by C. J. Barry
She mouthed back, “So?”
Christ, the woman was relentless. Giving up, he shouldered the door open and stepped inside, gun first. The kitchen light was on, and it took only a moment to confirm that the place was empty.
And trashed.
Couch and chair stuffing were strewn across the floor along with pieces of lamps and other furnishings. His laptop was in pieces along the wall. The television had an end table leg rammed through it. The kitchen cabinet doors were ripped off, the contents tossed out, and the countertop damaged. He entered his bedroom. Clothes and bedding lay in heaps. The mattress had been ripped to shreds. The bathroom sink was cracked, and water squirted from the busted showerhead.
And every room had the word “traitor” spray painted on the walls.
“It’s clear,” he said as he joined Seneca in the main room.
Seneca holstered her gun and took in the destruction. “Must have been a hell of a party. You think it was Shifters?”
He walked over to the kitchen and noticed Ell’s necklace lying in the sink. He picked it up and slid it into his jeans pocket. “Positive.”
“Seems quite a coincidence that you were just outed at work today too,” she said.
Yes, it did. Someone knew he was a Shifter working for XCEL. He mentally cataloged the three individual Shifter scents that covered his apartment. Then he turned and moved quickly through the wreckage into his bedroom. The closet door hung on by one hinge and his clothes had been flung from their hangers. He reached under the clothes and found the duffle bag. Seneca had followed him into the bedroom and stood behind him. Carefully, he slid his hand into the false bottom of the duffle. The package was still there. He breathed a sigh of relief and sealed the false bottom. Then he pulled the duffle out and set it on the bed. It was going with him this time.
Seneca said, “You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”
No kidding. He stood up to face her and promptly froze in his tracks. It was dark in his bedroom—she couldn’t see him very well but his vision was perfect, and there was something different in the way she looked at him. Ever since last night, she’d become more approachable, like the Do Not Touch sign had been turned off. As precarious as that felt, it sent a charge through his body that dominated the destruction and the betrayal around him.
“I’ll get a hotel room. Just need to pack some clothes.”
At least that was what he’d planned to do, but at the moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off hers. They were beautiful and clear, without condemnation, without judgment. Almost, with kindness. He hadn’t seen that look in so long.
“Doesn’t this bother you?” she asked quietly.
“They were just things.”
“What about the invasion of privacy?”
Her hair looked silky in the dark, her skin smooth, her voice sexy. His thoughts were heading way out of line. “Nothing I can do about it. However, if they know about me, they might know about you.”
She raised her chin in challenge, but her voice softened. “I doubt it. I’m not a traitor to them.”
Traitor. They had called him a traitor. It was poetic perhaps, but not in a good way. He stepped up to Seneca until he was close enough that she filled his vision. Close enough that her scent overwhelmed the smell of intruders.
“This could prove dangerous to you,” he whispered.
She smiled darkly. “I live for danger.”
He moved closer to her warmth, despite all the reasons why he shouldn’t. “I’m as dangerous as it gets, Seneca. Make no mistake.”
Her eyes widened slightly, her breath quickening. He was close enough that she could see him now, in the darkness. He watched her lips part a little, an invitation she didn’t even realize she was giving him. Heat poured over him, blood pounded in his veins, desire unfurled in his belly. Just one touch . . .
“Max, you in here?”
The stranger’s shout jolted Seneca to the core and drained the heat that had been building in her bones. She pulled her gun, only to feel Dempsey’s hand on hers. He whispered, “He’s a friend.”
And then his heat was gone as he headed to meet whoever it was. An odd disappointment lingered in his wake. What was wrong with her? She didn’t act like this with human men.
And he was an alien, for God’s sake. She should be running for her life. His race was probably used to cavorting with other aliens, but this was all new to her. Unfortunately, her libido didn’t seem to care what he was. In human form, he was all male, all sexy, and all her signals were flashing go.
