by Celia Kyle
Five shifters, one human, none of them authorized to do a damned thing in this place, but then again, they didn’t care.
Time to do bad things for the right reasons.
Cole only had one reason tonight—Stella.
Up ahead, Birch kicked in a door and shoved Walters forward, the bear following him in and then slamming that same door shut behind him.
“Hey,” Cole called ahead. “What the fuck?”
Declan glanced back and tipped his head toward the room their team alpha now occupied. “Boss man wants first crack.”
Cole’s tiger snarled, not liking that the bear had gone first. Sure, he submitted to the grizzly—the bear his alpha within SHOC—but his beast craved the violence against their human captive.
And his beast wouldn’t be denied.
The rest of the team remained outside the room, forming a line in front of the window with its one-way mirror. But Cole? Fuck it. He went inside. He stepped in softly, and then just as softly nudged the door closed. He focused on the bleeding man in the center of the room, Walters slumped in a dust-covered chair—skin pale and slicked with sweat, taking shallow breaths.
Cole joined his team alpha, mirroring the bear’s position—legs braced shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over his chest. Birch slowly turned his head, near-black eyes focusing on him, and his team alpha quirked a single brow.
A silent “what the fuck?”
He returned a raised brow of his own. “I’m not moving.”
Walters shifted in place, the chair creaking beneath his weight, which drew their attention back to him. He remained slumped in his seat, elbow braced on the other arm and palm cradling his head.
“You’re all so fucked.” Walters chuckled, the laugh turning into a moan. “So fucked.” The man flashed a crazed smile, his wild-eyed expression adding to his twisted appearance. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
Cole came forward, steps deliberate and pace slow. “Why don’t you tell us, then? ’Cause from where I’m standing, I’ve got a kill order with your name on it. No questions. No debates. Just a bullet to the brain and my job is done.”
Walters scoffed. “Not likely.”
“Aw, now, that’s just not right.” Cole looked back to his boss. “I think he called me a liar. Am I a liar, Birch?”
“Nope.” The grizzly shook his head. “Seems our fearless leader decided Mr. Walters can best serve our purposes by taking a permanent nap.”
That had the human freezing in place. “What are you talking about?”
Cole shrugged. “SHOC wants you dead. You’ve done enough over the years, and now it’s time to pay.” He grinned, his tiger’s fangs pushing through. “And I’m looking forward to taking my pound of flesh.”
“Wait a minute.” Walters shook his head. “This isn’t…This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m protected. I’m safe, God dammit.”
“Safe?” Cole chuckled, the sound evil even to his ears. “Hear that, Birch? He’s safe.” His next movements came in a blur, hand flashing to his side to withdraw a blade. Then he pressed the sharp tip beneath Walters’s chin. “Feeling safe now?”
Walters swallowed, that pointed tip slicing through his skin. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Don’t I?” He pressed the point a little deeper into the human’s flesh. The scent of Walters’s blood teased his nose, and his tiger roared for more. This man had hurt his jaguar mate. He’d taken something from her she could never get back. “It’s pretty clear that you’re no longer needed by SHOC. Maybe it’s time to cleanse your soul before you meet your Maker, huh?”
“Nah. Our Mr. Walters doesn’t have a soul. Do you, James?” Birch’s measured steps echoed off the walls. The grizzly stopped at Cole’s side. “You got something else, though.” His boss crouched at Cole’s side. “You got someone inside SHOC, and you’re gonna gimme his name.”
“Why should I?” Walters’s voice was reedy and thin.
“Bleeding out isn’t a fun way to die. My boy Cole can make it quick.”
Cole’s tiger snarled. It didn’t want the human’s death to be quick. It wanted it drawn-out, nice and slow and painful as hell. Fur rippled along his arms in a wave of orange and black, the cat making its displeasure known. He wouldn’t let it out though, wouldn’t turn his boss into a liar by acting without authorization.
“It just takes a name.” Birch pulled away, standing tall once more. “The name of your contact and you can die nice and clean.”
