by Paige Tyler
“Did you and Landon find anything in Batan?” Kendra asked as Ivy sat down in the chair beside her desk.
The small island in the Philippines was the latest in a string of locations where Klaus and Renard, the creeps who’d kidnapped Ivy and harvested her DNA all those months ago, had supposedly set up a lab.
Ivy threw a quick glance out the open door, her waist-length hair swinging over her shoulder.
“Dick’s at the DC office this week,” Kendra said.
Hiding stuff from John was one thing, because he was a trusting man. Dick wasn’t. He’d been suspicious of Ivy and Landon from the moment they’d teamed up, and his suspicions had only gotten stronger after what had happened with the hybrids. Dick refused to believe events had gone down the way Ivy and Landon claimed. He’d stopped one step short of accusing them of lying about it—at least in front of the rest of the DCO. But whenever he cornered them alone, he made sure to let them know he was watching.
“Yeah,” Ivy said in answer to Kendra’s question. “Dead bodies of people they experimented on and an empty lab.”
Kendra felt as much as heard the despair in her friend’s voice. She hadn’t seen the makeshift labs the doctors set up, but from what Ivy and Landon described, she knew they were horrific places. Rooms with metal beds and bug-infested mattresses with shackles to hold the test subjects in place while they were injected with the serum that was supposed to turn them into hybrids. Blood on the floor and sometimes the walls. Implements that looked like they’d be better suited for torture than medicine.
“They dumped the bodies in a mass grave.” Ivy’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I couldn’t even bring myself to look at them this time. I felt awful making Landon do it alone, but every time I see the twisted things Klaus and Renard turned those poor people into, I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
“At least this lead wasn’t a dead end like the other places.” There’d been a lot of those. Kendra leaned forward and covered Ivy’s hand with hers. “We’re going to find those doctors and we’re going to stop them.”
Ivy wiped her cheeks with her free hand. “It’s just that we never seem to get any closer. We’re not a step behind them; we’re a whole mile back. Sooner or later, they’re going to get the hybrid formula right.”
By “getting it right,” Ivy meant using her shifter DNA to create the perfect hybrid—one who would have all the attributes of a feline shifter, but with none of the nasty side effects, namely the uncontrollable rage that made them all but useless—and a potential liability.
“They’ll slip up long before that,” Kendra said. “When they do, you and Landon will be there to take them down.”
Ivy’s lips curved into a small smile. “You should really think about adding shrink to your list of duties.”
Kendra laughed. “And kick poor Marlon out of a job?” she asked, referring to the DCO’s resident psychologist.
That got a laugh out of her friend. Ivy hadn’t done much of that since the mess in Washington State. “So, what did I miss while Landon and I were away?”
Kendra picked up a stack of papers from her inbox and thumbed through them. “Nothing.”
Ivy lifted a brow. “Nothing, huh?”
Sometimes, Ivy’s feline intuition was annoying as hell. “Not a thing.”
“Did you and Clayne ever go on your date?”
Kendra tossed the stack of papers back in the inbox and straightened her desk. Unfortunately, she was a neat freak when it came to her desk, so there wasn’t much that needed straightening. “We did.”
“And?”
“And nothing. We went out to dinner, then he took me home.”
She hoped that would be enough to satisfy Ivy’s curiosity. She should have known better. Her friend sat there with her arms folded and a look on her face that said she’d stay there all day if she had to. Kendra opened her pencil drawer and began reorganizing it.
“Seriously?” Ivy said. “You’ve been fantasizing about Clayne for years, and that’s all you’re going to say?”
Kendra didn’t answer as she carefully picked up the thumbtacks that had been rolling around in the drawer for ages and put them back in the container from which they’d escaped.
“I think Marlon would call this avoidance,” Ivy mused.
Kendra dropped the last thumbtack in the container and pushed the drawer closed with a curse. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
Kendra was afraid of that. “The fact is, Clayne and I didn’t hit it off that well.”
