Their Improbable Mating [Paranormal Protection Unit 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Honor James

  “Yes, she won the State Championships, would have gone on to Nationals, but she had to get curious,” Mrs. Monster Woman said with a smile that reminded her of a shark’s smile, all teeth.

  “Well then, maybe she will be just what he’s looking for and we will get our investment in her back,” Mr. Monster Man said to his wife with the slightest of hisses to the “s” sounds.

  “I agree. If not”—the woman shrugged and smiled—“then I do believe that we will turn her over to the boys. She’s at the top of our age limit and she did, after all, cause injury to three of them. I think that it would be just punishment, darling.”

  She thought about that and smiled. She couldn’t help it. Even through all the drugs she had still been able to tear one bastard’s ear off with her teeth and, she hoped, turned the other into a soprano for life and hopefully put the third one’s fucking eye out. She had fought tooth and nail when she realized that help wasn’t coming for her right away.

  It had been a simple op. Get taken, be brought to the ringleader’s base of operations, and then the fucking cavalry would ride in and she would be free. That had been two months earlier. The first week she had been there she had been pumped so full of ketamine that she could barely move. The second week she had been drugged with some other cocktail of their own making, and the third week she had been left alone. She had tried her comms devices then, the listening device that had been implanted in her ear and the vocal link inserted at the base of her neck, but no one was there.

  She had still held out hope though. Hope because not only did her commanding officer and unit have her biometric tag, but her father and brothers all did, too. She knew they would move hell to find her, but why hadn’t they made it there yet? What was taking so long? Wouldn’t they worry if she hadn’t checked in before now? And almost as soon as she had that thought she realized they wouldn’t if her CO had “checked in” for her, giving them the line she was on assignment. It had happened before. She would be gone for weeks at a time but never this long.

  When she was pushed back down onto the grass mat that doubled as her bed, she curled in on herself and again started to rock. She watched as the Monster couple walked out of the room, touched her comms unit at her throat again, and whispered, “Extraction, please.” She never begged. Never said please. She was as tough as nails, mostly because she had to be. She was in a career that was male dominated, where females were a liability, and from a family of all Alpha over-the-fucking-top Men, but right now she didn’t care. Right now she was a girl and damn it all she needed to be saved because she sure as shit couldn’t do it herself.

  The door opened again. “The preparers,” as she called them, entered the room with towels and a robe. Granted, it was one of those just-to-the-hips Geisha types, but she didn’t care. At this moment anything would be better than being naked!

  “Come on, kiddo, time to get a bath and wash your hair. Let’s hope for your sake that the new client likes you,” smaller man number one told her. “Otherwise the Triplets get you and well”—he shuddered—“that wouldn’t be pretty, not since you blinded one, made another van Gogh, and the other is still trying to get his balls to drop from where you kicked him,” she was told with a tsking sound. “Maybe we should dose her again.”

  “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea,” goon number two told number one. “Get the dose ready.” He looked at her and grinned. “It will make her more relaxed and hopefully the client won’t realize what a hellcat she is until he’s already broken her in. We should also make sure that the boss knows what she’s been given so that he can ensure that the buyer understands that he needs to keep the dose up.” Which was an added profit for them since the person who bought the girls would have to continue to buy the drugs to keep the girls high as kites. Petting her hair, he sighed. “I’m going to miss this one. Her hair at least. If only they would let me cut it.” Her hair, when clean, was a bright strawberry blonde, long and straight with natural copper and gold highlights in it.

  Inside of her mind she was dying a bit more. Another dose? God, she didn’t know if she could survive much more. Tears fell unbidden from her eyes. She felt the pain of the needle and then again the heavy fog that surrounded her took over. She barely realized when they cleaned her, hardly recognized she was walking as they moved her from the hole she had been kept in and out onto a platform. She felt the silken robe being removed from her body. Her hair fell like a curtain around her face. One spotlight lit her from above and another from below to ensure she was completely illuminated.

