Nicole allowed a cold smile to curve her lips. She was pleased that the guard recognized her. She wanted him to know exactly why he was about to die.
“Yes, me.” She watched as he shakily shoved himself off the couch, his face a pasty shade of ash. “Hello, Ian.”
The man inched to the side. Was he hoping he could somehow sneak his way to the front door?
Idiot.
“How did you find me?”
She released a short laugh that echoed through the room. “Did you think you could avoid justice forever?”
He held up his hands in an unspoken plea for mercy. “Listen, what happened-”
“You mean the cold-blooded murder of my son?” she interrupted, ice coating each word.
He licked his lips, a trickle of sweat inching from his forehead down his unshaven cheek. He didn’t look the same as the guard who’d shot Bowe.
Although she’d only gotten a brief glance, the man’s face had been seared into her mind.
Now she realized that he’d lost at least twenty pounds. His clothes hung on his gaunt frame as if he couldn’t be bothered to buy anything that fit. And his hair had thinned. There were also new lines on his face, giving him the appearance of having aged at least twenty years instead of seven.
But the biggest change was the lack of swagger.
Even after shooting a mere child, he’d strutted around as if he’d done something amazing. Today, he looked as if he’d spent the past years on a drunken binge.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he whined.
“Lies.” She stepped forward as the coward continued to inch to the side. Tucker followed closely behind her, his heat wrapping around her with unspoken support. “Your fellow guards already told me that you pulled the trigger.”
“I was ordered to do it,” Ian told her.
Continuing to prowl forward, she made a sound of disgust. “Convenient.”
“No, please.” He bumped into the tall entertainment center behind him, more sweat trickling down his face. “You have to believe me.”
“Nicole.” Tucker covertly brushed his hand down her rigid back. The warmth of his touch was an anchor that allowed her to find her way through the red mist that clouded her mind.
“Talk,” she snapped.
The man’s gaze briefly flickered toward Tucker before returning to Nicole. Clearly he didn’t realize that Tucker was an even greater threat than she was. No surprise. Without a collar or a brand, it was impossible for humans to determine who was or was not a shifter.
That was one of the reasons many people were so anxious to keep them locked behind walls.
“The SAU recruited me to become a guard at the River Pack compound,” he said.
She frowned, not missing the key word. “Recruited from where?”
“The military.”
She studied the wiry form that she could break in two. He didn’t look like a person anyone would choose as a guard.
“Why would they recruit you?”
“Because I was a sharp-shooter.”
She regarded him with growing suspicion. She didn’t give a shit why he’d become a guard. All that mattered was the fact that he’d pulled the trigger. He’d murdered her son.
But the certainty that he was hiding something nagged at the edge of her mind.
Dammit.
Now she had to know.
“There’s a lot of sharp-shooters,” she pointed out, the wolf in her fighting to be released so she could taste his blood on her tongue. “Why you?”
He gave a lift of his shoulder. “I’m the best.”
Her lips curled back, revealing her elongated fangs. “He isn’t going to tell the truth,” she told Tucker with a flare of satisfaction. “I may as well rip out his throat.”
Tucker moved to stand at her side, his arms folded over his massive chest.
“Go for it.”
The man gave a desperate shake of his head. “Hold on.”
Nicole tried to step forward, only to be halted when Tucker grasped the back of her sweater, firmly keeping her in place.
Ignoring her companion, she glared at the face that still haunted her dreams.
“Say it,” she snarled.
His hands gripped the shelves behind him as if his knees were weak with fear. Like most bullies, he turned into a groveling chicken when confronted by someone stronger than him.
“I’d been accused of shooting a fellow solider in the back.”
She heard Tucker hiss a breath through his clenched teeth. He had an ingrained sense of integrity, and would be deeply offended by the man’s confession.
“Why did you shoot him?” she demanded.
Pale eyes flickered. A sure sign that he was about to tell a lie. “It was an accident,” he said. “I was cleaning my gun and it fired.”
“And the real reason?” Nicole insisted.
There was a short hesitation before Ian revealed the truth. “I wanted his bunk.”
Heat blasted from Tucker’s big body. “Shit.”
Nicole grimaced. “You’re truly sick,” she muttered.
The human hunched his shoulders. “You wanted the truth.”
Suddenly, Nicole understood why the secret agency would decide this man was suitable to wear their uniform.
Not every human would be willing to shoot an innocent man in the back just because he wanted his bed.
“So the SAU wanted a sharp-shooter without morals,” she said.
Ian didn’t look offended. Either he’d accepted that he was a depraved bastard, or he was a straight up psychopath, unable to comprehend the depths of his evil.
The knowledge twisted Nicole’s stomach with aching sadness. This empty shell of a man had stolen a bright, beautiful light from this world.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he muttered.
As if sensing her distress, Tucker ran his hand up and down her back, glaring at the unfeeling monster.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Director Markham had just taken control of the Denver Division, and he wanted to crack down on the wolves.”
Nicole scowled. She’d seen the Director from a distance, but he rarely came to the compound.
