Dead Heat (Taz Bell Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  "As we understand it, explosives would kill too many innocent people so they won't use that means of attack," Allison answered. "Personally, I'm of the opinion that they don't use explosives because that kind of thing produces bad press. They consider themselves the Chosen of God and don't want anything to blur that particular picture."

  "What kind of research is Dr. Boughton doing that he has the fanatics after him?" I asked. "It doesn't really matter where the job is concerned, but I'm curious. Doing gene research doesn't usually produce the kill reaction in the religiously unstable."

  "To tell the truth, I don't know what Dr. Boughton is doing that's gotten the crazies after him," Allison admitted without the least hesitation. "The only thing I made sure of was that he isn't into germ warfare or anything of that sort, and he isn't. He doesn't work for the government and his work isn't considered classified, so your guess about why they're after him is as good as mine."

  "It's possible we'll find out when we meet the man," Eric said. "When, exactly, does the job start?"

  "There's a reception tonight for those guests of the conference who have already arrived," Allison told us, looking around as she spoke. "It's just a matter of some talking, some dancing, and snack or drink trays circulating through the crowd. We'll have you served dinner here in your suite, and then we'll get you and Ms. Bell all decked out for the occasion. We made the assumption that you don't travel around with formal clothes as part of your wardrobe. Were we wrong?"

  "Actually, no," I admitted, relieved that it wouldn't be necessary to break the bad news to her. "Does that mean I don't have to rush out to a store to make a few emergency purchases?"

  "It certainly does," she answered with a small laugh. "We've already made the purchases, all of it based on what we saw during the press conference, so the sizes ought to be dead on for you, Ms. Bell. All we need to be completely prepared is Mr. Wellman's measurements for his formal attire."

  "Actually, you don't," Eric said, almost echoing me. "It so happens I've needed to do black tie before now, so I have my own tux. That should make your part of the job a little easier."

  "It certainly does," Allison said, almost grinning as she deliberately repeated herself. "And I have the feeling that all of you will be making my job easier… And that, I think, is the coffee you ordered."

  The last was said to Freemont, who hadn't left his chair until the knock came at the door. It wasn't that he hadn't known the knock was coming, it was probably only his attempt not to spook Allison. She'd looked the least bit disturbed when he'd done his thing a couple of minutes ago, talking about facts only his talent could have supplied. The woman had obviously tried not to let her disturbance show, but if I knew about it then Freemont certainly did.

  A waiter brought in a cart with coffee service for four, and once he was gone we all got to fill up cups. Allison joined us with what seemed like no hesitation at all, but I could sense some kind of strain in her while she sipped and chatted. I didn't know if the strain came from being in the same room with us or from thinking about that reception we'd be attending, but whichever it was I knew damned well that she'd finish her coffee fast and then leave.

  And once she was gone I'd be able to have that talk with Eric I'd promised myself…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Allison French stayed about twenty minutes, long enough to finish her cup of coffee, and then she told us she'd see us later before walking out the door.

  "I'm sure I don't have to tell any of you that she was nervous about being with us," Freemont said as soon as Allison's footsteps faded away up the hall. "At first I thought she was nervous about us, but that's only part of the story. She's the one who recommended hiring us, so she's worried about how well we'll do with the assignment. And she gets the chills when she looks at me. She's never known anyone with psychic ability before, and half of her wants to call me a fraud. The other half wanted her to escape while she still could."

  "But she didn't run and she didn't show what she was feeling, so we don't really have what to complain about," George said. "She also didn't try to ignore me, and now I'm wondering if that's a Southern thing. Being polite to everyone even if they give you the chills, I mean."

  "From what I've seen, most people are polite in the South," Eric put in. "I'm not really used to being treated like an actual human being instead of an annoyance, the way they do it up North. The bad manners that used to be only in New York seem to be spreading all over."

  "You sound like you're from the North too, Eric," George said. "What area do you come from?"

  "Not as 'North' as New York, but Chicago is getting there," Eric answered with a wry smile. "I thought it was a tough town until I was forced to spend some time in your old stamping grounds. I saw someone collapse in the middle of a sidewalk, and all anyone did was call the cops. Not a single person stopped to help."

  "'Don't get involved' has become a way of life in the city," George said, the look in his eyes sad. "I never realized how bad the practice was until we began to move around in other areas where people behaved differently. No one in the city seems to want to understand that if they're not willing to give help, they won't get help if they happen to need it."

  "They're afraid," Freemont said as he stood up, his own expression just as sad. "They're afraid they might end up helping the wrong person, or even of being offered help by someone dangerous or … odd. If they act as if they're alone in the world, there's much less risk. And I think I'll take a bath now. It would be a shame not to take advantage of having my own bathroom."

  We all chuckled at the delighted expression that had replaced the sadness on Freemont's face. The only thing that had limited our partner's bath-taking until now was the fact that he hadn't wanted to hog the facilities too much when others had to use them. Now that he had a bathroom all to himself, we might never see him unless he had some specific information for us.

