Enforcer: Reckless Desires (Wolf Shifter Romance) (Alpha Protectors Book 4)

by Arran,Olivia

  It would have been beyond foolish to try and infiltrate the building in daylight, I knew that, he knew that, but neither of us liked the fact.

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go in there on your own,” Cole’s voice came through the tiny speaker, deep with frustration.

  “Not your call,” was my clipped answer.

  “He’s right. You should have—”

  I cut Greg off with a snarl. “Are you in yet?” I was watching the building from across the street, waiting for the signal.

  “Give me a couple more …” Greg’s voice trailed off as he hammered away at the keyboard, the line picking up the sharp clicks and carrying them to my ears.

  “Any sign of trouble and you retreat, damn you,” Cole instructed, his voice carrying the weight of an Alpha.

  Which was just fine and dandy, to borrow a favorite phrase from the British member of our team, Vin; however, I was an alpha too, which meant Cole’s dominance bullshit could take a running jump for all I cared. “A-okay.” Never going to happen. I wasn’t coming out of there unless I had Frankie in my arms.

  “And … we’re a go,” Greg’s deep voice announced.

  The security lights around the building flickered, then blinked off. It wasn’t how I had planned it—they’d know someone was coming—but I didn’t have another option. At least this way they’d be blind.

  “Going silent,” I murmured, darting across the road. I tapped the small speaker in my ear, then sliding it out, stuffed it into my pocket. The last thing I needed was Greg overriding coms silence and Cole roaring instructions in my ear. They’d done their part; now it was time for me to do mine.

  A quick check of the time told me what I already knew: I was late. Frankie was going to kill me. Pushing a small button on my watch, numbers started to flick across the screen.

  Sliding my hand along the door, I found the seam and pulled. It didn’t budge. Digging my feet into the floor, I took a deep breath and yanked.

  No movement.

  What the fuck is this door made out of?

  Just for the sheer hell of it, I swiped the keycard I’d stolen through the lock. The one they would have cancelled as soon as it was discovered missing.

  The doors slid open.

  Not good.

  I eyed the doors for a trap. I couldn’t see any wires, there were no guns pointing at me, and I couldn’t smell any humans waiting to jump out of the shadows. The air was still, the building silent except for the odd clunk and clang as it settled down for the night. Nothing unusual … or weird … or suspicious.

  Apart from the keycard that happened to open a non opening door.

  I stepped inside, half expecting the doors to slam shut and alarms to start blaring. The doors did slide shut, but it was the same quiet whoosh of metal from this afternoon. No loud noise, no shouting, no attack.

  Every fiber of my body screamed that this was too easy, that something was wrong. But it didn’t matter; I’d come here to do one thing, and I wasn’t leaving without her.

  Anyway, I had a challenge to win.

  A smile tugged at my lips as I jogged across the foyer and toward the stairs, bypassing the elevator. Slipping into the stairwell, I headed down until I reached the bottom. Back pressed against the cool stone, I peered into the corridor.

  The acrid stench of bleach hit my nose, along with an undertone of copper. And chocolate and chili. Frankie. I held back the urge to burst into the corridor and follow my nose like some kind of damn sniffer dog, scanning a second time for any signs of hostiles.

  Clear on all fronts; nose, ears, and eyes.

  Setting off at a slow, easy pace, I followed Frankie’s instructions to head left and then follow the corridor to the end. It sounded easy enough; she’d said I couldn’t miss it. Just look for the door with the big bolt on it.

  The strip lights flickered as I passed beneath them, casting shadows up and down the white washed walls. The vents pushed out recycled air on a soft hiss, the smell of copper growing stronger as I moved through the basement level.

  Checking over my shoulder, I palmed my gun, the weight heavy and reassuring in my hand. Claws were awesome, but nothing could beat a silencer when it came to a quick and clean disposal.

  Still clear. I had eyes on the door. It was ugly and metal and looked to be made of reinforced steel. There was no big neon sign flashing “The Hole”, but I was pretty sure I had found it. I’d know for sure in a minute.

  A soft whoosh carried on the air had me spinning around, knees braced and gun leveled for an attack.

  There was nothing there. The corridor was empty.

  I looked down at the dart sticking out of my thigh.

  Fuck.

  Everything went black.

  I peeled open an eyelid, my mouth fuzzy and dry. I was lying on a concrete floor, the cold seeping into my bones. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push past the lethargy that threatened to drag me back under.

  What the hell did they hit me with? Dinosaur tranquilizers?

  Pushing up with my elbows, I looked around. Bare brick walls, flickering light … and Frankie.

  I was on my feet and lurching across the floor before my mind had chance to make sense of what my eyes could see.

  “Stop or we’ll shoot her,” a disembodied voice commanded.

  It took a moment, but my muscles eventually obeyed as I skidded to an unsteady halt. “Frankie—”

  “Silence!”

  She stared at me, horror reflecting in her beautiful hazel eyes. The blackness around the edges of her eyes was smudged, a dirty trail tracking down her swollen cheek. But, worst of all, her hands were wrapped in steel; thick chains lifting her up and binding her to the wall.

