“Fine, be an ass.” Daria fell quiet.
Ryon studied Daria from under his lashes. She sat on the ground with her knees drawn up to her chin, arms around her legs. He thought she planned to ignore him until it was time for the job, but he was wrong.
“I love you,” she said quietly.
“I love you, too, baby.” He met her gaze, throat tight. “Listen. If I don’t make it, get the hell out and get to the team. Don’t look back.”
“Forget that. I won’t leave you.” She paused. “What if neither of us makes it?”
“Then try to hold my hand so we’re not alone.” He reached out to her and she clasped her fingers in his, their previous argument forgotten in light of the danger to come.
“I promise.”
By nightfall, she hadn’t let go of him. Saying a quick prayer, he nodded at her. Cautiously, they made their way to the very edge of the property.
The estate stood eerily silent. A few lights were on inside the grounds, the glow reminding Ryon of multiple eyes on a huge poisonous spider, crouched and waiting in the darkness.
Time to slay the beast.
Thirteen
Only a couple of armed guards were visible, hovering near the corners of the main house. Looks, however, were deceptive.
“Where is everyone?” Daria whispered, palming the SIG he’d given to her. “He always had several more guards posted whenever I visited.”
“Many of them are still out looking for us. The rest are around. If they spot us, it’ll be like kicking a fire ant mound.”
“I vote we hit while they’re full and sleepy from dinner and booze. August doesn’t allow them to drink on duty, but that hasn’t ever stopped them from sneaking a few rounds after he goes to bed.”
“Good to know. Stick close to me.”
Crouching low, Ryon led them from their post at the front gate around to the back. Hugging the wall, he located the approximate place he’d entered the estate a few days before. Using the thick vines as handholds, he hauled himself up and over the wall, then dropped to the ground on the other side.
Blazing fire shot through his injured leg, and he gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound. With an effort, he fought down a wave of nausea and dizziness. Daria had been right. He was fast becoming a serious liability. If they were forced to make a run for it, he wasn’t sure he’d make it to the pickup point. For Daria’s sake he had to try, and if she had to go on without him, at least the mission would be complete.
Daria dropped beside him with a soft thud, and he caught her around the waist to steady her. Once the guard on the other side of the swimming pool turned to amble in the other direction, he readied the M16 and headed for the pool house. At the moment, it was locked tight, windows dark. They crept across the porch to the door, which sported nothing more than a simple lock. Ryon picked it easily with his pocketknife and let them inside, shutting the door behind them.
He walked past the wet bar and into the tiny storeroom. Once inside, he shut them in pitch blackness before turning on his penlight. Daria’s anxious whisper sounded beside him.
“What are you doing? There’s nothing in here, unless you’re planning to get back at him by drinking all of his guests’ wine.”
Ryon flicked the penlight at the modest wine rack that covered the left wall of the room. “That’s what you’re supposed to think. Nick told me where to look, remember? Watch this.”
Striding to the rack, he braced the rifle on one hip, and slid his hand along the right edge until his fingers found the latch and pressed. The rack gave a pop and he swung it out to reveal a hidden door.
Daria was suitably impressed. “Well, I’ll be damned. The wine rack serves as a fake wall. Does this lead where I think?”
“Even better. The stairs behind this door descend straight underground to a lighted corridor, which travels toward the estate for about forty yards. At that point, it branches off. The left corridor continues to the main house, the right one to his computer room.”
She arched a brow. “That’s damned good intel your boss has.”
“I’m sure being able to see the future helped a bit.”
“True,” she agreed.
“I wonder why he built access through the pool house. That’s pretty risky.”
“Nick said August likes to have a hidden route out of the main house in case of emergency, like a raid or a house call from a dangerous enemy. Besides, nobody knows it exists except his current right-hand man, August, and now us.”
“Is the corridor monitored by camera?”
“Motion sensors. No cameras, unless he’s added them recently. Getting inside isn’t the difficult part, if you know the route. Once we’re in, though, if they discover us, the danger of being trapped down there is pretty high.”
“I don’t like this.”
He linked their fingers. “Me, either. Personally, I think the whole deal stinks. Do you want to quit? Whatever you decide, it’s now or never.”
“I want to get the rest of those files and watch him hang, but you’re—”
“Then it’s settled.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, cutting off further protests about his health. Releasing her, he turned and went to work on the door. In short order, they were standing at the top of a steep, narrow staircase. He left the exit behind them open a slight crack for their return trip.
“Follow me. When we get to the bottom, stay to the right,” he instructed. “Don’t stray toward the center of the hall. The motion sensor beam runs straight down the middle. August likes it positioned that way so he can make a quick escape without worrying about setting off his own alarms and alerting the enemy as to which direction he’s taken. Anyone else wouldn’t know not to walk down the center and they’d get busted.”
