Wolf Hunt - Paige Tyler

Thank you for purchasing this eBook. At Sourcebooks we believe one thing:

BOOKS CHANGE LIVES. We would love to invite you to receive exclusive rewards. Sign up now for VIP savings, bonus content, early access to new ideas we're developing, and sneak peeks at our hottest titles!

Happy reading! SIGN UP NOW!

Copyright © 2017 by Paige Tyler Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc. Cover art by Kris Keller Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews— without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book. Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410 (630) 961-3900 Fax: (630) 961-2168 www.sourcebooks.com

Contents

Front Cover Title Page Copyright Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 A Sneak Peek at Her Dark Half Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Acknowledgments About the Author Back Cover

With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband. Without your help and support, I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer. You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant a girl could ask for. Love you!

Prologue Southern Idaho, 2012 “You really think they’re in there?” Jess Parker asked as they knelt in the heavy line of trees that ran the perimeter of the LaRouche farm, scanning the house in front of them with binoculars. U.S. Marshal Remy Boudreaux’s attention was focused on the biggest window along one side of the large ranchstyle home. Lights barely illuminated the interior, but he could see enough to know there hadn’t been any movement since he and Jess had started watching the place fifteen minutes ago. He pulled the binoculars away from his face and grinned at his partner. “I haven’t seen them, darlin’, but my instincts are screaming at me that all three of those scumbags are in there.” Remy normally would never call a fellow marshal darlin’, but considering that he was in love with this particular one, he figured it was okay. Jess grinned back at him because she flat-out adored his

N’Awlins accent, though he could just barely make out her expression in the darkness. Even so, that little smile dazzled him. It was one of the things that had attracted Remy to the tall redhead in the first place, convincing him to throw caution to the wind, blow off every rule in the U.S. Marshal handbook, and get into a romantic relationship with her. “You know I always trust that instinct of yours,” Jess said. “How are we going to handle this?” Remy turned back and scanned the farmhouse where the LaRouche family—Tammy, Jack, and their three kids— lived. From the outside, nothing seemed amiss. Just another summer night in the rolling wheat fields of southern Idaho. But it felt like the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Something was definitely going on in there, and he was damn sure it had to do with the three murderous prison escapees they were looking for. “Let’s move closer, so we can get a better look,” he said softly. Before he could move, Jess reached out and grabbed his shoulder. When he turned to look at her, she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, but there was definitely heat. They’d only been sleeping together for a couple of months, but the passion between them burned with a fire hotter than Remy had ever experienced. “Be careful,” she whispered after she pulled away. “Those three assholes are dangerous. There’s no way in hell they’ll willingly go back to prison.” Then Jess was moving, pulling out her Glock and skulking toward the side of the farmhouse. Remy drew his

own sidearm and followed, watching as her lithe, athletic body moved through the night ahead of him. He hadn’t needed Jess’s reminder that the men they were after were dangerous. He’d read the transcripts from their trials, seen the prison records, talked to the other inmates at Leavenworth who’d had dealings with them. These three men were beyond evil. No one knew how Conrad Neal, Joshua Cobb, and Walter Ramirez had even managed to break out of the Leavenworth federal penitentiary in Kansas. As far as anyone could tell, the men had been in their cells before lights-out, but when the sun came up, all three were gone. Remy’s job wasn’t figuring out how they’d managed to escape, it was tracking down the men and putting them back in prison. Neal was likely the leader of the trio of escaped convicts. His record indicated he had a high IQ and a charismatic personality. Unfortunately for him—and the rest of society —he was also possessive as hell and had an out-of-control temper. He’d beaten three men to death in a bar in Oklahoma simply for smiling at his girlfriend. One of those men had been an off-duty FBI agent, hence Neal’s 118-year term in federal prison. Cobb had been convicted of multiple charges of murder as well, along with rape and arson. The son of a bitch thought he wouldn’t get caught if no one could recognize the woman he’d attacked, so he’d murdered her, then burned down her house, assuming all the evidence would disappear. But the fire he’d started in Oregon had spread across the border into Washington, resulting in the destruction of

dozens of homes and the deaths of three more people, including a firefighter. That had earned him a life sentence in Leavenworth. Ramirez might have been the scariest. A doctor for the Veterans Administration in Arizona, Ramirez had invited male patients over to his house for private treatment sessions and then experimented on them. He was serving a life sentence as well. When Remy and Jess reached the side of the house, he cautiously peeked in the window overlooking the kitchen sink. At first, he didn’t see anything, but then he caught sight of Ramirez sitting in the shadow-shrouded living room, smoking a cigarette and watching TV. There was a teenage boy sitting beside him, tied and gagged, staring at the television. Shit. Remy was right. Again. Everyone else on the task force had thought Remy and Jess were wasting their time running all the way out to Idaho on a crazy hunch. But ever since he could remember, Remy had listened to his gut. So while the rest of the marshals focused on the various friends, pen pals, and visitors the three convicts had been in contact with over the past year, Remy and Jess had been busy tracking down the one person suspiciously absent from Neal’s life since his incarceration—his former girlfriend, Tammy Andrews, or rather Tammy LaRouche, now that she was married. Tammy hadn’t testified in Neal’s defense. In fact, she’d never shown at his trial. She hadn’t visited him in prison,

called him, or even written him any letters. The poor woman had been so traumatized by the whole ordeal in the bar that she’d simply walked away from Neal and never looked back. Some people might consider that a betrayal. According to an inmate Remy had spoken to at Leavenworth, Neal was one of those people. “If someone does him wrong, Neal will remember it for the rest of his life and do whatever it takes to get revenge on that person,” the inmate had said. “He’s one vindictive son of a bitch.” Beside Remy, Jess was on her cell phone with the local PD, requesting backup. He hoped this town had a SWAT team, because they were going to need it. When she hung up, they slowly moved around the outside of the house, hoping to pin down exactly where Neal and Cobb were hiding. They were a few feet from the back door when a woman’s scream cut through the humid night air. A split second later, there was a crashing sound, followed by coarse laughter and another terrified scream. Remy’s gut clenched. Going in on their own was insanity, but he and Jess had no choice. Their backup was at least twenty minutes out. They couldn’t wait. He glanced at Jess, hating the idea of her going in there. If she was simply his partner, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but she was more than that to him. There was no way in hell she’d ever let him go in alone though. “Watch yourself in there, okay?” he whispered.

“You too,” she said softly. Taking a deep breath, Remy led the way to the door, then grabbed the knob and turned it. Once inside, he and Jess quickly moved through the kitchen toward the living room, where he’d seen Ramirez and the boy. The kid was still sitting there, bound and gagged, but there was no sign of Ramirez. Remy gave Jess a nod. As one, they checked the rest of the room and the hallway beyond, covering each other at the same time. Another scream came from the back of the house. Remy immediately headed down the dark hallway toward the sound, Jess at his heels. Charging into a room with three armed fugitives who’d already shown a willingness to kill and as many as four possible hostages was definitely in the category of Bad Ideas. There were so many ways it could go wrong, he couldn’t even count them all. But he didn’t have a choice. When he got to the door at the end of the hallway, he lifted his foot and kicked it in. The only lights on in the large master bedroom were two small bedside lamps, but even in their dim glow, the scene that met his eyes was horrific. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he took everything in, his head trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Jack LaRouche was tied to a big armchair that had fallen over on its side in the corner, his head hanging loosely to the side, blood from his battered and bruised face running down to stain his flannel shirt and the light-colored carpet. Tammy was lying on the bed, shallow slash marks across

her face, her brown eyes filled with horror as she reached her bound hands toward where Cobb stood near the footboard with a girl who couldn’t have been more than ten in his grip. Ramirez was standing casually in the corner near the husband, a sick smile twisting his ugly face, a knife in one hand and an automatic pistol in the other. There was no sign of Neal or the LaRouches’ third child. Muttering a curse, Cobb lunged forward and scooped up a big .357 revolver that Remy hadn’t even seen near the bed. Remy leveled his weapon and started to squeeze the trigger only to freeze as Cobb ducked behind the girl. There wasn’t any way Remy could shoot Cobb, not without hitting the girl. Shit. Remy had half a second to come up with a plan before Cobb and Ramirez started shooting. Knowing Jess would take care of Ramirez, Remy charged Cobb and the girl he was using as a human shield. He felt the first bullet hit him somewhere to the right of his belly button, then another higher up on his chest. He was wearing a lightweight Kevlar vest under his shirt, but the first round hit well below the bottom, going right through his stomach. As painful as that shot felt, it was the one to the chest that worried him more. His preference for increased mobility, which meant he sacrificed protection by wearing the lighter Kevlar, had just bitten him in the ass. The ballistic fibers of the vest had failed to stop the fastmoving .357 round. The pain in his chest hadn’t been the

hammer punch it should have felt like if the damn vest had done its job. Instead, it felt like he’d been stabbed with a hot poker. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Remy leaped at Cobb and the girl. She cried out as Remy slammed into them. They all went down in a tumble of arms and legs, hitting the floor hard. Remy grabbed the barrel of Cobb’s gun and shoved it toward the ceiling. Then, making sure the girl was out of the way, he fired a round point-blank into the fugitive’s head. Remy immediately rolled to the side and came up on his knees, aiming his weapon at the spot where Ramirez had last been standing. At least that’s what he attempted to do. He succeeded for the most part, but his right arm wasn’t very steady and he was moving slower than usual. Thankfully, Ramirez lay on the floor, unmoving. Jess stood beside the convict, staring at Remy in horror. Fighting a sudden wave of dizziness, he looked down and saw the blood covering his stomach. Okay, maybe he was hurt worse than he’d thought. He lifted his head to tell her that he was okay, but the words stuck in his throat. As he watched, blood slowly seeped through her blouse on the upper left side, just above the line of her vest. Oh God, she’d been hit too. And she was bleeding really badly. He was so focused on Jess that he almost didn’t realize Neal was coming out of the bathroom with the LaRouches’ other daughter clamped against his chest. Before Remy could react, the man lifted his gun and shot Jess three times.

Remy swung his weapon on Neal at the same time the girl jabbed her elbow into the man’s gut. Neal lost his grip on her for only a split second as she fought to get away, but it was enough time for Remy to get a shot off. The round wasn’t well aimed—neither Remy’s arm nor his vision was steady enough for that—but it hit Neal in the shoulder, allowing the girl to get away. Remy squeezed the trigger and didn’t stop until his Glock ran out of ammo and Neal lay dead on the floor. Remy dropped his weapon and pushed to his feet, but his legs didn’t seem to be taking requests at the moment, so he had no choice but to crawl over to Jess instead. It was less than ten feet, and yet he was gasping for air by the time he reached her. He ignored the lack of oxygen and the blackness threatening to engulf everything around him, focusing on Jess and her beautiful face. She was bleeding now from more places than he could ever hope to stop, but he tried all the same, pressing one hand to the wound in her chest and the other to a gash in her neck. Then he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “I told you to watch yourself,” he whispered. Unbelievably, her blue eyes fluttered open and stared up into his. “I’m…sorry.” He shook his head, trying not to cry but unable to stop the tears. “Stop it! It’s going to be okay. I know it in my gut, and like you always say, my instincts are never wrong. Never!” Jess smiled at that. A moment later, her eyes closed and she was gone.

Remy closed his eyes too, tears streaming down his face. Even as his heart broke in his chest, the pain in his body slowly began to fade. It wouldn’t be long now. At least he and Jess were leaving this fucked-up world together.

