He might have an hour, maybe two, before the back half of the storm slammed them with even more force. It all depended on how big the eye was and how fast it was moving now that it was over land.
It was time to move.
Kell got to his feet and used the pole to test the land around him, making sure he didn’t wander off solid ground and onto a floton. It wasn’t infallible, and twice, he ended up stepping onto what he thought was solid earth before sinking waist deep. Then the pole became a lever to get himself unstuck.
He froze at the sound of a nearby splash, and crouched low, peering through the grass. It was too big a splash for a fish unless it was a gator gar or catfish, and the alligators would be chilling on the bottom of the bayou until the storm passed.
Not a fish or gator, but something bigger and nastier.
Swimming across the span of bayou toward the dock was Michael Benedict.
Target identified. Game on.
CHAPTER 36
The storm surge had finally dislodged Mori from her cypress knee perch, and she’d had to swim back to the main channel of the bayou. Finally, she struggled onto solid land and scrambled beneath a massive water oak, curling herself between the roots that twisted through the shallow, landlike arteries.
She’d give a lot for clothes right now, or at least one of those electric-blue tarps sitting back in the cabin. But she rested in the shelter of the tree to catch her breath and make a plan.
For the first time in what seemed like hours, Mori thought the water levels had dropped a little — or at least weren’t getting higher. The wind seemed to be dying, and the rain, although it remained heavy, wasn’t hard enough to pelt her skin. At the height of the storm, it had stung like buckshot.
She had to get back to Kell, had to see if he’d regained consciousness, had to make sure the water levels hadn’t flooded the cabin while he was out cold. He’d been lying facedown last time she saw him. It wouldn’t take much to drown.
She had to make sure Michael wouldn’t return to the cabin and finish the job he’d started by biting Kell.
The first step would be to get within eyesight of the cabin. She looked out at the water, which had calmed considerably, and realized she could see farther than even a few minutes ago. The rain was softening.
This must be the storm’s eye, then.
She could move more easily now, and if she could, so could Michael.
Mori stood up and decided to shift. She could move with more stealth on land as her wolf, and she would try to stay on land until she got the cabin within view. Her senses would also be sharper. If Michael were out here, she wanted to surprise him for a change, not the other way around.
The shifts hurt more each time, and drained more energy from her. She’d done it too often, too fast, and it was taking a toll. Once the shift had been completed and her bones and muscles and tendons had reshaped themselves unhappily once more, she moved away from her shelter at the base of the tree.
The air smelled of mud, and fish popped to the surface of their suddenly deeper habitat. Dead fish littered the waters of the bayous after a storm surge, or at least Mori remembered reading that somewhere. The fish couldn’t get enough oxygen with all the influx of storm water.
But the dead and dying fish would feed the gators and the birds, so it all evened out. Too bad Michael couldn’t accidentally ingest a few mercury-riddled catfish. It didn’t take much at all. Actually, one big, whiskered mudcat would do the job.
Mori picked her way along the soggy ground, a paw occasionally sliding through what looked like a solid patch of grass-covered earth and reaching water underneath. Flotons had made her way into the inlet easier, but now that she was walking, they posed a hazard.
Another paw slipped through, and she found her front legs tangled in the mass of grass and underbrush. Her wolf wanted to run, but she forced herself to remain still, then back up the way she’d come. One front paw finally pulled free and then the other.
She had to move even slower, lowering one foot at a time to the ground to test her weight. If it held, then she could attempt the second foot. At this rate, she’d never get back to the cabin. Still, she pushed on. The last shift had exhausted her, and she didn’t know how many she had left in her before her energy failed and she was stuck in whatever form she happened to be in at the time.
She reached the bend in the bayou that would lead her back to the cabin. Mori was about to try and shift one last time, to swim the wide expanse of water to the dock. But then she scented them.
The stronger of the two was Michael, but farther away, she could sense Kell. They were out here somewhere.
