Checkmate

by Elyce de Reefe

  She took a hasty step back. A deep pink bloomed across his face. There was an awkward pause.

  “Well, I uh… better get going.” Jesse stepped back, pushing off the doorframe with his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Aster. Call if you need anything. And, uh… watch out for tripwires.”

  One of his rare, full smiles spread across his face, complete with dimples. He gave her a tiny chin lift and then turned and disappeared into the night.

  Wow. She gazed after him for a moment, not really sure what to think.

  She stepped back and locked the door, heading over to the fridge. She definitely needed a glass of cognac right now. She still couldn’t believe her brother had his own pack—

  There on the rug in front of the mini fridge lay one of the samples. Her first thought was, thank the Maiden it hadn’t broken. Her next was to scoop it up and rush back to the door. She flicked back the bolt and flung it open, but Jesse was gone.

  She pulled out her phone. She’d call him. He couldn’t have gotten far. And then she paused. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see him again quite so soon. She had no idea what that little scene in the doorway meant. Why hadn’t he reported finding her to Lucas? Her belly gave another little quiver. You know what that was about. You even used it to get your way.

  She felt uncomfortable acknowledging the fact. Because only if he was hopeful she would accept him would he defy his Alpha. And she… liked it.

  She puffed out a breath and closed the door again. After locking the deadbolt, she slid the chain across too. For some reason she was feeling oddly exposed. She tucked the vial back into the fridge and poured herself a glass of the brandy. Nothing made sense anymore.

  Settling back on the bed, she pulled her laptop onto her lap. Whoever this Dr. Evans was, he sure was careful with his records. There was nothing indicating who was supplying the samples, or what the purpose of the research was beyond the broadest of categories. Unless you could actually read the genetic manipulation notations—which she couldn’t—you would have no idea what he was working on. Four hours, and probably as many glasses of cognac later, she pushed the laptop away. She needed Dean for this. Sometimes she thought she was starting to untangle the genetic riddle, only to have it all muddle in her brain again.

  She sighed and leaned back against the headboard, her mind drifting back to how good Jesse’s lean form had looked in those worn, faded jeans of his. That golden scruff defining his jaw. His appealing masculine scent that she’d never noticed before, like oiled leather and sweet timothy hay. Why had she never noticed him before?

  Jesse was smart and smooth and sexy as sin. With that shoulder-length dirty blond hair, that killer half-smile and long, lean body— yeah, she could do worse. And let’s face it, he’s the best damn tracker I’ve ever seen. He definitely has the flash, but does he have the substance? True, he’s no—

  She cut off that line of thought. Was she really about to think Lore Master? She sighed and took a sip of cognac. It had to be the hormones making her think this way. The remnants of whatever crazy stuff they had in that vial.

  Jesse did have that unfortunate habit of calling her Princess. She made a face. Like so many of her pack. Jesse, at least, did it to her face. She took another sip.

  Dean never calls me Princess.

  Would you stop that? Of course he never called her Princess. She could barely get him to look at her. Pet names, no matter how unflattering, were beyond him. When we were pups, he used to call me Little Star. But that was a long time ago. Dean had never stopped seeing her as the skinny twelve-year-old girl who’d challenged him to a game of chess way back when.

  That memory made her smile. At sixteen, Dean had been an awkward, gangly teenager. But he’d also been serious and studious. One of the few People she thought might offer her a challenge. And he had, when most of the other kids his age wouldn’t give her the time of day.

  She sighed. She’d given up on Dean ages ago.

  Jesse, on the other hand… He hadn’t seen her as some scrawny kid. She’d noticed the way he watched her remove her boots the night before. And she liked the way his attention made her feel. He wasn’t intimidated by her, which was something she couldn’t say about most men. Except, of course, Dean. She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink, savoring its smoky, dark flavor. Cognac. The world’s best variety of brandy.

