by Sydney Croft
Doing it quickly wasn’t going to make it hurt any less. “So you’re staying?” he asked, and fuck, why was he still stalling for time?
“I can’t leave the animals unprotected,” she said, her eyes begging him to understand. “I want to go with you. I’m just not sure. I believe you when you say that I’m in danger, but who’s going to protect them?”
He drew in a deep breath, letting the oxygen flood his lungs, but he didn’t move his hand off the gun. “If I call in backup now, your choice to join my agency goes out the window,” he said. “And I can’t afford to keep you here that long.”
“Do you think they’ll be safe?”
“I think you’re the main target, so I don’t think they’d waste their time here. But I can’t promise that.” Can’t promise you shit.
He reminded himself that he’d already made her promises, and let his trigger finger curl, as he had so many times before, around the pistol’s hard, worn trigger guard.
One shot, straight through the heart, would kill her instantly. Where that would leave her animals was none of his concern. Where that would leave him should be none of his either.
“I haven’t agreed to join your agency,” she said.
“I know.”
“And you’re not going to force me to join?”
“Have I forced you to do anything you didn’t want to since I’ve been here?” he asked, flashed back to her holding him by the throat against the grass. His free hand moved to his neck, which still bore light bruises, and he wondered if he’d saved her life last night for no good reason.
He could let her run on her own, give her time to escape, hold off Itor. But that would be like giving the fox to the hounds. She wouldn’t have a chance, didn’t know how to hide herself properly. And every spring, she’d be open to anyone’s suggestion.
“No, you haven’t forced me to do anything I didn’t want to.” Her voice was soft, thoughtful. God, he wished she wasn’t watching him like that.
According to Dev, she was far too dangerous to leave alive. Her potential as a biological weapon of mass destruction was too real a threat. That’s what he needed to concentrate on…his job.
“I need to know your choice,” he said, his voice oddly soft.
She opened her mouth, and he knew her answer was still no. Before she could utter a word, he heard a low, menacing chorus of growls coming from the tiger pen behind her. She turned to them and then back to him and his hand stayed steady on the metal, his heart rate slowed.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice a whisper, and he didn’t know if she was asking him or the animals. He surveyed the area, didn’t sense any danger.
When he looked toward the tigers, he noted they were staring directly at him. Shit.
“The animals say I’m in danger,” Kira said. “That there’s someone here who wants to kill me. Tommy, who’s here?”
Ender took full advantage of the situation, trying not to let his voice show his relief that there might be another option. Still, he refused to pull his hand off the trigger. “It could be people from Derek’s team. I’ve told you that they’re coming.”
She bit her bottom lip and moved toward him. The animals’ growling got louder. “When I get settled someplace new, will I be able to get some of my animals? Babs and Spazzy and…”
“Yeah. I’ll make sure of it,” he said. “What does this mean, Kira?”
“Keep me safe, Tommy,” she said. He let out a long breath, and only then did he take his hand out of his bag. He flexed it by his thigh.
Technically, his job wasn’t done—she hadn’t agreed to join the agency, but he could get her to that point. A few more hours wouldn’t matter.
“We’ve got to go. Now,” he said. He heard howls in the distance, as if the other animals were getting in on the act.
“We can take my truck,” she said, pointed to the blue pickup parked across the field. “The keys are already in the ignition.”
“Let’s go.” He took her arm and ran with her to the vehicle. But as they approached, the pungent smell of gasoline hit him, and fuck, maybe the animals weren’t growling only at him. “The gas line’s been cut.”
He pulled Kira behind him, scanned the area and saw nothing. This was not good. If Itor had taken the time to do that, that meant they’d done something to disable each and every vehicle left here overnight.
“What happens now?”
“We go on foot,” he said.
“I’m just going to grab my bag. Is it all right to go into the cab?” she asked.
They wouldn’t have wired the car to blow—Kira was much too valuable for something like that. “It’s fine. But I thought you said you weren’t sure you were going to leave with me?”
