by Angela Foxxe
“I don’t think anything is broken,” she said finally. “It hurts, but I’ll be fine.”
“It doesn’t look good.”
“Bruises rarely do,” she said, shedding her pants and stepping into the tub. “I’m sure that it will look better in the morning. Or worse. As long as it feels better, I’m not going to complain.”
“I’d like to have Doctor Dennison look at that.”
“Tomorrow,” she said, leaning back and letting her body sink up to her neck in the water. “Right now, I want to soak away these aches and pains, and then I want to go to bed.”
“I understand.”
He turned to leave, but she stopped him.
“Don’t go,” she said, her eyes begging him to stay. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Alright,” he said, settling on the edge of the massive tub and smiling at her. “Is that better?”
“Much better. Whose house is this?”
“Mine.”
“It’s so big.”
“I thought you were asleep when I brought you in.”
“I was, but I remember the bedroom. I mean, from a dream. I don’t know why, but everything here is very familiar. I know that the house is huge, and that there is a metal gate at the front and a high, brick wall that surrounds the house and the yards.”
“When did you dream about that?” Paul asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise.
“In the truck. At first, I thought that I was just in a daze, and not awake enough to realize that I wasn’t dreaming. But I dreamt about this room and that bed, and then I woke up and we were still driving, so I went back to sleep. When I woke up again a few minutes ago, and looked around, I knew exactly where I was.”
“Did anything else happen in the dream?” he asked, afraid of her answer. He hadn’t had a dream about this house, and he wasn’t sure if her dream would bring bad news or good. Or no news at all.
“Nothing happened at all. I just woke up in the bed and I was looking for you, but I could hear you in the shower. When I woke up for real, it was the same as the dream. What do these dreams mean? Why do I keep having them?”
“They are dreams to prepare you for what’s going to happen. Sometimes, they are a warning or a promise, other times, they are simply reassurance that you are on the right path.”
“I guess that makes sense. Do you have dreams like mine?”
“Yes and no,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Mine are a little different.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know why I’m having them at all. I thought that was just a shifter thing, but I guess not.”
“Humans have been known to have Fated dreams, but only certain humans, and it can happen for months or weeks and then never again.”
“Well, it’s unsettling.”
“Why?”
“They’re so realistic, that sometimes I wake up and wonder if I’m dreaming again. I don’t like waking up confused and groggy. This is new for me.”
“They’re a gift from Fate,” Paul said solemnly. “Even though they can be unsettling, you have to pay attention to them. The messages contained in your dreams could be the difference between life and death.”
“I get it,” she said. “This is just all so new to me, and I have to admit, I wasn’t prepared for any of this.”
“None of us are until we have to be.”
She held her hand out and he helped her stand, draining the tub and using the shower head to wash away the residue left on her soft skin by the bath salts. He longed to touch her, but now was not the time. He couldn’t act on his urges just because she was naked in front of him. Sabrina was one of a kind, and a more vibrant soul than anyone he had ever met. She deserved his patience and to come to her fate on her own terms and at her own pace.
He wrapped her in the large towel, using a second, smaller towel to dry her long hair tenderly. When she finished, he helped her get into the long t-shirt, looking at the football sized bruise one more time before she covered it with the shirt.
“I’m tired,” she said again. “Are you going to stay with me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I would feel safer if you were with me. I’m usually such a light sleeper; I’m afraid to go to bed this tired, knowing that I’m vulnerable.”
She slipped into the bed, moving over and making room for him so that he would be between her and the door. He followed her lead, sliding between the sheets and settling in. She moved against him, wiggling until every inch of her body was cradled in his. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better,” she sighed.
She was quiet for a moment, so long that he thought that she had fallen to sleep again. When she finally spoke, he was almost startled.
“Where did you live before you were forced to live here?” she asked, her voice already heavy with fatigue.
“I lived in Miami.”
“How did you find this place? Everything we have been fed by the media is saying that every house was destroyed and that the WereLions are reclaiming the land and destroying any sign of civilization that once was here. But it looks like that also isn’t true.”
“It’s not even close to true. Some of us, like me, owned a second home in The Zone already. I moved in this home at the very beginning of the relocation, avoiding a lot of issues in the process. When I was served papers, and given ninety days to move, I just left.”
“Why?”
“Why fight it? Things had been getting more strained between our species. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Besides, I wasn’t leaving anything behind that I couldn’t have here. Well, besides the beach.”
“You didn’t have a family or a job?”
“I retired five years ago.”
“At twenty-five?” she asked, shock perking her up a bit.
“Yes. I had developed some phone software, a really simple program, actually. But it changed how people use cellphones, and there were several companies vying for my product. I sold it for one hundred million, put the money in savings and investments and retired. I’ve been living off the interest for years.”
