Zeek ran through details in his mind, how to set this up for it to work. “No. I need witnesses that she was there.”
“Do what you must.” The doctor hung up, and Zeek picked Skye back up, cradling her close. “Don’t die on me. Please, Fox, after centuries, I feel whole again.” He whispered in her hair as he transported them from the warehouse.
He reappeared in front of the hospital that Dr. Oswald worked at. He tried to compose himself before walking in with Skye draped in his arms. She turned towards his body, shivering despite the sweat dripped down her neck from under the shock collar. He’d forgotten to take the damn thing off, but it didn’t matter now.
Dr. Oswald walked into the lobby and came straight to them. The tall, gangly man barely looked strong enough to hold Skye. His nearly white hair was not from age, but with the glasses perched on his nose, he looked much older than he was. He held his arms out. “Give her here.”
Zeek hesitated slightly but handed her over. He needed to trust that the doctor would take care of her, but he didn’t want to leave her side. The doctor turned away from him and headed towards the double doors where the examine rooms were tucked away. Zeek followed him, but security stopped him from entering.
He kept his anger in check. “Please.” He forced out. “Dr. Oswald, let me come with.”
The doctor nodded, and security stepped aside while the doctor continued down the white hall. Zeek took a few quick strides to catch up to him. He could feel Skye’s life slipping from her. He was going to lose her. His fox.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Her muscles ached as she sat up. The last thing she remembered was Zeek’s voice begging her not to die. As she looked around the familiar blue bedroom, she touched the patch on her shoulder, surprised that her arm had moved. How did she get back to Syndicate headquarters?
“You flatlined on Dr. Oswald’s table at two twenty a.m.” Zeek’s voice came from the doorway. “You have a DNR order in your will.”
She nodded. “Why am I alive then?”
“That’s just what the official records say. Your name was written down; I identified your body. As far as any public record knows, you died this morning..”
Her heart felt heavy. “That’s what we wanted.”
“Well, what I wanted was to blow up the warehouse with Travis and another body in it, make sure that corpses were burned past recognition, but you know a drug overdose would do it too.”
She rubbed her hands over her arms as he mentioned the drugs. “They’ve created something new.” She whispered.
Zeek came and sat next to her. “What?”
“I don’t know what it is, but they created a drug that can kill humans with one dose. They plan on trying to infiltrate your people and get it onto the streets. Zeek…I don’t know how much they gave me, and it made me feel like I was floating, but I couldn’t move. He was talking to someone named Romulus; I think that’s—“
“The leader of the Agency.” Zeek snarled. “I should have taken Travis’ body to him as a warning then. Leaving it in the warehouse won’t be enough.”
That’s right. He’d ripped Travis’ heart out. She’d had a panic attack, and that’s when the drugs started reacting with her body more. She leaned into him. “So now what?”
He kissed her head. “Now, you lay low. You work on the missions that Remus gives you.” He pulled the ID card out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She looked down at the picture that had been taken for her Agency ID card. Underneath the picture, it had her name, and underneath that:
Code Name: FOX
She smirked. “Really?”
“It’ll get you in and out of all of our secured buildings. You’re in the system as an IT specialist so that you have a job when you’re out of hiding. No one in the mafia will question it. No one in the Agency will suspect it. For now, you won’t be doing any more field missions, not until Remus thinks you’re ready. But you’re officially Syndicate, Fox.”
He leaned down and kissed her. The tip of his fangs nibbled at her lip. She turned towards him, running her hands through his hair. His phone chimed and she growled at it. He put a finger to her lips.
She nipped at it playfully as he reached for his phone. He let out a whistle.
“What?”
“Some bodies were found, and Dugan’s son was just taken in for questioning.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Which means what?”
Zeek snorted. “That it’s a werewolf problem, not a Zeek and Skye problem.” He picked her up and sat her on his lap. She turned, straddling him and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Not a Zeek and Skye problem.” She chuckled and kissed him. “We’re a pair now?”
“Now and forever…Fox.”
Mind Games
Book Two
Mia Bishop
CHAPTER ONE
All heads turned in her direction as her heels clicked down the tile hallway of floor forty-seven. She could hear the rushing thoughts of the people around her, but without physical interaction, the voices were just a muffled noise in her head. Hard to distinguish but impossible to ignore. The floor for covert operations were off limits to most of the Agency's members, but the covert division had all the best toys and one of those happened to be their secure interrogation rooms. Reagan Silas wasn't a covert operative, but then again her kind were rarely ever official members of the Agency, witches of all kinds were freelance workers and those who became regular faces within the Agency were designated Special Agents.
She glared at the werewolf exiting the break-room who greeted her with a wolf-whistle and eyed her from head to toe. With her boss and her Agency issued partner behind her she discreetly flipped him off and kept walking until they'd reached the interrogation wing. She nodded her head toward the door. "Is he already in there?"
The captain, a tall, stern man who rarely ever cracked a smile, nodded. "Ready and waiting."
Her partner Jake Rosenthal, one of the few vampires she could stand, stepped between her and the door but looked past her. "Boss, give this one to someone else. There's a whole nest of ghouls we busted that we should be questioning."
