Tiger’s Eye_Bad Alpha Dads

by Kenna McClare

  “You know why you’re here, Daniel.”

  John walked a slow half circle around Daniel, who was finally aware of his surroundings. They’d chained him up and manacled his wrists to a concrete wall. They’d left him with his boxers, but little else. “Where’s here?”

  The audio went on. “That means there’s no way to kill me either, shithead.”

  “Pause it.” John lifted one hand.

  Daniel scowled, his mood going black. No sound, Blondie had told him. Lying bitch.

  John wandered close, his eyes like flint as he narrowed them at Daniel. “What are you?”

  “A hitman,” Daniel said through clenched teeth.

  John extended a hand. One of his cronies gave him a blade. “So…if I do this…”

  The tip of the knife sliced into Daniel’s ribs. Daniel grimaced, biting back the pain. He knew what John would see. Within seconds, the wound would heal, the trickles of blood the only evidence he’d been harmed.

  “What the fuck are you.” It wasn’t a question; John’s tone brooked no argument. Daniel’s cat rose, a simmering anger building within him. He glowered, his fingers curling into fists.

  John stepped back, the color draining from his cheeks.

  Fuck! Daniel shut his eyes, doing his best to calm his tiger. His eyes must have given him away, just as Ronald’s had. “I’m no danger,” he said after a moment. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  John turned to the few others in the room. “Get out,” he barked. They scurried, seeming only too glad to do so.

  The door clicked shut, and John crept forward. “You’re a tiger, just like he was,” he breathed. “Aren’t you.”

  Daniel closed his eyes.

  “How?”

  The strength bled from Daniel’s body. He sagged. What was the point of denying it? They had him on tape. His own words had confirmed the truth.

  “Nineteen years ago, I was walking home after work,” he began in a wooden voice. “It was late. I was a bouncer at a club, and the hours weren’t nine-to-five.” He took a breath. “I got jumped in an alley. I fought back, but there were two of them, and one of them had a baseball bat. But I took one of them down, and then this guy showed up…Ronald.”

  “Did he shift right there?” John sounded like a kid on Christmas morning, which was sickening.

  “He grabbed the second guy around the neck,” Daniel went on, “and then suddenly, the fight was over. I was out of it, didn’t really know what was happening. I thanked him, but then he bit me. Not just bit me; that’s a fucking understatement. He hurt me.”

  John’s eyes hadn’t blinked in at least a minute. “Holy shit.”

  “He tore up my shoulder,” Daniel continued. “Things get hazy after that. There’s flashes that I remember. I think I passed out, but then when I woke up, he was still there, and…I attacked him. As a tiger. For a long time I thought it was a dream, but after I figured it out…anyway, I thought I killed him. Clearly I didn’t.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I must have passed out again after that. Morning came, I woke up, and the cops were there. I wasn’t dead. I thought I’d dreamed it…so I went home to—” he cut himself off. There was no reason to tell John about his wife.

  “Jesus Christ,” John whispered. “Then what?”

  Daniel shrugged. “I figured it out about four months later. I was at work, and some prick pissed me off. Before I knew what was happening, I’d put claws through his throat. As you’ve seen, it isn’t always a complete shift. I quit bouncing after that. I was too afraid I’d hurt someone else.”

  John shook his head slowly. “No full moons, or anything like that?”

  Daniel snorted. “Uh, no. I’m not a wolf. I’m a tiger.”

  “So, are there wolves out there, too? Werewolves?”

  “Maybe? I mean, who’s ever heard of a were-tiger?” Daniel shrugged. “I guess there could be wolves, but I’ve only ever met Ronald. He mentioned Texas, though. So there’s other tigers out there, that much I do know.”

  John was silent for a moment. “This is how you do it, isn’t it? How you don’t leave traces?”

  Daniel gave a slow nod. “Tigers don’t leave human footprints.”

  “But there’s never anything in the reports about any prints. No feet, no fingerprints, no…paws.”

  “Trees. Water. I can jump and climb.” Now that he was confessing, he saw no reason not to admit everything. “I’m best in the wilderness. Lots of trees to jump around in. Cops don’t investigate tree branches.”

