Savage Betrayal: Savage, Book 2

by Shelli Stevens

  “She seems okay. I think she pushed it from her mind and tried to keep busy.” And I helped keep her distracted by going down on her until she was nearly crying.

  Last night his thoughts might’ve been partly occupied by Grace and the discussion about his past, but even still he’d always been alert to the possibility of another attack on her.

  Someone was out to intimidate Grace, no doubt about it.

  “Good. And look, whatever happens between you two, just remember that you don’t need to add your name to the list of people out to hurt her.”

  Darrius’s gut clenched at the alpha’s warning, because it was something he feared as well.

  “Masterson,” Larson turned his head to shout. “Get over here.”

  What the hell? Alarm raced through him. Surely Larson wasn’t about to give Grace a lecture on safe sex?

  It only took a moment before Grace had abandoned her desk and arrived next to Darrius and Larson.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  She didn’t look at him, Darrius noticed, but kept her gaze firmly on their alpha. She was all business at the office. But then that was who Grace was—a determined, career driven female shifter. Not to mention a fucking a goddess at giving head.

  Don’t go there.

  “I called you both here, because I wanted to let you know I sent SWAT out to Wesley Parker’s house this morning to execute a search warrant.”

  Grace’s eyes lit up and she took another step forward, gripping the wall between his desk and the agent’s on the other side. “Really? What did they find?”

  Larson glanced at her, his brows drawn together. “Lots of interesting stuff. Some being a piece of paper with Jocelyn Feloray’s name and number on it, lots of drugs, and a glass vial full of liquid and hypodermic needles.”

  Darrius grunted softly. “Let me guess. It wasn’t insulin?”

  “No, it doesn’t appear our POI was a diabetic,” Larson agreed with a hard smile.

  Grace tilted her head. “Wait a minute, you said ‘was’.”

  “Perceptive as always, Masterson.” Larson picked up a stapler from Darrius’s desk and began to take it apart. “Along with various items taken into evidence, we also found a deceased POI.”

  Now that certainly was a game changer. Darrius pursed his lips and absorbed the info, his mind spinning with the news.

  Grace looked equally shell-shocked. “Don’t tell me he died of carbon monoxide poisoning? It would be too much of a coincidence.”

  Larson tilted his head. “No. It looks like a drug overdose, actually.”

  Darrius nodded. That would’ve been his first guess. Their surveillance had indicated the guy was likely on something. “So you think the needles were for heroin?”

  “Maybe. Though we didn’t find any in the house. Which is why we’re having tests run on the vials we found right now.”

  Darrius slid a glance to Grace and saw her staring down the hall to where the P.I.A. lab was located. The way her hands were curled into balls and she shifted her weight, he knew where she’d be heading the first chance she got.

  “The body is being brought down to the shifter morgue on First Avenue for the required burning.” Larson’s attention shifted to Grace as well. “Would you feel comfortable viewing it, Masterson? Think there’s a possibility you’d recognize the scent of your attacker from last night if you saw him?”

  Agitation flashed across her face before she gave a slight shrug. “It was dark and they were masked. Plus it was clear they’d tried to hide their scent with bleach. I really doubt it.”

  “Sometimes instinct alone might tell you.” Larson stood up and set down the stapler. “But I’ll leave that up to you. Any loved ones of the deceased would’ve been notified by now, so he’ll probably be cremated by tomorrow morning. Let me know if you decide to go and we’ll take you down there.”

  Darrius didn’t miss the slight shiver that moved through her body, even if her expression remained neutral now.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about an autopsy?” Darrius asked.

  “Being done currently, but no reason to suspect it wasn’t an overdose.” Larson gave them a sharp nod and moved away. “Good work, guys. Stay in the office today unless I give you word otherwise.”

  “Will do.”

  “Of course,” Grace echoed.

  Their alpha strode off, leaving them alone.

  “I should get back to my desk.” Grace avoided his gaze as her fingers twisted together.

  “Any plans for lunch, Masterson? I was thinking we could walk down to the waterfront and grab—”

  “I have a few things I need to take care of around here.” She jerked her gaze back to him, and there was a warning there. Don’t mix business with pleasure.

  His brow quirked and irritation slid through him.

  “Really?”

  Going to lunch together or with any of the other agents had been common practice before. What had changed? Besides the fact she’d sucked his dick this morning.

  A flush stained her cheeks and she shook her head. “Yes, really.”

  “Just don’t head out on your own, Masterson. You know you’re a potential target at the moment.”

  “I know. I’ll be staying in.” Once again she glanced away, but not before he saw something flicker in her eyes that gave him pause.

  Son of a bitch, she was going to try and sneak out of here alone. He’d bet on it.

  “Good.” Instead of tipping his hand and letting on he knew she was feeding him bullshit, he just nodded. “Now that I think about it, I did mention to Donovan that we’d check out a new barbeque join in Pioneer Square.”

  “Enjoy that. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  He watched as she turned and walked away. The black slacks she wore couldn’t hide the enticing swish of her pretty little ass.

  Her saying no to lunch ran deeper than not wanting others at work to get suspicious. He sensed that.

