Striker shifted back and forth on his feet. “We made any headway on the rogues in our ranks?”
Corbin shook his head. “No, but as I told you before, outside of our circle of trust, we question everything and suspect the worst about everyone, got it?”
“Aye.” Striker glanced at Boomer. “This is depressin’ me. Let’s talk women. I’m thinkin’ of maybe gettin’ a girlfriend. Any thoughts?”
“You would be the worst boyfriend ever,” said Corbin. “Ever.”
“Isn’t that the truth!” Duke snorted, his gaze moving to Boomer. “Speaking of girlfriends. Has the zoo called to update you on your honey there? She in heat yet?”
Lifting his middle finger in the air, Boomer smiled sarcastically. The dickheads had waited until Boomer was passed out after a long night of partying. They’d then moved him while he was in shifted form to the local zoo, broke into the panther exhibit and left him in there to sleep it off. He’d awoken to find the female panther getting a bit too friendly with him. Of course, all of his teammates had been present with a camera, ready to record the moment. The act had left him the honorary Asshole of the Week at headquarters. It was a made-up award they handed out to one another to keep moral up.
Well, that and to be dicks to each other. They enjoyed that a lot.
“Bite me, asshole,” ground out Boomer.
Duke waggled his brows. “You get off on pain too much.”
That, he did. He merely shrugged and lifted his arms, extending them out and bowing slightly as if he were proud of himself. He wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. To his friends he’d put on a show.
Lil’ Duke darted away from the area in the direction of his playroom. He would be back before long. He enjoyed the Ops too much to stay away.
Striker peered through the glass and into one of the snake tanks. He scrunched up his face and shook his head, his long auburn hair looking wild. Coupled with the fact he’d basically given up shaving, the man was starting to look more like a red bear than the wolf-shifter he was. “I’m with Duke. Snakes give me the willies.”
Boomer didn’t comment. He didn’t mind snakes in the least.
“The Fang Gang sent us three big bags of dog treats and a shit ton of kitty litter,” said Striker with a grunt as he turned his attention to the group.
Corbin said, “We have them in the SUV. Thought they might be of some use to you here at the rescue.”
“Thanks,” said Boomer.
Striker gave the snake area a sideways glance as if he feared they’d crept up on him when he wasn’t looking. “Fang Gang is due in any day now. We’ve got to think of somethin’ guid to get ‘em back with.”
The Crimson Sentinels, or Fang Gang as they were often referred to by the shifters, was a PSI team composed of all vampires. They were good operatives and worked just as hard as the rest of the men in PSI, but that didn’t stop the ribbing that went on between them and the shifters. It was all in fun.
“Send them a tanning bed and a dust buster,” offered Boomer, his distaste of vampires well-known. His neck tingled with remembered pain. Pain from when he was younger and he’d been offered up to a group of them to play with. And play they had. “That’ll teach ‘em.”
Lil’ Duke returned from his play area with an armful of dress-up toys. He went right to Duke and scaled the man’s body before he could so much as murmur a protest. Lil’ Duke placed a tiara on Duke’s head and then jumped off him, screeching a laugh as he did.
A second before Duke peeled off the tiara, Striker snapped a picture with his phone. “The lil’ missus will enjoy seein’ that one. She’s no idea she’s married to a princess, I’m sure.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” growled Duke.
Striker laughed. “You and whose army, wolf?”
“You’re a wolf too, dumbass,” said Duke.
Striker grinned. “I’m better. My wolf is Scottish.”
“I was told there is a card game tonight,” said Malik, interrupting the back and forth. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter Five
Haven crept along the outer perimeter of the building the men had pulled up to. It had taken her longer to reach it, as she’d hung back on the barely-traveled road, then parked her car way off in the distance and run the rest of the way. Thankfully, the sun had finally set during her run. She glanced down at herself and noticed the raw pink of her exposed skin. With a choked sob, she kept going, hating whatever she’d become and hating what she had to do.
But someone had to stop them.
Someone had to protect those who needed help the most.
She could smell the enemy. She knew she was in the right place. Plus, their SUV was there, parked, easy to see in front of a sign that read “Animal Sanctuary.” The tipster had mentioned a possible front that pretended to be a rescue for animals.
This had to be it.
The idea any of these men really cared for anything other than themselves was laughable. She’d heard all about them. About how brutal and sadistic they all were. About how they hunted down anything and anyone who was different and put an end to them. People who should be considered their own kind—supernaturals. But no, these men didn’t see it that way. They were killers. Her source had spared her no gory details. The source had been especially colorful in their description of Harper’s death, claiming to want her prepared before having her come to the very scene of the crime. When she’d arrived at the location they’d told her again and she’d seen for herself what had been left of her brother.
Nothing but pink bits of flesh and carnage.
The smell of it all there, rotting in the sun, was still with her. And in it all lingered a scent, close to her own, one she knew well—Harper's. Then she’d had to duck and hide away when several vans showed and people got out and basically acted as a clean-up crew, removing all traces that her brother had died there. These people were organized and well-funded. And they were ruthless killers.
