Bayou Heat Collection Two

by Alexandra Ivy

  No doubt they were discussing how they were going to try to force information out of him without offering any in return.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  Even if he was going to be executed as a traitor, he intended to have the truth before he died.

  Intent on trying to overhear the conversation from the outer hallway, Hiss didn’t notice the sound of a window being opened behind him.

  It wasn’t until he caught the distinct scent of expensive cologne that he whirled around to discover a tall, human male standing a few feet behind him.

  Hiss instinctively widened his stance, his fangs elongating as he prepared for an attack.

  “Who the hell are you?” he growled.

  The man smiled, his dark hair smoothed from his lean face and his blue eyes oddly compelling.

  “A friend,” he assured Hiss in a posh English accent.

  Hiss curled his upper lip, flicking a disdainful glance over the slender form that was attired in a smoke gray suit that probably cost over a grand.

  “I don’t have human friends,” he informed the intruder, his eyes narrowed.

  “Fine.” The smile widened to reveal perfect white teeth. “Then a potential partner.”

  Hiss spat on the ground, pretending that he wasn’t being eaten alive by guilt. “If you’re looking for your goddess, she returned to the mother-ship with her sister.”

  The man looked genuinely puzzled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Opela and Shakpi are reunited and have retreated from this world,” he said in slow, deliberate tones. He wanted this idiot gone so he could concentrate on his meeting with the elders. “You’re a day late and a dollar short, as usual.”

  “Ah.” The stranger waved a slender hand. “You misunderstand my presence here. I have no interest in your deities, Hiss, or the strange allies you chose to use for your revenge.”

  Belatedly Hiss realized that the intruder didn’t have the foul stench that clung to the disciples of Shakpi. Which meant that he wasn’t one of the whackadoodles that Hiss had been forced to deal with for far too long.

  So what the hell was he doing in the Wildlands?

  Hiss stepped forward, the air sizzling with danger as he allowed the fool to catch a glimpse of the cat that prowled just below the surface.

  “Give me your name,” he commanded, his voice thick with warning.

  The stranger gave a mocking bow of his head. “Stanton Locke.”

  Stanton Locke? Hadn’t he heard that name whispered by the guards?

  “Why are you here?”

  “To give you what you most desire.”

  Hiss released a sharp, humorless laugh. “Thanks, but I don’t swing that way.”

  “I have answers, Hiss,” Stanton promised in soft tones. He had the voice of an angel. Pure temptation. “And the family that you’ve been seeking.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Hakan returned to his small room in the Hunters’ communal living quarters for a quick shower and a change of jeans and T-shirt before heading to the large plantation-style building that served as the nerve center for the Diplomats.

  He was one of the most powerful Pantera ever born.

  At six foot five he was heavily muscled, with skin the color of melted caramel and eyes a dark amber flecked with jade. But despite his epic stamina, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

  After three intense days of searching nonstop for Mercier and Rosalie his body ached and his mind was clouded with weariness. He was, quite frankly, running on empty.

  Only the nagging knowledge he’d failed kept him moving.

  Fury blasted through him. Mercier was dead. Shot in the head.

  Someone was going to pay.

  In blood.

  Entering the large building filled with Geeks tapping on their computers or monitoring the surveillance equipment along the far wall, he moved toward the private offices at the back.

  He’d just stepped through a double doorway when the hallway was blocked by a large Hunter with dark hair and an angular face that was scarred on the right side.

  “Hakan.” Parish arched a dark brow. “When did you get back?”

  “An hour ago.”

  The leader of the Hunters folded his arms over his chest. “Then why aren’t you resting?”

  Hakan ignored the question. “Where’s Raphael?”

  Parish’s face hardened. Any other day he would have commanded Hakan to get his ass to bed, but with yet another crisis looming, they were all on edge. Sleep was a commodity that would have to wait.

  “He’s busy with Sebastian, trying to play nice with the horde of reporters parked on our borders,” the older male explained.

  “Yeah, I noticed.” Hakan curled his lips in disgust. He didn’t have a problem with humans, but he’d been shocked by the dozens of vans that’d blocked the roads leading to the Wildlands, and the aggressive photographers who’d been lurking in the shadows to snap pictures of anything that moved. It’d been like a fucking feeding frenzy. “What are they doing there?”

  “The humans have a bug up their ass about the beast-men infecting the bayous.”

  “Beast-men?”

  Parish gave a short, humorless laugh at Hakan’s outraged expression.

  “Their words, not mine.”

  “Perfect. That’s all we need right now…a bunch of humans treating the Wildlands like it’s their personal zoo.”

  “No shit.” Parish shook his head in frustration. “What do you need from Raphael?”

  “I want to know how Mercier ended up dead.”

  Blunt. To the point. That was Hakan.

  Only once in his life had he tried to hide his true emotions.

  He was still paying the price for that piece of stupidity.

  “They’re both Hunters.” Parish’s voice was a low growl, the pain of his cat visible in his eyes. The grief for the fallen Hunter was still a raw wound for all of them. “They understood that Raphael would never negotiate for hostages, so they did what they were trained to do. Escape.”

