The Stranger Trilogy Box Set

by Isadora Brown

  I

  Keeper

  Stranger Series Book 3

  To my readers,

  Without you, my writing would be words on a blank sheet of paper.

  Prologue

  General Arbuckle prided himself on always being one step ahead of everyone else. He liked having plans for every possible outcome, and then some. He was organized and strategic. His wife complained about his lack of spontaneity, but loved the fact that he remembered every detail of her day at work or the diamond necklace she pointed out during their Sunday window-shopping routine six months later for their anniversary. It was why he was so damn good at his job. It was why he had been hand selected by the Vice President to do research regarding these peculiars the minute they were made aware of their presence. There were plenty of secrets between him and his wife, but he did not feel guilty. It was part of his job, and he was lucky enough to have found a woman who understood that.

  However, there were times when secrets could not be kept.

  There were times things went bat-shit crazy, where even someone as prepared as he was couldn’t plan for.

  It happened last night, at the Grand Hotel.

  That girl, Jane Cabot—he would never forget her name as long as he lived—ruined everything. Not only did she inadvertently kill his resource in Calvin Johnson, she shot herself with his gun. He had only threatened to kill the other male. There was no way he would have shot him—not when he could provide crucial information to the quis breed. Calvin was merely a boy. The man, Daryl—if General remembered correctly—had experience, a known track record, and knowledge Calvin could only dream of having. Why would he risk Daryl’s life, or even injury?

  He wouldn’t.

  But they didn’t know that. No one did. Despite them being animus, General had trained himself to block his mind from those who wanted to read it. Calvin was annoying, but he was brilliant. To teach a human something that powerful … Such a damn shame he was dead.

  And it was all Jane’s fault.

  Which was why he had made the executive decision to call a press conference three days later. The VP approved; everything was set.

  Shit was going to hit the fan.

  He decided to call it in front of the hotel. It was already under construction—they had to completely renovate the interior of the lobby and the ballroom, which General was paying for personally—and it would generate good press for the hotel. They would have nothing but positive things to say about the military and the government, and everything detrimental to say about peculiars.

  This was exactly the point.

  He needed public opinion toward peculiars to be negative. Since no one knew they existed in the first place, he had a real opportunity to do so now. It would take precision and careful preparation … but that was what General was good at, anyway.

  `

  For throwing a press conference on Catalina Island, General Arbuckle had a good turnout. All major news stations were there, plus popular cable news networks as well. It would seem everyone had heard what happened at the hotel, but no one could explain it. Since he was offering such an explanation, they flocked to him like dogs to a bone. He walked out with his head held high, pushing the nervous boulders tumbling around in his stomach down and ignoring the fear that whispered in his ears.

  The man was a talker but had an irrational fear of public speaking. His hands would sweat; his heart would race. He got nervous just thinking about it. However, he pressed his lips together in a thin line, tilted his chin up. His eyes looked straight ahead, and his put a mask of indifference on his face. Walked onto the podium in front of the reporters that congregated at the park across from the hotel, he rolled shoulders back, his posture rigid. He clenched his jaw and silently repeated the mantra his speech professor in college had taught him so many years ago: "I am bigger than my fear."

  By the time he faced the reporters, he was calm. Just because he grabbed the podium a little tighter than usual didn't mean anything.

  "Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he began. His sharp, crystal eyes gazed at the crowd in front of him. General Arbuckle never used cue cards, never needed a prompter. He didn't see the point. He spoke from the heart, never prepared a speech or recited anything beforehand. He had been blessed with the ability to say exactly what he needed to without practice. He was firm, concise, and clear. "I'm here to tell you exactly what happened in the Grand Hotel. First, my name is General Arbuckle. I'm a proud member of the U.S. Army. Decorated veteran. Still serving in the intelligence division. I'm head of a select operating team that focuses on inexplicable occurrences that happen in the United States. Before today, this team was strictly confidential. Only those that knew about it were on the team. That has changed.

  "Two nights ago, I hosted a gala in the ballroom of the Grand Hotel in order to present our recent findings to a highly select group of individuals in the need to know. Those findings include a highly evolved human species with abnormal abilities including but not limited to telekinesis, telepathy, shape shifting, and physical strength. I know the idea seems preposterous, but please believe me when I say I'm being one hundred percent honest.

  "In fact, I even had a few of those individuals—they call themselves peculiars—on hand to demonstrate said abilities. They were there of their own choosing, wanting to learn more about what makes them who they are on a biological, mental, physical and spiritual level. Many reached out to us and even signed waivers to allow us to run experiments—some invasive, some noninvasive—on them. Our results would have changed the scientific community as we know it. Hell, it would have changed the way we see ourselves as humans. These were peculiars, all legal adults, consenting to give priceless information to their country about things we never would have dreamed was possible.

  "Until one girl ruined everything.