Chapter 1 New Orleans, Louisiana, Present Day Remy didn’t realize how much he’d missed New Orleans, but as he walked down Bourbon Street basking in the ambience of his hometown, he remembered why he loved it so much. To make it even better, he was getting the chance to show it off to the most important people in his life—his pack mates. SWAT officers-slash-werewolves Max Lowry, Jayden Brooks, and Zane Kendrick took in the bright lights, crowds of partying people, a variety of music coming from nightclubs on either side of the street, talented street performers all around them, and the unique combination of scents hanging in the air with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Remy’s mouth twitched. Yeah, New Orleans had that kind of effect on people. Gage Dixon, their boss, pack alpha, and commander of the Dallas SWAT team, had sent the four of them to New Orleans to cross-train with the local tactical unit, the city’s term for their SWAT teams. At the same time, four officers

from NOPD SWAT would take part in a weeklong exercise in Dallas. While Gage and the guy who ran NOPD SWAT had become friends when they worked together in Dallas years ago, they still had to handle the whole thing carefully, both here and in Texas. Cross-training with cops who weren’t werewolves meant hiding their abilities, so Gage had made his expectations extremely clear. “Don’t run too fast, lift anything you shouldn’t be able to, or let your tempers get away from you, and whatever you do, no claws, fangs, or frigging glowing eyes,” Gage had reminded them before they’d left. A year ago, Gage would never have considered letting them do something like this, but he and the Pack had changed a lot since then. Not only were they better at controlling their abilities, but they were also a lot more trusting of the outside world now. Having so many guys find their soul mates recently probably had a lot to do with that. “Is it always this wild here?” Zane asked as a group of attractive women passing by gave them long, lingering looks and dazzling smiles. Remy chuckled. He wondered if Zane knew his British accent was always more noticeable when he was around the opposite sex. Probably. No doubt the former soldier from the British Special Air Service knew it made women go crazy. “Yeah, it’s always like this here,” Remy confirmed. “New Orleans is a city that takes the concept of having a good time to a whole different level.”

There was also a palpable tension in the air tonight that had absolutely nothing to do with the normal wild-party atmosphere of the city—the tropical storm brewing in the Gulf. While his teammates had probably picked up on the nervous energy percolating around them, they most likely didn’t know the cause. But Remy knew from growing up here and living through Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Not that anyone was comparing Tropical Storm Ophelia with Katrina. It was a much smaller, weaker storm than Katrina had ever been, and if the talking heads on the Weather Channel were to be believed, the storm was destined to disintegrate into a tropical depression and do nothing more than drench the Texas coast with a couple inches of rain. That sucked for places like Houston, which had gotten more than its fair share of rain lately, but was a serious blessing for New Orleans. Even with everyone saying Ophelia wasn’t going to be a repeat of Katrina, and that the levees, floodgates, and canals protecting the city would be fine, there was still an underlying current of fear in the city. Some of it was because many of the same people saying Ophelia wasn’t a threat were also the ones who’d said there was almost no chance Katrina would hit the city. People might have forgiven those weather experts, but no one had forgotten. The thing that really had the city walking around on proverbial eggshells at the moment was the fact that Katrina had forced everyone to accept how vulnerable the delta city was to almost any kind of storm. New Orleans was a unique city because it was essentially an island surrounded by large

lakes to the north and east, the Mississippi to the south, and wetlands to the west. Even worse, most of the city was below sea level. In fact, parts of it, like the infamous Lower Ninth Ward, were three or four feet below the water surrounding New Orleans. Despite knowing another big storm could drown the city again, maybe worse than the first time, people chose to stay anyway, making an uneasy peace with all the water surrounding them. So while Ophelia churned slowly through the Gulf trying to figure out where it wanted to go, people went about their business, working, laughing, and having a good time—but they also had their TVs turned to the Weather Channel and the prognosticators trying to predict how strong the storm would become and where it would go. And they made plans just in case. “Where do we go first?” Max asked excitedly. “This place is like one huge, awesome party.” Remy did a double take when he saw the iridescent gold rimming Max’s blue eyes. Damn, the city’s energy was already starting to get to the guy. Not surprising. Max was the youngest guy in SWAT and the newest werewolf in the Pack. He’d gone through his change barely four years ago and was still getting a grip on his inner wolf. Sometimes things slipped out a little. “Max, your eyes are glowing,” Brooks said, nudging him in the shoulder. “Dial it back a bit, dude.” Unlike Max, Brooks was completely in control and probably had been from the day he’d become a werewolf. A former fullback at LSU, he was one of the few members of

the Pack who could do a full shift to his wolf form without breaking stride or even a sweat. Remy had only been able to completely shift once and that was after Gage and Brooks had spent hours talking him through the process. It had been painful as hell and not something he looked forward to ever doing again. Muttering a curse, Max closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. A few moments later, he opened them again. “Better?” Brooks nodded when he saw Max’s eyes were back to their normal color. “Good to go.” “Sorry about that.” Max ran a hand through his perpetually messy, dark hair. “I’m not sure what the hell that was about. That hasn’t happened to me in months.” “Don’t worry about it.” Remy laughed, slapping the other werewolf on the shoulder hard enough to break bones in a normal person. “No one is going to notice glowing eyes on Bourbon Street. Hell, down here, I doubt they’d even care if you sprouted fangs. Gage would go apeshit though, so you’d better not. As far as where we go first, it doesn’t matter. You can’t go wrong down here. Let’s start on the left side of the street and stop anywhere that catches our attention.” “Sounds like we have a plan.” Brooks grinned, his teeth a flash of white against his brown skin. “Let’s have some fun.” Remy let Zane and Max lead the way as the four of them headed down the sidewalk toward the first club, a blues joint that already had a crowd of people moving in and out

of the large, wide-open door. Zane headed to the bar for drinks while Remy and the other guys staked out some standing room space near a support column by the door. Loud blues music and dancing people filled the club in equal measure, creating a rush of memories that brought a smile to Remy’s face. Damn, it had been a long time since he’d been here. He quickly did the math and realized it had been five years since Gage had found him in a club in the French Quarter doing his very best to drink himself to death. He was just tugging on that particular memory, relieved that it didn’t bring him as much pain as it used to, when an unusual and extremely tantalizing scent caught his attention. He whipped his head around to stare at the door, sniffing the air. His nose was okay, certainly nothing special like some of the other werewolves in the Pack. It made him wonder why he was picking up this particular smell so clearly. There were a lot of overwhelming scents down on Bourbon Street. Sweat, booze, perfume, cigarette and cigar smoke, moldy wood, drugs, sex—you name it. All that made it hard to discern anything else around him. This particular scent was different and it demanded his attention. “Hey, you okay?” Brooks asked. Brooks was one of his pack mates blessed with a good nose. Remy turned to the big guy and motioned toward the open door. “Do you smell that?” he asked. Brooks sniffed. “I smell a lot of things. Which one are you talking about?” “That flowery, spicy scent coming from outside.”

Brooks sniffed again. Beside him, Max did the same. A moment later, they both looked at him and shook their heads. “I don’t smell anything like that,” Brooks said. “Is it a trace scent or more concentrated?” Remy breathed deeply through his nose and almost got weak-kneed. What was more, he actually started getting a boner. What the hell? “Yeah,” he managed. “You could say it’s concentrated.” He glanced at Brooks and Max. “You guys are screwing with me, right? You seriously can’t smell that?” “Smell what?” Zane asked as he appeared beside them carrying four plastic cups of beer. Remy ignored him and the beer, which was saying a lot. He really liked beer. But the idea of taking a big gulp right then didn’t interest him at all. He didn’t have a clue what the hell he was smelling, but he damn well knew he needed to find out what it was. He’d go nuts if he didn’t. “I’m going for a walk,” he said. Zane and the other guys followed as he tracked the scent out onto the street. At this time of night, it was closed to vehicles and packed with people. He was big and muscular, so most of the crowd avoided him, which was good, since his mind was too preoccupied to worry about running anyone over. “Hey!” Zane called out. “You want your beer?” “No, you keep it,” he said, too focused on the scent to care. “Sweet,” Zane said as he and the other guys followed.

“More for me.” The scent led Remy on a much longer chase than he thought possible. As strong as it had been in the club, he was sure he’d find the source right outside the doors, but he’d already gone five blocks and the scent was still getting more intense. That was pretty frigging hard to believe. The trail led him into a bar and grill, where the scent was powerful enough to make him think the person had spent some time there, then to a live music club. The scent wasn’t quite as concentrated there, so she probably hadn’t stayed there very long. He could understand why. The music had been loud, and not very good. It wasn’t until he was back out on the street with Max, Brooks, and Zane still in tow that he realized he was following a woman. He tried to tell himself it was insane. He’d smelled thousands of women since becoming a werewolf. Hell, maybe tens of thousands. None of them had ever possessed a spicy, flowery scent this delectable. Not even close. Remy walked faster. What kind of woman could generate a scent so powerful it gave him a hard-on the moment he caught a whiff? The curiosity was killing him. He was vaguely aware of his pack mates talking to each other, but he didn’t pay too much attention to what they were saying. Something about betting on the hair color of the woman he was tracking down. He briefly wondered how they knew it was a woman, since they couldn’t seem to smell her scent, but then decided that was a stupid-ass question. He was Remy Frigging Boudreaux. If he was

putting this much effort into tracking down a scent, anyone who knew him would realize there had to be a woman on the other end of the line. He would have never gone through this much trouble otherwise. Remy wasn’t sure how long he followed the scent, but the next thing he knew, he was walking into a nightclub with a steady dance beat throbbing out of every hole, crack, and pore of the building. In bloodhound mode, he headed straight to the second floor, moving like an arrow shot through the crowded, noisy room until he was standing in the middle of the dance floor full of gyrating bodies. Right there, dancing with her back to him in a group of four other women, was the source of the scent that had dragged him halfway across the French Quarter. This close, her fragrance was damn near overwhelming. If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he probably would have leaned forward and licked the small portion of her neck that was exposed every time her long, black hair swung aside. If she smelled this good, he could only imagine how she tasted. The thought was enough to nearly bring him to his knees. He was trying to figure out the best way to initiate a conversation—tapping her on the shoulder and saying he’d been tracking her scent for blocks might come off as a bit stalkerish—when the woman turned to face him. Maybe she’d sensed him behind her, or perhaps it was because her friends had stopped dancing to stare over her shoulder at him. Either way, when she spun around, Remy swore his heart stopped beating for a second. It was dark on the dance floor and the flashing strobes

were bright enough to practically blind him, but it didn’t matter. The light-brown-skinned beauty would have stood out in any light. Hell, she would have stood out in complete darkness too. He was still taking in the smoking-hot curves, perfect skin, and exotic amber eyes when a realization struck him so hard he almost stumbled backward. He knew her. Not in the biblical sense, though that was obviously one hell of a shame. He’d known her back in high school when she’d been a skinny, awkward teenager who never seemed to look anywhere but at the ground. She was a lot different now—understatement there—and easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Now she possessed a confidence that made it hard to look at anything but her. Even with all the changes, he would have known her anywhere. He hadn’t talked to her since high school graduation, but they’d been friends and probably would have been more if he hadn’t been such a chickenshit back then. “Triana?” Remy didn’t expect her to recognize him. While she’d grown from a girl into a woman, he’d grown from a boy into a werewolf. He looked a lot different than he had in high school. Triana’s eyes widened. “Remy, is that seriously you? I can’t believe you’re here!” Grinning, she threw her arms around him. His went around her automatically, holding her close. He was shocked at how good she felt against him—good as in let’s

go find a room somewhere or a dark corner or, hell, the backseat of the nearest car. At the same time, his mind spun as he tried to understand what the hell was going on. Could he have subconsciously recognized his old friend’s scent? Okay, maybe. But that still didn’t explain why she smelled so good or why her fragrance had pulled him so frigging hard in her direction. He’d never felt anything like it in his life. The animalistic urge he’d had to track her down didn’t fit with any concept of friendship he recognized. And neither did the erection he had going on in his jeans right then. That was definitely not the way people greeted old childhood friends. Crap, if he didn’t do something quick, this was going to get really frigging embarrassing. He pulled away and gave her a smile. “We probably shouldn’t be wasting this music. You want to dance some before we go find a place where we can catch up on old times?”

