by Elle Thorne
He shook his head. “My brother. With a seer.”
“Yeah, and he jacked her skills and—”
He laughed. “I bet that created some havoc.”
“It—well, let’s just say, they had some interesting times before they ended up in New Orleans.”
“That’s where he is now?”
Griz nodded. “He’s Lézare’s guest. But hating every minute of the heat and missing the hell out of the mountains.”
“I can relate.” Dunn looked at the threesome of Griz’s nephews and noted the absence of Flix once more. “I thought you said Flix was down here.”
Cross—or Lance or Judge, he really hadn’t learned who was who yet—said, “He got a phone call. He stepped outside for a moment.”
Pushing the food aside, Dunn rose to his feet, though his movements were still rigor-lethargic. “I’ll be right back.” He pushed open the door that led outside and scanned the porch. No Flix. Huh. Using his shifter senses, he inhaled deeply and sought out the various scents. There were too many shifters for him to pick Flix’s scent out. And it had been too long since he’d seen him. He noticed a phone on the bannister and picked it up. Why would Flix leave his—
A leopard bounded out of the forest, heading straight for him. Dunn braced himself, his bear on full alert. The leopard stopped just short, rose on his hindlegs and put his front paws on Dunn’s shoulders. He chuffed a greeting, rubbed his head on Dunn’s, back and forth, up and down.
“Quit that. You’re going to knock me down.” He could barely stand up against the leopard’s weight, and the rigor was making his ability to shift sluggish. He dropped the phone he’d picked up.
Before his eyes, with the predictable array of sinew lengthening, bone realigning, and muscle screeching, a human appeared where the leopard had been. The human’s hands were still on his shoulders. Bruises and contusions marred his face. His clothing looked like it always did after a shift. Rumpled as hell. But in Flix’s case, it also appeared he’d been rolling around in the pine needles. The sticky pointies stuck out in all directions in his hair and on this shirt.
He hugged Dunn. “Good to see you made it.”
“Flix.” He appraised his friend. Dark hair, dark eyes, purple bruises, healing cuts. “You got the bad end of it.”
Francisco Moretti was his given name, but no one called him Francisco. At least, Dunn had never heard anyone call him that. He’d heard stories about why he was called Flix, but no one had confirmed any story above any other. Dunn liked to think it was because they’d said he was good-looking enough to be in the movies, so he’d been coined Flix from that day on. But who knew the truth? And Flix wasn’t one to enjoy talking about himself.
He had known Flix for a long time. The three of them, Dunnigan, Slate, and Flix had been cubs held in the same internment camp. Displaced cubs after a territorial shifter dispute that left many of the grown shifters dead. The cubs though, they’d been hidden away from the battle by their mothers. So when the authorities came, they found three miserable little cubs that had been hunting and making do the best they could with the scraps left behind by scavengers and vultures. Two bear cubs and one leopard cub, they’d spent six months together in that forest, hiding from anyone until one fated day when they were discovered. They spent another six months together at the camp while those in charge tried to find their families. They were separated then, Dunnigan and Slate shipped off to grandparents and Flix sent off—he’d shared where. The three of them had come into contact again, after they were grown themselves. And though the humans were not close, their animals had never forgotten that early bond.
“It could have been worse.” Flix’s eyes narrowed. “My cat needed some space. I knew it would help me heal quickly, and now that you’ve been found, I felt better about slipping out of my human skin for a while.”
Flix had always preferred to be in his rosette-covered leopard skin far more than his olive-skinned Italian human body.
“Sorry you took such a beating on my behalf.”
Flix waved his apology off. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. On anyone’s behalf. It’s what happens when you’re the purveyor of information. Sorry they got a hold of that drive with Razorpeak info. It was encrypted. Not by me, because if I’d been the one to encrypt it, they’d have never cracked it.”
“It is what it is.”
“Why are they so hot and bothered to find you? And what’s your next move?”
He liked Flix, on a personal level. He liked him a lot. But he wasn’t sure how much Griz had told him about the deathbending. And really, was it wise to share that kind of a secret with someone who was a purveyor of information? Things he knew could be made for sale. What if the right bidder came along? Would he sell Dunn out? His bear roared because he hadn’t sold them out yet. Which was true, he’d gotten a serious ass-kicking and hadn’t revealed anything, but still… Trust was a limited commodity for Dunn.
“Let’s just say I know things.”
Flix’s amber gaze took his measure, as though looking at him could reveal something Dunn wasn’t willing to tell.
It made his skin itch that Griz, Doc, and Mae—not to mention Griz’s nephews—knew about his deathbending.
“Got to trust someone, sometime,” his grandfather used to say. Dunn just wasn’t sure if he could ascertain when that sometime and who that someone was.
The back door opened. Griz popped his head out. Dunn wished he had a moment alone with him to ask him if he’d told Flix anything.
“Glad to know you’re okay.” Flix clapped him on the shoulder then picked his phone up and tucked it into his pocket. “I need to get back,” he told Griz. “If that offer for a helicopter ride still stands.”
“Absolutely.”
They stepped inside. One of Griz’s nephews was swiping his phone and ending a call.
