Into the Night [Into the Heart 2]

by Caitlyn Willows

  That news relieved her. Prentice had openly flaunted the cavelike sinkhole where he killed, building a replica of that beautiful grotto in his own home. Having seen the real cenote and the horrors that happened there, Trina didn't need a reminder.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Wyatt glance in the rearview mirror. “Are we still being followed?"

  "Yes, Detective Sanchez is still on our ass."

  The man had been sitting in his unmarked police car outside of Trina's house when they left that morning. He made no secret of the fact he was tailing them. He also made no effort, though, to speak with them, despite several opportunities to do so. He could have easily cornered them when Wyatt and Trina took the forensic samples into the lab at the Braden Institute, but the man didn't budge. He'd backed into a parking slot behind theirs and waited.

  "I swear that coffee cup is glued to his hand,” Wyatt said. “He hasn't put it down for a second."

  "So much for safe driving.” Trina snickered. “You could always slam on your brakes. A lap of coffee should be enough to put some distance between him and us. Even better if it's still hot."

  Wyatt grinned. “I've been tempted. But he'd probably arrest me for assaulting a police officer. I can't do much from behind bars."

  "No, your clan needs you."

  He slipped his hand over hers. “You need me."

  There went her melting heart again. Trina didn't know how to respond, so she settled for squeezing his fingers.

  "So for now, we'll give him what he wants.” He put both hands back on the wheel to negotiate the final hairpin turn.

  "And what's that?” she asked.

  "All of us in one place. Whether it's to interrogate or inform...” He shrugged. “My guess would be, he plans to do a little of both."

  "And he's trying to rattle us by following?"

  "That would be my bet."

  Trina snorted. “I don't rattle easy."

  Wyatt grinned. “Neither do we."

  He pulled to a stop on a wide apron of cobblestones that circled a bubbling fountain. Sanchez pulled up a few feet away. Trina and Wyatt didn't waste time exiting the SUV, ignoring the detective as he sauntered over.

  "Beautiful view.” They looked up in time to see Sanchez jerk his head toward the crystal clear view of blue ocean and San Diego below.

  "It'll make a nice museum and research facility one day,” Wyatt replied.

  Sanchez held up a brown folder. “You've got grand plans for a property you don't own."

  "A mere formality of the probate court. The Garners received the property through an inheritance. They've donated it to us.” Wyatt gave Sanchez his brightest smile. “But I'm sure your research shows all of that. Now if you'll excuse us..."

  He pressed his palm against Trina's back, a simple gesture that clearly signaled they were united. It empowered Trina in ways she'd never imagined. She gave the detective a coldly polite nod as they brushed by him and moved toward the house.

  "Not going to invite me in?” Sanchez asked behind their backs.

  "If I refuse, you'll only find some way to come back with a warrant,” Wyatt tossed over his shoulder. “What's the point in wasting our time and yours? Just don't expect refreshments."

  "Not very hospitable for a pillar of the scientific community, are you?"

  Wyatt whirled around so fast, Trina was afraid he was going to slug the man. “I've just had three friends murdered, so excuse me if my manners are lacking."

  Trina skidded her fingers up his arm. “Come on,” she said softly, trying to placate him and diffuse the situation. “Let's get inside."

  He let her lead him away, but a glare remained fixed on Sanchez until the front door swung open. Joaquin stood on the threshold, a force to be reckoned with, should it come to that point. Their stance with everyone had to be defensive—it was a survival mentality. Joaquin's gaze flicked over the spots clearly visible on Trina's neck. When he looked in her eyes, she saw surprise, perhaps acceptance, maybe even hope. Or maybe that's what she wanted to see.

  "He has questions.” Wyatt jerked his head toward Sanchez.

  "And information,” Sanchez added behind their backs.

  Joaquin glowered at the man, but nevertheless stepped aside to let him in too. “Everyone's in the kitchen. Left, then straight ahead. We have a few questions of our own, officer."

  "It's detective,” Sanchez snapped.

  Joaquin smirked. “I know."

  Wyatt led the way, keeping Trina close. She could feel Sanchez breathing down their necks. Her consolation was in knowing Joaquin trailed the man.