She instantly bristled. "Jake, I can handle this."
"I know." he paused while rubbing the back of his neck. "I just think your talents could be used elsewhere, that's all."
“Bull shit.” She pinned him with a glare. “I’ve dealt with werewolves before.”
Without another word she turned the handle and entered the room. Jake wouldn't follower her, the security measures for this type of room only allowed for one interrogator and one suspect. She would be alone except for the double-sided mirror on the far wall which she knew the captain and Jake would be watching from. As per the protocol the room was dark and void of all sound. Deprivation was key to the game the Agency liked to play with its suspects. As she moved closer, the lights slowly flickered and came on. All the air rushed from the room. For a moment she wondered if this was a new fear tactic the Agency implemented until she realized that the lack of air was from her holding her breath. The man’s shoulders were broad and muscled, his collared shirt did nothing to hide his size. Even sitting, he looked intimidating, if he were to stand up he’d completely dwarf her mere five-foot-three-inch frame. He looked wild and power radiated off of him. Her power ignited as if his fire instantly sparked her own. She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and approached him from behind.
As she passed by she reached out and softly ran her fingers over the back of his chair, careful not to touch him as that was strictly forbidden, but he gave a visible shiver as if she'd struck some unseen nerve.
From the other side of the mirror, Jake settled in with his arms crossed over his chest. His nerves were on edge over Reagan being anywhere near this particular suspect.
Captain James eyed him for several seconds before clearing his throat. "Something on your mind, Rosenthal?"
“How could you let her go in there wit
h him."
A knowing smile crept at the corners of the captain's mouth. "Reagan is one the best psychic witches in the unit. This will be experience for her.”
Jake fisted his hands at his side. "What if he breaks her?"
"You aren't giving her enough credit. I've seen her reduce grown males to a puddle of tears; O'Conner isn't going to get to her."
"She's just a kid."
"No she's not, and you damn well know it. She's twenty-three and has been training since she was twelve." The Captain turned his full attention to Jake making him squirm under the older man’s near-black gaze. "We picked her for a reason. She's been trained to handle shit like this. And you know she has a personal grudge against his kind. He won't be able to get to her."
"Her personal grudge, as you call it, is a conflict of interest. You can't have her in there, what if she loses control."
The captain set his jaw and turned back to the mirror. "She'll be fine."
"She's never gone up against an alpha before." Jake pressed.
"A weak alpha. Ever since his mate was killed he's been unhinged."
"That's my point, he's unstable. What if she gets hurt?"
The captain glanced at Jake. "It's a risk of the job every time you suit up, but we are here keeping an eye on her. If anything goes south we’ll pull her out."
"I still don't like it."
"Jealousy doesn't look good on a vampire, Rosenthal. Pull yourself together."
Reagan made her way to the front of the table to face the suspect. The interrogation rooms helped block out the pesky noises in her head, and oddly enough she heard nothing from the werewolf sitting in front of her. Taking into account his appearance she could wager a guess his mind would be a battlefield, which was something she might be able to use to her advantage. He was a large man, muscular and lethal looking. Unfortunately, she also registered just how good looking he was too, but it wasn’t a surprise. Werewolves were notoriously handsome; it seemed to be part of their allure. His hair was shoulder length and disheveled. The color was the lightest shade of brown almost bordering on dirty blonde with copper highlights and his green eyes glowed in the low light. She swallowed again trying to work the knot out of her throat. When she finally had herself under control, she opened the file she'd been clutching and tossed it on the table. "Mr. O'Conner, I'm Special Agent Silas."
His grin was instantly wicked. "Are you my prize for being such a good boy this year?"
She snorted. "Hardly, but I can be your worst nightmare."
It was his turn to snort in disagreement. "Please lass, what's a pretty little thing like you going to do? You're nothing more than tits and ass poured into a tight little skirt. No offense but I think I can take anything you dish out."
She pulled out a paper and began reading, "Liam O'Conner. Age unknown," Reagan paused and looked him up and down, "Male. Designation, Werewolf. Marital Status, Widower. Wife’s name was Lia O’Conner. Cause of death, murdered by Hunters. No known heirs. Owner of O'Conner Construction which you inherited from your father, Dugan O'Conner.” His unruly hair tumbled into his eyes as she continued reading, "Under your control, over the past ten years, your company has overseen the development of every major government structure, granting you a hefty profit and you've also garnered over eighty percent of construction jobs in the private sector as well. Which is an increase of at least thirty-five percent in both categories from when your father was in charge. Your businesses also oversee the docks from West Forty-first Street to West Fifty-ninth Street, which has seen a profit increase of forty percent. How do you account for such astonishing numbers?"
Liam sat back in his chair and threw his head back to remove the hair from his eyes. "First off, we prefer the term Wolf. Werewolf is a racial slur used by humans and it’s offensive. I assume you already know this but are using it as some sort of weak interrogation tactic."
She sat down across from him and crossed her legs. "And what's your second point?"