“Seems Dr. Morales has made the news.”
Chapter Sixteen
Meri had a to-do list from hell. One she’d assembled and etched in her brain, if not on paper.
One. Take another pregnancy test.
Because five positives just weren’t enough? And how did that guy and that woman know she was pregnant? How’d they figure it out before she did?
Two. Call Josh and tell him I’m pregnant.
Because she was pretty sure if five were positive, the sixth would be, too. But hey, she should double check.
Three. Call Doctor Broussard and tell him…what? What could she tell him? That her project was complete? That she and a supposed dead man—who really was dead now—had escaped from the secret military type facility she’d been lent to?
What kind of repercussions would she face for not having completed her job? Would she lose her research program? Her position at Notre Dame?
What about the weird shit she’d seen? The beast-man? Would Razorpeak be searching for her to shut her up? Maybe holing up here was the wrong idea. Way wrong. Would this be the first place they’d look for her?
Okay, okay. Hold on. Her mental meanderings were getting out of hand. First task, first. Doublecheck the pregnancy.
A few minutes later, she threw the pregnancy test wand onto the stack that had already accumulated on her bathroom sink. Another positive. Six tests. All positives.
She hadn’t left her apartment since Mae Forester had brought her back. Meri didn’t want to resume life as usual. Hell, she couldn’t. How could she? Before she’d been dropped off, she’d asked Mae to take her to a grocery store where she’d stocked up on pregnancy tests and frozen pizzas. She hadn’t gone to work. She hadn’t contacted anyone. She’d gone online and ordered a new cell phone since she didn’t have one—fucking Wheeler. Realized she didn’t have her wallet—no credit cards—and paid for it using her PayPal. Thank goodness for PayPal.
Back to the tests. Six positives. So she was pregnant with Josh’s baby. Time to reach out to him. Using her landline she called his number. He picked up on the first ring.
“I’m pregnan
t.”
“Who the hell is this?”
Asshole. So, in just that little bit of time, he’d already forgotten her voice. Or maybe he just had that many women calling him. That many who’d claim to be pregnant. “It’s Meredith.” You prick. She couldn’t add the last bit. It didn’t seem like what you did when you called a man to tell him you were expecting his baby.
“Is it mine?” No niceties. No greetings. No concern. Just worried if it was his.
Meri fumed. “Of course it’s yours.” I’m not the one who was sleeping around. Again, not something you said when announcing to a guy that you were carrying his child.
“You want money for an abortion? What’s that run? Two? Three hundred? I’ll PayPal you the money.”
She leaned against the counter, her head in her hand. What was there to say to that? She hung up the phone.
She had to regroup. Think. Plan.
Josh had been called. She’d done her job. No, she wasn’t having an abortion, nor did she owe him to put his name on the birth certificate. He’d made it plenty clear where he stood on the matter.
Next was to call Dr. Broussard. Right? Or maybe email him? Email. She should check her email first.
Flipping the switch to turn the television on first, she then booted up her laptop and scanned channels while she logged on and waited for the emails to populate.
Only a shit-ton. She sorted through them, ignoring the ones that could be and looking for anything that seemed urgent that she should address before writing Dr. Broussard to check on her status. Well, maybe she wouldn’t phrase it that way. She didn’t want to draw his attention to anything he might not be aware of. Like her escaping Razorpeak. Or helping someone else escape. Who was supposed to be dead. Or even knowing that she was at Razorpeak. Speaking of, that made her think of Agnes Gaston, from the Board of Fellows. What did she know about Razorpeak and what was going on there? Did she know they were creating hybrid man-beasts there? Did she know the lengths they went to in order to keep people from leaving?
Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, she bypassed an assortment of nonurgent emails—
The sound of her name caught her attention. She looked up at the television screen.
Her picture. The word possible abduction beneath her face.
Wait. What the fuck?
She leaned forward. All thoughts of emails and plans and to-do lists the farthest from her mind.
The newscaster’s voice came from the TV, while her picture was still, right there, larger than life, front and center. “Notre Dame’s own, Dr. Meredith Morales, on assignment”—Meri noticed the newscaster hadn’t said where she was on assignment—“has been declared missing. Possibly abducted from a secure site.”
“Secure my ass.” This meant someone was searching for her. They’d come here. How the hell— What was she supposed to—
One thing came to mind. One thing alone.
Run!
Where do you run when the government or some secret group are looking for you? You can’t go to your friends. You can’t—
She knew who she could reach out to. She hadn’t really had a relationship with him since she’d turned eighteen and left. Meri picked up the phone and dialed a number she hoped hadn’t changed.
It hadn’t.
“I need your help.”
“Meredith. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Hi—” She couldn’t say Dad. Her days of calling him Dad ended when her mother died. “I’m in a bind.”
“The news said you’d been abducted—”
“Jesus. You get news from Indiana all the way— Where are you these days?”
“Kiev.”
“Not sure you can help me from Kiev. I need…I wasn’t abducted, but some not-so-savory people”—like my father, couldn’t say that either—“are looking for me.”
“I can send a man for you. He can protect you.” A pause. “Meredith. Have you forgiven me yet?”