  "Jane Cabot heard about the gala and disagreed with the unity of both humans and peculiars. She saw peculiars as advanced, and humans as less than, no better than the grains of dirt that get caught in the soles of your shoes. She's telekinetic and telepathic—a rare crossbreed known as a quis. In fact, only two other quis are known to exist in the peculiar community, both males. We would have welcomed her assistance with open arms. As a female, she would have provided information we, in no way, would have ever been able to acquire. But she didn't want that. She killed Calvin Johnson, a brilliant scientist barely eighteen who was one of our scientists. He already possessed a doctorate and wanted to further the advancement of both humanity and peculiars alike. We've already started a scholarship in his name. Miss Cabot also used my gun—using her telekinesis—and almost shot the only other male quis, her own professor, Daryl Depogare.

  "Despite the actions of one, we still want to bridge a relationship between us and peculiars. We still want to learn about their species and create a mutually beneficial partnership that will further our cause through scientific research in a controlled environment. I implore our peculiar brethren to come forward and sign up for our study. Only those of legal, consenting age will be considered, and you will be compensated for your time. You can help yourself, your species, and your country.

  "Finally, Jane Cabot escaped that night and no one has heard from her since. We want justice—for Calvin Johnson, for the Grand Hotel, for her professor. We're offering a $100,000 reward to any information leading up to her capture. We're counting on the good people of Catalina to do everything in their power to turn her in. And, should you be in contact with her for any reason, please execute great caution. She may not seem like it, but she's highly dangerous."

  A pause. He swallowed. His mouth always got dry while he spoke.

  "I have time for questions."

  1

  "Well, well, baby brother, what have you got yourself into?"

  Sophie Harper still couldn't believe Daryl Depogare had a brother. Not only that, but his brother looked nothing like him. Marvin Depogare was the same height as Daryl, but lanky and unintimidating. He had bi
g blue eyes, pale in color. His hair was a dusty blond color, cropped short and close to his head. His head was round and his ears stuck out, though not as dramatically as they could have. His short hair didn't help, however. His fashion sense was white trash—Sophie was positive the guy had worn the same outfit the day before due to the wrinkles and the lived-in feel of it. He wore a plain white t-shirt underneath a light black vest and plain blue jeans. On his feet were black boots. Despite his lack of fashion sense, he held his head high and walked around like he was king of everything. Sophie didn't even know the guy and already he annoyed her. He wasn't good looking by any means, but from certain angles, he might be considered decent. He looked ... slimy. Sophie got a shiver down her spine just glancing at him.

  "This is very bad." Daryl stared at Ethan Curtis, completely ignoring his older brother.

  Unlike Daryl, there was no hint of a Russian accent. It was southern all the way. Living in Georgia for decades would do that to a person.

  The dean of the Academy for Peculiars nodded his head once in agreement. "I agree," he said. "Jared and I already contacted parents of our students who have not yet returned and told them to keep their children at home until this ordeal is resolved. We'll be creating Facebook groups and sending them work and study material through email so they can keep up with their lessons, and everyone on track to graduate in June will still be able to do so. Students here will return to class like normal unless something else comes up."

  "What about us?" Will asked. "Jane? That fucking press conference put us on the map. We can't hide now."

  The corner of Ethan's lip curled into a grin. "Au contraire, Will," he said. "What General Arbuckle forgot to mention was that peculiars look exactly like humans. There's nothing for them to go off of.. We've been hiding in plain sight; just because Arbuckle told the world we exist does not mean the world knows who we are."

  Sophie frowned. "Still think he's good?" she asked, and she didn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Her thoughts focused on a recent conversation they had had—minus Marvin Depogare—where Ethan had pretty much defended General Arbuckle. "Now there's a witch hunt out for Jane. People will be doing everything in their power to find her and turn her over to the government."

  "If she's alive," Marvin pointed out, his hands on his hips. The guy walked around as if he owned the place, even though he barely got here yesterday.

  Without warning and before Sophie could even blink, Depogare slapped his hands on Marvin's chest and slammed him against the wall so hard the numerous degrees and accolades Ethan earned shook. He gripped the white shirt in his fists and held his older brother up. His face was contorted into a snarl, and his black eyes were so black they were blue. His copper-brown hair, always so pristine and in perfect position, fell into his face. This was not Daryl Depogare. This was not the proper professor who always kept his emotions in check and never revealed a thought.

  "You shut your mouth," he said through his teeth.

  Marvin did not help the situation by laughing.

  "Oh, hoh hoh!" he continued. "I've never seen this side of you before, baby brother. This girl's really worked a number on you, hasn't she?"

  "Daryl," Ethan stated, giving the professor a look that indicated he should cease and desist all physical aggression immediately.

  Daryl clenched his teeth but dropped his brother so abruptly Marvin nearly tumbled to the floor. Sophie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Her respect for the Aqua RH Director skyrocketed. Who knew Depogare had it in him?

  "We're almost positive Jane survived, Mr. Depogare," Ethan said, looking at the eldest brother. "Evidence suggests that the likelihood of Jane being hit by a bullet is slim to none. What we don't know is where she is, if anyone took her. That's actually why we called you in."

  "You didn't call me in, my friend," Marvin said. He looked too gleeful for the nature of the situation. "My baby brother did. That, unto itself, was enough for my curiosity to be piqued."

