Slate (Shifters Elite Book 2)

by Ava Benton

  “I’m just sayin’…”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not all as unprofessional as you were,” I muttered.

  “Watch it.” He wasn’t joking anymore.

  “Just sayin’.”

  “All right, all right. Be a bitch about it. Whatever. I was calling to let you know that Mary’s working on getting you a pass for the Magic Kingdom while Maggie’s working. You absolutely have to keep your distance and make sure nobody knows you’re security for her. She’s Snow White, not a real girl. You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Keep out of photos and all that.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  He chuckled. “I can just hear how thrilled you are about this.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  “You have another day to get through before they expect her back there, so don’t sweat it. Maybe by then, we’ll have a solid lead on the shifter we’re looking for. Mary’s team already wiped the records at the hospital, so that’s taken care of. We don’t need to worry about any of the hospital employees flapping their mouths.”

  “Good to know.”

  She would be glad to hear that, too.

  “And I’m calling Vincent after we end this call—I want to know who this spy of his is, and where he heard the story about the attack. I want to terminate this attacker as quick as possible. Who knows if he’s out there, stalking another girl right now?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I was too busy worried about Maggie alone. It would haunt me if we let him get away with attacking another girl—and maybe not stop next time.

  “Good point. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do. And, uh, enjoy your suite.” He was grinning again, I could hear it in his voice.

  I threw the phone onto the bed with a growl. How was he so damn good at pushing my buttons?

  10

  Maggie

  “I can’t believe I have to do this,” he muttered.

  I could hear Slate loud and clear in the earpiece Roan had insisted I wear. Like he wouldn’t already be watching me closely from a short distance away—just not as short a distance as they would’ve liked.

  Ramona was sort of firm on that point when she saw how enormous Slate was.

  “No way he’s going to blend in,” she had said, shaking her head. “No way. We have to keep him at a distance.” She had looked him up and down, folding her arms, tilting her head. “How good are you at hiding behind things?”

  He’d actually smiled. “You would be surprised. I’m great at blending in.”

  “I doubt it, but okay.” She’d looked at me with a gleeful smirk. “Maybe we should’ve dressed him up as Gaston, let you hang around that area. He would be perfect for it.”

  I grinned to myself when I imagined it, as I walked through the underground tunnels and up to ground level.

  I could just imagine him pretending to be a real-life cartoon character. Having to smile for pictures.

  My grin widened.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Fine. Just another day in paradise,” I murmured.

  “If you’re not up to this…”

  “I’ll be just fine,” I assured him, and I did everything I could to keep all traces of sarcasm out of my voice.

  He was already worried enough about me. I needed him to keep a distance, just like he had agreed to.

  If I let him know how hard my heart pounded, how my palms kept getting sweaty and slick, he wouldn’t give me room to breathe. It had been bad enough being alone with him in the suite the day before.

  Not bad. Bad was the wrong word, I reflected as I got ready for the opening of the park.

  I smiled at my coworkers and hoped the makeup I had caked onto my throat and jaw would be enough to cover up the bruising. Ramona seemed to think it was—I had finally come clean with her. There hadn’t been any choice. She needed to know why Slate was watching me.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” she had asked.

  “Lots of reasons. Shame. Fear.”

  “You don’t have to be ashamed—and I don’t think anybody in their right mind would be afraid with a hulking thing like him keeping an eye on them,” she’d grinned.

  And she was right. If anything, being back at work was a big help. I could let myself disappear into a character for a while.

  So the day started, and I smiled and danced and waved—all the while, knowing he was watching.

  I could feel his eyes on me, even though I couldn’t see him in the crowd.

  He really was good at blending in.

  Eight hours later, he met me at the employee entrance to the parking lot.

  I had to laugh when I saw the look on his face—a cross between a grimace and a smile.

  “So? What did you think?” I did a little spin for him, then bowed.

  He applauded.

  “I think you’re a tough chick,” he said.

  “Oh? This coming from a guy who looks like he swallowed bowling balls.” I pointed to his pecs, which were outrageously developed.

  “There are different kinds of tough,” he said as we walked to the SUV. “I mean, how do you do it when it’s a hundred degrees with a thousand percent humidity? In that costume? With the wig?”

  “On my feet all the time… dancing…” I added.

  “Yeah, that too. How do you do it?”

  “You acclimate yourself. That’s all. I’ve lived down here all my life, so it’s not a big deal to me.”

  “I just don’t get it. I give you a shit ton of credit.”

  “Thanks—and I give you credit for not being obvious out there. I didn’t even know you were watching.”

  “I have my ways.”

  I smiled as I climbed into the car and he shut the door behind me.

  The truth was, I had no idea how I would’ve made it through the day if he hadn’t been there. Every man who walked too close, every scream—and God knew there were plenty of screams coming from all directions, approximately once every minute. It had all set my nerves on edge.