Looking around, her sharp eyes assessing any movement, she nosed along the bank. She hadn’t realized before because of the dark last night and the storm this morning, but the land jutted out a bit south of the cabin and offered a shorter swim. Kell would know that.
Michael’s scent was strongest, though. It was a human scent, so he wasn’t in wolf form.
His trail ended at the water’s edge, within sight of the dock, although not at the land’s closest point. She saw him, finally, his head bobbing above the smooth water. He reached the dock, and maybe it was her imagination, but he held on to the dock mooring for a few seconds before hefting himself up.
Maybe he was as freaking tired as she was. She knew he had more injuries, and fatigue would slow his healing. This might be her only chance.
Still, she’d scented Kell on the bank, and it had to be new — the heavy rains would have washed away anything from before the hurricane. She’d keep an eye on the cabin but check on Kell first.
Nose to the ground, she snuffled and inched her way along the bank, careful to stay behind trees and in the taller grasses as much as possible.
She stopped to sniff an aluminum pole with Kell’s scent all over it. He’d used it, and recently. A patch of burlap, too.
At the sound of a splash, she cautiously lifted her head above the line of thick grass and looked toward the cabin. Michael had gone inside, apparently, as there was no sign of him. Then movement in the water caught her eye, and she ran to the waterline.
Kell was swimming to the cabin and had almost reached the dock.
Mori’s wolf opened her mouth to howl, to warn Kell. But then she snapped her jaws shut. She’d also be warning Michael. Kell’s best advantage would be surprise.
She said a prayer of thanks as she lowered herself onto her side and willed her body to shift one final time, hoping the prone position would make it easier. She was thankful Kell was not only alive but strong enough to swim and not injured so badly he couldn’t think. He had to have seen Michael going into the cabin, and he was going after him.
The shift happened even slower than before, and Mori knew she’d reached her absolute limit. She lay on the wet ground, her lungs sucking at the thick, moist air for oxygen, waiting for her muscles to stop screaming at the repeated abuse.
She rolled to her knees and crawled down the slight embankment toward the water. This time, she welcomed the floton when she splashed through it. The longer she could stay camouflaged, the better.
Mori made her way parallel to the bank, staying hidden while Kell hefted himself to the dock. He flexed his left hand as he crouched low and shrugged out of what looked like her backpack. He pulled a long knife from it, along with something else she couldn’t make out, and crept along the dock toward the cabin.
Time to get moving. Once she was slightly behind the cabin, Mori launched herself into the water, swimming with as little splash and noise as she could.
She glided to the edge of the porch, then reached up and used her fingertips to pull herself high enough to peer over the edge. Kell’s feet disappeared through the doorway. At the sound of shouts and a loud crash, she dropped back into the water and swam for the end of the dock as fast as she could, no longer worrying about stealth.
She finally reached the rope ladder and pulled herself onto the dock. The adrenaline pumping through her b
ody like wildfire, she ran the length of the dock and reached the porch as a loud blast sounded from inside the door.
She paused outside, trying to look through the broken parts of the door to see who’d done the shooting.
“Missed the heart, you little shit.” Michael’s voice rasped with anger or pain — Mori couldn’t tell which.
She heard two clicks, and then Kell’s handgun hit the floor.
“Now you can meet me like a man.” Michael came within Mori’s view. His chest was coated in blood. The bullet might have missed his heart, but it could have nicked a lung.
“And there you are.” His gaze landed on Mori, heavy as an anvil. “Just in time to see your lover turn into an obedient little pet. One more bite, and even a bitch like you won’t touch him.”
Mori pushed her way through the door, glancing at Kell. He was breathing heavily, but she didn’t see any blood on him. In his right hand, he clutched the long knife he’d pulled from her backpack. She couldn’t see what was in his left hand, but she doubted, given his injuries, it was any kind of weapon that required much dexterity.
“Michael, it’s not too late to end this and go back to your life, back to your fiancée.” Mori circled the room until she stood facing Kell. Michael couldn’t go after both of them at once, and she wanted him coming for her. Mori doubted she could shift again, but maybe he couldn’t, either.