“Oh.” Ivy looked taken aback. And more than a little chagrined that she’d pushed. “Well, first dates are always kind of rough. Maybe when you sleep together…” Her voice trailed off as Kendra shook her head.
“We already slept together. That’s what I meant when I said we didn’t hit it off that well.” Kendra blushed. Ivy might be her best friend, but admitting she and Clayne were dullsville between the sheets was embarrassing.
Ivy’s dark eyes went wide. “You and Clayne had sex on the first date?”
“You don’t have to say it like that. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds, you know. You and Landon had sex on the first date.”
“Actually, our first date was in a tent in South America, and we just kissed.”
Kendra pinned her with a look.
“Okay. I get the point, and I didn’t mean it that way,” Ivy said. “I just didn’t think things would move that fast. I figured Clayne would need some persuading before he jumped into bed.”
“He did, and I provided it.” Kendra picked up a pen and doodled in the bottom corner of her desk calendar. “Turned out not to be one of my best ideas ever.”
Her friend regarded her thoughtfully. “So, you two didn’t…you know…spark at all?”
“Not even a little. After all this time chasing him, I finally catch him, only to find out we’re completely incompatible in the sex department. Talk about a downer.”
“That means he isn’t the right guy for you.” Ivy chewed on her lower lip. “You know, you could think about saying yes when Declan asks you out again.”
Kendra fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ivy’d been trying to get her to go out with the bear shifter for months. While Declan was cute in a cuddly sort of way, and she was sure his dark blond hair and electric blue eyes made some women melt, he just didn’t do it for her. She kind of wished he did, since he clearly had a crush on her—as was evident by how many times a week he asked her out.
“You know he’s not my type, Ivy. He’s so quiet and shy.”
“It’s the shy, quiet ones they say you have to watch out for.” Ivy winked. “Maybe Declan does all his talking in the bedroom.”
Kendra laughed. She tried to imagine the big, gentle bear that was Declan turning into an animal in bed, but couldn’t.
Fortunately, Landon chose that moment to return and save her from any more embarrassment.
“Who does his talking in the bedroom?”
“No one,” Ivy told him. “Everything cool with John?”
Landon leaned back against the filing cabinet. The casual pose made his muscles flex under his shirt. “Yeah. He just wanted to debrief me after Japan.”
Kendra completely forgot to ask about the real reason they’d gone overseas. She’d get the details from John later.
Ivy nodded. “Does he have anything else for us?”
“Other than training, no.”
“Good.”
Kendra reached for her coffee mug. “You guys doing something special?”
Ivy made a face. “Not unless you count laundry. Although we might repaint the bedroom.” She gave her husband a teasing smile. “For some reason, Landon isn’t crazy about the lavender walls. Oh, and we’ll probably go visit Jayson. We haven’t been to see him in a while.”
Kendra tried to place the name as she sipped her coffee. Oh, that’s right. He’d been Landon’s second-in-command back in Special Forces and was currently rehabbing fr
om a devastating injury at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda. He was super sweet and cute as hell, and while he’d gotten around with a cane at the wedding, it looked like every step was pure agony.
“Tell him I said hello.” Kendra put her coffee mug down. “And stop worrying about those doctors. We’ll track them down.”
“I know.” Ivy gracefully got to her feet. “And you think about what I said.”
Kendra wanted to ask which part of their conversation Ivy was referring to, but had a sneaking suspicion she knew it had something to do with going out on date with the DCO’s teddy bear.
* * *
It might have been the endless procession of experts Senior Agent Carhart had lined up to brief them on the task force’s investigative approach that had him dragging, but Clayne suspected it had more to do with the lack of sleep he’d gotten the night before. After dinner, he’d used the hotel’s workout facilities for two hours in the hopes he’d wear himself out, but instead, he’d lain in bed staring up at the ceiling in the dark, alternating between being pissed off at John for manipulating him into working with his ex-partner again and being furious with Danica for pretending they didn’t have a history together. More than once, he’d almost packed his things and gotten his ass on the first flight out of California.
