Lucas nodded. “Sure, but...”
“I think he’s unconsciously doing something to prevent his Chimaera from appearing. Maybe even from being born. Punishing himself.” She removed her hand from the mechanic’s forehead. “The goons that brought them here work for some drug dealer. Our missing people weren’t moving when he saw them.”
“Give me the name.”
“Leonard Riscorato. He heard them say she’d stolen some money from him.”
Lucas groaned. “That’s the guy who put out a hit on Morgan.”
“Then it’s time we return the favor.” Jerome surged to his feet and offered Laney a hand up. “Are you up for the hunt?”
“Sure. I want to meet this Morgan.” Laney smiled. “I have the feeling I’ll like her, if she’s capable of working Cal into a frenzy.”
“She scared Jana.”
Laney’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe I don’t want to meet her then.”
Cal stayed where he was, waiting for Laney to finish the walk down the runway. The fact that she was the one sent to get him pushed him to think she hadn’t learned anything from the mechanic. Neither Lucas nor Jerome enjoyed being the bearers of bad news. Once she was close enough, he said, “No go?”
“Lucas is tapping contacts to locate one Leonard Riscorato.”
The name was familiar, and Cal frowned. “That’s...”
“The dealer Morgan stole fifty K from. Sounds like the new girl’s into doing things big.” Laney cocked her head. “How are you holding up, boss man?”
“I’m not the one everyone should be worrying about.”
“Except everyone is. Did you know Sebastian contacted me? He wanted me to come in and stay home for a while.”
Cal blinked. “Why?”
“Because of you. Or maybe ‘because of Morgan’ is more to the point.” Straightening her head, she held out her hand. “Let’s head back, and I’ll fill you in on what everyone’s gossiping about.”
He took her hand, but said, “I know what everyone’s gossiping about: what an asshole I was to Morgan.”
Laney tugged him into motion. “That’s the general consensus, sure, but that’s not the hot gossip. They think she may be your Chimaera, Cal.”
He stopped. “What? She’s not.”
“Are you certain? Sebastian told Jake no one knows anything about Chimaeras’ appearances.” She pulled until he began walking again. “If you don’t know the signs, then how can you tell whether she is or isn’t?”
“I’d know.” Wouldn’t I? “She’s only changed to wolf. Nothing else. Not even when she’s been extremely pissed. And how the hell did you pick up on the gossip? You’ve been gone from headquarters for two months.”
Laney chuckled, a low, throaty noise he’d always enjoyed hearing. Even now, with all the stress and worries, he found it soothing. “I always have my sources, boss. Those sources have also informed me that Thane’s grown extremely attached to Morgan.”
“He has.”
“Which is a problem, if she’s your Chimaera.”
“She’s not.”
Laney swung around in front of him and Cal stopped short. She’d released his hand, pointed at his face. “You don’t think she is, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t. You’re the world’s worst about kissing and telling, Cal. You told Sebastian there were weird shocks each time you touched Morgan at first.”
“She could have a psychic ability.”
“Oh, for,” Laney rolled her eyes. “Okay, sure, she could. And I could be the Queen of England. What about the factoid you passed on about the increase in your sexual appetite?”
Cal scowled and pushed her finger down. “Remind me to use my nephew for target practice for a few weeks once this is over.”
“Like that’ll happen.” She put her hands on her hips and smiled. “Do you still want me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Women know, Cal. You wanted me, I said no, but you were still highly attracted to me.”
He studied her face. “I’m still attracted to you.”
“As much as you were? Because I could practically smell the lust pouring from you there for a while.” Laney leaned close and took an exaggerated sniff of his chest. “Not so much now, boss.”
Before he could decide how to respond—when had she started speaking so bluntly?—she continued. “And what about Morgan basically terrifying Jana with a look, and the fact that she managed to ignore one of your commands and tried to attack you?”
“She’s obviously quite dominant.” Cal stepped around her while Laney turned to follow him. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s been extremely dominant right off the bat. I’m rusty dealing with such an Awakened one.”