  "I think I'll go and take a look around at this place," George said once Freemont had disappeared into his room. "I like to know where the exits are - and who might be using them. I'll see you two later."

  Instead of walking off, George just disappeared from sight. I was used to his doing that, but Eric blinked in surprise.

  "You know, that startled me," Eric admitted after a moment. "I'm so used to seeing George move the way the rest of us do that I guess I forgot he's a ghost."

  "Yes, George does tend to limit himself when he's with the rest of us," I agreed, deciding I'd found the perfect time to start that discussion with Eric I'd promised myself. "And speaking about limiting, I'd like to ask you to do some of it. I know why you didn't want to go into the real reason you left the task force, but you should have made up a different story than the one you did. I felt like I was being made the butt of a joke and I don't enjoy feeling like that."

  "The butt of a joke," he echoed, staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You sound as if you don't know I was telling the truth, in a roundabout way. How can you pretend you don't know?"

  "Don't know what?" I demanded, suddenly more angry than annoyed. "What in hell are you talking about?"

  "Taz, during the press conference I relaxed my control for a minute and got a shock," he said, still looking at me in that weird way. "I was trying to see if there were any other shapeshifters in the audience, something I was trained to do, but the only one I was able to pick up was you. When I shouldn't have been able to reach you. You can't claim you don't know we've linked, not when you looked straight at me at the time. It's done and there's nothing either of us can do about it."

  "I still don't know what you're talking about," I said, the chills suddenly rising to add itself to the anger. "I've never heard of 'linking,' so what are you trying to pull?"

  "Why do I get the feeling that you know almost nothing about your life condition?" he demanded in turn, a touch of exasperation sharpening his tone. "When I first woke up in the hospital after surviving the attack, all I wanted to do was deny what had happened.
That attitude lasted until I found my attacker and killed him, but then I had to face the fact that his life might be over but mine wasn't. I was something I'd never wanted to be, but refusing to find out about the condition wasn't going to change me back. Didn't you do the same?"

  I looked away from his invasive stare, feeling as if I had something to apologize for when I really didn't.

  "Different people react in different ways," I said, throwing in a small shrug. "And I've been on the move almost constantly since it happened, so I haven't had the chance to do much in the way of research. Besides, once you accept the fact that you're not going to change back, there isn't a whole lot more that's important."

  "Taz, the only thing you've done was leave yourself open to being blind-sided," he said, and I could hear the sigh behind his words. "I happen to like the idea of being linked to you, but you don't even know it's happened. And you can't protect yourself from something you don't know about even if you want to."

  There was nothing in his voice that could have been taken as a warning, but the next minute I gasped as my full attention was dragged back to him. He'd done something like what had happened during the press conference, only this time he and I were no more than a few feet apart.

  And I could see him clearly where he sat on the couch, but clearly didn't tell half the story. His longish blond hair reached to his shoulders and made a backdrop for his incredibly handsome face. Those light gray eyes were staring straight at me, and I could have sworn there was something in them that tried to pull me out of the chair and over to him. His broad-shouldered body was relaxed, but there was a pull from that part of him, too, maybe even a stronger pull than from his eyes. I wanted to get up and go to him then start to rub myself against him. It would have been wonderful, marvelous, the best thing to do for the growing demand developing between my legs -

  And then, just as suddenly as the feeling had started, it stopped dead. My hands were on the arms of my chair, just about to raise me to my feet. But instead of getting up I sagged back against the chair, shaken worse than I could ever remember being.

  "That's what you're trying to pretend doesn't exist," Eric said, and there was the least amount of strain in his voice in spite of the way he still sprawled on the couch. "If I didn't have a rule against taking unwilling females, I could have you at my feet begging for my attention. And since this could have happened with any other shapeshifter you came in contact with, I don't think I have to go into details about what you could have found yourself in the middle of."

  My first urge was to get up and run, pure terror causing the feeling. My body still felt an echo of the throb that had almost grown to a screaming need, and my heart thundered in my chest as if it had expanded to twice the size it was normally. I swallowed from a dry mouth, frantically clutching at the strings of control that would put me back in charge of my mind, and finally put a shaking hand to my head.

  "What was that?" I whispered, wishing I could pick up the cup holding what was left of my coffee. But my hands were shaking so badly that I'd never get to drink what was still in the cup. "What did you do?"

  "I used the link we somehow established between us," he answered, as if that told me what I wanted - needed - to know. "I'm not really clear about how the link came into being in the first place, but I suspect it happened because you were wide open and unprotected. As you may know from your own experiences, there are times my nonhuman half does things that my other half would never approve of. It would have happened before I taught you to close down, and as far as I know, once established the link can't be broken."

  "Then how do I protect myself from you?" I demanded, the roiling in my middle still there even if I wasn't whispering anymore. Roiling that was making me think about cold-blooded murder with no joking around. "People tend to change their minds, and if you change your mind about being a gentleman I really don't want to find out about it the hard way."

