by Susan Harris
Derek glanced up at her then, and she was pretty certain the heat in his eyes matched her own. Crouching down, he gave her a gorgeous, lopsided smile. And then he began the change.
His bones made sickening pops as they broke and reformed into limbs. Fur ripped across his skin, his jaw lengthened, and his teeth became deadly weapons. It was a smoother transition this time, and Ever was unable to stop watching as his hands became paws and fingertips morphed into claws. She tried to ignore the grunts of pain—then then snarls of pain—as man became wolf.
Everyone stayed quiet as Derek completed the change and the tracking device slipped free of his hind leg. Ever inched forward, and with her foot, she slid the ankle monitor toward her.
The wolf glanced at her with haunting amber eyes. Mate.
Yes, mate.
Seemingly pleased by her response, the wolf growled as Ricky attempted to turn back.
“Mad bastard is gonna change again,” Ricky grunted.
Ever gasped in horror. “Derek Doyle, don’t you dare change back so soon. You need time to rest—and he’s not going to listen to me, is he?”
Nobody answered her, but the wolf’s whimper of pain drew her eyes back to Derek. Paws and claws began slowly changing back to hands and nails. Fur receded and skin replaced it. Bones crunched again as they lengthened to form Derek’s human body, and the slight scent of copper tainted the air. It took a lifetime for him to change back to human, and Ever held her breath for every single second of it.
Covered in sweat and breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, Derek hit the ground knees first, and Ever darted over to him.
“I’m okay,” he groaned, but his words did little to reassure her.
“Stupid, stubborn wolf,” she chastised.
“Help me dress so I’m not flashing everyone, please.”
She did so very slowly, aware that his skin might be sore to the touch after the change. Ever handed him the tee after he slipped on his pants. When he was semi-decent, the others turned, with Sarge shaking his head.
“I should order you not to go, but I suspect you’d just go anyway.”
“Yeah, I would.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Sarge asked.
“Right now, I’m just going to sit here and chill. Gimme a minute. Then, me and Ricky will hunt down some griffins.”
“This is a really bad idea,” Ricky said, grinning with the biggest smile on his face. “When do we leave?”
“This is a bad idea.”
“You said that already.”
“Well it seemed worth repeating.”
Derek groaned. He had just laid out his plan to those who remained in the room, and now they were looking at him as if he had lost his mind. Sure, he had changed from man to wolf, then from wolf to man, in less than five minutes. And now he was suggesting they grab one of the griffins and question her—outside of the police station.
“You can’t just go around kidnapping high-ranking internal affairs agents because you feel like it, Derek. That kind of action could cost you your badge.”
“And ending up in a cell for murder could do that as well,” he retorted, his tone clipped. But he was on edge, eager to get this bullshit out of the way so he could get Ever alone and ask her what the hell was bothering her. Earlier, she had been afraid. But when Donnie and Caitlyn had challenged each other, Ever hadn’t been the slighted bit afraid—she’d been excited.
Scratching the stubble on his face, Derek stated, “If it comes to it, and it’s the only way we can get answers, then I’m doing it. By myself. If things go wrong, then ye can claim ignorance.”
“Derek, please don’t do anything reckless.”
Ever’s voice pleaded with him, but at least she wasn’t trying to stop him. He came to stand in front of her and brushed his lips over hers.
“When I get back, you and I need to have a little talk, okay?”
She bobbed her head meekly.
Stepping away from her when his entire body wanted to cling to her was hard to do, but he motioned for Ricky to head out.
“Derek.”
Sarge’s voice halted his progression. Without turning, he glanced over his shoulder. The lines on his mentor’s face were more pronounced, dark circles under his eyes gave him a tired look, and the way his shoulders slumped slightly irked him; Sarge looked as if he had been defeated.
“Be careful. If it is Morris… make sure you kill him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Derek snuck out of the room, pausing when any human cops walked by. He stalked down the hallways and managed to slip down the stairs into the P.I.T. underground quarters. Ricky was perched on the edge of the counter and tossed some clothes in his direction. Catching them with ease, he began to change as Ricky swung his legs back and forth.
“Dude, I’ve seen more of your bare behind in the last couple of weeks than I have the entire time we’ve been partnered together.”
“Then maybe you should stop looking at me when I’m naked.”
“Nah, you’re such a prude, and I know it makes you uncomfortable.”
Derek paused with one arm through the sleeve of the black, long-sleeved T-shirt Ricky had thrown at him and glared at his partner, who continued to laugh at him.
“I’m not a prude,” he stated.
“Sure.”
“Can’t you just go make yourself useful and bring your car around?”
Ricky jumped down from the counter. “You know you’re gonna have to go in the boot.”
“Excuse me?” Derek yanked his head through the top.
“You can’t sit in the passenger seat. Any supe worth their shit will see through the tints, and then our plan is rumbled.” Ricky grinned wider, so much so that Derek was sure it hurt the man.
Folding his arms across his chest, Derek sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Totally. Now arm up, and I’ll reverse the car to the back door.”