Kell was staring at her and frowning. She caught his gaze, and he tilted his head slightly toward the door. Did he really think she’d leave him here? But when she glanced toward the door, she saw something barely visible on the shelf above it. It looked like a wooden box. No, it was the handle of the rifle she’d seen in Kell’s duffel back in Houston, when he had ditched his parents’ blue Terminator and set this train in motion.
The only problem was, Mori had never handled a rifle. She’d used a shotgun back at the ranch, however. When they’d go riding, it was a requirement in case of rattlesnakes.
She dipped her head in a slow nod to show him she understood, and sidestepped closer to the door. It wasn’t a very tall door; Michael had had to stoop a little to come through it. She should be able to reach the rifle without standing on anything.
“Planning on running away, Mori? Leaving your little human here to his fate? Probably not a bad idea.”
“Like you’d let me walk away, right?” Mori took another step toward the door. “Because even if you turn Kell hybrid, if I walk away, you lose. So maybe I will walk out on the porch, take a swim. I’m a better swimmer than you, you know? Actually, it’s becoming pretty clear I’m better than you at a lot of things.”
Michael’s attention was riveted to her now, his face an ugly shade of beet red. Kell took the opportunity, running at Michael and burying the long knife hilt deep in Michael’s bloody chest. Michael struck out with a powerful right arm as Kell gritted his teeth and tried to twist the blade of the knife under the rib cage to get at Michael’s black heart.
With a feral sound between a roar and a howl, Michael backhanded Kell, who hit the far wall hard enough to jar a handful of the carved wooden pieces and unframed drawings off a shelf several feet away.
Mori didn’t wait to see whether Kell was OK. She raced the remaining steps to the door and pulled the rifle down, fumbling as she managed to chamber a shot and aim it.
The movement caught Michael’s attention, and he turned to face her, holding his hands out to his sides. Empty hands. “You think you can kill me face-to-face, little girl? With me unarmed? Go ahead, then. I don’t think you have it in you.”
Mori swallowed hard, her fingers shaking as she wrapped her right index finger around the trigger. “I will kill you,” she whispered. “I swear I will.”
Michael laughed and turned away from her to face Kell. “She can’t do it, Sergeant. Sorry. Your only hope just turned out to be what I said she was all along — a spoiled, useless little girl.”
“Not so useless.” Kell’s voice was surprisingly calm and steady. It had to be his training kicking in, because Mori was anything but calm and steady. She tracked Michael’s movement within the rifle’s sight. “You still need her.”
“Don’t go any closer to him.” Even to herself, Mori sounded shrill and scared.
Michael shook his head at her. “Stop pretending to be what you aren’t, Emory. Your only value is as a broodmare, so you might as well accept it. And I’ll have a new employee. I think a man with military ties would be useful, don’t you? One who has to do anything I say?”
He stood only a couple of feet in front of Kell now, and Mori tensed. One more move, and she had to pull the trigger. If he took another step, she might miss and hit Kell instead. Why couldn’t she shoot him?
The moment seemed frozen, until one motion set off everything at once. Michael made another step, and Mori gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening, echoing around the small cabin. Kell shouted something and reached out with his left hand to press it against Michael’s neck.
Michael’s eyes widened, and he stepped back, looking down in confusion. Mori was confused, too. She saw a bullet lodged in the wood an inch or two past Michael’s head. Her shot had gone wide, thrown off by the unfamiliar recoil. Fingers shaking, she managed to chamber another round and aim again.
“You told him?” Michael turned to her, his face a pasty mask of shock. “You betrayed us? With him?”
Michael coughed up a clotted red mass of blood and fell heavily to his knees. With one long, shuddering breath, he collapsed. Mori waited for him to move, to reach out with some new horror, to shift — to breathe. He wasn’t breathing.
She kept the rifled trained on Michael, but he was dead. She still wasn’t sure how. What the hell had happened?