But regardless of how he felt about Danica and the messed up situation he was in, there was still a psychotic shifter out there killing humans at an alarming rate. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t leave until this was over.
Even if he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, he’d still be tired of this endless talking. He’d been sitting there for three hours listening to people who’d never left the safe, comfy confines of their offices tell them how to catch a killer.
The profiler from the FBI was the worst. The guy looked like he was twelve, for crying out loud. Clayne wondered if he’d ever seen a murderer outside the pages of a college textbook. His deeply insightful addition to the investigation? The killer was likely a male between twenty-five and forty-five who hated his father. Well, that was useful. Clayne could walk around the streets of Sacramento asking middle-aged men if they liked their daddies.
After the profiler finished, the forensic expert took his turn at the podium. He didn’t have a lot to say, either. This killer hadn’t left anything behind beyond common dirt and a few tiny pieces of forest mulch. There was nothing to lead them to where the actual murders had occurred—other than somewhere in the woods of Northern California—and no hairs, fiber, trace material, or DNA that might give them a clue where to start looking for the killer. At least the forensic guy was able to confirm that all the victims had sustained some kind of debilitating injury to their hamstring or Achilles prior to their deaths. Which meant Clayne had been right about the hunter angle.
Clayne swore under his breath. He’d just handed the feds their first lead, and they all sat around and stared at each other. It was aggravating as hell and he couldn’t suppress a growl. The female agent from the state’s Bureau of Investigation turned around to give him a startled look. He bit his tongue and smiled at her. Apparently, his smile must have been just as terrifying because she quickly turned back around.
Damn. He had to get a grip on himself. He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t the most patient guy, but he usually didn’t let petty bullshit like this get to him so quickly. After being in the DCO for six years, he was used to it. He did a few head rolls to relax and caught a whiff of Danica’s scent.
This was definitely one of those times he hated having a superior sense of smell. He’d been subconsciously attempting to push her pheromones to the back of his mind from the moment she’d walked into the room, but it was no good. While he’d been successful in keeping his human half from obsessing on the scent, his animal side had been taking it in the whole time.
After everything she’d done to him, the smell of her body still had an effect on him. It was like they’d never been apart. If anything, her scent was more powerful than it had ever been. He found himself taking those small, short breaths to capture even more of her delectable fragrance.
He bit back another growl. He shouldn’t be reacting to her like this. After everything she’d done to him, he should hate her. Her scent should make him physically ill. But instead, it made him remember things he didn’t want to. Things he’d wished now had never happened at all. Like walking into his boss’s office at the DCO that day four years ago and finding her waiting for him.
* * *
Washington, DC, December 2009
Clayne was at the shooting range when John called him in. Despite all the smoke fumes he’d been breathing in for the past hour, he couldn’t miss the tantalizing aroma lingering in the air as he headed down the hallway. It was so exquisite he stopped walking and inhaled, letting his wolf out just enough to pinpoint where the smell was coming from. After a few slow circles, he figured out it was John’s office. Hot damn.
He picked up his pace, suddenly eager to get there. Usually getting called to John’s office meant something bad was coming his way—a reprimand, an attempt at a motivational pep talk, a briefing for a mission he didn’t have any interest in, a partnership pairing that had no hope of succeeding. But if that delicious scent was coming from John’s office, he didn’t care what the hell the man wanted.
He walked in without knocking and almost fell to his knees as the full impact of the fragrance hit him. As sweet as peaches mixed with the unmistakable—and delectable—touch of feminine musk. Which meant it could only belong to the woman John was talking to. She was seated on the couch at a slight angle to the doorway, so he couldn’t see her face, but the sleek column of her neck exposed by her upswept hair made him lick his lips. Another minute and he was going to start drooling.
