Mac and Seth had been placed in competition for the top position in Kossman’s program. She would not lose that without a fight.
Brewster’s rough voice rose to be heard over the increasing downpour. “Kossman’s hell-bent to see this program succeed. I’ve been with him for almost two years and I respect the guy, even though this new job he’s put me on is sometimes weird. You don’t know him like I do, so here’s a friendly tip. You have a small edge right now, but once you and Seth have delivered independent reports on specimens, Kossman will choose who to put in charge based on those reports. The person he designates as the head of this division in his program will have the power to hire ... and fire.”
Kossman hadn’t told her that.
Mac had met Seth Kako as she was leaving yesterday, and he didn’t utter so much as a polite hello to her. His eyes sent the cold message that he intended to win that spot. He saw Mac as a threat, and rightly so. If he won the lead position, he’d fire her on the spot.
She needed this job and if she balked now, he could take it from her.
Would she ever get away from men and their threats?
Brewster stood there, water running off the night-vision headgear with its Terminator-looking monocular. “This is a Code Five to boot. We can’t waste time.”
“What’s a Code Five?” She felt like an idiot, but she hadn’t been clued in to anything that would involve men in tactical gear.
“A civilian has called in on the fifty-thousand-dollar bounty.” At what had to be a confused look on her face, Brewster added, “Didn’t Kossman mention field work?”
“Yes, but ... bounties? I thought ...” What? To be honest, she had heard “field work” and assumed she’d be going to research ancient writings. Besides, where would anyone come up with any being that fit Kossman’s guidelines?
Could she actually do this job?
She had no choice and hadn’t considered that Kossman would go to such lengths. She respected the man as a brilliant researcher, but she’d expected to test samples and write reports on evidence of strange creatures found in other countries.
Not someone here. Surely Brewster was not talking about someone ... human.
Brewster had been professional and patient with her, but his rapid-fire words indicated he was about to move on. “Kossman wants you on-site for consultation, in case we have any questions should there be a dispute later if this results in a capture.”
Capture?
Capture what? She hated to admit Brandon was right about anything, but he’d nailed the reality. This would trash her reputation in the research community.
If it got out.
It couldn’t.
“Ms. Mackenzie?” Brewster said, and she knew it was his last attempt to sway her before he left her standing there.
She’d been upfront with Kossman about wanting to be a part of the new lab he was building for genomic medicine.
He agreed to consider her request if she proved valuable in his pursuit of uncovering supernatural abilities tied to blood.
This was an all or nothing deal with Kossman. She knew that when she originally took the scholarship, and yesterday when she signed on. And with Brandon breathing down her neck, she didn’t have options. All or nothing. Against her better judgment, she was in. She had to be.
But, at the moment, she was most concerned about some unsuspecting person who was being set up or someone trying to scam Kossman.
“Just one more question, Brewster.”
“That’s more than I have time for.”
“What exactly did someone call in about?
“Something with glowing green eyes.”
Blood rushed from her face, leaving her lightheaded. Not possible. Glowing green eyes. Again. “What else did–”
“I’m out of time, Ms. Mackenzie. You going or not?”
Oh, yes, she was going. She hurried toward the van, because she had to see this for herself and wanted to make sure nobody innocent was going to get hurt during this fiasco.
Green eyes.
Please, God, don’t let there be any media on scene.
Kossman took his RUB–Research of Unusual Beings–operation very seriously. He’d fired someone over a media leak about hiring Mac, something that was to have been confidential.
He went to extreme measures to keep the media out of his business, and wanted no one privy to the details of his operation except a small circle, which now included her.
Okay, honesty time. Mac had always been curious about the unknown. That inquisitiveness, as much as her lack of options, had propelled her to accept the scholarship Jacob Kossman had offered where she could actually be taken seriously for her interest in the mystical. But she’d never expected this.
She settled on the back seat as Brewster shouted directions to the driver over the sound of the rain pounding the van roof. The driver looked just as broad shouldered and deadly as Brewster in matching tactical gear. The driver whipped the van back into traffic without a word or a glance at Mac.
She laid her collapsed umbrella in the floorboard and sniffed at the smell of worn leather and wet clothes.
Leaning forward, she put her hand on the back of Brewster’s seat. “What are the chances of us getting lucky and this going down without attracting the press?”
Brewster grabbed the “holy shit” bar above the passenger seat as the van barreled around a hard corner. “Relatively good. Kossman’s requirement for paying the bounty is that no media be present at the captures.”
Mac breathed a little easier. “What type of ... being did the person say had these green eyes?” Maybe it was some four-legged animal.
Brewster looked over his shoulder. The grim cut of his mouth and brutal gaze promised anything deadly would have an equal match. “All I know is we’re after something that looks human but he has glowing eyes.”
He? No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.
She stared openmouthed as Brewster turned back around to take a call. She shivered, as if ants with tiny claws ran along her arms and neck.
This could not be happening.
Brandon had to be behind the bogus bounty report. There would be media present, because Brandon wasn’t after the bounty money.
