by Josie Hunter
“Now that’s a mother from hell,” Stephanie said with a laugh.
“Don’t they know it!” George said.
“Dylan, I need a camera over here!” Stephanie called out. Dylan turned to talk to one of the techs.
Stephanie turned to Dorothy and winked. “If you want to, I’ll let you take some photos.”
Dorothy beamed from ear to ear. When Stephanie turned to take the camera from the tech, she saw Dylan watching her with a steady gaze.
Chapter 8
By noon, the techs had completed their work and had hopped in the van to take the evidence to the lab at Cattail Ranch where they would do some preliminary tests. Charles Horton had taken custody of Scott Bennington’s body, and Dylan had proved invaluable by taking charge of the evidence gathering. One day on the job and already she owed him. Stephanie spent the next hour fielding questions from a local reporter as well as trying desperately to avoid a news crew that had arrived from San Antonio. Concerned citizens had flocked to the park along with some nosey ones, and trying to stay out of the limelight to keep her cover became nearly impossible. She finally fled the scene, leaving everything with the local cops. Chief Hennessey had no problem preening for the news camera.
Hot, tired, and out-of-sorts, Stephanie trudged back to the office with a broken heel and sweat pouring from every gland in her body. She pushed open the door to find Talon and Rusty eating Chinese food directly from the paper cartons.
She dropped her shoes into the trashcan and sank into her chair.
“Bad morning?” Talon asked.
She gave him her drop-dead look.
“You look like shit,” Rusty said right before he shoveled more snow peas into his mouth.
“Thanks so much.” She surveyed the devastation spread across his desk—leaking packs of soy sauce, a trail of rice leading from the empty cartons to his lap, and droplets of ice tea holding tiny pieces of vegetable matter. “Who taught you to eat? Some sort of hyena?”
“Har har,” Rusty said. He popped the last bite of egg roll into his mouth.
Despite the mess, Stephanie watched him with envy. She loved egg rolls. Only the lack of moisture in her body kept her from drooling.
“Never fear, rabbit mine,” Rusty said. “Yours is outside on the deck.”
Her gaze shot to the hallway. “Why would you put my food outside in this heat?”
Rusty began to shove trash into the takeout bag. “You have a visitor.”
“A visitor would visit and go away,” Talon said, scraping his chopsticks in a carton of gooey beef that looked delicious. “I think this one’s here to stay. We didn’t know what to do with him, so we gave him some food and sent him outside.”
She noticed Dylan’s coat and tie hanging from the back of a chair.
“Way to make him feel welcome, guys,” Stephanie muttered.
“Hey,” Rusty said, “he doesn’t like us any more than we like him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Yeah, but you do,” Talon said. “And since you haven’t explained why you liked him in the first place, we’re reserving judgment.”
“I never said I liked him,” Stephanie said.
“Jeez, Steph, you don’t have to. We know there’s a history there, and that history isn’t based on just friendship.”
Her heart fell into her bare feet. She let her gaze drift between them. “Have you been discussing me? With Dylan?”
“Like I said, we got his Cliff Notes version,” Rusty said. “You’d have heard it, too, if you hadn’t high-tailed it out of her like a scared little rabbit yesterday. You two have some serious talking to do.” He lifted his chin, gesturing toward the hallway. “Go hash out the issues so we can get on with life.”
“The dude’s weird,” Talon said.
“The dude’s been to hell and come out of the other side,” Stephanie snapped. “Give him a break please.”
“Will do,” Talon said, “as soon as you fill us in on why this guy freaks you out. We want your story, not his.”
Both men were staring at her, expecting an answer. She was forever grateful to Rusty that he didn’t spill her story, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting forever to handle the issue. If her silence continued to cause problems, Rusty would probably intervene in some way. That’s how Rusty was.
“I knew him in college. We…we dated. And then we didn’t.” She shrugged.
Talon shook his head. “Not good enough, Steph. There’s a lot more you’re not telling us. A lot more.”
Uncharacteristically, Rusty said, “Give her some space, Hatfield.” He stood, eyeing the trajectory of the bag in his hand, and did a jump shot, his tall, lanky body seeming to suspend in mid air for a moment. His bag dropped into the trashcan with a plunk. He pumped his giant fist then turned to her and gave her a somewhat sympathetic look, at least as sympathetic as Rusty could ever get.
“We’re here for you, Steph. You know that, and we’re willing to wait for full disclosure until you get your head on straight or deal with your feelings or whatever else the fucker has unearthed in you.” The sympathetic look vanished to be replaced by a stern look. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with what we do here. Got that, rabbit mine?”
Yep. He’d do what he had to do.
“Fair enough.” Stephanie pushed her glasses up her sweaty nose and forced herself out of the chair. “I’ll make us all one big happy family yet.” She gave them a smile that she hoped was bright and cheery but felt more like a grimace.
Talon chuckled. “Good luck with that.”
One big happy family. She had no idea if she was talking about professional or personal.