He’d smelled a lot of humans in his life, and none of them had come close to the intoxicating scent this woman was putting off.
“Clayne, there you are.” John rose from the wingback chair. “Sorry to drag you off the range, but there’s someone I want you to meet.”
The woman got to her feet and turned to face Clayne, and he had to force himself not to stare. Daaaammn. Whoever she was, she not only smelled amazing, but looked it, too. With big, brown eyes; smooth, creamy skin; and wide, full lips—not to mention one hell of a body—she was the stuff fantasies were made of. His, anyway. And though he couldn’t tell how long her dark hair was since it was up in a bun, he’d guess it reached past her shoulders. His fingers itched to pull the clip free to see if he was right.
If meeting this fine woman was the reason John had yanked him off the range, he’d have to tell his boss to do it more often.
As she walked around the coffee table and came closer, Clayne realized she was taller than he’d thought, maybe five ten or eleven. That still made her small compared to him, but at least she could look him in the eye without craning her neck.
Up close, her scent was even more powerful and it was all he could do not to bury his nose in the curve of her neck and breathe deeply. Yeah, he might want to control that particular urge.
He tried to focus on John instead, but he couldn’t take his gaze off her. There was a rebelliousness in her dark eyes and a stubborn line to her jaw he hadn’t noticed before. His gut told him she wasn’t the kind of woman who backed down from anyone, and that made her even more attractive in his book.
“Clayne Buchanan, meet Danica Beckett,” John said. “You’re going to be her partner.”
Clayne was so busy thinking how beautiful her name was that he almost missed the last part. He jerked his gaze away from her to scowl at John. Unlike everyone else at the DCO, his boss didn’t even blink.
“What the hell do you mean—partner?”
John regarded him the same way he would a dog who’d just figured out the thing he’d been chasing for the last few minutes had been his own tail. “Partner. As in someone you’ll work with on a permanent basis to accomplish the DCO mission. That kind of partner.”
Clayne clenched his jaw to keep from letting out his inner wolf and biting John’s head off—figuratively, of course. This was the tenth time the DCO had tried to set him up with a partner. And it would be the tenth time he showed them he didn’t want or need a partner.
He hated working with other people, especially humans. And while the idea of spending some quality time between the sheets with Danica Beckett appealed to him, the idea that they could be partners was ludicrous. Men couldn’t put up with him. What chance did a woman have?
“Forget it,” Clayne said firmly. “I’ve told you before that I don’t need a partner. They’re dead weight and just get in the way. And if you think that I’ll get along better with this one, just because she’s a woman, you’re wrong. It takes more than a pretty face to get the job done—or get on my good side.”
He turned and headed for the door, suddenly having an urge to get back to the range. Shooting something seemed like a really good idea at the moment. But a hand caught his arm and jerked him around. Thinking it was John, he bared his teeth, ready to snarl, only to snap his mouth shut when he saw that it was Danica. Shit. Most men were too busy trying not to piss themselves to put a hand on him, much less glare at him with fire in her eyes like she was doing.
“I think you heard John wrong.” It was damn hard to even comprehend what she was saying because her scent was so overpowering this close. “He didn’t say I was going to be your partner. He said you’re going to be mine.”
Clayne stared. Obviously, someone had had their Wheaties this morning. What the hell was with this woman?
“John told me that you had problems working with your previous partners and that it affected team performance.” She went up on tiptoe so she was almost eye level with him. Not quite even, but almost. “Well, those issues aren’t going to hurt our team.” She smiled at him, and damn if it didn’t make his heart beat faster. “Fortunately for you, I’m good enough at my job to carry your dead weight for a while. But I won’t do it forever, so you better get your crap together.” She leaned closer, and he damn near passed out from the pheromones she was putting off. “Pay attention, wolf boy. From this moment on, we’re a team, so get used to it. Because you don’t want this pretty face pissed off at you.”