“Why would he want to crack down?”
Ian shrugged. “He felt like the Alpha of the wolves hadn’t given him the proper respect during their first meeting. He wanted to send a message.”
“He ordered the death of a child because he didn’t get the respect he thought he deserved?” Nicole breathed in disbelief.
The man continued to grip the shelf behind his back, his eyes averted as if he were considering how much to reveal before Nicole snapped and ripped out his throat.
Smart man. Nicole could already feel her claws slicing through the tips of her fingers and her fangs throbbing with the need to sink into his flesh.
“Those weren’t his exact words,” he slowly confessed.
“What did he say?”
Ian nervously transferred his weight from one foot to the other.
“He wanted us to keep an eye out for any infractions, and publically punish the offenders so the animals would know that the new Director wasn’t going to take any shit.”
Nicole stared at him in pained disbelief. “And you decided to kill my son?”
“It was an impulsive decision.” His gaze flickered around the dark, filthy room. “And trust me, I’ve paid for it.”
Paid for it? Nicole hissed as the red mist of fury once again clogged her brain.
“No, you haven’t,” she snarled. His face turned a paler shade of ash, as her wolf flashed in her eyes. “But you will.”
“I swear I’ve suffered,” he desperately pleaded for his life. “I was sacked from my job, and threatened with being fed to the wolves if I ever spoke about this to anyone. What else do you want from me?”
“Your blood.”
His gaze locked on her exposed fangs, his entire body shaking with fear.
“Killing me won’t bring your son back.”
“It�
��ll allow him to rest in peace.”
“Fine, if you want to punish someone, then it should be Markham.” Ian readily tossed his boss under the bus. Clearly the old saying was true. There was no honor among thieves. “He’s the one who sought me out and put me in an SAU uniform.”
The truth of his words slammed into Nicole with unexpected force. Shit. Her animal wanted a simple, clean death. It’s what she’d been dreaming about for seven years. But she couldn’t shake the nagging voice in the back of her mind.
Was Tucker right? Was it possible to actually use this pathetic excuse of a human to bring down the SAU?
“Would you swear to that?” she abruptly demanded, the words barely making it past her stiff lips.
Ian studied her in wary confusion. “What?”
“Would you stand before the world and reveal your crimes?” she pressed.
“Markham would never allow me to speak.”
It was Tucker who responded. “You’ll be protected from the SAU.”
“Yeah, right.” The man gave a sharp laugh. “And what about the shifters?”
“What about them?” Tucker asked.
Ian deliberately stared at Nicole’s fangs that were visibly bared.
“Would I be protected from them?”
Tucker shrugged. “As long as you…no!”
With head-dizzying speed, Tucker was shoving Nicole to the side. Caught off guard, she stumbled to her knees, stunned by the unexpected sound of a handgun being fired.
Shit, shit, shit.
While she’d thought Ian Viker was cowering in fear against the shelves, he’d clearly been placing himself in the perfect position to get his hands on a hidden weapon.
And Tucker had placed himself between her and the gun to save her.
In horror, Nicole watched as Tucker hit the floor with a loud thud. His eyes were closed, and his face was dangerously pale. But it was the blood that gushed from the bullet hole in the center of his chest that made her heart squeeze with terror.
One bullet shouldn’t be able to take down a bear shifter. But Tucker had obviously been shot at point-blank range.
Who the hell knew how much internal damage had been done?
“Tucker.” Still on her knees, she reached out to touch his outstretched arm, relief shuddering through her at the feel of his steady pulse.
He was alive. But for how long?
“No.” She heard Ian snap. “Don’t move.”
Fury exploded through her. She’d tried to temper her thirst for revenge and think about the bigger picture. But she was done.
This man needed to die.
Now.
But even as she prepared to shift into her wolf, she felt the pinprick of prongs biting into her back. For a second she assumed that the bastard had shot her. Instead, she felt a massive volt of electricity sizzling through her body.
A Taser that’d been modified to take down a shifter. One of the SAU’s little toys.
Terrifyingly helpless, Nicole crumpled forward, her muscles refusing to obey her command to shift. She gagged at the stench of the filthy carpet and the smell of Tucker’s blood that filled the air.
A shadow fell over her as Ian stood above her head, staring down at her with a smug smile.
“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me,” she rasped, her body twitching in pain.
He gave a slow shake of his head, a hectic glitter of excitement glowing in his pale eyes.
“Ironically, you’re worth much more to me alive than dead.”
A ball of dread lodged in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t fear death. Or even pain. That was nothing compared to the grief she’d endured.
But she couldn’t bear the thought of being used by the SAU to further their evil agenda against the shifters.
She struggled to form the words. “What are you going to do with me?”
An ugly expression settled on his narrow face. “I was condemned to suburb purgatory because Markham said I’d created a PR nightmare.” He allowed his gaze to roam over her. “Perhaps if I bring him a PR showpiece, I’ll be reinstated.”
PR showpiece? She tried to think through the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. It still didn’t make any sense.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leaned over her, smart enough to stay just out of reach. Not that she could actually do any damage. She felt as weak as a kitten.
