by Vivi Andrews
But that was where Rachel’s expectations faltered. It was the woman, not the man who gave off the I’m-the-big-bad-Alpha vibes, who was the spokesperson for the pair. She spoke quickly, animatedly, gesturing with her hands, and sounding more like a sitcom character than a diplomat—all slang and quick comebacks.
When Kye guided Rachel and Adrian into the room, directing them to a pair of chairs set up along the wall behind Roman, away from the main conference table where the others were gathered, the ambassadors were already well into their plea. Patch and Roman faced the couple across the table, flanked by Grace and another of the lieutenants, who Rachel mentally placed as Hugo, the bear shifter. Rachel sat, Adrian beside her, one thigh brushing against hers, and Kye propped his shoulders against the wall on her other side.
It was a much smaller group than had been involved in her initial interrogation and Rachel couldn’t be sure if that was because these two had dropped by in the middle of the night—though a quick glance at the clock showed it was just past ten—or if this information was somehow more sensitive than what she had carried from the Organization.
Judging from her position along the wall, Rachel took it she was supposed to be seen and not heard, so she focused on listening to the gesticulating lioness.
“I know the tradition demands secrecy,” the woman was saying, “but you guys obviously aren’t hung up on traditions or you wouldn’t have a cougar Alpha’s mate and a bear sitting across the table from me. So what’s the problem?”
“Zoe,” the man said softly, though it did nothing to check her.
“Our best bet is to come out to the humans,” the woman—Zoe—insisted.
“And become side-show acts,” Hugo rumbled in his big bass voice.
“If we do it together, strategically, we can come forward from a position of strength. If they out us, we won’t have that. We’ll be the victims of our own story. This way we choose.”
“Why now?” Roman asked, calm and unmoved by the woman’s theatrics.
It was the man at her side who spoke. “There are more abductions every day. The Organization is getting bolder.”
“We were kidnapped right off our own land,” Zoe growled.
“That’s been happening for twenty years,” Patch said, with a decided edge to her voice. “What makes you so special? Other than the fact that your abductors were more incompetent than most Organization operatives.”
“They were a splinter cell,” Zoe admitted. “But we were able to capture one of them and she gave up everything she knows. We know more now than ever before. We’re in a better position to expose them.”
Rachel realized with a jolt that these two shifters had no idea that the Lone Pine Pride had Organization captives of their own or that the Lone Pine group had been moving against the Organization for weeks. She sat up straighter and Kye’s hand fell on her shoulder, reminding her to stay quiet.
“If we come out,” Roman said with soft authority, “what happens to all the shifters in Organization captivity now?”
Zoe rocked back in her chair, clearly not interested in answering that question.
Roman raised his voice slightly, though he didn’t turn. “Rachel?”
Kye lifted his hand. Apparently it was time for her to perform.
“They die.”
The lioness across the table speared her with a sharp, unfriendly stare. “All right, who’s the human?”
“We have our own sources of Organization intel,” Patch said, with distinct satisfaction.
Roman did turn then, waving Rachel forward. “May I present Dr. Rachel Russell, late of the Organization.”
She rose and came to stand next to the table, Adrian shadowing the move. Zoe glowered at her, studying her with no small amount of hostility.
“You decided not to take your suicide pill when you were captured?”
“I defected.” Or she would have if she hadn’t been rescue/captured first. “And to the best of my knowledge only the security personnel and C Block interrogators were issued with suicide pills in a false tooth—the personnel most likely to wish for a quick death if the shifters should get loose. With the rest of us, they found it much more effective to use trackers, explosives and threats.”
The lioness frowned, mulling that over.
Rachel went on. “The reason there are more abductions is because the Organization is larger and better funded than they used to be. Money is power and in the last few years they’ve suddenly had plenty of both. This splinter cell of yours, how long ago did they break off?”
The pair across the table exchanged a look and it was the male who admitted, “We don’t know. The one who survived, who is giving us all our information, was never part of the Organization. She joined them after they’d already broken off.”
Rachel nodded. “That explains why they haven’t been more aggressive about eliminating her. The others must have broken away long enough ago and had relatively insignificant positions within the Organization or they never would have been allowed to survive breaking away.”
“You survived,” Zoe pointed out.
“They haven’t found me yet. Frankly, I’m surprised even minor members would be allowed to leave. Though for all we know there was an Organization hit squad on their way to take care of the problem when you saved them the trouble.”
“Would that information be in the files we have?” Roman asked. His tone was casual, but she knew the question was very deliberate. He wanted these two southern lions to know that Lone Pine was not only larger and more influential than their little Texas pride, but that they were better informed too.
“It should be.”
Roman nodded to Grace, who whipped out an iPad and pulled up the database Mateo had built from the Organization hard drives. “Names?” she asked, all business.
“You have access to Organization files?” Zoe demanded, but her mate provided the names.