  Yes. Dean was out. But maybe it was time to start seriously considering other candidates. She reached over to set the glass down on the nightstand. Whoops. Almost missed the table.

  If I were mated, Marten would be S.O.L. She chuckled, imagining the look on his face when he discovered that. Oops. Too bad. So sad. She giggled, surprising herself. But she could just see his fierce scowl getting even fiercer. He’d be soooo mad. True, he’d still have Mont-Tremblant, but she could buy herself some time. Keep working on the records. Compare notes with Dean…

  Wait a minute! If Marten were mated—

  Aster sat up straight in the bed.

  “It’s meant to be administered orally.” Dean’s words floated through her mind.

  Ha! What would happen if Marten were to ingest it? Aster felt a malicious grin break out across her face.

  Pulling her laptop over, she had a sudden thought. There had been a notation in Dr. Evans’ calendar. She’d ignored it because— what did she care who Dr. Evans met with? But now that she thought about it…

  Aster sat back, letting out a long, slow breath. It couldn’t be. Could it? She checked the notation again. Tomorrow, at two o’clock.

  Meeting with M.S.

  There had to be dozens of people with the initials M.S. in the organization. No. Scratch that. There weren’t even dozens of people in the organization. Well, not in the division that Dr. Evans worked in. There were three different lab technicians that Aster had identified so far. One research specialist. Plus Dr. Evans. And the receptionist/office manager who ran the small office suite Dr. Evans used for business meetings, where most of the records were stored.

  And then there was Dr. Evans’ contact at Special-T Pharmaceuticals. Simon something. Aster thought of him as the money guy. The one who wrote the checks and funded the various temporary labs. And he was very creative, hiding the funding in a variety of unlikely places. It had taken Aster two months to untangle that thread. She still hadn’t found all of them. But none of those people had the initials M.S.

  That means nothing. It certainly didn’t mean those initials stood for Marten Shaleback. Aster pulled up the clone she’d made of Dr. Evan’s e-mails. Nothing. Hmmm. She took another sip of brandy, thinking.

  What about the receptionist’s e-mails? It took her a few minutes to access the files. But then she was in. Millie Griffin wasn’t big on cyber security. That much was obvious. She traced them back until she found—

  Bingo.

  Aster sat back. Maiden’s blood. It’s him. He has a meeting with the doctor tomorrow at two. It had been set up today, after last night’s debacle. She tapped her fingers on the keyboard and thought, a slow smile spreading across her face. She glanced toward the mini fridge. This batch of samples was based on female DNA, was it? What would happen if someone were to doctor a box of fancy chocolates? Say, add just a few drops of the serum to each one…

  She grinned, picturing Marten’s face when he fell into his own trap.

  She drummed her finger against the keypad. Now to choose just the right candidate. Aster took another sip of cognac, careful not to spill it. Plans swirled in her head. It had to be a human. Someone with very little dominance. So for humans, that would be someone low on the corporate ladder? Inspiration struck. The receptionist!

  Perfect.

  She tapped on her keyboard, pulling up the location of an all-night pharmacy. She’d get the fanciest box of chocolate they sold and have it messengered over first thing in the morning. With a nice little note for Ms. Griffin. From Marten. If the receptionist actually ate any of it before Marten arrived, and it really did create a mating sce
nt—

  This might even work! A warm feeling of satisfaction spread through her chest, imagining Marten’s impotent fury when he found himself caught in his own trap.

  Checkmate.

  Chapter 10

  The En Passant capture was introduced in the fifteenth century when pawns were first given the option of moving two squares for their opening move. Pawns using this option must use caution not to pass a piece that could have captured them if they had only moved one square, or they will be capture en passant (while they pass).

  — From the Journals of Aster Ardennes

  The annoying buzz of her cell phone woke Aster the next day. Her head ached with a dull throb. How much cognac had she drank last night? She groaned and rolled over, reaching for her cell. Her bleary eyes looked around the unfamiliar room before she remembered she’d checked into another hotel early this morning, right after messengering the chocolates—

  Aster sat bolt upright in bed. What time is it? Her cell bleeped again and she snatched it off the bedside table. “Mmumph?”

