Whisper in the Dark

by Charlene Perry

  Whisper in the Dark

  Charlene Perry

  Copyright © 2020 by Charlene Perry

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Charlene Perry

  Published April 10, 2020

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Charlene Perry

  The Wings Trilogy:

  Wings of Fate

  Wings of Change

  Wings of Peace

  Wings of Fate: The Complete Trilogy

  The Shifters Series:

  Whisper in the Dark

  Hope in the Moonlight (Coming 2020!)

  Contents

  1. Whisper

  2. Gideon

  3. Home

  4. Hunt

  5. Job Offer

  6. Not a Date

  7. Betrayal

  8. Damon

  9. Solar One

  10. Easy Target

  11. Wings

  12. Understanding

  13. Motives

  14. Rescue

  15. Promotion

  16. New Home

  17. Same Shit

  18. Broken

  19. Choices

  20. Purpose

  21. Lost and Found

  22. Training

  23. The Meadow

  24. Presumed Dead

  25. Commander

  26. Search

  27. Tobias

  28. Dragon

  29. Can’t

  30. Goodbye

  31. Gliese

  32. Pharaoh

  33. Far From Home

  34. Only Yours

  Thank You!

  Also by Charlene Perry

  About the Author

  Whisper

  Some days, I love my job.

  I take a deep, appreciative inhale of deliciously masculine cologne. It’s a little stronger than I prefer, but distinctly male in that woodsy sort of way. Tousled, dirty-blond hair falls into dark eyes. His body is firm, smooth... tattooed. There may have been more than one reason why I waited until he was changing to make my move.

  His heart is pounding against my chest as I pin him against the wall. He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, and I can’t resist swaying my hips just a little. His eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches almost into a grin.

  Maybe he’s doubting my intentions. Maybe he thinks the knife against his neck is just foreplay. I may have given him the wrong impression when I slipped into his bedroom wearing a red, lace teddy…

  Nah, he knows I’m serious.

  I think the second knife pressing into his abdomen gives it away.

  Maybe I’m a teensy bit cruel for dragging this out and letting him think he has a chance. I do love a good fantasy, and imagining he isn’t my current mark gives my overactive imagination plenty of room to play.

  “What a waste.” I sigh as I let my lips almost brush his. I put all my weight behind the six inches of steel that slides gracefully across his beautiful neck.

  What a waste indeed.

  I ignore the buzz-killing final sounds of his death as I slip my knives back into their sheaths at my back and pull out my comm for a quick scan. Proof of kill and my ticket to a pretty sweet payday.

  I stride back out the way I came, past the other two corpses that never got the pleasure of seeing me coming. Just before emerging out of the concrete bunker, I swap out the sexy lingerie for my standard issue tactical gear. Definitely more my style.

  That took a while. Damon’s voice comes into my head as I shield my eyes from the glaring, early morning sun. The accusation is thick in his tone, but I just laugh. He knows I like to play with them.

  “Like a cat with a mouse.”

  I earn a thick growl for using his least favorite analogy.

  He’s still standing guard, keeping his eyes on the surrounding forest and his paw on my discarded pistol. I walk up beside him and put the weapon back in its holster on my hip, then lean against his shoulder, running my fingers through his lush, velvety fur.

  “We’re good,” I assure him. “The intel was accurate. Mark thought he was home free and only had two guards to watch his back. Just another cocky dealer.” And what a cock it was.

  You could have waited for him to come outside. His voice is smooth and deep through our Link implants.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  My moody panther Shifter never enjoys the kill missions as much as I do. He’s a deadly and efficient assassin when the job requires it, but he’s never happy when I take what he considers an unnecessary risk. Sure, I could have waited in the trees for the mark to come outside. That could have taken days. Besides, one look at his file and I knew I wanted a close-up introduction.

  There’s no harm in having a little fun on the job, right?

  Damon tenses under my hand at the same moment I hear the slightest noise behind us. I pivot on my heels, my pistol levelling with the terrified face of a young woman. I don’t know what she’s more scared of, my weapon or the two-hundred-fifty-pound snarling panther at my side.

  I’m guessing the panther.

  It’s immediately obvious that she’s no threat. I motion for Damon to stand down, but I keep my weapon aimed. The intel said nothing about a girl travelling with them. But it did specify to leave no witnesses. This particular drug-trafficking organization doesn’t know the Protectors are on to them yet.

  “Who are you?”

  “I... I’m nothing.” She drops her gaze, and I notice that her hair is tangled. Not like morning-after-sex tangled, more like she hasn’t had a brush in days. Her face is gaunt, even for her slim form. Her neck is bare, no tats signifying implant tech, though she does have fresh ink on her wrist. She’s wearing a gauzy slip of a dress that’s seen better days.

  “Do you need help?” I lower my pistol to her torso.