  Chapter Three

  Getting out of the SUV once his “muscle” signaled the all clear, Allister buttoned his expensive suit jacket, pulled the cuffs of his shirt, and looked around as if it was all an inconvenience for such an important man as himself. Rainier played his part well, too, acting a little shifty and nervous, not like the powerful cat they all knew him to be. If Allister didn’t know better he’d swear the changer was channeling a rat.

  Waving off Mac, who leaned in to murmur some nonsense to him, he shot him a look. “We have enough business here to attend to. The rest can wait until things are more private.” Getting a deferential nod and warning look, he almost smirked. He did internally though and fought not to match his twin’s snicker.

  Moving toward the small group waiting to greet them, he paused. “Monsieur l’Aurette, I presume?” he said to the one that appeared to be in charge of it all.

  “Welcome, Mr. Fairbanks.” The man smiled wide, too much teeth, using Allister’s alias surname.

  Shaking hands with the man made Allister want to immediately shower and disinfect every part of his body. Maybe burn off the top few layers of skin to ensure the slime didn’t permeate.

  “Please come inside out of this terrible heat,” l’Aurette told him with a wide sweep of his arm, his guards and a woman that smiled too much moving out of their path. “We have air conditioning inside so it will be much more comfortable and civilized for us to conduct our business.”

  Following him in, he saw Sully tap the face of his watch and nodded, knowing that l’Aurette saw the movement. “I’m sorry, Monsieur, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch today. Unfortunately things are not playing out as they should.” He shot a glare at Rainier, who flinched and looked like he was about ready to burst into a sweat any second. The guy seriously was in line for an Academy Award.

  “Understandable, Mr. Fairbanks. Sometimes good help is just so hard to find,” l’Aurette gushed and moved forward at a quick pace. “Well, we will, this one time, toss aside convention and dismiss the small talk. Perhaps on your next visit…” He left it hanging.

  “If everything is as promised, I think we could arrange a much more leisurely visit for some small talk and more relaxed browsing,” Allister allowed with a faint shrug.

  “Excellent, then let’s proceed immediately to the showroom. I have just the thing, I believe, but because I know just what a connoisseur you are, I’ve also set out a few extra pieces in case I was way off with my guess.” Stepping through a door into a room, Allister removed his sunglasses and looked around at the six small daises that were arranged, all under bright spotlights, and froze, his nose picking up the scent of drugs and of his mate. Holy mother of the Gods.

  “Come closer. Feel free to inspect the merchandise however you wish. Each has been properly prepared according to our protocols so you needn’t worry about any possible contaminants,” l’Aurette told him, ushering him in closer to the women standing looking drugged out of their minds and naked to everyone there.

  Stepping in closer, Allister zeroed in right off on the female that was predestined to be his. He passed a quick look over the others but he moved right to where she was positioned. Except for the reek of ketamine and something else permeating her skin, she was perfect in every regard, and she was his. Moving around her little platform, he paused here and there, tipping his head and considering before continuing around. “This one,” he said to the man before turning to
walk back toward him and stopping. “My man here”—he waved a hand to Rainier—“will of course tend to all the minor details. I do have to request, though, that the merchandise be ready to go when I do. I won’t have time to return for a pick-up at a later date, unfortunately, for at least several months.”

  L’Aurette looked at Allister and smiled. “That is the piece which I simply knew would fit your expectations.” He nodded to the unseen shadows. “Prepare the merchandise to move.” He waited until the light on her dais was off and turned back to Allister. “I should let you know, Mr. Fairbanks, that she has quite the, well, habit,” he said smoothly. “I’m more than happy to supply you with what she needs in order to function of course. However, it will be an additional charge.”