“I need a date.” She holstered the gun before walking into the living room.
Dempsey was talking to a Shifter in human form—tall, blond, handsome, and built like a Mack truck. His eyebrows rose when he laid eyes on her. She sensed an easy camaraderie between the two men, a past. An old friend.
Dempsey motioned to her. “Apollo, meet Seneca. My partner.”
Apollo gave her a devastating smile as she shook his hand. “Nice to finally meet. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Seneca said, “Really?” Then she looked at Dempsey, who was glaring at his friend. “What have you heard?”
Apollo grinned. “Let’s just say, it’s all true.” Then he turned to Dempsey. “I was gone all day, didn’t see or hear a thing.”
“Probably just as well you weren’t here,” Dempsey said, his tone dry.
Seneca watched him pick up a shredded pillow and toss it aside. How could this not bother him? He treated it like any other day. Maybe it was. Maybe they were all this bad. A pang of compassion came and went. She really had to stop doing that. It was no way for a Shifter hunter to act.
“Were they after something or did they just want to leave you a message?” Apollo asked. “My guess would be traitor.”
The brief look that passed between them mystified Seneca. What was that about?
“I’d ask you to bunk with me, but I like my place. Just the way it is,” Apollo said. “No offense.”
Dempsey half smiled. “None taken. I’ll stay at a hotel. I want to keep this quiet for a while.”
Apollo nodded. “I can see why. You may not be getting your deposit back. Call me later.”
Then he turned to her, lifted her hand, and kissed it. “Very nice meeting you, Seneca. I hope to see you again.”
“Good-bye, Apollo,” Dempsey said.
Apollo winked at her. He left, forcing the busted door closed behind him.
Dempsey headed back to the dark bedroom. Seneca opted to stay put in the living room. It was a little too warm in his bedroom. She licked her dry lips. “So, does he think we’re screwing too?”
“No,” came the reply from the other room.
Quick response. “Why not?”
“He didn’t smell you on me. We aren’t lovers.”
Well, how about that? The only people who knew they weren’t sleeping together were the Shifters. That just wasn’t fair.
Her cell phone rang. It was Bart. She answered, “Thomas here.”
“I got you a location,” Bart said.
“Thirty minutes, the Central Park meeting place?” she asked as Dempsey stepped out of his bedroom with a duffle bag.
“Got it,” and he hung up.
She said to Dempsey, “Bart has Skinman’s location.”
“Good. I have a plan to get close to him.”
She pocketed the cell phone. “Am I included in this plan?”
Dempsey said, “You are definitely part of the plan.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. She would never have to worry about being cold around him. “Can’t wait to hear it.”
He smiled. It wasn’t a lady killer like Apollo’s. It was slow and riveting. “You’ll love it. It’s full of danger.”
CHAPTER TEN
“That’s your plan?”
Max ducked his head against the wind and let Seneca work through the disbelief before replying. Central Park lay silent and somewhat primal at midnight. A half-moon was etched with branches
above. The wind rattled the dead leaves that escaped the few inches of snow, and whistled through the stand of trees where they waited for Bart.
Seneca lowered her voice. “Lovers. That’s the plan you came up with?”
“No, the plan is we pose as lovers. I need a new skin because we want to have a wonderful life together. But we can’t because I’ve done some bad things and need a new identity.” He looked at her. “I thought you’d like the part where you changed my evil ways.”
“Oh, believe me, I adore that part,” she replied. “I’m a little concerned, however, about the part where we prove to the other Shifters that we’re lovers. Can’t we just be good friends?”
He was finding it hard to concentrate every time she said “lovers.” “If we were only friends, I wouldn’t need you along to choose the new face and body that you plan to spend the rest of your life with.”
She processed that for a few seconds, shifting her weight from one foot to the other anxiously. Who would have thought that Seneca Thomas was afraid of anything? Was it the Shifter factor or just commitment in general? Finally, she wrinkled her nose. “If I find out you’re lying about this whole smell thing, Dempsey, you are a dead man.”
