by Celia Kyle
Food.
Then they’d hunt…for information.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Cole
Cole didn’t do jealousy. If he wanted what someone else had, well, he’d take it. Or buy it.
Except staring at Abby snuggled in Declan’s arms and seeing that possessive glint in his teammate’s eyes…he wasn’t sure the taking would be easy. As for buying…Abby wasn’t the kind of chick to tuck a few hundred dollar bills in her bra and crawl onto his lap. She was sweetness and light with sharp claws and a backbone of steel.
Which made him want her even more. Dammit.
He tore his attention from the couple and refocused on whatever the hell Birch was bitching about now. The team plus Pike and Abby sat around Pike’s scarred dining room table, arguing over who went where and did what. He hadn’t exactly been paying attention. Staring at Abby’s blushing cheeks was more fun than listening to growls.
“Someone remind me when I can blow shit up?” He tipped his chair back and twined his fingers behind his head. “Or at least shoot someone? I know guns are Declan’s game, but I’m getting desperate for a little blood.”
Birch glared at him, Ethan snickered, and Grant ignored him in favor of a steak he’d gotten somewhere. Declan’s attention was all on Abby, and then she had to go and giggle. Pike’s focus remained on the map spread across the table.
Cole narrowed his eyes, staring at the little puppy while he studied the map. The kid hadn’t joined SHOC with his brother, Declan—at Declan’s insistence—so he wasn’t sure why the puppy was included in the planning session.
But he was. He stood over the city’s plans, fingers tracing the shoreline.
Sure, Cole could understand why the director made Birch twitchy. He simply wondered why Pike didn’t have the grizzly shifter on edge. Because Pike sent his tiger’s senses tingling, and the cat remained uneasy the longer Pike stared at that map.
Cole turned his attention to Birch. He ignored the bear’s grumbles and caught his team alpha’s eyes. He flicked his focus to Pike and back to Birch, then lifted his eyebrows in question.
The grizzly pressed his lips together and shook his head, remaining silent.
Ethan snorted and leaned close. “Subtle.”
He elbowed the lion. “Fuck off.”
“Focus, assholes.” Birch’s voice cut through their joking. He didn’t yell, but shouting wasn’t necessary. They knew their jobs—when to settle in and when to dare Grant to shotgun a case of beer.
Birch snatched the map from Pike and leaned over the large diagram. He pointed at a small island just off the coast. “The tablet we need is hidden here on Palm Island, right, Abby?”
Abby’s face paled, and she nodded like a bobblehead toy. Aw, poor kitty was afraid of the bear.
Sure, Declan tried to calm her, but Cole’s tiger assured him they could do a better job. She seemed fine getting up close and personal with a psychopath. He and Abby would get along well. He simply had to get rid of Declan first. Cole’s tiger purred at the idea, saliva flooding his mouth, and he kicked the cat’s ass to the back of his mind.
They were brothers—not by blood, but by choice.
Fuck. He needed to get laid. He had to be able to find a nice little piece who looked all sweet and innocent like Abby. Had to.
Birch tapped on another area of the map. “This is the accounting firm—Ogilve, Piers, and Patterson.”
“You mean O.P.P.,” Ethan murmured.
“Yeah, you know me.” Declan tipped his chin toward Ethan.
Grant snickered. “It’d be wrong to whip up a mix tape for the mission that began with ‘O.P.P.’ by Naughty by Nature, right?”
“Yes.” Birch’s voice was flat, face expressionless.
“Awesome.” Grant snapped and then made finger guns at their team alpha. “I’ll work on that once you’re done ordering us to break into O.P.P. and download their servers.”
Birch ignored Grant and got back to plans.
Cole decided to ignore Birch in favor of staring at Abby on the down low. Oh, he listened—mostly—so he knew he’d have to gear up and haul out around ten, but he left the other details to Grant and Ethan. Ethan did the driving and Grant handled the tech. He was only muscle and guns for this little trip.