* * * *
Dylan had been sitting on the deck for twenty minutes, listening to the gurgle of the fountain and staring at the food bags. He didn’t feel like eating, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like being there. He stretched out his leg, massaging his kneecap. When the sliding glass door opened, he schooled his features into some semblance of normalcy and turned toward the sound.
She slid through the door and stepped onto the deck in bare feet.
“Hey.” He straightened up in the chair.
“I guess we need to talk.” Stephanie sat gingerly on the edge of the empty little chair. She folded her hands in her lap.
Dylan nodded to the food bags and the two to-go cups. “Wanna eat first? You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”
“Sure.”
Stephanie stuffed a straw into her cup and slurped half of the ice tea. She sighed then grabbed an egg roll. His appetite had pretty much disintegrated in the last year, but Stephanie hadn’t changed a bit. She inhaled the egg roll then dove into the carton of pepper steak. He’d never seen a woman who could eat as much as Stephanie. He waited until she slowed down then swiped a napkin across her mouth.
“I heard the short version of what goes on here,” Dylan said. “Can you tell me anything else?”
She settled back in her chair, stirring the beef with her chopsticks, studying it while she talked.
“I’m sure you know we’re a recently opened satellite office of Homeland Security.”
He nodded.
“With the events that took place last spring here in Catamount—most of them directly involved with the Lucas pride—the alpha felt it best to return to his Homeland position to keep abreast of shifter issues in general. Since Catamount is the largest shifter colony in the U.S., it made sense to open the office here so he could be both involved in any investigations intimately and also be close to where the action seems to be taking place. Gabe told you about the contract on Senator Montgomery?”
She lifted her eyes to his, and he nodded. At least she was talking with him. He didn’t want to spook her again so he kept quiet. She returned to contemplating her lunch.
“We’ve managed to thwart it…for now. The alpha felt—and the paranormal division of Homeland concurred—that just because the contractor had been eradicated, the senator would stil
l be on someone’s short list of possible targets. We don’t feel Viper acted alone. We think he was merely a cog in a wheel of a much larger conspiracy.”
“Sounds probable.”
She glanced up again, studied him for a moment, and then popped a bite of food into her mouth. “The trail of this conspiracy leads back to incidents that occurred years ago.” She tilted her head. “Has Gabe told you anything about Project Shimmer?”
Dylan dug into his carton of almond chicken, trying to buy himself some time. He knew all about Project Shimmer. In fact, his interest is what had led him into the CIA in the first place. The thing was, though, Stephanie headed this task force, and he had no idea what she knew Project Shimmer.
“He’s mentioned it,” Dylan said, trying for a middle ground. He hoped she would, as his boss, fill him in on what she knew since he’d been cleared to be on the task force.
She swirled the food with her chopsticks again. He’d never had to pull information out of Stephanie before. If anything, he’d always had trouble getting a word in edgewise. He waited while she gathered her thoughts—or her emotions.
“Well, most people have heard of it, of course. It’s much like Project Blue Book in the amount of speculation and study it gets. So you probably know it’s been determined to be a shadowy, nefarious government commission that studies the existence and impact of paranormals in the U.S.” She gave a short laugh. “Most people think it’s complete bullshit.”
“But it’s not,” he said.
She lifted her face again, her eyes wide as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. “So you know that for a fact?” She gave him a bit of a smile, a tiny glimpse of the old Stephanie.
“Yes, I know it for a fact.”
“Well then, I suppose you also know that the commission does, in fact, categorize, research, and study paranormals, shifters in particular.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“It’s quite a quandary actually,” Stephanie said. “There’s not really much we can do about this study unless we come right out and tell the generation population we exist. Even then, we’re not really sure what the outcome of that could be. There might be wholesale slaughter—on both sides. The most we’ve been able to do is get some people in on the team to reduce the amount of collateral damage. Most of the experimentation these days is done strictly with volunteers, or at least that’s what we’re told. I guess we can only hope it’s true.”
“Isn’t there some sort of oversight from the shifter community?”
“Of course,” she said. “The paranormal council oversees their studies, but some of us aren’t sure that’s enough.”
“Why would you doubt the paranormal council? I’ve heard it’s been created to work in our best interests.”
“You’d think,” Stephanie said with disgust, “but when several of the members of Project Shimmer began to advocate exposure—mostly to stop any unlawful experimentation I might add—the murders began.”
He knew about the murders, but he let her talk. Anything to keep her talking.
“Over a dozen people, civilians, from all walks of life. No known connection between them other than being members of Project Shimmer. No evidence of subversion, no threat of any kind, except they were all working within their small purviews to sway opinions and generate support. Most of it never saw the light of day. The paranormal divisions of Homeland, Justice, CIA, FBI, you name it began to think a rogue faction existed. One determined to keep shifters as secret as they’ve been for thousands of years.”
“Don’t we want our secrets kept?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes! But not to the point of murder.” She frowned. “Look, I’m assuming since Gabe brought you on board, he thought you were right for this assignment.” She shook her head. “Maybe I need to—”
“Relax, Steph. I’m not advocating exposure or murder. I’m on your side here.”
She blinked and seemed about to say something but shook her head again.
