Shifter Wars Complete Series

by Sarah J. Stone

  I felt as though I should say something, but no words came to mind. I was totally transfixed by the beautiful man on the screen.

  "You're going to be working with Agent Swift closely, doing everything he says. Make no mistake, there are no secret tests to see whether or not you have an independent spirit or not. You're to obey Agent Swift's every command. He's an experienced agent—one of our best, actually."

  "And he's good at training new agents?" I asked, letting my curiosity get the better of me.

  Ms. Delahunt took in a slow draw of air through her nostrils as she considered the question. "He's…who we've chosen to train you. Let's leave it at that."

  With a tap on the keyboard in front of her, she cleared the picture of Jack from the screen, the TV now an obsidian black, the reflection of the office warped on its surface. "Your first mission will be to monitor an emissary from the Watsu clan of the tiger society. We have reason to believe that he's being targeted by the wolves, though we have no knowledge of to what end. You'll meet up with Jack and trail the target, monitoring his comings and goings. I'm sure that I don't need to emphasize that this mission is to be performed with the utmost secrecy."

  "But…aren't the Sapiens allowed to monitor anyone in the shifter society whenever we want?"

  "Yes, that's true. But you can understand that anyone we monitor would change their behavior once they realized we were tracking them. Or, even worse, try to throw us off the scent of whatever they're getting up to. Sometimes we let the subject become aware that we're monitoring them, sometimes we don't. In this case, we want the subject to be completely unaware."

  "Oh, okay," I said, feeling a little silly that I asked such an obvious question.

  As if they hadn't already considered that, I scolded myself. "Well, where do I meet him?"

  Ms. Delahunt typed in a few keys on her computer, bringing up information that she squinted to read. "You're going to meet him at…well, it appears he's already en route to the stakeout right now. Or, perhaps, getting a bite to eat. Go to Williamsburg. He'll be in contact with you once you get there. And be discreet about your meeting. When you see him, do not draw attention to yourself."

  Ms. Delahunt flicked her gaze at me, and I couldn't help but feel self-conscious under her scrutiny. "Report to room two-thirty-five for your sidearm issue. And," she said, looking my outfit up and down, "in the future, try to dress a little more professionally. That will be all."

  I stood up and hurried out of the room.

  "One more thing, Agent Helmsley."

  I turned, and Ms. Delahunt stared into my eyes with sharpened intensity.

  "Do not be late again."

  I nodded, my heart racing as I rushed out of the room.

  Okay, room two thirty-five. Can't be too far, right?

  I weaved through the passing agents, now paying special attention to their clothing. They all seemed to be dressed in chic, professional outfits, and now that Ms. Delahunt had said something, I couldn't help but feel that my own clothes were shabby in comparison. Stopping in front of a glass office partition, I took a sidelong glance at myself in the smoky mirror, sighing as I realizing that Ms. Delahunt was right.

  My hair was a mess, my outfit of an Ill-fitting gray pantsuit that hugged my too-big butt and white blouse that I'd bought from H&M looked awful in comparison to the clothes of the agents around me. And the less said about my drab flats, the better. My face grew red in the reflection, and I threw my gaze to the floor in front of me as I tucked my hair behind my ear and continued on. I mean, I knew that I wasn't the most fashionable person on the planet, but what difference did that make? I was smart, studious, and, like Ms. Delahunt noticed, had absolutely destroyed all of the tests, both the aptitude tests before espionage training and the exams after. And the fact that she was letting me do field work so soon in my Sapien career made it clear that Ms. Delahunt knew just how much potential that I had. At least, I hoped. But they'd never let anyone as green as me go out into the field.

  Still, I could do all the internal convincing I wanted, but it didn't change the fact that I felt completely out of place, and that it was only a matter of time before I was exposed as the fraud that I felt like I was.

  As I approached the room that Ms. Delahunt had instructed me to go to, I put these thoughts as best as I could out of my mind. Once I entered, the bulky, bald man with a sour expression on his fleshy face scanned my body with his eyes, as though he couldn't believe that someone as green as I must've appeared was really an agent. Or, at least, that's what his gaze felt like. With a grunt, h typed in my information, confirming that I was indeed who I said I was. Moments later, he produced a silver badge with the Sapien logo of the owl and the snake on it for me. Along with this, he gave me a small, boxy, black pistol along with a dingy holster of brown leather.

  "I don't need to tell you that discretion is a key part of the Sapien protocol," he said, his voice robotic and detached, as though repeating something he was obligated to tell all agents he issued a gun and badge to. "So, please only present your badge when you deem the circumstances fitting, and only discharge your weapon when all other options have been exhausted."

  I nodded, my eyes on the gun on the slate-gray counter between me and the man. I couldn't believe that I was being issued something like that. Sure, I'd fired a gun in training, but seeing it here before me, knowing that this weapon might be used at some point to end the life of a human or fellow shifter…it was a lot to take in. The man continued going through his speech, his words blurring into a din. I nodded along, and soon he was done, and presenting me with an electronic signing pad. I jotted down my name and scooped up my items, slipping the badge into my right front pocket and, not knowing what to do with the gun, wrapping the holster around my stomach and pulling my shirt down over it. Out of sight, out of mind, I supposed.