*** Triana Bellamy didn’t mind when Remy’s big, strong hand glided down her back to tease the curve of her bottom as they danced. Nor did she complain when his muscular, jeanclad thigh occasionally slipped between her legs to press against her in the most delicious way through the little black dress she wore. Instead, she focused on the pounding rhythm of the music and enjoyed being with the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Besides, it wasn’t like Triana wasn’t getting just as

naughty as he was. In fact, she should have probably received an honorary police badge considering the way she’d been frisking his body the whole time. Not that there was a woman on the planet who would blame her for wanting to give Remy a pat down. The guy was seriously built. Triana lived and worked in Houston but was back in town for the week visiting her mother and hanging out with old friends. When those same girlfriends had stopped dancing to stare at something over her shoulder a little while ago, Triana had feared the worst. She’d turned around terrified she’d find some drunk tourist with a facial tattoo and gumbo breath standing there. Instead, it had been the guy she’d crushed on all through high school looking better than any man had a right to. Remy had always been fit and muscular as far back as she could remember, but now it looked like he’d grown four inches and added at least fifty pounds of pure muscle. But even more amazing than the physical changes was the whole animalistic-sex-appeal thing he had going on. He exuded it like a cologne. Then there were his gorgeous hazel eyes. When the colored strobe lights reflected off them at just the right angle, it was like they were actually glowing. It made him seem like some kind of hungry predator. Damn, that gaze of his did all kinds of crazy things to her insides. Truth be told, there had always been something about Remy that did it for her, even before she’d understood what the heck that meant. But now there was something about

him that was impossible to resist. If she knew her friends, they’d been staring at him because they all wanted to jump him. Well, they were all going to have to get in line behind her. As they danced to one song after another, Triana smiled as she remembered what it was like growing up with Remy. They’d been fourteen when their parents had met at her late father’s jazz club on Frenchmen Street. Even though they’d been from drastically different walks of life, they had formed an immediate friendship, and it wasn’t long before they were having dinner at each other’s houses all the time. She and Remy became close too. When they weren’t hanging out doing homework together, they were talking about what they wanted to do when they were older. But even though she’d always had a crush on him, they’d never dated, partly because they had moved in different social circles. He liked sports, while she was into all kinds of science and math activities. However, the bigger issue was that they’d both been afraid getting involved would screw up their friendship. After they’d both gone to college, she’d tried keeping in touch with Remy through her parents, but life had somehow gotten in the way and she’d lost track of him. She’d thought about him a lot since they’d both gone their separate ways though, and there were times when she’d daydreamed about what could have been if they actually had gotten together. Now, as if to prove the world really was a small place, she’d bumped into him after all these years. Her mom— who believed in stuff like that—would probably tell her the

spirits or her guardian angel or the fates had taken a hand in her life and guided Remy to her side. Triana didn’t buy any of that, but if she was lucky enough to run into a man this sinfully hot, she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. Flashing her a grin, Remy spun her around, so her back was to him, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist and pulling her close. They swayed in time to the music, and Triana rested her arms on his, letting her fingers tease the well-muscled biceps left exposed by his snug-fitting T-shirt. She couldn’t tell which was sexier: the way he rubbed up against her bottom, or the way he tilted his head and buried his face in the curve of her neck and breathed deep. Both were arousing, but she finally decided on him nuzzling her neck. It made her think he couldn’t get enough of her. What woman wouldn’t like that? As he twirled her around to face him again, she realized that their friends weren’t on the dance floor anymore. Her girlfriends had been dancing and flirting with his friends outrageously ever since Remy and the other guys had gotten there. Triana looked around, wondering if they’d left without telling her and Remy. “They slipped out onto the balcony a little while ago,” he said, leaning over to put his mouth close to her ear, making her quiver. “You want to head out there?” Triana would have preferred to dance with him for the rest of the night, especially if it involved him wrapping his big arms around her and burying his face in her neck again. But she thought she should probably check on her friends. Besides, she had about a million questions for Remy, and

she wouldn’t be able to ask him on the dance floor. So she held his hand and let him lead her through the crowded club toward the doors. It was definitely nice having someone his size when it came to creating a path. Even though Remy was polite as could be, people naturally got out of his way. Between the music coming from inside and the noise from the street below, it was still rather loud on the balcony, but the fresh air was a welcome relief. She hadn’t realized how hot it had been on the dance floor. Then again, that probably had more to do with whom she’d been dancing with. Triana had no problem finding Remy’s three friends. Even when they were sitting at a table, as they were at that moment, they were easy to pick out of the crowd by their mere presence. Kim, Nora, Whitney, and Deanna, on the other hand, were nowhere to be found. She kept her curiosity at bay as Remy made introductions. “Triana Bellamy, I’d like you to meet my friends and coworkers. Max Lowry,” he said, pointing out a hunky guy with brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, and one of those devious-little-boy smiles that made you think he was always up to something. “The one with the British accent is Zane Kendrick,” Remy added, pointing at a good-looking man with dark hair and eyes the color of chocolate. “He’s not really a stuck-up snob; he just sounds like one,” Remy said in a lower voice, as if he was trying to share a secret. Zane chuckled and leaned forward to shake her hand. “Try to ignore Remy when he speaks. It’s not his strong suit.”

She laughed. Oh yeah, Zane had an accent for sure, and it was sexy as heck. No wonder Kim had taken an immediate liking to him. Those two had been slow dancing for most of the night, even when everyone else had been moving to a much faster beat. Triana worried about that for a second. Kim had recently broken up with her longtime boyfriend and it wasn’t a stretch to say that the girl was still in free fall. It was one of the reasons they’d gone out tonight—to make sure Kim didn’t sit at home and mope. Triana had always trusted her instincts about guys though, and right then, she wasn’t getting a bad vibe from Zane. Besides, she liked to think that Remy wouldn’t hang out with a guy who was a jerk. “And this is Jayden Brooks,” Remy said, drawing her attention to a dark-skinned Adonis with the most amazing blue-gray eyes she’d ever seen. When he stood to shake her hand, she realized he was even bigger than Remy. “Everyone calls me Brooks,” he said in a low, resonating voice she didn’t have any problem hearing over all the noise. “By the way, in case you were wondering, your friends made a run to the ladies’ room. They said they’d be right back.” No doubt to figure out how they’re going to divide you three hunks between them, Triana thought—because Remy was definitely hers. “I’m just taking a shot in the dark here,” Zane said as she and Remy sat, “but I’m guessing you guys know each other.” Triana smiled. “Yeah, we do. We went to high school

together here in New Orleans. I can’t believe we ran into each other.” “Huh.” Zane’s mouth curved. “I never realized Remy went to school. We all just assumed he grew up in the swamps and learned how to read and write from talking with the animals.” Remy snorted. “Funny.” Triana was still laughing at that remark when Kim and her other girlfriends showed up. One look at their freshly applied makeup told Triana they’d disappeared to the ladies’ room to make sure they looked their best for Remy’s friends. Kim claimed the seat beside Zane, while Nora, Whitney, and Deanna gathered around Max and Brooks. A little while later, a waitress came over to take their drink orders. While her friends flirted with the guys, Triana leaned in close to Remy. “Last I heard, you were with the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office,” she said. “Do you still work there?” He shook his head, the neon lights from the streets below reflecting off his eyes and making them look like they were almost glowing. “I was at the JPSO for a while after college, but now I’m on the SWAT team in Dallas. The guys and I are in town for some cross-training with the local PD.” She blinked. The Dallas SWAT team, huh? That would certainly explain why Remy and his friends were all so wellbuilt. Considering how attractive they were, she could only guess the SWAT also went out of their way to hire hunks. Triana sipped the rum punch she’d ordered. “How long

are you going to be in town?” She hoped it wasn’t only a day or two. “A week,” he said with a smile that made her think he could read her mind. “We just got here this morning.” She returned his smile. “As it turns out, I’m in town for the week too.” He lifted a brow. “You don’t live in New Orleans anymore?” She shook her head. “I moved to Houston after college.” She was in the middle of explaining where she worked when Kim scooted her chair over and nudged her shoulder. “Why don’t the two of you get out of here and go catch up?” her friend said in her ear. “It’s too loud to even think in this place.” As much as Triana would have liked to be alone with Remy, she didn’t feel right bailing on her friends. “I promised you a girls’ night out. I can’t take off on you.” Kim laughed. “Don’t be silly. It’s not every day you run into a friend from high school—not one like Remy anyway. Go! And don’t worry. I’m sure Zane can keep my mind off Shawn.” Shawn was Kim’s ex, the jackass who’d dumped her two weeks ago. Triana leaned over and hugged her friend. “Okay, but call me if you change your mind.” Kim nodded, then gave Remy a wave and slid her chair closer to Zane and the others. Triana had to admit, her friend looked comfortable with the Dallas SWAT officer. Kim was smiling more than she had since Triana had gotten back into town.

Triana looked at Remy, who’d been waiting patiently during the conversation. “You ready to get out of here?” He gave her a sexy smile. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 2 Five minutes later, they were walking hand in hand down Bourbon Street, taking in the sights and finally able to talk without having to shout. It felt completely natural holding his hand, like they’d been dating for months. “You were saying you work in the Houston crime lab?” Remy prompted, bringing her back to the conversation they’d been having in the club before Kim had interrupted them. Triana nodded. “Technically, it’s called the Harris County Institute of Forensic Sciences, but that’s such a mouthful that everyone calls it the crime lab. I do trace-evidence analysis there.” It looked like Remy was about to say something, but he had to hesitate as an older couple came dancing down the center of the street wearing nothing but the tiniest of swimsuits. Triana would have liked to say that was uncommon, but it wasn’t. Bourbon Street brought out all kinds. Remy steered her around the half-naked couple, not even

batting an eye. “You went to LSU for chemistry, right? How’d you end up in Houston?” “They have a great intern program, and I got a chance to go there during my senior year. One semester in the lab and I was hooked. It took a little while to get a job there, though. I had to end up going to Alabama to get my master’s in forensic science first, but I’ve been working there for four years now.” She tucked her hair behind her ear with an embarrassed smile. “You probably think it’s nerdy, but I love it.” Remy shook his head. “Nah. I’ve worked with the people from the Dallas ME’s office a couple times, so I understand the hard work that’s involved in your job. I think it’s cool. I’m just surprised your mom let you go to Alabama. I would have never in my life imagined that.” Triana laughed. “Yeah, it was a tough sell convincing her I needed to go there. She finally agreed, but only after I vowed never to attend an Alabama football game. I also had to promise to walk the other way if I ever crossed paths with Nick Saban.” Remy thought that was hilarious, but Triana wasn’t joking. Her mother had never taken kindly to Coach Saban leaving LSU, and then coming back into the college ranks and coaching for rival Alabama was an unforgivable crime. “So you’re in town visiting your mom?” he asked as they passed by a trio of musicians playing jazz on the sidewalk. There was a crowd gathered around listening, and Remy leaned over to toss a five-dollar bill in the hat sitting on the curb, giving a wave to the performers in passing.

“Yeah,” Triana said. “I try to come back and spend time with Mom as often as I can. I don’t like her being by herself so much in that big apartment above the shop now that Dad is gone.” Remy was silent for a while. “I was sorry to hear about your father. Sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral, too. I only heard about it through the grapevine months after the fact.” Triana nodded, having to take a breath before answering. It had been over two years since her father had been murdered, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday. “You don’t need to apologize. Mom was amazing, pulling everything together as fast as she did, but there were a lot of people she couldn’t reach. I wish I could have been more help to her, but I was a complete mess.” Remy stopped and tugged her close, wrapping his arms around her right there in the middle of a throng of passing people. “Hey, you had every right to be a complete mess. You’d just lost your dad. I know how close you two always were.” Triana rested her cheek against Remy’s muscular chest and closed her eyes. The warmth from his body seeped into her, comforting her down to her very soul. She had gotten most of the tears out a while ago, but his touch had a few more leaking out. Remy was right. She’d had a special relationship with her dad. He was so big and gruff that he’d frightened a lot of people. And yeah, he’d been known on more than one occasion to wade into brawls at his club and break them up all by himself, whether the people involved were armed or not. But he’d always been a gentle giant to

her. She missed him like crazy. Triana could have stayed in Remy’s arms just like that for the rest of the night, and reluctantly pulled away with a small smile. If Remy noticed she had to wipe a few tears from her face, he didn’t call her on it. They started walking again, and she squeezed his hand a little tighter now than she had before. They strolled along in comfortable silence for a bit before Remy got around to asking the question most people usually brought up at some point. “Did they ever catch the person who did it?” he asked tentatively, as if he dreaded continuing to talk about the subject. “Or even come up with a motive?” “No. To both questions,” she said with a shake of her head. “At first the police thought it was a robbery gone wrong, since they found him on the floor in the middle of his club, but there was still money in the register behind the bar and in his office. They didn’t even touch his wallet.” “I talked to one of my friends at the JPSO shortly after I got the news,” Remy said softly. “They didn’t want to get into the details, but they implied the attack had been very… violent. Was there any thought that maybe it was personal?” Her dad had been shot multiple times, so yeah, violent was one way to put it. “That’s the current theory, not that it has helped much. Dad came from a rough background before he met Mom. There were probably quite a few people who didn’t like him. The police found a lot of blood at the club that wasn’t Dad’s, too, but they were never able to figure out whose it was.”