That bastard had called her for one reason. So that once everything went sideways and the media nightmare started, he could tell his father that he’d warned her. Senator Mackenzie would lose his shit over this and Brandon would call her, offering to make it all go away if she returned to the Mackenzie prison.
But she couldn’t stop the van from barreling toward disaster. Not with a human possibly at risk. It couldn’t be him, but it was someone else at risk of being harmed.
If Mac bailed out now before she knew for sure what waited at the end of this trip, her deal with Kossman would vanish.
She’d be lucky to find work anywhere. Brandon had been thorough in limiting her choices years ago. She had no doubt he’d already squashed her chances of a job of consequence—without accepting his offer—even at an environmental lab, where she’d be shoved in a corner testing dirt samples and never seen or heard from again.
Maybe she could change her name and disappear.
If so, her next job would require her to ask, “Do you want fries with that?”
If this bounty call turned out to be a trap Brandon had set, complete with media ready to expose this “capture,” Kossman would blame her for the leak.
Glowing green eyes.
Not possible.
Chapter 3
“The point was to stay out of sight once we reached Atlanta.” Tristan wiped water off his face, shook out the baseball cap, and shoved it on his head again. He trudged through water puddles, pissed at everything, but mostly at the chump striding next to him.
Bernie murmured, “I know.”
Tristan ground his teeth. “Let me get this straight. The person now living in your girlfriend’s old apartment was nice enough to let us use the phone, but this woman you want to marry
can’t drive over and pick us up?”
Bernie raised his shoulders then hunched them in again. “Claire said she had some drops put in her eyes today and can’t drive in the rain.”
Bullshit. Tristan kept that thought to himself.
He had a bad feeling about this woman Bernie wanted to stick a diamond ring on. Bernie had dated her for all of two weeks. Did he really think that was enough time to see someone’s true colors?
Who am I to criticize? I met a woman and fell for her in ten days.
How’d that work out?
Not very well. Chump.
Bernie stumbled and had to do an awkward dance to keep upright. He rubbed at his eyes. “I can’t see through these stupid contacts at night.”
“Then put on the damn sunglasses, because I don’t care,” Tristan said, indicating the pair hooked on the front of Bernie’s shirt. “No one can know that either of us is here. The minute a human sees glowing green eyes, they’ll go apeshit and call out the National Guard, which I’m pretty sure is full of Belador warriors.”
With the contacts in, no humans would recognize them ... unless they used kinetics or other powers to stop a preternatural predator. Beladors were another story.
“I know, I know,” Bernie grumbled, stuck on two words like a corrupted audio. Rain drizzled down the side of his neck. “What are you going to do once we get to Claire’s?”
First, I’m waiting around to make sure she doesn’t have some witch waiting for you. Tristan answered, “I have a place to hole up while I wait.”
He’d have to walk there, though. A few months ago, he’d downed a witch highball infused with ancient Kujoo warrior blood, and teleporting had been one of the side benefits. But using that gift drained his energy, especially when traveling from one realm to another like he’d just done with Bernie.
Otherwise his ass wouldn’t be stuck walking in the damn rain. They could run fast as hell due to their Belador blood, but Tristan was saving every ounce of energy to take Petrina home and make one more round trip for Bernie before Macha’s meeting.
Evalle couldn’t be happy about leaving Storm and her pet gargoyle at home, but she was too damned honorable for her own good sometimes. She would never ask Macha to put off a meeting that was probably all bullshit.
Tristan had tried to tell Evalle not to trust Macha or VIPER. Evalle kept trying to convince Tristan that the Alterant-gryphons would one day be a free race.
But that hadn’t happened.
She’d also warned him not to screw up while he was on Treoir, since Macha was the only goddess in their corner.
That was yet another reason Tristan had to return with Bernie and Petrina before Evalle arrived on Treoir. She had no idea that Tristan had tested his teleporting ability and found out he could travel between realms.
But he couldn’t risk trying to travel with Bernie and Petrina at the same time without enough power or he might kill all of them.
Bernie rubbed at his eyes. “These things interfere with my kinetics, too.”
“What makes you say that?”
Bernie lifted both hands. “Watch.” For about thirty seconds, the rain shed away from them as though they were under a small dome, but then it started leaking through.
That’s not good. Tristan rubbed his forehead, which now throbbed from lack of sleep.
Bernie looked over. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard the word watch.”
“After that, I spoke to you telepathically.”
“Shit.” The damn contacts were screwing up kinetics and communication. They irritated Tristan’s eyes, too, but he hadn’t needed to talk to anyone telepathically while wearing them. He’d had the contacts made to insure each person he delivered to this world would be as safe as possible while here. His troll buddy, Otto, had come through with the majik enhanced contacts, but they lasted only forty-eight hours.
Bernie kept speeding up. Then he’d pause when he realized what he was doing and slow back down to human pace. “I can’t wait to see Claire.”
Tristan finally said what was eating at him. “It still bothers me about the timing of the witch capturing you the day after you showed Claire your eyes.”
