Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  “I am . . .” He trailed off, cleared his throat, and then said more lightly, “I am merely disappointed that you might leave before I do. However, there’s possibly a penalty if you leave the company without giving proper notice, isn’t there?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but maybe it’s worth the penalty.”

  “You don’t have a job lined up elsewhere yet. And, you will need an open letter of referral. I rather doubt that Mrs. Pope will be inclined to be so generous if you attempt to give her anything less than proper notice. She’s quite fond of procedure and protocol, is she not?”

  I gave a little sigh and nodded. “Quite would be an understatement.” I hesitated before finally asking, “Are you certain that staying another two weeks won’t endanger the firm? I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have, you know. It’s not fair to the firm or to you if my staying too long causes more trouble.”

  “You don’t know that the incidents were tied to you,” he interjected. “And, remember what I said about breaking your routine? If you abandon your job without giving full notice, it will only draw suspicion. The best way for you to leave without catching anyone’s attention will be by following protocol and acting as relaxed as possible. I’ll stick around at least another two weeks as it is so I can keep an eye out.”

  “Thank you and I suppose you’re right.”

  Mathias offered a crooked smile in response. “I have my moments, thank you.” He stood up and then held his hand out to me. “Come on. I better get you home before it gets much later. Take the leftover pizza too.”

  “Won’t you need food too? I saw your ‘cupboards,’” I added with my best imitation of his accent.

  “We could split it if that will appease you.”

  I nodded and Mathias quickly divvied up the remaining slices. I accepted the baggie of slices and then we walked out of his apartment. Glancing up at him as we went, I wished I knew how to put all the feelings he had stirred up back into a box. It would be so difficult to tell him goodbye tonight. Just because I was going to stay another two weeks, it didn’t mean that we could stay close. We shouldn’t stay close. It would only make it hurt more when I left, and right now it felt as though my heart would break when I left Olympia and Mathias behind.

  * * *

  Mathias

  It was taking everything in me not to clasp Lauren’s hand again as we walked down the hall toward her apartment. I didn’t want to end the evening. Not yet at least. Not until I had Lauren’s promise that she wouldn’t vanish into the night. But that was a foolish thing to ask or to seek. Especially since I shouldn’t, no, couldn’t make any promises. It was too dangerous to offer promises.

  It would be incredibly foolish to imagine that any offer made to Lauren would end in something over than a binding promise. I couldn’t do that to her. She didn’t know what I truly was and it needed to stay that way. As much as the thought made me ache, I needed to let her go.

  We stopped in front of her door, but Lauren didn’t get her keys out. Instead, she looked up at me, her dark eyes filled with such warmth that I could almost forget the icy instincts inside me and a hint of longing swayed me closer to her. Lauren’s breath caught as I bent toward her. But her chin came up. I stopped just shy of her lips. I could feel her breaths against my skin and the urge to kiss her swept over me once more, but I forced myself to be still.

  Instead, I whispered, “Good night, Lauren.”

  Before I could straighten, however, Lauren suddenly rose her toes. Her lips brushed over mine forming a sweet but far too brief caress before she eased back. Her dark eyes were shining as she breathed, “Thank you for dinner, Mathias. Good night.”

  I stood there unable to move as she unlocked her door and slipped into her flat. The door shut, leaving me in the hall, feeling as though I had been struck in the chest by some unseen opponent.

  My hand rose of its own accord, and I nearly knocked on the door. But I caught myself. It took far more effort than it should have in order to force my steps away from Lauren’s door. By the time I reached my car, I was reciting the litany of reasons why I could never be involved with anyone. It was too dangerous. Being involved with me would only bring harm to Lauren. If my enemies didn’t try to kill her for the mere assumption of being involved with me, then . . . my own species’ demands could prove deadly. It was why there had never been many marriages outside of our own kind. The elders and traditions demanded too much. And, it would paint an even larger target on Lauren’s back.