  With that, nothing was left to be done but meet my new partner, or senior agent, or whatever he was. Leaving Sapien HQ and making my way down the busy Manhattan street outside, the image of the man—Jack, was it?—his eyes glowing in my mind as though they were made of some kind of cobalt flame.

  Don't get distracted. Last thing you need is to fuck up because you have some stupid crush on your senior agent.

  But I couldn't help it. His face wouldn't leave my mind.

  As I got on the train, I practiced my slow breathing exercises, counting to ten, taking in long, full breaths while the train clattered down the tracks, using my diaphragm to pull in deep draws of air. I was nervous—beyond nervous. The last few months of training had sped by so quickly that the time from when I learned that I'd aced to being here, sitting on the M train, a badge in my pocket and a gun at my side, seemed to have disappeared in the blink of an eye.

  Soon, I was back onto the streets, now in Williamsburg. My phone buzzed, my reception now back from being underground. It was a text from a number that I didn't have in my phone.

  Diner 85. Be discreet.

  That was all it said. I assumed that it was Jack, and after putting the address into my phone, I rushed off in the direction of the place. It was an unusual little spot, designed to look like some combination of a retro diner and an old rail car. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.

  I scanned the room to find Jack sitting at a back booth with a serious expression on his face. I was maybe a couple of dozen feet away, but even from this vantage point I could see that he was just as hot, if not more so, in person. My heart skipped a beat and anxiety pooled like thick acid in the pit of my stomach. Taking one last breath, I made my way over to him.

  "Hi," I said, extending my hand toward him as his blue eyes flicked up at me. "Jack Swift? I'm Agent Nadia Helmsley. I'm your new partner, I think."

  But nothing that could even charitably be considered warmth formed on his face. Instead, he scowled as he spoke, his words sharp and low. "Sit down. Now. And don't say another word."

  CHAPTER 2

  NADIA

  "Huh?" I asked, my eyes going wide as
I looked around.

  "I said, ‘sit down,'" he repeated, his deep, resonant voice edged with anger.

  I got the hint and slid into the booth, taking a seat directly across from him.

  "What part of ‘be discreet' did you not understand?" he asked, his narrowed eyes on me.

  "Um, I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

  "Don't be sorry," he said, his voice still low. "Just don't draw any more attention to yourself."

  His gaze flicked over my shoulder, and I could tell that he was looking at something, or someone, off in the distance.

  "What's going on?" I asked, my voice now a low, hushed whisper.

  "Weren't you told what this mission was? Don't they tell you newbies anything?" He seemed beyond annoyed.

  "Um, just that we're doing a stakeout, right?"

  "That's right. And do you know what a stakeout is?"

  "It's where…you watch someone from a distance, and don't draw attention to yourself."

  "That's right," Jack said. "Now, tell me what you think I'm doing right now, and what you're currently doing to interfere with that."

  "You're…watching someone now, and I'm drawing attention to myself."

  "You're drawing attention to us," he corrected me. His voice seemed calmer now that I was seated and not announcing myself as an agent to anyone who cared to listen. "It doesn't look like he heard you." Jack relaxed his posture.

  "Who?" I asked.

  Jack's impossibly handsome face was blank, and he turned his eyes to the steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Other than that, there was nothing on the table aside from the silverware and a newspaper. "Look at the mirrored column behind me."

  I did. The mirror column afforded a full, if not warped, view of the part of the diner behind me.

  "See that guy at the far end of the diner? The black nab in the four-thousand-dollar suit?"

  The diner was heavily occupied, and I had to scan the tables to just who he was referring to. But when I spotted him, I couldn't believe that I'd missed him before. Seated at a booth at the far end of the diner was a slim, dark-skinned man in a glossy-looking suit of a deep, royal purple, the shirt underneath jet-black. I was far from a fashion expert, and even I could tell that it was an expensive get-up. Clearly, this guy didn't mind drawing attention to himself. He was seated with two other women, both shapely, one with dark skin and long hair and the other a redhead in a short shirt. The man was animatedly talking to them both, and the two girls seemed to be held in rapt attention. Though whether this attention was genuine or not was unclear.

  "That's Emmanuel Martin," Jack said, taking another sip of his coffee. "That's our target."

  "What's his deal?" I asked.

  "His ‘deal' is that he's a member of the tiger elite. Not one of their Three, but next in line."

  I widened my eyes at this. The Three were the government, for lack of a better word, of each shifter society species. They kept tabs on all activities of the clans of their species, and were responsible for diplomacy, espionage, and other matters of that ilk. They were all extremely wealthy and very powerful, and if someone like this man was being considered for such a position, it meant that he was one of the most important figures in the tiger shifter society. What he was doing here, in some diner in Williamsburg, was anyone’s guess.

  "Why is he here?"

  Jack took another sip of coffee. "Because he's been out all night. Mr. Martin was just awarded jurisdiction over West Harlem. I don't need to mention that a promotion like that means he's being considered for an even more powerful role at some point."

  "And why are you watching him?"

  "Because I have reason to think that his life is in danger."

