by Paige Tyler
“Was that when you went to the homeless shelter?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but that didn’t work out any better than being at home. Too many people and too much noise. That’s actually where I met Spencer. He’s the one who suggested coming out here, that the solitude of the forest might help. I didn’t realize he’d taken his own advice until Stutmeir captured me and I saw Spencer in the cell next to mine.”
Zarina’s lips curved into a small smile. “You must have been thrilled when you came back out here and discovered he was okay.”
“Yeah, it was good seeing him,” Tanner agreed. He’d been freaked out when he’d first caught the hybrid scent on the breeze and followed it all the way to the prepper camp. He’d been sure he was losing his marbles. “But if we’re being honest, there was some baggage that came along with finding them, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I expected that seeing Spencer and the others would bring back some bad memories from my time in the lodge, and they did. But after I’d found them, I started having flashbacks about the battle in Kunduz again.”
“That’s not surprising.” Zarina rubbed her right thumb back and forth over his hand. “I’m not an expert in psychology, but I’ve read enough to know that when it comes to PTSD, flashbacks can be triggered by anything that pulls you back into those horrible moments when the trauma first happened. Hearing Spencer and the other guys talk about crawling out of the same kind of shallow grave you were in put you right back in that crater in Afghanistan. All these horrible events are interconnected in your mind, and they’re not going away until you find a way to deal with them.”
“That’s easy to say but hard to do.” He knew Zarina was right, but he wasn’t sure how to deal with them. “At some level, I blame myself for the death of the guys on my team as well as the Afghanis working with us. In my gut, I know that’s crazy. There was nothing I could have done differently that would have prevented their deaths. Every one of us was living on borrowed time the moment we went on that mission. That doesn’t do anything to change the feelings of guilt I have, though.”
“Guilt.” Understanding slowly dawned on her face. “Is that why you don’t want to take the antiserum? Because you’re beating yourself up about being alive when everyone else on your team in Afghanistan died?”
He dropped his gaze to their intertwined hands. “I suppose that’s part of it. Part of me keeps thinking I have no right to be alive when men who depended on me to bring them home didn’t make it. But it’s more than that.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He was so screwed up, he barely understood himself most of the time.
Tanner didn’t say anything for a moment, using the time to figure out how to put into words what he’d kept hidden in the darkest, most private corner of his mind for a very long time.
“I’ve lied to myself from the day those doctors turned me into a hybrid,” he finally admitted. “I allowed myself to believe the beast inside me was entirely to blame for me being an out-of-control monster. That it wasn’t me doing all those things but the animal inside me.”
She sagged a little, her body relaxing as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “You’re scared to take the antiserum because if it works and you’re still out of control, you’ll have to face the fact that it was never the beast inside you. You’ll have to accept that it’s your PTSD and a past you’ve never wanted to deal with.”
There it was. Out there for the world to see. Or Zarina at least. As far as he was concerned, she was the whole world.
“Stupid, huh? Especially since I had violent episodes way before I ever became a hybrid.” He snorted. “I guess I’d rather hide away and lie to myself by blaming the corrupt part of my DNA than face the fact that I’m broken.”
Zarina’s eyes flashed. Tightening her grip on his hands, she stood and tugged him to his feet. “You are not broken! You’re a man who went through one horrible event after another. But you’ve kept going, fighting against your inner demons as hard as you fight to protect the people you care about. Instead, all you see are those moments when you’ve lost control. You forget that every time you lost control, you regained it before you hurt anyone important to you. If you choose not to take the antiserum, that’s your decision, and I’ll support it. I won’t push you to take a drug you don’t want to take. But I refuse to stand around for one more second and watch the man I care about wallow in this pain by himself.”
Tanner opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
“I won’t let you push me away, and I won’t let you deal with those issues alone anymore. If you don’t want to talk about your PTSD with anyone else, then you’ll have to talk about it with me. If you want to isolate yourself from the rest of the world, that’s fine, too, but we’ll do it together.”
Zarina’s heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. He’d never seen her get this upset before. Suddenly, a little bit of the weight he’d been carrying on his shoulders disappeared. He was still carrying an ass load of baggage, but by standing up to him and refusing to let him go it alone anymore, Zarina had somehow taken some of it herself.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “So, you care about me, huh?”
She seemed taken aback for a moment, eyeing him like she thought he was up to something. Or stupid. “Yes, but that should be obvious. I’ve chased you all the way across this very wide country and hiked alone through the wilderness to find you. Of course I care about you. You’re the most important person in the world to me.”
His inner lion let out a soft hum of contentment. “Then I guess I should admit one other reason I had for not taking the antiserum.”
“What’s that?”
“A part of me was worried you wouldn’t be interested in me if I wasn’t a hybrid anymore. That I wouldn’t be the same scientific challenge I am now.”
She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “Tanner, I’m interested in you because of who you are, not what you are. I thought that was obvious.”
He shrugged. “I’m a guy. Sometimes we miss the obvious stuff. It’s genetic.”