She pulled a bright pink backpack from the backseat of the truck. Yeah, that was going to camouflage well. “I always have a bag packed…just in case I have to run.”
“That happens often?” he asked.
“Often enough.”
Speaking of enough…“We’ve got to get the hell out of here and fast. I’ve got some BDUs I’m going to ask you to change into so we can move unnoticed during the day, but for now, keep up as best you can.”
“And if I can’t?”
“I’ll carry you.” He took her by the upper arm and led her into the woods behind the refuge. He saw the tears running down her cheeks, knew there was still more than a little resistance in her gait, but she’d just saved herself. And maybe, somehow, she’d saved him a little too.
CHAPTER
Eleven
THURSDAY 4:30 A.M. MST
Men with guns are bad. Tell others. Warn us.
The coyote paced, watching Kira—but mostly Tom—with suspicion. They’d startled the creature near a stream, and when Kira had called out with her mind, it had nearly tripped over its own feet. Domestic and captive wild animals were rarely surprised when they learned a human could communicate with them, but completely wild animals sometimes reacted badly. Fortunately, of all animal species, wild canines tended to be the most open and curious.
The coyote sniffed the air in all directions, then turned back to Kira. Men bad. She felt the sentiment more than saw it—she usually needed direct contact for images—and then he slipped into the darkness broken by the light of the full moon.
“I think he’ll warn us if he sees more humans.”
Tom nodded, glanced at his watch. “Let’s take a breather. Get hydrated.”
They’d stopped an hour or so ago to have brief but intense sex against a tree, but after more than four hours of moving almost nonstop, she was exhausted and not ashamed to sink down on the ground and rest. The cool Idaho night air felt good against her sweat-dampened skin, and despite the multitude of scratches from branches and bushes, she was glad Tom hadn’t yet insisted that she don the BDUs he’d mentioned. She wondered how the clothes would look with her pink vegan hiking boots.
She gratefully took the water bottle he’d dug out of his bag. “So what happens when we get to this agency of yours?”
She’d been asking him questions since they left, but he hadn’t done more than grunt, so she didn’t expect much.
To her surprise, he looked out over the gurgling stream and said, “You’ll probably be shown the animal facility. Then you’ll be taken to the training quarters to be assigned trainers and a room.”
“If I join. Which I won’t. Ever.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whether you join or not, that’s what’ll happen. Everything at ACRO is strictly structured, and the training program is especially so. Anyone even considering joining has to go through the same process, has to stay on base. It’s for the safety of both ACRO and the recruit.”
“Great,” she muttered. Sounded even more military than the military, and the urge to run, to escape Tom and his agency, struck her again. If her season hadn’t started, she would have, but leaving now meant certain death. “I still don’t understand any of this. Like, why is Derek’s agency trying to kill
me?”
He glanced at her, and then looked away. “Because they’d rather see you dead than in our hands.”
“Why? Why am I so important that it’s better to kill me than let another agency have me? Because if anyone thinks I’ll train animals for war or some crap, there’s no way.”
“That’s not what we want you for.”
When he didn’t offer any more in the way of explanation, she sighed. “So what’ll happen when we get to ACRO and I need you? How will that work? Do they know about my situation? Will they understand?”
His fingers tightened around his water bottle, and she scented a note of irritation coming from him. Maybe she was asking too many questions, but dammit, this was her life.
“It won’t be me, Kira.”
“Oh.”
She snapped her mouth shut, both hurt and embarrassed. Of course she shouldn’t have expected Tom to be there for her later, but…
Idiot. I’m such a freakin’ idiot.
Her face burned, and she was suddenly grateful for the early morning shadows. And why did his answer bother her anyway? Why should she feel even a small measure of hurt? Tom had made it clear that his job was to get her out of here alive. Nothing more. His life would probably improve considerably once she was out of his hair and rolling around with someone else.