“No.” Walters tried to shake his head, but he froze with a low hiss as the blade dug into his flesh. “No. I’ll give you what you want, but I want out.”
Cole chuckled, the cat’s growl adding to the dark sound. “After everything you’ve done to our people.” He shook his head. “You’re dying, James Walters. You and all your little friends. The only thing open to negotiation is how long it takes.” He lifted his free hand into Walters’s view and let the tiger roll forward. He shifted his fingers into claws, the dark nails emerging from his human nail beds. “I can snap your neck, or I can carve the name of every shifter you’ve ever harmed into your skin with these. You’ll die”—he sliced through Walters’s shirt, leaving shredded fabric in his wake—“eventually.”
Personally, Cole voted for taking his time with the human. A very, very long time.
“No way. If I’m going to reveal him, I want my freedom.”
At least they’d confirmed the UH contact inside SHOC was male.
“I’m not hearing a name, Mr. Walters.” Birch drawled the words.
“I—”
A knock cut off whatever Walters might have said, Ethan nudging the door open and interrupting their interrogation. “Boss, Grant’s got a visitor on his camera, and Declan has him in his sights.”
“Identity?”
Cole kept his gaze on Walters while the other two talked, watching for any change in his expression.
“Our good old boy from Three—Hartley—and crew, if I know the ass.” Ethan’s distaste for the snake shifter was obvious in his voice. “Hold. Declan spotted someone else.” The seconds ticked past, Cole not letting his attention wander. “Our illustrious director showed, too.”
Cole learned a couple things right then: (1) he wasn’t gonna get his blood-soaked fun and (2) James Walters knew both Hartley and Quade.
Chapter Thirty-six
Cole was one antsy-as-hell tiger. Not that he’d admit that shit to anyone. He was a big, badass tiger—a fucking SHOC agent. Those kind of shifters didn’t worry about seeing their mate after they’d left her behind for an op. Well, he’d tried to leave her behind, but the woman was…fucking amazing. He’d wanted to keep her safe by excluding her from the op, but she’d shown up anyway and then had gotten a bit of revenge on James Walters. Then he and the guys had gotten a little more.
He smiled with that memory, hearing James Walters’s screams while they ensured his need for medical attention had been fun. Though that smile turned into a frown as some of the un-fun events pushed forward. Like the fact that Team Three showed up at the satellite base to pick up the human even though no one had reported that they’d had Walters in custody. Conveniently, the director had “changed his mind” about killing Walters. Uh-huh.
Further proof that there was a mole in SHOC. One that had the ability to move teams around like chess pieces. Birch had always been good at chess, and Grant was a smart fucker. They’d figure it out and let the rest of the team know who they needed to hunt.
At the moment they were regrouping—taking a break after this last hunt. Between the weekend on Serene Isle and then continuing the hunt for Walters on dry land, they were due a week of decompression time. Then they’d be back on call.
Now, standing at the edge of the forest that surrounded Birch’s lakeside cabin, Cole wished they were already back at work. It’d give him an excuse to stay away a little longer. Just enough time to figure out what the hell he was gonna tell his mate.
Hey, babe, the thing abou
t it is…
He sounded like a chick. Plus, he never called Stella “babe.” Shit. He ran his hand through his hair, fisting the strands and tugging in the hopes that the slight sting would help him think. It didn’t. Cole sighed and leaned against one of the thick pine trees. He’d had two days to figure shit out and hadn’t. So. Fucked.
“You’re so fucked.” Grant followed his words with a low chuckle.
Cole stiffened, but he remained silent. He wasn’t about to let the wolf know he’d surprised him. “Grant,” he drawled. “How it’s hanging?”
“They’re swinging a little to the left.” Grant’s steps were loud, shoes crunching over dead leaves, pine needles, and twigs. “But I know you didn’t come here to talk about my balls.” The wolf leaned against a nearby tree, back against the bar. “You’re here to see the woman who’s holding yours.”