  Which meant come lunchtime, he was going to be discreetly keeping tabs on her. The last thing he needed was Grace getting in any more trouble than she already was.

  Darrius slipped away from his desk shortly before twelve thirty and made his way to the security room.

  “Horton, how the hell are you?” He clapped hands with his friend working the room.

  Horton had been around longer than Hilliard at the agency and was close to retirement. His white hair was almost gone and his dark face wrinkled when he grinned. He might’ve been getting up there in years, but Horton had a sharp eye and did a fine job keeping tabs on the inside of the P.I.A.

  “How you doing, Hilliard?”

  “Not bad,” he murmured, his gaze sliding to the monitors on one side of the room. Monitors that showed every room in the building. “Do you mind if I hang out here during my lunch? Haven’t seen you for a bit and figured we could catch up.”

  “Hell, you know I don’t care. But looks like you’re more interested in keeping an eye on someone than catching up.”

  The older man never missed a thing, did he?

  “Well, I may be a little bit guilty as charged.” Darrius grabbed one of the black chairs and wheeled it around. He sat down on it backward, folding his arms across the back. “I’m just making sure a friend isn’t getting herself into trouble…”

  He trailed off as Grace left her desk and made her way through the building. Was she going to try and sneak out? If she did, he’d be on her tail. Or he’d have another agent do it, but no way was he letting her out without protection.

  “Agent Masterson, huh?” Horton made a murmur of interest. “She’s a pretty thing. You two an item?”

  An item. That was a quaint way of putting in.

  “We’re good friends,” he murmured vaguely.

  Grace glanced behind her as she made her way up to the floor where the P.I.A. held their lab. Hmm. Maybe she wasn’t trying to slip out of the building, but was going to see Sienna instead.

  Once inside the lab,
the two women appeared to get into a deep conversation. Grace slipped on a pair of latex gloves and then picked up a glass vial from the metal table.

  No doubt it was the same vial from the POI’s house.

  She held it up to the light, turned it this way and that, and then set it back down. She said something more to Sienna, who nodded, and then Grace slipped back out of the lab.

  Interesting. Maybe she was just getting details on what was in it?

  “Anything look suspicious?” Horton asked. “I see agents coming and going from that lab all day. Nothing strikes me as out of the ordinary.”

  Maybe not, but he and Grace were working on this as a team. If she suspected something, she’d better damn well share that intel.

  He watched her make her way from the lab and then pluck her cell phone from her purse. A moment later she’d dialed someone and was in a heated discussion.

  She paused in the hallway, shook her head fiercely and then snarled something into her phone before shoving it back into her purse.

  “Hmm. She looks a little feisty today,” Horton murmured. “I’ve gotta say, I wouldn’t have figured Agent Masterson for your type, buddy.”

  Him either. At least not when she’d first started at the agency. But things had changed in a way neither of them had seen coming.

  His trained gaze followed her on screen as she strode down the hall back toward their department.

  Good. She was going back to her desk and he wouldn’t have to worry about— Son of a bitch! She’d slipped out a side door as quickly as it took him to blink.

  “Shit, I need to go after her. I promise we’ll catch up for real, Horton. Drinks in the next couple weeks.” He didn’t wait for the other man to reply, but had already sprinted out of the room.

  He thundered down the staircase as he hoped to beat her out front. But then, maybe if he could catch up with her he could figure out what was so important that she’d blatantly disobey his order—not to mention their alpha’s—that she not be left alone.

  Hell, he knew she liked to prove she was independent, but this was taking it too far.

  Darrius shoved open one of the exit doors in the stairs and entered an alley. He jogged around front, knowing he’d probably be just steps behind her.

  Which is exactly where he wanted to be, he decided, as he spotted her a moment later.

  Grace moved through the downtown Seattle lunchtime crowds at a brisk pace. Almost inhumane if one knew how to recognize the signs, and he could spot a shifter a mile off.

  She took out several city blocks before making her way closer to the waterfront.

  When she turned into a sleek, tall condo building he slowed his pace and narrowed his eyes.

  Who was she visiting here?

  He waited a moment for her to disappear into an elevator, and then entered the building after her.

  Whoever Grace had snuck off to meet with, he sure as hell intended to find out.

  Just before the elevator doors opened, Grace’s phone began to ring.

  She plucked it from her purse and saw her sister’s name on the caller ID. Shit, she’d been trying to get ahold of Bree for so long, but couldn’t take the call right now.

  The doors slid open and she strode out. Coming at her from the left was the pretty college boy assistant.

  “Miss, if you could hold on—”

  “Not a chance.” Grace strode into the plush condo, her gaze searching for her target.

  Jocelyn Feloray stood from a desk near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her brows lifted in feigned surprise. She looked cool and unruffled with her dark hair pinned up and her body in a hugging but demure green dress.

  “Grace. How charming to see you so soon.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. I told you I was coming, Jocelyn.” Grace clenched her teeth, momentarily overcome by the savage hatred she had for this woman. “Someone attacked me last night. Care to explain?”

  Again, there was surprise in her gaze, but this time she didn’t delude herself into believing it was real.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you all right, my dear? You don’t appear hurt.”