Remy looked at her in surprise. “They’re not working on it anymore?” She shook her head. “One of the detectives calls my mom every once in a while and tells her they’re still trying, but I don’t expect much now.” Which was why Triana had been paying a private investigator to look into the case for the past five months on the off chance he could find something to jump-start the investigation. She was tempted to mention it to Remy but decided against it. In her experience, most cops didn’t think much of private detectives, and she really didn’t want to get into an argument with Remy. “Well, for what it’s worth,” he said, “I always liked your father. He loved you and your mother, and he didn’t take crap from anyone.” She laughed, putting thoughts of the PI away for now. “That he didn’t.” “How’s your mom doing?” “She focuses on the business,” Triana said. “The shop is doing as well as ever, maybe even better than it’s done in years. I’m sometimes shocked at how much money people will spend on this voodoo stuff, but it seems to make her and her customers happy, so who am I to say anything about it?” They were about to turn off Bourbon and onto Ursulines Avenue, which would ultimately lead them to her mom’s shop, when they came upon another scene that was unfortunately all too common in New Orleans and displayed the dark side of the city. Paramedics were pushing

a skinny, young girl of about seventeen out of a club on a gurney toward an ambulance parked along a side street. There was an oxygen mask covering the girl’s face, so it was hard to see much in the way of features, but she looked drawn and gaunt, and her skin was unusually pale. “What happened?” Remy softly asked someone in the crowd. Triana didn’t need to hear the answer. She’d seen it often enough here and in Houston to have a pretty good idea. “Drug overdose,” a woman told Remy. “Meth. The stuff going around lately is a lot stronger than some people are used to.” Before she and Remy left, Triana heard three other bystanders talking about how dangerous the new crystal meth that had been flooding the streets lately was. “The stuff used to be cooked up in bathtubs by mom-andpop labs,” Remy said as they continued down the street. “But now the Mexican cartels have gotten involved with large-scale operations selling crap that’s ten times as pure. People don’t recognize the difference and end up overdosing. We’re seeing a lot of people winding up in the hospitals in Dallas from this stuff.” “Houston too,” Triana agreed. “Between this new meth and the recent influx of heroin overdoses, it’s driving a complete shift in how our department is handling drug users. We’re finally doing more to get them into treatment, instead of just tossing them in jail. But sometimes it seems like it’s a losing battle, when there’s so much of the stuff flowing in.”

They walked in silence for a while, the mood somber after what they’d just seen on top of the earlier conversation about her father. This part of the street didn’t have as many lights as where they’d just been, and Triana subconsciously moved closer to Remy. If she’d been alone, she would have quickened her step, but she felt safe with him. “What happened with your parents?” she asked, glancing at him. “They came to Dad’s funeral, but they weren’t together.” “They split up when I was in college.” Remy shrugged. “I don’t know what the problem was. Neither of them would ever talk to me about it. Maybe it was empty-nest syndrome or something like that. They tried to get back together when I was working with the JPSO, but in the end they got divorced and moved to opposite sides of the country. Mom wanted to be closer to her family in New York State and Dad took a job in San Diego. It had gotten pretty nasty by that point, and I made the decision to stay the hell out of it. We still talk on the phone on holidays and birthdays, but I don’t see either of them too much these days.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “So did you move to Dallas and join the SWAT team because you wanted a change of scenery?” He shook his head. “While I was looking for a change of scenery about that time, that’s not when I moved to Dallas. I was a U.S. Marshal for three years after I left the JPSO.” Triana did a double take. “Talk about burying the lead. U.S. Marshals do witness protection stuff, right?” “That’s one of their primary missions, but I mostly hunted

fugitives. Maybe it’s a Cajun thing, but I’ve always been good at tracking people down.” “Okay, that sounds more than dangerous and exactly like something I could see you doing. Why’d you leave the Marshals?” For a moment, something that looked like pain flashed across Remy’s handsome face, but it disappeared too quickly for her to be sure. When he looked at her, there was nothing but hunger in his hazel eyes. “It’s a long, complicated story best told while both of us are in a warm bed, preferably with our naked bodies twined around each other.” Heat pooled between Triana’s thighs at the casual remark. While they’d gotten a little naughty dancing, this was the first time he’d given her any indication he hoped they’d end up in bed just as much as she did. The image made her whole body hum with anticipation. That was what happened when you finally got another shot at a guy you should have made a move on over a decade earlier. She gave him a sexy smile. “That might be arranged.” It wasn’t until they were another two blocks down the street that Triana realized Remy had smoothly avoided answering her question about why he’d left the Marshals. She would have brought up the subject again, but she suspected he’d only sidestep it. Something told her he didn’t want to talk about why he’d made the career change. So instead, they chatted about lighter topics such as the TV shows they watched, foods they liked, and places they’d

visited since graduating from high school. Triana was having so much fun, she was disappointed when they finally reached her mother’s voodoo shop and the apartment over it. Even though it was after two in the morning, she didn’t want the evening to end yet. “The shop hasn’t changed much, but do you want to come in and look around anyway?” she asked hopefully. He grinned. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Triana unlocked the door, then closed and locked it behind them quietly, so she wouldn’t wake her mom. When she turned back around, Remy was already walking around the dimly lit shop, taking in the shelves upon shelves of knickknacks that had mesmerized her since childhood. The overhead lights were off, so the red, green, and purple neon tubes that edged the display windows were the only source of illumination, but it was more than enough to guide her steps as she moved to Remy’s side. She watched as he picked up the various dolls, candles, beads, tarot cards, potions, books, and other trinkets that filled the store. For such large hands, he handled everything with a surprisingly gentle touch. “Everything is exactly the same as I remember it.” He turned to smile at her, a warm glint in his eyes. “Well, not everything. You’ve changed quite a bit.” The heated way he looked at her made her tummy quiver. “Really? How so?” Remy took her hand and tugged her closer. The tips of her nipples grazed his muscular chest, sending tingles spiraling through her. “I tend to remember you as a shy, somewhat

awkward girl who was all knees and elbows back then.” She laughed softly, a little embarrassed. Yeah, that was a pretty good description of her when she was in high school. She had been what her mom called a late bloomer, so everything had changed her freshman year in college, when her body had made up for lost time. “And now?” she asked in a near whisper. He bent his head until his face was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. His left hand came up and found her hip, slowly gliding back and forth across the silky material and heating the skin underneath. “And now, you definitely aren’t shy, you move like a cat, and all those knees and elbows have turned into some serious curves I’d love to explore, since I’m smart enough to know what I want.” She blushed at hearing him put all that into words. “No one’s stopping you.” The glint in his eyes flared brighter for a moment as the neon lights caught them. Then, one of Remy’s hands was in her hair and he was kissing her. A moan involuntarily escaped her lips as his mouth came down on hers and his tongue slipped inside. He tasted so delicious she couldn’t help it. She slid her hands up the front of his shirt and grabbed his shoulders, squeezing hard as she pulled him even closer, urging him to kiss her harder. Remy must have understood what she was trying to say because the hand in her hair tightened possessively and his

tongue teased hers more aggressively. At the same time, his free hand moved around from her hip to her lower back, fitting her against him so firmly she could feel every ripple and bulge in that perfect body of his. And one of those bulges suggested he was enjoying the kiss just as much as she was. Triana melted against him, surrendering to a kiss she’d been fantasizing of for over a decade. She’d heard women talking about going all weak-kneed from a great kiss, but she’d never experienced it or even believed it. She believed it now. If Remy hadn’t been holding on to her so tightly, she was sure she would have collapsed to her knees right there in front of him. Isn’t that an interesting thought? She whimpered as Remy’s hand slid down her back to cup a nice handful of cheek and squeezed. How had he known she loved having her bottom played with? Jumping in bed with a guy after a few kisses wasn’t something she would ever consider, but Remy wasn’t just some random guy. He was the guy she’d crushed on all through high school, someone she considered more than a friend even if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Besides, he was like no one she’d ever kissed before. Good heavens, he had her stomach doing flips and barrel rolls! Triana was on the verge of asking Remy if he wanted to sneak upstairs to her old room when he pulled away so suddenly she almost fell over. She’d thought for a moment he must have read her mind, but then she realized he’d

stepped back to put a disturbing amount of distance between them. At the same time, he reached down to rearrange the front of his jeans, which suddenly seemed too tight for him. She opened her mouth to ask him what was up when a creaking sound on the stairs behind the cashier counter startled her. “Triana, is that you down there making all that noise?” Her eyes widened even as Remy gave her an apologetic smile. He’d pulled away because he’d heard Mom coming downstairs. Damn, he must have some seriously good ears. No shock there. The rest of him was frigging awesome, why not his ears? She ran her hands over her little black dress as she heard her mom coming down the last few steps. It was a good thing, too. The dress, which was already short, had crept up and would have flashed a load of skin. From the knowing grin on his face, she imagined Remy might have had something to do with that. Her mother wasn’t a prude by any means, and Triana wouldn’t have been embarrassed if she’d found her kissing a guy. But still, it was better to avoid the whole issue. Her mom was going to be shocked enough to see Remy as it was. “Yes, Mom, it’s me,” Triana said. “And look who I ran into on Bourbon Street.” Her mother reached the bottom of the stairs, grumbling about how Triana expected her to see anything with the lights off. When her mother flipped them on, Triana was shocked to see her standing there with a baseball bat over

her shoulder like she’d been about to bean whomever she’d heard down here. Tall and slender, her mother was a graceful woman in her sixties with a spring in her step and dark, curly hair she always wore tied back in a scarf. Her mother’s eyes widened when she saw Remy, but then a warm smile spread across her face. “Oh Lord! Remy, is that you?” Her mother set down the baseball bat, leaning it against the wall, then hurried across the shop in a way that made Triana think she already knew the answer to that question. “Yes, Mrs. Bellamy, it’s me,” Remy said with a laugh, stepping forward to give her mother a hug. When her mother pulled away, she looked Remy up and down with a sharp eye. “Goodness, look how much you’ve grown. What the heck have you been eating, entire cows? And stop calling me Mrs. Bellamy. It’s Gemma.” Remy chuckled. “I’ll try, but you’ve always been Mrs. Bellamy to me, so I’ll probably screw up a few times. I’m sorry we woke you up. Triana was showing me around the shop.” Her mom threw a glance her way, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “Just showing you around the shop, huh? With the lights out?” Remy didn’t even bat an eye. “We left them off so we wouldn’t wake you up. The glow of the neon in the display windows is more than enough to see by.” The smile tugging at the corners of her mother’s lips suggested she knew Remy was full of crap. “Uh-huh.”

