Going Nowhere: A BAMF Team Novel

by Abbie Zanders

  That was a great, big hell no.

  I couldn’t explain any of that to Gram, though. She sensed something was wrong, but I couldn’t tell her the truth—that I had screwed up big time. That I had broken the most sacred rule of those gifted with special abilities—to never reveal our secrets outside the family.

  It had been unintentional, but it had happened, and now I needed to deal with those consequences. The key word there was “I,” not “we.”

  I could take my grandmother’s fussing and meddling, but I couldn’t bear to see her hurt because I had messed up. The less she knew, the safer she was. Therefore, instead of telling her the real reason I was laying low in Nowaskannock, I’d offered vague allusions to “man trouble.” That kind of thing was universal, regardless of ancestry, race, or religion, and easily believed. Besides, strictly speaking, it was the truth. Roger Chamberlain was a man, and he was definitely trouble.

  Before she could press for more information, a sharp rap upon the kitchen door startled me.

  Gram gave me a worried glance before peeking out between the brightly colored curtains. “It’s just Reid, child. Relax.”

  That was my cue to skedaddle.

  “I have to go.”

  I was already up, sliding into my lined, black leather jacket, and halfway to the door that led out the back before she said, “Please, Alyx, just meet him.”

  “No.” The word came out more harshly than I’d intended, and I immediately felt bad.

  No part of my crappy situation was her fault. I’d gotten myself into this mess, and I was going to get myself out ... somehow.

  “I’m sorry, Gram. I have to head in early today. Dylan’s having another spinal tap this morning, and I promised I’d be there.”

  Her face immediately softened. “Oh, that poor child. Let me wrap up some rolls for you to take to him.”

  I nodded in concession. “I think he’d like that. Thanks, Gram. I’ll pick them up on my way out.”

  * * *

  Reid

  When the door opened, I looked down into the smiling face of my elderly neighbor, and my acute olfactory senses shot straight into heaven with the smells of freshly brewed hazelnut coffee and warm, buttery baked goods.

  “Mmm ... Are those your special cinnamon rolls I smell, Mrs. Quirke?”

  “You know they are,” she laughed, taking my coat and hanging it on one of the oversized hooks by the door. “Come on in, dear, and sit down. And must I ask you again to call me Grace?”

  Remembering my manners, I wiped my boots on the welcome mat before entering.

  Grace was already pouring me a mug by the time I sat down at the old table, scarred by many years of use. As always, the kitchen was bright and cheery with its sunny yellow walls and whitewashed trim. The cabinets were old but gleaming with polish. The furniture, well-worn and welcoming.

  “You were hurt again,” she accused, her hawk-like gaze having caught my slight limp.

  “It’s nothing.” I closed my eyes as I took that first incredible sip. Damn, the woman could teach Starbucks a thing or two about making good coffee.

  Grace pierced me with her bright blue eyes. “Don’t you lie to me, Reid MacIntyre. I may be an old woman, but I am not stupid.”

  I flashed her the grin I had perfected with my own grandmother years earlier. She’d always seen right through my bullshit, too.

  “And don’t bother putting on the charm, either. Won’t do you a lick of good with me, boy.” Her words were stern but her expression was tender.

  She pulled two huge, gooey rolls from the finished tray and put them on a plate in front of me, smiling indulgently as I took a bite and groaned. “There is nothing in this world that tastes better than your homemade cinnamon rolls, Mrs. Quirke, and these are even more exceptional than usual.”

  “My granddaughter made them,” she said slowly, and I noticed the tone of her voice had changed.

  I kept my smile, but the short hairs on the back of my neck prickled. As a shifter, I never ignored my instincts—this was clearly a warning. I opted to proceed, but with extreme caution. After all, gathering intel on the mysterious tenant over the workshop was one of my primary objectives this morning.

  “I take it your granddaughter is the one living in the apartment out back?” I asked casually.

  “You’ve seen her, then?”