  My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I drove. No. I could never make Lauren an offer. She would likely refuse as it was, but it would only condemn her to make an offer. And, that was something I would not do.

  I had two weeks to come up with a plan. Not only for seeing Lauren out of Olympia safely, but also for my own future. Lauren’s quiet words about Weard, questioning why I continued to stay with them, stuck with me. Even when I arrived at my flat, they stuck with me. Again and again her voice whispered in my head questioning why I stayed with those who were rapidly turning corrupt. My excuse that it was all I knew had felt weak when I voiced it, and now it seemed hollowed and cracked. Lauren . . . She was right. What I had been tolerating from Weard was something that I should have questioned before now. I had been too lost in my own missions to pay attention to the changes brewing at headquarters, and I hadn’t stayed in touch with Royal or with Saul. I should have known as soon as the new management appeared, instead of Saul, that something was off at headquarters. And now . . .

  Now there was no doubt that Weard Enterprises had changed and not for the better. There was probably far more truth to the rumors Lauren mentioned than I wanted to admit. I hadn’t joined Weard to become a mercenary, but the last few missions before coming to Halliman’s had been . . . very near to it. No, I didn’t think I wanted to stay with Weard any longer. In all likelihood, I had stayed too long already.

  The thought followed me as I strode into the bedroom and unbuttoned my shirt. Yanking it off, I turned to the windows and opened them to look out. I hadn’t turned on the lights, so no one below should have been able to see me. I scanned the lot below, searching for any cars that didn’t belong, as my mind continued turning over the idea. If I left Weard . . . It would be risky to break from the company, especially now. I would have to go underground, no doubt, as a precaution against any immediate backlash from people like Reubens and Management. But, retirement sounded far more appealing than it ever had before if Lauren . . .

  I wouldn’t leave before Lauren did. I would wait for the results on the notebook. If there was a credible threat to Halliman’s outside of Weard’s attempts to flush Lauren out of hiding, then I wanted to address it. If I could prove the threat was false, so much the better.

  I took off my socks and shoes, then walked into the bathroom. As I turned the shower on, I considered going to the firm early. Maybe if I watched the surveillance footage again for the room where the notebook had been found, I would find whoever dropped it. The one thing I knew was that if I wanted to break away from Weard, I could not return to Chicago. There was the slight difficulty that Management had committed my skills to another job already but since I made no such commitment on my own, perhaps Weard would ignore it when I chose to refuse the mission. The easiest way to do so being my refusal to go to the next drop point or to respond to any calls.

  By the time I finished showering, I had determined my course of action. After dressing for bed, I pulled out my go bag and set to work filling it. Lauren still occupied my thoughts. Perhaps, I should approach Lauren about going with me when I left. She didn’t have a set destination in mind yet, and she had been resistive because of my connection to Weard. Going together would keep her out of Weard’s crosshairs since I knew how to avoid hunters. I trained a lot of the new ones, I could avoid them. And, Weard wouldn’t be looking for us together for at least a little while. Long enough for me to get us safely underground and off their radar.

  The memory of Lau
ren’s dark eyes shining with trust and warmth and a promise . . . a promise for more filled my mind’s eye. I closed my eyes as a long sigh escaped me. No. I couldn’t leave without at least asking Lauren to come with me. Maybe it was foolish, but I knew I couldn’t rest easy if I left without knowing she had been able to get safely away from Weard’s net. We wouldn’t stay together, of course. It would only last long enough for me to figure out why Weard was targeting Spotters and letting Reubens try to flush them out with propaganda. What were they trying to do? And, why were they doing it now? I didn’t know. I didn’t know enough about the situation to even guess. But until I knew, I wanted Lauren close. Where I could protect her. The closet stood as barren as the rest of the flat by the time I finished packing everything except for my clothes for tomorrow. It would be easier to live out of the bag than to risk being unprepared.