  "We'll just have to do some experimenting until we find someone to ask," he said, sitting up to run both hands through his hair. "I'll also try to track down my old mentor, the man who taught me what I know about shapeshifting… And I should mention that you're not the only one that reaction was a strain on. I only just managed to close down the link again, and my other half hates me for doing it. A female in heat is a male's … delight."

  A female in heat. If I'd hated what I was before now, those words doubled, tripled, and quadrupled the feeling. If you're used to being helpless in most situations, you have very little trouble handling the feeling in a new situation. But if you're used to not being helpless…

  "You can't back away from learning what you need to know," Eric stated, the words very flat as he stared at me. "I'm still trying to figure out how you managed to ignore what you must have learned from the visions of past lives. It's the way most of us learn - "

  He broke off while continuing to stare at me, and then he shook his head in a bewildered sort of way.

  "Your expression is telling me you've never experienced the visions, but that's not possible," he said, his stare beginning to be really annoying. "When we shift on the full moon and our other half takes over, those visions come through automatically once we've hunted and fed. The memory stays with you once you shift back to human form, so what did you do? Just ignore it all?"

  "I - had no interest in seeing the lives of other victims, so I didn't," I stated, fighting off the feeling that I was making excuses. "I may have to change into the shape of an animal, but I don't have to be that animal."

  "You don't let your other half take over when you shift?" he said rather than asked, making me really hate the way he kept staring. "How do you stop it? And why would you want to stop it? Don't you know that letting go at the full moon gives us more control of our reactions the rest of the time?"

  I didn't know any such thing, but just in case he was telling the truth I didn't say so out loud. I could have sworn that my expression didn't change, but he suddenly shook his head again.

  "You don't know anything at all about what you are, not the first little thing," he said with a sigh, finally giving up on the stare by using both hands to rub at his eyes. "When I forced my way onto your team I thought I might end up with almost nothing to do unless we came up against a large number of rogues. Now… Are you willing to learn what I have to teach, or am I kidding myself thinking you finally understand how bad a mistake you made?"

  "If my mistake was all that bad, I would have run into trouble before now," I said, knowing my tone was ice cold and hard as steel. "The point you seem to want me to overlook is that I was doing just fine until you came along. When I'm ready to take advantage of all that ancient wisdom you've accumulated I'll definitely let you know, but for right now we have a job that needs our attention. I'm going to look through the room service menu, and when I decide what I want to eat I'll pass the menu to you so you can make your choice. Or would you rather go first?"

  "No, I don't mind waiting," he said, but only the words were mild. His voice was very nearly a growl, and the look in those gray eyes showed how tight a hold he had on his temper. As if he had something to be angry about, when I still didn't know if he'd come to the team on his own or had been sent.

  So I got up and took the menu from its place next to the phone and carried it into the bedroom on the right, the one I'd chosen for my own. Closing the door gave me some privacy, something I needed very badly right now. Normally I would have gone to sit on the king-sized bed, but this bedroom actually had an upholstered chair for sitting purposes with a small table right next to it.

  I put the menu down on the table before leaning back and closing my eyes. It had just come to me that we had a perfectly good reason to ask Eric to leave the team, and I wanted to use that reason to get rid of him as fast as possible. There was no way for Eric to prove that he hadn't been assigned by the task force to join our team, and the suspicion alone was enough for me to insist that he go. The idea of leaving him behind brought a feeling of relief so i
ntense it was almost pain…

  "But I can't use the reason right now," I whispered, trying to explain to the terrified part of me why there would be a delay in feeling the rest of that relief. "We accepted this bodyguarding job, and he's an integral part of the plan. The team can't afford to walk away from something like this, otherwise people will stop sending for us."

  The deep-down scared part of me didn't want to hear that, but the rest of me understood the point even while I hated it. George, Freemont and I had worked hard to establish a reputation of dependability and expertise, which was why we'd been in place to collect that extra fifty thousand dollars for taking down the harpy. People had learned that when we took a job we did it, without excuses and without undue delays.

  So even if I could taste fear in my mouth like the time just before throwing up, I couldn't let that taste force me to run the way I so wanted to do. I had to ignore the fact that a virtual stranger had the power to turn me into a writhing female animal, intent on nothing but sex no matter what I had to do to get it. The idea wasn't just frightening it was also humiliating, a burning flaring torment that was worse than physical pain. It made me want to kill the one responsible for making me feel like that, preferably with my bare hands.

  Or with teeth and claws. The claws I had as a cougar were deadlier than the claws of a wolf, and I could almost feel myself flexing those claws into sight before I used them to shred Eric into ribbons. They would make his blood flow faster and faster, and when they went through his throat I would feel that relief I needed so badly. It would be absolutely -

  Everything froze for an instant while I slowly opened my eyes, and then shock hit me like a runaway truck. Instead of fingernails at the end of my fingers there were cougar-like claws, the very claws I'd just been fantasizing about. The breath caught in my throat as I stared at my hands, and fear flared so high that my heart almost stopped beating. It couldn't be, it couldn't be, I didn't want it to be…!