by R. J. Blain
With my pain hampering me, I had no control over the shimmering of my fur, leaving me to hunt prey too slow to evade me even when alerted by my glow. My wolf’s disgust and dismay over the situation annoyed me into unnecessarily tearing at prey I’d otherwise crunch once and swallow whole.
The larger and more satisfying prey fled long before I could catch them, the fresh scent of their fear lingering in the air. Mice and rabbits couldn’t sustain me long, and I knew it, as did my wolf.
I really needed to stop and sleep for a week, but I didn’t dare.
Once I made it to the safety of Hamburg and a cruise liner destined for home, I could sleep, eat my way across the ship, and recover. Until then, my only choice was to run and hope for the best.
Hamburg, Germany teemed with charm, but I was too exhausted to enjoy it. Hidden by the bright early morning light, I skirted civilization, made my way to the lodge, and shifted so I could retrieve my keys and slip inside.
The pain was even worse than when I had transformed in the ocean.
With the fear of discovery driving me, I battled with the keys, my hands shaking so badly it took several tries to get the door open. I staggered inside, using my back to shut the door behind me. Sinking down to the floor, I struggled to catch my breath, which burst in and out of me in wheezing pants.
I had made it, but I had no idea how much time had passed since my haphazard plunge into the ocean. A few days felt right for my level of exhaustion. While tempted to fall asleep on the floor, I gathered my flagging strength and dragged myself into the bathroom to shower. The cold roused me enough to execute the next stage of my plan.
No matter what, I would be on the next cruise out of Europe, even if I had to take a one-month tour to make it happen. While the shipwreck had destroyed most of my things, I’d purchased a cheap laptop to finish my preparations. I booted it up, digging out my old passport from its hiding place between the bed’s mattresses. The passport, along with other important information, had survived thanks to my decision to return to my room before making my escape from the sinking ship.
After carrying the damned thing with me for almost a decade, the fact I needed it now annoyed me almost as needing to give myself a short hair cut to match the old image. Some of my hair had to go anyway; I didn’t know how to remove the extensions allowing me to masquerade as a woman. My clippers would let me shear it down to an inch, although I’d be forced to spike my hair in some hip and horrible fashion to hide that I had cut it myself.
If time allowed before my cruise, I’d go to a barber to undo the damage.
Once the laptop finished booting, I browsed a cruise booking site to explore my options. I groaned, staring at the screen in dismay. It had taken me eight days to reach Hamburg.
I had one choice, the last cruise of the season, which left port in six hours. Spitting curses, I checked the available staterooms. If I wanted to leave Germany by ship, I’d spend a fortune to do it.
The only cabin available was the most expensive suite on board—over ten thousand dollars for the voyage. I groaned, bowed my head, and dug out my credit cards, muttering curses. The suite would require me to dress my best, something I hadn’t anticipated when I purchased clothing for myself after arriving in Hamburg following the loss of my luggage.
I had exactly one suit, and if I wanted to pull off staying in a luxury suite, I needed more. Six hours didn’t leave me with a lot of time.
At least my cabin had a printer. I hooked it up to my laptop so I could print my boarding ticket, which I reserved under the name of Daniel McClain. I lost thirty minutes hacking the extensions out of my hair, resulting in an acceptable style as long as the beholder was a rat seeking a nest.
Packing didn’t take long; everything fit in a single duffle, which I tossed over my shoulder. I dressed in my suit, checked out of the lodge, and prepared for a second blitzkrieg through Hamburg.
Three clothing stores, one mobile shop, and a haircut later, I felt like a new man. The barber had worked wonders, restoring my sense of masculinity while leaving me looking far better than I felt. I wished I hadn’t waxed my face; the growth of a beard would have gone a long way towards adding a few years, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
At least the frantic pace of my shopping kept me awake when I was so tired I stifled yawns every other minute.
Armed with six jackets, an equal number of slacks, and twice as many shirts and ties, I had everything I needed to look the part of a wealthy traveling businessman. My new cell phone had a German number and a ridiculously expensive plan offering long distance and the data I’d need to make it to the United States.
I hoped I wouldn’t need it, but if I did, I’d have it, and no self-respecting businessman traveled without a good phone. The laptop wasn’t quite what I needed, but if anyone asked, I’d claim my regular machine had broken, which was true enough.
No one would be getting anything off my original laptop after its extended stay at the bottom of the ocean.
I was one of the last people in line to board the ship, a white monstrosity someone had dubbed the Snow Princess. In far too many ways for my comfort, its shape reminded me of the Titanic, and I had already reenacted that misadventure once. It was so new the stench of paint, varnish, and new-forged metal stung my nose. Careful to select the correct identification, I handed over my boarding pass, which was checked against my passport.
The man maintained his bored expression, muttered something in a mix of German and English, and waved me through to the next gate to pick up my room key and everything I’d need for my stay on board the ship. I smothered my urge to grin at the pitiful excuse for security. Considering the ship’s first stop was in the Caribbean, the lack of scrutiny didn’t surprise me much.