“Remy is a police officer in Dallas now,” Triana quickly said before her mother could ask what else they’d been doing down here in the dark, though it was obvious she already knew. “He and three of his fellow officers are in town for training, and I was lucky enough to run into him in a club. I just turned around and there he was.” Her mother arched a brow, studying Remy thoughtfully. “You just walked into a random club on Bourbon Street and ran into Triana by pure chance? That’s…amazing.” Remy’s mouth curved. “Right place at the right time, I guess.” “Maybe,” her mother agreed. “Or perhaps the fates took a hand and made sure you two ran into each other tonight.” Triana stifled a groan. She might have known it was simple, random luck that Remy had found her in the club, but her mom took this destiny-and-fate thing seriously. While Triana didn’t buy into any of that stuff, she also never mocked her mom for believing in it. “Where are you boys staying while you’re in town?” her mom asked suddenly, catching Triana completely off guard. “The DoubleTree over on Canal Street,” Remy said. “The department was able to get a really good deal on the rooms, which is the only reason we’re not stuck in a cheap motel out by the airport.” The DoubleTree was a nice place and close to a lot of the big attractions near the river, but it was also on the far side of the French Quarter from the shop. Triana winced as she realized Remy was going to have a long walk back tonight, unless he called a cab. Her mother must have been thinking

the same thing because she frowned. “Why don’t you and your friends stay here while you’re in town?” her mother suggested. “I have plenty of space, and it will save your police department some money.” Triana blinked. Okay, she hadn’t expected that. Inviting Remy to stay was one thing, but letting three guys she’d never even met was out of character for her mother, to say the least. Remy seemed surprised too, but he recovered quickly. “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Bellamy—Gemma—but my commander expects us to use the rooms he put all the work into getting for us. Besides, we’ll be stomping in and out at all hours of the day and night. We’d only wake you up all the time.” Her mother sighed. “I understand. But if you change your mind, tell your friends they’re more than welcome.” Remy thanked her again and assured her he would keep her offer in mind. Triana knew Remy was simply being polite. He might be willing to stay there, especially after the kisses they’d just shared, but she was betting his friends preferred having their own hotel rooms in the event they needed a place to take any girls they picked up. Considering how her friends had flirted with them at the club, needing the privacy of a hotel room was an extremely good possibility. Her mom chatted with her and Remy for a few more minutes before announcing she was going back to bed. “It’s good seeing you again, Remy. I hope you make time to stop in a few nights and have dinner with Triana and me while

you’re here.” “I will,” he promised, glancing at Triana. “In fact, I think I might be spending quite a lot of time here.” Triana couldn’t help noticing the tingle of excitement that ran through her at the thought of spending time with Remy. “Oh, and you don’t have to rush off, Remy,” her mother said before disappearing up the steps. “You can turn off the lights and look around the shop for a while longer if you like.” Remy chuckled as they listened to the bedroom door close. “Your mother is amazing.” “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” Triana agreed with a smile. She reached out and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him closer. “So, would you like to look around the shop for a while longer…with the lights on this time?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her and lightly touched his lips to hers. Triana moaned and buried her fingers in his short, dark-blond hair, intending to yank him down for a serious kiss, but before she could, he pulled away. “You have no idea how much I’d like to spend the whole night kissing you,” he said softly, his eyes blazing with hunger. “But the first day of cross-training starts in a few hours.” It was the same thing she would have done in his position, so Triana was surprised at how disappointed she was that he had to leave. She forced herself to be mature and nod. “I understand. I

had fun tonight.” “Me too,” he said with a smile. “How about I stop by tomorrow after training? We can go out to eat or dance or just hang out and talk, if you want.” She liked the sound of that. “It’s a date.”

Chapter 3 Remy strode down the empty hallway, Max, Brooks, and Zane at his heels in tight formation. When he reached the stout wood door at the end, Remy nodded his head rapidly three times, then quickly moved aside, making room for Brooks to come through with the battering ram. Brooks slammed the thirty-pound cylindrical piece of metal into the door directly below the knob, shattering the wood and sending pieces of the lock flying. The moment it was open, Zane reached out and pulled Brooks back from the doorway, where the momentum of the ram’s swing had left him a sitting duck. Remy darted into the room, Max right behind him, each of them covering their respective quadrants. It was something they’d done so many times in training that it was as familiar to them as breathing. By the time Brooks and Zane entered the room behind them, he and Max were already motioning that the space was clear. Remy gestured toward a door on the far side. As they approached it, Remy holstered his standard-issue SIG Sauer .40-caliber pistol and swung his tactical shotgun off

his back. If the lock on this second door was as strong as it looked, the battering ram would probably bounce off. Okay, probably not with a werewolf of Brooks’s size handling it, but the goal wasn’t to draw attention to themselves. It was to get through the house quickly using the most efficient breaching techniques available. In the SWAT world, if you were worried about the lock being reinforced, you ignored the lock and went after the hinges. Remy’s teammates took an extra step back as he pressed the barrel of the shotgun against the door, where the lower hinge was attached, and fired three shots into it. Without pausing to check the effect of his first shots, he repeated the process at the top and middle of the door, shredding most of the area along the edge. Pointing his shotgun upward, he kicked in the door, then hauled ass out of the way as Max and Brooks slipped through to clear the room beyond. Shots immediately rang out as Max and Brooks handled the targets inside. Remy had his shotgun back over his shoulder and was drawing his sidearm when Brooks silently motioned that the furniture-filled room was clear and pointed toward a door on Remy’s right. This one was heavy-duty metal, like something you’d see on the outside of an industrial warehouse. It wouldn’t normally be an issue for a werewolf to get through it using simple brute force, but he knew Gage would be pissed if they did that, so Remy went for plan B. While the other guys covered him, he moved toward the door, reaching into the demo bag on his hip for the

breaching charge he’d put together before coming into the building. Remy pulled the paper off the peel-and-stick back of the charge and shoved it against the door, in between the knob and the jamb, then unspooled the wires of the electric detonator he’d already hooked up to the firing device and gave Brooks a nod. The big man double-checked to make sure the other three members of the team were safely away from the charge and returned his nod. Remy immediately flipped the cover on the firing device and pressed the red button, then spun around, putting his back to the door. The sound of the blast reverberated throughout the room, the force of it vibrating through him as plastic fragments peppered the back of his tactical vest and cargo pants. By the time he turned around, the dead bolt had been torn apart and the metal door was open. Zane and Max stormed into the cloud of acrid smoke left in the charge’s wake, firing at the targets set up in the room beyond. Remy and Max had just followed them in when a voice rang out over the speaker in the top right-hand corner of the room. “Cease fire! Course complete.” Silence descended over the shoot house as Remy and the other guys complied with the command. “You got through there in twenty-two seconds. That’s what I call frigging impressive as hell,” the man’s voice came through the speaker again. “Now get out here and tell us how the hell you did it.” Remy chuckled and holstered his weapon, then led his teammates to the back door of the shoot house and out into

the early morning sunshine, where Lieutenant Drew Thompson and the rest of the New Orleans SWAT team were waiting for them. The twenty men and two women had watched the whole thing on the monitors and were regarding them in admiration. “Okay, so spill,” Drew said. Tall with blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair cut military style, Drew had come up through the ranks on the Dallas SWAT team with Gage, and when Gage had been named commander, Drew had moved to New Orleans. According to Gage, Drew hadn’t been pissed or jealous Gage had gotten the job but had simply wanted to be in charge of his own team. They’d parted as friends and had stayed in touch. “What we just did in there might look good, but some of that stuff would be impossible to do on a good portion of the calls our team in Dallas handle,” Remy said. As one of the more experienced breachers on the team, he’d volunteered to lead the training in this area. “The three breaching methods we demonstrated—the battering ram, shotgun breach, and explosive charge—all come with advantages and disadvantages.” Remy walked over to a long table set up with all kinds of tactical breaching gear, stopping beside the battering ram that was similar to the one Brooks had used to take down the first door. “The ram is the simplest method to get through most doors, but it leaves the person using it standing in the middle of the doorway defenseless because they don’t have a weapon out.” He moved farther down the table to a shotgun that was

identical to the one on his back and held it up. “This can deal with doors that have been reinforced along the lock or hinge side, but it also exposes whoever uses it to someone firing through the door. Worse, the ammo you use, whether it’s buckshot or slug, will keep going and could hit civilians.” He placed the rifle on the table. “The same goes for the explosive breaching charge—it’s going to throw fragments everywhere when you initiate it. So, for either of those methods, you’d better know what’s on the other side of the door you’re going through, or you’re going to end up injuring, or killing, the people you’re there to save.” That wasn’t anything the cops on the NOPD SWAT team didn’t already know. It wasn’t difficult to find a SWAT officer who didn’t live in fear of going through a door expecting to find a bad guy with a gun and instead finding a four-year-old in their pj’s. “We’re going to spend the rest of the morning breaching all kinds of doors,” Remy continued. “But we’re not only going to worry about getting through the obstacles. We’re also going to learn where the fragment debris from different breaching techniques goes and how dangerous it can be.” He walked along the table until he came to a cardboard box filled with red balloons. He took one out and held it up. “You pop a balloon, it means you injured or killed a hostage or a teammate. Whoever pops the most balloons buys a round of beer for everyone.” That earned Remy a couple groans, some chuckles, and more than a few grins. Every SWAT officer appreciated learning a new skill, but they also loved a little competition

—especially if the loser ended up having to buy the winner beer. “All right, you heard the man,” Drew said. “Let’s break up into teams and get to work.”

*** Remy was soaked with sweat by the time training ended just in time for a late lunch. As he and his pack mates sat at a picnic table behind the NOPD SWAT facility, drinking Gatorade and talking about the plan for that afternoon’s training, he realized he’d forgotten what the humidity down here on the river was like. It was so hot and sticky it was hard to believe there was a tropical storm still sitting out in the Gulf meandering around like a lost two-year-old. But humid or not, it had been a good morning of training. On the downside, they’d probably blown through the SWAT unit’s entire budget for wood, building supplies, and training explosives for the quarter, but they’d learned more about breaching in one morning than they probably had in the past two or three years. You couldn’t put a price tag on that. Remy and his teammates had planned to run out and grab lunch at the nearest restaurant, but Andy told them to hang around because they were cooking up something special in the facility’s kitchen. If Remy’s nose was right, that something special was sausage and crawfish gumbo with a side of rice and corn bread. He sure as hell didn’t mind waiting around for that. “We’re going back to Bourbon Street tonight,” Max said

between gulps of Gatorade. “You in?” Remy shook his head. “Nah. I’m getting together with Triana tonight.” Brooks grinned. “Triana, huh?” “Yeah,” he said, trying to downplay his interest in her. He told himself it was so the guys wouldn’t rag on him, but it was more than that and he knew it. Introspection wasn’t his thing though, so he wasn’t going to waste brain cells thinking about it. “I figured we’d go out and get something to eat, catch up on old times.” “Good for you,” Max said from the other side of the picnic table. “Considering the way you were able to pick up her scent and track her halfway across the French Quarter when none of us could even smell it, she’s obviously special. You’d be stupid not to go after her.” Self-preservation made Remy stomp on the figurative brakes. “Whoa, slow down there. I might have crushed on Triana back in high school, but I don’t have any interest in doing anything more than hanging out and talking.” Max, Brooks, and Zane stared at him as if he were a pig wearing a Rolex. Remy suddenly felt like shit for lying his ass off. And if the frown on Brooks’s face was any indication, the guy knew he wasn’t being honest. He and Triana were going to hang out and talk, but that sure as hell wasn’t the only reason Remy wanted to see her tonight. The thought that they might be doing a lot more than catching up on the good old days had not only kept him from getting any sleep last night, but it had been buzzing through his head all morning too. He wasn’t sure how the

hell he’d managed to focus on training. Even after spending most of the evening with her, he still couldn’t believe the woman Triana had become. He’d been around his share of beautiful women, but none had affected him the way she did. She was so dazzling he could barely breathe when she smiled at him. Her scent was so intoxicating he’d walked around with a hard-on the whole night. And when he’d kissed her, he’d damn near lost it and shifted right there in her mother’s shop. If she’d been wearing a Little Red Riding Hood costume, he would have been more than ready to play the part of the Big Bad Wolf and eaten her up on the spot. Walking away from her last night had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Not that leaving had helped very much. It had been a long walk across the French Quarter, and yet he barely remembered going back to the hotel. When he’d gotten back to his room, he lay there and dreamed about her as the few remaining hours of night waned. He’d have sworn he could still smell her scent from halfway across the city, and it had nearly been his undoing. It had taken everything in him not to climb out of bed, run back to the shop, and make love to her as the sun came up. He’d been with Triana for half the night and he already had it bad for her. Yet here he was, trying to tell the guys it was no big deal. And they weren’t buying it. Hell, it probably didn’t help that every one of them could hear his heart rate elevating simply from thinking about kissing her. “Really?” Brooks said, eyeballing him like he knew exactly what was going on. “Sure seemed like a lot more

than that. If I had to guess, I’d say it was like the two of you had an immediate, almost magical connection. After all the crazy stuff we’ve seen in the last year, you don’t think there’s a chance she could be The One for you?” Panic shot through Remy. The One was that one-in-abillion soul mate who existed for every werewolf out there. Even though they were supposedly as hard to find as hens’ teeth, five of his teammates had already met their mates in the past year. The odds said something like that should have been impossible, but it had happened anyway. Now, most of the other members of the Pack were essentially looking behind every tree and around every corner, wondering if their soul mates were going to show up at some point. Remy wasn’t one of them. He’d found love already. As far as he was concerned, he was one and done. He was completely fine hooking up with women who caught his fancy, but he never let things progress beyond that. There was no denying he and Triana had some serious chemistry going on between them, but that was a far cry from being soul mates, mythological or otherwise. Just hearing Brooks say the words The One made him feel like he was going to be ill. “Hell no!” he said vehemently. “It’s nothing like that. Triana is just a friend. Period…dot…end of sentence.” Across from Remy, Brooks regarded him with a knowing look. He knew Remy was hiding something for sure. Some of the more mature werewolves in the Pack, like Brooks and Gage, were walking lie detectors. By picking up on subtle changes in heart and respiratory rate, body scent, and

