by Josie Hunter
“You’re holding it too tight.”
“No, I’m—”
Crack, crack.
Two swarms of angry wasps swept up her arm, biting and stinging and leaving pinpricks of pain in their wake, and Stephanie lurched backward. She’d barely seen him move.
“Damn it, Rusty.” She released her death grip on the staff and shook out her hand again. “That fucking hurt.”
“Quit being such a pussy.” His eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward her. “I told you your grip was too tight.”
“How would you know that? You never even looked at my hands.” She tossed her hair back and shook her shoulders, adjusting her stance.
“That’s the reason I’ll always be better than you, little bunny.”
“Don’t call me—”
He lunged forward, and before Stephanie could move or even think to move, a blur streaked through her vision and another crack echoed in the room. The stinging vibration swarmed up her arm all the way to her neck.
“Fuck!”
She leapt backward, spun, and lunged forward. She arced the staff and brought it down hard and fast. Rusty flipped his staff as though swatting a fly and blocked her move. She jogged back and attacked again, this time bringing her staff up. A tiny smile flickered on his mouth, and in the next moment, she landed hard, flat on the floor on her back. A sharp pain roared through the back of her head. She gritted her teeth and tried to sit up but flopped back to the mat when her vision darkened.
“I thought these mats were supposed to keep us from getting hurt.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” Rusty folded in half and sat down beside her. He leaned back, propped on his elbows. His long body stretched halfway across the mat. “Without the mat, you’d be unconscious, maybe even in a coma.”
She twisted her face toward him. “Why can’t I do what you do?”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Wrong genes. You just don’t have the innate awesomeness of the Terwilliger family.”
She smiled as she stared at the ceiling. “Yeah, there’s that.” She blinked several times to dislodge the spots trying to settle in her vision then rolled over and propped her head on her hand. “Seriously, though, how do you do that?”
“Ah, little bunny, the master doesn’t give away his secrets.”
She narrowed her eyes. “He does when the boss demands he give those secrets.”
He gave her another sidelong glance, and the hint of a smile played on his mouth. “Go ahead and try.”
Stephanie pounced, straddling his long body, and Rusty fell back to the mat with a laugh.
“So you’re going to try to keep me here until I cave? Last time I looked you were half my size.”
She curved her fingers into claws. “I have a secret weapon.” She wiggled her fingers.
“Oh, no,” Rusty said with a laugh, “not the dreaded tickle fingers.”
“Yes, the dreaded tickle. You know I’ll do it.”
Rusty grabbed her wrists and pushed her backward. “Anything but that. I give up. I’ll spill everything I know if you just back off.”
“Deal.”
He released her wrists, and she leaned forward, jabbing her elbows into his skinny chest. They stared at one another for a moment, and in a flash, Stephanie found herself pinned to the mat, Rusty’s long scarecrow body flat against hers, crushing the life out of her. She gasped for a breath as he laughed.
“You’re far too trusting, Steph. That’s your biggest problem.”
“And you’re a dick.”
“I am,” he said with a nod, “which is why I’m always amazed you trust me.”
“Well, you are supposed to be my friend.”
“Not in here,” Rusty said. “In here I’m your worst nightmare. I’m your foe. I’m the one who wants to kill you. The only question is who wants to kill more, you or me.” He gave her a hard stare. “Anticipate the worse. Never let your guard down. Know what your opponent thinks before they think it. Always assume they’re going to get the best of you and don’t let that happen, little bunny.” He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose.
The sound of a throat clearing made Stephanie freeze. She turned her head toward the doorway as Rusty rolled to the mat. Dylan leaned against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, and Jake had already wandered into the room, his gaze taking in all the weapons.
“Great collection,” he said.
Stephanie felt her whole body heat up like a blast furnace. Caught behaving like a child.
Way to go, Steph.
She sat up quickly and brushed some hair away from her face.
“Hey, Dylan, Jake.”
Jake’s gaze flicked between her and Rusty. “Are we interrupting anything?”
