The Unnaturals (The Unnaturals Series Book 1)

by Jessica Meigs

  “Is ‘no’ even an option?” Scott asked. He managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice at Zachariah’s subtle reference to his past. It had been a long time since he’d felt like he had control and choice in his life. But that was the price he paid to do the job he did; it wasn’t like he’d been unaware of the consequences when he’d signed on with the Agency. He had no one to blame but himself for that.

  “Has ‘no’ ever been an option?” Riley retorted. Scott glanced at her and found that she still stared at him. As their eyes met, she diverted her gaze to Brandon and Zachariah. “So does this little group of vampire-hunting agents have a name?”

  “The Agency for the Monitoring and Control of Unnatural Beings,” Brandon said, reading the title from a piece of paper. “That’s a mouthful, so we usually call it The Unnaturals for short. Officially, the group doesn’t exist. And your participation in it won’t be noted in your Agency personnel files. It’s firmly in the ultra-classified, black-ops category.”

  “Invisible ops,” Riley commented. “I like it. Makes this whole thing sound more exciting.” Scott had to admit that it did have a nice ring to it, though it still didn’t excite him about working for the group. After everything he’d been through, he preferred his life to stay linear, to stay in the realm of “reality” and “making sense.” Zachariah and Brandon and that surly man who’d left were throwing them into a scenario where they would be facing something they’d never seen before—something that shouldn’t have existed. Regardless of his misgivings, Scott focused on the men in front of him and tried to sound like he was game for the new assignment.

  “So when do we start?”

  “Not right away,” Brandon said. “At least, we hope not. We have an assignment related to one I’m working on for you two first. While Riley has experience working in a partnership out in the field, you do not, so this will be a learning experience for you.” He pushed a sealed manila envelope toward them. It was red, like the folder he’d been referring to throughout the conversation, but this one was thinner. Scott tore it open and peeked into the envelope before offering it to Riley for her own perusal.

  “A smash-and-grab?” Riley asked as she peered inside without pulling anything out. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s not a smash-and-grab,” Brandon retorted. “And if I find out you smashed something in the process of retrieving the item, I’ll personally see to it that you’re censured.”

  “Well, that sounds promising,” Scott muttered.

  “You two should head on out,” Zachariah suggested. He pushed a credit card-sized folder toward them, and Scott discovered it contained two hotel room passkeys to the Hilton down the street. “Spend time getting to know each other,” he added. “Start gathering your information and work out a plan. But don’t be fooled by the seeming simplicity of the job. It’s important that you obtain the item listed as soon as you’re able to.” He tossed another card at them. “A credit card for any expenses you incur,” he explained. “Try to not go crazy. We want you to stay low-key. If you require weapons or tools that we offer, get in touch with me or with Ashton. There will be a drop at the hotel with a few necessities for you.” He added a business card with his name and number printed on it to the stack. “And don’t forget to meet with Ashton tomorrow at nine. I’m going to try to be there, but as I’m in the middle of my own assignment, I can’t guarantee anything. So you may have to deal with him on your own.” He winked and grinned. “I’m sure you can manage, right?”

  “One can only hope,” Scott muttered. He rose from his chair, scooped up the passkeys and credit card, and tucked them into his back pocket before motioning to Riley. “Come on, Ms. Walker. Bring the file, would you? We really should get busy on all of this.”

  Riley stood and picked the envelope up, waving it at Brandon. “How long do we have to complete this assignment?” she asked. “The shorter the time, the happier I’ll be.”

  Brandon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with a thoughtful expression on his face. He and Zachariah shared a look as if they were communicating mind-to-mind; the thought of Brandon Hall being capable of telepathy was frightening. Then Brandon answered, “A week. And you’re to use the entire week, unless the object in question is in danger of being taken out from under you. Don’t rush into the assignment so you can get it over with. You’re supposed to use it to get to know each other. So don’t slack on the task. Do what you’re told.”