“And if he’s changed the sensors?”
“We’re screwed. But if we make it to the computer room, I think I’ve got us covered.”
With that mysterious pearl of wisdom, he started down, weapon ready. Once at the bottom, they followed the corridor to the intersection, then veered right. So far so good. No shouts or pounding footsteps rushing to intercept them.
A massive metal sliding door dominated the end of the corridor. A control panel mounted on the wall to the right resembled the cockpit of a small plane with its array of buttons.
“Terrific,” Daria muttered. “How do we get in?”
Ryon smiled grimly. “With the override code Nick’s security contact was able to provide, since August uses one of the same systems they serve. What’s more, the code deactivates the sensors until the doors close again. Brilliant, huh?”
; She peered over his shoulder and frowned. “I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you.”
“Why?”
“Because the room is empty.”
Ryon spun and stared in disbelief. He walked inside, fists clenched. Solid concrete walls and nothing else.
“Son of a bitch.”
“No telling how long ago he cleaned it out. Apparently Nick’s all-seeing eye isn’t foolproof. Any other brilliant ideas?” She waited, glancing around nervously.
“I’m open to suggestions,” he bit off. He felt like a fool. Of course August would’ve moved his files the instant he learned that his estate had been breached. Ryon’s mistake had cost him and Daria time they couldn’t afford to lose.
“I think the files in his office are the real ones,” Daria speculated. “Dad said he’s been really preoccupied with some sort of construction off the far wing. He told Dad he was adding on to the estate, but now I think it’s possible that he’s building a better headquarters for his transactions.”
“Makes sense, but why wouldn’t he just leave the files down here until the new facility is ready? His data is more secure here than upstairs.”
“He’s a spider waiting to spring his trap. The million-dollar question is, do we take the bait?”
Every instinct he possessed was urging him harder than ever to get Daria the hell out, forget the whole thing. But he longed for August to roast for what he’d done to Ben, and to other humans and shifters. If nothing else, he could give Daria that much.
Ryon waved a hand. “We’ve come this far. Let’s do it.”
“Wait,” she said softly. Stepping close, she laid her palm on his chest. “I’m sorry I pushed you into coming back here, especially now. You’re sick and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“It’s all right, baby. If I didn’t want to try again, you couldn’t have made me.” He gave her a quick kiss. “We’re going to accomplish what we came to do and get out of here, trust me.”
Daria looked deeply into his eyes, as if trying to discern his sincerity. After a minute, she stepped back, satisfied. “All right. So, did Nick say what part of the house the corridor leads to?”
“The kitchen pantry.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. What better place to hide the other entrance than behind a wall of food? We can restock our packs, too.”
“Clever,” she admitted.
“We’ve got to hurry.”
Every cell in his body alert, Ryon padded toward the house, Daria pressed to his back like a second skin. The narrow confines of the bright corridor made him more uneasy than before. He half expected the passage to be booby trapped, then dismissed the notion. A man like August would prefer to mete out pain himself and witness the results.
They reached the stairs and ascended slowly. Ryon found the latch, and the mechanism emitted an audible pop, the wall creaking when released from position. He tensed. After a minute, he used the tip of his rifle to inch the gap wider. Light from behind them flooded the large walk-in pantry. Quickly, he stepped inside and motioned for Daria to close the panel behind them. If anyone in the kitchen had seen the strange light below the door, he and Daria would soon find out.
Nothing. Breathing a sigh, Ryon used the tiny penlight to scout for food to replace what they’d consumed. Being a man of finer tastes, August didn’t allow the cook to buy a lot of junk. However, Ryon did locate several packages of crackers, jerky, and a few granola bars. With a grimace, he stowed them in Daria’s pack, thinking he’d give his small fortune for a juicy steak and a baked potato. An open case of bottled water rested on the floor and Daria put several bottles in his pack. Ryon figured he’d rather collapse from carrying the extra weight than to starve or dehydrate. What a choice.
This done, he flicked off the penlight and opened the pantry door an inch. All was quiet. A clock on the wall revealed the hour to be one thirty in the morning. His tired, aching body felt every minute of it.
They made their way from the kitchen into the open, airy living room, placing their steps carefully, keeping to the perimeter. Moonlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the pool on one end of the room, the front lawn on the other. A burly guard stood next to the patio door with his back to the glass, facing the pool, shifting restlessly.
August’s office wasn’t far, just across the living room and a few feet down the hallway. Ryon barely made the safety of the shadows in the hall and turned to beckon for Daria to hurry, when the guard suddenly pressed his face against the window. The big man jerked upright in surprise, shouldering his rifle.
Shit, he’d spotted her!
Daria saw him, too, and froze, the SIG trained on the man’s broad chest as he strode inside, stalking her. His cocky smile flashed in a sliver of light. Totally ignoring her gun, he lowered his own weapon and pressed his body against hers.