He turned his head and glared at his teammate. “She’s not holding my junk.”
Grant shrugged. “Then why are you still standing out here like a ball-less wonder?” He jerked his chin toward Birch’s cabin. “Go inside.”
“I will.”
“Before she’s ninety?”
Cole curled his lip. “Fuck off.”
“Nah, no fucking for me. Isn’t that why I got shipped here to babysit? Because your woman couldn’t wrap me around her pinkie? You know, like she did with Pike.”
He snorted. “Pike is in so much shit for bringing her on the op. When I left, Birch was sitting on his front porch with a tall glass of sweet tea. He told Pike to run—”
They finished together. “—until my balls are sweating.”
“He even brought out a little battery-powered fan to keep himself cool. Last I saw, Abby was giving him a fresh glass of tea and there wasn’t a drop of sweat in sight.”
He grinned at the memory. Not just because Pike was getting run into the ground. He also recalled the curve of Abby’s pregnant stomach. He mentally replaced Stella with Abby, her belly filled with his child. He didn’t care if they had a jaguar or a tiger as long as the baby was healthy. Of course, getting her pregnant required his presence, and he was still standing at the tree line. He had a big dick, but it wasn’t long enough to impregnate her from that distance.
Grant grunted. “Hopefully, Pike learns something.”
“Unlikely.” Cole shrugged. “The kid’s young.”
“We were all young once. He hasn’t been shot and he hasn’t had an op go sideways on him. He’ll get there.”
It was Cole’s turn to grunt. “What makes you sure the kid can learn? Can change?”
Grant pressed his lips together, attention moving from Cole to the placid lake. “Anyone can change and learn from their mistakes. Even if someone has been wrong their whole life, they can still open their eyes and realize they fucked up. Sometimes it takes some training. Other times it takes a helping hand.”
Cole quirked an eyebrow. “We still talking about Pike? Because it doesn’t sound like we’re talking about Pike.”
The wolf returned his attention to Cole. “Fuck off.”
He just snorted. “Right. So, we’re not talking about Pike.”
The werewolf crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t we talk about you and Stella, then?”
He glared at his teammate. “Stella and I are fine.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re still out here and she’s still in there. She knows your ass is here. You get that, right? She’s your mate, motherfucker. Even if she hates you right now, she’ll get over it.” Grant lowered his voice, but Cole still heard his next word. “Eventually.”
“I was an ass.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I shouldn’t have left her.”
“Nope.”
“I broke my promise.”
“-ish. You broke-ish your promise.” Grant shook his head. “None of us could have known that our mole would find him so quick. We didn’t even check in at the satellite base just so we could keep Walters’s captivity on the down low, but Team Three still showed up before we got our hurt on. Not your fault, man.”
“Whatever.” Cole’s tiger disagreed. It still raged in the back of his mind, snarling, pushing, and prodding him to go hunt Walters once more. The next time they got their paws on him, he’d be dead.
“God, you’re gonna be fucking stubborn, aren’t you?” Grant clicked his tongue. “What the hell is it with you mated guys?”
“I will put a bomb in your truck if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“You blow it up, you bought it. My insurance company isn’t going to pay for any more ‘mysterious incidents.’” Grant even did air quotes. “They’ve already paid for three totaled trucks.”
“They weren’t all my fault.” Cole pointed at Grant. “Ethan drove the last one off the overpass.”
Even Grant smiled and chuckled a little at that one. “The tree frog wasn’t even inside the cab—it was on the windshield. But there he is screaming like a girl and running off the road.” He shook his head, his laughter dying off, but then his mood quickly changed. “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Which was a lie, but whatever.
“Uh-huh. Nut up or shut up, Cole.” Grant pointed at the cabin. “Go in there and apologize to your mate for being a dick. Give her the shitty news about Walters. Then kiss and make up.”
Cole rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
“If you don’t”—the wolf pushed away from the tree and prowled forward, slowly closing the distance between them—“I’ll call your mother.”
His breath caught, his heartbeat stuttering. “You wouldn’t.”