  Snapping to his wife, l’Aurette pulled her close. “She willingly sold herself into this trade, you see. She found her debts so high from the dosage she appreciates to be able to function that she gave over the last thing she had left, her body. So you get the merchandise but it will need a small add-on in order for it to continue to function as it is now.” He smiled. “It was pure, however. The girl is the daughter of a priest, a runner actually, prize-winning runner, which I knew you would be looking for as well,” he added cunningly. “So, for an additional five thousand per month we will be able to ensure that your running pet is kept as she loves to be kept.”

  Leaning in as Rainier, acting his part of advisor and money man, whispered to him, Allister nodded slightly and murmured some things back to him. Lifting his head, Allister looked at the man. “We’ll take one month’s supply but will not require anything further,” he said. “If it is required, I’m sure one of my labs will be able to recreate the drug, assuming, of course, you’d provide the recipe for a small fee.” Money in the man’s pocket without depleting his supply. “Now, where should we have the payment for the merchandise wired plus the one month’s supply of obedience?”

  L’Aurette smiled that wide and sharklike smile. Offering a white card with only a series of numbers on it to Rainier, he said, “My routing and account numbers. If you will wire the full amount to me immediately, your merchandise will be ready to leave. Once I have the confirmation myself, of course, that the funds are there. I hope you do understand.”

  “Of course, sound business practices only, after all,” Allister commented, taking the card. Rainier snapped open his briefcase and put it on Sully’s waiting arms. Holding the card up in a bored manner, he watched as Rainier typed in all the information on his mini iPad and sent off the money to the account. Skittles had tagged the funds so they would be instantly traced and from there he’d be able to find all of l’Aurette’s monies and various other nefarious things. A few minutes later, Rainier nodded and, almost at the same instant, l’Aurette’s phone beeped with a waiting message.

  Lifting his phone, l’Aurette read the display and smiled, typing in a sequence to send the monies into his multiple accounts. He nodded and then bowed. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fairbanks. I hope that we will be able to deal well together another time?” He left the question open and then added, “And your merchandise will be by the front door waiting when you are ready to leave.”

  “Good day to you as well, Monsieur l’Aurette,” Allister said and pulled out his sunglasses. Rainier snapped the case shut and they all moved toward the front doors as a unit. Once they were out and in the SUV, the clearing would begin. With what they’d just gotten for evidence, Interpol and the FBI would be able to feast on his carcass for centuries to come. Walking into the main “lobby,” he spotted his bond-mate standing by the door, held up by a goon with an empty expression on her face. She was dressed though, thank the Gods. Nodding to Mac, who took possession of her, they left and Allister pulled out his cell. “My meeting is concluded. Prep the jet. We are on our way back to the airport now. And tell Kat that we will need to schedule another meeting with l’Aurette at my earliest opening.” He waited and then grunted. The codes had been passed along and everyone was on standby as soon as they cleared the area.

  Getting into the SUV, Allister kept up the pretense, as everyone else did, as he instructed his “driver” to return them to the airport and they pulled out. Only when they were beyond the designated kill area did he turn to the woman. “We need to get her an IV and get her rehydrated,” he said, getting out of the jacket and tie quickly. He felt strangled and smothered in such outfits. Taking the small penlight from Rainier, he checked her pupils. “She is three fucking sheets to the wind, doped out of her gourd,” he muttered, rolling up her sleeve for Sully to get the IV in place. “Rain, get that sample of the drug sent off to the labs. We need to know if there’s anything we can do to help counteract it.” Touching her cheek, he looked at her. “We’re going to help you, I promise.” He didn’t know if she could understand him or even hear him but he really hoped she knew he meant no harm.

  Jackie jerked at the touch of the needle to her vein and wanted to stop it from happening but she couldn’t. God, she could barely breathe right now. Her mind was working sluggishly, but it was working, but her body wasn’t. She felt the bumps of the road and then out of nowhere heard her CO in her ear. “God dammit, Jackie!” he screamed and then again, “Jackie, what the fuck?”