“Fine, how about the fact she was in the final stage of Awakening for so long?”
“Maybe she was fighting it. She’s a stubborn woman.”
“Oh, Cal. You’re,” Laney shook her head. “You’re determined to keep punishing yourself.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” He spotted Lucas leaving the hangar. Jerome followed after a few seconds.
“Signs, boss man. Have you ever felt those shocks before? Have you ever had a female wolf able to break your command before? What about the sexual factor? Have you ever wanted another woman that badly, so quickly after meeting her? Especially one with as bad an attitude as Morgan reportedly has? Or have you ever gotten so bent out of shape over a woman, ever?”
No, I haven’t. He wasn’t going to admit it to Laney, and didn’t need to say anything out loud because she shot him a look that said she’d heard the thought. “She hates me.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you about that, but I do think you’d better start considering the possibility that Morgan is your Chimaera. If she is, you’re going to have to fix things with her. Even if she isn’t, you’re going to have to fix things with her.” Laney lowered her voice. “You don’t want her becoming a figurehead for those who haven’t forgiven you, Cal.”
A chill slipped down his spine. “What have you heard?”
“Older Weres of the other species are rabble rousing about the past. And it’s getting louder. All they need is someone to hoist on their shoulders, and they’ll rebel against you.” Laney scowled. “There’s even talk of going public.”
“I want names.” He did not need that kind of problem, now or ever.
“Check your email, boss. I sent you a list.”
Cal slid his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “You’re my favorite operative.”
Laney rolled her eyes again, but laughed.
Chapter Twenty-one
Thane fought for partial consciousness, only to relax as he felt Morgan’s now-familiar body next to his. She was warm. It was quiet. For a few minutes, that was enough for him, until prior events began to resurface in his memory.
Not immediately opening his eyes, he tested the air for scents. Morgan, clean sheets, and the unmistakable, though faint, mustiness of vampire. Thane slowly opened his eyes. The lighting was dim, but they were in a bed, in a strange bedroom. The walls were stone, and the door metal. There weren’t any windows.
We’re still prisoners. Accepting that for the moment, he slowly sat up and looked at Morgan. She looked much better than the last time he’d seen her. Her face was a green and yellow rainbow of old bruising, scabs dotted across it, and her lips were little more than solid scabbing, but most of the swelling was gone. There was an IV line attached to the back of her left hand, and she was obviously as nude under the sheet covering them both as he was.
He felt fine, and upon checking, saw no signs of trauma other than a shiny pink spot in the middle of his chest. The new skin was sensitive, and felt delicate, but the only sensation coming from it was an itch. Thane resisted scratching it in favor of gently checking Morgan’s jaw. It was properly in place.
He squinted at the bag hanging from a hook on the wall and recognized the liquid it contained: some super mix of nutrients one of Cal’
s scientific geniuses had whipped up to help speed healing for Weres even more. Not something just anyone could get their hands on. Less time could’ve passed than he thought then, if he’d been given the same treatment. Maybe we’re not prisoners anymore.
Except he’d never seen such a room before that he could remember, not at any of Cal’s homes or any of the organization’s holdings. And there was that faint vampire smell. It could be from Sebastian. All vampires smelled alike, under whatever colognes or perfumes they used. He sniffed again, but didn’t smell Sebastian’s preferred cologne.
Remembering the threats made toward Morgan, Thane lifted the sheet slightly and took a deep sniff of her scent. Though someone had obviously washed them both, he picked up the odor of old blood. He didn’t smell anything that indicated someone had raped her after he had been shot.
One less nightmare for her to deal with. He lowered the sheet and touched her hair before leaving the bed. The stone floor felt cool under his feet. First things first. Thane began to carefully stretch, working out the stiffness he always felt after healing from major trauma.
