by C. J. Barry
“What if they recognize your scent? What if they recognize us as XCEL?” Seneca asked for the third time.
He smiled. The first time she asked, he figured she was worried about her own safety. The second time, he figured it was about XCEL. But she hadn’t liked his assurances to either of those, and it finally dawned on him that she might just be worried about him.
“Then we’ll have to fight our way to Skinman.”
“Look, I know you are good and all, but there may be a lot of Shifters down there,” she persisted.
He walked through low-lying brush and random trash that covered the ground. “Just stay close to me.”
“So you think they’ll just let us waltz in, and no one is going to check me for weapons?”
“Trust me.”
“Crazy-ass plan,” she muttered under her breath, and he almost laughed. It wouldn’t be a crazy-ass plan if it were hers, but for some reason, she seemed nervous not being in charge of the operation.
A new scent stopped him and he lifted his hand to halt Seneca. Ahead the brush thickened and traversed a vine-entangled stone embankment that led up to a bridge. It appeared to be a solid wall, but to a man with his sense of smell, in there somewhere was a doorway to the underground.
Seneca followed him silently through the vegetation and along the wall, where a wedge of broken blocks created a hidden opening. They squeezed through the narrow gap. Inside, it was pitch-black. A place only a Shifter could navigate. A low arched access tunnel stretched downward into the earth. Moss covered the stonework and dead leaves carpeted the floor.
He didn’t sense any Shifters in the immediate vicinity, but he knew sentinels would be waiting at some point. Skinman would have a few levels of defense.
“Can you see anything?” Max asked Seneca, who was right next to him, keeping close.
“All I can see is your shadow.”
He frowned at her. “What shadow?”
She was looking around him in a wide circle, her pupils enlarged as her eyes tried to adjust to the loss of light. “Every Shifter has a shadow, even in human form. I can’t see in the dark, but I can see Shifter shadows in the dark.”
He hadn’t thought how Shifters might look to humans who could see them. “Any details?”
“Head, arms, legs, torso. Just your basic shadow. Color varies from white to black.”
“Amazing,” he said.
“Oh yeah,” she murmured.
“Can you pick me out from other Shifters?”
Her face lifted to his, and she smirked. “Worried I might shoot you by mistake?”
“It crossed my mind. You did say we all looked the same to you.”
Her head tilted a little as she studied him. “You’re . . . unique.”
He smiled at that. To a man who lived his life wearing someone else’s body and identity, unique sounded pretty good. Seneca might not be able to see him in detail, but he could see her perfectly. No headgear, nothing to give them away as XCEL agents to Skinman or his cronies. She’d opted for no protective gear under her Gore-Tex jacket, just a thin T-shirt and jeans. The only weapons she carried were hidden in the lining of the jacket.
Right now, she was cool and calm to the danger facing her. Ready to do whatever it took to make things right. He’d never met anyone like her, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. It was then he knew he was in trouble. Here he was on the brink of what might be the last day of his life, and he’d finally found someone worth living for.
He closed his eyes and struggled between hope and reality. The hope was that he could find the killer today, survive, and be free. Free for what, was another story, but free just the same. The reality was that he’d die and so could Seneca.
“You know that we may not come out of this tunnel,” he said softly.
“Speak for yourself, Dempsey. Plus you owe me food and wine. You aren’t getting out of those so easy.”
She might sound fearless, but underneath there was more. A woman, a kind, compassionate soul. Something special that she didn’t let many people see. Max touched her hand. Seneca blinked as he stepped into the void between them. In the silence, he could hear her breathing quicken.
“It’s time,” he whispered, surprised by the huskiness of his own voice.
“Time for what?” she asked, frowning and backing up until she hit the wall. It occurred to him that she wasn’t scared of battle, but she was terrified of an intimate touch. He wondered who’d done that to her.
Max leaned under the curve of the ceiling and placed his hands on the wall to support himself. Then he brushed his lips against hers. “For our cover.”
She inhaled a shuddering breath and swallowed. “Is this really necessary? Can’t we just shake hands or—”
He captured her mouth midsentence, discovering her unique taste. She moved her lips against his, tentative at first and quickly bolder, revealing a hunger he never would have guessed was there. He growled a little, unable to stop the mad rush of energy that rose from his belly. She opened her mouth to his, wholeheartedly giving him access. Their lips merged, tongues deep, and Max soon lost his mind.
He pressed the length of his body against hers, confined by the low ceilings, wedged his knee between her legs, and felt his erection growing by the minute. All the frustrations, all the self-control unleashed at once. His growl echoed in his ears, Seneca filled his senses, and for a moment, everything else was forgotten. Her desire flooded through his blood. She wanted him.
It was only when Seneca moaned and bit his lower lip that he remembered where they were and why. Only then did the mission’s call echo loud enough for him to hear it. He broke off the kiss and buried his face against her neck and hair. Both of them were breathing hard. Seneca trembled against him, and he cursed himself for distracting her to that degree. He needed her to be fully aware, fully battle ready. It would be the only way they’d survive.
He pulled himself together, while every moment aching to go back. And every moment remembering Ell’s body, battered and stretched out across the deck of the ship. The scent of her killer strong. The symbol for “traitor” she’d left written in her own blood for Max to find.