even random muscle twitches, they could tell when other people were trying to feed them a line. Brooks almost certainly knew Remy was talking BS, but thankfully he didn’t call him on it. Zane, on the other hand, wasn’t so reserved. “Did you stand too close to the breaching charge when it exploded this morning? Because unless you have a concussion, I have a hard time believing the words coming out of your mouth. I’ve never seen you not go after a woman you’re attracted to, and don’t try to convince us you’re not panting like a hound for Triana. I saw you two dancing—and smelled you. Pheromones don’t lie.” Remy considered arguing, but then figured he’d not only lose, but probably embarrass himself too. There was no way in hell he was going to sit here and have a discussion about the scent he might put off when he was aroused. That was simply not a conversation he wanted to have. So, he went in a completely different direction instead. “Yeah, okay, I’m attracted to her. So what? Triana has been a friend for a really long time. I don’t want to mess up that friendship.” Beside him, Zane nodded. “I can understand that. But I should probably point out that you and Triana weren’t exactly dancing like friends last night—at least, not like any friends I’ve ever danced with.” Remy snorted. “That’s because you’re too uptight and British to know how to relax and have a good time. Friends in New Orleans dance like that all the time.” “That’s a load of crap,” Max said. “Zane and I are friends,

and we weren’t dancing like that last night.” Remy looked back and forth at his two pack mates. “Maybe you should. You two would look good together.” Max chuckled. “Yeah, but that’s because I look good with anyone. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to get a shot at him. For reasons that are beyond me, Triana’s friend Kim seemed to take a liking to Zane. I don’t think she’s going to let anyone else get near him the whole time we’re here.” Desperate for any topic that would get his pack mates’ attention off him and Triana, Remy jumped on it. “Now that you mention it, I did notice you and Kim were getting close. You do realize she’s on the rebound, right? You sure you want to get in the middle of that?” Zane swigged some Gatorade. “Kim and I aren’t getting into anything. We danced and snogged a bit, but mostly all we did was talk. She’s not looking for anything serious but admitted she wouldn’t mind hanging out with someone who’d help take her mind off her ex for a while. I graciously agreed to do that. We’re two intelligent adults with no hidden agendas. She’s looking for a distraction, and I’m cool with that. She’s funny, easy to talk to, and sexy as hell. And before you ask, no, she’s not The One for me.” “How do you know that?” Max asked. “You have talked to Gage and the other guys who found their mates, right?” Zane countered. “According to them, they knew they’d found The One before they ever kissed. It might have taken them a while to realize what it was, but it was there. Based on that, I can state with certainty that Kim isn’t my mate.”

Max and Zane were still arguing about that and the possibility you could meet your soul mate and not even know it when Drew came out of the main building. “Is lunch finally ready?” Remy asked the NOPD SWAT commander with a grin. “Hope so, because I’m starving.” Drew didn’t return his smile. “Gumbo’s made, but unfortunately it’s going in the fridge. We’ve been called in to support the Narcotics Major Case Squad. They need backup to serve a high-risk search warrant on a target so sensitive they couldn’t even talk about it over the phone. But if it’s the guy I think it is, this one could get ugly. The four of you feel up to doing some real SWAT work instead of just training for it?”

*** Triana frowned at the chaotic mess of voodoo dolls on the huge table in the middle of her mother’s shop—what was left of them anyway. Sometimes when the tourists came through, it seemed like a hurricane had hit the place. Things were everywhere. “Mom, I think you need to make some more voodoo dolls,” Triana shouted toward the back room, where her mom was doing her thing. “The big tour group from New York that came through yesterday just about wiped you out.” “Already on it,” her mother called. Triana couldn’t help smiling. Her mother was amazing. Most of the voodoo shops in town bought their stuff from overseas these days, but not her mom. While the T-shirts and

knickknacks were from out of town, her mother hand made all the authentic voodoo items like the spells, oils, herbs, charms, candles, dolls, and gris-gris bags. “So when was the last time you heard from this PI you’re paying so much money for?” Kim asked, dragging Triana’s attention back to the subject they’d been discussing before the critical voodoo doll shortage had been identified. Kim had taken off from work to hang out with Triana and help restock the shelves and straighten up the place. “It’s been five weeks,” Triana admitted with a shrug. “But he warned me this could take a while. The case was ice-cold by the time I hired him, and the detective who handled the case hasn’t exactly been very interested in talking to a private investigator about what he learned, probably because he never learned a damn thing.” “So you’re getting nothing out of this guy but a bill?” Kim attempted to reattach a voodoo doll’s arm that had been savagely ripped off. After a couple of attempts, she gave up and instead simply ripped off the other arm in what Triana assumed was an effort to make the doll look symmetrical. “How long are you going to keep paying the guy?” “I have no doubt he’s probably milking me for everything he can get, but I have to try something. I can’t let the man who murdered my dad get away with it…not without at least trying to find him.” Kim hid the dismembered voodoo doll in the back of the pile. Triana took note of where it was, so she could dig it out later. Kim was a great friend but lousy at stocking

shelves. “I know,” Kim said. “All I’m saying is that you need to watch yourself. There are people in the world who will see your loss as their gain. Just be smart, okay?” “I will.” Triana understood what her friend was trying to say, but at the end of the day, she didn’t care about the money. If there was even a minuscule chance of finding the person who killed her father, she’d pay any price. They worked in silence for a while, and as much as Triana tried to prevent it, her mind went to that dark place it tended to go whenever she thought about how much she missed her father and how much she hated the person who’d taken him away. Kim tossed her blond curls over her shoulder and turned to her, one hand on her hip. “All right, enough of this depressing stuff. I’m not going to let you get into a funk over this. Time to change the subject.” “Okay.” Triana pasted on a smile for her friend’s benefit. “What do you suggest we talk about to lighten the mood?” Kim grinned, her green eyes dancing. “Why don’t we talk about Remy and the way you two were getting down and dirty last night?” Triana laughed. If Kim had been looking for a topic that would brighten her mood, she’d definitely picked a good one. It was impossible to think about Remy and not smile. “We weren’t getting down and dirty last night,” she insisted as she put the last doll in place. “We were just dancing.”

Kim gave her a dubious look. “Please. There were some wicked-hot sparks flying off you guys. I thought you and Remy might burst into flames right there on the dance floor. You sure there was never anything between the two of you in high school?” “No, there was never anything between us, but I always wished there had been,” Triana said, unable to keep the wistful tone out of her voice. “Man, did I have a serious crush on him back then.” Her friend’s lips curved. “I can definitely see why. The guy is a hunk.” “He’s definitely a hunk, all right—and then some.” Triana smiled, remembering the feel of all those muscles under her fingers as they danced…and kissed. She’d been so aroused after Remy had left her mother’s shop last night, it had taken almost an hour for her body to return to normal. Just thinking about those kisses had her tummy quivering all over again. “How the heck did you let a guy like that get away in high school?” Kim asked. “Especially since it’s obvious he’s completely enamored with you.” A warm blush crept into her cheeks at the thought of Remy being attracted to her. “That’s the funny part,” she admitted. “Remy wasn’t like this in high school. I mean, he was definitely hot, but nothing like he is now. It’s hard to even stand beside him without getting turned on.” “Damn,” Kim breathed. “If you got turned on simply from standing beside him, I can only imagine what it was like when you guys were dancing. I’m surprised you didn’t

orgasm right there in the club.” Triana stifled a moan, then threw a quick glance at the back room to make sure her mother was still in there before giving Kim a grin. “Me too.” “When are you seeing him again?” Kim arched a brow. “You are seeing him again, right?” Triana laughed. “Duh! Of course I am. We’re going out tonight.” Crap, the other day she’d promised Kim they’d go see a movie tonight. How the heck could she have forgotten that? “Oh God. I completely forgot you and I had plans. I’ll call Remy and tell him we need to do dinner another night.” “Don’t you dare!” Kim said. “Remy’s only in town for the week. I know you think I’m falling apart since Shawn dumped me, but I’m fine. Really.” Triana wasn’t sure she believed her friend. The jerk formerly known as Shawn had dumped Kim on the same night she’d expected him to pop the question. Any woman would have been thrown for a loop after that. “Kim, you and Shawn dated for four years,” she said gently. “You have every right to be down.” “I was for a while,” Kim admitted. “Worse, I was down on myself because I thought the whole breakup was my fault. But after we left the club last night, Zane told me something that put everything into perspective.” “What’s that?” “He pointed out that Shawn walking out had nothing to do with me,” she said. “It was one hundred percent about Shawn and his inability to grow up and accept our future together. Zane made me realize I wasn’t the reason Shawn

left. Shawn threw away what we had because he’s an immature coward.” Triana knew there was a reason she’d felt good about leaving Kim in Zane’s company. Then something Kim said earlier caught her attention. “So…wait a second. You and Zane left the club together?” Kim’s smile was dreamy. “Yeah. We walked around the Quarter until four o’clock in the morning, talking…and making out a little. We could have easily ended up in bed, but we didn’t. It was fun hanging out with a guy who’s so comfortable in his own skin that there’s no reason to rush anything.” The comfortable way Kim implied there could have been sex surprised Triana a little. She didn’t expect Kim to even be interested in jumping into bed with a guy so soon after breaking up with Shawn. “Are you planning to sleep with Zane?” Kim shrugged. “Maybe. If it feels right. Is there any reason I shouldn’t? We’re two consenting adults with no other commitments. As much as I cared about Shawn, and still do, he left me. I don’t even know where he is right now. And Zane isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.” She straightened a voodoo doll. “We talked honestly about it last night. If we sleep together, it will be plain and simple, no-strings sex with no expectations. I’m thinking at this point in my life that might be the very best thing for me.” She smiled. “I’d be lying if I said the idea of a little rebound sex with someone as perfect as Zane isn’t awfully tempting.”

Triana stood there, stunned to complete silence. In one night, her confused, hurt, and devastated best friend had been transformed into a completely different person after simply spending an evening with a handsome guy she’d just met. Triana had been trying to console her since getting into town and hadn’t gotten anywhere. “What about you and Remy?” Kim asked. Triana shrugged. “We’ll probably grab dinner someplace, then walk around the French Quarter. Maybe go dancing.” Kim smiled. “Sounds like fun, but that’s not exactly what I meant. I was asking if you’re going to sleep with him. You know, make up for lost time and all that.” Triana opened her mouth to reply, but then realized she didn’t have a clue how to answer what should have been a simple question. She was attracted to Remy. Okay, understatement there. She’d come damn close to dragging him up to her room last night. The intensity of the sensation would be scary if it wasn’t so intoxicating at the same time. But now that she was out of his hypnotizing presence— and thinking more clearly—she was glad nothing had happened last night. She wasn’t the type to jump into something with a guy without thinking it through. She had her love of all things scientific to thank for that. It made her cautious, linear, and kind of practical. None of those made a woman want to jump in the sack with a guy she’d crushed on in high school, especially one who was only going to be around for a week. “Earth to Triana,” Kim said, waving her hand in Triana’s face. “I wasn’t asking you to do calculus in your head. Stop

thinking so much all the time and just go after the guy you’ve wanted since you were old enough to have those kinds of thoughts. From what you just said, you and Remy had it bad for each other all the way back in high school, and if what I saw last night is any indication, it’s obvious the spark is still there. Why don’t you take a leap of faith and see where the heck it takes you?” Triana gave her a look. “You’re honestly saying you think I should jump in the sack with him and not worry about what happens when he goes back to Dallas and I go home to Houston?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Just treat this next week as a chance to make up for all that time you wasted back in high school.” Kim grinned. “Worst case, you have a week of unbelievable sex. Because trust me, after watching that man move on the dance floor, there’s no chance in hell he isn’t an Olympian between the sheets.” “And best case?” Triana prompted, figuring she already knew where Kim was going with this. Kim’s smile broadened. “Best case, you two fall madly in love and figure out the three-and-a-half-hour drive from Dallas to Houston isn’t that much of an obstacle to overcome. Heck, who knows? Maybe you get so swept up in each other that you chuck it all and run off to live with Remy in Dallas.” “Or he could chuck it all and run off to Houston to live with me,” Triana countered with a laugh. “Exactly!” Kim said. “Now you’re talking.” All Triana could do was shake her head. After everything