She puffed out her cheeks then glanced around her apartment, but instead, she saw her mother, gasping, dying. She thought of the baby in her body. A baby she’d like to keep, regardless of who the father was. This baby was a part of her. This—
She choked back a sob. Her mother wouldn’t be there to turn to for advice, for help, for anything. The man on the other end of the line was silent, waiting. She realized he’d been waiting for a long time.
“I know you didn’t personally kill her.” She barely managed to get the words out of a mouth that felt like it was filled with sand.
“If I’d known…”
She’d heard this before. If he’d known her life was in danger because of his job. If he’d known they’d have come after his family. If he’d… If he’d… If he’d…
Yes. Heard it. All of it. Before. Many, many times. Tell that to a little girl growing up without a mother. With a father who she saw maybe every couple of weeks because of his job. His military, secret job. Was it any wonder she hated the military and secrets and shit like that? And to end up at Razorpeak. The fucking irony. And now to have to run because of secrets. Military shit. Razorpeak shit.
“I know, Dad.” She hadn’t called him that since they’d buried her mother. On the other end of the line, he took a sharp breath at the moniker. “I forgive you.”
And she did. She could accept that he’d not wanted his wife dead. And she’d never told him she’d overheard her mother talking to a friend about leaving him. About taking little Meredith and leaving George Morales. Starting over. She’d never had the chance.
What choice did Meredith have but to forgive the man who’d chosen duty and country over his family? A man who was married to the government.
“For what it’s worth, I avenged your mother’s death. Those men, the men that hurt her, and the men that ordered it, they are all dead.”
Then he fell silent. Meri didn’t know what to say to this. How was her father better than those men? Yet he was her father. She sighed.
“Let me send someone to help you.”
“Okay. I can’t stay here.”
“I’ve already put that in motion. He’ll be there within the hour.”
Of course, he had. Man of action, her father. Even if the action wasn’t always good. “How did you do that? How do you—never mind. Do you know anything about a place called Razorpeak?”
There was silence on the other side of the line. A long silence.
“Dad?” Her stomach flipped. Nausea roiled. Was this because of her father or the baby? She didn’t know. Did it really matter?
“I’ll have to look into that.”
Even after all these years, he was still holding something back. He knew something. “Dad.”
“I’ll call you after the man I’m sending comes to get you. He’ll use the name Darwin. If he doesn’t, I didn’t send him.” His tone was all business. This was the man she remembered from all those years ago, barking orders into a phone.
“You were more than a diplomat, weren’t you? Not your average attaché, right?” She knew this. Why was she pushing the issue? Did she want to force him to say it out loud? To admit to something?
“Meredith. My assistant booked a flight for me. I’ll land at O’Hare in less than twenty-four hours. I’ll meet you in Chicago. My contact will set you up with a hotel. Wait for me there. Don’t go anywhere.”
Why did he sound more worried about this than he should have? “They took my cell phone. I ordered another one, but it’s not here yet.”
“Darwin will give you his. Whatever you’re involved in, I can help.”
“Okay.”
“Meredith.” He swallowed so loud she could hear him, even over the phone line. “Thank you.” His voice full of emotion. With that he disconnected the line.
Meredith looked around the room. She’d need to pack for a couple of days at least. She snagged her laptop and its power cord. This was definitely going with her.
Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she didn’t have the foggiest idea whe
n she last ate. Must have been at Razorpeak. She unwrapped a frozen pizza and shoved it in the oven. Should have time to knock out at least a couple of slices before Darwin got here.
She tossed a few articles of clothing together and dumped them into an old travel bag, since her only good one was still at Razorpeak. Along with her wallet. And her phone. She sent a silent thank you to her father. She’d have been unable to manage a hotel room or anything with no ID or credit card.
She glanced at the TV every so often. How long would it be until the cops or someone came to her apartment? Shit. Should she even have the lights on? They’d know she was home. She turned the lights and the TV off and sat in the darkness, waiting, with the wafting aroma of a pepperoni pizza tempting stomach growls to fill the silent room.
She jumped when a knock at the door shattered the silence.
“Dr. Morales?”
She leapt to answer it then thought maybe she shouldn’t because, what if it wasn’t Darwin? She crept toward the door. She wanted to look through the peephole but realized this meant they’d see her eyeball. Wouldn’t they? She’d never tested the theory.
“Dr. Morales. Darwin.”
She threw the door open. “Darwin! Thank God. I was so worr—”
“My name’s not Darwin. I’m Colin. Darwin—survival of the fittest—get it?”
“What? Oh, yes.” Stupid military code names and shit. She grabbed her bag.
“Your father said you’d need this.” He handed her a cell phone. “No passcode needed. This your only bag?” He took her ragged duffel and nodded her forward.
“That’s my only bag. Thanks.” She tucked the phone in her back pocket and closed the door behind him.
“We’re in the black Buick on the corner. Parking’s a bitch around here.”
Precisely why she didn’t have a car. Who needed one when everything was within walking distance, and parking was a pain in the ass?
“Follow me.”
As though she planned to do otherwise. Down the stairs and out into the evening air, she stayed close on Colin’s heels.