He resisted the urge to point out that she’d shared a hell of a lot more than just a bed. He was pretty sure it would only piss her off.
Instead, he held up his hands, his expression softening. “Mira-”
“Don’t you dare patronize me,” she snapped, pulling a mangled phonebook out of the middle drawer.
He stepped forward. She was serious. She was actually going to call for a taxi.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, not bothering to disguise his frustration.
“If I want your protection, I’ll ask for it.”
Sinclair trembled, battling against his instinct to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to his lair.
He could be Alpha to his people. They understood their hierarchy within the Pack. But a mate fell into a completely different category.
He couldn’t order her to obey.
Dammit.
“What do you want from me?” he rasped.
She held his narrowed glare. “Respect.”
Sinclair flinched. What was she talking about? He’d always deeply admired her. Even he’d been denying his deepening interest in her as a female, he’d always held her in the highest esteem.
“Of course, I respect you,” he snapped, his voice edged with outrage.
She tilted her chin. “Then stop treating me like some helpless damsel in distress.”
His lips flattened, his hands clenching at his side. “This isn’t a game, Mira. These people will kill you.”
“It’s never been a game,” she reminded him. “I’ve understood from the beginning this would be dangerous. That didn’t stop me.”
She was right, of course. From the night he’d first approached her, he’d put her in danger.
“I should have stopped it,” he said.
No big surprise, she refused to back down. Mira could be kind and sweet and astoundingly generous.
But when she decided to dig in her heels, she had the temperament of an angry mule.
“Either I’m your partner you trust to be at your side, or I’m a burden that you need to keep tucked in your private lair,” she warned.
Feeling the noose tighten around his neck, Sinclair made one last effort to make her concede to his urgings that she travel to his lair.
“This is my battle,” he reminded her. “The shifters are the ones who have made an enemy of the SAU.”
She arched her brows. “I thought it was our battle. Wasn’t that why you sought me out in the first place? So we could work together to reveal the truth?”
He released his breath with a loud hiss. “Don’t use logic on me.”
Tossing aside the telephone book, she moved to stand directly in front of him.
“I deserve this, Sinclair,” she said in soft, but determined tones. “I was the one to discover the emails that led to Dr. Lowman. And the one to find his possible location.”
He reached to grasp her upper arms, breathing deeply of her floral scent.
“If something happened to you…”
She reached up to lightly touch his face as his words trailed away. He couldn’t bear to think about a world without this woman in it.
“You can’t protect me every second of every day,” she said.
His muscles clenched, a dark fear settling in the pit of his gut.
“Yeah, but I don’t have to deliberately take you into the line of fire.”
Her fingers trailed down the rough curve of his jaw. He still needed to shave. Not that Mira had seemed to mind the rasp of his whiskers when they were in bed.
“There’s not going to be a line of fire.” She intruded into his much more pleasant thoughts. “No one knows where we’re going.”
Sinclair was momentarily caught between his fierce need to tuck this female away in a safe location, and the knowledge that she would never fully give herself to him if he tried steal her free will.
She’d made her point. She’d earned this. And if she decided she wanted see her efforts through to the end, then what right did he have to tell her no?
Even if his wolf was going nuts.
“I’m going to regret this,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his cellphone.
Punching in Rios’s number, he waited for the jaguar to answer.
“Hey, Rios, there’s been a change of plans,” he grudgingly told his friend, turning to pace across the carpet. “No. We’re fine. But we’re heading straight to Nebraska. Mira’s coming with me.” He grimaced at Rios’s predictable response. “It doesn’t seem to matter if its smart or not.” He could feel Mira’s gaze burning a hole in his back. Time to change the subject. “Tell Bree that I want her to start getting the press conference arranged, but don’t actually start it until you hear from me. I hope to have some proof that will ensure no one can doubt we’re telling the truth.”
Rios agreed, clearly struggling to contain his very cat-like curiosity. He was smart enough to sense that Sinclair wasn’t in the mood to explain why he was allowing his soon-to-be mate to put herself in danger.
Replacing the phone in his pocket, he turned to meet Mira’s watchful gaze.
“Did you say something about a press conference?” she demanded.
“Yes.” He moved back toward the door. Now that she was firmly stuck in the middle of his plans, there was no reason to keep them a secret. “While you were at the air base, our people started to assert our independence. We’ve announced that we will no longer be prisoners.”
Her lips parted, a strange expression rippling over her lovely face.
“I thought Donaldson and Markham were becoming more and more on edge,” she said. “I assumed that it was frustration because I wasn’t finding the doctor.”
He felt a sharp surge of satisfaction at the thought of Markham sweating.
The bastard had treated his people like animals, not only caging them but also forcing them to fight in pits. And worse, he’d been trying to discover how to create his own shifters by doing unspeakable medical testing on them.