Kim had been through with Shawn, she was thinking Triana and Remy were going to have some kind of storybook romance. Her mother would be thrilled if that happened. She hadn’t said as much, but Triana knew her mother wanted her to find something special, like her mother had found with Triana’s dad. Triana wasn’t sure if Remy was that guy, but maybe Kim was right about going with her feelings and seeing where it led. Like Kim said, worst case, there’d be some great sex involved. What kind of girl turned her nose up at that? She opened her mouth to tell Kim she’d let things take their natural course with Remy when the bell on the door to the shop tinkled. Triana turned to see an older man in a white linen suit and fancy dress shoes shamble into the shop. He looked around the store with an air of disdain, but his expression brightened when he saw her and Kim. Triana wasn’t fooled for a second. She knew a bullshit facade when she saw it. This guy was full of it. He walked over and extended his hand. Even though she didn’t want to, Triana shook it nonetheless. She regretted the decision when she got a palm full of cold, clammy hand. Ick, she hated men with limp, sweaty hands. Then she caught sight of the man’s buffed and polished nails. Crap, his manicure probably cost more than her shoes. That was the final nail in the coffin as far as she was concerned. “Kenneth Murphy, attorney with Taylor and Burr,” the man said in an officious tone. “Is your mother in?” A shiver ran down Triana’s back. She’d never seen this

man in her life, yet he obviously knew her. How else had he known to ask for her mother? She opened her mouth to ask him as much when her mom stepped out of the back room and leveled a piercing stare at the man. “You didn’t need to come here, Mr. Murphy. I already told you over the phone that I couldn’t help you.” The man gave her mother another fake smile. “I completely understand, Mrs. Bellamy. But I thought that if we talked in person and you took a look at the offer I’m making, it might change your mind.” Reaching into the inside pocket on his suit jacket, Murphy took out a sheet of paper, unfolded it, then held it out. It was a drawing of a necklace in the shape of a wolf’s head. “It’s a copper pendant, and the eyes of the wolf are made of yellow topaz.” Her mother didn’t say anything. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, an irritated look on her face. “As I mentioned when we talked on the phone, my client is offering a very reasonable sum of money for a trinket such as the one I’m describing,” Murphy said. “And who is this client of yours, Mr. Murphy?” her mother asked in an icy voice. Triana frowned. Her mother was never abrupt or cold with anyone. If her mom didn’t like this guy, there was a reason. The man gave her a syrupy smile. “He prefers to remain anonymous in this transaction, but I can assure you, Mrs. Bellamy, I’m fully authorized to negotiate on his behalf. As

I said, five thousand dollars is a very reasonable offer.” Triana did a double take. That wasn’t chump change for a shopkeeper who sold voodoo merchandise to tourists and some of the locals. That kind of money could pay the taxes on this place for a year, maybe more. “That’s very generous,” her mother said. “But as I told you over the phone, I don’t have any necklace like that in my shop.” “Of course you don’t,” Murphy said in a tone that made Triana think the man thought her mother was lying. “But perhaps you know where my client could find one exactly like it—and I do mean exactly.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Murphy, but I can’t help you,” her mother said in a tone that brooked no compromise. Triana was confused. She remembered her father wearing a wolf-head pendant just like the one Murphy was looking for. She’d even played with it as a child when he’d held her in his great big arms. He’d never taken it off. And she did mean never. No way had her mother gotten rid of it. “Perhaps if the offer was more substantial, it might help your memory?” Murphy proposed sweetly. Her mom smacked that idea down like a june bug. “Apparently I haven’t made myself completely clear. Let me do so now. There is no necklace like that anywhere in my possession, but even if I did have it, I would never sell it to you or this anonymous client of yours. Please leave and don’t come back here again. Good day, Mr. Murphy.” The man’s face turned red as he glowered, but her mother returned his glare with one of her own. Triana thought for a

moment she might have to step in and do something, but to her surprise, Murphy sullenly gave her mother a nod, then turned and walked out of the shop. Triana opened her mouth to ask what all that had been about, but her mother had already disappeared into the back room and closed the door. “That was weird,” Kim said. “That’s one word for it,” Triana agreed.

Chapter 4 Remy’s back thumped against the interior wall of the operations van as the vehicle made a right turn off the main street, then bounced a little as it crossed some train tracks. He closed his eyes and visualized the map that had been taped to the whiteboard during the tactical mission briefing. Crossing those tracks meant they’d just turned off Chartres and were only a couple of blocks from the river. In a few minutes, they’d reach the docks, the cargo ship, and the warehouse owned by a man named Aaron Lee. Remy had already been familiar with the name before sitting through the briefing that Drew and the lead detective from the narcotics squad, Lorenzo Claiborne, had conducted earlier. Remy had run across Lee’s name more than a few times when he’d worked in the sheriff’s office years ago. The man had been a long-standing criminal fixture in the city, a heavy hitter in nearly every illegal activity going on along the Mississippi River. Drugs, prostitution, gambling, fencing stolen property, protection rackets—the man was into all of it. Remy thought for sure

someone at the local, state, or federal level would have been able to pin something on the man a long time ago, but clearly Aaron Lee was too good a criminal for that. If the informant Detective Claiborne and his narcotics crew had inside Lee’s operation was right, all that was about to change. Because they were about to serve a warrant on one of Lee’s ships just in from Mexico, which was supposedly carrying over three hundred pounds of highquality crystal meth. If they found that stash of drugs, Aaron Lee was finally heading to prison. Serving search warrants on drug operations was always a risky job, which was why SWAT was so frequently asked to go in the door first. Going up against a man who’d been running his drug operation for decades made it even worse. With a shipment of “ice” having a street value of close to five million dollars, Lee was bound to have dozens of heavily armed men covering the ship and the warehouse. The chances of this operation turning into a shoot-out were extremely high. But with the memory of that young girl on the ambulance gurney from last night still fresh in his mind, Remy knew there wasn’t any other way to do this. They couldn’t let a shipment this big make it onto the streets of New Orleans, or the girl he and Triana had seen would be just one of many people ending up in the hospitals—and the morgue. Remy watched as his pack mates and the NOPD SWAT officers checked their gear and weapons again, then went over the plan one last time. As they murmured softly to each other, his heart began to beat faster. Around him, everyone

else’s did too. But while Remy’s and his pack mates’ did so out of excitement, that wasn’t the case with the cops on the NOPD SWAT team. The officers he and his pack mates had spent the morning training with knew they were going up against people who had no qualms about shooting cops. To be blunt about it, the men and women on the NOPD SWAT team had no way of knowing if they were even going to be alive an hour from now. Their adrenaline was pumping because they were nervous, even a little scared. Remy didn’t hold that against them. They were only human. That limitation didn’t apply to Remy and the other members of his pack. Getting shot wasn’t that big of a deal for them. Werewolves could survive just about any kind of wound imaginable, as long as it wasn’t to the head or the heart. Getting shot hurt, sure. But knowing you weren’t going to die from it tended to give the Dallas SWAT team a completely different outlook on danger—it probably wasn’t an outlook a mental health professional would approve of, but it was definitely unique. Remy and his pack mates were amped up because this was the shit alpha werewolves lived for. He knew he’d never be able to explain the concept to a normal person, but feeling that surge of adrenaline when his werewolf senses went on hyperalert, experiencing the tension that rippled through his body as his inner wolf attempted to come out to protect itself… There was no better feeling in the world. For an alpha werewolf like him and the Pack, it was the feeling of being alive.

“We’re approaching the west gate. Thirty seconds out,” Detective Claiborne’s voice came through over the radio in Remy’s ear. “Drew, you ready on the east side?” “Roger that,” Drew replied. “Gate personnel in position. The operation is a go. Move in.” “Weapons hot,” Brooks murmured. As one, the charging handles on eight M4 carbines were yanked back and released, loading the weapons with a familiar and soothing clatter. At the same time, Remy felt the operations vehicle accelerate. He pulled down his ski mask along with everyone else. Lee’s warehouse complex had a tall fence around the entire property, with two gates, one to the east and the other to the west. Both of them were normally secured with locked chains. Now that Drew had given the word, two other members of the team dressed in plain clothes would be heading toward the gates with small explosive charges ready to blow the locks. The timing would have to be perfect, though—too early and they’d alert the people on the ship they were coming, too late and the operations vans would smash into the gates. The driver of the operations vehicle Remy was in backed off the gas a little. No doubt he was worried the gate wouldn’t be open when they got there. But a moment later, the driver floored it, and they were racing through the gate so fast Remy bounced off the seat as they crossed over the entrance bump. Remy tensed, ready to move the moment the operations vehicle came to a stop. It was only about a hundred feet

across the west gate parking lot. Any second now, the driver would swerve to the side and they’d exit out the back of the van. Then, he and the other members of the Dallas SWAT team, along with the NOPD officers, would head for the cargo ship moored at the dock. While Remy and his pack mates began sweeping the ship, NOPD SWAT would head to the ship’s bridge to make sure no one tried to start the engines. While all this was happening, Drew’s team would move into the warehouse from the east and gain control of the structure. Lorenzo and his men from the narcotics squad would hang back until the whole area was initially secured; then, they’d come in with dogs and personnel to do the detailed search for the drugs. Remy was still visualizing exactly how much ground he and the others would have to cover to get to the ship when the truck slid sideways and Brooks shoved the doors open. Then he stopped thinking and started moving, jumping out of the truck and running for the southwest corner of the building and the ship docked just beyond it. He told himself to hold back a bit, so he wouldn’t blow past the NOPD SWAT officers, but that was damn hard to do when every instinct he had screamed at him to go as hard as he could, to attack ferociously before Lee’s people had a chance to react. Off to Remy’s left, the warehouse was a giant metal structure with lots of rust and even more dents. Outside of it, pallets of steel oil pipes and heavy-duty equipment for drilling platforms out in the Gulf were scattered haphazardly along their path. It was almost as if someone

had gone out of their way to convince people this was a legitimate warehousing operation. Just ahead of him, Remy could make out the wide, slowmoving expanse of the Mississippi lined almost entirely with docks along this part of the river. He reached out with his senses, straining to pick up any sight, sound, or smell that would indicate Lee’s people were about to start shooting at them. To be truthful, he’d expected to run into resistance by this point. That they hadn’t didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it worried the hell out of him. You could never trust criminals who didn’t play their proper roles. As he raced around the building, Remy got his first real look at the coastal merchant vessel tied up at the pier. It wasn’t as huge as some of the container ships that plied the waters of the Mississippi, but it was still large enough to hide a football field in, not to mention a buttload of armed thugs. Still not running into a single person—armed or otherwise—he and the others reached the metal gangway attached to the side of the ship and raced aboard. Remy’s gut told him something was off here, but they had no choice except to keep going. The four NOPD SWAT officers peeled off and headed toward the rear of the ship and the elevated bridge positioned there, while Remy and his pack mates split up into pairs and headed down into the cargo hold. Even though they moved fast, they covered each other the whole time. While they weren’t worried about getting shot, it was

a standing wager in the Pack that the first wolf who got hit would have to buy the beer for the next team cookout. The pain of getting shot might not be a big deal, but the pain of buying beer? Now that was excruciating. Remy ducked through a rounded door, then moved down a flight of stairs, Max on his heels. Somewhere off to the right, he heard Brooks and Zane moving along an adjacent set of stairs. As they descended, he let his eyes shift to see in the rapidly darkening depth of the ship. One level down, and it was already getting dark as midnight. Coastal vessels like this one were true multipurpose workhorses, with some parts of the hold set aside for neat pallets of anything from computers to clothing to food, other areas designed for loose storage of grains or coal, and still other spots where tractor-trailer-sized containers could be placed and locked down. Down in the hold, a regular human could quickly get turned around in the dark, bewildering maze of partitioned spaces and the confusing corridors created by the cargo itself. Remy wasn’t worried about that for himself or his guys, no matter how dark it was. Their werewolf senses made up for their lack of experience in places like this. His biggest concern was that they’d get into a running gunfight in the middle of a ship full of who knew what kind of hazardous cargo. Having the ship burn down to the waterline because some idiot accidently started a fire in a hold full of coal wasn’t what they were looking to do today. But as they moved farther down the stairs and into the first section of loose cargo, it quickly became apparent there

wasn’t going to be a gunfight, running or otherwise. “Guys, I’m not picking up any active scents down here,” Brooks whispered. “No one has been in this part of the ship for at least a half hour or so. That doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.” Remy cursed silently. Something was definitely off with this raid. It was like there was no one home, which was crazy since the ship was obviously still fully loaded. There should have been tons of people down there, prepping the stuff for off-loading. Not to mention the fact that there should have been some armed guards protecting the drugs that were supposed to be here. He and his pack mates weren’t the only ones thinking there was something wrong. The four NOPD officers who had split off and headed for the bridge came on the radio with a status report, saying the bridge was secure and that even though the captain and several of his men had been there, they hadn’t resisted. “Same in the warehouse.” Drew’s voice was terse in Remy’s earpiece. “There were two guards on duty, but they were just sitting at a table playing cards when we came in. I swear, it was like they knew we were coming.” A moment later, Lorenzo came on and announced he was bringing the drug dogs in, but Remy already had a sinking feeling it was going to be a waste of time. Either the drugs had never been here, or somehow Aaron Lee’s people had known the police were coming and had gotten the drugs out before they’d even arrived. “Guys, over here,” Brooks said.