“Nope, not a thing,” Rusty said. His body unfolded from the mat like an ugly fan. He held out a hand, and Stephanie took it. She stumbled across the mat, practically flying across the room when he hauled her up with a quick jerk of his arm. “Trying to teach Steph the art of the staff.”
“How’d she do?” Dylan asked.
“Oh, she’s coming along quite nicely.” Rusty gave her an amused glance. “For a bunny.”
“Hello, Pot,” Stephanie muttered. “This is Kettle.”
Rusty gestured to himself. “Do I look like a bunny to you?”
“No, you look like a dick,” Stephanie said sweetly.
“Now you’re getting it, little bunny.”
He leaned down and gathered the two staffs. “Gotta run. I promised Renee I’d introduce her to Rosa. Little Sis has it in her head to do some dancing.” His brow furrowed. “This I gotta see. She has the grace of an orc.”
“Geek,” Stephanie said.
“Dork,” Rusty said.
As Rusty placed the staffs back in their assigned places, Dylan stepped into the room. “What’s an orc?”
Jake’s eyes widened, and Rusty gave Stephanie an incredulous look right before he burst out laughing. “He’s never read Tolkien?” Stephanie shook her head sadly. “And this is the man you want to date?”
“Did date,” Steph said.
“Is dating,” Dylan added.
Jake peered between the two of them. “Apparently I missed something.”
Rusty’s brows rose. “Hmm, this could be as interesting as watching Stilts try to dance. Now I’m torn. What’s on the agenda for today? Some sort of alpha challenge? Can I referee?”
“Tyler Lucas might frown on an alpha challenge.” Stephanie turned to Dylan, and her gaze ticked between him and Jake. “Was there an agenda? Did we have plans today?”
Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just came by to finish up inputting the interviews.” He hooked a thumb in Dylan’s direction. “Found him unlocking the door when I got here.” Jake didn’t look happy. In fact, for such a pleasant man, he looked downright murderous. Her bunny felt Jake’s wolf bristling very near the surface.
“Interviews, my ass,” Dylan said. “You knew she’d be here this morning.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I did,” Dylan said with nod. “It’s why I’m here.”
She couldn’t worry about a pissing content. She should have known any attempt at having sex would end in disaster. Of course, if she’d just stuck with one man…Lesson learned on that score.
“So, what are you doing here, Dylan?”
Dylan stared at her for a long moment. “Thought we might finish where we left off last night.”
Jake growled, a low, almost inaudible sound. It wound its way around her with a mesmerizing heat, and her body began to hum with anticipation. The meaning of the sound was clear. He’d already staked a claim. As if. She chose who she spent time with, and a little growl from a jealous wolf wasn’t going to impact her decision on who she’d fuck. Her body, her call, even if something inside her really did want both of them. How to choose, how to choose…Why choose at all?
Slut.
She told her conscience to shut the hell up.
&nbs
p; “So what do you say?” Dylan said. “Ready for round two?”
“Oh, now that is just not right,” Rusty said, clamping his hands over his elephant ears. “I’m going to have to go home and pour acid in my ears. I hate thinking of her that way. Yuck.”
Jake gave Dylan a challenging stare. “Round 2 will happen over my dead body.”
Dylan twisted toward his adversary and let his gaze travel down the length of Jake’s body. “You’re a big son of a bitch, but I’ve been through hell, and coming out the other side has a way of making you think you’re invincible.” He took a step forward. “I’m game if you are.”
She tried very hard to tamp down her body’s reaction. Two men vying for her was a major turn-on. A path of heat blazed a trail from her cleavage to her throat. When she felt it in her cheeks, she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what would come next. Rusty wouldn’t be able to stay out of it.
“Now it’s getting interesting.” He grabbed a towel and ran it over his face. Stephanie hadn’t seen a drop of sweat on him. He tossed the towel on the bench and gestured to the door. “Can you wait till I get some popcorn?”
