by D. Fischer
Blown away by the feeling of truth, I suck in a breath. Agent Smith looks at me pointedly. “All truth,” I say aloud. “Though I feel like this was sneaky wording.”
Evo stares at Kenner for a few moments, neither man backing down in his posture.
Begrudgingly, Evo gets up and leaves, slamming the door on his exit. Agent Smith and I walk out of the observation room to an angry Evo telling a man in uniform that Kenner is free to go.
“You’re just releasing him?” I ask.
Evo turns to face us. He gestures us back into the observation room and leaves the door open. His angry expression and emotion should be frightening but, oddly, I don’t feel scared of him.
“I have no choice. He’s right, the FBI has no evidence aside from witnesses saying they saw him talking to the missing women.”
“Then why on earth did you call me here?” I throw my hands in the air.
Just as the words leave my mouth, Kenner walks by the observation room with guards leading him away. Our eyes catch each other’s at the same time. He smirks a half smile. It is an arrogant evil smile that makes my stomach roll.
“I didn’t call you here for his truths and lies to become evidence,” Evo says, catching my attention again. “No offense, Ms. Goldwin, but your testimony wouldn’t hold up in court. Human lie detectors can’t be used as evidence. Especially when such a person has absolutely no real training in that line of work.”
I growl, “Insulting me will get you nowhere, Agent Johnson.”
His jaw tightens as his eyes narrow. “It’s not my intention to insult you. I believe everything you told me tonight during the interrogation. I called you here because I wanted to confirm my own suspicions.”
I return his glare. Even though I knew he spoke the truth, telling me how unimportant I am to the legal world still stings. “Right, well, since you’re no longer in need of my services, I’ll see myself out.”
I march out of the observation room and down the hall, my heels clicking on the white floor in a steady beat. As I near the door, I hear another door shut behind me. Turning, I see Evo jog up to me. I quirk an eyebrow.
Reaching my side, Evo explains, “I’ll be escorting you to the car. The world may not have evidence that Chris Kenner is abducting people, or worse, but you and I know better. The last thing we need is to have him see you unaccompanied.”
“How gentleman-like of you,” I snap.
In silence, we walk into the main lobby. Kenner has already disappeared, but I can still feel his lingering wrongness.
Evo holds the door open for me and I grunt my thanks as I walk through.
“Look, Ms. Goldwin,” Evo begins, rubbing a hand through his short hair. The slightly tousled short hair just adds to his attraction. I watch in fascination as his muscles ripple and his slightly raised shirt shows a very promising lower abdomen.
No! I chastise myself. No ogling the FBI property.
“Kenna,” I correct him. Ms. Goldwin makes me sound like I am a fifty-year-old woman with nine cats, and Makenna is a mouthful.
He smiles as he tries out my nickname. “–Kenna—look, I didn’t mean to jump down your throat in there. I’m under a lot of stress, and sometimes I unload that stress onto others.”
He seems like he wants to say more, possibly ask me a question, but he never does. I feel him fight with his emotions. Some are confusing to me as they flit through like a video on fast forward.
I just stare at him. Stress is no excuse. I’m well versed in stressful situations, and I don’t go around spreading my bad attitude. He needs to muster up a mind to mouth filter.
Evo clears his throat when I don’t acknowledge his apology. “Which car is yours?” he asks.
I begin walking again, heading toward my hunk of junk. It isn’t the most professional car, but it sure beats not having one at all. It took me months to save up for another car when my last beater took a dump.
As I put my key in the car and unlock it, I see in my peripheral vision that he is rocking back and forth on his heels, clearly on the verge of saying what he has been battling himself about.
I turn to him, my hair whipping me in my face. “Spit it out, Agent Johnson.”
He smiles at my blunt attitude. “Are you hungry?” he asks, rocking back on his heels and holding the pose. He’s nervous about how I will take his question.
I gape like a fish. Is this guy trying to ask me out? Sure, he may be gorgeous, but the dude just insulted what I do for a living.
I step closer to him which clearly is a mistake. Now that we are away from the burnt coffee smell, I can pick up his scent. He smells amazing, tickling my insides. I can’t pinpoint what the smell is, but it’s pure masculinity with an edge of wildness.
“I don’t know who taught you how to pick up women, Agent Romeo, but let me give you some advice. You don’t ask a girl out within minutes of insulting her.”
“Call me Evo.”
I roll my eyes. “Look, I’m exhausted and these heels are killing me.” I open my car door and dig in the center compartment. “Here, this is my card. If you need my services again, you can reach me here.”
“Mm-hmm. And if I want to try asking you out again?” he asks with a wicked-hot grin that licks my insides. I can feel his arousal for me beat against my own skin, adding to my already liquidity. I need to get away from this guy before we both do something we will regret by morning.
He leans toward me and I swear he takes a sniff. I freeze, trying to remember if I put on deodorant this morning. His grin grows wider. How odd. What a fucked-up evening I’m having.
“I will keep asking you out, Kenna. Eventually, you will say yes. I always get my way. You’re a conundrum to me and I enjoy a good puzzle.”
