by C. J. Barry
“Why didn’t you invite me along?” she managed to say, although she heard her voice crack.
“Why didn’t you invite me to Riley’s funeral?” he said and pressed his thumb firmly into her skin. She inhaled sharply at the pressure.
“I didn’t think—”
He moved even closer, his face nearly touching hers.
“I didn’t think you’d want to go,” she finished.
“You were wrong.”
Suddenly, her vision changed and he began to disappear into a strange darkness. She heard herself gasp as his Shifter shadow rose up, enveloped her, blocking out all sound, smell, and sights. And then she felt something unfold in her mind, a flash of a scene that wasn’t hers, voices, sounds. She tried to block it out, but it was like it was inside her. Panic swamped her.
“Stop it,” she hissed, and struggled to free herself.
Reality crashed through as Dempsey abruptly let her go and stepped back, breaking the connection. Seneca’s heart was racing as she stumbled out of the doorway and out onto the sidewalk. The night sky shimmered above, and she inhaled cold air as she walked, trying to sort through a flood of questions. What was he doing to her? Or was it her? Did her abilities make her more vulnerable to Shifter thoughts? Oh God. She didn’t need or deserve that.
Dempsey cut in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “What just happened?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. Nothing I want to talk about with you. Or anyone.
“You’re shook up. Something happened.”
That was a mistake. All of it, whatever it was. She brushed her hair out of her face with a trembling hand. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.” She tried to pass by him, but he stopped her by snagging her arm. She winced at the touch and shook free. She was not about to have another schizophrenic episode with him.
“Why did you really follow me here, Seneca?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes, looking away to the safety of the city. “I didn’t trust you, although that shouldn’t surprise you.”
“It doesn’t.”
She looked at him then. His eyes flashed incandescent for a brief moment, and she remembered why she didn’t trust him. You don’t belong here.
“I don’t give a damn what you and your Shifter friend do together. Whether or not you are gay. What you do in your spare time. You’re right. It’s none of my business.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
She sighed. “I said, you’re right—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Before that. How do you know he’s a Shifter? I didn’t tell you that.”
Seneca felt her stomach drop. Oh, damn. “Lucky guess.”
Dempsey studied her. “I don’t think so. You knew he was a Shifter. How?”
She blew out a breath. One stupid slip. Two days ago her world was normal. Well, at least as normal as it could be. How could everything fall apart so fast? Who in the great cosmos did she piss off?
Dempsey asked, “Can you see Shifters?”
Perfect. Just perfect. Well, Riley had known and MacGregor sort of knew. What was one more? “A little.”
Dempsey shook his head. “You either do or you don’t.”
“So I do,” she snapped. “So what?”
For a moment, he just stared at her. “That explains a lot.”
She frowned. “Like what?”
“Like why you’re the best agent XCEL has.”
“No, I’m just extremely good,” she said.
He asked, “Are there others like you?”
“In XCEL, are you kidding?”
“Anywhere,” he persisted.
“There is no one like me,” she said, through clenched teeth.
“I noticed,” Dempsey said. “Did Riley know this?”
“Yes. But no one else knows,” she said. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”
His eyes narrowed. “Of course. Wouldn’t want the whole world to ostracize you.”
It occurred to her that he’d been around humans too long. He knew exactly what would happen to her if the other XCEL agents found out.
“Are we done here?” she asked. “Because I’ve had all the excitement I can handle for one night.”
He stepped aside to last her pass.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and escaped to her car at the end of the block.
Max pounded the heavy bag for all he was worth, nearly knocking Apollo off his feet. The sound echoed across the quiet boxing hall in the middle of the afternoon.
“Venting much?” Apollo asked as he held the bag in place.
“You have no idea,” Max answered and landed another brutal punch that jolted his entire body. He was covered with sweat and hadn’t even begun to shake the lingering remnants of last night.
“How’s your partner?” Apollo asked, and grimaced when Max nailed the bag again.
“Just great.”
“Well, she must be something because I haven’t seen you this worked up since, well, never.”
Max hit the bag hard, sending pain up his arm. Seneca was at the funeral that she hadn’t invited him to right now. She had told Riley about her Shifter sight, but she hadn’t planned to tell him. And she followed him because she didn’t trust him? Granted, his expectations of humans were pretty damn low, but she was supposed to be his partner. Apparently, it was in name only.
“Unless . . . You two hook up last night?” Apollo said with a grin.
Max eyed him. He really didn’t need the reminder of Seneca’s scent, Seneca’s skin, Seneca’s warmth ingrained in his brain and body any more than it was. “No, I haven’t slept with her. I seriously doubt she’d have me.”
“You never know until you try.”
Right. He unleashed a reckless volley on the bag, his arms burning. “And tell me how many women you would have slept with if you’d told them what you were?”
Apollo grinned. “More than you.”
Max grunted. “You can’t fool Seneca.” He jammed his glove into the bag, feeling the reverberation through his bones. “She can see Shifters.”
