Forbidden Instinct

by Cassandra Chandler

  Mr. Reece let out a huge yawn, holding a fisted hand up to his mouth to partially cover it. The guy had huge canine teeth. Sharp, too.

  Con man, construction worker, or vampire?

  Darren would have laughed at his thought, if he wasn’t so worried that he was about to be fired. The stress must be getting to him.

  “I’m sorry to call you in at this late hour,” Mrs. Ford said.

  Mr. Reece smiled and shook his head, but yawned again. He waved his hand briefly toward the track lighting for some reason, then said, “Not a problem. I usually keep late hours. But I do need to be on my way. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything from my contacts.”

  “I appreciate it,” Mrs. Ford said.

  He leaned in to Mrs. Ford and kissed both cheeks. Morrison bristled, but Mr. Reece only smiled at the other man. He nodded to Darren and Scott as he left the room.

  A fence, maybe? Or someone with connections to illicit antiquities trades?

  Mrs. Ford walked back around to her seat behind her desk, smoothing her skirt again as she sat. Morrison took up his position standing behind her.

  “I only asked to see Darren,” she said. “Scott can go.”

  “That’s crap,” Scott said. “We were partners on this job. Anything you have to say to him, you can say in front of me.”

  Mrs. Ford just stared at Scott calmly. If he was considering throwing himself on the grenade to save Darren, it didn’t look like it was going to work, even if Darren would allow it—which he wouldn’t.

  She let them stew for long enough that Scott started shifting his weight from one foot to another uneasily.

  “Are you finished?” she finally said.

  Scott kept quiet. Probably for the best.

  “I’ve reviewed your reports and will be speaking with each of you separately.” She looked pointedly at Scott. “If you would please step outside.”

  “It’s okay, Scott,” Darren said.

  Scott cast one final glare over his shoulder at his mother, then stalked outside.

  Mrs. Ford shook her head. She ignored Darren for another minute, signing a few documents before placing them in a neat stack on top of her desk. When she was done, she very deliberately clicked the cap in place on her pen, then leaned back in her chair.

  “My husband started this company,” she said. “He wanted to create a legacy for his family. I’ve worked hard to keep things running. To make the company even stronger than it was when he passed away.”

  Darren knew better than to say anything. He stared at a fixed point on the wall behind her shoulder, his gaze and stance mirroring Morrison’s.

  “My son is supposed to run this company someday. I had hoped someday soon. But to do that, he needs experience. Knowledge. Most of all, he needs to take our work seriously. I hired you to facilitate that, Mr. Calverton. And you have failed.”

  Darren sucked in a breath to launch a retort, but stopped himself. He let the breath out slowly instead, checking his temper.

  “You hired me to provide security for specific high-level assignments,” Darren said.

  “Scott was your assignment.”

  Darren chose his words carefully, pushing against the rage that seethed inside of him. “Forgive me, but grooming Scott to take over the company wasn’t in my job description.”

  “You have a business degree,” she said. “Scott can gain field experience over time, but what he truly needs to develop to run this company is business acumen. Something I had hoped he would learn from you.”

  “You didn’t hire me to tutor your son on business matters.” Some of Darren’s frustration was seeping through.

  “Didn’t I? Did it escape your notice that the majority of your peers have extensive military and combat experience? Tours and active duty?”

  Darren tamped down tightly on the anger that surged up in him, keeping his voice low and calm. “All of us went through the same training when we came on board with the company. I passed all the same tests.”

  That didn’t stop the other guys from constantly taunting him, but he’d thought that at least Mrs. Ford took him seriously. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

  Yes, he had a business degree. But he studied the strategies, he worked out, trained. Every employee at Ford Security had been molded to fit how the company wanted their workers to perform, no matter what their backgrounds had been.

  “You also have been given all of the lowest risk assignments,” she said.

  Darren’s stomach turned sour. “Some of those assignments involved extreme danger. We placed ourselves in mortal jeopardy on multiple occasions.”

  “Things don’t always turn out as we expect.”

  That was sure as hell right.

  Darren had wanted to protect people for as long as he could remember. He would have been a cop—like his dad—if he hadn’t watched the man struggle with two jobs to put Darren through school after his mom died.

  Working private security was supposed to let him help people while also having the resources to take care of his family—if he ever came up with the time to start one. Based on what Mrs. Ford was saying, his career was probably over.

  “I can’t see the future, Mr. Calverton,” she said. “I assure you, if I had known those assignments would be that dangerous, I would have given them to a more experienced team. A team that didn’t contain my son.”

  She stood up and walked around the desk, glaring up at Darren as if he wasn’t almost a foot taller than she was. Morrison dropped his arms to his sides, his hands balled into fists as he no doubt watched Darren closely for any sign of a threat—like they’d all been trained to do.

  “The black eye our company suffered today will set us back,” she said. “If it comes out that my son was involved, people won’t trust his leadership. They’ll stop trusting the company. And I can’t have that.”