Oh, God. What if…? “Will there be someone? They won’t let me die, right? Not after all this.”
Her voice had gone shaky and high-pitched and she didn’t care, because panic had set in. Panic that she’d have to mate with someone—maybe multiple someones—she’d trust even less than Tom. Panic that she might have no control over getting what she needed when she needed it.
The memory of the jail cell two years ago was still too fresh in her mind.
Tom didn’t look at her. “ACRO has people who can deal specifically with your situation.”
“People who just have sex? What kind of crazy operation do you work for?”
“Trust me, it’ll make sense soon.” He finally swung his gaze around to her. “And the Medical Division might even be able to come up with some sort of cure. A way to deal with your spring fever without sex.”
“Really?” Her heart soared before she could bring it back down to earth, where it wouldn’t shatter from the inevitable fall. “They could do that?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
For a moment, she let herself dream of life after a cure. She’d long ago given up on any hope that she’d have a normal existence, but if Tom’s agency could give her that…
“I’d be able to do so many things,” she breathed. “I could have friends. Maybe a family. Oh! And sex during the entire year.”
Tom frowned. “You don’t have sex except during your fever?”
She shook her head. “I learned a long time ago that my situation doesn’t bode well for relationships. As soon as my season starts, women turn on me because their boyfriends and husbands paw at me. And whatever guy I’m dating thinks my sex drive is cool for a couple of days, but then, when he can’t keep up…well, let’s just say it isn’t pretty.”
Not pretty at all. During the years she’d been on her own, she’d had her vehicles and houses vandalized, painted with the words slut and whore, had been threatened, attacked, refused service in stores and restaurants, and much more than she’d ever shared with anyone.
“All of my relationships end in a lot of pain.” Usually, though, the pain was one-sided. All hers.
“Why relationships, then? Why not just screw around? Have fun?”
“Because I screw around with strangers enough during the spring. With all the weirdos out there, why risk danger more than I have to? And the last thing I want to do is make people think I’m more of a whore than they already do.”
“No one at ACRO will think you’re a whore.”
“No matter how many men are sent to service me?” she asked quietly, and she caught another whiff of irritation.
He stood abruptly, dug some water purification tablets out of his bag and added one to each of their bottles. “We need to move out.” He took the bottles, sauntered to the stream and filled them.
“You didn’t answer me.”
He tucked the bottles back into his bag. “No matter how many,” he said tightly. Then he hefted his bag and hers onto his shoulder and held out a hand to help her off the ground. “Now, let’s go.
THE EARLY MORNING IDAHO DARKNESS posed no problem for Ryan, not when he was thousands of miles away and looking through the eyes of an excedosapien with natural night vision. The I-Agent, Jarrod Warren, spoke softly into his headset, letting Ryan know his every move.
First-mission jitters. Why Itor had sent in this rookie as secondary backup was a mystery, but then, Itor often did things that left Ryan shaking his head. Too many generals and not enough grunts made Itor more disorganized and more top-heavy than ACRO, which led to conflicting orders, rescinded orders…total chaos at times.
“Where’s your partner?” Ryan asked, and Jarrod looked off toward a barn he hoped looked better during the day than it did at night.
“I don’t know. Gina was standing right there by that haystack.”
Unease settled in Ryan’s gut, but he had no idea why. The disappearance of Jarrod’s partner, an experienced pyrokinetic, probably meant that ACRO had arrived on scene at the animal refuge and was cleaning up. Had they also grabbed the animal whisperer and taken out the second Itor team? He wouldn’t know; he wasn’t Team Two’s comms handler.
“I’m going to find Gina,” Jarrod whispered, and Ryan sat back in his office chair, allowing his mind to absorb the sights Jarrod took in—like the shadow in the corner of his vision. Ryan heard a grunt, and then suddenly he was looking at the starry sky. Jarrod groaned, blinked repeatedly until a female face descended.