Derek wrapped a tactical holster around his thigh, slipping a standard-issue handgun in. He’d much prefer to take his shotgun, but the mission required stealth, not brute force. Rolling up the leg of his black combat pants, Derek added a holster with a silver blade. He usually didn’t arm up much apart from his shotgun—his claws and strength were his best defense against anybody or anything.
Bounding up the stairs, Derek paused to scent and listen in case anyone were roaming about outside. When the path was clear, he slipped out the door and into the night air. Ricky had the boot of his Ford Focus RS open, a punch-worthy glint in his eyes.
“In ya go, puppy.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me, really. Now get in.”
Derek brushed past him and hopped into the boot. Ricky closed it down, and Derek adjusted his eyes to the dark. He listened as Ricky started the engine, the vehicle slowly moving out of the station amid the same shouts and jeers as the night before.
Once they ambled through the crowds and Derek sensed they were out of view, he banged on the side of the car with his foot. The car came to a halt, and then Ricky popped the boot for him.
Quick as lightning, Derek jumped out of the boot and slid into the passenger seat. As soon as the door closed, Ricky took off. “Sarge sent a text. Both of the griffins are at their hotel by the airport. The scout he sent says they haven’t moved since going upstairs after their dinner.”
Derek’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Changing in quick succession and the lack of food all day suddenly caught up with him. What he wouldn’t have given for a burger or steak right then.
Reaching behind his seat with one hand on the wheel, Ricky tossed him a brown paper bag. Opening it up, Derek pulled out some sandwiches and chocolate bars.
“I knew you’d be hungry. Got them this morning. Been sitting in the car all day, so they might be a little meh.”
“Cheers, mate.”
Ricky drove up the hill and turned off at the exit for the airport. This ti
me of evening, the roads were deathly quiet.
The sky had darkened to an imperfect shade of navy, and clouds covered the slant of the moon above, but Derek still felt it—gods did he feel it—from the marrow in his bones to the hairs on his skin. He greedily chomped away on the sandwiches while Ricky took the road with ease. The lights of the airport beckoned them as Ricky steered the car.
Turning into the hotel car park, Ricky turned off the headlights and pulled in to park in a spot surrounded by other cars but with a clear line of sight to the main lobby.
“According to Sarge, the griffins have two separate rooms. Third floor up, five windows in is where Knight is. Room next to that, Gober.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, one that stemmed from them having done many a stakeout together. Derek scanned the car park, watching, waiting. Ricky did the same.
It was far too quiet for Derek’s liking. And Derek needed a distraction.
“Want to tell me what happened between you and Samhain this morning?”
The warlock lifted his shoulders. “Same ole, same ole. ‘Richard,’” he said, mimicking Samhain’s voice, “‘you have a sacred duty as the eldest son to follow the traditions of your family and take a seat on the counsel. You are also required to inform said counsel if your magic changes or becomes stronger.’ I politely told her to piss off.”
Derek very much doubted that Ricky was polite in telling Samhain to piss off.
“And has it changed? Your magic?”
Ricky tightened his grip on the steering wheel so much that his knuckles whitened. “Not on purpose. It’s not like I sit at home practicing or trying to be more powerful. But when Lanie was taken, I dug deep and did things I shouldn’t have been able to do.”
“Like find Melanie in your mind?” Derek ventured.
“Yeah,” Ricky said with a sigh, loosening his grasp on the wheel. “Since then, it’s kinda been building and building. I tried ignoring it, but every time I close my eyes, I fucking see Lanie hanging from that noose. I woke up a few nights ago with a start, and the fucking furniture was floating around my room.”
“Maybe you should speak to someone in the coven. If your magic’s unstable, maybe they might have some answers.”
Shaking his head, Ricky asked, “And if they tell me to stop being a cop? ‘Cause that’s what they’re trying to do right now. All I ever wanted to be was a cop. You might as well take that sidearm and put a bullet in my brain, because the day I stop being a cop is the day I die.”
Once again, Derek was reminded of why Ricky was his partner.
“Besides, who else would put up with your grumpy ass all day, every day?”
And then again, Derek wondered if he were being punished.
“You need to talk, you come to me. You need a beer, you come to me. Even if you just need to bitch and moan, you come to me, right?”
Ricky smiled and punched Derek’s arm lightly. “Does this mean I’m your ride-or-die chick? I could cry.”
Derek chuckled and cast his eyes upwards. Someone give him patience.
“D, look.” Ricky slumped down in his seat, pointing to the lobby of the hotel. Agent Gober stood in the dim lighting, her birdlike eyes darting from side to side. Derek studied her as she repeatedly glanced at her phone. Suddenly, the griffin headed toward them before abruptly changing direction and heading around to the back of the hotel.
Derek’s hand pressed the door handle a moment later. “Stay here and watch the door. I’m gonna follow Beckie, see where she goes.”
“You heard what Sarge said, Derek. We stick together.”
Derek continued to get out of the car. Leaning back in, he grimaced. “What if the person who framed me is with her now? I could catch him and this all ends tonight. C’mon, Ricky.”
“Don’t bat those pretty-boy lashes at me, dude! C’mon, if you get hurt, it’s my balls that are on the line.”
Derek said nothing, just held his friend’s stare until Ricky looked away first.
