by Josie Hunter
She started to turn, but her mother pulled her back and cupped her face. “We’re a very forgiving people, and so is Claire.”
“Then it’s very deep down.”
“She loves you, Steph. You know she can’t keep this up forever. She’s not as tough as you are.”
“Oh, she’s plenty tough.”
“Maybe you need to reach out, talk—”
“No.” Stephanie clenched her jaw. “If it were just me, if I only had to worry about my feelings, you know I’d—”
The sound of skittering claws echoed down the hallway, slipping and sliding on the tile floor. A small ball of brown fluff barreled into the kitchen, nearly colliding with the island. With a small bark, the little wolf pup sat up and pawed at Stephanie’s leg. As Stephanie leaned down, a shimmering glow enveloped the pup, and within moments, a tiny girl stood on tiptoe, reaching up to Stephanie.
“Mama!”
Stephanie scooped her two-year-old daughter up in her arms. She ran her hand over her daughter’s silky brown curls. “How’s my beautiful little girl tonight?”
“Good, Mama!”
“I brought some pumpkins home. We can make jack-o’-lanterns after dinner.”
Laura lifted her hands and made wiggly claw gestures. “Scary ones?” she asked with a shiver and a smile.
“As scary as you want.”
“What have you been doing upstairs, Laura?” Stephanie’s mother asked, her voice holding a touch of reprimand.
Laura pursed her mouth, and her dark-green gaze skittered over her grandmother then slid back to Stephanie. “Just playin’, Gramma.”
“Uh-huh.” Stephanie’s mother reached up and plucked a feather from the corner of Laura’s mouth. “Eating pillows again?”
Laura giggled as Stephanie swooped her around in a circle. “Such a scary little wolf. Always eating pillows. How about some lasagna instead, little pup?”
“’Zanya! Yay!”
Stephanie put Laura on the floor, and her daughter ran across the room to climb into her booster seat. Stephanie let her gaze linger for a moment then turned back to her mother.
“Like I said, if it were only me…”
Her mother patted Stephanie’s shoulder. “I understand, honey. I really do.” She gave her a cheery smile. “Now let’s have our ’zanya.”
* * * *
She’d just put Laura to bed and decided nothing could be better than a hot, soapy bath after a day of allowing the old Stephanie to resurface and bringing new meat into the fold. Especially meat like Jake Westin. Her philosophy of life over the last few years had been to avoid all possible romantic or sexual entanglements. After she’d received a rather substantial gift from one such entanglement—her gorgeous little girl—she’d decided that, most especially, she should avoid entanglements with any member of the canine species, particularly wolf. She’d clamped down on Stephanie Cooper 1.0 and invented Stephanie 2.0, though now that upgrade threatened to fail. Thinking about the old Stephanie brought thoughts of Brandon, and thoughts of Brandon always made her nostalgic…and stupid.
Westin was off her list from two perspectives—wolf and employee. That didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize though, and Jake Westin was definitely worth a bit of fantasy time. She thought maybe later she’d curl up in her recently constructed bed under her favorite quilt and just see where those fantasies might lead. Her personal items, including vibrators of all shapes and sizes, were all in a box marked “business” lying in the corner of her closet.
First, though, she needed a bath to calm her bunny and, more importantly, her own traitorous thoughts. When her phone rang, she was in a half daze of warm lethargy and hunky man reverie. She lifted a soapy hand out of the tub and fumbled the cell from the chair. It took a moment to remember her own name.
“Stephanie Cooper.”
“Hi, Stephanie. It’s Gabe Laughton.”
Jesus Christ. Gabe Laughton.
She bolted up, bubble-bath water sloshing over the lip onto the floor in several waves. “Damn it,” she muttered.
She heard Gabe chuckle on the other end of the phone. “That happy to hear from me, huh?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. Just my own clumsiness. I’m in the tub and—”
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“I’m sorry to bother you then. I’ll just take a minute.”
She dropped a towel over the mess and sank back into the warm water. Why she’d let herself get flustered over a call from Gabe Laughton was beyond her imagining. Just because he was part of the alpha’s pride and a very important member of the colony, not to mention a federal marshal, didn’t mean she should act beyond insane from a mere phone call. But it sure as hell meant she shouldn’t be telling him about being naked in the tub.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
She lurched upright again, sending another mini-wave onto the floor. This time she ignored it and focused. Okay, a phone call was no reason for insanity, but a favor? She’d be guaranteed membership in the inner circle by doing a favor.
“Name it, Gabe. Whatever I can do.”
Suck up.
“I have a witness, a somewhat troublesome witness. I’m sure you know the drill, but…”
Wow. She couldn’t believe Gabe thought she’d know the drill. She kept abreast of almost everything in Homeland, particularly anything pertaining to the secretive paranormal division, but she had very limited knowledge of what they did in Witness Protection. Just his confidence in her possible knowledge made her do a little happy dance in the tub as visions of being part of the powerful elite in Catamount flashed through her head, but his next words brought her down to earth with a crash.
“What do you think?”
Damn. She’d been so busy dancing she’d missed the entire favor.
“I lost you for a second, Gabe. Could you repeat that?”
“Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re out by the forest. Lots of cell interference out there. I would have come by the office, but I wanted to run this by you without any outside influence. It’s your call, after all.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’m handling this man—Dylan Winston—and I’m spending far too much of my time and energy. I’ve done everything I can for him, but I can’t seem to get anywhere with him. He should be settled by now, but he’s balking at everything I throw at him. He’s been at Cattail, and we’ve tried every occupation on the ranch, trying to get him interested in getting back into life. Even offered him a spot on the Tomcats. He’s not interested.”
With the topic of Tomcats, her mind slid to Claire, but she pulled away from those thoughts.
“He has issues, of course. His extraction was less than ideal, and he’s been through a lot.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’s determined to go back into the field, and that’s not an option, at least not the field he’s used to. Not by a long shot. He doesn’t seem to understand the concept of witness protection. We thought, though, if we got him back into the fray doing something at least similar, make him feel like he’s making a difference, he might find some purpose and give up the idea of resuming his old life, which, whether he wants to believe it or not, is now defunct.”
“You want to put him on my team.”
“That’s the idea, yes. We know you wanted Westin, but I heard Jake is happy where he is right now.”
“I’ve changed his mind.” She heard the sing-songy glee in her own voice and gritted her teeth. Damn it. I sound like a fucking cheerleader. Be professional. “He’s coming in next week.”
“Good for you, Stephanie. The alpha and I knew you were the person for this assignment.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So what do you think of another team member?”
Another man would give her an actual team, one she could be proud of, an entire cadre of professionals she could parlay into a real assignment in Homeland, maybe even in the Boston office…
“Would that work
for you?”
Fuck. She pounded the phone against her head.
“I’m sorry, Gabe. I lost you again.”
He chuckled. “We’ll have to get you a new plan. I’ll handle that tomorrow. The alpha and I discussed the possibility of Winston joining your crew, and he thought the idea held merit. What do you think?”
Ah, the problem witness. Babysitting duty. Crap.
“I assume he has…skills?”
“A seasoned agent. You couldn’t ask for a better skillset.”
Except he was compromised in the field and had to run. Not such a good thing. Lots of baggage there.
Very quickly she spun through the talents of the team. Talon had brains, strength, intel, even if she’d yet to pry it out of him. She and Rusty worked well together and had just recently finished training, so she knew they both had the most current knowledge and techniques. She wasn’t sure yet how easily Jake Westin would return to his old mindset, but he’d been her best option in town without poaching the Tomcats.
An actual agent, with real field experience, could prove invaluable, but not if he was a loose cannon. She might be able to learn from him, but not if he were a lone wolf who couldn’t play well with others. Everyone on the team had to be willing to compromise and had to complement the rest. There was no chance of separating into smaller groups with a task force this small. If this Winston guy had psychological issues, he could upset the entire dynamic, not to mention make everyone’s life a living hell.
“A seasoned agent would certainly be welcome, but we’re going to be running a small very department, and I’m a little worried about dynamics. Since I commandeered Jake Westin just today, I don’t know yet how he’ll fit in.”
“He’ll do great. We’ve been trying to get him to Cattail for over a year so you’ve accomplished quite a coup.”
“I suppose so,” Stephanie murmured, but she knew the real reason. Shifters—almost all species—were extremely sexual creatures.
The truth is I dressed like a slut. If you only knew I had seven hundred dollars worth of slutty new clothes and accessories in my closet.
Shit, he’s talking.
“Winston has many skills, too many for his own good at times. I believe he will be a valuable asset to your team.”
Will, not would. This is just a courtesy call. It’s already been decided. Don’t piss off one of the alpha’s pride.
“I agree, Gabe. When would you like to bring him to the office?”
“I thought tomorrow morning. I don’t want to give him too much time to think about this. He’s not exactly a prisoner here, but if he leaves Catamount, his safety might be compromised. I don’t work with someone this long only to lose them.”
“Tomorrow is fine, Gabe.”
“Then we’ll see you then, Stephanie, even if I end up hauling him there in a straightjacket.” They shared a laugh, though Stephanie wondered what she was getting herself into. “Thank you. Good night. And I’ll bring new phones for your crew.”
The phone clicked, and Stephanie stared at it for a few long moments.
“Another new guy I know nothing about. Well, one of them is getting his real estate license whether he likes it or not. They can fight for it.”
She tossed the phone onto the chair and sank down into the water until she was fully submerged, listening to the quiet of nothingness, trying not to think about what sorts of problems this man might be dragging behind him.
* * * *
Esteban Santos lay in a chaise at the side of his pool, staring out at the skyline of Miami Beach, trying to relax. Darkness had descended, and the lights of the vibrant city cast a brilliant rainbow of muted color over the water in the distance. He sipped at his tequila and tried to think of anything but those things that plagued his mind. He couldn’t seem to relinquish the idea of the future he’d held in his heart.
The last few months had taken their toll on his attitude. He’d tried, really tried, to bring his daughter back into the fold, hoping she’d be willing to share in the destiny he’d created for his children. He’d left them a legacy few in the country would ever possess—a successful and cutting-edge pharmaceutical company, inroads into any political aspirations they might have, and worldwide connections with business, communications, industry, and government officials. He had lain the world at their feet, a most generous gift, and both of them had done nothing but disappoint him.