“Fuck yeah, I would.”
“That’s cold, man.” He stared at the ground, shaking his head. “Ice cold.”
Grant shrugged. “I bet your bed is, too. It’ll be even colder if your mother finds out you got mated and didn’t tell her. You know she’ll have the family jet on its way here within thirty seconds of my call. Then she’ll be in your shit until you agree to a froufrou mating party. A party your mate might plan, but you know your mother. She’ll move into your house at headquarters just so that she’s on hand to ‘help.’” The wolf grinned. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Unfortunately, Grant wasn’t wrong. He’d seen his mother do the same to his siblings. He and Stella needed to present a united front if they were going to survive his mother’s passion for parties. Cole got money from his father’s companies. He got his strategic planning, surveillance, and interest in explosives from his mother. (His mother was never happy with “off-the-shelf” fireworks.)
It was time for him to get over his crap. Cole straightened and shoved Grant back. “Go eat something, Grant. I got shit to do.”
“You mean a woman to do?”
“I will punch you in your suckhole so hard you’ll be eating through a straw for a week.”
Grant smiled wide and gave Cole a two-finger salute. “And that’s my cue to leave. Good luck.”
* * *
Stella sensed Cole’s presence, something inside her connecting with her mate and announcing his nearness. She couldn’t pinpoint his location. She simply knew he was coming closer. Her jaguar purred, anxious to reconnect with their other half while Stella’s human mind balked at his arrival. Just because she’d left James Walters in Cole’s hands two days ago didn’t mean she wasn’t still pissed at the tiger. The old pain of being left behind reared its ugly head once more.
The feline in her mind hissed, baring its fangs and snarling. It didn’t like Stella’s attitude. Cole had come for them; their mate was near. She should run to the tiger and leap into his arms, then lift her tail and…She cut off the cat’s line of thinking. That really wasn’t happening. The beast hissed again—louder and longer this time.
She simply shook her head and sighed. She’d been having this same argument in varying degrees for two days. The cat told her that it was determined to win. It was the jaguar’s turn, dammit
. Stella brushed off the beast. It was funny to joke about taking turns over inconsequential things, but this was their life, their future. The animal assured her that it was right and Stella was wrong. Full stop.
She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to continue the argument. Full stop. She sneered at her inner beast. The cat was not amused. But Stella was, so she counted it a win.
The closer Cole moved, the stronger his pull, the connection almost like a physical rope stretched between them. His every step felt like a tug on the line, making her uncomfortable yet excited at the same time. Was she ready for this confrontation? Not really, but they were mated. She couldn’t just ignore the male.
So she rose from the living room couch and closed her eyes for a moment, sensing Cole’s direction. She was pulled toward the back of the house and through the kitchen, onward to the back door. The smooth lake spread out before her, but that wasn’t what snared her attention.
No, it was the single male who stood in the middle of the backyard who had her focus. He remained in place, those blue eyes turning amber while she stared at him. He wore his typical off-duty uniform—worn jeans and a thin T-shirt—and had his hands tucked in his pockets. Because he was nervous? Unsure? Nah, that couldn’t be it. Cole Turner was one of the most self-assured shifters she’d ever met. He made decisions and took action without a hint of hesitation.
And yet he hadn’t budged an inch. He remained right there, sun slowly casting him in shadow as it sank toward the horizon. The longer she stared, the more Stella’s cat reacted to his nearness, the beast pushing forward and demanding a larger presence. It wanted to be part of the reconnection, dammit. She couldn’t find a reason to deny the jaguar as long as it understood she was not getting her fur on in the near future. After that escapade during the op, she’d kept the bitch under lock, key, and concrete block.
Her jaguar purred as she released the heaviest of her mental locks and then padded forward. Stella’s eyesight changed, the brighter colors fading as the cat infused her eyes. Now the beast urged her to move again. All she had to do was step out the door and…And if the cat didn’t shut up, its furry ass would spend the rest of its life inside a sound-proofed mental cage.