Apollo nearly lost his grip on the heavy bag. “You’re shittin’ me? She told you that?”
Eventually, and only after I caught her. Which explained why she was such a good agent on paper. Couple that with the fact that she hated Shifters, and she was perfect for XCEL. He clenched his teeth and gave the bag a merciless uppercut. “She picked out Carl.”
“Hell,” Apollo said, his eyes widening. “Did she make the connection between him and the government?”
Pound, pound, pound. “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. She’s smart.”
“Among other things. This bag can’t take much more,” Apollo said with a laugh.
Apollo had a death wish today. Max dropped his gloves, feeling as drained as he was going to get. “I’ve got bigger things to deal with. We have a Skinman in town.”
Apollo let go of the heavy bag and shook out his arms. “I’m surprised it took this long for one to surface. Do you know where he set up shop?”
“Underground. He’s harvesting the homeless.”
“Now, there’s some good, healthy DNA for you,” Apollo said. “I’m assuming you think he’s the traitor slash murderer?”
Max held out one glove for Apollo to unlace. “I’ll let you know when I visit him.”
“You and what army? You know he’ll have protection.”
Skinmen were the only Shifters who could afford bodyguards. The rest were on their own. “Luckily, Seneca is all fired up to keep him from soiling the pristine human race. So not only will I have to take out him and all his friends; I’ll have to keep her alive.”
Apollo pulled off the glove he’d just unlaced. “Wow, keeping the hot babe safe. Sounds like you kinda like her.”
“I still have one glove on, bud,” Max said.
Apollo laughed. “If you need help, you know where to find me.”
Max unlaced the other one himself. “I thought you didn’t want to get inv
olved?”
He shrugged. “Who else can I box against? These guys are all soft.”
Max shook his head. Apollo might act like the universe revolved around him, but Max knew better. Surviving genocide had a way of binding people together. He pulled off his other glove, slung his towel over his shoulders, and headed for the lockers. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
Apollo walked next to him. “You won’t call me.”
“I might.” Or not. Max had decided long ago that he’d die to avenge Ell’s murder, but he wouldn’t take anyone with him—not Apollo, not Carl. The Shifter race was doomed to die out anyway. He’d just beat the rush.
They stopped at their respective lockers to change out of their workout clothes.
Apollo asked, “Have you told Seneca about all this yet?”
Max pulled off his soaked shirt. “No, and I don’t plan to. It doesn’t involve her.”
“Except the part that this is her planet and these are her people and you both work for the same agency. Other than that, she’s out of the loop.”
“I can’t trust her with this information,” Max said. Especially since she wasn’t trusting him with any of hers. This was turning into a hell of a partnership.
Apollo shook his head. “I don’t know, man. This could get ugly.”
“Everything’s ugly. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“You know what I mean.”
Yes, he knew what Apollo meant, which was exactly why Max was better off with nothing left to lose.
Apollo hiked his gym bag over his shoulder. “I’m serious. You need me, you call me. We had a deal. No matter how crazy I think you are.”
Max smiled and slammed the locker shut. The deal was made between Carl, Max, and Apollo when they escaped a burning ship. Day or night, they were there to cover for one another. He hated to be the one to break the pact, but he was going to.
“Of course,” he said and slapped Apollo on the back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Seneca stood outside Max’s apartment door for a full minute before knocking. As much as she didn’t want to intrude into his personal life . . . Eh, scratch that. She did, but after last night, she was going to be a lot more careful about it. For her own sake, she had decided to stay at least three feet away from Max Dempsey at all times. Except that he was her partner, which complicated things a bit.
She knocked again, harder this time. “Come on, Dempsey. I don’t have all day.”
At that moment, the door swung open and her brain cells kind of all froze at once from the shock of Dempsey with a towel around his hips, held up by one hand. The rest of him was wet and really nicely humanoid. Wide shoulders, deep chest, narrow hips and . . . She suddenly realized that she was working her way down, and he knew it.
“I could have been the Avon lady,” she said, dragging her eyes back to his.
“The Avon lady doesn’t smell anything like you,” he replied, his expression smug.
A fine time for her mouth to go dry. She licked her lips. “Bart gave us a location on Dillinger. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer your cell phone or home phone.”
His eyes never left hers, but his mouth was curving. “Shower.”
“I can see that,” she said, her voice cracking. Smooth. “You’re wet.” Oh, just shut up, Seneca.
Dempsey broke into an all-male smile, and she silently cursed herself. “I brought the van. We need to set up a stakeout. Bring your jammies.”
He didn’t move. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d actually spoken over the pounding of her heart. Finally, he nodded. “Come on in.”
He opened the door for her, and she tried not to look like she was taking in every detail of his place.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he said as he disappeared through a doorway at one end of the apartment.
She scanned the sparse furnishings. No sign of company, but just in case. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any . . . one,” she called out.
From the other room, he replied, “You didn’t.”
Good. Not that she cared.
She walked around the furnishings and peered through the open doorway where he’d gone. Over the corner of a bed, she caught his reflection in a mirror as he opened his closet. All she could see were bare back, shoulders, and thick biceps before she stopped herself and shook her head.