“Then let me spell it out. When I tell people what happened, it’s going to go something like this…” His tone was condescending. As if he were convinced that he now had the upper hand. “I was quietly watching TV with my old friend.” He nodded toward the unconscious Tucker. “When a crazed shifter broke into my house and killed my pal.”
A flare of relief raced through her at the knowledge Ian assumed that Tucker was dead. At the same time, she tried to clear her mind enough to find a way to keep Ian distracted. She could already feel her muscles easing. In a few minutes, she’d be able to call on her wolf.
Then the man was dead.
“Why would a shifter shoot a human?” she challenged.
He waved aside her logic. “By the time Markham is done setting the scene, I can assure you the whole world will believe the body was mauled.”
A low growl rumbled in her throat. After she killed Ian, she was going to hunt down Markham. Tucker was right. They had to cut off the head of the snake.
“You consider that good PR?” she taunted.
Ian shrugged. “The SAU can prove exactly why the shifters should be kept locked away. And why the agency should be better funded.” A slow smile curved his lips. “Hell. I’ll be a hero.”
Nicole gave a pained shake of her head. “You really are crazy.”
Obviously the word ‘crazy’ hit a nerve. Probably because he’d heard it a thousand times before.
Whatever the cause, the thin lips pressed together, and before Nicole could try to protect herself, he lifted his foot and slammed it into the side of her head.
Starbursts of pain exploded behind her eyes, the colors dazzling her before everything went black.
Chapter 8
Sinclair was exhausted. Returning to his Pack after secretly following Mira to make sure she’d made it safely back to her house, he’d discovered that he had a dozen text messages from Rios. He’d immediately gone to speak with his computer expert before heading to the SAU headquarters to find out why they would be purging their computers.
It hadn’t taken long to realize that they were all freaked out by the fear of the missing Dr. Talbot giving away secrets. Even after the question was answered, however, Sinclair lingered.
The stranger who’d arrived and demanded entrance to the facility had intrigued him. No one seemed to know whom he was, or why the Director had so readily agreed to meet with him. Then, just as surprisingly, Markham had left out the back door at the same time as the visitor.
It could be nothing. Hell, for all Sinclair knew, the man was a relation of Markham’s. Or a lover. But the secretive departure was enough out of the norm to stir Sinclair’s interest. If something had spooked the Director, then Sinclair wanted to know what it was.
Waiting until the upper floor was clear, he pressed open Markham’s door and stepped into the man’s office.
A swift glance proved it would be easy to search. There were no piles of paper or locked file cabinets. In fact, there was nothing beyond the heavy desk and the shelves on the wall—nowhere to hide anything.
Crossing to the desk, Sinclair came to an abrupt halt at the faint smell that clung to the air.
That didn’t belong to Markham. Or the male stranger.
It was distinctly female. And oddly familiar.
Distracted by the elusive scent, Sinclair was caught off guard by the sudden sound of a male voice behind him.
“What are you doing in here?”
Smoothing his expression to an unreadable mask, he slowly turned to discover Grant regarding him with open suspicion. Of cou
rse, the head of security was always suspicious.
Thankfully, he wasn’t very bright.
“I had a meeting scheduled with the Director,” Sinclair said, lifting his arm to glance at his watch. “I was waiting for him to show up.”
Grant scowled but readily accepted the excuse. “He’s out of town.”
Hmm. The only time that Markham was willing to leave his petty dictatorship in Boulder was when he was forced to travel to D.C.
“Really? That was sudden.” Sinclair carefully studied Grant, monitoring every emotion that flickered over his square face. “An emergency?”
Grant was instantly bristling at the question. Which told Sinclair that the head of security didn’t know where Markham had gone, or why. Which was obviously pissing the former soldier off.
“The Director doesn’t have to share his schedule with his employees,” he snapped.
Sinclair gave a nonchalant lift of his hands, resisting the urge to make up a reason to linger in the office. Grant might not be brilliant, but he wasn’t completely stupid. And there was no reason to draw attention to himself. Right now they believed he was just another guard.
To stay effective, he had to keep his cover.
“Hey, that’s fine with me,” he said, strolling toward the door. “I’ll go back home and wait for my shift.”
Waiting until they were both in the hallway, Grant firmly pulled the door shut behind them with a warning glare in Sinclair’s direction.
“Don’t come in this office unless Markham is here. Got it?”
Sinclair shrugged. “Got it.”
At the point of strolling away, both men froze when the unmistakable sound of shouting was heard, followed by someone beeping a car horn over and over.
“Now what?” Grant bit out. “Come with me,” he ordered Sinclair, jogging down the hallway to the steel door at the end.
He had to pause to use his keycard to trip the lock, and then they were hurrying down the emergency stairs and out the back exit.
The sound of beeping continued as they hurried toward the gate. Five minutes later, they were confronted with the sight of a uniformed guard with his weapon pointed at a man on the other side of the fence. The stranger was standing next to his car with his arm shoved through the open window so he could continue to lean on the horn.
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