The real test would happen when we reached port in the United States, where I’d face customs and immigrations as Declan McGrady, a trick I’d use to my full advantage. Satisfied with my plan and my ability to execute it, I trudged across the cruise ship to my stateroom.
The suite was larger than my NYC apartment. I had no idea how the staff had managed to beat me to the room, but my bags were waiting inside, tucked in a corner in the entry, which opened to a spacious sitting room. I lowered my duffle to the floor, the one bag I hadn’t allowed the busboys to claim while I was getting my suite’s key.
I flicked on the light, stifled a groan at the full body ache I had been dealing with the entire day. Somewhere in the room was a jacuzzi, and the first thing I intended to do was soak. Once I’d transformed into a living prune, I would flop into bed until my stomach demanded as much food as it could hold.
Maybe the Snow Princess was new, but unlike most cruise ships, it hadn’t retired the tradition of the buffet, and I meant to take advantage of it. There were proper restaurants on board as well, but I wouldn’t indulge in those until I had satisfied my biting hunger.
The rustle of fabric on fabric was the only warning I got before someone jumped out at me from around the corner of the room leading into the hallway. I caught a glimpse of blue before an arm cracked across my shoulders.
My work involved flexibility and strength, and I partnered gymnastics with Aikido, a defensive martial art, and extreme sports to stay fit. I rolled with the blow, twisted around, and dipped into a back flip, sticking the landing and sliding into a defensive stance. My suit somehow survived the stunt without ripping; if it had been fitted to me properly, I probably would’ve torn it.
I caught a glimpse of tanned skin, blue eyes, and blond hair before my assailant lunged for me again in an unarmed strike at my shoulder. By size alone, I determined he was male, easily several inches taller than me with a substantial amount of extra muscle. Lifting my left arm, I caught hold of his wrist, shifted my weight, and used my hip to toss him.
The move should’ve bought me time to escape, but no sooner had I released him, he twisted, landed on his feet, spun, and knocked my legs out from under me in a sweeping kick. I hit the floor hard, the air
rushing out of my lungs. Bracing my arms, I brought my legs up to build momentum to surge to my feet.
I made it halfway before an elbow to the chest drove me back to the floor. A knee to my side finished knocking the rest of my breath out of me, and a shove rolled me onto my stomach. Blinding pain stabbed through my left wrist and elbow, and in the split second of shock, my assailant had me pinned, one hand on the back of my head, a knee jammed into the small of my back against my spine, and my left arm twisted behind my back.
His booted toe rested on my right hand with just enough pressure to keep me down. I froze, every muscle in my body tense while I debated my options. All it would take for him to do a lot of damage would be jam his knee against my spine harder or twist my wrist. His hand on my head hampered my mobility and further limited my ability to break free.
A passing interest and a brown belt in Aikido was no match for the hold he had on me. The ship doing lazy flip flops and circles around me didn’t help matters any, either. While being a werewolf should have given me an edge, I’d worn myself so thin on the journey from France to Germany I couldn’t muster the strength to even attempt to free myself.
I sighed my surrender. “You could have knocked.”
“Would you have let me in?” From the accent, he was American, although I couldn’t pinpoint where he was from. He wasn’t a New Yorker; the accent was wrong. I couldn’t think of any east coast city with quite the same cadence, nor did he sound southern, which left a west coast state or a northern border state.
“Probably not,” I admitted. “Since you went through so much trouble, who are you and what do you want?”
The pressure on my spine eased, although he kept a firm grip on my head. His fingers shifted, and I hissed as he found one of the knots still marking my skull. “Are you all right, sir?”
Sir? There was only one group of people who would sir me, and they were all associated with the government or military. I hadn’t seen any of them since I had pulled my disappearing trick for a quieter criminal life of high-classed thievery.
I groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”
No matter what I did, I just couldn’t catch a break. Six hours shouldn’t have been enough time for someone to get the passenger list for a cruise liner, run it through the government databases, flag it, and send someone out to confirm my identity. There were hundreds upon hundreds of men named Daniel McClain.
My passport number, a required field for booking my ticket, must have been what triggered the flag, although why would anyone be actively monitoring cruise ships for my passport?
“Sir?”
“Marine, SEAL, or Ranger?” It took every bit of my willpower to swallow my sigh.
“SEAL, sir.”
“You know they care when they send the best.”
“Of course, sir.”
“What the bloody hell did you do, steal a rocket to get here in time to set up your ambush? I only booked six hours ago.”
“I was stationed in London, sir, and was briefed in the air.”
“How about you go station yourself on the couch,” I suggested, fighting the urge to spew a string of modern curses worthy of a former military officer. Closing my eyes was a mistake. The darkness I’d spent days fighting sucked me in and refused to let me go.
Chapter Seven
The presence of something icy on my brow jerked me awake, dumped me in a body that hurt far too much, and startled me into motion, which was aborted by an elbow to the chest.
“Easy, sir.”
It took several long moments for my brain to catch up with my body. A SEAL had kicked my ass across my suite. I had no recollection of how I had gotten off the floor, but I was on the couch with my feet propped up on the far arm. A bag of ice across my forehead proved to be the source of the chill.