Annika?
The blond woman smiled, and yes, it was Annika. He’d know that frosty grin anywhere. There wasn’t a single male at ACRO who wouldn’t love to melt the bergs that flowed through her veins.
Of course, no one would dare try. Even those who might be willing to risk their lives to her dangerous talents wouldn’t think of trespassing on their boss’s territory. Everyone knew Dev and Annika had a thing, and only an idiot with a death wish would screw with either one of them.
Annika cocked her head and stared into Jarrod’s eyes—Ryan’s eyes—and his heart rate doubled. The things she could do to him, pleasant and unpleasant—God, maybe at the same time—icy sweat broke out on his forehead. He couldn’t feel what Jarrod was feeling, but he saw what the other man saw, could feel the intensity in Annika’s gaze.
“Where is the animal whisperer?” she asked, her voice tinny through the headset’s static. “Is there another team?”
“Long gone,” Jarrod moaned, and suddenly the view went fuzzy.
Blinding flashes of light burst behind Ryan’s eyelids. He cried out and blasted backward in his chair. Everything went black, and he had to blink a few times to bring his own vision back into the light.
Annika had just shocked the shit out of Jarrod. Ryan shouldn’t feel sorry for an Itor agent, but he did. A lot of Itor’s operatives thought they were playing for the good guys.
Taking a steadying breath, he pushed his intercom button. Team Two’s comms handler answered.
“I lost my team,” Ryan said, hoping the other man would say the same. Laughter boomed in his ears.
“My team is in pursuit of the animal whisperer. She’s being protected by only one ACRO puss. We’ll have them both in a matter of hours.”
“I’ll inform Mr. Blake.” Ryan hung up and clenched his teeth. He prayed whoever had been charged to protect Kira was good—the best—because Team Two had experience and not a small amount of insanity going for it.
Kira and her agent could be in for the fight of their lives.
CHAPTER
Twelve
THURSDAY 10 A.M. EST
Creed kicked open the door to the main conference room with one
heavily booted foot and entered, bringing with him a buzz of energy that disrupted every mind in the room, except Dev’s, scattered their psychic senses like marbles and left them shaking their heads to clear them.
Creed’s physical appearance didn’t help—even to those who knew him, he came across as more than a little shocking. A broad six feet, five inches, long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, and piercings that ran up his left ear, his chin, a labret through his eyebrow, a ball through his tongue—Dev didn’t want to know if there were any more hidden ones. Add to that the tattoos that covered the right half of his face, neck and body giving him a yinyang appearance that unnerved even the most jaded of ACRO operatives. Forget people from the real world.
The head-to-toe black leather also added a nice touch.
Creed ignored everyone to hone in on Dev, just as Dev knew he would. And Dev felt an instant twang of relief on seeing the younger ghost translator—the first time anything or anyone had taken the edge off since last night when the spirit made its appearance.
“You’re early,” Dev said.
“I thought we weren’t calling in ghost hunters anymore after that last incident with the Bell Witch,” one of the older psychics sniffed, referencing the spirit that Creed supposedly descended from. Dev made a mental note to send one of the male Seducers, or two, to her house later that night. She needed something to improve her outlook.
“I made the appointment with Devlin, not the other way around,” Creed lied, just the way Dev had asked him to. “A private appointment. And leave the Bell Witch out of his. That bitch doesn’t need any more press.”
“You’re always supposed to go through your supervisor before calling a private meeting with Devlin,” Henry said.
“Bite. Me.” Creed sent another burst of energy out that Dev felt like a shot in the chest. The guy didn’t even realize he did that, and none of the ACRO staff had been able to figure out how to help him control it. Until then, Dev figured it was a secret best kept from Creed.
“Enough. Meeting’s over. And I’ll go over protocol with Creed myself.” Dev waited until the only energy he felt in the room was Creed’s, then motioned to the bigger man to follow him down the hall and into Dev’s private office.