by Zoe Chant
He stopped to take another breath. Fiona wished she could put her arm around him and hold him tight, but he was so wound up that she was sure he’d jump out of his skin if she tried.
Finally, he went on, “The thing that lets me not sleep or eat. It’s called adrenaline invincibility. I was kidnapped by a black ops agency and held in a lab. They gave me that power. Made me a shifter, too. They said they were doing experiments and maybe they were, but it was torture, too. They made me—”
Justin swallowed. His fists clenched so hard that his knuckles went white. “I used to be a soldier, an airman. I rescued people. Saved their lives. Then Apex took me, and they made me into an assassin.”
He stopped as suddenly as if someone had put a hand over his mouth. His dark eyes seemed to be looking past her or through her, not at her. It was as if she wasn’t even there: as if he was once again in the lab, forced to endure terrible things, alone.
Fiona’s mind was racing. She could tell from the difficulty he was having that he’d never told anyone this story before, but it was all too familiar to her. Apex, the black ops agency that kidnapped people, made them into shifters, and gave them powers at a terrible price. The sadistic “experiments.” Being forced to become an assassin.
The same thing had happened to Shane. And as far as she knew, only one other person had survived it.
“I know who you are,” she blurted out. “You’re Red!”
Justin’s eyes came back into startled focus. “Yeah, that’s what they called me in the PJs. How did you know?”
“I’m friends with Shane Garrity. He told me you and he were PJs together until Apex captured you both. He said up until last year, he thought you were dead.”
“You and Shane are buddies?” Justin shook his head in amazement. “Small world. How do you know him?”
“We both work at Protection, Inc. It’s an all-shifter private security agency.”
“Even smaller world. I’ve met a couple of your teammates. Sort of.”
“I know. Shane said you turned up out of nowhere and helped Nick when he was hurt.”
“Nick,” he said thoughtfully. “Young guy with green eyes and a lot of tattoos? Broken leg, broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, bite wounds, gunshot wounds, and shock? How’s he doing?”
“He’s fine,” she assured him. “Completely recovered.”
“Let me ask a weird question. Do you remember what you were doing three days before Nick got...” Justin spoke as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “...bitten, shot, and fell from a height?”
“I do. I was undercover with some nasty characters who started suspecting that someone was spying on them. They interrogated me at gunpoint. There were a couple moments that were touch-and-go. But by the end of it I convinced them that someone else was the spy. They let me go, and I slipped away with the information I’d come for. The FBI broke down the doors just in time to stop them from murdering the man I’d pointed the finger at.”
“Huh. Well, that explains a lot. I’d been thinking my power had gone haywire. But I bet I was actually tracking you. Even though I’d never touched you—never even met you.”
Fiona had no idea what he was talking about. “What?”
“It’s something else Apex did to me. When I touch people, I can track them down, no matter where they go. Three days before Nick had his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I got the feeling that someone was in trouble and needed my help. That’s not how my power normally works, so I thought I’d better go see what was up. The problem is, I don’t get an address delivered into my head. I just get a sense of ‘that way.’” Justin pointed in demonstration.
“So I got in my car and started driving that way,” he went on. “By the time I arrived, the feeling was gone. But I was in Santa Martina and I knew Shane lived there, so I thought maybe he was in danger and I started tracking him. I found a guy who wasn’t Shane, but he sure as hell needed help. Shane turned up a couple minutes later—he was close. But I think the person I was originally zeroing in on was you.”
“Was that how you found me when those gangsters were about to kill me?”
“Yeah, same deal. I had a feeling someone was in trouble, I followed it, and I found you.”
“Because of the...” She’d been about to say, “the mate bond.” But there was no bond. Justin didn’t want to be her mate, and she could never be his even if he did. She stopped without finishing the sentence.
“Yeah. I assume because of...” Justin obviously found it as awkward as she did, because he finished with, “...that.”
But there was something that was both more important and easier to talk about than the odd interaction between their not-a-real-mate-bond and Justin’s power.
“Shane’s been worried sick about you,” she said. “I’ll call him right now and tell him you’re with me—”
“No!” Justin grabbed her wrist as if he thought she was about to reach for a phone. Then he released it like it was a hot potato. More quietly, he repeated, “No. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?” Fiona was puzzled. From the way Shane had talked about him, she’d thought they were best friends. “He can keep a secret. You should call him, just to let him know you’re all right.”
Justin sighed. “Well, that’s the thing. I’m not.”
“That’s exactly why you need to get in touch with him. Apex took him too. And let me tell you, when I first met him, he was very much not all right. But he’s a lot better now. He’d understand what you’ve been through. He could help you.”
He turned his dark gaze on her. “I said no. I promised to protect you, and I meant it. But I’m asking one thing in exchange. Don’t tell anyone about me. If you can’t promise me that, I’ll take you somewhere safe, and then I’ll disappear. For good.”
Fiona drew back. After fighting for their lives together, after the personal connection it had felt like they’d had, even after kissing her in a way that had sure as hell felt like he’d meant it, he was talking like she was nothing but a client who’d hired him.