Bernie turned a furious gaze on Tristan. “Stop trying to make me doubt her.”
Tristan had a sick feeling this would not play out the way Bernie expected. He’d heard Claire’s voice when Bernie called her. She hadn’t sounded like a woman relieved to hear from her lost love.
Hell, Tristan had far more experience with women than Bernie, but he’d allowed a woman to lead him right into a trap.
Mac had smiled at him.
He’d been stupid to be hooked by a smile, but Tristan had been on the receiving end of those so rarely that one look at Mac’s sweet lips had made his brain shut down.
He’d wanted her, and nothing could stop him when she invited him into her bedroom. He’d known better.
Humans were a risk.
They panicked at anything unexpected.
Ten days after meeting accidentally in Piedmont Park and returning every evening to find her waiting on him, he’d wanted her but he’d had no plan to pursue her.
Not until a guy hiding a blade fell into step behind her as she headed home one night.
Tristan had made a habit of following her discretely to know she made it home safely, then going his own way, but that night changed everything. He caught up with Mac and her shadow just as the guy poked his knife tip into Mac’s back.
She’d made a noise of fear, and Tristan had to remind himself to not kill the human. Not unless he harmed Mac. Tristan wrapped his arm around the neck of her attacker, disarmed him, and sent him flying into a tree.
That had rung the bastard’s bell.
While Tristan convinced Mac to not call the police department, which was full of Beladors working covertly, the thug vanished into the dark.
Mac looked up at Tristan as if he’d saved her from a demon, then she took his hand and led him into her apartment. He’d told her he couldn’t take his glasses off and she hadn’t cared.
Yeah, the small head had made that decision.
He’d had rare opportunities to be with a woman, and never stayed, but for some reason he’d slept like the dead. When he opened his eyes at daylight, she had his sunglasses in her hand. With one look, she’d scrambled off the bed and backed away.
He explained that he had a rare case of tapetum lucidum syndrome, which made his eyes glow like cat or deer eyes at night.
Mac had acted as if she accepted his story, but he’d been a fool.
A team of Beladors had found him the next day.
Still, just because the woman Tristan had trusted turned out to be a liar didn’t make Bernie’s girlfriend one. Bernie deserved a chance to have someone special.
Tristan would never make that mistake again.
Rain slowed to a steady shower as Tristan led Bernie through the dark residential streets of Avondale Estates, to a small house with a wide porch.
“This is it!” Bernie bounced and pointed.
Tristan cautioned, “Remember what I told you. If anything happens–”
“I know. I know. Find your sister in Decatur and go to the meeting point with her tomorrow to find out what you want to do. Don’t let anyone follow me to Petrina’s place, and don’t shift from my human form. I got it, Mom.”
“How did you survive so long around Ixxter with that smart mouth of yours?”
Bernie grinned. “I’m a charmer.”
“You’re not charming me right now.”
“You’re not my type.”
“Agreed.” Tristan stopped in the front yard as Bernie walked up concrete steps to a small stone-and-brick house. His fist drummed the wooden door.
A porch light glared on.
Shouldn’t that have been on already?
Tristan would normally cover his eyes, but the dark brown contacts dulled the glare.
If he had telepathy right now, he could talk to Bernie w
ithout anyone hearing. Everything came with a price.
Bernie knocked on the door again with anxious beats. “I’m here, Claire. It’s me. Open up.”
A muffled female voice said, “Hold on, Bernie.”
Tristan tensed.
He hated to be right, but why wasn’t she rushing out to meet Bernie? Had she changed her mind about their relationship? Why tell Bernie where she lived if she didn’t want to see him again?
Shadows from sprawling oak trees blocked much of the streetlight, and the damn contacts were limiting what he could see. His night vision was excellent, though it was nothing like Evalle’s ability to see in the dark. Her eyes were ultra-sensitive to light and the sun would cook her body to a crisp.
Yeah. He’d keep his vision. Tristan cut his gaze to the side, tracking a figure that slid from a white van parked a block away. Shadows the size of human bodies moved through the dark and pulled up behind a thick oak tree.
Tristan didn’t detect any power signature.
A human ambush?
Bernie’s voice crashed from happy to desperate. “Claire?”
Shit. Tristan whispered, “Bernie! Get down here.”
But Bernie was as focused on Claire as a male dog catching the scent of a bitch in heat.
Appropriate analogy.
Tristan moved slowly toward the porch to keep from giving away that he’d recognized the threat moving in. Who had Claire called in and why? How would she know preternaturals to contact?
Had she been the one to hand Bernie to the witch after all?
There was no way Tristan could teleport even one of them out of here right now, but maybe he–
“Don’t move.” That order boomed from a man whose upper body would qualify him to arm wrestle the Hulk in his spare time. He wasn’t APD or SWAT, but he was dressed for combat. The weapon he pointed could be the bastard child of an H&K rifle and a stormtrooper’s laser blaster.
Commando guy said, “We know what you are. Come with us quietly and we won’t hurt you.”
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 16