  “More like her shadow,” I admitted, not sure how much I should mention. I wanted information, not to get the girl in trouble. Her sneaking around might be wholly innocuous.

  “Like a wraith, that one is. She works late into the night and is afraid of waking me when she comes in.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a nurse at Nowaskannock Hospital. Pediatric oncology unit.” Grace finished wrapping something on the counter, then grabbed the bowl of icing and started covering another batch of rolls.

  “You mean kids with cancer?” Of all the profiles I had run through my mind after seeing the stealthy little figure in black last night, that hadn’t been one of them.

  Grace’s brows knitted together. Concern filled her eyes as she nodded.

  “You worry about her,” I guessed.

  “Yes,” Grace admitted, “I do.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to respond to that, so I wisely kept my mouth shut, even though my interest ratcheted up a notch.

  The low hum of the small, black bike resounded through the kitchen, shaking Grace from her reverie. “Oh, the rolls!” she exclaimed, jumping up for some aluminum foil. “Reid, be a dear and run these outside please. My hip is acting up today with this ridiculous cold weather.”

  Chances were, Grace’s hip was more than capable of making it to the door just fine, but I wasn’t about to call her on it. She wanted me to meet her granddaughter, and I had to admit, I was mildly curious.

  I dutifully stood and took the warm package to the door, where I found myself face-to-face with a figure wrapped in black. Actually, we were more like face-to-chest. She was small enough that the top of her helmet barely reached my chin.

  Scents of cold air, leather, and a uniquely feminine musk filled my lungs, rousing my slumbering wolf and bringing him closer to the surface.

  Judging by the sudden tensing of her body, she had been expecting Grace to open the door, not me. As she lifted her head up and up, her face hidden behind mirrored, wraparound visor, I felt the heat in my body rise with her gaze until I was pretty sure she was looking into my face.

  I made a half-hearted attempt at a friendly smile, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Her stance became instantly wary. The sharp tang of fear tickled my nostrils even as she took a hefty step backward.

  In her haste to retreat, her foot went beyond the stoop and she lost her balance. I reached out, and the instant my hand wrapped around her wrist, the contact zapped through me like a live wire. She must have felt it, too. She pulled away as if burned, landing hard on her rear end with a soft “umph.” I took a step forward to help her, but she backpedaled on her hands right into the driveway.

  “Easy,” I said, putting my hands up to show her I meant no harm, only then realizing I still held the rolls.

  In a move of fluid grace, she got to her feet. I might not have been able to see her eyes, but I could damn sure feel them lasering into mine, searing my skin and making me instantly hard.

  My wolf was now fully alert. I wished to hell I could see what was generating all that power beneath that visor.

  “Here.” With a slow, easy movement, I lobbed the foil package.

  She snatched it out of the air easily with one hand. The next second, she was straddling the bike and shooting off like a bat out of hell.

  I stood in the doorway, watching until I could no longer see the taillights.

  I had put the fear of God into my fair share of people before, but that had been with deliberate intent. This woman had reacted to my simple presence.

  I closed the door, turning right into Grace’s knowing gaze.


  “It’s not your fault,” she said, patting my arm.

  “Is she like that with everyone?”

  “Yes,” Grace said sadly. “Except me and the kids she cares for.”

  “Why?” I clamped my mouth shut. The word had tumbled out before I could stop it. It really wasn’t any of my business.

  My wolf disagreed, clawing at my insides for more information.

  Grace poured us both another cup of coffee then sat back down at the table. She pulled the big bowl of icing toward her once again, making swirls with the spatula as she considered her answer. The familiar actions seemed to soothe her.

  I waited patiently until her sharp eyes found mine.

  “You’re not the only one with dark secrets, Reid,” she said finally.

  I was only mildly surprised Grace knew I had some dark secrets. I was beginning to realize there might have been more to my wizened old neighbor than met the eye. Either she was an exceptionally cognizant human, or something more. Definitely not a shifter, but maybe something. Hey, I wasn’t foolish enough to believe shifters were the only preternatural beings walking around.

