“I know. Sorry.” Liam’s edginess about Tiger had him looking for something to attack, but lashing out at his own father wasn’t the answer. He reined in his temper, or tried to.
Dylan’s stoic look made Liam feel even more ashamed. His father had accepted the changeover in leadership without a fight. Dylan had known it was time on that fateful day, even if it took away a large part of what he was. Liam hoped he was half as calm when it was his turn to step down.
“They want to meet,” Liam said. “All of them.”
“That was Eric?” Dylan asked.
Eric Warden led the Shiftertown in Las Vegas. His mate, Iona, had first found Tiger. Eric had helped Tiger escape, and then Liam had offered to let Tiger live in Austin, under his supervision.
Liam had questioned that decision every day since he’d made it. Not because he didn’t think Tiger deserved a fair shot at life, but because he hadn’t learned enough about Tiger to satisfy himself or the informal council of Shiftertown leaders that he was safe.
During his leadership, Dylan had begun the council, which was simply a gathering of the Shiftertown leaders off the radar to discuss common problems and help each other find solutions. Shifters being the way they were, these sessions often degenerated into volatile arguments, but leaders had come to know they could call each other when problems might affect more than one Shiftertown.
Eric had phoned this afternoon to say the Shiftertown leaders wanted to meet about Tiger. They’d heard about him getting shot up by the human Ethan and rampaging in the hospital room. Liam had relayed that Tiger had been shot again today, this time deliberately by an unknown assassin.
Or maybe Carly had been the target. Who the hell knew? Ellison had been out cold at the time, so he couldn’t report on what had happened.
Maria, Ellison’s mate, had glared at Liam in pure fury at the accident scene, as though he ought to have prevented Ellison from getting shot. The shot had gone into Ellison’s leg, missing anything vital. If the assassin had planned it that way, he was a hell of a marksman.
Eric hadn’t been happy at the news of the second shooting, and finished by saying that the other leaders wanted a talk as soon as possible. They’d picked Dallas as the meeting place, because it had no Shiftertown but was close enough to Austin that Liam could get back quickly if needed.
“So the shites are wanting me to leave Tiger in this state and trek up to Dallas so we can sit around a table and talk about him? I don’t have any idea what’s going on with him. Tiger’s insisting Carly is his mate—what’s going to happen when she says no, and he won’t take that for an answer?”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” Dylan, ever practical, said. “You can’t miss the meeting, son. They’ll send trackers down here to drag you there if necessary. You can’t blame them for worrying about Tiger.”
“I’m worried about Tiger. You think I’m not? How in the hell did he survive that, and then start to cure himself? What the fuck did those humans pump into him?”
“It’s getting on for time to find out.”
Liam shook his head. “Eric blew the lab to smithereens. We’ll never find anything in it now.”
“But people will remember.” Dylan touched his forehead. “It will be inside their heads. We find out who worked on the Tiger project, and we ask them.”
“Revealing his whereabouts and putting him in more danger.”
“We’ll just have to ask in a way they can’t refuse.”
Liam wasn’t sure what his father had in mind. Dylan had a ruthless streak that Liam had never found in himself—maybe Liam’s mum, Niamh, a mischievous lady but one with a heart of gold, had bred it out of him. But then, Dylan had had to hold the family together through good times and times of peril, times of near starvation and grief, and then bring them to America to take the Collar and live in a Shiftertown. The decisions Dylan had made would put ruthlessness into anyone.
At least Liam’s dad had found happiness again with Glory. Glory was a strong woman who didn’t mind sharing her opinions, but Dylan needed someone who wouldn’t take any shit from him. A lesser woman would be crushed by him, and Dylan knew that. They were happy together, which made Liam happy. His dad had gone through too much.
“Go to the meeting, son,” Dylan said. “Sean and I can hold the fort.”
“But can you hold Tiger?”
“Can you?” Dylan met Liam’s gaze with his, not looking away. Dylan might not be Shiftertown leader or leader of the Morrissey clan anymore, but that didn’t mean he’d weakened.