Then he pushed off the wall and quickly checked the tunnel. Christ. What was wrong with him? Had he completely forgotten why he was here? One kiss. It sure didn’t take much to sidetrack him. Seneca wanted him. That would do it.
She licked her lips and took a deep breath, turning serious once again. Out of reach, at least for the time being. “Okay. I guess that handles the cover?”
Max agreed. “Should do it. Last chance for you to bail.”
“Don’t even, Dempsey.” She patted her jacket where her guns were concealed.
“Let me do the talking,” he added.
She wrinkled her nose. “I know, I know. I’m just the distraction.”
“And you do it very well,” he said, and he meant it. He was totally distracted.
He watched her smile. “I know.”
He shook his head. Fearless. “If I raise my right hand, shoot any shadow that moves except me.”
“Then don’t get in my way.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She was still trembling as she followed on Dempsey’s heels. “Cover,” my ass, she thought. Kissing Dempsey had totally screwed up her concentration, and part of her wondered if he’d done it on purpose just to get even for treating him like crap. Now she was shaking like a leaf from her reaction to one kiss. Sexual energy zinged through her body. Her lips may never recover. If she shot him, he’d have no one to blame but himself.
It worried her that she was getting used to the strange cocoon that enveloped her every time they touched. Aside from the passion and sexual overdrive, she was convinced the sights and sounds she tapped into were coming from deep within him. They seemed to be drawing her in, toward something that she couldn’t quite grasp. Did he realize that? Could he see inside her as well? If so, he wasn’t admitting anything. Regardless, she didn’t want to be there,
and it wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t. He was an alien and he was her partner, and her hormones were going to have to deal with that.
It was a damn shame too, because Dempsey’s rock- hard body harnessed some serious raw heat, and she was like a moth to the flame. When she became entangled with him, when the flame got too hot, she wasn’t even considering the risk of getting burned. And that could prove to be the scariest thing she faced tonight.
Her fingers brushed a clump of moss on the tunnel wall as her hand trailed along the slick stone behind Dempsey. She was completely blind. Any minute now, she could crack her head against a stalactite or something equally bad. Like a shapeshifter. Seneca was beginning to understand why it took a Shifter to catch a Shifter. She and Riley would never have been able to get this far.
Dempsey slowed to a stop, and she tried to focus on something, anything, without success. He stood still for a few moments, and then led her to the left. They must have come to another turn. No human could sneak in here without a flashlight or night vision. She hated this, hated letting him run the show. Step after silent step, she followed in air so black she couldn’t tell up from down. The only thing grounding her was Dempsey’s shadow.
Then he stopped dead. She looked around him in the narrow tunnel and saw two Shifter shadows up ahead. Then she heard the ratchetting of guns and a voice rose in the passageway. “Identify yourselves.”
Dempsey said, “Need to do business with Skinman.”
“Who’s the human with you?”
“My girlfriend.”
Seneca watched the shadows approach, filling the width of the tunnel, and put her hand against the disrupter concealed inside her jacket. If they found it, all bets would be off.
“You got an appointment?”
Seneca studied them. Were they in Shifter or human form? She couldn’t tell in the dark.
Dempsey answered, “No.”
The shadows moved to block the way. “No appointment, no business.”
“Look, if you can’t help me, I’ll just have to find another Skinman,” Dempsey countered. “I’m sure there’s enough business in this town for more than one.”
The two shadows began talking in whispers. Seneca had her hand in her jacket when one Shifter finally answered. “I’ll take you down. After we check you out.”
A Shifter moved forward, and she could see him frisk Dempsey’s shadow. Then he moved toward her.
Dempsey stepped between them. Wait. Was he protecting her? Hell. This cover sucked.
He said, “Hey, she’s not unbreakable, and I don’t appreciate anyone touching my girl.”
My girl? She was going to kill him if they survived this.
“Orders. No one gets through without being cleared.”
She felt the air move as both Shifters closed in, but Dempsey didn’t relinquish her. He growled, “If she looks like a threat to you guys, then you must not be very good.”
Seneca tried to look as innocent as possible, and realized she didn’t know how to. Tension hung in the air. All she could hear was breathing and the hum of a challenge. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.
“Have it your way, but if they kill you, don’t come crying to me,” the Shifter said.
Seneca gave a silent exhale of relief. They were still alive. Although, the night was young.
Dempsey found her hand and took the lead. One of the Shifters followed them, calling out directions. They navigated the tunnels and she tried to count footsteps along the way. Random air movement and smells indicated there were probably side tunnels.
They veered to the right, and Seneca heard the rush of water. Meager light framed the end of the tunnel. Light at last. Moisture settled on her face and hands. The access tunnel opened to a walkway along an underground water canal. Overhead, a few ancient, orange light fixtures burned with their last breath. In front of her, a strong current of water cascaded by, ten feet wide and moving fast.
For the first time, she got a look at the other Shifter. He was in Primary form, charcoal black from his domed head to his broad feet. He carried a massive, deadly looking rifle that hadn’t shown up in his shadow form.