  “Maybe I can help.” I shouldn’t have said that, either. What was wrong with me? Getting personally involved beyond the occasional home repair would have been a blatant disregard of my own rules. It went against every tenet of rational, acceptable behavior as far as I was concerned, yet my instincts were urging me forward.

  “Maybe,” Grace said on a sigh. “Maybe.” Her eyes lost some of their direct focus, reinforcing my theory that there was more to Grace than met the eye.

  I sat quietly, drinking my coffee, letting her get to it in her own time. I had nothing better to do. My only other option was to head back to my empty house and find something to keep my hands and mind occupied. Grace’s intriguing granddaughter was already commanding a fair portion of my thoughts, so I decided to appease my wolf and tough it out.

  After a while, Grace gave a barely imperceptible nod, obviously having come to a decision.

  I held my breath.

  “Would you like to see a picture of her?”

  The question wasn’t what I had expected, but I nodded and smiled politely while my wolf paced anxiously back and forth. Hadn’t I just wished I could see what was hidden beneath that helmet?

  Grace retrieved a photo album from the small rolltop desk in the corner and sat down next to me. Then she paused, her hands on the cover. “Reid,” she said slowly, “Alyxandra is very precious to me.”

  My green eyes met her blue ones. She didn’t turn away, one of the few capable of holding my gaze. If anything, her resolve seemed to strengthen.

  “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  Did I? She was worried about her granddaughter, I got that. However, her words weighed heavier than mild concern. I was pretty sure it was a veiled warning along the lines of “Beware, all ye who enter here,” but I had never backed down from a challenge, even one that set off alarm bells in the back of my head.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I found myself saying.

  Her blue eyes flashed with approval. “Good.”

  I pushed down my unease, smothering it beneath a sense of anticipation. When was the last time I had actually felt excited about something? Every mission carried with it some sense of apprehension, but this ... this was different. This was what my grandfather would have called prescience. A sense of destiny.

  Grace set the album on the table between us. The moment she opened the cover, the apprehension that had been building exploded like a bomb in my chest.

  Grace’s granddaughter was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. Petite, with luscious curves. Golden hair like sunshine.

  And huge, liquid amber eyes, with those dark striations I knew so well.

  Mate! my wolf howled immediately.

  Oh, fuck no! my human half yelled back.

  Every rational part of my brain screamed for me to stop now, right now, and mind my own business. I was only here temporarily, on forced medical leave to recover from the injury that nearly shattered my right leg. A mental leave to get my shit together before I did something reckless that cost someone his life.

  But the irrational parts—my heart, my soul, my dick—they all ganged up against the smarter parts and beat the living hell out of them. They wanted her, as evidenced by a clawing need deep in my belly.

  Grace watched me closely. Too closely. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I nodded, hiding my internal turmoil beneath a practiced mask of neutrality. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Part of me insisted I was mistaken, but I wasn’t. There was no mistaking those eyes. They were the eyes that had been haunting me. The ones I had been seeing in my dreams. Even in the still photograph, they gave the illusion of a flowing current. Ever moving. Alive. Beseeching. Promising ...

  “This was taken a few years ago,” Grace was saying as my mind struggled to come back online. “She came to stay with me for a few weeks when I broke my hip. A great help she was, too. Couldn’t have made it through without her.”

  So, she was beautiful and loved her grandmother. She was also sexy as hell, and had a thing for black leather and speed. God help me.

  The next hour passed quickly as Grace showed me picture after picture of Alyxandra—even her name made my wolf want to growl and claim—ranging from the time she had been a little girl—more hair than girl—up to the one a few months earlier. In every one, my gaze was immediately drawn to her eyes first, and only once I had paid them proper homage could I look at everything else in the picture.