Liam scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know, Dad. He does what I ask him, but I know it’s not because he’s submissive to me. He obeys because he chooses. The day he chooses not to, I won’t be able to stop him.”
“Then we’d better find out everything we can. Find out how to stop him, if that’s even possible.”
Liam punched his fists into the counter. He wished Kim were home, but his wife had a job that was important to her, and he didn’t want to pull her back home every time he needed a hug. He’d save up the need for when they were alone tonight, when he’d open her businesslike blouse button by button, slide off her skirt, indulge himself in the scent of her . . .
“I hope we don’t have to stop him permanently,” Liam made himself say. “I like Tiger, and he’s good with the cubs.”
“He is, aye,” Dylan said. “But he’s something we don’t understand. And if it happens one day that he’s not good with the cubs . . .”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” Liam said, echoing his father’s words. He bent his head and studied the patterns on the counter, the old wooden surface stained with generations of coffee mugs and his daughter’s juice from this morning. “Shite, but I hate going to Dallas. I always get lost on those freeways.”
* * *
Walker Danielson woke up again flat on his back, his wrists taped together in front of him. He’d swum into and out of wakefulness since the Shifter had taken him down to the yard in front of his neat bungalow. Walker had woken again in the living room of one of the bungalows, surrounded by men in Collars who looked as though they wouldn’t mind tearing Walker apart and leaving bits of him around as a warning to others.
The desk jockeys in the Shifter Bureau thought Shifters were pushovers, contained and controlled. They congratulated themselves about it.
But Shifters were dangerous, and that Bengal tiger Shifter was even more dangerous than most. Walker’s commander knew it too. When Walker had made his report about the hospital to the Bureau, he’d been told to contact Dr. Brennan and suck up to the human woman Tiger seemed to like, and see if they could make her find out more about Tiger for them.
Carly Randal. She was pretty, friendly, polite—a well-brought-up Texas girl. She hadn’t bought Brennan’s bullshit for one minute. She’d recognized the danger in Walker, and knew her Shifter friends couldn’t let Walker go.
So now Walker woke up on the floor of yet another Shifter house, after the one called Dylan had shot tranquilizer into him, looking in no way worried about it. Dylan’s gaze had told Walker that if the decision had been up to him, he would have given Walker a lethal dose.
Walker assessed his situation through half-closed eyes while he lay as motionlessly as possible, so that anyone set to watch him wouldn’t realize he was awake.
They’d taken the duct tape from his mouth. That didn’t mean kindness—it meant they didn’t worry about who would hear him if he called out. He must be pretty deep into Shiftertown.
This living room was similar to the one in the Morrissey house. The ceiling was beamed, the windows wide casements, one open to let in the air, as hot as it was. This house was bigger than the other, the living room twice the size of the Morrisseys’. The back half of the room bore a long table with many chairs. A polished wooden staircase led upward, and a door near the table presumably led to a kitchen.
A lot of Shifters must live here, judging from the length of the table an
d the haphazard way the chairs had been pushed in. It looked like every chair was used.
The room appeared to be empty, as far as Walker could tell. They’d left him alone. Because Shifters were the best predators on earth, that meant they weren’t afraid of him escaping. Not even with the open window.
Walker wet his lips, opening and closing his mouth a few times. He’d love some water.
But thirst was only a distraction. Walker wasn’t dying. He moved his wrists, dislodging the sticky part of the tape from his skin, and set about making his way out of the bonds.
Walker closed his eyes as he worked, taking time to rest. Getting out would not be easy, and he’d need all the energy he could find.
Duct tape was easier to manipulate than plastic zip ties or metal handcuffs, unless he had something with which to pick a handcuff’s lock. Tape was a matter of loosening it in order to slide out at least one hand, and from there he’d be fine.