  I couldn’t stop the low snarl that rumbled up from my chest, chasing the last of the drug haze away. I didn’t even try. Whoever had done this to her was going to pay—with their life.

  “Good. Let’s begin. My name is Mr. Getts. I’m in charge.”

  My snarl increased, my hands clenching into fists. If he really thought—

  Crack! A gunshot echoed through the room, the brick to the right of Frankie’s head splintering as the bullet hit home.

  My mouth clamped closed.

  “As I was saying … I am in charge. I know about you, Abel. About what you are: a werewolf. An animal. You fascinate me, the way your strength and power are tied to the form of a wolf. You’ll be happy to know; I’ve done my research—”

  Not really.

  “—And I know all about the mating urges, the biting that happens when a male claims his mate for breeding purposes. The urgency you must feel to stake your claim in the basest, most animalistic way—by fucking the woman you see as yours—Frankie.”

  He couldn’t know … there’s no way he’d—

  “Your true mate.”

  Shit. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not so sure, I’ve seen the way you look at her. And you’re here now, aren’t you?”

  Double shit. “If she were meant to be my true mate, I would have claimed her by now.”

  Silence met my statement, the speaker crackling with static, then, “Maybe … but she’ll have to do.”

  What the fuck did that mean? I’d turned to face the speaker, noting the sophisticated camera pointed in our direction. But it was really an excuse, I couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes, to see the look on her face as I dismissed her as unimportant.

  I had to lie, and I couldn’t risk letting her know.

  Because he’d see it. Then he’d use it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Frankie

  Hope died like a baby bird flailing its wings in the mother of all storms. Scratch that, he obliterated it like a motherfucking cyclone.

  I wasn’t his true mate.

  Something I hadn’t even heard of until half an hour ago, but once I had, the idea of being Abel’s everything had hit me square in the chest and blown all other hope and dreams clear out of the water. Soul mates
. A person who would love me for all time, cherish and care and laugh with me. Listen to my bad jokes and put up with my funky mood swings.

  But I wasn’t. He’d left no wriggle room, no chance of misunderstanding. I knew him, could tell when he was lying, and he believed everything he’d just said.

  I wasn’t his soul mate. Fuck, it hurt.

  It also meant I didn’t matter to him—I mean, I did, he obviously cared about me, he’d come here—but for what they wanted? Never going to happen. They couldn’t use me to get to him.

  Sweet relief flooded me as I let my head drop forward onto my chest. It would all be over soon. My only regret? That I hadn’t told him how I really felt.

  Shit! My head snapped back up. They had someone watching Dez; how could I have forgotten? Hmmm, distracted, much?

  Getts was still talking, I was starting to think he liked the sound of his own voice a bit too much. “…Shame about Holly, but these things happen.”

  Across the room from me, Abel visibly flinched.

  I peered at him, noting the tremor in his hand, the tightness around his eyes. Who was Holly?

  Getts carried on, “To lose a mate, especially when she’s carrying your child … a terrible tragedy. She died hating you; she hated what you were, could never accept you. You tried to change, but can a beast really be brought to heel? Become civilized?” He carried on, not waiting for an answer, “Civilized—not so much, but brought to heel? Yes. And don’t worry, I believe in second chances. This time your mate will accept you fully and completely, she’ll do everything you ask of her. I will guarantee it.”

  “Enough!” Abel roared, his eyes flashing gold and jaw gritted.

  “Why? Every time you look in the mirror, you remember Holly. Remember what you lost—what you did. You like to relive the pain.”

  Abel’s hand drifted to his cheek, tracing the line of his scar as though lost in a distant memory.

  “Maybe somebody should have told them: saline solution is a definite no-no for werewolves who are healing from their wounds. Salt of any kind, really. I’ll make sure to put a note in your personnel file, after we’ve finished testing the limits of your capabilities …” This time Getts sounded pure evil; he was enjoying this far too much for my liking.

  “Stop it!” I screamed, tugging against the chains. They clanged against the wall, but didn’t budge.

  My eyes were locked on Abel, witnessing his grief as it washed across his face, the memories of his past digging their claws in and twisting. Whoever she had been to him, however much he had, or still did love her, I couldn’t summon hate. We all had a past, some rougher and harder than others. I should know …

  “Tell her the truth,” Getts instructed. “I’m getting bored.”

  The truth? Which bit was a lie? Or was Getts lying? My head was spinning as I tried to keep up with the tangled web of the past.

  But Abel didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

  Minutes passed, neither of us moving.

  The speaker crackled, springing back to life. “I’ll give you some time to think on it, feel free to talk amongst yourselves, but don’t take too long.…” Then, blessed silence.

  Abel sprung into action, pacing to the far edge of the room and started examining the door.

  “There’s no point,” I offered. “It’s a perfect box, I should know, I’ve been here before.”

  I knew he heard me, but he didn’t stop, his fingers searching for any weakness along the door’s edge.

  “Abel, about what he said—”

  “They’re listening.”

  Oh, right. “How about removing these chains then?” I rattled my hands at him, flashing what I knew was a weak-ass grin, but I was too tired and miserable to summon anything flashier.

  Watching the camera, he made his way over, each step closer a slow test to gauge our captor’s reaction.

