Buried and Shadowed
Page 11
Slowing, he turned into the little cul-de-sac that had six small homes tucked behind white picket fences. He pulled into Mira’s driveway, turning off the engine as he studied his surroundings.
He half expected Mira to peek out the window, or even open her front door to see who was visiting. When nothing happened, he climbed out of the truck and made a quick sweep around the small brick house with white shutters and a narrow porch complete with a swing.
Nothing looked out of place, but Sinclair’s inner wolf was on full alert as he entered the garage to find her car. There was no scent of Mira inside. Which meant that she was out with friends who’d picked her up. Or…
He gave a sharp shake of his head as he moved to break the lock on the door leading into her house. He couldn’t let his seething fear distract him. Not when he was increasingly convinced that Mira was in trouble.
He wouldn’t do her any damned good if he walked into a trap.
Entering the kitchen, he noticed the lack of dishes. Even the coffee pot was empty. Silently, he moved past the table that was located near the back door, as if Mira preferred to look outside while she was eating.
An odd pang tugged at his heart. He came from a large, noisy Pack, who often ate together in the communal center of the den. The thought of Mira seated alone at the table cut through him like a knife.
Ignoring his strange reaction, Sinclair moved into the living room, the hair on the back of his nape rising at the unmistakable scent of Mira’s blood. A red mist of fury threatened to cloud his brain, and a howl locked in his throat.
Mira had been hurt.
Someone—or many many someones—was going to pay.
It took several minutes to regain command of his composure. Then, fiercely reassuring himself that there wasn’t enough blood to have been from a grievous wound, he headed into the bedroom that carried the light floral scent that belonged distinctly to Mira.
He was searching for any hint of who might have taken her, along with assuring himself she wasn’t sharing her intimate space with another male, when he caught the sound of the front door being pushed open.
In the blink of an eye, he was back in the living room, moving across the hardwood floor with blinding speed. Just as quickly, he was grasping the intruder by the arms and lifting her off her feet to pin her against the wall.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The gently rounded face of a human woman in her mid-thirties flushed with fear, her brown eyes that matched her short hair going wide as she gazed down at his feral expression.
“Tanya Wade,” she managed to stutter. “I’m Mira’s neighbor.”
He allowed his senses to search for other intruders. When he found nothing, he returned his focus to the woman who looked like she was about to faint.
“I’m going to release you, but make a noise or go for a weapon and you’ll regret it,” he warned. “Understand?”
She gave a cautious nod. “Yes.”
Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, waiting until he was sure her knees would hold her weight before he released her and stepped back.
“Where’s Mira?”
The woman made a visible effort to stiffen her spine, a look of genuine concern darkening her eyes.
“I don’t know.” She held up her hand as a low growl rumbled in his throat. “Truthfully. I haven’t seen her for almost two weeks.”
Sinclair believed her. Humans might be capable of lying with their mouths, but their scent always gave them away. This woman was deeply frightened. Not just for herself because of him, but for Mira.
“Did she tell you where she was going?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “Two weeks ago, she came over to leave Sinclair-”
“Who?” Sinclair interrupted.
“Sinclair. Her cat,” Tanya explained.
Sinclair remained baffled. “Why Sinclair?”
“She said the cat reminded her of a stubborn, ill-tempered man she knew,” she said in impatient tones, her eyes narrowing. “Are you with the police department?”
Sinclair hid his smile, treasuring the knowledge that his little computer nerd had a quirky sense of humor. It was yet another piece of the complex puzzle that was Mira Reese.
“No. I’m a friend,” he assured the woman.
“Oh.” Tanya bit her bottom lip. “I called and reported Mira missing, but they said she probably met some man and took off.” Her lips flattened. “Idiots.”
Sinclair sent a glance around the worn but comfortable furniture and shelves of books along one wall. There would be no way to tell that anything had happened. Not unless a person had the heightened senses of a shifter to smell the dried blood.
“How can you be sure that wasn’t what happened?” he questioned.
Tanya didn’t hesitate. “Her car is in the garage, and none of her clothes are missing,” she explained with simple logic. “Besides, even if she’d been swept off her feet by some secret Romeo, she would have never left her cat behind.”
Sinclair felt a flare of hope. This woman was clearly intelligent, as well as observant.
It was possible she had noticed something that would give him the clue he needed to track Mira down.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Tanya took a second to gather her thoughts, as if she understood just how important it was to give Sinclair the facts as clearly and thoroughly as possible.
“Mira came by early one evening. I think it was thirteen or maybe fourteen days ago,” she said. “She said that she was meeting a friend out of town, and asked if I could watch Sinclair for the night.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist. “When she didn’t come to pick him up the next morning, I used the key she gave me to come in and check on her. I waited another day before I called the cops.”
Sinclair assumed the meeting Mira had been talking about had been with him at the motel. His stomach clenched. He should have insisted then that she travel with him back to Boulder. Instead, he’d ignored his unease and allowed her to return to her home and her damned cat. Oh, he’d covertly followed her to make sure she’d made it to this house, but then he’d driven away.
