“It’s one of the things I saw when I touched you in the attic yesterday.” He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. “Cold.” Pushing his chair back, he got up and poured the coffee down the sink, then reached into a lower cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon — Black Jack, the same brand Gus Chastaine used to drink. He poured a generous amount in the coffee cup and returned to the table.
“You’re psychic?” Mori looked at the drawing again. Even the unique markings of her wolf’s coat, different to every individual, were accurate. “No wonder you hated me as soon as you touched me.” She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved.
Nik set the cup on the table with a sigh, and Mori noticed for the first time the dark smudges beneath his eyes. The man didn’t look like he’d slept in a month. “I don’t hate you. I hate that Kell got in so deep without knowing the truth.” He finally looked her in the eye. “I also don’t hate you because I saw that his feelings aren’t one-sided. You really care about him. But he’s my first priority. If it comes down to it and we can save you, good. But Kell comes first.”
Mori smiled, earning a look of surprise from Nik. “Good. Because the last thing I want is for him to get hurt because of me.” But he already had, hadn’t he? “Hurt again.”
“Then we understand each other.”
She nodded. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Nik looked down into his bourbon-filled coffee cup and pushed it aside. “Goes both ways.”
Mori closed the sketch pad and slid it back across the table. They sat in silence until they heard a hiss from the direction of the sofa.
“Touching scene, you two. And noisy. I haven’t been able to hear a thing Kell was saying.”
Robin had sat up, still cocooned in her blanket, and her faux outrage leached some of the tension from the room. By the time Kell joined them a few seconds later, Mori thought they were all at least giving off the appearance of being relaxed.
“OK, the colonel’s got a plan. He’s not taking discussion on it, and we’ve pushed him about as far as we can, so don’t even start with me.” Kell rummaged in the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He brought the whole carton to the table, taking the chair between Mori and Nik.
Robin joined them, taking the fourth chair. “That doesn’t sound good. What’s his bright idea?”
Kell took a swig of juice from the carton, earning an eye roll from Robin and a faint smile from Nik. Mori suspected he’d forgone the glass just to get a reaction from them. “Nik, he wants you in New Orleans ASAP, to help Gadget. In case Benedict accelerates his plans, we need to get the trade center offices swept as well as the hotel that’s hosting the visitors. You might also be able to touch a few things and find the guys who killed Adam. We don’t know if they’re human or not.”
Nik’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “And you and Robin will be doing what? I need to be here.”
Kell shook his head. “Colonel wants Robin to take Mori to Cote Blanche today. Again, ASAP. I’ll be trying to negotiate with Benedict.”
Nik and Robin protested loudly, but Mori couldn’t even put her horror into coherent words. This was the most boneheaded plan conceivable. The colonel obviously didn’t understand who and what he was dealing with, or he wouldn’t consider sending Kell in there alone. It’s exactly what Michael wanted. He’d kill Kell without a hint of hesitation — unless it was to torture him first and then kill him.
“Shut it.” Kell raised his voice, sounding a whole lot like a soldier all of a sudden. Mori had never thought to ask what his rank had been in the Army, but she’d lay odds he wasn’t a private.
“Consider these direct orders — from the colonel and from me. Nik, I need you on the next plane out. Gadget can use your particular skills. I don’t need to remind you what happened at Zemurray. We can’t have a repeat in New Orleans, and you might be able to touch the stuff Adam uncovered and find us someone to question.”
Mori waited for Nik to argue, but instead, he closed his eyes and nodded. “Understood.”
Kell turned to Robin. “Mori needs to be off Benedict’s grid, and Cote Blanche is isolated.”
“Wait a damn minute.” Mori had finally had enough. “I don’t know what Cote Blanche is, but I do know this. You can’t approach Michael alone, Kell. You won’t live long enough to negotiate where you’ll sit, much less anything to do with the bombing.”
The blue-green eyes she’d always found so rich and deep had turned hard as brilliant marble. “Cote Blanche is my family’s cabin in Louisiana, out in the middle of nowhere. And the plan’s not up for discussion.”