Grace typed in the first one and there was only a second’s delay before she announced, “He has a file. Listed as deceased. Security officer who left the Organization after his repeated requests to be considered for positions with more active interaction with shifters were denied. Considered loyal to the cause and not a threat, but marked for continued observation. There’s a note at the bottom of the file. See incidence log Zoe King; Tyler Minor.”
The couple on the opposite side of the table jerked as if they’d been tased. “They have our names?”
Grace tapped into the database. “Whole files on you by the look of it.”
The man—Tyler, apparently—reached over to put his hand over Zoe’s fist on the table where her knuckles had gone white. “What about Ava Minor? Or Landon King?”
Grace nodded, typing rapidly. “They have files too. Nothing much. Just Known Location and some coordinates.”
“Jesus, they know about our whole pride.” Zoe lurched up from the table, pulling a cell phone from her pocket and quickly dialing. She stepped away from the table, her voice low and urgent when someone answered. Every shifter in the room would be able to hear what she was saying—and possibly the other end of the conversation as well—but to Rachel’s human ears the words were indistinct, though the edge of fear to her tone was readily apparent.
“Her brother is Alpha of our pride,” Tyler explained quietly. “We’ve suspected they knew about us, but he’ll want to know about this. How long have you had their files?” There was a slight edge to his voice, as if he felt Roman should have shared this information with the rest of the shifter community, but it was restrained, as everything about him seemed restrained.
“Only a few weeks,” Roman admitted. “We’re still learning the extent of it ourselves.”
The large lion on the opposite side of the table nodded, somewhat mollified.
Rachel wasn’t sure if she was only supposed to speak if she was spoken to, but her
curiosity was killing her. “How did you escape? When they captured you?”
She’d never heard of shifters breaking free during an acquisition—not that it had never happened before, but if it had the Organization had been quick to cover it up. Bad for morale, no doubt.
“They had us in a box truck. I kept shaking off the drugs they gave me faster than they expected—I could hear Zoe through the wall—”
“They transported you in the same vehicle?” Rachel frowned. That went against all protocols she’d ever read. “I was never in acquisitions and even I know that mated pairs are always separated immediately after capture. They’re too dangerous in close proximity to one another.”
Tyler frowned. “Candice mentioned something like that. Psychic mating bonds or some such ridiculousness. We thought it was just a function of the fact that she read Twilight too many times.”
“To the best of my knowledge, the Organization never actually proved the existence of a psychic mate bond, but there was something different about the mated pairs.”
Zoe returned to the table then, tucking away her cell phone, and Roman resumed control of the meeting.
“What do the other packs and prides think of your proposal?” he asked.
Zoe grimaced, visibly annoyed. “They all want to know what Lone Pine is going to do.”
Roman nodded as if he’d expected as much. “Lone Pine hasn’t decided yet,” he said with quiet authority. “Kye, find a place for our guests to spend the night. We’ll discuss this more in the morning.”
The leopard stepped forward, but the lions did not immediately rise in the face of their dismissal.
“We can’t stay hidden forever,” Zoe insisted. “The world is getting smaller, thanks to technology. We can’t even be sure that the Organization is the only group that’s figured out our secret.”
“I’m not suggesting staying hidden forever,” Roman said. “But we won’t rush into a course of action that will put more shifters at greater risk. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
Tyler rose, all but dragging Zoe up with him. “Until then, Alpha.”
His mate, obviously less accustomed to bending the knee to another’s authority, gritted her teeth and gave a little chin jerk of goodbye before following the ever-silent Kye out of the room.
There was a lingering moment of silence as the door closed behind them and they all waited for the group to get beyond the range of sensitive shifter hearing. Grace was the first one to speak.
“I don’t like her.”
Patch snorted. “That’s because she’s you.”
Grace gasped in mock horror. “Bite your tongue.”
The alpha’s mate chuckled. Roman held up a hand to forestall their conversation and turned to Rachel. “What do you think?”
“Their information is outdated, but they aren’t wrong. Coming out to the humans would put the Organization in a bad position—but it would also force them to get rid of the evidence of their wrong-doing and that could be very bad for any of the shifters they are holding when you go public.”
Roman nodded. He didn’t need to say more. They all understood the gravity of the situation. “Thank you, Dr. Russell. I won’t keep you from your bed any longer.”
There wasn’t so much as a hint of innuendo in his voice, but Rachel felt her face heating with a fiery blush as Adrian placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her to the door.
Had they been able to smell the sex on her? She wasn’t sure she was embarrassed even if they had. Sex seemed to be treated like a natural part of life here in the pride, not a sin to be ashamed of. She just wasn’t sure she was ready for everyone to be thinking of her and Adrian as a matched set, the same way they did of Patch and Roman or this Zoe and her Tyler. Rachel didn’t know where she stood with Adrian and it seemed unfair somehow that the shifters could smell their connection when even she didn’t know how far their affair would extend.