  I watched her blossom from a cute little thing into a goddess. There was no other word for it. Through the photos and stories Grace recounted, I learned she was fierce, stubborn, and a daredevil at heart. That didn’t jibe with the skittish creature I had encountered earlier.

  A wave of protectiveness rushed to the surface, unnerving in its intensity.

  By the end of the album, Grace still hadn’t told me anything particularly useful. When I finally asked her point blank what kind of dark secrets her granddaughter needed help with, she refused to tell me, saying that it was up to Alyx to decide what she would and would not share. When I followed that up with a perfectly reasonable “How exactly do you think I can help?” she simply smiled enigmatically and said I would have to figure that one out on my own.

  Unaccommodating female.

  Yet, I couldn’t help but embrace the challenge she’d lain out before me.

  Mission accepted.

  Chapter Three

  Reid

  As recon went, it was pretty sweet. I sat in my cozy, warm house in my comfortable recliner, positioned and inclined for a perfect view of Grace’s driveway and the street. I had endured long hours of remaining perfectly still in bug-infested jungles, gator-laden swamps, and hot, arid deserts. I didn’t mind this at all.

  I heard the low hum of the high-speed bike long before I saw it. Just like the night before, the engine cut out at the street, and then the bike coasted silently along the driveway. And, as before, the black shadow moved with it, fluid and graceful. Unlike last night, however, I now knew every feature of the face hidden beneath the mask and had become personally invested in discovering more.

  I refused to blindly accept my wolf’s claim that Alyxandra Laskaris was my mate. I was more than my animal. That didn’t mean I was going to completely disregard what he was telling me. Instead, I chose to approach the situation like I would any other mission. I planned to learn everything I could about the mysterious female with the haunting eyes, beginning with why she was so spooked and hiding out at her grandmother’s place in Nowhere, and ending with why it was her eyes I saw when I closed my lids.

  I had already placed a few discreet phone calls. Now it was all about the waiting. Waiting and observing. Know thine enemy and all that.

  Not that I considered Alyxandra—Alyx—an enemy, per se. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping on some level that my wolf was wrong about her. I didn’t need a mate. I di
dn’t want a mate. I was damn good at what I did, and one of the reasons was because I had nothing to lose. Caring about someone was a weakness I couldn’t afford.

  * * *

  Alyx

  I forced myself to keep my pace brisk, even though all I wanted to do was run to the safety of my loft. Green Eyes was watching me. I could feel his gaze upon me, scanning me from tip to toe as keenly as if it had been his hands roaming over me instead.

  And what eyes they were! A deep, crystalline green that went on forever and gave the impression they saw things that were never meant to be seen. My body shivered, and it wasn’t because of the cold, though it was damn cold.

  Most people thought I was crazy to be driving the compact, speedy cycle back and forth to the hospital in this kind of weather. That was exactly why I did it—because it was insane. Because everyone told me I shouldn’t. Because in some small, completely insignificant way, I was asserting control over my own life and chucking the bird at those who believed they had the right to tell me how to live.

  It was my life. Sure, I made mistakes, but risk and failure were as much an integral part of living as success, and I wanted to experience it all. The important thing was, I was willing to take full responsibility for my choices, both good and bad.

  Staying away from my grandmother’s neighbor definitely fell into the “good choice” category. Not only was Gram trying to push us together, the man was a living example of Trouble with a capital T. Tall, muscular, and freaking gorgeous, with the intensity of a summer storm, he was exactly what I didn’t need.

  I closed the door behind me, then leaned against it with a sigh of relief, and disappointment, maybe, when I could no longer feel his gaze. Who was he, really? And why did I feel such an instant, powerful attraction to him? One look at him in my grandmother’s doorway and I had the wholly insane urge to jump into his arms and have my wicked way with him. That was totally unlike me. I was crazy, but I wasn’t that crazy.

  I’d never had that kind of a reaction to anyone. At most, I had felt mild interest, or maybe a completely normal moment of lusty appreciation when a particularly attractive man crossed my path.