  Grace flashed a granite smile. “Such touching concern. I heal fast—but then you know how that goes, right?”

  Fury flashed in the other woman’s eyes, then vanished. “I suppose it’s one perk you can claim to such a horrific curse.”

  “Being a shifter isn’t any more of a curse than being an ignorant, sadistic bitch.”

  “Such language.” Jocelyn made a tsking noise and went to pour herself a drink. “Can I offer you a drink, Agent Masterson?”

  “I’m not here to drink. And how about you outright answer my question. I’ve been attacked—twice now. I have a feeling you’re behind it.”

  Jocelyn swirled her glass of amber liquid and gave her a long stare. “Grace, that makes no sense. I don’t want you dead.”

  “You want me warned.”

  “What makes you so certain I’m behind this?”

  “Because I’m getting close to discovering things about Thom Wilson that maybe you wouldn’t want me or the P.I.A. to know.”

  Dark warning flickered in Jocelyn’s eyes. “Thom Wilson died at his own hand, my dear. And the P.I.A. isn’t capable of locating their own ass, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You’re so determined to take them down. To take down the entire shifter population.” Unable to look at the woman she’d once trusted, Grace turned and paced the room. Her unfocused gaze scanned over the opulent furniture and décor. “I don’t understand why you hate us so much.”

  “And you never will.” There was potent venom in Jocelyn’s voice, and a tinge of pain Grace knew she wasn’t supposed to hear.

  Thrown momentarily off balance, Grace changed tactics. “Well, here’s something you can share with me. What kind of drugs are you whipping up now?

  “Me personally? You know I don’t get my hands dirty with that kind of thing.”

  “No, of course you don’t. You sit in a multimillion-dollar condo maintaining a nice buzz while plotting how to fuck up people’s lives. Feloray Laboratories. What kind of drugs are they creating nowadays?”

  “Oh the usual stuff. Statins. Glucose reducers. Oh, we’re working on this fabulous pleasure enhancer… Why? Are you interested in that last one, Grace?”

  Heat stole into her face, and Grace fisted her hands so she wouldn’t pluck a book from the shelf in front of her and hurl it at the woman goading her.

  “Actually, no. I’m thinking about something injectable. Something you’d find in a vial.”

  The heavy silence had Grace turning slowly to again stare at the older woman. Her gaze was unreadable, but it lacked the antagonizing humor that had been there before.

  “Feloray Laboratories is behind the creation of many life-saving drugs,” she finally said coolly. “If you’d like information on them, I’m certain I can have our marketing department send you a brochure.”

  “I don’t want your brochure.” Grace strode forward, tension radiating through her body. “I’m going to warn you once. If you’re hiding something—if you’re in any way involved in the death of Thom Wilson, we will prove it.”

  “Grace, you really don’t want to go down this road with me. You were lucky to survive the experiments.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “No. Thanks to me you’re alive.

  Grace laughed humorlessly. “You know at one point I would’ve believed that, but that day has gone.”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I truly am.”

  “Go to hell.” Grace turned and walked away. “If I’m hurt, if any other shifters are hurt and I sense you’re behind it, I’m not going to be lenient.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” Jocelyn’s mocking laugh followed her out the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grace moved about the kitchen, plucking chicken breasts from the fridge and spices from the cupboard. Her gaze drifted
to her cell phone on the counter, but Aubree had yet to call back.

  Her sister hadn’t left a voicemail this afternoon and wasn’t answering her phone now. Where was she? Hopefully nothing serious was wrong.

  Casting a glance over at Darrius, she drew in an unsteady breath. Her hands trembled slightly and she hoped he was too busy too notice.

  Busy peeling potatoes over the sink, his back was to her and he’d been unusually quiet.

  Was he thinking about the same thing she was? That tonight had arrived, and that in less than an hour he would likely make good on his threat to try and break her headboard.

  Her knees went a little weak just thinking about it. She cast him another glance from beneath her lashes and then frowned.

  No. He didn’t really have the look of someone who was thinking about sex. In fact, he looked almost a little pissed off.

  He’d been silent and stoic from the moment she’d returned from the lunch break. Apparently he’d figured out she’d slipped out without an escort and wasn’t all that happy about it.

  She couldn’t fault him for that, but surely he’d had enough time to get over it.

  Massaging olive oil and garlic into the chicken, she cleared her throat. “Are you still angry with me?”

  When he didn’t reply right away, she glanced over at him and caught the slight hardening of his jaw. He tossed one peeled potato into a bowl and grabbed another, slicing the skin off with smooth, rapid strokes.

  “Should I be angry with you?”

  Yes. Maybe a little bit. Still, the terseness in his words had her swallowing against the lump of guilt in her throat.

  “I suppose you have every right to be. I know I said I wouldn’t go out alone—”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “But as you can see I’m fine.”

  There was no reply, and she went to preheat the oven. He was angry, and he had every right to be. But she couldn’t exactly have brought him along with her today.

  “Yes, you’re fine.” He gave a low, harsh laugh. “But I’m not, because I’m pretty damn confused right now.”