  "I'm surprised you even know the word," Will muttered under his breath.

  Sophie glanced at the shifter from the corner of her eye, suppressing a smirk. Her heart did that weird flutter thing whenever she looked at him, so her eyes snapped to safer territory—at Ethan. She and Will had been dating for about two weeks now, and it still felt surreal—probably because they had yet to go on an actual date. And they weren't allowed to tell anyone because he was her trainer and she was still a student. And she had just broken up with her boyfriend. Regardless of all of that, Sophie couldn't help the excited thrill she got whenever she was reminded that he was hers.

  The guy was frustrating and blunt; his directness drove her crazy. He was more Alpha than she tended to find attractive—he shifted into a wolf, after all—but he was protective, honest, and she knew without a doubt he would do anything for her, whether he agreed with it or not. He was dependable and kept her on her toes. He pushed her both mentally and physically to the point where she was now pushing herself to be the best she could be in every way. If she happened to fall short of her expectations, she could fall into Will's arms; he accepted her despite her flaws and vice versa, because Will had plenty of them.

  It didn't hurt that he was hot, on top of it all. He wasn't tall—just under six foot, which was average for a man. What he lacked in height, he made up for with muscle. Every inch of his physique was well built, but not to the point where it was too much. He had hazel eyes with flecks of green, a long nose, and a boyish smile on the rare occasion when he did smile. Will was more lumberjack than muscle man; he had a penchant for flannels and muscle shirts, jeans that molded to his body like they were created just for him, obnoxious belt buckles, and worn motorcycle boots. His big hands were rough and warm, and her heart pounded just thinking of them; he knew how to touch her, like his hands were specifically made to hold hers.

  Technically, Will was her boyfriend, but he was too mature for the word. He was her partner. Her lover. Her best friend. She loved being with him, even though he had a knack for pissing her off.

  "I don't remember talking to you," Marvin said. His tone went from jovial and amused to disgusted. Then, without bothering to hide his disdain, said, "Shifter."

  So Marvin had a thing against shifters. Sophie wasn't surprised. Marvin was supposed to be some mental hotshot—as big of a deal as Daryl, Jane, and Calvin were. Shifters were the most common peculiar. Apparently they were beneath Marvin. Sophie snorted. What a joke.

  "I called you," Daryl agreed, looking at his brother with nothing short of disdain. "And you haven't done shit since you got here."

  Sophie blinked. She never thought she would hear Depogare swear ever. It didn't sound unnatural, surprisingly enough.

  "We haven't discussed payment," Marvin said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  Will sprung up and restrained Daryl before the mental could get his brother in his clutches once more. Marvin started laughing again.

  "She must be worth a fortune, hmm?" he continued. "Tell me, baby brother, what is she worth? What are you going to do for me once I find her?"

  Ethan cleared his throat before Daryl could retort something. The professor's eyes were black daggers, and if it looks could kill ...

  "That is exactly why you're here, Mr. Depogare," Ethan reminded the man. Sophie admired how polite the guy was, but she loved the reactions Daryl was giving. "You are here to track down Jane Cabot, alive or dead. I understand your talent is unmatched. Before you even think about finding Jane and turning her over to General Arbuckle for the reward money, I want you to know that I'll triple the reward in exchange for her and your secrecy. Daryl has told me about you and how you work. I can respect that. However, this is too important to play games. Will you take our offer?"

  Sophie held her breath. Her eyes went from Daryl to Ethan to Marvin.

  "That's very tempting," Marvin said, rubbing his whisker-covered chin. "There's something else I want, though."

  "What mor
e could you possibly want?" Will growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

  Marvin smirked and slowly walked over to his brother. Sophie watched Will tighten his hold on Daryl just in case Marvin said something dumb to rile the professor up. Judging by the look on Marvin's face, she was almost positive he was going to say something to piss Daryl off. Was it wrong that her eyes gleamed with possibility? She pushed her back against the chair in hopes to get comfortable.

  "A favor," Marvin stated, still grinning. "I want a favor from my baby brother. No questions. Whenever and whatever I want. If you do that for me, I'll find your Janie in seventy-two hours."

  "Agreed."

  Marvin seemed surprised Daryl would agree to something as ambiguous as a favor so quickly. He nodded his head once, his eyes twinkling in mischief, with power. Will released his hold on his colleague tentatively, standing next to Daryl just in case Marvin decided to open his mouth once more and say something stupid. It was clear the shifter didn't like the guy—neither did Sophie. Neither did his own brother. But one thing was clear, if Marvin could find Jane no matter what in seventy-two hours, they needed him.

  "Seventy-two hours starts now, Mr. Depogare," Ethan pointed out. "I suggest you start your infamous search now."

  Marvin nodded. Now, the smile on his face was secretive, as though he knew something they didn't. Sophie narrowed her eyes at the sight of it, wishing she could read minds in that moment so she'd be able to figure out angle.

  "I'll call you in a couple," he said. With one last smirk directed at Daryl, he was out the door, taking the tension with him.