“Not gonna happen.” She yanked at her karate jacket, trying to cover the stain covering her breasts. “If I have to call the alpha, I—”
“She always threatens that,” Rusty said. “Don’t let her stop you. Come on.” He gestured with a bring-it motion. “Let’s see some action, wolf-boys.”
The Mission Impossible theme filled the room. Stephanie held up her finger. “Do not move. We’re not finished yet.” She patted her pockets then realized her phone was on the other side of the room. Rusty picked it up from the bench and tossed it to her. She hit the button and put it on speaker. “Hey, Marcus, what’s up?”
“I’m at the lab. I got the results of that DNA test on the cigarette butt.”
“And? Was Dorothy right?”
There was a moment of silence, and then Marcus said, “Technically…maybe. I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”
Stephanie pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced between Jake and Dylan. “Maybe isn’t making me happy, Marcus.”
“It’s not making the lab tech happy either. He found the DNA he expected—Scott Bennington’s.” Stephanie waited an excruciating moment. She cocked her hip and began to tap her bare foot as she heard the rustle of papers. She was just about to lose it when Marcus continued. “And he found something else, but we don’t quite know what to make of it.”
“Jesus, Marcus, come on. Just read what it says.”
“An enzyme.”
“An enzyme,” Stephanie repeated.
“Yeah, it’s usually a protein molecule. It originates in living cells and—”
“I know what an enzyme is,” she snapped.
Jake and Dylan exchanged a glance. Rusty took a step forward. “Let him finish. For the dumb ones in the room. Go on, Marcus.”
“The simplest explanation is that it allows for changes, biochemical changes. Think of something like digestion. An enzyme acts as the catalyst in how we digest our food, changing it to different forms to allow our body to absorb it, process it, and use it.”
“Okay,” Dylan said, “so I guess that’s not so unusual, right? It sounds like you’d find enzymes in all forms of natural substances.”
“Yes,” Marcus said, “and certain medications use enzyme inhibitors to treat certain diseases to control metabolic reactions.”
“I wasn’t aware Scott Bennington was taking medication,” Jake said.
“He wasn’t. We checked his records, and we also did complete blood work. There is nothing in his body that would contribute to this.”
“But there has to be,” Stephanie said, “for it to be present on the cigarette butt.”
“You’d think.”
“Marcus, I’m not in the mood for cryptic today,” Stephanie said.
“Is she ever?” Rusty rolled his eyes and ran his hands through his spiky hair. “For the impatient ones in the room,” he said, giving Stephanie a pointed stare, “what are you telling us?”
“The enzyme is present. It’s not something originally found in Scott Bennington’s body, ergo it came from someone else. But it left no trace of DNA.”
Dylan shook his head. “I’m not a scientist, but that’s not possible, is it?”
Marcus’ sigh came through the speaker. “Not only is it not possible, the techs here have never seen one acting like this one.” Stephanie’s hand tightened on the phone as she waited another excruciating moment. “It’s actual devouring Scott Bennington’s DNA as we speak.”
“Send me the file.”
“Already done.”
Stephanie ended the call and made a shooing gesture toward the door. “Playtime’s over. Go. You both have some reading to do.”
“Suckas. This lucky guy’s maintenance. The dance studio it is. This should be a riot.” Rusty flipped his towel over his shoulder and flipped up two fingers. “Peace out.”
He vanished in the blink of an eye.
As she watched the other two men file out, she breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t planned on doing actual work that afternoon but was grateful she didn’t have to referee a fight between two wolves. Even if the very idea of it made her wet.
“Calm the fuck down,” she murmured. “It’s not about you, egomaniac. They’re just vying for dominance.”
“Say something, Steph?” Jake called.
She grabbed her glasses from the bench and pushed them up her nose. “No, just thinking out loud.” She leaned into the hall, staring at Jake’s ass as he entered the office. “Man, I need a margarita.”
* * * *
“You got me here under false pretenses,” Talon said, glancing around the quiet pub. At 4:00 on a Saturday afternoon, the lunch rush was over at Hanrahan’s, and the evening revelers hadn’t hit the streets yet. Only two other booths had occupants. He let his gaze slide toward the door. “I thought you said Renee would be here.”