“Don’t I know it.” He also knew what was going through her mind. How, exactly, were they going to prove to other Shifters that they were lovers? He didn’t offer, and she didn’t ask again, but the possibilities would keep him up tonight. And that hadn’t happened in a long time, not since Ell . . .
He stopped, surprised that the pain he usually felt at the thought of her didn’t manifest. Part of him was disappointed. He never wanted to forget anything about her. The other part of him was too busy concentrating on Seneca’s every move. The way her hair spun in the breeze, the way she moved closer to him to block out the cold wind. Max turned a little so she was better sheltered.
She whispered, “I know why I’m here, but why are you defying orders to do this? You could blow the whole prototype Shifter agent experiment if you get caught. All for one guy?”
Max paused before answering. How could he tell her that he was on the trail of a Shifter who murdered his wife? That he was only using Seneca and XCEL to find that man? That was what he should do, but the part of him that trusted no one to help him or even give a damn about him refused to budge.
“Skinmen are notorious for killing the locals to stock their inventories. If you let him continue, the body count will rise, and someone’s going to notice.”
She gave him a concerned side-glance. “How many Skinmen are there?”
“On Govan, there was usually one per city. I don’t know here. This city is pretty big.”
Seneca asked, “Then what’s to stop more of them from moving in?”
Max gazed down at her. “How much of a message we send with this one.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding dawning. “And since we are on our own time here—”
“We don’t have to follow the rules,” he finished for her. “There is only one way this will end, Seneca. We need to take them out permanently. Are you okay with that?”
She blew out a breath that evaporated in the breeze. “We may not have much of a choice. Can’t call in backup, can’t call in the cleanup crew. Still . . .”
He couldn’t let her vacillate. Shifters would die. She should be happy about that. “Everyone in Skinman’s posse is harvesting humans, and any one of them is willing to step into his shoes. This will not end unless we end it.”
She nodded a few times, her gaze far away. “I know.”
Then he squinted at her. “I didn’t think it’d be so hard to convince you to kill Shifters.”
Seneca eyed him. “Only some of them.”
Warmth shot through him, despite the cold. She was his partner. She was with him. She trusted him. It was as good as he was going to get. Now, if only Skinman and Ell’s killer were one and the same man, his life would be perfect.
“No one outside XCEL is supposed to know where we live,” Seneca said after a few silent moments. “Our identities, our covers, are highly secure. Families protected. So how did they find your place?”
“I don’t know.” He’d been careful, especially with XCEL. “They could have followed my scent.”
“They could have followed any of our scents,” she said. “I’ll have to tell MacGregor our covers have been compromised. Warn the others.”
“Maybe we’ll get on their good side for that,” Dempsey replied.
Seneca laughed, a deep, throaty laugh. “Your optimism is sweet.”
He leaned into her slightly, into the warmth. “Nothing about me is sweet.”
Her eyes met his as their breaths merged in the cold. For a moment, he was back in his bedroom. Or maybe he was just wishing. “Bart is here.”
Seneca’s eyes widened, and she turned her head to the small man approaching, swearing as he stomped through the trees.
When he finally got close, he said, “We gotta find better places to meet. I ain’t a damn Boy Scout.”
Max shook his bare hand. “Sorry, man.”
He sniffed and nodded to Seneca. “You got the money?”
She smiled. “All business tonight, Bart?”
“I’m freezing my balls off,” he said and took the wad of bills Seneca handed him. Bart gave her a rumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
“Sure you don’t want to come with us?” she said, stuffing the note in her pocket without checking it.
“No way,” Bart sputtered. “This guy has protection. I was lucky to get a location and stay in one piece. You ain’t gettin’ me that close again.”
Seneca nodded. “Anything else going on?”
He looked at Max. “Your boy here’s been made.”
Seneca cast Max a quick glance. “We know.”