The SEAL had stripped me of my jacket and had unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the mottling of bruises I had earned at Scallywag’s castle.
“And here I hoped you were a figment of my imagination. Marvelous.” I contemplated getting up, thought better of it, and reached to touch the back of my head, which throbbed far more than I thought it should.
“It looks like you got on the end of a bad op, sir. I haven’t seen so many bruises since my first week of boot camp.”
“Your CO must have gone soft.”
The SEAL sat back on his heels and watched me through narrowed eyes. “Hardly. The briefing neglected to mention you were still in operations, sir.”
That the government wasn’t involved with the women held hostage in Scallywag’s castle both bothered and annoyed me. Their American accents worried me; the government had a responsibility to protect its citizens. My wolf agreed, but he took it a step further.
He wanted to protect women and children over all, something I agreed with.
My desire to safeguard others had kept me serving the United States government for longer than I cared to think about. I had no doubts the man who had taken me down was a good operative; he possessed the hardened look of someone who hadn’t just seen the fires of war but had danced in the flames and emerged a changed man. “I missed the memo, too. I’m not. Haven’t been for a decade. I didn’t know I was involved with an extraction until I was neck deep and running it from the inside.”
Cocking his head to the side, the SEAL stared at me, probably wondering if I had lost my mind. Unplanned ops with no contingencies often meant a death sentence for the sod stuck with it, and no agent of any sort wanted to run an S mission, not without some hope of survival.
Until I found out what the government wanted, I had to play the SEAL’s game—or find out if I remembered half of what I’d learned decades ago in my piecemeal training. I couldn’t escape by sea; SEALs spent weeks upon weeks mastering surf and pool skills for aquatic combat, including neutralizing and restraining hostiles.
“What are your orders?” I asked, resigning myself to either an interrogation or an escort. If the SEAL had been ordered to neutralize me, I wouldn’t have woken up at all.
“I’ll be escorting you back to the United States, sir, where you’ll be debriefed.”
“Debriefed,” I echoed, unable to hide my astonishment. Was debriefed another term for interrogating the life out of me?
I’d been out of the game for far too long.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your name?”
“Lane Fredrick, Petty Officer Second Class, sir.”
“I don’t suppose if I order you to cut the sir poppycock you’ll actually listen, will you?”
“No, sir.”
“Damned SEALs,” I muttered, and against my better judgment, I lurched upright, wincing at the way the healing bullet wound across my shoulder stretched. The hole in my arm wasn’t much better, and I extended my hand and gave it a good shake to test the injury. A splotch of red marred my white shirt. “Ah, bloody mangled strumpet.”
Fredrick coughed. “Sir?”
“Don’t worry about it. Nothing a bandage and some time won’t fix. I’ve been going non-stop for a week. I need a shower, something to eat, and some sleep, and not necessarily in that order. Are we going to have a problem, Fredrick?”
“No, sir. My orders are to extract you to the United States without incident. Your health is my top priority.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Good luck with that. You’re going to need it.”
I slept through the entire first day and night of the cruise, waking long enough to appease the obnoxious SEAL determined to shove food down my throat whether I liked it or not. I had a vague recollection of soaking in the jacuzzi, and I did it solely to annoy my unwanted bodyguard. My wolf turned coat, more than happy to ignore the military’s return to our life and leave the task of protecting our temporary den to Fredrick.
My head still hurt, but I pretended the pain didn’t exist; no amount of regular painkillers would work even if I took them. Medication rarely worked, which I considered a shitty price to pay for the advantages of being a were
wolf. Some of the hospital-grade drugs packed enough of a punch to help, but I hadn’t tried any in almost a decade.
Lane Fredrick was conked out on the couch, and in the time since flooring me, he had relaxed enough to remove his suit jacket. Shaking my head, I headed into the suite’s kitchenette to coerce the coffee machine into doing its job.
I should’ve stuck with my real name and risked my client forcing Anthony to expose my location. My hell client was likely easier and safer to handle than the US government with a SEAL representative to ensure they kept me right where they wanted me.
Debriefing would be followed by—or include—a desertion charge, although they might consider my training and MO as justification for my disappearance. My last job hadn’t ended well, not for me or anyone on my team.
Considering the government had been the one to teach me the finer points of dropping off their radar, I needed to get into gear or I’d end up in even more trouble.
I still wondered sometimes what had been so important to be worth five lives, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Blanking out the more torrid details of my past served me well, but with a SEAL determined to drag me back, I needed to come to terms with it or make my next great escape.
Unfortunately for me, the SEAL likely knew about my second passport and my real name, which would require me to dig out the antiquated identity I’d used when serving as the government’s lap dog and concoct a cover story to explain why I had no valid identification.
It’d be easier to hit a black market somewhere and start fresh, assuming I could give a SEAL with modern training the slip long enough to pull it off. The challenge tempted me; I had built my reputation as Declan McGrady on pulling off impossible heists and risky stunts.
All it took to make a new man was some creativity and enough money. If my client had paid up, half a million dollars could make it happen. My thoughts circled around in my head, and I considered the viability of such an idea.