“I was giving you my opinion,” she said icily. “That’s all. I had no intention of going behind your back. You don’t need to give me an ultimatum. If you’re dead-set on suffering all by yourself, far be it from me to stop you.”
“Good.” But he didn’t sound happy.
Then she remembered something. Awkwardly, she said, “There’s just one thing. I won’t tell anyone about you. But someone already knows. That is, he doesn’t know your name or who you are. But the reason I was in your apartment was that I’m on an undercover mission, posing as a freelance spy to infiltrate the organization of an arms dealer named Elson.”
Justin looked up, interested. “I know who that is. I broke up an arms deal he was trying to make with a terrorist group—Oh. Did he sic you on me?”
She nodded, then outlined her two missions: the real one, and the one Elson had sent her on. “And then he ordered me to murder you if I couldn’t recruit you.”
His eyebrows rose. “What did you say?”
“I made him double my salary.”
“In that case, you can buy me another pot of coffee.”
“I’ll buy you a cup,” she replied. “I didn’t make him triple it.”
Justin smiled, and the tension between them eased. His smile was so rare and bright, it was like a glimpse of sun on a cloudy day, turning everything to gold.
She noticed once again that his eyelashes were a bright coppery red, startling against his midnight eyes. “Did they call you Red because of your lashes?”
“Huh?” Then realization spread across his face. “No. I dye my hair. If I don’t, I draw too much attention. People actually turn to look at me when I go by.”
I bet they do anyway, she thought.
He picked up his mug and took a drink. “Thanks. This really is great. Or maybe I should thank Elson.”
She slid the pastry basket toward him. “To go with your murder-bon
us coffee.”
Justin took a lemon square, then passed her the basket. She helped herself to a cream puff. “Are all your assignments this glamorous?”
“I wish.” She ate the cream puff, thinking about what it would be like to not taste food for years. It went some way toward explaining why he was so thin, and why he didn’t seem to care if he didn’t eat for a week at a time. Even so, she didn’t understand why he didn’t try harder to keep himself in good shape, even if he didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the willpower or discipline to do so.
But she was sure that was one of the many things he didn’t want to talk about. So instead she asked, “Why did you break up Elson’s deal?”
“I was chasing a guy named Bianchi. He was middle management at Apex, but he’s an arms dealer now. While I was trying to close in on him, I ended up eavesdropping on a terrorist group that had been considering buying weapons from Bianchi, but Elson offered them a better deal. I couldn’t let those weapons get into the hands of terrorists. So I had to drop my original plan and break up the deal. I blew the weapons sky-high, and left an anonymous tip with MI-5 to collect a bunch of tied-up terrorists and illegal arms dealers.”
“And the million dollars?”
“I still have it. I put it in a safe deposit box under a fake name. I figured I could survive on some of it while I do my thing—I’m supposed to be dead, so I can’t access any of my own money—and whatever’s left over, I’ll give to charity. I don’t think it has a legitimate owner I could return it to.”
Now there’s a man with integrity, Fiona thought. Give him a million dollars of untraceable dirty money, and he takes what he absolutely needs to survive and gives away the rest.
As if I needed even more reasons why we can never be mates.
Justin frowned. “Fiona? Is something wrong?”
“No.” Before he could pursue it, she asked, “What happened to Bianchi?”
“I lost him. Apparently he heard about what happened with Elson’s deal, and it spooked him. I eventually figured out that he’d gone to New York, so I came here. But it looks like he’s in Venice now. He owns a house there, apparently.”
“Venice, California?”
“Venice, Italy. I was going to buy a ticket today.”
“Along with granola bars.” She remembered him calling himself a vigilante. “So what’s your big plan? Track down everyone who ever worked at Apex?”
“Yeah. But not just for revenge. The base Shane and I destroyed wasn’t their only one. They’ve got at least one more, but I don’t know where it is. I’m hoping Bianchi can lead me to it, or lead me to someone who can lead me to it. I want to destroy their entire operation, so they can never hurt anyone again.”
Justin’s voice rose commandingly, and his eyes blazed with passion. For all the damage that had been done to him, he was still the man who had parachuted into combat zones and single-handedly defeated a gang of terrorists and Mr. Elson’s thugs, simultaneously. If anyone could do it, he could.
“Want a partner?” Fiona asked.
“You’d team up with me?” Justin looked astonished, as if he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stay with him.
“If you want me to.” She tried to sound casual, as if she didn’t care if he did or not. But she thought, I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth.
That brilliant smile of his lit up his face. “Of course I do! I just—I didn’t realize you had it out for Apex too.”
I have it out for anyone who’d hurt you, she thought.
She said, “I blew up their base in the Sierra Nevadas.”
“Really? You, personally? I figured your team did.”
“I set the charges. Me, personally. With my own two hands.” She held them up for his inspection.
Justin looked at her solemnly, then took off an imaginary hat and made a very creditable bow from a sitting position. “I doff my hat to you. And also, I owe you a drink. Would you take a glass of Italian wine in Italy?”