  “And the healing?”

  “Yeah. Not much hurts me.”

  John’s eyes had gotten very focused. “Daniel…this is amazing. Do you know what this could do for us?”

  Daniel tensed.

  “You said it yourself. You can’t be killed.”

  “No, I can,” Daniel corrected. “You saw how we killed Ronald.”

  John gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “Bullets. Knives. You’re basically indestructible against regular humans.”

  Daniel’s fists tightened, the tips of his claws scratching against his palms. This didn’t sound like something he wanted to hear.

  “How did he change you? What’s the process? He bit you?”

  Daniel’s mouth dried, his chest suddenly tight. “Why do you want to know?"

  “You said you woke up the next morning and the cops were there. So, what, it’s a few hours for the change to happen?”

  “What the fuck are you getting at, John?”

  John Dearborn’s eyes glittered as he leaned in. “You’re about to start your own pack. Is that what it’s called? A tiger pack?”

  “No,” Daniel rasped. “Fuck, no! John, this isn’t a good thing. It’s a fucking curse. I’m not changing anyone.”

  “Come on, Daniel!” John began to laugh. “Think of it! Healing. Anonymity. Do you know, I have two men in critical condition right now? They could have died. We’ve lost a lot of guys over the years. It’s expensive. You’d be saving people.”

  “We’re hired killers,” Daniel growled. “Saving us, so we can kill others?”

  “Someone wants them dead,” John replied, his voice passionless. “If they don’t pay us to do it, they’ll pay someone else.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m changing anyone.”

  John took a casual step forward. “You will. You’ll start with me.”

  “No.”

  John unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head, followed by his undershirt. “Okay. I’ll unlock you, and you bite me.”

  “Why the fuck are you not getting this? No, goddammit!”

  At last, the words seemed to sink in. “No?”

  “Jesus, John! This is insane. There’s no way I’m turning you. You have a wife. Kids. You don’t want this.”

  “But if I have this, I can protect them,” John argued. “I can protect them better than I do now. No one would dare touch them.”

  Daniel swallowed, his throat closing as he remembered the night his wife had died. He shook his head, the words refusing to come out.

  John’s expression darkened. “You will do this. Or you won’t leave.”

  “Bolt the fucking door, then,” Daniel snarled.

  Picking up his clothing, John glared at Daniel as he strode to the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Can I get you anything? Food? Water?” He stared Daniel down, his eyes like steel. “Just ring if you need anything. You know what you have to do to get it.” With that, he vanished through the exit, flipping off the lights as he went.

  Daniel was left in the dark, his heart pounding and his breath ragged. No. He wouldn’t change anyone.

  One monster in New York was more than enough.

  Chapter Four

  His captors didn’t leave him alone for long. Within minutes, a woman in scrubs appeared, armed with a needle and various tubes for drawing blood. Daniel bared his teeth, allowing his cat to shine through his eyes. She flinched, her gaze widening. />
  “Behave, Daniel, or we’ll put you out again,” John’s voice warned from outside the door.

  For reply, he lunged at the poor woman, straining against his manacles.

  She shrieked, dropped her supplies, and took off.

  No, he wouldn’t behave. They were holding him captive, and now wanted to treat him like a damned lab rat? Fat fucking chance.

  The door opened, and a black-clad form entered the room. He raised a pistol, a dart flew, and Daniel felt a sharp sting in his abdomen…then he knew no more.

  An indeterminable amount of time later, he woke to someone offering him water. Thirst forced him to drink a bit, but then he turned his head, refusing anything further. Who knew what his drink might have been spiked with.

  John wandered in after a bit more time had passed. “We tried your blood,” he said in a casual voice. “No effect.”

  It seemed pointless to reply.

  “You won’t bite me,” John went on. “You’re stubborn. So…we’ll let you go.”

  Daniel glowered with dark suspicion as his boss took a key to his manacles. His arms dropped free, muscles screaming in protest. John stuck his hands in his pockets, gave him a half-smile, and sauntered from the cell.