“Everyone know what the hell they’re doing?” Birch’s voice rose, snaring Cole’s attention once more.
“Your decision is final. You’re not letting me take part in this op?” Pike’s voice dropped to a low growl, the words rumbling through the room.
“Pike…” Declan matched his younger brother’s growl, but the pup kept talking as if he didn’t hear the wolf.
Pike stood and squared off against Birch. “Declan came to me for help. You can’t—”
Well, maybe Cole would get a chance to work off his excess energy before they had to leave. There was a lot his tiger would tolerate. Like the Energizer Bunny, he’d keep going and going and going…until someone fucked with what belonged to him.
Cole didn’t have a family—he had the four men around the table.
“Puppy.” He rolled to his feet, his movement smooth courtesy of his cat. He placed his palms on the worn tabletop and leaned forward. “You need to think real hard before you finish that thought, ’cause it sounds like you’re giving my team alpha an order. But you know better than to do that, don’t you?”
Amber eyes met Cole’s, Pike’s wolf riding the edge of the other man’s control. He was a big wolf—rivaling Declan in size and strength—but Cole had the man in height and pure bulk. He didn’t want to get into a fight with Pike, but he would. The team could give Birch shit, but no one else. Not unless they wanted to meet Cole’s claws up close and personal.
Pike clenched his teeth, jaw flexing, and a vein throbbed in his temple, but he remained silent.
“Puppy?” Cole quirked a brow. “You weren’t demanding anything from Birch, were you?”
“Pike,” Declan snapped.
“No.” Pike ripped his gaze from Cole and turned his stare to the map.
“All right, then.” Cole eased back into his seat. The moment he relaxed into the chair, conversation returned, the others murmuring, plotting, and planning.
It didn’t take long for Birch to finish issuing orders and end their little meeting. They had their assignments. Now it was a matter of execute and regroup. Each member of the team peeled away. They all had their own prep rituals—including Cole.
Which was how he ended up outside, sitting on the edge of Pike’s back porch, and…listening in on Pike’s phone call. A call that included statements like, “on my way” and “Palm Island.”
Cole strode after the pup, his anger rising hot and fast as he realized Pike was telling someone about their plans. Only to have a large presence block his path.
A wave of strength—dominance—crashed over him just as a single order sank into his mind. “Stay.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Abby wouldn’t look at him. Hadn’t looked at him from the moment they climbed into the car. It’d been just north of forty-eight hours since Declan had wrenched Abby from SHOC custody, and hopefully the ordeal would be over soon.
The three of them—him, Birch, and Abby—had left Pike’s tasked with retrieving the tablet.
Declan talked to Birch and Birch talked back.
Birch talked to Abby and Abby murmured back.
But when Declan tried to hold a damn conversation with her, he got half-stuttered answers and her flat-out refusal to even look his way.
Abby was hiding something. Declan knew it just like he knew how to assemble a Glock blindfolded while parajumping. He knew it just like he knew how to kill a man with one finger. And he knew it like he knew the curves of her body and the moans she made just before she came.
What he didn’t know was what she was lying about. But he would soon. She couldn’t keep up her game of pretend forever.
Cole, Ethan, and Grant were off breaking into Ogilve, Piers, and Patterson
in search of any additional data on FosCo, along with information on the accounting firm’s other clients. Clients that might have deep, long-standing ties to Unified Humanity as well.
Pike hadn’t been included in their plans. He was a “civilian” despite his past association with SHOC.
Which left Declan with Birch at his back and Abby…lying to him.
Birch piloted the small boat they’d “borrowed.” A quick little thing that would get them from the shore to Pine Island and back again. They didn’t need fancy, just fast.
Abby sat near the bow, clinging to the side of the craft. The vessel sped across the black waters, wind tugging at her blond hair. He wanted to be back at Pike’s, wrapped around her, his face buried in that hair. Instead they were on a damned boat and hunting for a tablet that hopefully held proof of FosCo’s activities and a ticket to safety for Abby.