“Well, what do we have here? August’s sweet little do-gooding niece can’t shoot, so what are you going to do? Shall we work out a trade for my silence?”
Ryon’s wolf snarled in rage, and he barely kept the sound from escaping. The claws on his hand lengthened, and he waited.
Daria didn’t answer, but began to back away, bringing the guard closer to Ryon’s hiding place. Good girl. Just a bit more. Ryon clenched his teeth as the dirtbag crowded her and cupped a breast, confident in his ability to overpower her. A sloppy fool, smelling faintly of whiskey. And groping his mate. It would be his last mistake.
“Very nice,” the man laughed, low and nasty. “You’re going to come with me, open your pretty legs, and learn how to treat a real man. Then I might be persuaded to forget you were here—”
Ryon had heard enough. Moving silently, he came at the goon from behind, reached around him, and delivered a vicious, lethal swipe to his neck. Blood sprayed over the pristine floor, and he could muster no sympathy for the slimy bastard.
Working fast, he lowered the huge man to the floor, laid the rifle on his chest, took him by the ankles, and dragged him away. The living room offered no place to stash the body, so he secreted it inside the pantry. Next, he grabbed a couple of kitchen towels and quickly wiped as much of the blood as possible from the floor. A hurried inspection would pass in the darkness, but the guard would be missed eventually. After relieving the man of his shirt, pants, handgun and bullets, he rejoined Daria.
She hadn’t moved, but stood like a small, pale ghost with wide, fathomless eyes that he couldn’t see in the dark. Only the firm line of her unsmiling mouth gave voice to her thoughts. He touched her cheek.
“I had no choice, baby. He would’ve killed us both.”
“I know.”
But her tone was dull. She was coming to terms with the fact that the man she loved was a natural-born killer. He wasn’t some romantic commando from a Stallone movie, but the real thing, and he had other abilities tacked on for good measure. Knowing that and witnessing it were different matters. Heart heavy, he dropped his hand and turned to head for the office.
Daria swept in ahead of Ryon, and he left the door cracked a bit before joining her at the computer. She settled into August’s black leather chair, retrieving the thumb drive case from her pack. She wiggled the mouse to wake up the sleeping machine, then stuck in the thumb drive. The password box immediately appeared on the screen.
Fingers flying, Daria tried the last several codes. Access denied. “Damn. Have any more secret access codes up your sleeve?”
“Try Project Malik, no spaces.”
She clicked out the word, pressed enter. They were in! “Another safety net, mate? My, you and Nick were busy boys,” she commented without looking up.
Intent on her purpose, she leaned forward. His affirmation fueled her desire to get that final piece of evidence, the ace in the hole. Ryon didn’t interfere. Her computer skills matched or surpassed his, and he knew she would’ve eventually broken into the main screen, even without Nick’s help.
Conscious of the
minutes slipping away, he peered into the hallway. Still clear, but not for long. Any minute one of the guards would stroll to the pool to check in with the missing man. He and Daria might have a few more minutes before they realized the man wasn’t in the restroom, or in the kitchen pilfering a late-night snack.
Sweat beaded on Ryon’s forehead and neck, and not just from nerves. The room was unbearably hot, his leg killing him. Not a good sign. Forcing the discomfort from his mind, he walked back to Daria.
Hunched over, she punched in another series of numbers. Waited. Then, like a miracle, a spreadsheet filled the screen. All the information they needed, at their fingertips. Smiling, Daria raised a fist in victory.
“It’s all here. The drugs they used on the shifters, names of their victims—or test subjects as the assholes called them—names of doctors and others in their employ. All sorts of damning evidence.”
“God, this is so much more extensive than what we recovered from Bowman’s last testing site.” Something caught Ryon’s eye. “Look there. It says Medicinal Countermeasures for Morphing Agents, and it looks like a recipe. Does that mean what I think?”
“It’s an antidote,” she breathed. Typing fast, she opened a window and, following Ryon’s direction, began to send the all-important files to the Pack compound’s server.
He contacted his commander. Nick, we’ve got it! All the files are coming your way, and it looks like there’s a reversal drug for the shit they did to Ben and the others.
After a couple of seconds, the man answered in relief. Great job. As soon as it’s sent, get the hell out. Time is short. I’ll get our lab people working on the antidote and try to have it in hand when we fly out to pick you both up.
All right, and thanks. For everything.
Just go, and hurry.
A box flashed with the words Transfer Complete. Ryon kissed the top of her head. “I’m impressed, angel. Now let’s get going. I never want to see this place again.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Daria removed the thumb drive and secured it in the case again, hands trembling. Ryon could imagine what a monumental occasion this was for her, because it meant as much to him. Now Ben at least had a chance. She zipped the pack, logged off the computer, and turned to him.