  “Take the fun out of everything, would you?” Riley shot back, the faintest grin on her face. She beckoned to Scott and added, “Come on. Let’s get started, shall we?” Then she picked up the backpack by her chair and turned her back on the two men at the conference table. As she did so, Scott noticed that her grin disappeared, and a scowl replaced it. The smoothness of the transition was startling, and Scott bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything. Instead, he nodded and opened the door to let her exit ahead of him. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Riley began to walk at a brisk pace toward the elevators, not looking at him as he hurried to keep up. They stayed silent on the entire ride down to the ground floor, and as the door slid open, Scott finally spoke.

  “So what’s the plan, Ms. Walker?”

  “It’s not ‘Ms. Walker,’” she retorted. “It’s Riley. So stop calling me that. And why are you asking me for the plan?”

  “Because you’re the one with the experience working in partnerships,” Scott said. He held the exit door open for her, and they both emerged into the muggy summer air. He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling free his sunglasses and putting them on to reduce the glare of the sun against the sidewalks and glass of the buildings around them. “I don’t know how you and Anderson used to do this—”

  “That’s none of your business,” Riley started. Scott’s hand darted out and grabbed her by the upper arm, his fingers wrapping around her bicep before he realized he’d done it. He drew her to a stop and made her turn to face him, pulling her closer so the passersby walking on either side of them wouldn’t overhear.

  “Look, Riley, I know you don’t want to work with me,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You did a great job of making that obvious in the conference room. I’m not thrilled to be doing this either. I’m supposed to be on leave, and I’ve been pulled off of it early for this bullshit babysitting job. So stop with the bitchy pity party, please? I’m not in the mood to deal with it.”

  Riley stared at him for a moment, her eyes trying to seek out his own through his dark sunglasses. She looked like she wanted to argue with him, wanted to protest his usage of the word “babysitting.” But instead, she just shook her head and jarred her arm free from his grasp, motioning for him to follow her. “Kevin and I used to pass ourselves off as a couple, sometimes married, sometimes not, depending on where we were staying and what the assignment entailed,” she said. She began to walk toward the hotel. Scott wondered if the “couple” part of hers and Kevin’s partnership had been an act; judging by the way she reacted every time mention of the man arose, he doubted it. “That’s why the Agency has paired us together,” Riley continued. “We can claim to be in a relationship to look more credible and draw less attention to us. I just don’t like sharing rooms with a man I don’t know.” She looked him up and down, as if she were trying to assess something about him, before she turned away and added, “Hopefully, someone caught a clue and remembered to get a room with double beds. If they didn’t, I’m so kicking some ass.”

  ~*~

  Zachariah waited until the conference room’s glass doors swung shut behind Scott and Riley before he spun his chair around to face Brandon, letting his concern show for the first time since he’d entered the room. He watched as Brandon collected the papers that had been scattered across the table during the course of the meeting before he spoke up to voice his concern. “Are you sure we’re making the right move here inviting these two into The Unnaturals?”

  “I’m positive of it,” Brandon said
with confidence that Zachariah didn’t feel. “They’re perfect for the job. They’re both smart, hard working, and able to follow orders—despite Riley’s attitude. They have the best success-to-failure ratio in the entire Agency.” He tapped the edge of the papers against the table to straighten them. “Are you doubting my judgment?”

  “Not at all,” Zachariah said. There was no fear of reprisals or reprimands—they were the same rank in the Agency, just within parallel branches. Despite that, Zachariah felt the need to placate the man. “It’s just that I still have some doubts that Riley Walker is psychologically stable enough to work for The Unnaturals. She’s got a rap sheet a mile long, and that’s from before she was recruited; I’m not even considering her arrest record during assignments. It seems to me she’s only gotten worse since someone put a gun and unlimited funds into her hands.”

  “She’s not that bad,” Brandon started.