Declan eased forward, carefully making his way to Abby, and he slid onto the bench seat behind her. Even with the sticky, briny scent of the sea surrounding them, he could still capture her natural smell. Crisp air. Dew-touched trees. Sweet like flowers. And so fucking sexy. His cock was hard just thinking about her, smelling her, and when he let his mind wander toward imagining her naked…
He dropped his head forward and leaned into Abby, resting his forehead on her shoulder. He managed to swallow his groan—barely. She tilted her head to the side, rubbing her cheek on his skull.
Because she was driven to by her cat? Or was it a feline apology for lying?
Probably a little of both.
He turned his head so his lips brushed her ear. “Abby,” he murmured. “Wanna tell me why you’re—”
But she cut him off. Not letting him finish the question. “We’re close. Birch should slow down.”
Declan sighed. “When we beach, you’re going to tell me why you’re lying.”
She blinked at him, eyes wide, guileless. He could practically read her mind. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
“I…” She grimaced, a hint of guilt fluttering across her features. “We’re not beaching. He should stop about twenty feet from the south end.”
“He—”
“Go tell him before he gets too close and can’t stop before he comes up against the rocks.” Abby nudged him with her shoulder, and he gave her a glare. One that would have frightened the average person. Apparently making her come ruined his ability to intimidate her.
Declan half turned and held his hand out to Birch, hand flat and palm facing his team alpha. Then he brought it to his forehead, palm down as if he saluted Birch when he was telling the bear to keep an eye out.
The engine dropped to a low idle, momentum and the current carrying the vessel forward. The small waves rocked the boat, and his wolf’s hearing picked up the low whoosh of water lapping at the island’s shore.
“We’re here,” Abby whispered, and Declan formed a fist, silently instructing Birch to cut the engine entirely.
Once silence surrounded them, Birch moved close. Even with the boat swaying, the bear shifter looked damned intimidating when he crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone wanna tell me why we’re stopping so far out?”
Declan turned his attention to the woman who’d dragged their asses to some nothing of an island. “Abby?”
She kept quiet and turned her gaze to the bottom of the boat, but that didn’t mean she was motionless. Nah, he couldn’t get that lucky. Because as he and Birch watched, she snared the hem of her shirt and pulled it upward.
Declan reached for her, snatching the fabric and tugging it back down. “What are you doing?”
She scrunched her nose. “Can I tell you later?”
He leaned closer and drew in a deep breath. The sting of unease with a hint of worry and fear burned his nose. His wolf wanted to sneeze and banish the scent. Declan simply wanted to know what the fuck was going on. “No. You can tell me now.”
Abby grimaced.
“Abby…” He added a little growl, his beast finally realizing all was not well.
“Um…” She nibbled her lower lip.
At least until Birch’s feral growl vibrated the air around them. “Tell us.”
“It’s in an underwater cave.”
Declan couldn’t help it; he roared. “It’s—” He cut off the rest of his question, remembering they were trying to be quiet. “This isn’t something you could have revealed before we left the coast? We would have stolen a diver’s boat.”
Abby propped her hands on her hips, one cocked slightly to the side when she shifted her weight. “It’s only mostly underwater. I don’t exactly swim out here with climbing gear. I go in from the bottom.”
“You’re not going—” Declan started.
“She is.” The bear cut him off. “She’s got this. She goes down, she gets it, she comes back, and we’re out. We’re spending more time arguing than it’d take her to go and return.”
Declan dropped his head forward and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw Birch overboard and then tie up Abby so she couldn’t do something stupid like jump off the boat.
Unfortunately, the idea came too late. Because Abby…jumped off the boat.
He spun in place, eyes searching the darkness, and found a pile of clothes where she should have been standing. He rushed to the side and peered over, glaring at the trail of bubbles that popped to the surface of the water. A shimmer of golden fur shined through the darkness, the moon’s light caressing her partially shifted form, and then she was gone. Swallowed by the midnight waters.