He slammed the shot glass on the table, and the woman lounging beside him chuckled.
“Ah, Esteban, you’re thinking of them again, aren’t you?”
“Mind your own business, Medea.”
She shifted on her chaise and turned toward him with a sinuous grace, her short black hair sticking up in sweaty spikes. Her dark eyes blazed in the lights reflecting from the pool, tiny red pinpoints of light swimming in their depths, as though she had a fire in her soul. Her deep, blue-black skin shone even in the night. She smiled, and her teeth—so white, so perfect—glimmered against the darkness of her face. She reached out and ran her long fingers over the skin of his arm. He shivered in the warmth. Only she could make him shiver with longing. But he wasn’t in the mood tonight.
“Not now, Medea.”
“Just as well,” she purred. She snuffed out the cigarette she’d been smoking. “I’ve been a bit antsy tonight. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
He turned his face toward her and gave her a smile. “As if you could, mi querida.”
She sighed and stretched, her naked body lithe and strong, her legs going on forever. “I could…if I wanted to.” She rose from the chaise. “I think we both know that.”
“Do we?” Esteban asked. He grabbed her hand, holding it tight, so tight he felt the crunch of bones under her skin. “Would you actually hurt me, mi amor?”
She stared directly into his eyes, daring him to squeeze harder. He could have done that, but trying to frighten Medea was a wasted effort. The woman had no fear, and she had supreme confidence in her abilities to handle herself—and others.
“I need a swim,” she said in a bored tone. “Release me please.”
He let go of her hand. “Go for your swim, querida. I have thinking to do.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “Don’t use all your energy thinking.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to his ear. “I have other uses for it.” Her perfect teeth clamped down on his earlobe and bit hard.
She laughed and turned, diving gracefully beneath the water with nothing but a small ripple to show her passing.
His thoughts turned back to his ungrateful progeny. Alas, he’d lost Juan, and now his daughter—his lovely Rosa—had shown herself to be nothing but a bitch like her mother. He knew she’d survived the blast Raptor had set in Coral’s, but he’d decided to keep his distance for now. He had enough vials of her mutated blood to create thousands of toxic doses. She could live her happy little life in Catamount for a while with her harem of men. Someday, perhaps sooner than she expected, he’d reconnect with his daughter, and she would be more than sorry for her betrayal then. Maybe he would wait until she gave him a grandchild.
The phone rang as he was pouring another shot of tequila. He finished then tossed it down his throat before he answered.
“Santos.”
“Esteban, mi amigo.”
“Diego, good to hear your voice.” Diego Garcia. The evening just kept getting better and better. “I hope you have scrambled the call.”
“Siempre, mi amigo.” Santos waited for a few minutes while Garcia spoke to someone nearby. He poured another shot and was considering hanging up when Garcia came back on the line. “I have a favor, por favor.”
“What sort of favor?”
Fucking favors. Everyone needed a fucking favor.
“It should be no problem, Esteban. I would do it myself, but since this particular issue currently resides in your country, I thought it would be far easier for you. I shall, one day, repay you of course.”
A hit. Well, it certainly wo
uldn’t bother him to contract a hit, and there was every possibility he might need the return favor one day. They did live on completely different continents, after all.
“The target?” Santos asked.
“An ex-CIA agent. His name is unimportant, as I know it was an alias while here and has probably changed a dozen times since his escape. But he is a man who knows far too much of my operation. I should have killed him when I had him in my custody, but well, you know how it is, Esteban. There is always the chance of redirecting his mind with enough…persuasion.” Garcia laughed, and Santos heaved a sigh. The man was nothing but a butcher, but he was often useful.
“So he managed to escape,” Santos said. “Sounds like your operation is getting a bit sloppy. Maybe you need to hire some more competent employees.”
There was a long moment of silence. He envisioned the man strangling someone with his bare hands just to release the tension. Anaconda-shifters were nothing but muscles wrapped in more muscles. Not a brain in the bunch. He didn’t give a damn if the man was angry. Everyone knew an agent in custody was better dead than alive. Garcia had been messy. Leaving a loose end like this was nothing short of stupid.
“Those employees that failed me are no longer an issue, Esteban, not that it’s any of your fucking business.”
“Of course not, Diego. I apologize. I know you’ve probably handled it in a manner best conducive to your business.”
Fucking thug.
“So you will arrange the contract?”
“Of course, mi amigo. Do you have a last known location?”
“We believe he might be in Texas,” Garcia said. “Most of the high-profile shifters in protective custody are managed by one handler.” Santos could just imagine how that information had been obtained. “This particular man—this Gabriel Laughton—has ties to a very large colony of shifters in Catamount.”
“I know of Mr. Laughton.”
All roads led back to Catamount, Texas. He would have liked to tie up a few loose ends of his own while he handled this little problem for Garcia, but that would be a risky proposition at this juncture. Rosa had survived her ordeal, and though she might know he was behind her kidnapping and captivity, no one had any proof of it. Yet. He did not intend to give them any more reason to investigate him.