“Dude, seriously. If you looked up uncool in the dictionary, there would be a teeny, tiny picture of what’s happening right this minute.” Ricky sighed.
“Are you with me or not?” Derek asked, both man and wolf eager to begin the hunt.
Ricky looked at him with a shocked expression. “You really have to ask?”
With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Derek said, “Seemed like it.”
“I’m surrounded by idiots!” Ricky exclaimed. “Go, but if you end up dead, my ass will be in Mexico.”
Derek closed the door quietly after him and tore across the car park, his footsteps silent, barely touching the ground as he moved. Once he reached the brick outline of the hotel, he banked up against the wall, peering around the edge before creeping along the wall, hidden well amongst the shadows.
Murmured voices carried with the wind.
“I did as you asked! I held up my end. You need to hold up your end.”
Silence. Then the griffin spoke again.
“That’s not my fault!” she shrieked. “How was I to know that the new vamp was a truth-seeker? Please, I’ve done enough… give me my babies back.”
Derek felt a twinge in his chest. Her babies? Derek hadn’t even known she’d had kids. They’d had one or two dates about fifty years ago, on Ricky’s insistence, but both had agreed that there was no spark at all.
Pressed against the cold brick of the wall, Derek heard her roar and toss her phone to the ground. Then he heard her scramble for it, probably remembering it was her only means of contact with the person holding her children.
And then he pounced.
Springing free of the shadows, he was on Beckie before she even knew he was there, his hand wrapping around her throat while his other arm held her hands in a vice-like grip, trying to keep her talons from clawing out something important.
“Derek, please. You don’t understand,” she pleaded.
“Who has your kids?” he demanded, tightening his grasp on her throat. Derek wasn’t going to hurt her, but the griffin didn’t know that.
“I don’t know who he is, I swear!” she squawked. “He always stays in the shadows or to the side where my vision isn’t great. I didn’t want to do any of it—he kidnapped my eggs. They’ll die if they are born without me.”
Derek let the wolf come out in his eyes. “And tell me, why that is my problem? You set me up for murder. I could rip you to shreds right here, right now, and leave no trace I was even here. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”
He tightened his grip, his fingers biting into her flesh, and tears began to seep from her eyes.
“I only wanted to see my babies safe. He came into my home, knowing you would be arrested. He killed my husband and stole my eggs. I watched as he tore into my husband. I’ve had to pretend that he’s away on business, not rotting in my basement.
“Please, Derek. All I want is my kids back. Give me another option than what I’m doing now.”
Derek let go of her throat and stepped back. Beckie gingerly rubbed her neck.
“You should’ve come to me. I could’ve helped, Beckie. There was no need for all of this.”
The griffin frantically shook her head. “He said he had spies everywhere—inside the station, inside your team, everywhere. He knew where I was and what I was doing. I had no other choice.”
“Do you know where he is? This person who took your kids?”
Another frantic shake of her head. “He shows me real-time videos of them. Sends them to my phone.”
“That could come in handy. Gimmie your phone.”
She hesitated, and he let the growl he’d been holding back rumble from his chest to his throat, until he bared his teeth at her.
She handed him the goddamn phone.
Punching in his favorite tech girl’s number, he held the phone to his ear as he heard a tentative hello.
“Melanie, it’s Derek. I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“The number
I’m calling from; it’s been sent real-time videos a number of times. Can you back-trace where the videos were sent from? The same person setting me up is blackmailing Agent Gober. He’s holding her babies hostage.”
Melanie let go a slew of colorful language that would have made Ricky proud. “It’ll take a little time. I’ll be as fast as I can. Stay safe.”
Melanie hung up, and Derek handed the phone back.
“What now?” Gober queried, an anxious undertone in her voice.
“You know I have to take you in. We’ll do our very best to get your kids back, but you need to come in and tell the truth. I can’t protect you in this, but coming clean might stop you from ending up in jail.”
“Jail?” she squawked.
“You not only were aware of a murder, but you facilitated the shooting of a fellow agent. You’re an accessory, Beckie. You need to explain the circumstances. I’ll vouch for you, I swear.”
Derek indicated for Beckie to move ahead of him, which she did. Then the direction of the wind changed suddenly, and Derek’s nose flared, a strange scent washing over him only moments before the attack came.
Three werewolves attacked him from behind, and Agent Gober immediately took off.
Good, Derek thought, hopefully Ricky will see her running and raise an alarm.
Otherwise, this might not end well for him. Sucking in a breath, Derek recognized two of the scents—the two who had attacked him and drugged him.
Letting a roar out, he swung his clenched fist and connected with bone. Derek was moving even before the smell of blood punched through the air. He lifted his leg and kicked out, connecting with someone’s stomach as another wolf rugby-tackled him. They hit the ground, and Derek shoved him off, rolling with the force of the tackle, and ended up crouched, facing the men.
The three of them staggered, regrouping next to each other and forming a wall. One of the men slipped out a tranq gun as Derek’s hand caressed his own firearm. He silently popped the gun free of the holster, calculating the time it would take him to fire off a shot before one of them hit him with a dart.