  “Aster? Are you okay? You never called in like you promised.”

  Shit! What the hell had she done?

  “Aster?”

  “Dean. Hi. Yes. I’m fine. I just… was up late. Sorry. I, um… have to run. I’m late for a meeting. I’ll call you later.” She clicked off the phone and dashed for the bathroom. The bedside clock said it was ten after one. Not good. The office was at least half an hour from this hotel, and she had to shower and pack and try to get over there before Marten arrived. Scratch that. There was no time to pack. Maybe she could swipe the chocolate before anyone ate any. If not—

  Okay, she really didn’t want to think about what she would do if she couldn’t get to it before some poor unsuspecting person…

  Maiden’s tears! I don’t even know if it’s safe to eat! Just because Dean said…

  Damn Dean anyway for putting the idea in her head.

  She jumped in the shower before it had a chance to warm up and began soaping with a vengeance. What had she been thinking? That poor woman. Even if it wasn’t dangerous to eat, how could she subject anyone to that crazy, bloodthirsty maniac? Marten, as a mate? Maiden’s blood. Not even a human deserved that. She’d been so focused on finding a way to make him pay, to make these last three months of skulking around mean something— three months of hiding, and hunting, and crappy motels. But she’d completely failed to consider the other person in this equation. Note to self: never plan strategy when drinking cognac. She rubbed shampoo into her hair, hoping the warm shower would ease the ache in her skull.

  Aster, you don’t know everything. You can’t just arrange everything to suit your needs. You have to consider how it affects everyone else. She gave a little shake of her head. Just look at what happened with Lucas— he ended up forming a whole new pack because of you.

  She hopped out of the shower and scrubbed herself briefly with a towel. She pulled on a bra and fresh underwear and grabbed a long-sleeved tee from her suitcase. It was one of her favorites, peach, with a feminine cut and satin ribbon around the neck. One of her go-to comfort shirts. Maybe it would help her feel a little better. Yanking it over her head, she made a little grimace. So far, no go.

  Hopping on one foot, she tried to get her jeans on as she searched for her shoes. Where had she left them last night? There they were, on the other side of the bed. She shoved her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her key card from the desk.

  Then she was out the door and running down the hall for the stairs. No time for the elevator. She’d picked the wrong time to upgrade from a motel to a hotel. Now she had to race through the parking lot to find her car, instead of having it right there in front of her room. She shook her head. She’d have to call and extend her stay from the car, or who knew what they would do with her things.

  And of course, traffic was murder. She tapped her fingers nervously on the steering wheel the whole ride into the city. Why hadn’t she just stayed in Albany? But no, she had to get cute and stay in one of the many suburbs half an hour outside of the city. So no one could find her. Aster ground her teeth. By the time she reached the office building and pulled into a parking spot, it was already quarter after two.

  Maybe Marten had been caught in the same traffic. Maybe no one had opened the chocolate. Maybe there had been a mix up with the messenger service and the package had never been delivered. Aster opened the door to the bland office building and took the elevator to suite 316. And there it was. S.P.T. Incorporated. The corporate office of one Dr. Evans. Such as it was.

  And damn. Marten was here already. She could smell him. She opened the door and peeked inside— and her heart nearly stopped.

  The receptionist, with light brown hair and soft round face, looked up from opening a box of chocolates. The box of chocolates— just as Aster opened the door. She was about to make a lunge for them when the door to the conference room opened and a woman in a charcoal grey pencil skirt and four-inch heels stepped out. She wore her dark hair in a French twist and had on a pair of black-framed smart-girl glasses. Aster paused. There was something about her…

  The woman walked over to the receptionist and handed her a file.

  “Millie, can you make a copy of this, please? Oh, what do have you there, chocolates?”