  When I went to bed, it was with the knowledge that I would do all I could to keep Lauren Hope safe. Despite the risk I was taking in doing so. As sleep claimed me, so did the memory of Lauren’s lips against mine. It would be so very easy to feel for her what I should not, so very easy to fall for the Spotter. I tried to ignore the feelings she stirred but, with the memory of her kiss so poignant in its brief sweetness, that proved impossible. My dreams were haunted by the woman I could not dare to make my own.

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  Mathias

  The sound of the tea kettle’s whistle pulled my mind from revisiting last night’s encounter with Lauren and that blasted kiss that still lurked in my brain. Why was it so difficult to put her from my mind? I shook myself forcing my mind away from the kiss. That wasn’t what was important right now.

  As I moved the kettle to the side and prepared the earl grey, I couldn’t help remembering what Lauren had said about turning in her resignation today. It gave me two weeks to plan the best place to run from Olympia in order to disappear from Weard’s attention. They still didn’t have proof confirming their suspicions that Lauren was truly a Spotter and since I hadn’t permitted the information to slip, there was no reason to believe that they wouldn’t lose interest once Lauren vanished.

  I finished pouring my tea and then took a sip. Hot as it should be. The shrill ring of a phone shattered the morning calm. I set my tea down with a sigh and went to find the burner. The ringing remained persistent as I walked from the kitchen into the bedroom. The burner I used for my official contacts at Weard was resting on the nightstand. “Mathias.”

  “The fingerprint analysis results are in,” Management’s snide voice filled my ear.

  I frowned as I paced back to the kitchen, picking up my bag as I went, and said, “I would have expected those results to take another two weeks considering they didn’t arrive until Wednesday.”

  “Our new client is growing impatient for your skillset so I took the liberty of rushing the analysis.”

  Setting the bag on the end of the counter, I resisted the urge to snap at Management. I wasn’t going to obey his bidding, but he didn’t need to know that just yet. Keeping my tone measured, I stated, “I see. And, there was a result?”

  “Of course, there was! Why else would I contact you on the matter?”

  “If there were no fingerprints found, it would be a valid result and I would be required to continue my investigation into the threat against Halliman’s firm,” I pointed out coolly. “Of course, you would feel just as compelled to inform me of such results had they occurred.”

  “Of course. But that didn’t happen. A single set of fingerprints were found on your evidence, and they have been identified as an employee of Halliman’s.”

  “Whose prints are they?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.

  “Lauren Hope. She’s a person of interest to the higher ups in the company. Have her detained and questioned. A plane will be arranged for you to bring her to Chicago.”

  I didn’t respond for a long moment. Lauren’s prints on the notebook. Realizing Management was no doubt awaiting a response, I replied with a clipped “I understand.”

  “Good.” There was a click as he hung up, ending the conversation.

  I turned off the burner and then ground it beneath my heel. Picking up the mangled remnants of the phone, I tossed it into the trash. My heart rate slowed as cold filled me. This was not right. This was not just.

  Lauren could not have been involved in this threat. She would not have been involved in it. I knew that woman well enough to know it was not in her nature to do this sort of act. She wouldn’t plan to abandon a place she had begun to consider a home because she cared too much to put others in danger if she were the type to plan a threat.

  It was only fifteen minutes until six, but I didn’t want to waste a single precious minute. With that in mind, I made the decision to sacrifice my tea and committed the painful act of pouring the cup out. The rest I poured into a thermos to take with me. I pulled on my coat, grabbed my bag and thermos, and headed out of the flat. Stowing the bag in the boot of my car took only a few seconds, but I felt them all painfully.

  I couldn’t ring Lauren. I didn’t have her number nor did I have a secure line. As it was, if they had Lauren’s prints in Weard’s database, then it would not be unreasonable to assume that they had tapped her mobile. I drove as fast as I dared in the early morning traffic, the cold lending a sharpness to my movements. Upon pulling into my normal spot in the underground parking, I forced myself to sit still and took several deep breaths. I needed to maintain my control. Now was not the time to be ruled by instinct.