“So, you just left Miami and moved here?”
He snuggled in, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her affectionately.
“You would be surprised by how tense a city can be right before something like this happens. It’s usually pretty easy to spot us, since we’re usually taller and more muscular than most human men. I was tired of the constant run ins with the law. It gets exhausting to be suspected of everything just because of your species.
When I received the notification that my area was being relocated to The Zone and a start date, I packed my bags and put my Miami house on the market. It sold within a day, and I flew up here with a few suitcases and nothing else.”
“That’s insane.”
“Not really. A lot of people didn’t get the notice I got. That’s one perk of being well-connected.”
“I’m still sorry that happened to you. And I’m sorry about my part in all of this. I feel awful.”
“You didn’t know. Nobody really knows what is going on. The media is selective, and you can only know what is shared with you.”
“I just feel like I should have realized that something was wrong.”
“It really isn’t worth beating yourself up over. You’re here now, and that is what matters. Everything else is water under the bridge.”
He heard her let out a shuddering sigh and he kissed the top of her head again, trying to reassure her.
“Get some rest. We have a long afternoon ahead of us, and I want to make sure that you’re feeling rested and ready.”
“Promise that you will be here when I wake up?” she asked, her words sluggish as the exhaustion worked to claim her.
“I promise,” he said.
Within seconds, she was sound asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER EIGH
T
Tom Decker sat in his office chair, staring in anger at the news on the television. A grizzled old man, obviously a seasoned and avid hunter, was giving an interview to a local news anchor, recounting the events of the afternoon before. The man was the only one to get close to the couple, and his bullet had missed them both. His harrowing tale of chasing the pair into the wilderness was making Decker’s blood boil. The man had been so close, and yet he had failed. Sabrina and Paul were across the border now, and there was nothing that Decker could do. At least not now.
The border was heavily guarded, both by the government and by LEO. Even with the heavy military presence, WereLions left The Zone all the time, buying supplies and food, even though the Canadian border was open to them, and even though The Zone was pretty much self-sustaining. Though the common citizen believed that the WereLions had reverted back to their wild ways and were living like animals in the vast wilderness of the Northwest, it was far from the truth. Many WereLions lived as they always had, stepping into whatever business was needed and keeping the area running as seamlessly as it had before.
Farms still produced, repair shops still functioned, and the last report he’d gotten from the inside had confirmed that shifter children who were not seized were attending schools in buildings that had been left vacant when the humans had been removed. In short, the exile had done nothing to break the spirit of the WereLions and the humans who sneaked across the border with them, and that pissed him off more than anything. Instead of suffering and lashing out, they were thriving.
As of now, HLF was its own entity, and not run by or influencing the government much beyond inciting rage against WereLions and the humans that created families with them. Decker intended to change that with his presidential bid, bringing HLF to the forefront and making sure that relations between the two species were upheld by HLF and fell in line with the values of the people.
Once HLF was firmly rooted within the government, Tom Decker had every intention of tweaking policies until eradicating all shifter life forms was the main agenda of the government. With any luck, the world would follow his lead, and soon, there wouldn’t be a shifter left in any corner of the world. And then, the real work would begin.
The man continued with his adventure, much to Tom’s dismay. He wanted to shut the man up, but eliminating him on live television wasn’t an option. He would have to wait, and it would have to look like an accident.
“And you say you followed them to a tunnel of some sort?” the reporter was asking the man.
“I did.”
“Yet, you weren’t able to catch them?”
The man screwed up his face in disgust at the tone the reporter was taking with him.
“You have no idea how rugged that terrain was. And I almost had them, but there were guards on the other side.”
Decker tilted his head, watching the man as he spoke. His indignation and his frustration were evident; the man wasn’t making this up and had been close to apprehending both fugitives. Decker picked up his phone, dialing a number he knew by heart and waiting for the answer on the other side.
“Hamilton,” came a terse voice, with no other introduction.
“I need a favor,” Decker said, without introducing himself.
“How much?”
“Fifteen million. But I need this one taken in alive.”
“Not my favorite, but doable,” Hamilton said. “Who are we looking at?”
Decker looked at the screen, squinting to read the man’s name on the multicolored background.
“Charles Davies. He’s on the news right now, talking to a reporter about his encounter with two fugitives in the wilderness. I need Mr. Davies here ASAP. I have a proposition for him. Tell him I’ll make it worth his while.”
“Excellent,” Hamilton said before disconnecting the call.
Decker sat back in his chair, arms behind his head and closing his eyes. The relief that washed over him was strong. Hamilton was the one person he could count on to get the job done, and he was happy to have him onboard. The other agents might resent his presence, but they had failed on so many levels that Decker didn’t care. Hamilton would do with ease what fifty men would struggle to fail at.