“They’re losing their hold over my people,” he explained. “Which means that this is the most dangerous time for all of us. Soon, they will decide the only way to control us is through death.”
She gasped in horror. “No.”
His expression hardened. “Before they can arrange a genocide, we intend to expose the truth.”
A shiver shook her body. “It’s no wonder they were so anxious to find the doctor. If he knows what happened in the Verona Clinic…”
Her words trailed away as they silently considered the stakes of what they were doing.
If they could find Dr. Lowman and have him stand before the cameras to admit that the humans were responsible for the virus, then the SAU would lose all credibility. They would, essentially, be destroyed.
“We have to get to him first,” he rasped.
With a firm nod of her head, Mira was moving to pull open the door.
“Let’s go.”
Sinclair rolled his eyes as he followed behind her. This morning hadn’t gone at all like he’d been expecting. And he sensed that this was only the start.
After all, he was a dominant wolf, and she was a sexy, sassy, stubborn human.
What was it the Chinese said…may you live in interesting times?
He had a feeling that life with Mira was always going to be interesting.
“This is why men lose their hair,” he said.
****
Mira didn’t try to break the heavy silence as they drove down the back roads at a break-neck speed.
She understood that Sinclair was fighting against his natural instincts. Not only was he a shifter, but he was also an Alpha. Which meant he had an overwhelming need to protect the people he considered a part of his Pack.
But she knew that she had to stand her ground. If she allowed Sinclair to believe he knew what was best for her and start making unilateral decisions for her own good, she would eventually snap.
He had to accept that she was an in
telligent woman, who was perfectly capable of choosing where she wanted to go, and how she wanted to get there.
If he wanted a submissive female, who would obey his every command…well, he needed to keep looking.
Not that she wasn’t afraid.
She knew better than anyone just what the SAU was capable of. Hell, she still had the bruises to prove it. But she was determined to see this through to the end.
After eighteen months of hard, sometimes terrifying work, she would never forgive herself if she hid in a cave while Sinclair finished their mission.
It was mid-afternoon when Sinclair pulled into a large parking lot. Halting behind a dumpster, they studied their surroundings.
It’d been over twenty minutes since they’d last seen any hint of civilization, which made the large brick building in front of them more mysterious.
Why would anyone choose to open a business in the middle of nowhere?
The obvious answer was that the people inside the building didn’t want to be bothered by society.
Her gaze moved over the flat roof and the tall, arched windows. She could see a high hedge at the back of the structure that she assumed enclosed the hospital’s private gardens. There were also balconies that ran the length of the front of the building with fluted columns.
The place might have been built in the boonies, but no expense had been spared.
There was a large sign near the edge of the manicured lawn at the front of the building that was painted with gold letters.
“Great Plains Home of Tranquility,” she read aloud. “I think this is the place.”
Unbuckling his seatbelt, Sinclair reached to shove open his door.
“I want you to stay here,” he commanded.
If she had any sense, she’d let him go. She could see the wolf in his eyes, which meant that he was at the edge of his patience.
But, she couldn’t let him put himself in danger when she had the means to prevent it.
“I can help,” she said.
He turned in his seat, reaching out to brush the back of his fingers over her cheek.
“You already have, sweetheart,” he said. “Now let me take care of this.”
She swallowed a sigh. It was going to be a fight. A shame. But she intended to make him listen to reason.
“Look around, Sinclair,” she insisted.
His brows drew together as his gaze skimmed over the half-empty lot before moving toward the sprawling brick building.
“Look at what?” he demanded.
“This is clearly a private institute,” she said.
“And?”
“They’ll have strict security.” She nodded toward the heavy double doors. “You won’t get past the front guard.”
Blue eyes flared with offended male pride. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that I can be stopped by one human guard?”
She felt a small burst of annoyance. Did all men have the same oversized ego?
Yeesh.
“First.” She held up a finger. “You don’t know that there’s just one guard.” She put up another finger. “And second,” she continued. “I thought you were trying to avoid attracting the attention of the authorities.”
He scowled, refusing to acknowledge that she was right. “I can sneak past any security.”
She gave a lift of her shoulder. “Okay, say that you sneak past security. How will you find the room you’re looking for?”
There was a tense moment as he wavered between following the urgings of his heart, or accepting the logic of her argument.
“Dammit,” he at last said. “What’s your plan?”
“I need your phone,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Why?” he asked, even as he pulled out his phone.
“Do you trust me?” she demanded, using the same words that he’d used the night before.
Releasing a resigned sigh, he placed the phone in the palm of her hand.
“I thought I was good at manipulating people,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m an amateur compared to you.”
Ignoring his grumbling, Mira used his internet to connect to her private cloud. A few minutes later, she was pulling up the file she’d been searching for.
“This should get us past the front guard,” she said, turning the phone so he could see the I.D. badge that filled the screen. “And hopefully to Lowman’s room.”