  The receptionist held out the box. As the woman reached out to take a piece, Aster made a noise of dismay and rushed into the room. Through the glass wall of the conference room, she saw a man’s head come up. Marten’s eyes met hers through the glass. He was on his feet in an instant. Panic hit her in the belly like an icy blast of water. Aster turned on her heel and ran.

  ** *

  Dean glanced around as he approached the front porch of the little two-bedroom house Cray shared with Elizabeth. Blocked from view of the main house by a stand of evergreens, the cute little cottage was set on a small hill and boasted a view of the river. He brushed the hair out of his face and knocked on the door. Cray opened it, took one look at his face, and stepped outside.

  “What’s wrong?” he said in a hushed voice, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “I just spoke to Aster.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “She’s in Albany. Jesse found her yesterday. I don’t think he’s told Lucas yet.”

  “You think?” Cray scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesse is going to be in some deep shit.”

  “She refused to come back. She doesn’t want to draw danger here to the pack. Which…” Dean sighed and leaned against the porch railing. “I have to admit, that could be a problem. Lucas is not prepared to defend against Marten and his loners. There are a lot of them.”

  Dean glanced out at the water. There was a little bend in the river here, and sunlight danced along the current where it flowed over a few scattered rocks. It was a pretty sight, but today it failed to soothe him the way it usually did. He hoped like hell he was overreacting, but…

  Turning back to Cray, he said the rest. “Jesse brought me some more samples. Samples he and Aster collected together, apparently. I’ve been going over them. They are a slightly more developed version of the fertility treatment they’ve been working on. I really should be working on the other batch—the ones pertaining to the Sickness.”

  He trailed off, feeling miserable. “I think she and Jesse were exposed to this fertility stuff. It’s based on the female mating scent.”

  Cray whistled. “I didn’t see that coming.” He shook his head. “Jesse and Aster? But then, why wouldn’t he stay with her?”

  “He dropped off the samples this morning. I’m afraid to go see if he’s still here. But something’s wrong, Cray. Aster promised she would check in with me every day at noon. And she didn’t. So I called her, and… she didn’t sound right.”

  “So you’re going after her.”

  No need to say why. Cray knew. Cray knew the whole pathetic, heartbreaking story.

  “I think I have to. She wasn’t herself— she sounded panick
ed. Aster doesn’t do panicked.”

  Cray regarded him thoughtfully. “I think you should. I think it’s about time you did.”

  Dean sighed and nodded in acknowledgement. He might end up getting his heart ripped out again, especially if Jesse was there ahead of him. He should be working on his research. The People needed a cure for the Sickness. But he needed to know Aster was safe. So really, there was no choice.

  “I leave it up to you— what you tell Lucas, and when. I’ll check in when I can. And um…” he hated asking this. Hated how pathetic it was that he needed to know, but… “If you see Jesse, could you text me?”

  “Sure thing, man.” Cray clapped him on the shoulder. “Go and get her. It’s only been six days since the new moon.”

  Dean gave his friend a grim nod. He turned and headed for his Jeep. Glancing back, he saw Cray was still watching from the porch. He raised his hand in salute. Cray returned the gesture. It had an odd feeling of finality to it.

  Dean got in his car and drove. He’d already set the GPS to track Aster’s phone. Albany was at least a three-hour drive. If he kept to the speed limit, anyway. Something he had no intention of doing.

  ** *

  Millie looked up from the box of chocolates as the office door swung open. She suppressed a grimace and prepared to greet the newcomer. Of course someone would come in now. She’d resisted opening the box all morning and had finally succumbed to temptation. So naturally, someone had to walk in the door.

  The irony was that most days she had the entire office to herself. Which was her favorite thing about this job. She almost never had to talk to new people. Most of the time, it was just her, with Dr. Evans occasionally coming by. And when strangers did come, they were here to see Dr. Evans, and for the most part, ignored Millie. Which was just how she liked it.