  Trina smiled when she saw the interior. Thank God the beiges had been purged from the décor. The house breathed life with vibrant blues, greens, and golds wherever she looked. Open draperies pulled sunlight into the house and afforded a beautiful view of the lush green garden outside. No ghosts remained.

  Wyatt's clan members sat at the breakfast bar and the alcove table. Only Barry stood, caught in what she suspected was mid-pace.

  Jeremy Gibson hugged a cup of coffee on the farthest side of the table. His back was to the bay window overlooking the pool patio—the only one who dared to throw caution to the wind. He'd changed since Trina saw him six months ago. An old soul looked back at her through youthful eyes. All traces of the cocky smart-ass who felt the world owed him because of his intelligence were gone. He'd cleaned up—brown hair cut, jeans and pullover that fit and didn't look like they belonged to his big brother, clean shaven. She wondered how she looked to him, if the changes she'd undergone were apparent to someone who'd known her so well.

  Trina returned Jeremy's nod of greeting. What should she tell him? Or had the news about her already been shared? Obviously, he knew he was in the midst of shape-shifters. He would have remembered what happened at the cenote, just as she had. But the mere fact that he sat here among them was a clear indication of trust. Yes, Jeremy had definitely changed for the better. Old Jeremy wouldn't have given a crap. But then, neither would the old Trina.

  She shifted her focus to Carmen and the six clansmen gathered in the kitchen.

  "Here, take my seat.” Cristían stood and motioned to Trina to take his chair next to Carmen.

  Trina thanked him and sat down. She didn't realize until then that she was shaking.

  "I hope you have news for us, Detective Sanchez.” Wyatt crossed his arms and braced against the breakfast bar. “We have arrangements to make."

  Sanchez plopped his brown folder on top of the marble counter. “I understand your friends had no family."

  "That's correct,” Wyatt replied. “But you already knew that. Please don't waste our time or make this any harder for us than it already is."

  "All right.” He snapped a photograph from his folder. “Any of you know this man?"

  Wyatt glanced at it. “He's the man I found last night. I don't know who he is."

  When Sanchez realized Wyatt wasn't going to take the picture, he stepped forward and tossed it on the table. “Any of you?"

  An instant “no” froze in Trina's throat. There was something vaguely familiar about the man. “It's the paramedic.” Just as quickly she shook her head and added, “No, it's not him. But it does look a lot like him. The shaggy blond hair. The square head. Maybe they're brothers."

  "Yes.” Carmen nodded. “He looks like the paramedic from last night. Steven something."

  "Bernard.” The last name came from Barry. “Remember? He was the one who found Carmen during the wildfire. He was at the scene last night."

  "I take it there wasn't any identification in the car this man was found next to?” Wyatt asked.

  "We're still processing,” Sanchez replied.

  "Then why don't you finish your processing and come back when you have some definitive answers for us.” Joaquin snagged the photo from the table and handed it to the detective.

  "That's what I'm looking for ... answers. There are just too many coincidences for my liking right now.” He took the photo from Joaqu
in and jammed it into his folder. “You'll be pleased to know, Ms. Tate, that preliminary analysis shows the blood under your nails is yours. Odd, wouldn't you say, when you'd indicated it was Mr. Valera's."

  Joaquin snickered. “She didn't indicate anything. I told you it was mine. Why is this important?"

  Sanchez stared at him, but didn't bother acknowledging the statement. “Preliminary examination also showed your female friend was pregnant with twins."

  Someone stifled a whimper. Carmen pressed her hand to her mouth. Even Trina felt the pain in her heart at the news.

  Wyatt parked himself in front of Sanchez. “Get out. Now. Don't come back here without a warrant. You want to talk to any of us about anything, you go through our lawyers. Got it?"

  "Loud and clear.” Sanchez did an about-face and walked away.

  "I'll see he finds his way out.” Barry strode after him.

  No one said a word until Barry came back and they knew Sanchez was gone. His absence didn't bring a sigh of relief. If anything, the tension got thicker. The pain, excruciating. No one mentioned Rose's pregnancy. Trina knew it hurt too much to do so.

  "There are too many coincidences for my liking, too,” Wyatt told them.