“I’m the right man for the job. Believe me.” He slid his hand across the table and placed it over hers. She snatched her hand away from his hand faster than she would have yanked it from a flame. She fiddled with her hair, tucking it behind her ears. So beautiful. A bit skittish at times. Just as he’d remembered her.
Make peace. Take it slow.
“What’s our mission here exactly? We’re obviously a task force, dealing with aspects of Project Shimmer and some carry over from some seriously bad things, but what’s our goal? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I’m gathering evidence, witnesses, anything I can get my hands on to prove that Esteban Santos is the one pulling the strings on all this.”
He whistled. “And Tyler Lucas condones this?”
“Yes.”
“Getting evidence on Santos is a tall order. He’s a powerful man, both in industry and the paranormal community.”
“It is, which is why I need the best people on this task force.”
“What do the other teammates bring to the group?”
“Rusty is my right-hand man. Has been for several years now. He has mad skills in all sorts of fighting techniques, is a weapons expert, and can get into anywhere, anytime. Nothing can keep him out.”
“And Talon?” The eagle-shifter didn’t seem the kind who’d gravitate to subterfuge and undercover endeavors. Most predatory bird-shifters liked to cut to the chase.
“Barry is…in protective custody at the present time, working with me until I can get him to open up with some seriously damaging information about Santos.”
“Ah, babysitting duty.”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Stephanie snapped. “You don’t know him. He’s been a great asset to the team.”
Well damn. “You’ve become friends with the big lug.”
She ignored him and stuffed some more food in her mouth. Then she began to mutter around the gooey beef. He had to lean forward to hear the end of it. “If I’m babysitting anyone, I’m babysitting you.”
“Me?” He rubbed his chin then laughed. “I guess that’s a possibility.”
She wiped her mouth then tossed her napkin down and leaned back, her hands dangling over the arms of the chair, her bare foot bobbing up and down. “Gabe seems to think you’ll be an asset, though why I have no idea. At least I know what Barry brings to the party.” She gave a dainty sniff.
He hid a smile at her loyalty. He had to agree the big lug seemed to be completely on her side, so he was glad he hadn’t been wrong about that. He leaned toward her, totally serious when he said, “I am an asset. I’d like nothing more than to get that son of a bitch Santos, and anyone associated with him.”
“Good then.” She grabbed another egg roll.
“So tell me how you got involved.” He smiled. “You and Claire planned to go into Special Forces. It’s all you talked about. I expected you to be a major by now. But here you are in Catamount, Texas, part of Homeland.”
“I–I…” She took refuge in that carton of Chinese food again. “Claire did, but…I changed my mind. I decided I preferred more domestic pursuits.”
“I’ve run into Claire at Cattail a few times.”
She froze, the chopstick halfway to her mouth. A piece of beef dropped on her pretty yellow dress. “You have?”
“Yeah, though she wasn’t overly happy to see me,” he said with a shrug. “I guess I can understand that.” He lifted some chicken on his chopstick. “She seems to have changed her plans a bit, too. A Tomcat now. That’s quite a coup I hear, getting to be part of the security team.”
“I heard they offered you a position there.”
“It’s not my thing. I want back in the field.” He glanced around at the homey little garden. “Not exactly the field, I guess, but as close as I can get for now.”
He nearly choked on his food when she spoke.
“Brandon…Dylan, why did you leave me?”
He shook his head and took a moment before he answered. “I didn’t want to, S
teph,” he said quietly. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice,” she said sadly.
“Not me. Not then.” Her eyes misted, but he needed to head that off at the pass. “Steph, I wasn’t just in criminal psychology when we met. I was in training for the CIA.” He barreled through before she had a chance to ask him anything else. “When I finished, I was immediately assigned to South America. I was charged with going deep undercover to investigate possible connections between Esteban Santos and Diego Garcia.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Which is why Gabe thought I’d bring a little something to…the party.”
“Oh, wow,” she said softly.
“The first few years were okay, but things went south after that. I think I got a little too close to the truth in South America.”
He told her very sketchy details of his time in captivity, at least what he remembered. He still had quite a few gaps in his mind. He told her of the Santiago brothers and his extraction and flight to Texas. All the while she sat quietly, her lips pressed together, her beautiful brown eyes and expressive face ablaze with both interest and compassion.
When he finished, she began to talk, words tumbling out of her mouth as she told him everything she knew about Viper, Senator Montgomery, Esteban Santos, Rosa Santos Jackson, and Diego Garcia.
As they discussed the details of the murder in the park, he wished he hadn’t eaten. The timing of the murder to his arrival was just too close.
* * * *
In the restroom, she wiped the smear of beef off her dress as best she could. Just another reason she planned to get back into her black. She’d ruined both a pair of shoes and an expensive dress in the same morning. She peered at herself in the mirror, and red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. Listening to Dylan tell her of his ordeal had just about done her in for the day. She wanted nothing more than a shower and a cuddle under a comfy quilt with Laura. They could read a few stories on the iPad and just chat about things like giving trees and moons.
A cuddle seemed a world away right now.