“I’m not one of your team members, so you can’t—” Mori stopped as a pain shot through her right ankle, then another. Robin was kicking her.
“Kell’s right.” Robin’s voice held its usual chipper tone, but with more than a trace of sarcasm. “We’ll go to the cabin in Louisiana — where there’s no electricity, by the way, and where no one can reach us, including Kell, except by boat. And never mind that there’s a hurricane headed for us. No problem. Let’s get the women out of the way.”
Kell’s eyes had grown narrower and narrower as Robin talked. When she finally stopped, he leaned toward her and spoke through clenched teeth. “Are you finished with your bullshit, or do you have any useful input?”
“Oh, go fuck yourself.” Robin slumped back in her chair and scowled at Kell as he turned to Nik with instructions for Gadget.
“C’mon, Mori. We need to see if we can scrounge up some food to take with us on our holiday in the swamp.” Robin shoved back her chair and walked into the kitchen, so Mori followed.
Kell paused to watch them a moment, suspicion causing those little frown lines to make a reappearance.
“Want us to take Gator with us?” Robin asked, pouncing on a jar of peanut butter and handing it to Mori.
Relief relaxed Kell’s features. “Yeah, thanks.”
As soon as he began talking to Nik again, Mori turned to Robin in outrage. She, of all of them, should understand what Kell would be up against in meeting a shifter one-on-one. Before she could say anything, however, Robin held a finger to her lips. She leaned toward Mori as she handed over a box of raisins.
Her whisper was barely enough for Mori to hear and too soft for the humans to pick up on. “Don’t worry. We’re not following orders. Goes against my upbringing.”
CHAPTER 26
Thank God Robin had finally unruffled her feathers and agreed to take Mori to Cote Blanch without a fight. Actually, she’d come around faster than he’d expected. Maybe she was finally catching on to this business of following orders.
Kell had returned to Nik’s little corner “office,” a nook set apart by bookshelves, and had spent the last frustrating hour trying to line up someone in Jeanerette willing to rent him a couple of boats in a hurricane — one for Robin and Mori, and one for himself when he came in after his meeting with Benedict.
Kell’s usual marina operator had laughed and said Kell obviously had been gone from Louisiana too long if he thought coming to Iberia Parish was a good idea right now. And fucking stupid to boot if he thought anyone would let him take their boat into the wilds of western St. Mary’s Parish before that storm came ashore.
The “fucking stupid” part was probably right. Kell agreed that going alone to confront Benedict would not be on his top ten list of things to do on a Saturday two days before a hurricane was expected to make landfall.
Maybe the weather would work in their favor. He’d pointed out to the colonel that if Benedict knew Kell’s real name, it wouldn’t take much to dig into his background and discover where he’d grown up. A little more digging around in Jeanerette — very little — and he’d know about Cote Blanche. Kell might have been an only child, but there were Kellisons scattered all over Iberia and St. Mary’s parishes.
No doubt Benedict could get that information, the colonel had conceded. But the man wasn’t an idiot, and only an idiot would travel to a wooden cab
in in a South Louisiana swamp when a hurricane was chewing up the landscape. Assuming the cabin didn’t come down on their heads, it should provide a safe haven for at least two or three days. By the time Geneva had blown through, Michael Benedict would be contained.
At least, that was the plan. The way Colonel Rick Thomas saw it, Benedict had backed himself into a corner. He figured the man had a strong self-preservation instinct and a lot to lose — enough to recognize that he needed a way out of this colossal fuckup that wouldn’t land him in jail, expose his kind to the public, destroy his business, or get him killed. Colonel Thomas had pulled some strings in higher places than Kell could even imagine, and had devised the escape hatch Benedict needed.
Now, Kell just had to convince Benedict to take it.
Having exhausted all the boat rental listings for Iberia Parish, Kell went to his last resort — family. Scrolling through his contact list, he found his cousin Trey’s number, took a deep breath, and hit CALL.