“She will be,” Stephanie said, pushing her glasses up. “Later.”
“How much later?”
Stephanie held up her phone. “Quid pro quo, Barry.”
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“I do,” she said sweetly.
He gave her a death stare and had started to rise when the server arrived, a short little duckling with a shock of blonde hair and cheerful brown eyes. Talon fell back onto the banquette as she gave him a smile and slid her tray onto the table. She passed him his wine, gave Stephanie a margarita, and handed Dylan and Jake each a bottle of beer that smelled like ass. She then moved away, not quite waddling, but with a very duck-like sway. Talon wanted to go with her, but with the larger wolf-boy taking up the other half of his bench seat, hemming him in, he was stuck short of shifting. Man, did that sound like a plan.
Stephanie swirled her finger around the edge of her glass, scooping up salt crystals, and then licked her finger. She gave him what he thought of as her patented I’m-so-cute-give-me-what-I-want pout. “Come on, Barry, you have to talk to me. People are dying.”
“They’ve been dying.” Talon rubbed his eyes. “For a lot longer than you know.”
“Then talk to me. We can stop it.”
“Ha!” Talon threw his head back. “What parallel universe do you live in, Agent Cooper? Jesus, this is a waste of time.” He planted his hands on the table and started to rise again. Stephanie put her small hand over his oven-mitt, and he sat back down. Why did she have such control over him? What had he ever done to deserve this woman in his life? Well, maybe he did deserve her. He’d done some pretty rotten things in his time on earth.
“I’m just asking you to do the right thing,” Stephanie insisted.
“The right thing…” Talon leaned back in the booth, took a huge swig of wine, and felt his stomach sour on contact. He spun his wine glass between his fingers. The glass was cool on his skin, the smell of the wine tempting him to take another sip, but his stomach continued to protest. She was
even ruining his love of wine.
“Yes,” Stephanie said softly. “If you just talk to me…”
Talon shot her a dirty look then turned his attention to Dylan sitting next to her. “Everyone always tell you to do the right thing, but have you ever noticed what happens to those noble fools? I’m sure you have plenty of stories to tell, but at least you made it out alive. Lucky bastard.”
“Some days I feel lucky,” he murmured. “Some days I’m not so sure.” Dylan took a long draw of his beer.
“Yeah, I get that,” Talon said, letting his gaze linger for a moment on the man pushing himself back into Stephanie’s life. “Most of those noble fools just turn up dead. I’m not too eager to join the illustrious group of the extremely noble, but extremely dead, people. No laurels for Barry Hatfield. I’ll just live my ignoble, but safe, life.” He focused on Stephanie again, willing her to see things his way. What a fucking fool’s errand. But he had to try. “You’ve got Rosa for Christ’s sake. What the hell do you need me for?”
Jake clasped his hands around his bottle but swung his face toward Talon. “Rosa’s testimony isn’t enough. She was drugged during her captivity, and she never saw Esteban Santos at Coral’s.”
“He was there,” Talon said, “trust me.” His stomach turned again as he remembered all the whiskey he’d been forced to drink with the man. He pushed his wine glass away and ran a hand over his head. Sometimes the feel of the smooth skin up there made things better. Today, not so much. Damn the woman.
“Trust isn’t enough.” Stephanie took a sip of her margarita. “We can’t prosecute a pillar of industry on trust.”
“I gave you a name,” Talon said. “Did you talk to Roger Harley?”
Stephanie nodded. “We did. Rusty and I visited him at the facility a few weeks ago. He was willing to exchange a wealth of information for a stronger heat lamp and a patch of sand. I would have actually granted him outdoor privileges. In a concrete, meshed environment of course. He’s a cagey little scorpion. I’ll save that upgrade for our next favor. He’s kinda squirrelly, isn’t he?”
“Glad you’re friends now,” Talon snarled. “And?”
“Unfortunately everything he gave us pertained to Juan Santos…and you.”