  * * * *

  Somewhere in Washington

  “She’s back online, boss,” came the relieved voice of one of the operatives in a seriously off-the-books white ops mission. “Goddamn, I don’t know how she’s alive though.” The vitals that suddenly began to pour across the wall-sized screen had every man in the office pausing.

  Grabbing the microphone that was connected to the cochlear implant on his operative, he shouted, “Jackie! Goddammit, Jackie, talk to me! Jackie, what the fuck!” He couldn’t help it. They were seriously fucked because they had lost contact with their operative for two months. For two fucking goddamn months, he had been lying to the fucking head of his division. He’d lied about Jackie for the last week and he had been lying to her father, the fucking US defense secretary, for even longer. “Do you have a location on her?” he demanded to the men in the room.

  “We do, boss. She’s on the move right now. She’s three fucking states away from where we last pinged her. How the hell did they override what the goddamn hell we had in her?”

  “Don’t know, at this moment don’t fucking care. Prep the teams. Send the SEALs for her. Bring our girl home. Now,” the commander said and then spoke to Jackie again, “Come on, Jacqueline. Talk to me, honey.” He knew she hated to be called Jacqueline. It was “too feminine,” she had told him before. “We are coming for you, sweetheart. Know that. We are going to bring you home.”

  * * * *

  Back in the SUV

  Fresh tears washed down her face. They were coming for her. They hadn’t left her for dead. If she could speak she would, but she couldn’t. Her tongue was so thick in her mouth that words simply wouldn’t form, so instead she forced a sound from her throat, hoping that her CO would understand it, know she wasn’t alone as well.

  “All right, honey, just hold on.” The voice in her ear spoke in a quiet whisper of sound. “Hang on, Jackie. The Marines are coming for you, babe, and we will take care of you.”

  “Okay seriously,” Mac said. “Is no one else hearing that annoying high-pitched whine?” he asked, looking around at everyone else. “Come on, I can’t be the only one here.”

  “We’re a little busy, Mac,” Rainier muttered and shot a look to Allister, “but I am hearing something, too. Sounds like bitching if I didn’t know better.”

  Shrugging, Allister wet a cloth and gently wiped her face with it. Dribbling a little water into her mouth, he watched to ensure she was swallowing and wouldn’t choke. “That’s it, darling, just a little at a time. We’ll get you cleaned up and safe in a hospital until all this crap is pushed out of your system.” He was ignoring his brother, who kept shooting him looks and was pestering him mentally about his slightly odd behavior. He didn’t care what
it looked like. It was his mate, damn it.

  In the darkness the helicopter moved silently, swiftly, the men on board all getting the same mission. Save the girl, no matter the costs. Save the girl. It wasn’t until the girl’s, well, woman’s, really, name was told and image shown that they realized just who it was that they were going in to save. She was one of theirs. She was an operative that went far deeper than the CIA or Interpol, but besides that she was the secretary of defense’s daughter. Fucking hell, every man there knew at least one of her brothers, her father, or had had their asses pulled out of shit by the same men. Wonderful.

  Dropping low into the skies, the Apache AH-64D dropped from the highest part of the skies and down into the path of the oncoming vehicle, the men repelling down the ropes and the light suddenly flooding the SUV. Weapons drawn and black riot gear covering them from head to toe, the six-man squad raced for the vehicle when it stopped. From the helicopter came a calm voice. “This is the United States Marine Corps. You are ordered to stop your vehicle.”

  Jackie heard him again, in her ear. “They are there, Jackie. Just stay low and calm.”

  “Men are going to approach the vehicle. Comply with their orders,” came the voice from the helicopter again.

  Aidan peered up and up. “Are they actually serious?” he asked no one in particular.

  “It would appear so,” Mac said, shaking his head. “Why are humans so dumb?” he asked, again to no one in particular.

  “They do mean well, I’m sure,” Aidan said, pulling off his tie and ditching the jacket, same as the other three men not including Allister, who had already done so. “But really, had they not had their heads up their asses we wouldn’t have had to save the pretty little thing’s butt.”