  She peers up at me through thick lashes, her dark eyes searching mine for some clue she can trust me. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Whisper. I’m an Agent with the Protectors.”

  Her eyes grow larger, making her look even younger than I first suspected. Hell, this girl can’t be older than 16.

  “But, you’re a woman.” She states the fact as if it might just come as a surprise to me.

  “Yes, I am.” I put my weapon back into its holster at my hip, and the little shit takes the opening to bolt.

  Damon digs his claws in, ready and willing to chase her down.

  “Don’t.”

  I flip a small switch on my pistol, take aim, and drop her like a deer. She can take a little nap on the way back to Moridian.

  It’s just shortly after 8 a.m. when we arrive at Base. The Headquarters of the United Army of Terran Protectors: Ground Division. Also known as ‘Base’, because nobody wants to spit out that mouthful more than once.

  I keep my chin up and my eyes down as we cross the glossy, white tile of the lobby. After a sleepless night on the job, I’m not in the mood for dealing with the stares and whispers. If I see even one person looking at me with that ‘what is a girl doing dressed up like an Agent?’ expression on their face, I might tell my panther to eat them. Not that he would. But sometimes I like to imagine that he would.

  I don’t look like much of a threat with my feminine curves on a five-five, one-hundred-twenty-pound frame. But at least my Shifter looks like he could fuck you up. In reality, I’m the one who might just break your face for being a pain i
n the ass. He’s just a big pussy. Pun intended.

  I give the receptionist brief instructions about the girl sleeping off her sedative in my back seat. The security gate beeps as I register my comm, and I hold my breath until the elevator doors close behind us. Now that we’re out of the public section of the sprawling, twenty-five story building, I don’t have to guard my reactions quite so carefully. Anyone who questions me on this side of the curtain will find out exactly why I have the clearance to be here.

  Damon pushes his big head against my side, and I absently run my hand over his head and shoulders. I trace the silvery scar that mars the soft fur of his neck and right shoulder. It’s one of many that remind me of the fact that his life began in a shit hole just as dark as my own.

  Once the doors open on the twenty-second floor, it’s a short walk to the Commander’s private office. A quick knock, and I let myself in.

  “Hey, Whisp, you’re up early this morning.” Jeffries greets me with a smile, then turns back to the pile of papers he’s pushing around on his desk. I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t care as long as some of those papers mean I’ve got another payday on the way.

  I slide my comm across his desk, earning a frown of annoyance when I mess up whatever organizational method he’s got going on. It quickly dissolves into a smile when he realizes what I’m hinting at. He grabs the small device and docks it into his console, reviewing the upload as he nods in approval.

  “That job was supposed to take you a week.” He shakes his head, passing my comm back across the desk. “How’d you get to him so fast?”

  “Guess I just have bigger balls than your other Agents, Charles.” He shouldn’t be surprised, after four years of being my Commander.

  He just shakes his head again, digging through some of those papers as I hold my breath and hope that he has another job ready for me. If it weren’t for Commander Charles Jeffries, I wouldn’t be a Protector. I certainly wouldn’t be an Agent.

  He took me under his wing the moment I showed up at the Academy. No one else would have taken a girl seriously, but he knew my family. He had worked with my father, back when they were both low-level Enforcers. He had gotten a glimpse of the hellhole we called a home, and the assholes that called themselves my brothers. He knew what I had endured. What I had survived. He knew I’d be a real asset to the program, even if everyone else only saw my more superficial assets.

  Not that I’m against using those for my own gain, when the situation calls for it.

  He got me in the door, but I earned the right to stay. By the end of the two-year program, I graduated at the top of my class. They started me off as an Enforcer, but it didn’t take me long to bring in a mark worthy of the Agents. Charles helped me with the red tape, and the rest is history.

  “I’ve got nothing lined up for you yet.”

  That’s definitely not what I want to hear.

  “Are you sure? Not even a little one? I’m okay with a side errand if there’s nothing big-”

  “I’ve got nothing, Whisp, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. What are you saving up for now? You got your little fashion implant already, didn’t you?”

  “It’s a Local Matter Wardrobe, thank you very much. And it has nothing to do with fashion.” I cross my arms, feigning insult. “It’s a weapon, if you must know.”

  He looks at me with one eyebrow raised. “I don’t think the ability to change your outfit instantaneously counts as a weapon.”

  “It does on this body.” I hair flip for effect. Not because I’m the hair-flipping type, just because I enjoy seeing the exasperation on his face. He has his doubts that I’m being serious, but he didn’t see the stun-gun effect that little getup had on this morning’s mark. I could have been carrying a rifle and the guy wouldn’t have even noticed.

  I saved for a long time for that implant, for more than one reason. Mostly, being able to upload any outfit I want and use surrounding matter to manufacture it instantly is just awesome. Goodbye dirty clothes... hello instant outfit. The time it’s saved me in laundry alone is well worth the price.