Thank the saints he’d had a mentor who’d insisted on putting Walker through exercises like these and more. You might think me unfeeling and my methods harsh, the man had said. But if you’re ever in any of these situations behind enemy lines, you won’t panic. You’ll know exactly what to do. He’d turned Walker into a talented escape artist.
The tape loosened and Walker wriggled one hand free. That was enough to let him unwind the other hand. He reached for the tape on his legs.
And found himself right back down on his back, a foot planted in the center of his chest. A bare, shapely foot.
Walker looked up a long, equally bare and equally shapely leg to a woman who wore denim shorts over a fine ass and a T-shirt that read “Keep Austin Weird.” She had dark brown hair that glinted with lighter highlights, the hair falling a little past her shoulders in thick waves. Her face was incredible, her smile wide, her eyes brown and inviting.
She had to be more than six feet tall, and the foot on his chest spoke of strength.
“Not so fast, sunshine,” she said, her smile widening. “You stay here with me.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Walker swallowed on his dry throat. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Rebecca. A bear Shifter, if you’re wondering. And you’re Walker.” She tilted her head to consider him. “I like that name.”
“So did my mom.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.” Rebecca leaned forward, her large breasts behind the tight shirt softening and coming within reach. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Walker. You’ll be staying here, in my living room, until Liam figures out what we should do with you. Want some water? When I took the tape off your mouth, your lips were dry. You have to be thirsty.”
Walker cleared his throat. “Water would be nice.”
Rebecca lifted her head, but the pressure on Walker’s chest didn’t ease. He wouldn’t be able to dislodge her foot in a hurry.
“Olaf,” Rebecca called. “Olaf, honey, bring out the water for our guest.”
The kitchen door opened, and out walked a small boy with white hair and night-dark eyes, carrying a sports bottle with both hands. The boy came to Walker without fear and held out the bottle.
Walker took it, mystified. He knew that if he tried anything, such as hitting the kid or slamming Rebecca onto her back and barreling through Olaf to get away, Rebecca would kill him. The look on her face told him no less.
Walker wouldn’t use a child to help himself escape. He wasn’t that way. He upended the bottle of water and drank.
They might have drugged the water to keep him groggy, but at this point, Walker didn’t care. When he was more rested and no longer thirsty, he’d be better fit to get away. The water tasted normal, though, nothing added that he could taste.
Olaf watched him drink, his look grave. No child should be so quiet and serious. He didn’t look anything like Rebecca, so not her son or her brother. The kid was about ten, his eyes black—not dark brown as Walker had first thought. They were the eyes of an animal, a sad animal.
Walker handed the empty bottle back to Olaf. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Olaf said, then he turned and walked back to the kitchen, his job finished.
“Were you trying to lull me into submission with a cute kid?” Walker asked, wiping his mouth.
“Did it work?”
“I don’t hurt kids.”
“I’m glad. I’d have had to hurt you if you did.”
“I thought so,” Walker said.
In the next instant, he struck. Rebecca had been drawing a breath to continue the banter, but she let out the breath with an oomph as she fell.
Walker had grabbed her leg—silken skin over firm muscle—and jerked, reaching up to pin her when she came down.
Rebecca landed on his chest, a hundred sixty pounds or so of woman, her breasts soft against the harder planes of his chest.
She had great reflexes. Walker had started a roll to put her beneath him, where he’d wrap her hands in the loose tape, but he couldn’t move her.
Rebecca had him pinned; his back was solid against the rug, Rebecca’s hold on his shoulders perfect. Her smile didn’t waver. “Not a bad attempt.”
“Had to try,” Walker said.
Rebecca came closer, her breath warm on his face. “You know what, Walker? I’m a Shifter woman in my fertile years. You know what that makes me?” She lowered herself closer still. “Horny. Very, very horny.”
And helping her take care of that wouldn’t be bad. Not bad at all. Walker’s thumping heart and hardening cock would have told him that even if his brain didn’t. She was a lush, female armful, very tempting.