Trey Kellison was the son Kell’s parents had wanted. He’d gone off to university in Lafayette, majored in horticulture, come home to Jeanerette, and opened a feed ’n’ seed that now had two satellite stores. He also married his high school girlfriend, fathered three kids to carry on the Kellison name, and went to Mass on Sundays. Trey was three years younger than Kell and always managed to make him feel like a screwed-up perpetual adolescent.
If the shrimp boots fit.
“Jack? What’s wrong?” Trey sounded half-asleep, and Kell winced as he looked at his watch. The cousins didn’t talk often, and for Kell to call at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday, no wonder Trey assumed it was an emergency.
Except, it sort of was an emergency.
Less than five minutes and only a sketchy explanation later, Trey had agreed to take Mori and Robin to the cabin this afternoon, and to take Kell out later tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on the weather. The readiness with which his cousin agreed without asking a lot of details, and the fact that Trey sounded surprised Kell would even think he might not agree, pricked at Kell’s conscience. He really needed to stop selling people short. Let people help him. Maybe he’d get that whole asking-for-help thing down by the time he hit forty.
Next, he called Gulf State Auto Rentals and left directions on where they could pick up the sedan he’d driven to Baytown. Robin and Mori could take Nik’s SUV to Cote Blanche, and Kell would drive Archer’s truck. Once he got his weapons together, they’d be set.
Except for one final call.
He stopped on his way to the living area and watched Mori and Robin laying waste to Nik’s food supply, stuffing everything in plastic bags to take with them. They were whispering furiously to each other, laughing occasionally despite the palpable tension. The only reason they’d be whispering was if they were talking about him or hatching some kind of scheme he wouldn’t like. Maybe both.
“What are you two up to?”
Mori jumped, and even Razorblade Robin looked startled. Whatever they were discussing, it had consumed their full attention.
Robin recovered quickly, her face settling into its usual smirk. “I was telling Mori about your cabin. We were thinking maybe we’d paint the walls while we were stuck there during the storm. Girls love to redecorate, you know.”
“We were debating colors.” Mori took up the lie, and the light in her eyes almost made him smile. Almost. “Do you like pink? I’m thinking a pale-pink, glossy paint would look great with all that wood on the inside. Or maybe an icy green, to tie in with the green of the swamp.”
“Oh, definitely pink,” Robin said, pointing at Kell. “That’s a little-pink-house kind of dude if ever I met one.”
Right. If they’d been talking about interior decoration when he walked in, he’d eat his fucking watch.
“Fine, lie to me. Whatever the hell you’re planning, let me just say this. Don’t do it. And that’s an order.”
Robin saluted. “No problem, Sergeant First Class Kellison, sir.”
Kell shook his head. If he could put the eagle-shifter in lockdown until this was over, he’d do it in a heartbeat, and Mori alongside her. But he had to focus on Benedict and not wonder what these suddenly fast friends were plotting.
“Mori, I need Benedict’s phone numbers.” No surprise that the Tex-La founder had unlisted info, and he didn’t want to use her phone and slap Benedict in the face with the fact that she was with Kell and not him.
She frowned and stared at him, pausing with a can of soup halfway into a bag. “If you use my phone, he can track us here to Nik’s apartment, right?”
He laughed, and it sounded bitter, even to him. “At this point, it doesn’t matter.”
He hadn’t told the colonel this, but if Benedict rejected the offer to bail him out of this mess, Kell would see him dead. One way or another, he was determined that Michael Benedict’s days of tracking Mori were about to come to an end.
Hesitant, Mori retrieved her cell phone from her backpack, still propped against the sofa, and turned it on. Kell looked at the leather pack, thinking about last night’s meeting, about her expression when she’d handed over that contract.
She’d found it when she was a teenager. What would it be like to know your parents had sold you, bargained away your future? Even if their intent had been a noble one in the long run — to ensure the survival of their people — it had to feel like a betrayal.
Mori had been alone a long time, ignoring an unwanted future that was barreling up behind her like an oncoming freight train, until, finally, she couldn’t outrun or ignore it any longer.