I gulp. “Right. Well. I’m ah … I’m gonna go now. It was nice meeting you, Evo.”
Effectively dismissing him, I hop in the car and roll down my windows. The heat from the day makes my car stifling.
Roaring the engine to life, I leave the parking space and glance at my rearview mirror as Evo walks back into the police station, a smug smile on his face. I take a deep breath, not realize I’m holding it.
Chapter Two
Makenna Goldwin
Entering my little apartment, I kick my door shut and quickly survey my surroundings, making certain everything is as I left it. I had locked the door when I went to the police station, but you just never know. Paranoid, I know, but after the interrogation this evening, I’m still feeling a little edgy. These sorts of things don’t usually affect me. I’ve always had the ability to be calm during a crisis. There was something about Chris Kenner that had me and my alter ego on edge.
My apartment is neat and tidy. The only thing I don’t accept from myself is disorganization. I like having everything just so, and I don’t like to leave things unfinished. It makes me feel more put together than I know I am.
My furniture is centered around my T.V. and all my papers are stacked in neat piles. There’s not a single dirty dish in the sink or leftover food laying on the counter.
My apartment contains the bare essentials—a sofa, TV, a small dining room table, and a bed. I can’t afford anything else and honestly, I don’t need more than I have.
I slip off my heels and walk to my trash can, dumping them inside with a loud thump. Never again will I talk myself into looking professional for other people’s benefit. If they don’t think I can be a private investigator in more practical clothes, then they aren’t someone I want to work with. It’s not like business is booming. Most of my clients are just your average Joe and Jane.
I don’t even know how Evo came across my business card. Being a referral only, my client list is small and I consider my office to be the couch in front of my TV.
Waiting for the microwave to finish cooking my frozen meal, I drum my fingers on my small counter. My anxiety is beginning to make me fidgety.
There’s something about Evo. I don’t have a
clue who he is aside from being an FBI agent. I didn’t see a wedding ring on his finger, so I know he doesn’t have a woman at home. The last thing I need is to be labeled a home-wrecker. Not that I want to have sex with him. Oh no—I never once thought about licking his skin to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Or running my hands over his body to see if his muscles were as hard as they looked. Or unzipping his pants with my teeth to see if his bulge …
No! I scold myself, giving my head a shake to clear the erotic images. My alter ego feels smug about my train of thought. It seems she has a thing for the blond hunk. I’m doing my best to ignore her urges, but it’s proving difficult when my own thoughts wander in that direction as well.
I sit down on my couch with my meal, switching my thoughts to tonight’s main event.
Kenner is something to worry about. Sadism was oozing from his pores. I’m certain he had taken those women. What I wasn’t certain of, was what he was doing with them. A man with sociopathic tendencies doesn’t just abduct women for fun.
I just have to hope it will blow over. He doesn’t know my name and this isn’t even my investigation, but yet, my insides are crawling. As my anxiety kicks into high gear, I know what this means.
The doctors call it anxiety attacks but I know, deep down, it’s much more than that. Not only does my stomach feel like it’s being raked from the inside out, but she tends to start having extreme emotions and meltdowns that don’t quite fit the situation. When I get angry with someone or have a tiny bit of fear, she reacts and her thoughts drown out my own. I can’t function normally in any dangerous situation. I can’t even find someone attractive without her emotional input. It’s like having two of me inside my head—my alter ego and me—but I have no control over the thoughts and feelings that aren’t my own. If her emotions are extreme enough, the pain begins, and it takes everything I have, plus prescribed medication, to subdue them.
Right now, she feels as if I’m left unprotected, which is odd but true. If an intruder comes crashing through my door, it will be only me defending myself. Not that I’m not capable.
If I give in to this panic attack, or whatever this is, my alter ego is completely sure she can keep me safe. I can feel her pacing inside me, restless at being unprotected. I try to reassure her with rational thoughts, but occasionally it’s like talking to a brick wall. It sounds insane, even to me. So I fight it. Every time I fight it, I get the mother of all migraines along with intense abdominal pain.
I groan and double over. Food flies off my spoon as it hits the ground with an audible clank against my now stained carpet. Feeling like my insides are being ripped to shreds with knives, I quickly grab my pills on the edge of the coffee table. Hands shaking, I scoop a double dose of prescribed migraine medicine and my prescribed anxiety medicine into my hand and swallow them without water. It doesn’t take long before it kicks in and I’m out like a light.
Evo Johnson
Shutting my car door, I’m greeted by a familiar scent. I turn around and see Ben leaning against my car, his arms folded across his chest. His short black hair blows in the slight breeze. I note he’s only in a pair of shorts. “Perimeter run?”
Ben is my Beta of the Cloven Pack. He and I are always the last ones in before the night watch comes on duty. Part of his job when I’m away is acting as Alpha for the Pack. He takes his job very seriously. I consider him to be a workaholic because when I return, he gives me a full report, never missing a beat.
“Dyson just took over perimeter before you pulled in. How’d it go? Were you able to get ahold of the witch?”