Why hadn’t he tossed her over his shoulder and taken her to his lair where she belonged?
“She hasn’t called or tried to contact you?” he asked.
“No.” Tanya blinked away sudden tears. “And I’m really worried.”
“Me, too,” he bluntly admitted. “Did you notice anything the night that Mira disappeared?”
The woman wrinkled her nose as she gave a shake of her head. “Not really.”
Sinclair’s wolf pressed beneath his skin, elongating his fangs and making his eyes glow. Thankfully, the house was shadowed enough to hide his reaction.
“Anything,” he said, keeping his face partially turned. “No matter how meaningless it might have seemed.”
Tanya gave a nod, thankfully unaware that she was standing in the presence of a shifter.
“I don’t know if it helps, but the night that she left, I happened to glance out the window and I thought I saw her car going into the garage,” she said. “Then I saw a dark truck drive down the street super slow.”
Sinclair felt a pang of disappointment. He was, no doubt, the one she’d seen driving the truck.
“Anything else?”
She hunched a shoulder. “About ten minutes later, I saw a van parked in front of my house.”
Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “Did it have a logo?”
Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall what she’d seen. “Yeah, as a matter of fact it did. It looked like three white bullets.” She grimaced. “Or maybe it was rockets.”
Sinclair tried to imagine the logo, something teasing at the edge of his mind.
Three rockets.
He’d seen it before. But where?
“Missiles,” he abruptly breathed, adrenaline exploding through him.
“Do you know who took Mira?” Tanya asked.
Tanya lifted a hand to wipe a tear that was trickling down her cheek.
“How?”
“I have my ways,” he promised. “Take care of Sinclair. Mira’s going to want him.”
“Bring her home,” Tanya said in a whisper. “Please.”
A grim smile touched his lips. “You have my word.”
Chapter 3
Mira Reese tapped on the keyboard, doing her best to ignore the two large men who leaned over her.
It’d been the same thing for the past two weeks.
She would be taken from the small room in the old barracks where she was locked each night and brought to the headquarters of the SAU Air Force Base.
When she’d arrived here two weeks ago, she’d been terrified. The soldiers who’d burst into her house and smacked her hard enough to cause a bloody nose had threatened endless torture if she didn’t give them the information that they wanted.
Thankfully, she’d had the drive to the local SAU building to pick up the Director, and then another hour drive north to consider her limited options. By the time they’d reached the base, she’d managed to convince the bastards that she was on their side. And that her search for information on the Verona Clinic, and who’d actually been responsible for the virus, had been a necessary part of her job with the CDC.
Of course, they hadn’t agreed to let her go.
Instead, they’d demanded that she continue her search for the doctor beneath their watchful eyes. Mira hadn’t minded. If they were anxious to discover the doctor, that meant her suspicion that Dr. Lowman was somehow connected to the original outbreak was right.
It also gave her the opportunity to use the SAU’s powerful network.
During the near collapse of society when the virus had swept around the world, the internet had been severely limited. The government claimed that they didn’t have the manpower to devote to repairing unnecessary infrastructure. Mira, however, suspected that they were intent on limiting the amount of information that could be shared.
After all, there was nothing more dangerous than the truth.
Clicking to a new screen, Mira wrinkled her nose at the hot breath that puffed against the back of her neck as George Markham, the head of the Denver division of the SAU, released an impatient curse. A large, ex-military man with short, iron-gray hair and a large body that was trending toward flab, he’d been the first one to interrogate her at the SAU headquarters.
It was the second man, however, who’d taken the lead since they’d arrived at the air base. Chief Master Sergeant Donaldson wore the crisp uniform of a man still in service. His head was shaved, and his lean face deeply tanned as if he spent a great deal of time outside. She guessed his age to be in his mid-fifties, and while he technically appeared to be beneath Markham in rank, he was clearly in charge.
“Well?” Markham demanded for the hundredth time in the past two hours.
Mira didn’t bother to glance around. She wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate her captors. They would slice her throat without a second thought. But she was convinced that she only had a few hours until she could make her escape.
“I’m close,” she promised.
“You said that three days ago,” Markham snapped.
She had, of course. She’d been playing a dangerous game. One that could end in disaster if she couldn’t keep the men distracted while she concluded her hidden search.
“It takes time to break through so many layers of security,” she smoothly lied. “Which is why I’m so convinced that the Apate Clinic must be hiding something important.” She deliberately paused. “Or someone important.”
“Like you were convinced that the Morgan Hospital had a Dr. Lowman on their staff,” Markham snapped. “And that Scotland Research facility had the original notes from the Verona Clinic.”
Mira heaved a sigh, reaching up to brush a stray curl from her cheek. Over the past two weeks, she’d been at the mercy of the base’s commissary, which meant that she didn’t have her usual toiletries. Now, her hair was a mass of corkscrew curls that tumbled down her back, and a pair of green fatigues covered her curvaceous body.