  Untrusting, Daniel watched the door, positive something was about to happen. An ambush. A trap. More tranquilizer darts.

  But nothing. The hallway outside was quiet, the whole area silent as a tomb. He rubbed his wrists, soothing the abraded flesh. Creeping toward the door, Daniel stood still and listened hard for a full count of ninety.

  There. Someone’s breath. He tensed, keeping himself still for another long minute.

  A murmur. The slight shuffle of a body shifting position.

  Bastards.

  Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin when John reappeared at the door. “Well?”

  “You’ve got men waiting out there,” Daniel spat. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing.”

  John shrugged. “Fine. Boys?”

  Four figures entered the room, their faces covered in masks and their torsos swathed with Kevlar. Daniel crouched, his eyes darting from man to man. Already they were taking fighting stances, their bodies swaying as they prepared for the encounter. It wasn’t often he had to fight hand-to-hand—not in this form. But shifting wasn’t an option.

  One of them rushed forward. Daniel met him head on, his arms wrapping around his attacker.

  A sudden shock pierced through him, and Daniel yelped. One of the other assholes had tased him while he was distracted. “Come on!” someone jeered. “Change!”

  So that was it. Daniel gritted his teeth, determined to give as good as he got. He swung his attacker around, bowling him into one of the other two. John stepped out of the way, looking for all the world like he was avoiding a child’s soccer ball.

  Two of the pricks went down in a messy heap. Daniel loosed a yell as the crackle of electricity hit him once more. He whirled, fists swinging. One of the two had a knife out, and the other brandished the stun gun. Giving them no time to think, Daniel rushed the one holding the taser and snatched at the asshole’s wrist. A knife to his ribs made him grunt with pain, but he kept his hold on the taser, determined to wrest it away. A maddened yell filled the room as he bent the poor son of a bitch’s hand back. Daniel wasn’t sure if it was him or his victim making the noise.

  The taser slipped free, and Daniel grabbed for it, then aimed it at the neck of the one who’d knifed him. He was rewarded with a shriek of pain.

  The two he’d sent sprawling were clambering up. Gripping the taser, Daniel allowed his cat to surface, and gave a mighty roar. They flinched, and Daniel charged.

  But before he could do more than aim the taser at the nearest, another dart plunged into his neck, and he faded into blackness.

  When he woke, he was restrained again, his head aching and his vision blurred. Instead of being upright, though, he was manacled to heavy chains bolted to the floor.

  “Prisoner is awake,” came a quiet voice outside the cell.

  A few minutes later, the door opened. A man brought in two bowls, one filled with water, the other brimming with what looked like canned beef stew. Daniel’s stomach voiced its eagerness, but the humiliation of being fed like a pet was too much. He eyed his captor, his lips curling back in a low snarl.

  Time passed. Hours? Daniel had no way of knowing for sure. Eventually he gave in and ate from the bowl, picking out chunks of stringy meat with his fingers. Whatever they’d brought for him, it wasn’t meant for humans, that much he could tell. But he was hungry, and it was food. Being snobbish wouldn’t help his strength.

  He lifted the other bowl to his lips to drink. They’d put a bucket in the corner; when he felt the urge, he used it. After a while, he fell asleep, then woke to more food.

  So it continued. Eat, void. Sleep, pace. Inspect the cell, rattle the door. But nothing ever changed. He was a prisoner, and his jailers didn’t seem to care what he did. Every few feedings, the person who brought him food also took the bucket away and returned it empty.

  They fed him six times before John reappeared. “Ready yet?”

  “You’re just going to keep me here until I change my mind?”

  John shrugged. “You’re a cheap prisoner.”

  Daniel gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to lunge at John and tear out his throat. “I’ve worked for you for sixteen years. Five times as long as most of your guys. And this is how you treat me?”

  “Like you said, Daniel. Most of my guys only last a couple of years before someone ices them. This could cut down on turnover, help my guys live longer.” John gave him a hard glare as he headed for the door. “It’s selfish of you not to help us out.”

  Daniel shook his head. “It’s a curse.”