  “You’re throwing me under the bus,” Darren said.

  “Who was the first to leave the package?” She fixed that stony gaze on him.

  “Lives were at stake.”

  “That wasn’t your concern. You had an assignment.”

  “Saving a life will always be my concern.”

  “Fine. That’s your choice. And you’re free to make as many more like it as you wish.”

  She picked up the paperwork from her desk and handed it to him. His eyes skimmed over the words, registering things like “non-disclosure reminder” and “severance”.

  “You’re firing me.” It didn’t feel real, even when Darren said the words out loud.

  “Our severance package is quite generous, especially considering the circumstances of your departure.”

  “Firing me and buying me off at the same time.”

  “You can condemn my decision all you like—in your own head. But if you leak one word of this to anyone else, I will sue you for breaking your non-disclosure agreement.”

  He didn’t doubt it.

  “Those are your copies.” She walked back to her seat, smoothing her skirt as she sat. “I expect you to clear out your locker immediately. I’d rather not draw too much attention to this, so Mr. Morrison will be personally overseeing your activities through the surveillance cameras rather than escorting you out of the building. I trust that you’ll conduct yourself in a professional manner.”

  The papers he was holding crunched as his hands flexed into fists. His head felt like it might explode into flames at any moment. He took a deep breath, suppressing the rage yet again.

  There was more going on here than she knew. Darren was sure someone in the company was involved with the theft. He doubted Mrs. Ford would listen to him at the moment, and with Morrison in the room, it wasn’t safe to voice any suspicions.

  Whoever had staged the accident had been willing to put innocent lives at risk. They had almost killed Miranda. For that reason alone, Darren would see them brought to justice.

  And he would clear his name.

  “Send in Scott, would you?” Mrs. Ford said.

 
Her stare was cold, but there was an uneasiness to it. Maybe she was wondering if he was going to argue or make a scene. He had other ideas.

  He would focus on his own investigation—on figuring out who stole those coins and who in the company had helped. He would see that person in jail. If Mrs. Ford didn’t offer Darren his job back after that, he’d still be able to go to another company.

  He turned around and walked out of her office.

  Scott fairly pounced on him the moment Darren stepped into the hallway.

  “What happened?” Scott said.

  Darren shook his head. “That’s for her to tell you. She’s waiting.”

  Scott glanced back and forth between Darren and his mom’s office door, uncertainty playing across his features.

  “It’s okay.” Darren forced a smile onto his face somehow as he rolled up the papers in his hands.

  “We’ll meet later?” Scott said. “To talk about this.”

  “Yeah. Better not keep her waiting.”

  Reluctantly, Scott slipped into the office.

  Darren didn’t waste any time. He walked briskly to the locker room. Thankfully, it was empty. He was already wearing his back-up outfit. He’d showered to get the gas off of him and bagged up his other clothes—minus his jacket.

  Miranda still had it. She’d been clutching it in her hands as the paramedics lifted her into the ambulance.

  He didn’t regret helping her. Would never regret it. If that gasoline had lit up, she would have burned to death.

  Everyone had been ignoring her car, probably thinking that the driver had been pancaked. He had seen it before at accident sites. Once people thought they understood a situation, they stopped looking for new information.

  Her having his jacket was a good thing, though. It gave him an excuse to check on her at the hospital. He would swing by the diner on his way home and see if anyone knew where she’d been taken. He needed to see her again—to know that she was okay.

  Thank God she had let them take her to receive care. If his mom had called for help sooner…

  He shook his head forcefully. Now was not the time to go down Miserable Memory Lane. He grabbed his things from his locker and headed for the building’s exit. If he was fast enough, he could avoid talking to Scott until they’d both had more time to calm down.

  Terry—the guard who monitored the foyer—was standing by the front door, blocking it. He was enormous. Six-foot-five and as big around as a century-old sequoia. He was also one of the friendliest people Darren had ever met.

  “New haircut, Terry?”

  Terry ran his hand over his gleaming scalp, then along the short cropped beard covering his chin. His brown eyes glittered, only a slightly darker shade of umber than his skin.

  “The wife likes it,” he said. “And what the wife likes…”

  Darren finished Terry’s standard statement. “The wife gets.”

  “You gotta know how to keep your partner happy.”

  Darren expected Terry to go into his usual, “When are you going to settle down? I want to come to your bachelor party. Our kids can play together.” Instead, his smile faded.

  “I hate to do this, but boss’s orders.” Terry glanced up at the camera, then cleared his throat. “I need your badge and keycard.”

  Another layer of reality crashed down on Darren. This was really happening.

  He felt like worms were crawling through his guts. His skin prickled and his face heated.

  He pulled his ID and keycard from his belt and handed them over. At least they didn’t ask for his piece. Ford Security’s workforce used their own sidearms after registering them with the company.

  Terry leaned down and whispered, “Sorry, man.”

  Darren nodded briefly, feeling the weight of the cameras on his back. He held his head high as he walked out the door.