“Savages,” she spat, only partially under her breath.
Haven wanted to scream, to shout out to whoever in positions of authority would listen. But she knew better. Knew that she couldn’t go through proper channels. That option had been lost to her long before she ever required it. After all, she wasn’t human. And a non-human ratting out other non-humans would end poorly. Even her source had warned her against going to human authorities.
She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she needed to do. She had to gain entrance to the facility and find the one they called Boomer. The one who killed Harper. The knit cap she wore did little to secure her long, unruly dark brown hair. She wore black head to toe. It wasn’t exactly her favorite outfit, but it was necessary to get the job done. Breaking and entering required she not be seen and that she be able to get in and get out without issue. The catsuit she was in gave her the most mobility. She just needed to verify what she’d been told—that these men would lead her to the one called Boomer.
If so, he’d pay.
She’d see to it.
Haven knew she didn’t exactly look like much of a threat, but she was more than met the eye and wasn’t to be underestimated. If these were the men who killed her brother, they’d find out firsthand soon enough just how much of a problem she could be.
Thinking of Harper made her chest tighten. They’d been close growing up, which was no surprise, considering the fact they were fraternal twins. Their adopted parents had been good to them. She and her brother hadn’t even learned they were adopted until they were in their early teens—when the changes began. Changes that showed how vastly different the two were, and that wasn’t even counting the fact one was male and one was female.
The changes were something that had to be hidden for fear of others knowing. She sighed, remembering what it was like to listen to her brother as he yelled for her through a locked basement door, wanting her to be close to him when he was forced to be alone. It was a night of a full moon, and those nights Harper suffered the worst. Yet those full moon n
ights were nights she craved the outdoors. Every fiber of her being wanted to be out in the darkness, roaming, feeling the moonlight upon her skin. Skin that had turned on her with puberty—thumbing its nose at the sun. So different from Harper’s changes. Whatever made them unlike humans also set them apart from one another.
Haven never went through the same struggles as her brother and she still carried guilt because of it. He’d come out the other side of their teens a changed person.
A stranger to her.
And then he’d ended up dead.
Someone had to pay.
Haven pulled one of the knives from her belt and tossed it at the fence. It hit blade side. She expected a jolt or something. The place was rumored to play host to some crazy things, so the security had to be more than a simple six-foot iron fence, didn’t it?
No shock came and no alarm sounded.
Haven crouched, glanced around, and then did what she knew to be out of the realm of normal. She leapt up, clearing the six-foot fence with ease before landing in the grass, partially crouched once more. She remained in place, fearful of motion sensors or even pressure sensors that would alert everyone to her arrival on the property.
Nothing happened.
There were no lights, no sirens, no alarms.
Nothing.
She huffed. “Some security.”
There was a chance she was wrong. That her instincts were way off and that this wasn’t a front for men who were more than human. Though she doubted her gift was off. It hadn’t been wrong yet. Her gut churned, urging her forward, telling her she was on the right path. That the rescue wasn’t merely a rescue. That it was so much more.
She touched her tool belt, making sure her weapons were still there and ready for use. A bullet would be too merciful for the one who killed Harper. She’d make that one pay in other ways. Slow, torture-filled ways.
She stilled as she spotted one of the occupants of the black SUV she’d followed to the facility. He’d not entered the facility yet. The blond had a cell phone pressed to his ear. “I’d hoped to break the news to them of you being back, but since you’re already here, just come,” the man said, a British accent evident.
Haven remained in place, hidden in the darkened area near bushes and upwind from him. A sports car whipped into the parking lot and came just shy of hitting the blond. Haven actually sucked in a big breath, and she wasn’t sure if she was worried the man would be hurt or worried the person in the car would steal her revenge.
As much as she wanted to be a hardened badass, the first was more likely. She steeled her nerves and mentally tried to ready herself.
You can do this. You have to do this. They can’t be allowed to hurt other people.
The pep talk helped. A little.
She’d never killed anyone before and wasn’t sure how, exactly, one prepared. And truth be told, Haven wasn’t sure she could live with herself once she did it, but that didn’t matter. She had to protect others from these monsters.
A tall, muscular man with long, black hair exited the sports car. He wore a dress shirt that was undone in the front, showing off his chest—his skin a deep, rich terra-cotta almost, maybe even a rich walnut. The sleeves of his shirt were cuffed as well. And if she was right, he was in black leather pants and dress shoes. His squared jaw was covered in a dusting of black hair. Everything about him screamed man with too much money, yet there was a threatening undertone there.
Dangerous.
What is his name again?
She struggled to remember the detailed emails she’d received. Then it hit her. Malik. She had been told he would not be a factor in her revenge. That he was off in another country with no expected return date.
This changed things to a degree. She didn’t like surprises.
Her breath caught as the dark-haired one glanced in her direction. With the cover of darkness around her, she hoped he couldn’t see her there, tucked behind the brush. The wind was still blowing in her favor. If it changed directions at all, they’d both smell her. She knew what that was like—catching the scent of something out of place. She’d done it enough in her lifetime.