  Joaquin pinched the bridge of his nose. “We got your e-mail. Your theories are—"

  "Farfetched,” Carmen snapped. “Especially where it concerns her.” She jerked her chin Trina's way.

  Wyatt's sigh matched Trina's. “Show them."

  She and Wyatt had been expecting this. The clan wanted more proof than the spots on her neck. She tried to tell herself it was no different than being in a bikini top. In fact, her bra covered more than the bikini did. But that logic didn't diminish how vulnerable Trina felt when she stripped off her T-shirt and turned to show the clan and Jeremy her back.

  A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. Trina closed her eyes and let them look to their hearts’ content. Heat wafted her way—someone wanted a closer look. She'd expected that, too. What she hadn't anticipated was the rush to her libido when that first hand brushed down her spine.

  "Down.” Barry's voice held awestruck wonder. “I'd forgotten how it felt when it's just starting to come in."

  Another hand followed the first, up her neck and then down to the waistband on her jeans. “God,” Joaquin breathed out. “How far do they—"

  "All the way,” Wyatt softly replied. “They've quadrupled since I first saw them last night and have spread to her front."

  As if to verify what they could clearly already see, hot hands drifted over her ribs. Her nipples tightened. God help her, she wanted to toss all her clothes aside and let them have at her. She wanted to curl in a ball and tell them to leave her alone. Fire pooled in her stomach. Trina didn't try to fight it; doing so only made it worse.

  "May I?” Cristían's voice was so soft, she thought she imagined it. The tug on her bra hook told her she hadn't.

  "Yes,” she whispered. An instant later the hook opened. The straps fell down her shoulders.

  One of them thumbed her nipples, then lips closed over one ... and the other, too. Her aura embraced them, more lips kissed her shoulder, her lower back.

  Too many clothes. Too hot!

  She fumbled for the snap on her jeans, but her fingers wouldn't work. They were clunky, awkward, no longer hers. Her shoes were suddenly too small, cramping her toes. Another gasp.

  "Ohmygod, Trina,” Jeremy said in a rush of breath.

  A roar broke the spell. Trina's eyes flashed open. Heads jerked Carmen's way. Fury blazed back. Claws fully extended, she raised her hands and hissed. Her chair skidded over the tiled floor, then toppled. Incisors grew with each measured step she took toward Trina.

  No one moved; they were like a collective breath held. Trina's reality wavered. The urge to snarl back overwhelmed her. She dredged up control and stood her ground.

  Just as suddenly as it began, Carmen's claws and teeth retracted. The glow in her eyes faded to nothing.

  "Impressive control."

  A hint of a smile glimmered on her face. Trina didn't trust it.

  "And all this time, I thought you were a fraud. Clearly, you aren't.” Carmen waved her hand at the men. “Get off her, you animals. She's a virgin shifter. I know it's been a while, but have a care, or you'll hurt her."

  Everyone took a giant step away, leaving Trina and Carmen the center of attention and inches away from each other.

  Carmen closed the distance in one smooth glide. Cold arms closed around Trina.

  "Welcome, sister.” Carmen brushed her fingers down Trina's downy back. “So soft. No wonder the men forgot themselves. My apologies as well for my rudeness. I've been under some strain. Under the circumstances, I'm sure you can understand why I'd be so protective of my clan. Let me have a closer look at you."

  She held Trina at arm's length, then slowly walked around her. Fingers trailed her skin, igniting more fire wherever she touched.

  "Impossible, yet here you are.” Her hand swooped down Trina's back. “But not quite like us, are you? Your spots are somewhat different. Jaguars have dots inside the rosettes on our backs. Of course, ours are difficult to see because we are black."

  "Could she be a white jaguar?” Joaquin asked.

  Carmen cocked her head to one side. “Intriguing possibility. The rarest of all. Is it possible to run a DNA test and compare hers to ours?"

  "She did a cheek swab at the lab.” Wyatt retrieved Trina's clothing from the floor and handed them to her. “The techs are running it now with the other evidence I collected last night."

  "Actually...” Jeremy skidded his chair back. “There's already a DNA test of her in the Prentice files."