“I will.” She thought quickly. “Elson expects me to be cozying up to you. So if we keep pretending to be a couple, that’s our cover for the trip, and it’s also our cover with Elson. We can kill two birds with one stone.”
“Sounds good.” He sprang up, suddenly filled with energy, and offered her his hand. “Shall we run away to Venice together?”
There was nothing she wanted more. But before she could take his hand, every reason the entire plan was a terrible idea popped into her mind.
She was going to be a triple agent in a deadly game of deceit, matching herself against two different international arms dealers, a powerful black ops agency, and whoever it was who’d shot at them the night before, all without the help or even knowledge of her team.
Her entire team would want to help Justin with his plan if they knew about it, but she’d promised not to say a word. In effect, she’d agreed to lie to all her friends. Shane was desperate to help Justin, but Fiona couldn’t even say she knew him. Would Shane forgive her if—when—he found out? Or would she destroy the best friendship she’d ever known with yet another lie?
Worst of all, she’d be alone with Justin in the most romantic city in the world, pretending to be a couple, and knowing all the while that they could never touch except to trick observers with a show of fake love. Fiona couldn’t imagine anything more excruciating.
Justin was still standing there, brimming with excitement and hope. He’d gone through so much. She couldn’t take that away from him.
Not only that, but she had to stay with him to protect him. He was dead-set on taking on Apex, and if they parted ways, he’d do it all by himself. No one person, no matter how tough, would have a chance. He’d saved her life twice over. She couldn’t let him throw his away.
He is your mate, hissed her snow leopard. You cannot walk away from your mate.
Her leopard was right, in a way. When it came down to it, Fiona couldn’t bring herself to leave him. No matter how much it hurt.
She took his hand. Like the very first time they’d touched, when he’d slipped her a gun under the watchful gaze of six hit men, a jolt went through her body.
What is that? Fiona asked.
The mate bond, her snow leopard purred. Trying to make you stop denying it and connect.
Justin’s snow leopard apparently told him something similar. With a gentleness that stung more than a slap in the face, he said, “Believe me, if I could be your mate, I would. I just can’t.”
Fiona felt like she’d lose her mind if she heard him say that one more time. “Let’s get this straight. You’re not the only one making that call. I am too. So you can stop saying that.”
“You don’t want to be my mate?” Now he sounded hurt.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t.” She replayed her words in her mind, realized they were identical to what he’d said earlier, and hurriedly said, “Sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you. It looks we’re in the same boat here. If we were different people with different lives, we’d get together and it would be great. But we’re the people we are, with the lives we have. And it’s not happening.”
He nodded sharply. “Hey, we’re both adults. So we’re attracted to each other. So our leopards keep telling us to go for it. So what? We’ve agreed that we’re not going to, so we won’t.”
“Right,” Fiona replied, keeping her voice calm and cool. “We won’t.”
It wasn’t until she turned away to start packing that she realized that neither of them had released the other’s hand.
All the choices that gave me the life with no room for a mate, I made years ago, she thought. And now it’s too late. The time-reversal device was just a joke.
She let go.
Chapter Four
Justin
Justin looked around warily as they left the Ritz. Neither he nor Fiona had any idea who had shot at them the night before, nor if the attempted killers had tracked them. He walked beside her with all his senses extended, read
y to shield her if he caught the slightest hint of danger. But all was peaceful as they hailed a cab to the airport, nor did they have any trouble buying tickets for the next departing flight to Venice.
He had to admit, posing a couple made that request much more plausible. Especially the way Fiona giggled girlishly and hung on his arm. The clerk even winked at them. Justin forced a smile. Half of him wished he hadn’t agreed to that particular cover story—he knew perfectly well that it was frustrating Fiona, not to mention that it was torturing him—and half of him was guiltily glad of the opportunity to touch her at all.
You can touch her all you like, hissed his snow leopard. You idiot.
Justin ignored the big cat. But he kept his arm around her slim waist as they strolled around the airport. He bought a toothbrush and other travelling supplies, and she bought a cheap disposable phone to replace the one she’d lost at the warehouse.
“And a new purse?” he asked.
She glanced at a display of designer purses, then shook her head. “I’ll get one in Venice. A wallet too. It’s Italy, they’ll be nicer there than anything I could buy in an airport.”
“Have you been there before?”
“I’ve been to Rome. Not Venice. I’ve always meant to go, but I never got around to it. What about you?”
“I’ve never travelled anywhere outside of the US.” As soon as he said it, he realized how completely wrong that was. He’d not only spent quite a lot of time in Afghanistan, he’d just come back from England. But it wasn’t as if he’d been able to see the sights in either country. “I mean, not for fun.”
She seemed to understand what he meant, which was good because he couldn’t explain in public. His cover identity, Andrew Wright, was the head of HR for a car wash chain, and had never served in the military. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she remarked, “Those business trips keep you shut up in offices the whole time. You might as well have never left America.”
“Eight hours a day in air-conditioned offices that all look the same,” he replied, keeping a straight face. “Endless power point presentations about integrated software platforms. Sometimes I really wonder if I’m on the right career path.”