  But he was there, and it was all okay.

  I could keep smiling and hugging the kids and doing the job I loved to do. I was still smiling to myself when my eyes moved across the parking lot.

  And I saw him.

  My eyes went wide. My body went rigid.

  I knew it was him—I didn’t know how, but I did. He was maybe ten rows away, standing between two cars, and his eyes were focused on the SUV.

  Slate was talking about something when he climbed in.

  I couldn’t hear him. I didn’t even look in his direction.

  He finally noticed. “What is it?”

  “He’s here.” I nodded just slightly in his direction. I couldn’t do any more than that.

  Slate was out of the car in a flash. “Lock the doors!” he barked before slamming his closed.

  I did what he asked with shaking hands and watched in horror as he sprinted toward my attacker. My heart was in my throat. I could hardly breathe.

  And he didn’t run away. That was the crazy part. The attacker—another big, hulking guy, wearing a long jacket and what looked like cargo pants—ran toward Slate.

  I realized he was smiling.

  He has to be crazy.

  That smile snapped me out of my shock.

  “Slate! No!” I screamed, clutching the dashboard.

  What did he think he was doing, running after a man like that? When he knew he was a shifter and could change into whatever it was he changed into. I remembered the claws, the blood-red eyes.

  Their bodies seemed to collide in mid-air, and Slate took the shifter by his lapels and threw him against a bus.

  Windows shattered, and I watched in shock as the shifter leapt like nothing had happened to him at all. Meanwhile, there was a visible dent in the metal.

  He threw himself at Slate, and they grappled, almost seeming to snarl at each other.

  I couldn’t see v
ery well from where I was, so I had to be imagining the way Slate’s teeth seemed to get longer as he screamed in the shifter’s face.

  Was he nuts? Why would he do that?

  I slammed my palms against the dash, screaming and crying out and wishing I could help him. I had never felt so helpless, even when I was the one on the ground with the shifter on top of me. Because I was watching it happen to somebody else.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  Slate’s head snapped around in the direction of the security guard who came on the run—and it was just enough for the shifter to have the chance to slash Slate with his claws.

  I thought I would faint when I saw blood pouring down his chest.

  The shifter ran away then, leaving Slate bleeding.

  I jumped from the car and ran to him. “Slate! What were you thinking?”

  “What’s happening here?” The security guard, one I recognized, jogged in our direction.

  “A personal grudge,” Slate winced, waving him off. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re bleeding!”

  “I know, but trust me. It’s very shallow—I had medic training in the Army. I’ll take myself to the hospital.”

  “I’ll drive you,” I insisted, taking his arm and pulling him toward the SUV.

  The guard didn’t want to let us go, I could tell, but there wasn’t much he could do.

  Slate pressed his hands to his chest.

  I looked away. I couldn’t stand the sight.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I hissed. “Going after a maniac like that, when you don’t even have a weapon on you. Are you nuts?”

  “He wouldn’t have let us drive away like nothing was the matter,” he said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “How can you? Are you psychic?” We got to the SUV, and I held out my hand for the keys.

  “I’m not giving you the keys,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” I folded my arms across my midsection. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig, and you expect me to let you drive? What happens if you get woozy?”

  “I won’t get woozy.”

  “You’re a doctor now?”

  “Listen.” His voice was as sharp as the claws which had torn into him. I snapped to attention. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I’m fine. That’s all I’m telling you right now. Get in the goddamned car and I’ll drive us back to the hotel.”

  I blinked. “What if I say no?”

  “What if I leave your ass here to deal with that bastard when he comes back?”

  We glared at each other for what felt like a very long time.

  I didn’t breathe even once while our eyes were locked like that. I didn’t have a choice—he would never back down.

  “Fine.” I walked around to the passenger door and hauled myself up into the car, slamming the door behind me.

  “Try not to break the car. It’s a rental.” He eased himself behind the wheel with a faint grimace.

  “Oh, but getting blood all over it is fine.”

  “Blood, we can deal with.” He started the car and pulled out of the lot, not saying a word as he drove us to the hotel.

  I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t help glancing at him again and again. I wanted to be sure he stayed conscious.

  Who could lose that much blood and stay conscious? Much less drive a car?

  He didn’t seem to have an issue, which boggled my mind.

  I remembered the way it had looked like his teeth extended when he fought the shifter. I would never forget the way he threw the shifter into the side of the bus so hard, his body made a dent.

  A sick certainty started washing over me. His size. He was so, so big. And strong enough to fight his way through an attack that left his chest in shreds. He didn’t even seem to feel it anymore. I swallowed what felt like sawdust as best as I could so that I could talk.

  “You’re a shifter, too. Aren’t you? You and your brother and cousins. That’s why you fought that guy back there.”

  He was quiet for a while, which told me I was right.