Any man but Walker would have taken her up on the offer and let her bang him right here, surrendering to the beauty of her. But Walker never mixed sex with his missions. Sex was for celebration, for taking his ease afterward, for loving. He wanted to be in a position where he could let down his guard and enjoy himself. Stopping a mission for sex was appallingly stupid. It took only a little self-control to stay focused.
Rebecca might have good reflexes, and she might be the hottest thing he’d seen in a long, long time, but she wasn’t a trained fighter. Not trained in fighting dirty.
Walker heaved himself up, and heaved fast. One lightning move and he had her off him, sliding her across the floor, out of his way. Walker rolled to his knees, then levered himself to his feet, reaching for the tape on his legs.
Rebecca landed hard, with enough impact for her to hit the bottom of the stairs, smacking her head on the post. Walker hadn’t meant for that to happen, but it would slow her enough for him to get his legs free and himself out the window. Shifters could hunt him down faster than he could run away, but Walker knew how to hot-wire a car in ten seconds flat.
“Oh.” Rebecca pushed her hair from her face. “Now.”
Walker jerked at the tape until it came unstuck from his black fatigue pants, wishing they hadn’t taken his knife. They’d wound a huge wad of tape around him, and he fought to pull it free.
Rebecca slid her shirt off over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but Walker didn’t let himself look, not fully. What he saw from the corner of his eye was pretty good though.
Rebecca shoved down her shorts and then her panties more rapidly than Walker could unwind the tape. Her bare body came into view, curved, gorgeous, mouthwatering.
“Damn it,” she said. “I did not want to go bear in front of you.”
The last words degenerated into one long growl as Rebecca’s body expanded and changed, growing fur and claws longer than any knife Walker ever carried. She shifted and grew, the growls becoming louder, until finally Walker saw exactly what kind of bear she was.
Kodiak.
Ordinary Kodiak bears were gigantic. A Shifter Kodiak, even a female, was at least twice that size. No wonder all the furniture in here was pushed against the walls.
Walker got himself free of the tape. He made it one step toward the open window before a giant bear paw brought him down. Rebecca’s mouth opened to
show her horrifyingly large teeth before she flipped him onto his back and held him there the most effective way she could—lying down on him.
She let him breathe, at least. Her large body kept him as well-pinned as she had in her human form, except now she was warmer and heavier, and had a lot more fur.
Rebecca nuzzled his face with her large bear nose, her dark eyes filled with amusement. She raised her head and huffed a little, and Walker swore she was laughing.
* * *
When Tiger woke again, the afternoon was waning, long blocks of light slanting through the windows. He’d learned that in this season—summer—the light lingered for a long time, so it could be eight in the evening already.
The first sensation he had was one of rightness. His body felt much better, the horrific pain gone. His headache had receded, leaving only a slight pounding to remind him of the previous hurt.
The second was stunned wonder. Much of the rightness he felt came from the fact that Carly was lying next to him, curled up under the sheet, her head on a pillow.
Tiger’s bed was large, the biggest in the house. He was as bulky as Liam, though he shared height with Ronan, a Kodiak bear Shifter. Kim had gotten Tiger a bigger bed because when Tiger had first arrived, he’d been restless at night, rolling from side to side. Hard to find comfort on the small mattress that had been Connor’s when his previous sleeping pallet had been the metal floor of a cage. After he’d fallen out of the smaller bed a few times, Kim had brought home the larger one.
Carly had plenty of room in the bed. The fan played near the window. It, combined with the cooling breeze from all four open windows, had made Carly pull the sheet over herself. One thigh, covered with a couple of inches of the canvas-cloth shorts she’d put on at Ethan’s, poked out from beneath the sheet.
Her makeup was smeared from the accident and sleep, her hair was messed from its careful French braid. Beautiful. Tiger would explain that Carly didn’t need the face paint and her hair tucked away for her to be pretty.
But she was unhurt. Tiger scented that from her, saw it in her unbroken skin. She’d been bruised and afraid, but not hurt. He let himself believe in the Goddess long enough to be thankful.
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