“I warned you when you first-” She bit back the word ‘kidnapped.’ She was doing her best to make the men believe she was there of her own free will. “Insisted on me joining you here, that I only had a few threads that I was trying to follow.”
Markham abruptly straightened and stepped back. “We’ve wasted too much time on this shit.”
Mira’s heart missed a beat. Her biggest danger was the moment these men decided she was no longer of use. When that happened, she didn’t doubt for a second that they would kill her.
Thankfully, Donaldson wasn’t prepared to quit.
“If Dr. Lowman is still out there, we have to find him,” Donaldson said in clipped tones. “Or do you want to wake up to discover his face plastered on the TV stations?”
“He’s had twenty-five years to expose us,” Markham groused, unaware that he was giving away vital information to Mira. “Why would he do it now?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Donaldson snapped. “We both know the animals have become emboldened over the past few months. Plus, that damned tiger had evidence of our cover-up,” he said, referring to Jonah Wilder, the Alpha of the Golden Pack. He’d recently revealed evidence that they’d traced the original outbreak of the Verona Virus to a human lab. And that there were suspicions that a defense contractor was attempting to create a weaponized form of the Ebola virus. “If he decides to share his information, then the good doctor might be afraid of changing public opinion. It would be in his best interest to come out as a whistle-blower rather than one of the creators of a worldwide plague.”
Markham made a sound of impatience. “Have you considered the possibility that he’s dead?”
“Until I know for sure, I’m not halting our search,” Donaldson warned.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mira watched as Markham puffed out his chest. The two men were involved in a constant power struggle. Good news for her. Their need to constantly try and outbluster one another meant that she could use their distraction to accomplish her secret goals.
“I have a division to run, you know,” Markham said, deliberately reminding the other man of his position.
Donaldson’s beefy hand landed on the glossy desk where Mira was working.
“We all have our own jobs,” he snapped.
“Yeah, but mine is to make sure the animals remain in the cages we built for them,” Markham reminded his companion. “Something that’s growing more difficult every day.”
Mira grimaced. One day, she was afraid they were going to actually pull out their dicks and measure them.
“Then go back to Boulder and let me deal with this,” Donaldson offered.
Markham gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t trust me?” Donaldson demanded.
“I don’t trust anyone,” Markham assured him.
“Fine. I’m going to get some dinner.” Donaldson crossed the carpeted floor of the office that was designed for maximum intimidation. Big, wooden furniture filled the space, including a desk that was bigger than Mira’s bed. Towering shelves crammed with pictures of explosions in mid-air, silos filled with missiles, and Donaldson standing in his flight suit next to a jet. There were also a dozen photos of shifters being held in the compounds around the world. A dark tribute to a man who valued war. “You can join me or stay here,” he said.
Markham released a harsh sigh. “I’m coming.”
The men had reached the door when Donaldson glanced over his shoulder to stab Mira with a warning glare.
“You.”
She conjured an expression of faux innocence. “Yes?”
“Don’t leave this computer until you’ve breached the security,” he commanded.
>
“Whatever,” she said in sullen tones.
Waiting until she could catch sight of them out of the window walking along the narrow pathway to the nearby mess-hall, Mira swiftly hacked into the security cameras that were placed around the room. A few taps on the keyboard and she had them on loop. Only a careful inspection would reveal that it was a five-minute feed that played over and over again.
Again she tapped on the keyboard, this time pulling up the background search she’d been running for the past two weeks.
When she’d logged on earlier, she’d noticed a tiny bell at the corner of the screen. That was her notification that she’d had a hit with her web crawler.
A sense of elation rushed through her.
Yes.
She, at last, had what she needed.
A name and an address.
Leaning forward, she blocked out everything but sorting through files as fast as possible. Bank accounts, apartment leases, employment records, birth certificates…
Lost in the world of data, she missed the soft sound of approaching footsteps. It wasn’t until a hand was placed over her mouth that she realized she was no longer alone.
“Ssh,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear as his fingers stifled her scream.
Reaching up, she grasped the intruder’s wrist, tugging his hand from her lips as she turned her head to meet his ice-blue gaze.
“Sinclair?” She blinked in confusion, casting a glance around the office to ensure they were alone. For a horrified second, she’d been worried he’d been taken captive. When it was obvious they were alone, she returned her attention to his lean, impossibly handsome face. “What are you doing here?”
A dark brow quirked. “I would think that’s obvious. I’m here to rescue you.”
As far as Mira was concerned, there was nothing obvious about it.
She’d known from the first night that Sinclair approached her at a party given by the local CDC office where she worked that he was out of her league. It wasn’t just his lean, handsome face or the dark, satiny hair that brushed his broad shoulders. It wasn’t even the rock-hard body beneath his casual jeans and t-shirt. It had been the masculine power that smoldered in his pale blue eyes, and the air of arrogant sensuality that he wore with confident ease.