“Holy fuck.” Kell closed his eyes and slid down the wall, letting something clatter from his left hand onto the floor. Nothing but a rusty old piece of metal with a Shell ad painted on it in faded red and gold.
Mori looked closer, leaning down to pick it up. Not just a piece of metal, but half of an old thermometer.
“Oh my God. Mercury.” Mori looked back at Michael, now just a man — a very human looking, very dead man — with the broken glass of a thermometer sticking out of his throat.
She couldn’t quite process that it was over, but her muscles told her the truth of it. She walked to the wall and slumped to the floor next to Kell, staring at the dead king of the Dire Wolves.
“Just tell me one thing.” Kell sounded bone weary, but his eyes were lively pools of blue-green fire when he turned his head to look at her.
She hoped it wasn’t about how they’d explain all this, because she didn’t have a clue. “What is it?”
Kell reached out with his right hand and grasped hers. “Please tell me the new alpha of the Dires isn’t a sociopath.”
EPILOGUE
“Those are two scary women.”
Garret Foley, aka Gadget, sat on the porch of Cote Blanche early on Labor Day morning. On the dock, tossing a dirty yellow tennis ball back and forth while Gator bounded between them, stood Mori and Robin, just a wolf and an eagle enjoying a game of ball with a hound dog.
Kell needed a drink.
“You don’t know the half of it, man.” Nik emerged from the cabin with a glass of whiskey and handed chilled beer bottles to Kell and Gadget. “And by the way, the room service ends here unless you start tipping better.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Kell raised the bottle in salute and took a long drink. “Happy Labor Day.”
Only, it wasn’t happy for all of them. Archer remained in Tennessee and didn’t know when he’d return. Losing Adam had sapped his spirit, and Kell knew firsthand that mourning didn’t operate on a time clock. However long it took, they’d give it to him.
Not that he’d be going on any missions himself for a while.
“When’s the surgery?” Nik watched the drama unfold on the dock as Robin pushed Mori in the water, then dove after her. After a few seconds of whining and pa
cing, Gator jumped in as well.
“Next week. Back in Houston.” He didn’t know when he’d made the decision to have the spinal fusion, but he thought it was sometime between getting his head bashed against the footboard and pulling the back brace out of the trunk. The decision had come long before he got his fingers rebroken and set, before he made sure that Trey and his family were OK and that Michael had merely eavesdropped on them and stolen the boat, and before the colonel had chewed him a new asshole to go along with his previous three or four.
He turned to Nik. “Can you tell me if the surgery’s going to be successful?” At the frown on Nik’s face, he retreated. “Never mind. Not fair of me to ask you that.”
“I’d tell you if I knew, but I’m not getting any visions on that subject.”
“What about me?” Gadget balanced his chair on its back legs, finally setting aside the cell phone that seemed attached to the end of his fingers. “Can you tell when I’m going to find a woman?” He watched Mori and Robin climb out of the water, their clothes dripping. “Maybe one like that?”
Knowing those two, they’d be naked within the hour.
Kell shook his head. “Man, you aren’t ready for one like that.”
“And I can’t see that far into the future,” Nik said. “You know, because it’s so far from happening.”
“Funny.” But Gadget grinned.
Kell’s phone rang from inside the cabin, and Gadget levered himself out of the rocker. “I’ll get it. Probably the colonel wanting to yell some more. My turn to get reamed. You two have had your time in the hot seat.”
Nik watched Robin and Mori sitting at the end of the dock, their legs dangling over the side, Gator sitting between them. “You and Mori staying together?”
Kell glanced at him but couldn’t read his expression. “I figure you already know the answer to that.”
“It’s not going to be easy.”
“I know.” He didn’t know, really. After the colonel had spun some magic, everything had been tied up all nice and tidy. Michael Benedict, the millionaire shipping magnate, had been living a secret life, it seemed. He had masterminded the Zemurray bombing to kill off the business competition, then mysteriously died in a freak boating accident near Lake Charles after Hurricane Geneva made landfall. Nik had arrived in time to dump the body.
Omega Force 01- Storm Force Page 28