His grin he'd been taunting her with vanished as he leapt to his feet before slamming his manacled hands on the metal table with a growl that shook the room. "Never mention my wife, bitch, or I'll eat your god damn heart while it's still beating in your chest."
Reagan laughed and leaned forward. "And do you have a third thing to say, mutt?"
He resettled himself in the chair and narrowed his eyes. “Do your best, Agent Silas.”
She pulled out a picture, glancing at the graphic image of three mangled and bloated corpses before sliding it across the table. “Do you recognize any of these men, Mr. O’Conner?”
He ran his finger along the edge of the photo before tossing it back to her. “Nope, never seen them before, but then again they don’t have faces so I can’t be sure.”
“Those men were found floating off the dock near your construction company’s office.”
“Tough break for them. What does that have to do with me?”
“We know your organization runs the construction and development rackets in the city. You employ less than desirable employees and engage in less than desirable business tactics. Your construction company is part of an underground organization who controls the illegal activity in this city. We are well aware you make your living by dealing out death to those who oppose you.”
“Are you accusing me of being in the mafia, Agent Silas?”
“I’m not accusing anything; it’s a fact.”
“There is nothing illegal about running a construction company or a shipping yard. I think you’re grasping at straws or this is some sort of wolf-hunt.” He turned to look at the two-way mirror and snarled. “What’s the matter, James? Can’t come after me yourself so you send in this little piece of ass to try to whet my appetite?”
Reagan clenched her fists under the table. “You can speak to me, Mr. O’Conner. I assure you no one is—”
“Standing on the other side of that mirror?” He interrupted.
“No one is going to answer your questions but me. Everyone on the other side of the mirror has nothing to say to a filthy mutt like you.”
“Oh you’ve got some balls on you little miss-special-agent. Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea what I can do to you to make your life a living hell?”
“Enlighten me, Mr. O’Conner. Tell me all about what you will do to silence me. Will you tear my arms and legs from their sockets? Or will you just mangle me like you did to the three men we found dead on your docks?” She flung the picture at him again, and this time he caught it with his handcuffed hands. “Tell me all about it,” She leaned forward and whispered. “Liam.”
His green eyes glowed intensely as he leaned across the table to come eye to eye with her. “The next time you say my name you’ll be screaming it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise, lass.”
“I’d like to see what you think you can do to make me scream. Better men than you have tried.”
Before she knew what was happening his cuffed hand had grabbed hers. Reagan’s wide eyed gaze darted to the two-way mirror and she quickly gave a shake of her head to signal to the Captain that she was okay. Liam’s fingers traced the lightest touch over the back of her hand making her shiver. “They obviously didn’t know how to pluck your strings correctly.”
There was a threat in there right alongside the innuendo, both made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Her voice stayed steady as she held his gaze. “I doubt you could do much better than the average Joe. Now, let’s begin.”
In the interrogation room physical touch wasn’t needed to enter his mind. The rooms were designed so that contact wasn’t necessary. Reagan sat in her chair, legs crossed and hand on the table. A smile crept over her lips as she felt her mind merge into his. Liam O’Conner’s Mindscape was wild and erratic like him. Reagan tried to get her footing on the uneven turf but the place in his mind where she was standing changed every few seconds. It was as if his thoughts were at war with themselves, with him, with
the environment, and now that she was present in his mind they were at war with her too. Plumes of heat and steam burst up mere inches from her feet. The sky he envisioned was blood red, then black as ink, then a mix of yellow and orange. He was unstable. Screams rose up from all around sending a shiver down her spine.
In her chair, she wiggled to try to control the uncomfortable feeling. She was still sitting in front of him, Liam O’Conner was still handcuffed and sitting at the table, but she was in his mind. Not physically, but a psychic projection of herself. He, however, was nowhere to be found, as if he didn’t reside inside his own thoughts like most people do. There was no sense of ego to this place. It was more a place of punishment than the busy mind of a hard working male. There were no thoughts of the people he worked with, the business he did, or any of the personal relationships he had. Just the changing backgrounds and screams from a tortured soul.
Reagan squared her shoulders. “Mr. O’Conner. Show yourself.”
A growl echoed all around her right before heavy paws crushed dying vegetation and a large white wolf exited the tall bushes to the left of her. He threw his head back and howled. A choir of howls answered him back for a brief second before being replaced by the screaming again. Reagan wove her hands in the shape of a pentagram in front of her and drew a sigil in the air for protection. “You cannot harm me here, Mr. O’Conner, and your attempt to intimidate me isn’t working. Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. You’re choice.”
The wolf shook its head and snarled.
“Fine.” She growled back at him.
Reagan shot her hands out and whispered the words to the binding spell she rarely had to use in an interrogation.
The wolf stiffened but narrowed his eyes as if to challenge her magic. It wouldn’t work. She couldn’t find any sign of the man inside him, the beast was in full control and snapped its massive fangs at her. Jumping back Reagan blew a strand of hair from her eyes. “Alright, you wanna play rough. We can play rough, mutt.”
Code Name: Fox / Mind Games (Syndicate Series Book 1) Page 9