  “It’s only a curse if you don’t want it.” The cell door shut behind him, leaving Daniel alone once more.

  * * *

  It had been days, he knew that for certain. If they were feeding him twice a day, then a full week had passed. He was losing count. Sixteen feedings? Less? More?

  His brain was starting to fuzz around the edges. John’s visits were sporadic, but he usually came with a few companions, all of them armed. Daniel’s ability to heal was being strained, his skin tender and sore. Dried blood splotched the floor, macabre stains that advertised what they’d done to him. Would they ever be able to get the stains out?

  The door inched open.

  Daniel closed his eyes and braced for the pain. Last time, they’d begun with his hands.

  “Here,” came a quiet voice. “Drink.”

  Surprised, he opened his eyes. “Blondie,” he rasped. The receptionist from the basement held out a water bottle.

  “Thought you’d enjoy some water that didn’t come from a stagnant bowl,” she said. “Here. We don’t have much time.”

  “What? Not much time?” He took the bottle and twisted it open with shaking hands. It was harder than it should have been.

  “I roofied the guard. He’s out, and I have a van upstairs. I’m getting you out of here.”

  The water was chill and delicious. He drank, draining the bottle in seconds. “Holy hell.” He panted when he’d finished.

  “Good?”

  “Way good.” Nothing had ever tasted better.

  “They’ve been drugging you,” she said. “I figured pure water would taste pretty awesome. Ready?” She produced a key and unlocked the cuffs.

  “Tell me why you’re doing this.” Daniel massaged his wrists. “Why would you help me?”

  “We don’t have much time. You can come with me now, or you can stay here and hope Dearborn doesn’t get bored with the idea that you’ll eventually turn one of them. You’re not gonna do it. You know it, I know it, and it’s only a matter of time before John realizes it, too.”

  Daniel pursed his lips, then gave a quick nod. What did he have to lose? “Lead the way.”

  Blondie dug into a backpack Daniel hadn’t noticed before.
She produced clothing—Kevlar vest, black pants, army boots. Everything the other guards had worn. Obviously for him. He shrugged into the outfit, struggling with the boot laces. Exhausted didn’t begin to cover it.

  “Let me.” Blondie’s nimble fingers made quick work of the task. “Can you stay quiet?”

  He nodded. She gestured, and he followed her from the cell.

  They weren’t in the basement of the downtown building. He’d wondered, but looking around now, this was a facility he hadn’t seen before. Blondie moved quickly and confidently, even nodding to a few people as they made their way through an industrial hallway.

  It disgusted Daniel to see how easy it was to walk out and climb into a van. Not once were they questioned, or even given a second glance. John isn’t running a great operation here, he thought with contempt.

  Once Blondie shut the van door and started the engine, he said, “I have some questions.”

  “I’ll answer anything you want,” she said. “But before we get into that, is there anything you have at your house that can’t be replaced? Or can we get going?”

  “No, there’s nothing. Shit. Wait.” His phone. The one with the pictures of Meredith. “Yes. There’s something.”

  She bit her lip. “A cell phone?”

  His heart dropped. “Yes. How do you know about it?”

  “Because they have it.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line.

  “Go back,” he said tersely. “Turn around. I can’t let them keep that phone.”

  “Not a chance. Erase it remotely.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I do,” she said softly. “What’s her name?”

  “None of your business,” he snarled.

  She gave a small nod. “That’s probably safer.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes. Daniel’s mind raced, his fingernails digging into his palms. They knew about his daughter. He had to warn them, had to get them to leave Windham.

  “They searched your house,” she said, filling the silence. “They found the phone.”

  He said nothing.

  Her fingers kneaded the steering wheel. “Daniel—”

  “Not interested,” he growled softly. How in the hell was he going to reach his daughter first? He combed through facts in search of what they might now know. That he had someone in his life that he cared for, for certain. They’d probably guess it was a daughter, because of the plethora of pictures and her progression through the years. But there was nothing else. No address, no name. No geo-tagging on the photos—he’d taught his mother how to turn that off. He calmed a bit. Maybe things were less dire than he’d imagined.