That’s the funny thing about Packs – we never keep anything from each other. There’s no point. What one member does from day to day affects the whole Pack because we operate as one unit. The entire Pack knows if someone leaves the property, where they’re going, and with whom they are meeting. They’ve probably spent the entire evening discussing what I was doing while I was gone.
My eyebrows pull together in irritation.
“What?” Ben asks.
“I don’t think Makenna Goldwin is a witch.”
Ben huffs and shifts his weight. “And why do you think that? Is she not an empath?” He bases his opinions on facts instead of speculation. It’s this trait that makes him a great Beta, but not such a great people-person.
I lean against the car with him, scanning the trees out of habit. “She had no idea I was a wolf shifter. She would have known and confronted me about it when we first met. There’s something more about her and I just can’t set my finger on it. She smells different.” Not to mention my wolf stands at attention when she’s near like some whipped puppy. I’m not going to tell Ben that, though. The last thing I need is to have him go digging for more information about her before I have the chance to myself.
Her scent was intoxicating. No way am I going to mention that to Ben, either. I’d never hear the end of it, lusting after a human. Gifted human or not, we don’t mix species. The wolf community survives on secrecy, and dating a human threatens that. I consider it irresponsible.
We stand in silence for a little while, breathing in the cool air. “What do you think she is? And what did the FBI need help with this time?” Ben asks, considering the matter carefully.
Ignoring his first question because I’m still working that out myself, I give him a brief rundown. Confidential information is never wise to keep from your Pack, especially if it involves wolf shifters. That, and Ben will hound me until I give him details. He can be aggravating like that.
Once upon a time, I had been an FBI agent. After a brief call from my sister, I discovered what my father was doing to the Pack, came home, and challenged him for the Alpha position which ended with his death.
He had been a cruel leader and was financially, physically, and emotionally running the Pack into the ground. Killing him had made me Alpha. With this new responsibility, my career in the FBI had effectively ended. But from time to time, I would help the agency if there wasn’t an interrogator in the area.
“They think some guy is abducting people all over the country.”
Ben looks at me. “I see. And is he?”
“Yes, but there’s no real proof.” I rub my hands over my face. “That’s not all. He’s a Rogue.”
Ben sucks in a breath. “Shit.”
Rogues are wolf shifters who have no Pack. Whether they choose that life on their own or have no choice but to leave their Pack, most of the time they turn into a beast, both man and wolf. Some can cope without the support of a Pack—some even prefer it—but most become maniacs.
“What information do you have?” Ben asks, straightening his posture and switching to full Beta mode.
“He’s abducting women. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why or what he’s doing with them. Completely innocent people, randomly selected, all attending bars. Their friends see him talking to the victim and then poof, they disappear before the night is over. He was completely deranged, Ben. Any wolf that sat at a police station for crimes that could expose the shifters should be sweating. Instead, he found his situation humorous and tried provoking me.” I look at him. “Do me a favor. Check out this Chris Kenner. See what Pack he was originally from and what you can figure out as to why he no longer belongs to one.”
Ben nods and heads for the house at a jog. House is putting it mildly. It’s a mansion on the outside but holds several living quarters on the inside. The mansion exterior is meant to look like one giant home for human eyes.
The mansion has white siding, a black shingled roof, and a large shaded front porch with pillars. We replaced the landscape last year with new rock and vegetation, making the home more inviting. Kelsey, one of our wolves, does very well with the upkeep.
The Cloven Pack has only one mated couple and five other unmated wolves, besides me. When I challenged my father and won, a few mated pairs felt free enough to leave and begin a new life in a different Pack. There were no hard feelings whatsoev
er. Bad memories had been created under my father’s reign. He had ruled with violence, creating fear and little respect. I wouldn’t hold it against anyone for wanting to get away from the reminder of him.
Taking a deep breath, I try to let go of some of the tension left in my shoulders. Kenner is enough of a distraction, but the only thing my mind and wolf can seem to focus on is Makenna.
She baffles me. Her scent is off for a human, but I am sure she isn’t a witch. Witches always know when they are in the presence of a shifter and are always bold enough to say so. Not that Makenna wasn’t bold. She had a wicked tongue, but I know she has no idea I was a wolf.
She’s sexy as hell, too. I could tell she was uncomfortable in her professional attire, which made me wonder what she preferred to wear. Her long brown hair is wavy and her deep brown eyes are inviting, totally opposite to her prickly attitude. She isn’t tiny, but I can tell she is toned with curves in all the right places.
So, if she’s not a witch and doesn’t smell totally human, what is she? And why can’t I get her off my mind?
Makenna Goldwin
I wake to my phone ringing.
Peaking open one eye, I glance at the clock on the cable box below the TV. It’s past noon. I slept on the couch the entire night and morning. That usually happens when I’m forced to take my migraine pills. Which seems to be a lot lately and the couch isn’t always the most comfortable place to sleep.
I’m not entirely convinced that what I’m dealing with is anxiety. With feeling like there’s two of me in my own mind, I’m positive multi-personality disorder sounds more accurate.