  “You’re talking through the lens of a former lover,” Zachariah pointed out. “That’s not doing her favors. She’s going to get handed over to Internal Affairs if she keeps up the attitude of being able to do whatever she wants, and you know that. You’ve sent other agents before the board for less. But you continue to let her get away with murder—probably literally—and validate her behavior by not reprimanding her.”

  “It has not been confirmed that she had anything to do with Kevin Anderson’s murder,” Brandon argued.

  “You treated her at the time like she did,” Zachariah said. “You had her investigated, and rightfully so. Anderson was shot twice with the same caliber bullets she was packing, and the tests to see if they came from her rifle were inconclusive.”

  “What are you saying, Zachariah?” Brandon asked. “That I should send her in front of Internal Affairs anyway? She’d never survive that. And why do you think Henry offered up Scott Hunter to pair with her?”

  “I don’t know, just for shits and giggles?” Zachariah suggested. “She’s a live wire, Brandon. She acts like she’s exposed at both ends. If she’s willing to kill her partner—”

  “You read the report she filed,” Brandon interrupted. “She described what you guys hunt. She saw a vampire. Why the fuck do you think I passed the files over to you? That was something right up your alley.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain why she got away alive, why she was allowed to leave alive,” Zachariah retorted. He sat up straighter, gritting his teeth and shaking his hair back from his head. “And the lack of details in the report leads me to question whether or not she was working with the woman she claims ripped Anderson’s throat out.”

  “They were together! Why would she want him dead?”

  “I don’t know,” Zachariah said. “Maybe they had a fight? There are too many question marks hanging over her head, and you made sure of that when you let every agent in this organization run with the idea that she was insane. You have no idea the rumors I’ve heard.”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” Brandon snapped. “The Unnaturals aren’t supposed to exist! It was better to put her on administrative leave for a month and medicate the hell out of her while we played up a mock investigation and—”

  “And you should have found her guilty,” Zachariah replied. “Set an example. Make sure word of The Unnaturals didn’t get out.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” Brandon said. “She’s too damn good. You know half of the successfully completed assignments from last year were under her supervision? She’s a workaholic. She’s taken on everything we threw at her without question, and she did a damn good job. We can’t toss her out on the street or get rid of her unless she fucks up hardcore.”

  Zachariah reclined back in his chair, shaking his head as he studied Brandon’s face and posture. The man was on the defensive, and not just over his discipline of Riley Walker—or lack thereof. It didn’t take an idiot to figure out what was going on. The man still had feelings for Riley.

  This wasn’t unusual. Every agent recruited into the Agency went through two years of mandatory training with an assigned mentor. The life of an agent-in-training was difficult, a life that put them all in the position of dealing with a kill-or-be-killed world. It wasn’t uncommon for a lot of trainees to turn to their mentors for solace and comfort. Brandon had been Riley’s mentor for the entire two years she’d been in training and then, in an unusual move within the Agency, had transitioned as her handler. Brandon was doing what came naturally—defending Riley. It was human nature, he supposed. But that didn’t lessen the questions arising in his mind regarding Brandon’s effectiveness as her handler.

  “You’ve been compromised, Brandon,” Zachariah said. Brandon’s eyes darted to him; he ignored the ugly look the man gave him and continued. “Your feelings are clouding your judgment. There’s nothing wrong with that. It happens to the best of us. The key is acknowledging when it becomes a problem so you can step aside and let someone else take over.” He paused, letting that sink in, before he dropped a bomb that he’d repeatedly dropped before without success. “Transfer her to me.”

  “Why? So you can pass her off to the Internal Affairs department?” Brandon demanded. “Hell no!”

  “She’s already got Internal Affairs on her.”

  “Scott Hunter is no longer a member of Internal Affairs,” Brandon said.

  “Then have him re-instated.”

  “He won’t do it. Not after what happened to his family. And I don’t blame him in the slightest.”