That was how she’d first been able to know the anonymous tipster was onto something. She’d taken the advice given to her in one of the emails and she’d gone to a location the men were suspected to be—a local coffee shop. Haven had caught their scents then.
So different from humans.
So much more.
The blond had been the first one she’d caught a whiff of as he’d ordered a hot tea and a scone, bringing with it some interesting jokes from the gruff man with him. The two had ribbed one another, going back and forth at the counter, holding her attention, making whatever darkness she carried deep within her want out. It was primal and wanted to play with others of its kind, like the men near her.
The enemy.
She had to remind herself of that often, because deep down she’d had to fight the urge to go to them and beg them to allow her to be part of their group—their pack, if you will. It was natural for her to want to be around others of her kind. When Harper had taken off on his own several years back, she’d been devastated.
And all alone.
These animals had assured she would forever be alone. For that they’d pay. She wouldn’t let them hurt any more innocents. Shadowing them had not been an easy task. They seemed to naturally take steps to avoid being followed and often took stock of their surroundings and those around them. She’d worried they’d spotted her more than once over the past few days. If they had, none had confronted her.
Yet.
She stilled, wondering if it was wise to follow them into a place so isolated and far from civilization. If she did have a problem, no one would hear her screams.
She nearly laughed.
If she was right about them and they turned on her before she was able to get the upper hand, she wouldn’t really have much time to scream anyway.
Haven watched as the two men entered the sanctuary.
“Showtime,” she said, moving from the cover of the bushes. She approached the fully glass front door and peered through, catching the shadows of the men who had entered as they moved down a long hallway. When they were out of sight, she stepped back and began to assess the front of the building. It was tall, maybe even three levels. She couldn’t jump that high. It wasn’t as if whatever she had made it so she could fly.
Though that would have come in handy.
“Sure, instead of cool shit, I get an allergy to the sunlight and funky eyes,” she mumbled as she rolled her eyes, finding humor in her own situation where often nothing funny could be found. “You can do this. You can figure out a way in. It can’t be that hard to scale a building, right?”
With a sigh she touched the front door and it pushed open. It wasn’t locked? No. It couldn’t possibly be that easy. Could it?
She pushed it open more. No alarms sounded. No men came running. There was nothing.
Chapter Six
Haven stepped through the doorway onto an expensive-looking tiled floor. An oversized, white statue of a panther graced the entranceway on the left. Around the statue was a cliff-face scene of warm tones with a small babbling brook running through it. The water was routed around the edge of the room and went down a long hallway, out of her line of sight. She’d never seen anything so elaborate indoors before. It blended seamlessly with the high-end finish of the room. Someone had taken great pains and spent a lot of money to pull off the end result.
It was the type of place that, if she hadn’t come to kill the bastards running it, she’d have wanted to curl up with a book on one of the benches and listen to the sound of the water running while she read.
Another life maybe.
Beyond that, it was a sham. A front for men up to no good. Disgust filled her. These guys were total jerks. Not only were they murdering monsters, they lied about helping innocent creatures. Ones that needed help the most. The ache of what her life might have bee
n hit her hard, making her feel somewhat sick. When she’d gotten the news about Harper, she’d been in the middle of a two-week rotation with exotic and zoo animals. Since it was her area of interest and she had intended to work at a zoo one day with large, exotic animals, she was repeating the rotation to become even more versed in it. She loved animals of all kinds and was all set to be a veterinarian. She hadn’t planned on being a woman bent on revenge.
But that was who she’d become.
Her hopes and dreams no longer mattered. Maybe they never had. Harper used to tell her she was living a fantasy. That she’d never be able to live a normal life. Not with what they were.
He’d been right.
She moved further into the facility, her mission still in the forefront of her mind. Benches lined the entranceway to one side and then down the hall. She noticed the legs of them looked to be carved from wood, showing a variety of animals in small, beautiful detail.
On her left there was a sliding glass window, high up, like one would find in a doctor’s office. It was closed and no lights were on behind it. Glancing around, she waited, sure someone would notice her.
She sniffed the air and caught a curious scent, one that begged her to move onward, deeper into the facility. She tiptoed down the same corridor she’d watched the men vanish down only minutes before. There was no sign of them.
Haven kept going and then slowed her pace as the smells of cats seemed to fill the area around her. Not just any cats. Big ones. Very big ones.
Had the men she’d been following all shifted forms? Were they waiting in the dark to attack her? Something pushed her onward. She wasn’t sure why the inner drive to run at what could be her death was so great, but she followed it.
Like a dumbass.
Her eyes flickered with the change and her breathing increased. Adrenaline pumped through her body as she veered off in another direction, following the heavy odor of cats. A large steel door blocked her way. She pushed it open, wincing a bit as it creaked loudly. If they weren’t lying in wait for her before, they surely would be now. Setting off a bag of firecrackers would have been only slightly louder than the noise she was currently making.
Act of Submission Page 4