Goosebumps broke out all over him as he scanned the room while stretching. Calling it a bedroom was generous, as the bed and an old-fashioned chamber pot in one corner were the only furnishings. It was a cell. A stone cage. Seventy-one years had passed since the were-liger had last spent time in a cell, and that one had been on the lowest level of headquarters.
It hadn’t been so bad. Cal had slowly furnished it, piece by piece, allowing Thane time to grow accustomed to each change before adding something new. The First had visited twice daily, eating breakfast and dinner with him. He smiled, remembering Cal’s patience with teaching him how to use a fork and knife properly, and his delight in introducing Thane to new foods.
The memory calmed the were-liger; the goosebumps faded. He walked the perimeter of the room, checked for loose stones, and tried the door. It was locked, but there were two potential openings: a small square a jailer could open to look through, and a slot at the bottom to push things through. Both were covered and locked down. He took a slow deep breath, released it more slowly, and went back to stand beside the bed to look at Morgan. I can’t panic. She needs me to be strong until we figure a way out of here.
Or maybe she didn’t. She’d proven herself plenty strong, making her first vampire kill alone, and then acting to let those men know the two of them weren’t helpless just because they’d been chained. Morgan hadn’t cried or begged when Fig was beating her either.
Why were we moved? Who has us? Thane slid back under the covers to sit, turning his attention to the ceiling to look for signs someone was watching or listening. Nothing obvious to see; no cameras or microphones, unless they were too well-disguised. He glanced at the IV bag, which was two-thirds empty. Someone would have to come and change it, or remove it, soon. When someone did, he’d learn more.
His eyes shot back to the door upon hearing a soft click. The bottom slot’s door was lifted, and a covered tray was pushed through with a metal rod. A second tray followed before the slot was closed and relocked. Thane sniffed and was rewarded with the rich smells of hot food. Beside him, Morgan drew in a deep breath and suddenly moaned.
She opened her eyes. “Is that food?”
He nodded. Better to avoid a headache until absolutely necessary. She nearly smiled, pausing when a portion of the scab on her lip cracked. “Ow. Is it safe to eat?”
That, he didn’t know, and his one-shouldered shrug earned a sigh from her. “How do we find out?”
He tapped his chest and pointed to his mouth then spread his thumb and forefinger to indicate “small.” Morgan nodded. “You’re going to test it.”
With a smile, he patted her arm. Directly after, Thane reached for her hand to show her the attached IV line. Her eyes widened and brightened, gold sparking in their centers. “What the hell is it?”
Holding up one hand, he smiled. It’s good for you. Don’t worry.
Morgan blinked and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone.”
Pleased by her trust, Thane touched her hair again and left the bed to collect the trays. By the time he returned, she’d sat up and shoved her pillow into place behind her, against the wall. Her finger was in her mouth. Morgan pulled it out. “We can regrow teeth?”
Her obvious amazement reminded him how new she was to being a Were. The were-liger smiled, holding out one of the trays. She took it and settled it across her legs before lifting the lid. “Well, it smells better than it looks. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, milk, and I think that’s tapioca for dessert. I hate tapioca.”
Thane checked his tray to find identical offerings. The utensils were plastic spoons, less useful as weapons than fangs and claws. He tested a bite of each item from her tray first, waiting several minutes between each to see if anything happened. Poison wouldn’t kill them, but, like physical trauma, would cause damage that would need time to heal.
Nothing happened, so he nodded for her to begin eating and walked around the bed to sit before testing his own food. Morgan ate slowly, her eyes darting around the cell. Her forehead furrowed in thought. “Last thing I remember is you breaking that son of a bitch’s neck. What happened after I passed out?”
He directed her attention to the pink spot on his chest and mimed a gun. “They shot you?”
With a nod, he began eating. They’d need all the energy they could generate, and food was fuel. But he kept watch on her face, thinking over the events since they’d last left headquarters. There hadn’t been much of a chance before now.
She didn’t leave because of me. She didn’t leave me behind, and she could’ve—probably would’ve had a better chance to escape on her own. Thane wished he could tell her how he felt about her actions, but that would have to wait until they were somewhere safe. The goal now was to stay alert and try to avoid unnecessary injury, in order to have the best chances if an opportunity to escape presented itself.