  Hakan nodded. He didn’t blame the leader of the Diplomats. Negotiating with blackmailers was unacceptable. Still, he needed to know how his childhood friend had ended up dead.

  “And?”

  Parish grimaced. “According to Rosalie they managed to break free of the malachite chains that were holding them, but they were both dangerously weak.”

  “Shit. They know we’re vulnerable to malachite?”

  “It seems we’ve been outed in more ways than one,” Parish admitted. “Mercier sacrificed himself so Rosalie could escape past the guards who were patrolling the abandoned factory where they were being held.”

  Hakan pressed a hand to his aching heart. It was just like Mercier to play the hero.

  “God. Damn.”

  Parish gave a grim nod. “That about sums it up.”

  “How is Rosalie?”

  “Angel checked her out as soon as she returned. Physically she’s fine. Mentally she’s a wreck.”

  He could imagine. Knowing a close friend gave their life to save you…yeah, that would screw with anyone.

  Hakan abruptly forced away his dark thoughts.

  Eventually he would deal with the loss of his friend. For now, he had to make sure he didn’t lose anyone else.

  “Have you managed to figure out why the hell the kidnappers wanted to get their hands on Hiss?”

  Parish shook his head. “Not yet. He’s not talking.”

  Hakan bared his teeth, his cat straining to get free.

  His mother had done her best to civilize him, but Hakan would always be a little feral.

  “Give me ten minutes alone with him.”

  Parish twisted his lips. No doubt the Hunter had already tried to get his hands on their prisoner.

  “The elders have demanded to speak with him before allowing us to interrogate him.”

  “Why?”

  “If you want your balls handed to you, wh
y don’t you go ask them?” Parish drawled. “Personally I’d rather put my head in a wood chipper.”

  Hakan couldn’t argue.

  The three female leaders of the Pantera could be scary as shit when they actually bothered to take an interest in their people.

  Usually it was Raphael making the day-to-day decisions.

  “Damn.” Frustration boiled through Hakan. He wanted to put his fist through something. Hard. “Shakpi’s curse is finally gone and the land is healing. We should be celebrating the birth of Soyala, not worrying about another threat to the Pantera.”

  “Preaching to the choir, mon ami,” Parish agreed. “And if that’s not enough, the humans are becoming a genuine nuisance.”

  Hakan briefly considered the pleasure of shifting into his cat form and showing the gathered humans just how dangerous a Pantera could be.

  Then he gave a wry shake of his head. “Thank the Goddess I’m not a Suit.”

  “Yeah, we’re all happy about that,” Parish said with a short laugh. “You have about as much diplomacy as a hungry gator.”

  “Which is twice as much as you.”

  The leader of the Hunters shrugged. “Painfully true.” Their conversation was interrupted by a muffled chime. With a frown, Parish dug his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and pressed it to his ear. “What?”

  Hakan narrowed his eyes as his companion paced down the hall, clearly unhappy with the direction of the phone call. He hoped like hell it was Parish’s mate complaining that the male forgot to take out the garbage, but there was a ball of dread in the pit of his stomach that warned it was something much worse.

  At last Parish shoved the phone back into his pocket and prowled back to stand in front of Hakan.

  “What’s up?” Hakan demanded.

  “I’ve been summoned by the elders.”

  Hakan grimaced. The poor bastard. No one wanted to be called before the three powerful females who shrouded themselves in mystery.

  “I thought they were with Hiss?”

  “He’s gone,” the leader said, his voice hard with anger.

  “What did you say?”

  “He’s gone.”

  Hakan blinked. Then blinked again.

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  Parish’s eyes glowed with the golden power of his cat. “Vanished. Departed. Vamoosed.”

  Hakan made a sound of annoyance. Now wasn’t the time for his friend’s twisted sense of humor.

  “I understand the definition, but I thought he was being guarded. How did he escape?”

  “A human who was armed with malachite darts managed to disable the guards long enough to unlock a back door to the clinic and sneak him away.”

  “How did a human get across the border—” Hakan bit off his words, remembering the large mass of people who were currently parked at the edge of the Wildlands. “Holy hell.”

  It could be a coincidence. The enemy might have noticed the flurry of fearful humans who were demanding answers from the Pantera.

  Yeah, and he might sprout wings and a halo.

  A low growl rumbled in his chest.

  Parish studied him with a frown. “Hakan?”

  “The humans were a deliberate distraction,” he said, sharing his growing suspicion.

  “Distraction?”

  “What better way to slip past our defenses than to rile up the national press with stories of dangerous beast-men?”

  Parish sucked in a sharp breath, swift to follow Hakan’s logic. Then his golden eyes widened and he muttered a string of foul curses.

  “It wasn’t just the reporters who were used as a distraction,” he at last said.

  Hakan watched as his leader began to pace the hall from side to side. If he was in cat form his tail would be twitching.

  “What else?” Hakan prompted.

  “The kidnappers of Mercier and Rosalie,” Parish snarled. “If they knew enough about Pantera to use malachite to capture them, then they would have known that we would never trade one of our people for another. Not even a traitor. Instead we did exactly as they expected and sent out our Hunters to search for them. Then, when we were concentrating on the search, they used the humans’ growing fear of us to stir up yet more chaos so they could slip across the borders and get their hands on Hiss.”