“I know for a fact it isn’t,” Zarina said. “You’re simply a stubborn man who would rather be alone than let a woman put herself at risk for you or share your pain. It’s time to let me in.”
Tanner suddenly realized the feelings he had for her weren’t one-sided—she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. It was insane to believe. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman who could have any man in the world, while he was an unemployed, damaged veteran with a moody personality and claws that came out at the worst possible time. He didn’t see the attraction on her part, but maybe it was time to accept it. That was why he stopped thinking so damn much and let instinct take over.
Cupping her face in his hand, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, kissing her like he’d wanted to kiss her since the day she’d swept in and risked her life to save his. Her taste nearly made him delirious, and he groaned in appreciation.
Zarina sighed and weaved her fingers into his hair, urging him to kiss her harder. He grasped her waist, tugging her close even as he pulled her ponytail holder off with his other hand and buried it in her silky tresses.
His body responded immediately, desire rippling through him as his tongue found hers, his cock hardening, his gums and fingers starting to ache. For once, he ignored the signs of a hybrid episode and simply lost himself in Zarina. This moment was exactly the way he’d dreamed it would be, even if he’d never imagined it would happen.
She glided her tongue along the tip of his, teasing it and making him chase her. Tanner pursued with a soft growl, fitting her more snugly against him. She was all womanly curves against the hard planes of his body.
He’d just about caught her tongue when she pulled away.
The move yanked Tanner out of the moment so q
uickly, it was painful. Breathing ragged, he gazed down at her, terrified he’d done something wrong. Pushed too fast. Nicked her tongue with his fangs.
But Zarina was regarding him with a drowsy, languid expression, a fire burning in her eyes so bright, he wondered if she possessed shifter DNA of her own.
“Maybe we should finish this back at the cabin,” she suggested.
He would rather have gone to someplace that had a big, luxurious bed made with soft sheets, fluffy blankets, and mountains of pillows. But the cabin would do just fine. Unless…
“Unless you think we should wait until later,” he said. “For a better time and place?”
Zarina went up on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “There will never be a better time or place to be with you.”
Stepping back, she took his hand and gave it a tug. He reached down and scooped up her pack, falling into step beside her and praying he was doing the right thing.
Chapter 8
It was already dark when they pulled into the driveway of Joanne Harvey’s secluded home on the northeast edge of the Scarborough city limits, and Chase was forced to slow down to almost a crawl on the curvy gravel road. Tate’s mouth twitched. That must have seriously irritated the former marine.
“Is it a law that every home up here has to be hidden in the woods at the end of a creepy driveway?” Tate asked.
Chase grinned. “Haven’t you ever read Stephen King? The man has spent most of his adult life convincing people this state is the scariest place in the world. We can’t go ruining all that work with a bunch of well-lit subdivisions sitting on perfectly manicured lawns. What’d be scary about that?”
Tate nodded. “Point taken. Maybe that should be on your license plates. Maine, the Scary State.”
The deputy seemed to consider that. “It could work, but I think the tourist association might have a problem with it.”
Tate chuckled. It was funny how well Chase was handling all this cloak-and-dagger crap. He’d expected the guy to hound him with nonstop questions all the way out here. What kind of research was Mahsood doing? Where was Brannon’s daughter now? How did anything Tate had told him explain the wounds that had killed Bell? But Chase had barely said a word, other than making an occasional comment on the how they might handle the impending conversation with Joanne. Tate was relieved as hell the deputy wasn’t asking questions he couldn’t answer yet.
Tate was just thinking that he was going to have to answer them eventually and about what the hell he was going to say when the patrol car jerked to a halt on the gravel driveway.
“Oh shit.” Chase killed the engine and turned off the headlights. “This can’t be good.”
Tate cursed at the sight of the two dark SUVs parked diagonally across the driveway, blocking the garage. Beside him, Chase grabbed his radio and called for immediate backup. Tate barely heard him identifying himself as an off-duty deputy from Oxford County and reporting suspicious activity at Joanne’s address. He was more interested in what the hell was happening in the house.
Jumping out of the car, he pulled his DCO-issued 9mm and approached the pair of SUVs. Based on the position of the small two-door coupe half in and half out of the garage, it looked like Joanne had been in the process of leaving just as the SUVs had shown up, but she was nowhere to be seen.
The driver and passenger doors of both SUVs were wide open, and the engines were still running. That meant there were probably four bad guys on the scene, which weren’t horribly terrible odds. Unless one of those four bad guys was the shifter or hybrid who’d torn Bell apart. Then they were shitty odds.
Tate took a quick look in the first SUV he passed, confirming it was empty before moving into the garage. The door leading into the house was open, and he could make out the outline of a hallway with a dim glow of light at the end.
Chase caught up with Tate as he approached the door. The deputy nodded once as he took up a cover position. Tate returned his nod, then led the way into the house and down the hall.
They’d just entered the country-style kitchen when Tate heard a woman’s scream. It was immediately followed by the sound of struggling, then a low-pitched growl.