He wasn’t an idiot, and knew her behavior after her attack on Cal had been the result of playing nice until she could figure out a way to leave. But he’d been certain she’d changed her mind before their first night together, and now, there was solid proof she had. The were-liger had taken a chance that he was right, that she wouldn’t run at the first opportunity, when she’d left Cal’s suite the night all this trouble had begun. Morgan had fulfilled his trust in her.
Exactly how many days had passed since then? Thane didn’t know, with the few facts he had at hand. But surely Cal was searching for them by now, even if the First might’ve initially thought Morgan had kidnapped him. Enough time had to have passed for it to be clear that wasn’t what had happened, because Cal knew Thane wouldn’t leave him hanging and worried.
“They had to have found the wreck,” Morgan said, echoing his thoughts while poking at the lump of tapioca with her spoon. “I’m not eating this. Do you want it?”
He’d rather she ate it, but nodded. The texture was abhorrent to him, but food was food. She scraped the lump off her tray, on top of his tapioca. “All yours.”
Morgan looked up at the IV bag. “Someone will have to come check that, right?” He nodded. “Think they’ll bring us some clothes?”
That, he didn’t know. Clothing made people feel less vulnerable. Whoever had them could want the psychological advantage leaving them nude would give. She correctly interpreted his one-shouldered shrug and sighed. “Well, we can tear the sheet and make togas.”
Quickly swallowing a mouthful of tapioca, Thane leaned and gently kissed her cheek. Morgan nearly smiled, but remembered the condition of her lips in time. “You know, there’s this thing called sign language. We should both learn it so I don’t have to constantly ask you yes-or-no questions.”
He put down his spoon and signed I already know it.
Her eyes narrowed. “Smart ass.”
With a smile, Thane picked up his spoon and finished eating.
“Getting really tired of being a day late and dollar shor
t,” Cal said, liberally flashing his frown around the room. “Now, which one is Riscorato?”
“The juicy one.” Laney’s head was lowered and slightly tilted, her eyes focused on the pudgy figure kneeling in the middle of the men they’d captured. Weres liked to work in pairs; she and he were the bad cops this time, leaving Jerome and Lucas to play the good cops. Cal knew she enjoyed the chance to be the bad guy from time to time—and he rather enjoyed when she played the part too. Laney suddenly snapped her teeth, showing fangs. “Can I start with his fingers?”
“Hold up. Let’s give the gentleman a chance to talk first.” Jerome slipped between Riscorato and her, blocking the sweating man’s view. “Look, man, this bitch,” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Laney, “be crazy. You don’t even want to know the things I’ve seen her do, and the big guy? He’s worse.”
“I talk and you kill us all anyway. I know how it works.” Riscorato sneered, but a tremor in his voice indicated it was all bravado.
He was also wrong. They didn’t kill humans unless absolutely necessary. Cal would turn the captives over to the FBI, after he’d gotten the information he wanted. That was how things worked between WatchWeres Inc. and most governments: catch human criminals, turn them over to human law. They’d already found enough drugs stashed away to guarantee Riscorato would be spending the rest of his life in prison.
But their captives didn’t know that. He growled, shoving past Jerome to look down at Riscorato. “You’re right, but talking will make the difference in how fast or slow you die.”
“They ain’t here,” one of the other men said.
“Shut up, Tommy,” another muttered.
“You saw what they did to Fig, even chained up. If I gotta go, it ain’t going to be the slow and scenic route.” Tommy, a bulky forty-something with more hair poking out from the V of his shirt than on his head, looked at Cal. “I’ll talk.”
Laney snarled behind Cal, and he fought the urge to turn around as the captives collectively flinched backward. She was good at halting her change, good enough to almost be mistaken for the classic movie werewolf. He could only imagine what her face looked like at the moment, but knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. “Then start talking.”
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