The sounds of the television in front of him drifted away as he slowly lost himself to a blissful sleep. It had been so long since he had slept well that he fell asleep right there in the office chair, feet propped up on the desk, head falling to the side and arms folded across his chest. He let his thoughts run unchecked, letting his mind work through all the issues of the past few days while the darkness crept in and the sounds around him faded into oblivion.
Ever since Sabrina and Paul had slipped through his hands and ruined his carefully crafted plan, he had been struggling with insomnia. His plan had been so perfect; send the girl in there, and while they were both occupied, send in a team to recover her. A fight would ensue, and the beautiful agent would die. She would be hailed as a patriot, and celebrated as a martyr, and the world would start to see shifters the way that Decker always had.
No longer would the unwashed masses huddle in fear with the wool over their eyes. They would have known that they were in danger, and they would have begged Tom Decker to take over the country and lead them against the shifters. But now, things were much more complicated. With Sabrina safely held behind the secured border, it was going to take a lot more effort to get to her and to make sure that she was dead so that she couldn’t talk. Many of his agents would die, and that would further anger the people and turn them against the shifters. It was the perfect plan.
Decker had been careful to avoid any casualties within HLF, but after the epic failures of the last two days, he found himself less and less concerned with the lives of the fools that served his cause. What should have taken a couple hours was now on day three, with no end in sight. If some of the agents that botched the mission ended up dying, then so be it.
Decker didn’t know when his musings had given way to sleep, but he woke up hours later, neck stiff and in a foul mood at whoever had knocked on his door. He took a moment to right himself, checking his reflection in a small mirror he kept in his desk drawer and then going to the door to unlock it.
Hamilton was on the other side, standing quietly, his lips spread in what Decker had always assumed was a smile.
“That was quick,” Decker said, noting the man standing beside Hamilton with a curt nod.
“It’s been three hours,” Hamilton said, wryly.
“Well, then,” Decker said, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep. “Come in and have a seat, Mr. Davies.” He looked over the hunter’s head and addressed Hamilton, “I’ll see to it that Mr. Davies gets home and your payment will be in your account within the hour.”
Charles came in through the doorway, looking around nervously and stiffening when he heard Tom Decker thumb the deadbolt into place and lock the door.
“Have a seat,” Decker said again, indicating the leather chair in front of his large desk. “I understand that you have some information for me, and I would like to hear it.”
Decker sat down, opening a program on his computer and quickly transferring the funds he had promised to Hamilton with a few clicks.
“You could have called first,” the man huffed. “There was no need to send a chopper for me without at least letting me know first.”
“My apologies,” Decker cooed at the man, ignoring the ire that rose in him at the man’s obvious misunderstanding of the situation. But he had information that Decker needed, so Decker was going to have to make the man feel like someone cared about his indignation. “The situation is critical, and I didn’t know how to reach you, but I knew where you were during the newscast. If I would have had time to find your contact information and invite you here like I would under normal circumstances, I would have done that. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this has caused you.”
“My wife knows where I am and who I went to meet,” Charles said suddenly.
&nb
sp; “You’re not in any danger here.”
“Why did you lock the door?”
“This subject contains some sensitive information. While I trust many of my colleagues, I can’t have my sources getting revealed. I’m sure you don’t want shifter sympathizers coming after you when it’s all said and done? Even with the life of a human hanging in the balance, they would still cry foul over the death of a WereLion. I don’t want to put you in the middle of that.”
The man’s face softened and he shook his head.
“I never considered that. I appreciate you taking care not to get me caught up in the politics of it. I’m after the money, and nothing more. My wife is sick and needs surgery. I don’t really care one way or another about shifters and who keeps company with them.”
“The woman is not with him willingly.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“I understand how that might be confusing for you, but this woman is one of my agents. She’s working undercover, but he fled with her, forcing her to leave the safety of the mission and I’m trying to get her back before her cover is blown. If the lion finds out who she is, he will kill her.”
“Why didn’t she just leave when she got a chance? It doesn’t make sense that she couldn’t find a way out before this.”
“This agent is one of the best,” Decker said patiently, though he was feeling anything but. “If she didn’t get away, it’s because she hasn’t found an opportunity to. I have the utmost faith in her and her abilities.”
“Maybe sending a man in would have worked better,” the hunter snickered. “After what happened to that girl, Annie, you would think you would be more careful.”
“That girl,” Decker seethed, “was my daughter. So yes, Mr. Davies, I assigned Sabrina to this project with a heavy heart and fearing for her safety. But I also had dozens of men surrounding the meeting place, and the lion still managed to slip through our grasp with Sabrina in tow. We couldn’t have anticipated that the lion was prepared to jump from the fourteenth story of the hotel. Lions can’t fly after all.”