  Chapter Five

  Every night Miranda worked, Jack would make her dinner. She usually had one of his skillet meals. Tonight she was eating Eden’s salad. Miranda didn’t want it to go to waste and doubted Eden would come back for it—if she came back at all.

  Miranda sniffed again, stabbing the lettuce and moving it around on her plate. She didn’t have much of an appetite.

  Eden only had a couple of days left. There probably wasn’t enough time to set things right between them.

  How much time was left for Miranda? Her hands started to shake as she thought about it—the fog in her vision and what it meant.

  Maybe we can make up on the other side.

  Her eyes filled with tears again. She had just covered them with her hands when one of the bells above the front door sounded. She wiped her face dry and stood up, sniffing. She’d told Jack she could handle working her shift. She wouldn’t let him down.

  She plastered a smile on her face and headed for the menus at the podium near the door, trying to avoid eye contact. She didn’t want any awkward, well-meaning questions about why she was upset.

  “Welcome to The Red Thread,” she said.

  “Miranda?”

  Her heart started to pound. “Darren? What are you doing here?” He normally didn’t show up until at least an hour after Eden left.

  “That’s a better question for you. Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  “They released me.”

  His lips pulled into a frown. “They should still be observing you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He took a step forward and reached out as if he was going to touch her. She wanted him to touch her again—to hold her in his arms like he had after the accident. But she didn’t trust herself not to hug him back or even try to kiss him, like she’d imagined doing so many times. And starting something with him now seemed cruel when she didn’t have much time left.

  She stepped toward the podium—away from him—and picked up a menu, even though she knew he didn’t need it.

  “Do you want your usual?” she asked.

  Her heart lurched as she took in the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. He lowered his hands and shook his head.

  “Actually, I wanted to ask about my jacket.”

  “Your… Oh right.”

  She had clung to his jacket in the ambulance—held it against her stomach while the EMTs attached things to her chest and arms. The nurses had barely managed to pry it away when they admitted her, stuffing it in a bag with her clothes.

  “It’s at my place,” she said. “I was going to have it cleaned for you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  He kept staring at her with more intensity than she’d ever seen from him before.

  “Is something else wrong?” he asked.

  She tried to tell him that everything was fine, but choked on the words. Her eyes filled with tears again.

  “Miranda…”

  This time, she couldn’t shy away when he stepped toward her. She was rooted in place. All of her energy was going toward trying not to cry as the fear came crashing down on her.

  She was going to die. Alone.

  Just like I’ve lived…

  She sucked in a breath, her body shaking as the knowledge of her own end sank in deeper. How would it happen? Would it hurt as bad as it did in the vision? Worse? Was the warmth and companionship she sensed on the other side wishful thinking, or was that actually what waited for her?

  Darren lifted his arms again, as if he was going to hug her.

  Please let him hug me.

  Instead, he rested his hands on her elbows and gently guided her to sit at the nearest table. He pulled a chair close and sat next to her.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “At the very least, you should be home resting.”

  “I know. But I’m going to need the money.” She wiped her eyes. “Hospital bills. Buying a new car.”

  Oh wait. I don’t need a car after all.

  Miranda could walk or ride the bus for a month. She did still have hospital bills to pay, and didn’t want to leave an unpaid debt. She also
didn’t want to leave her friendship with Eden where it was. They had so little time left. Miranda’s tears started up again, rolling down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.” Miranda wiped at her face and tried to get herself back under control.

  Darren unrolled a silverware set from the table and handed her the napkin. She buried her face in it, taking a few deep breaths in the illusion of privacy it provided. She clutched it in her lap when she had recovered a bit.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Anyone who’d been through what happened to you this morning would be shaken up.”

  “It’s not just that. I can handle that.” She let out a dry laugh and shook her head. “In the last twelve hours, I’ve totaled my car, lost my best friend, and found out—”

  She barely remembered to stop herself before telling him the truth.

  “Found out what?”

  I have about a month or so left before I die a painful death.

  When she didn’t answer, Darren said, “You can talk to me—tell me anything.”

  His voice was so gentle. He’d never spoken to her quite like this before.

  She had noticed the way Darren looked at her. Maybe they could have dated—explored each other to see what might come of it. Now they would never have a chance.

  “I found out some bad news.” She pulled a smile up through the depths of her sorrow. “It’s just a bad day. Tomorrow will be better.”

  He picked up both her hands, resting them on the crumpled napkin in her lap. His skin was cooler than she’d expected.

  She could give herself this—and only this—offer of comfort. She could hold his hands for a few moments, and pretend that she was normal.

  But she wasn’t normal. His future flowed into her.

  Derelict buildings surrounded Darren as he drove through a rough section of the city at night. The Old River district? Something huge ran in front of him. She saw strobes of white in the darkness, felt the weight of his gun held beneath a small flashlight.

  Then suddenly teeth. Fur. Blood. So much blood. She heard Darren’s scream as a huge animal bit into his arm and knocked him to the ground.