  I wouldn’t be able to help Lauren if I let the cold fury win. She needed me to remain in control and to remain calm. Slowly the cold retreated, and I was able to affect a calm unassuming demeanor that wouldn’t set the entire security division on high alert. Only then did I allow myself to leave the car.

  When the lift reached security’s lobby, the doors opened to reveal Charlie and four other solemn security personnel. I nodded to Charlie. “Has ERT been mobilized?”

  “No, sir. We’ve been instructed to assist in the search of Lauren Hope’s workstation.”

  “Instructed by whom?” I asked quietly as the men filed into the lift with me.

  “Blackwell called it in,” Charlie replied. He darted a sideways glance at me and asked in a low murmur, “Did he not call you?”

  “No.” Blackwell, the executive head of security at Halliman’s had not interacted with me directly the entire time I had been there. The injuries he received in an incident with a violent Harpy-Shifter encounter during a conference last fall had prevented him from returning to his post, and I had discovered enough lapses in security in my first few days at the firm to wonder if that was the only reason he had not returned. I found it . . . suspicious that he reached out to Charlie now. “I received the call from Weard identifying her prints as on the notebook.”

  “Then, she is to be arrested.”

  “We still need more proof before that happens,” I stated coldly.

  The lift doors opened and I hid a frown as I was greeted by the sight of Dagfinn Bergman. The chief warden nodded to me. “Gentlemen, I’m here to assist with the apprehension of the suspect. Unless you want me to send men to her building.”

  “We don’t have enough proof for that yet,” I interjected coolly. “Best to focus on the matter at hand.”

  “She could skip work,” Bergman murmured not quite arguing with me.

  I fixed him with a cold stare. “She won’t skip out. She doesn’t have a reason to do so.”

  Striding past him, I opened the door leading out of the lobby. “After you, gentlemen.”

  As the men filed past me, I could only hope that this would prove a mistake. Lauren could not go to Weard. They would kill her. I hadn’t prayed in a very long time. At this moment, I had never prayed harder. I prayed I would be wrong and that my fears would prove unfounded. Or else it would be very difficult to keep the promise I had made myself to get Lauren out of Olympia and keep her from falling into Weard
’s control.

  * * *

  Lauren

  I hummed along with the radio as I drove to work. Last night had been . . . wonderful. Spending time with Mathias had been worth it. It had also put me in a good enough mood that I had almost forgotten to move my go bag to the car, which was why it was now nestled in the backseat instead of in the trunk. Of course, I still couldn’t quite believe that I had been daring enough to kiss Mathias. It was too early, too soon, and so very foolish to be involved with or even contemplate being involved with a 10.

  But Mathias . . . Mathias was different. I couldn’t stop feeling happy and even a little hopeful. It would be hard to break the news to Sharon that I was leaving the company, of course, but that dread was tempered by the thought of seeing Mathias again. Maybe at lunch. And, I could delay informing Sharon of my resignation until just before end of day. Slightly cowardly, but I didn’t think I wanted to face the questions from the gossip mill between the secretaries until Monday. Maybe, I would ask Mathias about driving to Port Angles tomorrow. Spend the day exploring through the Olympic National Forest as a farewell to the peninsula.

  Mathias’ car was already in the garage, and I pulled in beside it. A quick check of my watch sent me hurrying toward the elevator, heels clicking loud against the cement. No time for the stairs so I stayed the entire agonizing way in the elevator. Beth squeezed in to the elevator, but we weren’t close enough to do more than wave to each other. She beamed at me, though, and I knew she had good news. No doubt, she would be moving up to the exec level sooner rather than later.

  It was with relief that I was finally able to get out of the crowded elevator. My heels sounded loud against the marble floors of the lobby, and I hoped I wasn’t breathing too hard as I breezed into the work area. A familiar long and lean body stood in front of my desk, hands clasped behind his back. Mathias was here. Why was Mathias here?