Adrian kept his hand on her back as he guided her home. They passed a few other shifters on the pathways before they reached the forest. It was not yet midnight and there were still several pride members out and about. They nodded greetings to Adrian and Rachel as if there was nothing odd about a bird-shifter and an ex-Organization doctor out for a stroll through the pride lands. They had to know who she was—there weren’t that many humans allowed to remain here, wandering about freely—but no one came after her with tar and feathers.
It was possible she could someday be accepted here. As an actual member of this wild and wonderful pride. It startled her how keenly she found she wanted that, to be part of this community. Especially if it meant Adrian at her side.
Her stomach clenched.
She was getting ahead of herself. Just because he’d shagged her silly didn’t mean anything would change. For all she knew when they got back to the cabin he would resume the same old routine—locking her in and only coming inside to stretch himself across the door after she was asleep. Perhaps the incendiary passion they’d shared was just an aberration to him. They hadn’t spoken about it. She was terrified of starting that conversation.
She fretted the entire walk back to the cabin. By the time they crossed the threshold, she had worked herself into such a state she couldn’t even look at the bed where she’d writhed beneath him only hours before. It was the world’s most uncomfortable mattress, but for those minutes it had been heaven.
And now the thought of curling up there without him as he stomped off into the night was almost unbearable.
“Thank you.”
Her heart suspended its beating for a moment when he spoke so close behind her. What was he thanking her for? Advising Roman? Sex? She didn’t turn to face him, still looking anywhere but the bed. “I don’t know what you—”
“I know you’re on our side,” he said, so close now his breath stirred the hair at her nape where she’d swept it up into a knot. “I know I’ve acted like you might betray us, but I wanted you to know that I can see that you aren’t out to hurt shifters.”
It was a magnanimous concession—and she wanted to punch him for it.
As if she needed his gratitude. As if she should be thanking him for realizing she wasn’t the devil incarnate. Rachel pulled away from the warmth at her back, stalking to the bed without hesitation now. “You’re quite welcome,” she said with all the sugary sweetness of her southern upbringing.
She caught his expression—sharp, unfiltered confusion—from the corner of her eye as she dug into her small stack of clothing, pulling out the bulkiest, ugliest flannel pajamas he’d brought for her.
“I’m trying to apologize,” he said irritably.
“Oh, were you?” she asked sweetly. “I must have missed that part.”
“Rachel—”
But she was already safely closed inside the bathroom, pressing her palms against cheeks warmed by anger. The pleaser instinct that had always ruled her life urged her to open the door, accept his apology—even if he hadn’t actually said he was sorry—and throw herself into his arms. But she didn’t want to be that woman anymore.
Another defining moment. Rachel Russell wasn’t the doormat anymore. Turns out she wanted amends.
He’d been treating her like a criminal for weeks and she deserved a proper apology, not just thanks-for-not-being-a-slimy-Organization-lowlife-after-all.
She took her time with her shower and her evening toilette, giving him plenty of opportunity to storm off in a huff while she armored herself in layers of flannel. But when she emerged from the bathroom, he was waiting for her, leaning against the table in only a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, arms roped with wiry muscle crossed over his bare chest. Her heart lifted at the sight. He hadn’t run.
“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as the door opened. “I was wrong. Whatever happened between you and me, you’ve always helped shifters. I shouldn’t have doubted that.”
His lips didn’t so much as twitch, but she saw amusement sparkle in his eyes at her sulky response. “You wanna come over here and let me make it up to you?”
“It might take a while to convince me you’re really sorry.” She had no idea where that flirty tone came from—a lady was never so forward—but her hawk didn’t seem shocked or appalled, if his slow, wicked smile was any indication.
He straightened from the table, unfolding his arms as he crossed the few feet between them. He reached out and hooked a finger between the top two buttons of her top, using it to tug her toward him. He lowered his head until their lips were a whisper apart.
“I think you’ll be impressed by how dedicated I am to earning your forgiveness,” he murmured.
Then his lips played over hers and for the next two hours Rachel found herself very, very impressed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Will you teach me kung fu?”
“It’s after midnight,” Adrian muttered sleepily. He’d done his level best to exhaust her and they’d both dozed for a while after the last bout, but a few minutes ago he’d heard the shift in her breathing and her fingers had begun walking over his chest as she lay curled against his side.
“Are there designated kung fu learning hours?”
He groaned and squeezed her waist without opening his eyes. He’d put on the flannel pajama pants and she wore the matching top to stave off the cold, but they were mostly keeping one another warm, pressed together tightly as they had to be in the small bed. “There are designated sleeping hours, and this is one of them.”
She squirmed against him and he knew without looking that she was propping herself up to frown down at him. “What if I’m attacked by a horde of angry ninjas tomorrow?”
“Run. Never try to fight angry ninjas.”
“Adrian.” She shoved him in the ribs.