“Yeah, lots of buzz on the streets since you got Dillinger. I know you guys are used to it, but you might wanna warn Noko.”
Max noticed how Seneca stilled. Who is Noko?
“Is there a contract on us?” Seneca asked.
“Naw. Not yet anyway. Just talk,” Bart replied. “But you know how things can escalate, ’specially if you go after a big target like this guy.”
Seneca had turned serious. “Thanks for the warning.”
Bart looked uneasy for a moment. “I ain’t shittin’ you. I know I take your money, but I hate to see somethin’ happen to you.”
Seneca smiled. “You either. You going to lay low for a while?”
Bart nodded. “Plan to. Gotta go.”
He was out onto the path before Max asked, “Who’s Noko?”
“My grandmother,” Seneca said, her eyes staying on Bart. “She lives with me.”
Damn. Dempsey hadn’t planned on that. He was the only one who was supposed to be affected. Seneca pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll call and warn her.”
“Will that be enough?” he asked.
She turned to look at him as the phone dialed. “You’ve never met my grandmother.”
Noko met her at the door, with a shotgun.
Seneca stepped inside, checked to see if anyone was outside who could see a gun-wielding grandmother, and then closed the door behind her.
“I’m glad you took me seriously,” she said and kissed Noko on the cheek. “But they probably won’t be coming through the front door. Any leftovers in the fridge? I’m starving.”
Noko followed her into the kitchen. “Pork chops and scalloped potatoes. Be ready in ten minutes.”
“Perfect,” Seneca said, dropping her bag and shrugging off her coat. “I’m going to take a shower and try to warm up.”
Noko hung the shotgun on the gun rack on the wall. “Cold tonight.”
“I noticed.” It had been a cold, long night. She was looking forward to a hot shower, good food, and six solid hours of sleep. She took a step toward the stairs, and Noko asked, “Do you like him?”
Seneca stopped and turned to her grandmother. “Like is a little strong. More along the lines of mutu
al tolerance.”
Noko smiled, and Seneca could tell she wasn’t buying it.
“You trust him?”
Seneca sighed. “Mostly. But he’s hiding something. I can feel it.”
“Give him time. You are more alike than you think.” Noko had a way of cutting to the chase, no matter how hard Seneca tried to divert her.
Seneca headed upstairs but decided to skip the shower and took the second flight of stairs that led to the brownstone’s rooftop patio. On the way outside, she snagged her telescopic binoculars. At 4:00 A.M., night was firmly in place and her breath blew white in the darkness.
She stood in the middle of the small patio and lifted the binoculars to the stars. The sky was crisp and clear, but in the city, only the strong stars shone through. For long moments, she moved from one celestial body to another.
A song rose in her mind. “Star light, star bright . . .”
How many times had she sung those words?
Made the same wish? Come and take me away from here.
And waited.
She lowered the binoculars and marveled at the great expanse of the sky. Out there somewhere, she’d always known there were others. She’d felt that even as a child, growing up in northern New York State where the stars blanketed the heavens. She used to sneak out into the backyard at night and wish for cosmic strangers to come down and take her away to a place where there was no pain and no death. Where she could forget the past, leave it behind like a child’s toy.
With the aliens.
“Be careful what you wish for,” she whispered, her words disappearing into the night.
Max heard Seneca murmur, “This is madness,” as she walked behind him through the trees and brush to the location Bart had given them. It was after 1:00 A.M. and Saw Mill Park lay peaceful and still, even in the heart of Yonkers. Max breathed in, following the heavy scent of Shifters that had blazed a trail that only he could trace. A trail to Skinman.
Here, deep in the park, nature had found a single foothold, doggedly protecting its secrets with vegetation and stone. Max liked the feeling, the room to breathe in a city that was cramped with too many people. If he were to settle down, it would be in an open place like this. Not that that was going to happen. In fact, settling down was a dream he was certain he’d never live to see.