  "What?" the word shot out, and I covered my mouth with my hands to prevent any more from escaping.

  "I don't know from whom or why, but I have on good information that someone's got their eye on him."

  "You think someone is going to kill him?" I asked, my voice a sharp, low whisper.

  But before Jack could respond, a short, squat waitress with curly-blonde hair and sailor tattoos up and down her arms approached the table.

  "Well, hello there!" she said to me, beaming down at us with a smile on her face. "More coffee, sweetie?" she asked Jack.

  "I would love some," he said the tone of his voice now warm, a friendly smile on his face.

  The waitress, her eyes on Jack in a manner that was clearly more attentive than that of a good server, topped off Jack's coffee.

  "Thank you, Adeline," Jack said.

  "Why, of course," responded the waitress, her eyes more than a little gaga. "Something for your friend?"

  "She just got in from Philly and I think she's famished," Jack said, turning his attention to me. "Go ahead, order something."

  This wasn't a polite request. "Um, just scrambled eggs and toast. And some coffee."

  The waitress gave me a little nod and Jack a wink before heading off.

  "Eat your food and drink your coffee. We might be here for a minute and I want you to look normal," he said, his voice back to its previous low, sharp tone.

  I nodded, a little shocked by how quickly he was able to switch from cold to warm. Jack and I drank our coffee in silence, occasionally turning our attention to Emmanuel, scattered bursts of laughter sounding from his table. The two girls tittered right along with him, and it was clear that he wasn't concerned in the slightest about keeping a low profile. If anything, he seemed to welcome the attention. Tigers could be like that, I noticed. They tended to be either cool as ice or loud and boisterous. This guy was definitely the latter.

  Soon, my food arrived and without thinking, I dug in. I was hungrier than I thought.

  "It's, um, good to be working with you," I said to Jack, whose newspaper was opened in front of him and one eye on the target.

  Seconds later, I dabbed up the grease from the eggs with my toast and washing it all down with a long swig of coffee. I was starting to feel a little more normal.

  Before I could get too comfortable, however, Jack rapped on the table with his fingertip, getting my attention. "Time to go," he said. "Target's on the move."

  I started to stand, but before I could lift my butt from the seat, Jack raised his hand, his eyes on Emmanuel.

  "Not until I say so."

  I turned my attention back to the column where I could see Emmanuel get up, the two girls following after him. Another booming laugh sounded from his direction, and I watched as Emmanuel slipped his arms around each of the waists of his company. Soon, they were gone.

  "There's a silver car parked a block over. When we get up, we're going to head there," Jack said. "This time, try not to draw attention to yourself."

  My eyes wide, I nodded. Jack pulled out his wallet, tossed a couple of twenties on the table, and flicked his head up.

  "Let's go."

  He gave a final wink to the waitress and we left. As we turned toward the car, I watched out of the corner of my eye as Emmanuel and his girls ducked into a mid-length limo, the side doors shutting behind them. Soon, we were in Jack's car, which was a sleek, silver little thing with a drop-top. I wasn't a car person, but even I could tell that this was a nice ride. We climbed in and were off.

  "So, anything else I should know about this guy?" I asked.

  "You gonna ask questions the whole time?" he responded, his eyes on the road.

  "No…" I said, feeling sheepish. "But I figured if I was going to be helping you with this mission I should at least know all the information."

  "You don't need to know all the information," Jack said. "You just need to do what I tell you and stay out of my way."

  Now, I was new and Jack was a senior agent, but this didn't really sound how I thought it should've. "But we're partners," I said. "We're working this case together."

  I winced hearing the words coming out of my mouth. I always felt like I could never stand up for myself without slipping into the know-it-all voice of the straight-A, front-and-ce
nter student, the kind who reminds a teacher on Friday that she forgot to assign homework for the weekend.

  "It wasn't my choice to work with a partner," Jack said, his voice terse. "If it were up to me, I would've left you back at that dinner."

  So much for a warm welcome.

  "Well, you can't, so you might as well let me help out how I can."

  "You can help by staying out of the way."

  "Fine," I said. "I'll just wait in the car the whole time."

  My desire to be a diligent little employee was superseding my anxiety. I wanted to not get on Jack's bad side, but I also wanted to do a good job. I doubted telling Ms. Delahunt that my contribution to the assignment was nil because Jack didn't let me do anything would go over well.

  Jack sighed, his eyes on the road, the long, black form of Emmanuel's limo turning around the upcoming corner. "In case you hadn't already figured it out, Mr. Martin isn't the shrewd type. He's the son of one of the wealthiest men in the Tiger society, and it's more or less an open secret that this is why he's being considered for a position in the Tiger three."

  "But why wouldn't the wealthy man just want to hold the position himself?"

  We turned the corner, keeping a healthy distance between us and the limo. The streets of Brooklyn were crowded, and we seemed to be making our way to the Williamsburg Bridge, the fastest route into Midtown Manhattan.

  "Because being on the Three is a public position. You're in the spotlight. Some prefer to exercise their power from behind the scenes. In that case, having a moron like Emmanuel, the type who you can keep in line by providing him with an endless supply of money and women, is ideal."

  "He'll do whatever you want," I said.

  "You got it."