  “I thought I made my wishes clear,” Zachariah said, dropping the placating tone and letting authority eek into his voice. “I thought I laid out exactly what I needed weeks ago. I said I needed Riley Walker in The Unnaturals, and Ash wanted Scott Hunter to keep an eye on her. I also said I needed you to step down as her handler and let me take over. Why are you having such a problem with this? If she’s done nothing wrong, then that will show itself in the end, and The Unnaturals will have a valuable new asset. Why are you so adamant that she not go near Internal Affairs? Are you hiding something for her?”

  Brandon remained silent long enough to stir up Zachariah’s suspicions. The quiet hung between them as he mulled over the possibilities. Just when he was about to break the silence, Brandon sighed and said, “Fine. I’ll make arrangements to get Hunter officially back into Internal Affairs and assigned to monitor Riley. And I’ll sign her over to you. Is that good enough for you?”

  “Perfect.” Zachariah stood, checked that his weapons were secured, and stepped past Brandon. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said before strolling into the hall, letting the door fall shut behind him.

  He had to track down Ashton Miller. They had a lot to talk about.

  Chapter Four

  On their arrival at the Hilton, Riley wrinkled her nose as she pushed the room’s door open and discovered that the Agency hadn’t gotten them a room with double beds. She stopped at the end of the short entry hall and scowled at the plush, king-sized bed with its massive pillows and white bedspread. It looked comfortable, delicious, but she didn’t fall onto it like she ached to. Instead, she folded her arms and shook her head. “No. I don’t think so,” she said. Without turning to look at Scott, she demanded, “Go downstairs to the front desk and tell them to move us to a room with two beds.”

  “What happened to following orders?” Scott replied. “This is the room the Agency reserved, so this is the room we’re staying in. End of argument.” There was a rustle of papers, and then he added, “‘Stephen and Richelle Hampstead.’ Looks like they’re going the married couple route for the cover story.”

  Riley raised an eyebrow, ignoring everything he’d said after the names. “Hampstead? Richelle?” she repeated. “Good God, Brandon must have come up with those names.” She gave up her post in the hallway and went to the bed, dropping Linus the Backpack on the floor and indulging in the urge to flop onto the end of the bed. There were chocolate mints on a little plate near the center of the bed. She swiped the mints off the plate and stuffed them into he
r pocket. “The man never comes up with names that remotely match the appearance of the agent.”

  “You must not know Henry Cage that well. He’s worse,” Scott said. “I went through an entire mission once with an ID that said I was Billy Joe Johnson. Do I look like a Billy Joe?” Riley started to laugh, until she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to like Scott. So she bit the sound back and watched as he sank into the ergonomic chair at the desk, dropping the envelope onto the desktop and spinning the chair to look at Riley. “So, did you buy that line of bullshit they were trying to feed us?”

  “Which line of bullshit?” Riley asked, staring at the ceiling. It was one of those popcorn affairs, painted white, with a faint brown stain of water damage near the windows, probably from the room right above theirs. “The line about the partnership, or the line about the vampires?”

  “The vampires, of course,” Scott replied. “What is it with you and partnerships?”

  “I don’t do them,” Riley said.

  “You used to.”

  Riley scowled and fell onto her back, biting down a groan of pain as her sore muscles seized up when they were stretched flat. “How about we discuss the assignment and not my work preferences?” she suggested. She resumed her staring at the ceiling, listening as Scott sighed and spun his chair back around to the desk. “Tell me what it says about the assignment,” she ordered, scavenging one of the mints from her pocket and starting to unwrap it. “I didn’t get a chance to look back at headquarters.”

  “We’re expected to complete the assignment no later than next Wednesday,” Scott said. His voice was muffled, as if he were turned away and looking down at the paperwork. Riley had a flash of memory rip through her mind of a man siting at a desk in France, and she blinked it away as Scott continued. “We’re after some type of wooden box. It doesn’t say what it is or what it contains, but judging by the lack of details in the Agency report, it’s probably important that we get our hands on it.” He tossed a photograph to her, and she snagged it off the mattress and held it above her face to study it. The box in the photo was round, with concave sides and a lid on top. It was black, faded with age and unadorned.