  Hakan turned to smash his fist against the wall, his hand punching through the paneling.

  Home repair was a daily occurrence in the Wildlands.

  “We were played,” he snarled.

  “Like fucking violins,” Parish agreed, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he was thinking about doing some remodeling of his own. “Could this week get any worse? First Mercier and Rosalie are kidnapped, then we discover The Haymore Center has been using Pantera DNA to try to create…” The older Pantera grimaced. “Hell, I don’t even know what they’re trying to do.”

  Talon had called Hakan when he was on his way back to the Wildlands to catch him up on the latest news. He was still wrapping his brain around the fact that a human female had been impregnated with a Pantera child without her knowledge.

  “The Center has to have some connection to Hiss,” Hakan pointed out, wishing he could get his hands on the traitor.

  Long ago he’d loved Hiss like a brother, but that wouldn’t stop him from beating the shit out of him to get the information they so desperately needed.

  Parish gave a sharp nod of agreement. “We can hope the two missing Pantera aren’t in the hands of our newest enemies.”

  Hakan went rigid. Talon hadn’t said anything about missing Pantera. Of course, lately the disasters were happening at a fast and furious rate. It wasn’t really surprising he had forgotten to pass along the information.

  “Who’s gone?”

  “At first we thought it was Rage and Bayon, but it turned out that Bayon was at the police station dealing with a very pissed-off Keira.” Parish’s lips twisted into a wry smile. His older sister had a temper that could make grown men cower in fear. “Instead, Rage was with Payton.”

  Hakan’s heart came to a sharp, agonizing halt as a savage terror scoured through him like hot lava.

  No. This had to be a mistake.

  He was suddenly overwhelmed by the image of a tiny female with a heart-shaped face that was dominated by a pair of pale green eyes and framed by a halo of copper curls.

  “How the hell can Payton be missing?” he rasped. “She’s a Geek. She’s supposed to be sitting at a desk typing on her computer, not out in the field.”

  Parish arched a brow, clearly caught off-guard by the fury that vibrated in Hakan’s voice.

  “We hoped the doctors would allow her to look through the files to reveal who was behind inseminating Lydia,” he explained. “They were a part of a larger group of Pantera who traveled to the Center…” His words trailed away as Hakan turned on his heel and charged toward the nearest door. “Hakan? Where are you going?” he called out.

  “To get Payton,” Hakan snarled, pausing long enough to glare over his shoulder. “Then I’m coming back to kick the ass of whoever sent her into danger.”

  ***

  The Haymore Center, just off the Pontchartrain Expressway, didn’t look like a den of evil.

  The three-story red brick building was framed by professionally trimmed hedges and a manicured lawn with large urns on either side of the glass doors. Even inside there was nothing to indicate it was anything but an upscale health clinic that offered in vitro fertilization.

  It was only in the basement, which was accessible by a hidden elevator in the lab and was protected by two guards, that it became obvious there was something wrong beneath the carefully constructed façade.

  What clinic had hidden rooms with prison cells, complete with iron bars? Or a line of steel walk-in freezers that were protected with biometric locks? Or a computer system that would make Homeland Security have a stroke?

  Payton had immediately known that she had to discover the secrets The Haymore Center was so anxious
to hide.

  Ignoring Rage’s vehement insistence that she return to the Wildlands, she’d entered the main computer room, not particularly concerned when the guards arrived and tossed her and Rage in the cells.

  They were obviously rent-a-cops, not hardened warriors, and there hadn’t been any malachite in the iron bars of the cells. If they truly felt in danger they would be able to escape.

  Besides, the Hunters weren’t the only ones who were willing to take risks to protect the Pantera. She might be a Geek, but she would do whatever necessary to discover who was behind the latest threat to her people.

  And it had nothing to do with proving her worth.

  Not one damned thing.

  Leaning over the desk, Payton carefully monitored the numbers scrolling across the computer screen.

  Over the past three days she’d been running the computer program that she’d personally developed to break through the firewalls that prevented her from downloading the files.

  It should never have taken so long, but the complicated encryption system had meant there wasn’t going to be an easy solution. Instead she had to peel away each layer of security, one at a time.

  And of course, it didn’t help that they had to pretend to be safely locked away whenever the guards stirred from their private break room to check on them.

  It’d been a frustrating few days, but she was finally at the last firewall. She was close enough she could taste success.

  Tapping an impatient finger on the edge of the desk, Payton pretended she didn’t notice the large Hunter who stepped into the room packed with high-tech equipment.

  As if any female could ignore the gorgeous male with short, dark hair that always looked as if it’d been tousled by an eager lover. He had skin tanned to a warm shade of bronze, a lean, perfectly sculpted face, and eyes that were a startling shade of violet, flecked with gold.

  No big shocker that Rage had been breaking hearts since he’d left the nursery.

  “It’s almost halftime,” the male warned. It was Sunday night and the Saints were playing football. Payton had hoped it would keep the guards glued to their TV until she was done. “You need to get back to your cell.”