Dempsey stood beside her in human form. He hadn’t shifted yet, and that was probably to keep the others off guard. They followed the narrow walkway that ran along the edge of the water conduit, passing a whirlpool created from a break in the canal. Another fifty feet and she could hear sounds and voices ahead. A doorway appeared. Behind it, Shifters.
Showtime.
Max sized up Skinman’s office in the first few seconds. No windows, a hallway in the back and a door to the right. There were four Shifters in the bunker—all in human form, two to Max’s left, one to his right, and one in the middle sitting in a wide chair. All four had distinct scents, and to his immediate disappointment, none of them was Ell’s killer or the Shifters who’d trashed his apartment.
The three goons jumped forward at the same time and pulled their weapons.
“What the hell, Kab,” one of them said to the Shifter who’d escorted Max and Seneca. He had brown hair, blue eyes, was unshaven and nasty-looking, with the gun. “You don’t bring down customers unless they have an appointment.”
“Bite me, asshole. Let’s see you stand up in that stinking tunnel all night,” the Shifter said and ducked out.
Max would have two Shifters to deal with on the way out, which was better than he expected. He looked past Brownie to the man seated quietly in the big chair. He had long black hair and dark eyes. A black goatee looked out of place against his pallid face.
Max addressed him. “I’m here for a new skin. I hear you’re the best.”
Brownie pointed the gun at Max’s chest. “You talk to me first.”
Max eyed him. “I don’t deal with the hired help.”
“Fuck you—” Brownie said as he lunged toward Max. One quick sidestep sent him sprawling and told Max everything he needed to know to take him down. Frankly, Max was more worried about the quiet bald guy hanging back. The other one was young with spiked hair and multiple piercings. He looked easy, although those weird ones could be unpredictable.
“That’s enough,” Skinman said, standing up. The three minions stepped aside as he approached Max and shook his hand. Firm handshake, but not a fighter. Things were looking up.
“Who sent you?” he asked Max.
“Levinson. Friend of mine. He says he got a skin off you.” It was a partial lie. Max had never met Levinson, but Bart had given them the name.
Skinman studied him and Max hoped he bought it, or this was as far as they’d get. Taking on four shifters in close quarters would be suicide, even for him. He needed to split them up. Hopefully, Seneca had figured that out too.
“I don’t usually accept walk- ins,” Skinman finally said, his gaze falling on Seneca. “But I’ll make an exception this one time.”
A strange possessiveness gripped Max. It had started in the tunnel and now threatened to rage out of control. Besides, Seneca would kill him if he got too protective of her. He tried to draw Skinman’s attention. “I’m looking for new skin. This one has some baggage associated with it.”
Skinman grinned and spoke to Seneca directly. “Is that right?”
She smiled demurely, a look Max had never seen and would never forget. Her voice was slow and sexy. “That’s right, sugar. And this time, I get to choose what I want.”
Skinman crossed his arms and asked Seneca, “You know how this works?”
“All I want to do is pick out his new look. You boys deal with the details.” She latched onto Max’s arm and her jacket opened enough for Max to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He resisted the urge to cover her up.
“I work in cash or trade,” Skinman said, staring at her breasts. “Which are you interested in?”
“Cold hard cash,” she replied with a sly smile.
“That’s a shame,” he replied.
Max was seconds away from knocking the lecherous look off Skinman’s face when he
said, “Follow me.” Then he turned and ushered them through the open doorway in the back of the room. Seneca slipped her hand in Max’s and played the good girl. Her transformation was nothing short of a miracle. She could be a Shifter if she wanted to.
Brownie and the pierced kid followed them into the back room with guns drawn, while the quiet one stayed in the main office area. The bunker was made of concrete and was probably damned thick. Skinman pushed the heavy steel door at the end of the corridor open, entered, and flicked on a light.
Cold air hit them in the face, and Max heard Seneca’s gasp. The interior room was lined with shelves and shelving units. Every shelf was packed with jars and containers—bits and pieces of human remains.
Skinman spread his hands out wide. “The finest inventory you will find anywhere on this planet.”
For a moment neither of them moved, and then Seneca said, “Dear God. Where did you get all these—these people from?”
“The morgue,” Skinman replied smoothly. “No humans were harmed.”
Bullshit, Max thought.
For her part, Seneca kept her cool and gave a disgusted grimace. “Well, I’m not buying anything based on a foot.”
Apparently, Skinman found that funny and laughed. He said, “You’ll find a picture of the body on every container. With all the parts you’re looking for. What are your specifications?”
Max surveyed the containers. There were a lot of bodies here so photos would definitely help identify the victims. Then he realized that Seneca was talking about him.
“I’m looking for someone with his height and build. I like them big,” she said, emphasizing the “big” part.
Max eyed her as she sized him up. “Maybe a bit more muscle,” she added. “Darker hair, blue eyes, big hands, bigger feet. Perhaps a better sense of humor. And, of course, he needs amazing stamina.”
He might have objected if he weren’t just about to tear this place apart. “Give the lady whatever she wants.”
Skinman motioned to the far corner of the room. “I think I have exactly what you’re looking for. Let’s start over here.”