  If I were off-base, he would’ve told me so. I pressed my hands together between my knees, squeezing them as hard as I could.

  He was a shifter, too. He was one of them. I was in the car with an animal.

  “We’re not all like him. There’s something wrong with him,” Slate muttered. “He’s sick. I saw it in his eyes. He’s got some sort of illness—that’s the only reason he would show himself again, in broad daylight. Why he would come at me the way he did.”

  My head spun.

  A shifter.

  I was in the car with a shifter. I had seen what he could do, throwing that huge man around like he was a rag doll. What would he do to me if he had the chance?

  “So how do you explain the way you ran at him?” I murmured as I stared straight ahead.

  He fell silent again, and that silence unwound between us.

  Finally, as we pulled into the hotels’ underground parking lot, he murmured, “I have my reasons.”

  11

  Slate

  It didn’t even hurt anymore by the time we were halfway to the hotel. By the time I parked the car, the blood had completely stopped flowing. The wounds were still open, however, and they stung a little as I climbed down from the driver’s seat.

  “How do you plan to sneak up to the suite when you look like that?” she asked, and she had a point.

  I tried to ignore the fact that she didn’t look at me when she spoke.

  “There’s a travel bag in the back,” I explained. “We always keep an extra change of clothes in whatever car we’re driving. Just in case.”

  “Of course. The sort of work you do…” She trailed off, still looking away.

  I was slow and careful as I pulled the ruined shirt over my head. “I don’t get into fights with sick shifters every day of the week, if that’s what you’re saying. But it’s good to be prepared.”

  I looked down at my chest. He got me good. At least it was his claws and not his teeth—who knew what he was carrying.

  Another ten seconds and I was wearing a new, dark shirt which hid the slashes. “Come on,” I said, touching her arm.

  My heart sank when she flinched.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth when we first met?” she asked.

  “You’re really asking me that, when you won’t look at me? Why do you think? How could I expect you to agree to let me protect you from that maniac if you knew I was like him?” I kept my voice low, looking back and forth to be sure nobody was in earshot.

  “You should’ve told me. I don’t like feeling like a fool, like somebody was tricking me.”

  “I wasn’t trying to trick you.” I touched her arm again.

  When she moved away, I almost roared in rage. I had put my fucking life on the line for the girl, and she wouldn’t let me touch her.

  “I’ve never forced a woman to look at me before, and those bruises on your back are the only thing keeping me from pushing you up against the car and yelling in your face.”

  She turned, defiant, just like I knew she would. “Just try yelling in my face,” she hissed.

  “The most important thing in all this—my entire mission—is keeping you safe. That’s it. If it meant I had to keep from telling you the truth about who we are, just to get you to trust me, so be it. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but some things are more important than feelings.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m five years old and my feelings got hurt, buddy. That’s not where I’m coming from here, but it’s part of it. The rest of it is wishing you had been honest. That’s all.”

  “And what would you have done? Huh? Invite me in? Agree to stay in a hotel suite with me so I could be sure you were safe?”

  Her laugh was sharp, nasty. “You’re not here for me. You’re here to keep me quiet. Don’t pretend this has anything to do with my safety.”

  I took on
e step toward her, making her back up against the car.

  She pressed herself to it, eyes wide.

  I could see her pulse jump to life under the smooth, delicate skin of her throat.

  Guilt stabbed my heart. I was doing what he did, cornering her, making her feel like a victim. I realized my fists were clenched, too—not that I would ever hurt her, but she didn’t know that.

  I took a step back again and made sure to keep my voice low. “Do you think I would’ve done what I did back there if this was all about money from a client? Keeping you quiet? Do you really, after you watched what happened?”

  She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. It snapped shut. Her eyes dropped to my chest and stayed there.

  “Come on. We need to get up to the room so I can tell the guys about this.”

  When I backed away, she followed me.

  “You took a big chance,” Roan growled as he paced back and forth in front of the double doors which led out to the balcony.

  Maggie was out there, leaning back in a lounge chair. The girl wasn’t trying to get sun. She flat out didn’t want to be in a room with the four of us, but didn’t know how to say it. She was probably too afraid to say it.

  “Yeah, I know. Believe me.”

  The benefit of being a shifter—fast healing. The drawback, we felt it. I could feel the muscle and skin knitting back together under my shirt, and it wasn’t pleasant. It was a good reminder of what a stupid move that could’ve been.

  “What made you do it?” Carter asked from his seat by the bar. He poured me a Scotch and handed it over.

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Try,” Roan said.

  I tried to think back to that moment, to put myself in it. Why was my immediate instinct to throw myself at him, hurt him, make him regret ever coming hear her?

  “The way he was staring at the car. I sensed his rage. I could feel how certain he was that he couldn’t let it go. He wants her. And he won’t let her live when he gets to her.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Drew asked.

  I didn’t like how sarcastic he sounded, and I growled in his general direction.