What was the matter with her? Ever since last night, she’d been on edge. Maybe that little turd Price was right. She needed a date. Just not with him.
She turned her attention to Dempsey’s apartment. A brown sofa, two matching chairs, one lamp, and a coffee table took up most of the living room. A small kitchen occupied the other end and an island formed the dining area. The walls were white and bare. Clean and simple and sterile.
Then she frowned. A little too sterile. No personal touches. No throw pillows or pictures or artwork. It felt . . . temporary. A lot like a hotel room, in fact. She wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge to find milk, bread, and beer.
“Men,” she murmured and closed the door. An unexpected flash of color drew her to a long silver necklace with a brilliant blue stone that hung from a hook over the kitchen sink.
Seneca touched the stone, surprised by its brilliance and light weight. It wasn’t lapis or azurite or any other blue stone she’d ever seen. She rubbed her thumb across the smooth surface and felt the stone give a little under the pressure. Amazing. The chain was a simple design but innately delicate—for a woman. So whose was it and why was it the only decoration in Dempsey’s place?
“Ready?”
She jumped at Dempsey’s sharp tone, nearly knocking the necklace from its hook, and spun around to find him standing directly behind her. She didn’t need any special abilities to sense the irritation that radiated from him. Why? Because she was in his kitchen?
“Don’t your people have a saying about curiosity killing something?” he said, his voice flat.
“Cats,” she replied with a careless wave. “Doesn’t apply to me.”
Dempsey grabbed his coat. “Nothing seems to apply to you, Seneca.”
She winced at the terse response. What button had she just pushed? She gave the necklace a final glance; answers would have to wait for another day. Then she followed him out of the apartment. He locked the door behind them and turned to face her, his face a little too close and his voice a little too polite.
“Let’s go, partner,” he said and cruised past her.
Seneca blew out a breath as she watched him retreat. Great. She’d pissed him off, and she didn’t even know how. Dempsey was more human than she’d imagined. He definitely had issues, and she wasn’t looking forward to the next eight to ten hours trapped in a van with them.
Seneca checked a new message on her phone. “We can move at any time. The prep crew just finished clearing the building residents and most of the neighbors.”
Max scanned the dark, quiet street. They were parked half a block from a three-story building east of Conover Avenue in Red Hook. Dillinger was inside in the third-floor, left- side apartment.
Max asked, “How do they get them out?”
Seneca picked up the night vision binoculars from the van dashboard and pointed them at the apartment building. “Probably told them there was a gas leak. Should keep everyone away for a few hours.”
Max shook his head. What they went through to protect their secrets. “Do you think your government will ever come clean and make this public so we don’t need to sneak around?”
“Not unless they have to.”
“Do you agree with that?”
“No.”
Maybe there was hope for her yet. “How was the funeral?”
“Far away. We aren’t supposed to attend. Violates our security, but—”
“He was your partner.”
“Yes.” She lowered the binoculars to look at him. “You could have attended too.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t need to be there.” He didn’t want to tel
l her that he was too busy working her out of his system. “You’re sure Dillinger is still in there?”
She nodded, and looked through the binoculars. “All the exits are being watched by other agents. So when our boy’s lights go off, we can get moving.”
“We could move now. He can see in the dark anyway,” Max reminded her.
“Yes, but I always prefer to rouse them from a sound sleep before I shoot them.”
“You aren’t like most women, Seneca,” Max said, laughing despite himself.
She smiled under the binoculars. “And don’t forget it.”
Like he could if he wanted. Max adjusted his position in the driver’s seat for the fifteenth time in the past six hours. Despite the hard workout, he still had a lot of pent-up energy. Sitting next to Seneca wasn’t helping the situation. Seeing her with Ell’s necklace . . . He was surprised by how fast he’d reacted. He had to learn to control himself, or Seneca was going to suspect he wasn’t really here for the good of mankind.
And to that end, he turned his concentration to capturing a bad Shifter—his first chance to prove to Seneca and the rest of XCEL that he was worth something. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, he’d decided the only way he could gain their trust was to prove his value and dedication. Right up until he didn’t need XCEL anymore.
The building schematics had been e-mailed to them, and Max paged through the notes on his phone. The building had six units, one set of stairs inside, with a fire escape down the back. A narrow alley lined the left side of the building, and it butted up to another apartment on the right side. No basement. No roof access from the inside. All the floors and apartments had identical layouts.
“No movement inside Dillinger’s apartment, but I can see the flicker of the TV against the walls.” Seneca lowered the binoculars and rolled her neck. “I hope this doesn’t take long. I hate taking down a Shifter when I’m tired.”
He glanced at her. She didn’t look tired. Her hair was long and loose over the full-body black armor suit she wore. It hugged every curve like it was custom-made for her body alone. He wondered who got the lucky fitting job.
He shifted again and said, “By the way, I flashed his photo across most of lower Manhattan last night after you left. No one recognized him.”