It was a truly fucked-up situation. Kell’s own family issues paled beside hers. If anything, he’d been loved too much. He’d felt smothered but never devalued, much less betrayed. Mori thought of herself as weak, but he thought she might be one of the strongest people he’d ever met.
“Let me give you his home number and his private office number.” She scrolled through her contact list and read out the numbers as Kell entered them into his phone. He hoped he’d never need them after today.
He called the home number first, and a woman answered. He took a deep breath and began the first part of the script, as the colonel had given it to him.
“I’m Jack Kellison, and I’m—”
“I know who you are. Hold on.” The woman sounded like a true queen bitch, cold and arrogant. A perfect match for Benedict, in other words. Maybe the real fiancée.
Benedict’s voice was anything but cold. Clipped words, voice just short of a growl. The man was mad as hell. “Where is she?”
Mori’s location was definitely not on the script. “I’ve been authorized to make you an offer to end this situation — a generous one.” And more than the bastard deserved. “Where can we meet?”
Kell could virtually hear Benedict shifting gears, and when he spoke again, his voice conveyed nothing but good humor and reasonableness. Anyone who could change emotional direction that thoroughly and that quickly was either an extremely good actor or an extremely crazy fuck.
Kell suspected the latter.
“I’d love to meet with you, Mr. Kellison.” Benedict paused. “Or should I say Sergeant Kellison?”
So he’d done his homework. No surprise there. “Whatever you prefer, Mr. Benedict. Should I come to your house?”
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Mori vigorously shaking her head, but at least Robin had reached up and clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.
“No, I was about to leave for my office in Galveston. The island will be under mandatory evacuation by mid-afternoon, and I want to retrieve some files in case Geneva proves as deadly as Ike.”
Kell had been deployed when Hurricane Ike hit in 2008, but the storm had torn up everything from Central Louisiana to Corpus Christi, with Galveston almost at ground zero.
“Fine. Galveston it is.” Kell glanced at his watch. Traffic headed toward the coast should be nonexistent. Coming back would be another matter. “Say in an hour?”
“I
look forward to it.”
Yeah, Kell just bet he did. Ending the call, he saw Mori and Robin standing side by side, frowning at him. But this wasn’t up for discussion. “You need help getting the food to the car? You got everything Gator needs?”
Gator had been pacing restlessly between the library and the kitchen, sensing the way dogs do that something was afoot and fearful he’d be left out. Upon hearing his name, he stood and cocked his head at Kell, ears alert. “Sorry, big guy.” Kell scratched his spotted, floppy ears. “You have to keep an eye on things at the cabin.”
At the word cabin, Gator got his tail mojo going. God, Kell loved that goofy dog.
“We’ve got everything.” Robin hefted a box of food and supplies almost as big as she was. “I’m just gonna take this to the car. Meet you down there in five, Mori?”
“I’ll be there.” Mori spoke to Robin, but her gaze was fixed on Kell. The door clicked shut behind Robin, and he was alone with her for the first time since the hotel in Baytown.
“I know I can’t talk you out of this, but please be careful. Don’t turn your back on him. Don’t believe anything he tells you.” She slid her arms around his waist and kissed him, her lips soft and warm. He gave himself over to the moment, trying to convey in the movement of his lips and tongue everything she’d come to mean to him.
Did he love her? Kell didn’t know the answer to that question. It was too soon. Theirs was a foxhole relationship, born amid danger from a common enemy. He knew only that he never wanted to say good-bye to her. Even when he’d just been a fake volunteer at the Co-Op, he hadn’t wanted to say good-bye.
A salty tear hit his tongue, and he stepped back, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “I’ll be at Cote Blanche tonight — tomorrow if the weather’s too crappy for me to get there after dark. You gonna be OK?”
Her eyes were still glassy with tears, but she laughed. “Kell, Robin and I are both shifters. I think we can handle a little wind.”
Omega Force 01- Storm Force Page 20