  I slide my hand across the side of my neck, over the faint ridges of three small tattoos. Every implant comes with a tat; a small symbol that let’s others know what upgrades you’re working with. The top one is my Medic implant, which is given to all Academy grads. It means I can heal crazy fast, which comes in handy often enough in this line of work. The second is my Link implant, which is directly connected to Damon’s. We got those when we were matched, after I was promoted to Agent. The third is my new LMW.

  “Well, whatever you’re saving for, I’ve still got nothing. I’ll reach out as soon as I do. Sound good?”

  “Yeah, thanks Charles.”

  He just shakes his head as we vacate his office and leave him to his paperwork.

  Let’s go home for some real food, I suggest to Damon, and he picks up his pace with an agreeable purr.

  Gideon

  Back in the lobby, I resume my eyes-down got-somewhere-important-to-be pace. I’m out the doors and nearly home free before I’m stopped in my tracks by a vice-like grip on my arm. Damon growls as I grit my teeth and look up into cold, blue eyes.

  “Hello, little Whisper.” Agent Nutsack leans down so only I can hear him, using his free hand to tuck a loose strand of brown hair behind my ear. Yes, I nickname all my coworkers with genitalia references. Who doesn’t? “How would you like to come by my place later? I’ve got a little energy to burn, and you look like you know how to take it. I bet I could have you screaming my name in under ten minutes.”

  Okay. Now I’m imagining myself screaming Agent Nutsack while in the throes of the orgasmic bliss he’s supposedly able to deliver. I’m struggling to keep a straight face, which probably just makes it appear like I’m considering his offer. Not that I would ever consider playing around with an Agent, no matter how maddeningly sexy some of them are, or how many propositions I get. They either want the conquest, want to prove they can handle me, or just want me to let my guard down.

  I’m a threat to all of them just by being here. Just by being female. Not to mention the fact that my win rate is top three right about now. I challenge their world, or at least the way they see their world.

  Women can’t be Protectors. It’s not that we aren’t allowed to be, no, it’s less obvious than that. No woman makes it through the Academy. It’s just never happened.

  Until me, that is.

  I have a superpower. It’s not my combat skills or my intelligence, though both of those are highly impressive, if I’m being honest. It’s my ability to take a beating. My brothers thought they were making sure I never amounted to anything; that I would never make it out from under their heels. But they taught me a valuable skill, and it gave me the edge I needed to make it through the Academy.

  It’s not that I roll over and take it. Not by a long shot. But since I was cursed with this small body, it’s just inevitable that I’m going to lose when it comes down to brute strength. In the Academy, I lost often. I fucked a few of them up, for sure, but they learned to come at me in groups.

  I knew when I had lost; when to stop fighting back. I would go to that quiet place deep inside, never giving them the satisfaction of hearing me beg, or scream, or cry. A trip to the medic for some overnight healing, and I was back in the game the next day.

  I was never raped. No fucking way. Even before I knew how to fight, I knew that you kick a man in the nuts the moment he says ‘hello’. As soon as I saw where a fight was headed, I took out his weapon of choice. Rape might have been less painful than the bruises and broken bones, but the medic can heal a body, not a soul.

  “Well, what do you say, little Whisper?”

  Just say the word. Damon’s voice is punctuated by his feral growling. I know he’d do it, if I needed him to. He’d take out an Agent to save me, even knowing it would mean his execution.

  I don’t need to be saved. I just need to use my superpower. I stand perfectly still, not pul
ling away and not engaging. You can’t chase someone who doesn’t run.

  I could say something that would put him in his place. Hell, with him this close I could have him on his back on the concrete before his next breath, but it would only draw more attention. I might be a little worried if it weren’t for the fact that we’re doing this little dance directly outside Base.

  Nutsack, also known as Agent Daniel Thomas, has been pulling this shit since the Academy, and never once has he summoned the balls to try it without witnesses.

  I can hear the snarling of the tawny wolf he’s paired with. Damon could take him easily, I’m sure of it. Doesn’t matter though. It won’t come to that.

  “Is there a problem here, Agent Thomas?” A deep, unfamiliar voice cuts through the heavy silence.

  The painful grip on my arm releases, and I resist the urge to rub the soreness away. The discomfort won’t last long thanks to my Medic implant.

  “No, Sir,” Agent Nutsack replies immediately, clearly deferring to a superior.

  I don’t bother to look up. I don’t really care who it is, and I sure as hell don’t want them to think I required them to save me. I start walking, counting the steps until I can get into my truck and out of here.

  “Agent Whisper,” the voice calls after me.

  I stop in my tracks at the use of my actual title. It’s not often someone bothers to have the respect of adding the Agent to my name. Against my better judgement, I turn to see the person attached to the voice.