  About a foot away, he froze, every muscle in his body locking down and flexing. “I … can’t … come … any … closer,” he growled in a low voice.

  “What—? Why?”

  “Your scent … it’s calling my wolf. He’s trying to seize control. I’m fighting him, but he’s strong … too fucking strong,” his words tumbled out as a snarl, the veins in his neck throbbing and his biceps swelling as he clamped his arms across his chest.

  Uh oh … He was fighting it, his entire body physically trembled with the strain of holding back, but his eyes told a different story. They devoured me, the gold lighting up the room and leaving no doubt in my mind as to what he really wanted. What he really wanted to do to me.

  Longing swirled through my stomach, a needy and aching response to his silent plea.

  Answering hunger swirled in his eyes, a guttural groan falling from his lips as he took a slow step toward me. Pain shimmered for a split second, washing away in a look that was so hot and raw, a shiver of anticipation ran through me.

  His face promised he wouldn’t be a gentleman, wouldn’t ask before he took. He’d demand everything; wring every last drop of pleasure from my body while he plundered and sated his need.

  He was hungry, and I was the meal.

  But was it what he really wanted? And, more to the point, could I resist him?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Abel

  I couldn’t breathe for the fire circling through me, her scent was everywhere, intoxicating and sweet and exactly what I needed. Chocolate and chili … as if she were made for me.

  I wanted to drown in her; it was the only way I could quench my thirst.

  Through the blanket fog of pure lust, I was hanging on to my control by a thread. Between the drugs they pumped me full of and the thick wave of scent rolling off her, I was going to lose it. The reaction is real, it’s because of her—and only her—but it’s not the subtle call to mate, it’s a sledgehammer demanding obedience. Her scent is shrieking at my wolf, demanding that we service her needs, digging it’s claws into my skin and dragging me kicking and screaming until all I can think of is her.

  Fuck!

  The call to mate rides me, thickening my cock until it’s so hard it physically hurts. Images of mounting her, slamming deep inside and sinking my teeth into her throat flash through my mind. I can make her mine.

  I take another step forward, the siren’s lure too strong to resist. Why should I? She is my true mate. Why do I deny it?

  “Abel …”

  I tilt my head to the side, examining her. Is she telling me to stop? Or that she wants me? Her eyes are wide, but not with fear, her pupils big and round with a need that equaled my own. Her chest heaved with every breath, the dusky mound of her breasts rising and straining above the tight leather, just asking to be released.

  I take another step. Our legs brush. I haven’t touched her yet. I know that when I do, I won’t be able to stop. I want to savor the moment.

  We’re being watched.

  I don’t care.

  I want my mate and she’s here. She can’t go anywhere, can’t escape, and she wants me. I can smell her arousal, taste it on my tongue.

  I grit my teeth against the surge of adrenaline, the overwhelming instinct to mark her. It hurts …

  “Abel, this is what they want.”

  “You want it too. I can smell you calling to me, sweet and juicy and ready for my cock.”

  She sucked in a breath, but not because she didn’t like it.

  “You’re mine.” My wolf howled his agreement at my declaration.

  Take her, he growled.

  “Yours? But … you said—?”

  “And I’m yours.”

  Her lips parted, a shudder running through her.

  The last of my control snapped. “You want this, you always have,” I murmured in a husky growl. Pushing her back against the wall, I covered her body with mine and ground against that sweet spot between her legs. She was wet for me, drenched with need and ready to accept me as her mate.

  Perfect.

  Ripping open my jeans, I palmed my cock, sliding
my hand along the thick stiff length.

  Tracking my movement, her eyes widened, her breath hissing out as her eyelids fluttered to half mast.

  She wanted me. Needed me.

  Urgency gripped me. She has to be naked.

  Extending a claw, I slashed the chains, slicing her clothes until she was revealed to me in all her lush, beautiful glory.

  Her husky whimper was like music to my ears.

  Grabbing her hips, I lifted and spread her.

  Mate … claim … mate … claim …

  Her head fell forward, the same need coursing through me etched into her face in stark lines. “They want this. I’m so sorry. They told me they want a mated pair.”

  Her soft whisper filtered through the crazed heat. What?

  “I’m sorry; they said they’d kill her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Frankie

  My back arched, my hips rocking into his hands. I craved him, wanted him so badly that every cell in my body tingled and burned. I wanted to rock forward and impale myself on his cock, take him inside of me and ride him until we’re both spent.

  My newly freed arms wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into his wide shoulders.

  This is wrong.

  I know they’ve done something to me, something weird that’s triggering a response in him that I can’t trust is real.

  But still my hips move, searching for him, controlled by an instinct older than time.

  They plan to use us. I know the Agency, they wanted to use me to control him. To make him their lap dog.

  His cock brushed against my opening, obliterating all sensible thought. My answering moan is the vocal equivalent of a shiver.

  I want him. But not like this.

  “Abel, please.”

  He nuzzled my neck, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. His fingers dug into my hips, readying me for claiming.

  I force the words out, though I wasn’t sure anymore. “Not like this. Not because they want it.”

  His nostrils flared. “You want me.” He wasn’t asking—he knew.