Tate cursed. There was definitely a shifter or a hybrid in there, which meant he and Chase probably only had a few seconds to get to the woman before their scents gave them away. It also meant the cop was about to get his first introduction to the real world the hard way.
He glanced at the deputy. “You’re about to see some crap you’re going to have a hard time dealing with,” he whispered. “But it’s real, so watch yourself. These things are more dangerous than you can imagine. If you get a chance, shoot to kill.”
Tate knew Chase would have liked more information, and in a different situation, he would have supplied it. But right now, there simply wasn’t time. Ignoring Chase’s questioning look, he hurriedly crossed the kitchen and into the living room beyond, hoping the man would follow.
The living room was as poorly lit as the kitchen had been, but there was enough light to see the two men coming down the stairs, a struggling Joanne Harvey in their arms. A third man moved slowly behind the others, his graceful movements giving him away as the shifter or hybrid. There was another person on the upstairs landing, but the angle was bad, and Tate couldn’t make out enough details to even tell if the last person in the group was a man or a woman.
Tate didn’t recognize any of the men, but he knew their type immediately. Big, fit-looking mercenaries, they seemed completely unfazed by Joanne’s cries of pain as they dragged her down the stairs.
The shifter must have smelled them at the same time as Tate stepped forward and lifted his weapon, because his head snapped up, his eyes glowing vivid green. That answered one question. They were definitely dealing with a shifter. Probably the one who’d shredded Bell.
Well, on the bright side, they weren’t dealing with a psychotic, out-of-control hybrid. Instead, they were up against a psychotic, completely in-control shifter. That was so much better.
“Police! Stop where you are, and let the woman go!” Chase ordered as he moved past Tate and farther into the living room in an attempt to cover everyone on the stairs.
Judging from the firm, authoritative tone of voice Chase used, the deputy was used to people doing exactly what he told them. Too bad it wasn’t likely to work out that way this time.
Everyone did freeze, though, for all of three seconds. Then all hell broke loose.
One of the two goons on the stairs yanked Joanne against his chest like a human shield while the other leaned close for cover. In a blur, both men reached behind their backs and came out with a matching set of Micro Uzis. A split second later, the shifter launched himself off the second-floor landing, heading straight for Chase, eyes blazing, claws and fangs on full display.
Tate would have tried to shove the deputy out of the way, but before he could move, the living room exploded with the sound of two fully automatic submachine guns tearing the place apart. He barely avoided the hail of gunfire, darting into the kitchen just as the carpet in front of him was riddled with bullets.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shifter hit Chase square in the chest. But instead of the graceful feline killer driving the cop down to the floor like he probably intended, the deputy rolled back with the impact, getting a foot planted in the shifter’s gut at the same time and sending him flying over his head and bouncing him off the coffee table.
The shifter was up in a flash, rage twisting his features. Chase scrambled to his feet and ran full speed toward his attacker, driving him backward and straight through the big picture window in the living room. Breaking glass was accompanied by a few curses and a whole lot of growling, then both men disappeared from sight into the darkness.
Seeing their shifter buddy vanish like that must have stunned the two men on the stairs, because the shooting came to a sudden halt. Then
again, maybe the men were just reloading. Micro Uzis tended to go through ammo quickly. Either way, Tate wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
He stepped into the living room and aimed at the gunman still holding Joanne up on the stairs, knowing he didn’t have much of a target to work with. A couple of inches the wrong way and he’d completely miss the guy or hit Joanne instead. But he hit what the hell he was aiming at, clipping the guy in the shoulder. It wasn’t a fatal shot, but it rattled the man enough to make him release Joanne and take a step back.
Joanne seized her chance. Swinging an elbow at the second man, she whacked him in the face, knocking him backward. The moment she was free, she hurried down the stairs.
Tate charged forward to meet her, popping a few more shots at the men on the steps at the same time. He ended up putting another 9mm through the leg of the guy he’d already shot in the shoulder. The man just about took a header off the stairs, but then a woman’s arm suddenly reached out and yanked him back, practically picking the man up off his feet as she got him and the second guy out of the line of fire.
Even though her face was visible for barely a second, that was all the time it took for Tate to realize he’d seen her before. She was the wolf shifter Declan and Kendra had fought with back in February after the group she was with had tried to murder William Hamilton and his daughter. Tate and the rest of his team hadn’t gotten there until everything was over and the female wolf shifter was long gone, but he’d seen photos of her afterward. While she might be attractive as hell, she was also a hired killer.
He aimed his weapon, ready to take a shot, but before he could fire, she and the two men disappeared from sight. He cursed. Everything in him wanted to go after them, but he still had Joanne to worry about. If the growls coming from outside were any indication, he needed to worry about Chase, too.
Tate urged Joanne into the kitchen, keeping an eye on the landing above him in case the two men or the wolf shifter came back. But when he heard a window breaking up there, he knew the three of them had bailed. Which was kind of crazy, since they could have overwhelmed him by sheer numbers if they’d tried.