“Dammit, Abby.” He snarled and growled, the wolf pissed at what she’d done and even more furious that she wasn’t standing in front of him so he could wring her damn neck.
“Birch.” He shook his head. “If she gets hurt…”
The bear sighed and tipped his head back. “God save me from lovesick males.”
Declan rolled his eyes. “God should save you from pissed-off wolves.”
Because he sure as hell wasn’t lovesick. Cocksick, maybe. But not lovesick.
“Look.” Birch pointed at Declan. “Everyone pulls their weight on this team, and they do what they’re best at.” He pointed at the water. “This is what she’s best at.”
“She’s not part of the fucking team.” He snarled the words, voice low but filled with every ounce of fury his wolf could gather. “She’s a civilian. She’s here because the director is gunning for her and I won’t turn her over to that sadistic fuck. Civilians don’t do shit in the field. It’s why Pike’s not here or with the rest of the team.”
“That’s it? That’s all she is? A civilian who has something that will appease the director and give us more intel on Unified Humanity. Nothing else? She’s got no other connection to you?” Birch lifted a single brow, smirk on his lips, and Declan wanted to claw it right off the smug prick’s face.
Was that all she was? No, but making her more meant she’d be at risk. It meant that tying her life to his could see her roped into an op. If one half of a couple was in, they were both in.
And Declan didn’t want her anywhere near danger.
“Yeah, she’s just a civilian,” he rasped.
“Then when she gets back, we’ll park her with the team and treat her as a civvy.” The dick sounded so damned cocky.
“Fine,” Declan growled. “But no one lays a paw on her. No one.”
Because if they did, he’d rip it off.
Birch just shrugged and turned his attention to the water. They both turned their attention to the dark, churning water, stares unwavering as they waited. Twenty feet down, then another twenty up just to get inside. Then she’d retrace her path. Birch had said it wouldn’t take her too long, but…
But she hadn’t returned. Not in five minutes and not in ten.
His body vibrated with his wolf’s growing frustration and anger, the animal debating between lashing out at Birch and diving into the water himself. A flurry of bubbles, a blossoming of red, and a scent that caused his hair to s
tand on end made the decision.
“Human,” he hissed, and mixed in with the human’s blood now surfacing was the scent of… “Abby.”
Chapter Thirty
Contrary to popular belief, tasting human blood didn’t suddenly turn Abby into a flesh-craving beast intent on murdering all of humanity. Oh, her beast wanted to do some murdering, but not for consumption—for being pissed off. The cat hissed and snarled in the back of her mind, tail whipping and claws flexing and contracting—as if her nails were thirsty for blood as well.
And it wasn’t just any human she wanted, either. She wanted the asshole with the tranq gun. The one who’d shot her just as she exited the cave mouth. The drug had been fast acting, dragging at her the moment the needle pierced flesh. She’d tried to resist her attackers, had even gotten her fangs and claws into one of the men, but soon lost the underwater battle.
She’d been tossed into this fully tiled room, complete with drains set into the floor. It was empty save a shiny metal table and her—shackled to a chair, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. Now she waited to see who’d walk through the door. So far no one had appeared, but she doubted they’d leave her alone forever. Not when they knew who—what—she was.
That was something she recalled during her partially unconscious travels. There’d been hands—rough when they hauled her around. Then voices—snickering, derisive, and taunting.
A familiar one amid them all. Dark, angry, vicious…Eric Foster. Mr. Foster hadn’t been pleased about Abby’s escape or what she’d had in her hands when she’d fled.
Which meant she was with Unified Humanity and hadn’t been taken by another SHOC team. The human blood had been a clue, and this man’s statement locked her guess into place.
“Can’t we make her shift and skin her? She killed Roger.”
Abby had mentally smiled at that one. Roger was dead because she’d torn off a good chunk of his hand and then more than a little of his throat. She hadn’t killed him per se, but she’d nudged his life closer to its end. A lot closer. She hadn’t cared for the “skin her” part of the guy’s statement, though. She liked her skin exactly where it was—on her.