He leaned forward, studying the officially CDC document with a furrowed brow.
“Who is Dr. Rachel Miller?” he demanded, reading the name listed beneath a picture of her.
“She’s me,” Mira said.
His gaze lifted to study her guarded expression. “I don’t understand.”
She cleared her throat, suddenly realizing that Sinclair wasn’t going to be happy when she confessed why she’d made the badge.
“When I was running searches through the CDC system, I occasionally needed a clearance beyond my pay grade so I invented a new employee who had the credentials to open the most sensitive files,” she said, keeping her voice light, as if it were a common habit to create imaginary employees. “Unfortunately, we both know any information related to the Verona Virus and the shifters’ blood that created the vaccine had already been purged from the archives.”
He stiffened, his nose flaring as he visibly struggled to maintain control of his temper.
“Christ, Mira,” he snarled. “You were supposed to be running background searches on any connection between the SAU and the Verona Clinic. I had no idea you were taking risks that could have gotten you thrown in jail.” His eyes glowed with the power of his inner animal. “Or dead.”
She was instantly on the defensive. “You asked for my help.”
His growl rumbled through the truck, making the seats vibrate.
“When this is all over, I’m locking you in my lair,” he snapped. “I don’t care how much you bitch.”
She ignored his threat. They both knew he wasn’t going to lock her away. Although, she wouldn’t entirely mind spending some quality time alone with the male…
Giving a sharp shake of her head, Mira forced herself to focus on a plan.
Unlike Sinclair, she didn’t have fangs and claws that could rip a man in half. She needed her brainpower if she was going to get them to Dr. Lowman’s room.
“I can use this ID to get us inside without setting off any alarms,” she assured her companion.
His jaw tightened. He clearly wanted to tell her no. It was etched on his face and showed in the tension of his lean body.
Thankfully, he was still capable of realizing that she was offering the best chance of them accomplishing their goal.
“Shit,” he said in resignation.
Releasing a silent sigh of relief, she reached out to lightly touch his arm. She wanted him to know that she appreciated his faith in her.
“I need something to wear,” she told him, knowing he needed to channel his frustration into some sort of physical action.
He sucked in a slow, deep breath, clearly hanging on to his temper by a thread.
“What?”
She glanced toward the building. This was a place that would put a high value on privacy. She would have to come in with the big guns if she intended to get past the front door.
“A nice pantsuit or a dress,” she said. “Oh. And a lab coat if you can find one.”
Without warning, he leaned across the seat to press an aggravated kiss against her parted lips.
“Don’t. Move,” he commanded.
Chapter 10
It took Sinclair less than half an hour to return with a black pantsuit that hugged her curvaceous body to perfection, along with a lab coat that hit her mid-thigh and a pair of sensible heels.
She didn’t ask where he’d found them. Or how he’d known her precise sizes, she simply wiggled out of her sweats and into the new clothing.
Then, slipping on her lab coat, she led Sinclair across the parking lot and into the front foyer of the bui
lding. Behind her, she could feel the pulse of Sinclair’s power beating against her back. It never failed to amaze her that he could pass as human. She’d only been in his company for a few minutes when she’d suspected that he was something more.
“Let me talk,” she said, touching her braid to make sure the stiff breeze hadn’t allowed any curls to escape.
His fingers brushed down her back, as much a warning as a gesture of comfort.
“First sign of trouble and we’re out of here,” he warned in a low voice. “Got it?”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, I got it.”
Entering the small foyer, Mira blinked. White walls, white tile, and a chrome desk where a uniformed guard was seated.
It was blinding.
Moving forward, she pretended to ignore the guard until he scrambled from the desk to stand directly in her path.
“If you’re here to visit a patient, you need to make an appointment,” the man said, puffing out his chest as if to draw attention to the shiny badge on his shirt pocket. “No one is allowed in without a doctor’s approval.”
Mira arched a brow, allowing her gaze to dismissively flick over the man’s pudgy body and scuffed shoes before returning to meet his pale gaze.
“I’m here to speak with a patient, but I can assure you that I have no need of an appointment,” she said, holding out the phone to reveal her electronic badge. “I’m Dr. Miller with the CDC.”
The man frowned, glancing warily toward Sinclair before returning his attention to Mira.
“What do you want?”
“As I said, I need to speak with a patient,” she said, her voice sharp as she lowered her arm.
“Which one?”
She felt Sinclair lightly touch her back. A silent reminder that the person they were looking for was using a fake identity. Or at least they hoped it was fake.
Otherwise, they’d driven a very long way for nothing.
“Gerald Medlen,” she said, using the name that she’d found during her search for Dr. Lowman’s wife, Jessica.
The man jerked, clearly caught off guard. “That’s impossible.”
Sinclair released a low growl, but Mira took a step to the side, keeping herself firmly between the two men.
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