  Standing in front of them half naked didn't make Trina feel half as exposed as this latest revelation. She turned her back to them all, hooked her bra, and yanked the T-shirt over her head. Everything felt tighter now, too warm.

  "I found a DNA profile on all of us Prentice invited on his Yucatán expedition,” Jeremy said.

  "Is there one on me?” Wyatt cupped his hand over Trina's shoulder. She had a feeling it was as much to comfort himself as it was for her.

  "No.” Jeremy shook his head. “Remember? You were a last minute addition to the trip. At that point, the Prentices had already planned to kill everyone except the Garners. Why bother with DNA when they were going to kill you anyway?"

  "But why?” Even as she asked the question, the answer dawned on her. “Because they didn't want to run the risk of taking over the body of a shape-shifter."

  "Exactly, because they didn't want a body they couldn't control.” Joaquin stared off into space.

  Carmen laced her fingers through his and hugged his arm. A frown furrowed her forehead. Her gaze darted between the men. “They?"

  Joaquin patted her hand, but didn't look her way. “The skinwalkers, Carmen."

  "Oh, of course.” But her apparent confusion remained.

  "And they annihilated your people because they couldn't take the chance?” Trina wanted to say it didn't make sense, but then, genocide never did.

  "It was war. Out-and-out war.” Barry scrubbed his hand over his face, as if to erase the horror.

  "Obviously they discovered, or think they discovered, something in your DNA that sets you apart from others,” Trina said. “What?"

  Jeremy stepped out from the table. “Haplogroup X."

  Trina's head imploded. “Which exists in some Native Americans.” In fringe “scientific” circles, it was sometimes called the Atlantis gene.

  "It's also found in Europe and Asia.” He raised his palm. “And before anyone uses that to help support Wyatt's recent theory of more shape-shifters, let me point out this example. All women who are pregnant have had sex, but not all women who have sex get pregnant, in vitro notwithstanding. Just because this clan is Haplogroup X doesn't mean that all people with Haplogroup X are shape-shifters. You"—he pointed at Trina—"are obviously a shape-shifter, but your genetic ancestry is Haplogroup H. Just lik
e me. Just like all the others on our fateful little team."

  Barry cleared his throat. “Is there anything in Trina's genetic ancestry to link her to us?"

  "Let's go look. I only remembered her haplogroup, because we were all the same.” Jeremy started walking toward the interior of the house, talking as he went, as if he expected them to follow.

  Cristían stayed behind with five of the men to stand guard. The rest of them hurried after Jeremy.

  A white marble staircase off the living room wound itself downward. The risers bore the indentations of years of footsteps, yet there wasn't an imperfection in any of them. They stepped off the staircase and into a room as big as the whole house. Thousands of books lined one wall. The other contained every piece of laboratory equipment and computer known to man, and a few Trina couldn't identify.

  "You were right,” she whispered to Wyatt. “It does rival the facilities at the institute."

  "We've only just scratched the surface of what's here,” he replied.

  "Can you imagine the knowledge these combined assets possess?” Barry looked like he'd found heaven.

  Not to mention what that knowledge could do for mankind. In the wrong hands, it would be devastating.

  "Prentice also set it up to be a panic room. There's an exit back there through a kitchen pantry.” Wyatt pointed to the location, but Trina couldn't see for all the equipment.

  "He's got enough supplies to last a month,” Jeremy said. “But the exit tunnels off into several different locations throughout the property.” He marched over to a circular nest of computers. “My setup's over here.” He plopped into a black leather executive chair and rolled from one computer to the next. Fingers flew over each keyboard, calling up data and linking it to one huge plasma monitor.

  "Here we go.” He rubbed his hands together, popped his knuckles, and cracked his neck. The man was definitely in his element. That Mensa-level intellect finally paid off for him.

  "Okay.” He tapped the screen. “From the data present, there is no ancestral genetic link between any of you and Trina. According to this profile, she is more genetically similar to me, both of us being in the H-group. Prentice did a pretty thorough workup on everyone. By that I mean he tracked mitochondrial DNA and Y-chromosome DNA—maternal and paternal genetic ancestry. In the case of a female, a male relative is tested for paternal lineage."