Remy looked up to see Brooks standing near an open door in the darkness on the far side of the cargo hold. No doubt it led to a storage room, but from the look on Brooks’s face, it wasn’t pallets of potato chips that had attracted his attention. As he got closer, Remy picked up the slight chlorine-like chemical smell coming from the room. This was where the drugs had been hidden. Remy stepped past Brooks into the room and followed his nose over to the far wall. Eyes narrowing, he looked closer and realized one section of it was a removable panel four feet high and three feet wide. He ran his hands along the edges until he found the cleverly hidden grips. Grabbing hold of them, he moved the section of wall away. The chlorine-like odor wafted out, stinging his nose and making his eyes water. Meth was a simple chemical formula, so it could be difficult to pick up sometimes. In theory, the smell could belong to any of a hundred different industrial compounds. But a person didn’t go to all the work of creating a hidden storage compartment on a ship to conceal pool cleaner. Combine a chlorine-like odor with a secret contraband space and you get a meth shipment. While the compartment was big enough to hold three or four large duffle bags, it was empty now. “They knew we were coming,” Zane said from behind him. “Bloody bastards moved the crap right before we got here.” “Put the wall back,” Brooks said. “We’ll let the dogs find the hidey-hole.”

Remy replaced the section of wall with a muttered curse. He’d hoped like hell they’d be able to take down Aaron Lee and his operation. In some stupid way, Remy had convinced himself that sending Lee to prison today would set things right with the poor young girl who’d overdosed the night before. Unless they had better luck in the warehouse, they were going to have to wait a little longer to take down the scumbag.

*** Remy and his pack mates spent over two hours down in the cargo hold helping Lorenzo, his narcotics team, and the drug dogs with their search. As expected, the K-9 team alerted on the back wall of the equipment room, finding the empty hidey-hole. Lorenzo was just as disappointed as Remy and his pack mates had been, especially when a thorough search of the rest of the ship turned up absolutely nothing. The warehouse had come up clean so far too. “I don’t know how, but that son of a bitch Aaron Lee knew we were coming,” Lorenzo said as they headed out of the ship to meet up with Drew. Stocky, with close-cropped black hair, the Hispanic police officer looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. “The asshole saw this coming from a mile away.” Lorenzo was probably right, considering that when they stepped off the ship, they had found a large black Cadillac parked in front of it with Lee and a couple of his goons leaning casually against the fenders. From what Remy remembered, Aaron Lee had grown up

working the docks of the Mississippi. Even though he must be approaching his late fifties and there was some gray in his otherwise dark hair, the man was still built like an ox. He had the bearing of an extremely confident man and the aura of a criminal who’d thumbed his nose at the police in New Orleans longer than most of the cops on this scene had been alive. Seeing the arrogant glare Lee threw their way as they approached him, not to mention his slow and relaxed heartbeat, Remy could understand how the man had maintained his grip on the city’s criminal enterprises for so long. It was obvious the guy had absolutely no fear of the law. Hell, it wouldn’t have come as a shock if they’d discovered the man was a complete psycho who didn’t even know how to feel fear. “Ah, Detective Claiborne,” Lee said, giving Lorenzo an insincere smile that was somehow able to convey both amusement and violence. “I should have guessed it was you violating my civil liberties.” Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. “No one is violating your civil liberties, Mr. Lee. We have a search warrant signed by a judge.” “I saw.” Lee’s lip curled. “One of your fellow jackbooted thugs waved that little piece of paper in my face. Signed by Judge Thibodeau, wasn’t it? Isn’t he running for reelection soon? Seems like a strange campaign plan, sending police to harass a potential voter like myself.” Lorenzo crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to harass you. We’re conducting a search for illegal drugs.”

On either side of him, Lee’s goons let out derisive chuckles. Lorenzo had shown Remy and the other SWAT cops photos of Lee’s personal-security-slash-lieutenants during the mission briefing, and while both men wore similar amused expressions on their ugly mugs, the two couldn’t have been more different. There was Shelton Quinn, a muscle-bound guy easily as big as Brooks. The man had a shaved head and a couple tattoos showing on his arms and neck that looked like they’d been done in a prison or someplace equally primitive. According to Lorenzo, Quinn specialized in physical intimidation and breaking everything from kneecaps and heads to spirits. From the looks of him, it was obvious the guy spent a good portion of his life in the gym, though the sour scent coming off him seemed to indicate at least some of those gains were the results of steroids or something more exotic. The other guy, Chad Roth, was whipcord lean with wiry muscles he liked showing off under a tight athletic shirt. His dark hair was trimmed close to his head, with three parallel lines etched in it above his right ear. The man seemed to have a thing for gold earrings, too. He had three in each lobe that glinted brightly against his dark-brown skin. It wasn’t the unusual hairstyle or the earrings that caught Remy’s attention though. Instead, it was the man’s calculating eyes. As he watched, the thug scanned every cop in front of him— not in a quick, shifty manner, but with an intent look that told Remy the man was memorizing every detail he took in. When Roth got to Remy and his pack mates, his eyes

narrowed at the sight of the DPD patches on the front of their tactical vests. He locked gazes with Remy, staring straight at him. Remy stared back. Lorenzo had said Roth was the smarter of the two lieutenants, and even though he’d only been associated with Lee’s organization for a few years, it was likely he’d take over running the show someday, assuming Lee ever stepped aside. Remy listened with half an ear as Quinn ribbed Lorenzo about how the search for drugs was going, asking if maybe the cops needed some help looking, since it was obvious they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. All the while, Aaron Lee stood there with a smile on his face, letting his lieutenant have his fun with the narcotics detective. Roth slowly slid his gaze from Remy, casually taking in Max, Brooks, and Zane. Remy watched the man’s open perusal, trying to understand the funny vibe he was getting off the guy. Whereas Lee was calm and serene inside, sure the cops weren’t going to get anything off him, and Quinn was a pile of juiced-up energy, getting off on his chance to stick it to the cops, Roth wasn’t putting off anything. He wasn’t merely calm; he was shut off. Like a dead man walking. Remy had never experienced anything quite like it and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it meant the guy was a cold-blooded serial killer. “Search as long as you like, Detective Claiborne,” Lee finally said, interrupting Quinn’s fun. “You’re not going to find anything, but you can be sure that my lawyers will be

talking to the city about the damage you’ve done to my property, as well as the amount of income lost waiting for you and your cop buddies to finish here. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the reimbursement came out of your paycheck.” Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything as Roth opened the back door of the Caddy for Lee. Before climbing in, Lee turned to regard Remy and his pack mates thoughtfully before looking at the narcotics detective. “I always thought you and your people were incompetent, Detective Claiborne, and bringing in outside muscle isn’t going to help you pin something on me.” Lee’s mouth twitched. “Not unless they can sniff for drugs better than your dogs.” With that, Lee climbed into the backseat of the car. Roth went around to the passenger side while Quinn got behind the wheel. As he started the engine, Quinn gave Remy and his pack mates an amused look. “Ruff, ruff, little doggies. Ruff, ruff.” Beside Remy, Max growled under his breath. “You wouldn’t be laughing if I sank my little doggy fangs in that steroid-filled ass of yours,” he said as Quinn drove away. “You can bite his ass if you want,” Remy said softly. “Me? I’m going for his fucking throat.”

Chapter 5 The sun was just going down as Remy headed to the voodoo shop to pick up Triana for dinner. He still couldn’t stop seething about how badly the raid had gone. They’d stayed at the docks for another three and a half hours after Aaron Lee had left, checking every little nook and cranny of the warehouse and the cargo ship. As Lee had predicted, they’d found nothing. And while the drug dogs had alerted on several places within the warehouse, they hadn’t found any actual crystal meth. It was frustrating as hell, too. Not only because they knew Lee had slipped the meth out shortly before they’d gotten there, but also because the man had been so damn snide about the whole frigging thing. Lorenzo had promised them this wasn’t over, that Lee would have to store the meth somewhere in the city until he could get around to breaking it down into smaller packages. “Breaking that much ice down and stuffing it into baggies is going to be a slow process,” the detective added. “My informant will get word to us soon, I can promise you that, so keep your phones on. When we get the next warrant, I

want to move fast.” Remy prayed Lorenzo was right, but he wasn’t holding out much hope. Lee hadn’t gotten where he was by being sloppy. He shoved those thoughts away as he opened the door to Gemma’s shop. The one thing he didn’t want to do was ruin his evening with Triana because he had a bad taste in his mouth over failing to bust Aaron Lee. He’d been looking forward to spending time with her all day. The moment he walked inside and breathed in Triana’s scent, it was like a heavy, wet blanket lifted off his shoulders. Everything seemed lighter and he found thoughts of Aaron Lee and his freaky lieutenants fading away. “There you are,” Gemma said, coming out from behind the counter to give him a hug. “I was worried that if you didn’t get here soon, Triana would primp until she passed out. That girl has been working it in front of that mirror upstairs for nearly two hours.” “Mom!” Triana scolded from the top of the stairs. “Don’t tell him that.” Gemma laughed, her dark eyes dancing as Triana started down the steps. “Why not? I’m just subtly letting Remy know how much effort you put into this date, so he makes sure to properly show his appreciation.” Remy laughed, but the moment Triana’s bare legs came into view on the staircase, her smooth, light-brown skin flexing as she carefully descended each step in her heels, the sound caught in his throat. The sight of her in the flowing yellow sleeveless dress was enough to ramp his heart rate

up to the danger zone. Combined with her long, wavy hair, smoky makeup, and flowery perfume that accentuated her natural scent, the complete package was almost enough to make his heart stop beating altogether. Damn, damn, and double damn! Right then he was as sure as heaven above that he’d never met another woman as beautiful as Triana Bellamy. She held his gaze as she sidled over to him, her head cocked to one side, the tip of her tongue just touching the center of her upper lip. All at once, her heart sped up and her body put off the most delicious aroma on the planet. It was the same scent of arousal that had surrounded her last night as they’d kissed. The mere hint of it made him go hard in his jeans. The idea of saying the hell with dinner and heading straight for “dessert” was suddenly the only thing he could think about. His fingers itched to scoop her up and carry her back upstairs. He might have done it, too, if Gemma hadn’t spoken. “Cold shower, anyone?” she asked, a knowing smile curving her lips. Triana blushed. “Mom!” Gemma only laughed as she went behind the counter. Even though Triana still smelled as delectable as before, her mother’s words had achieved their desired effect. The trance Remy had been in was broken, and while he was still aroused as all hell, at least he was back in control. Another minute and he would have been panting. Remy took a deep breath, then cautiously walked over to Triana, moving slowly to make sure he wouldn’t go all wolf

and jump on her. Fortunately, while his hard-on definitely seemed to approve of getting closer to the object of its affection, nothing crazy happened. Unable to resist touching her, he ran his fingers down her arm. “You ready for dinner?” Triana nodded, casually intertwining her fingers with his. Remy stifled a groan. Damn, even that simple touch felt good. A little voice in the back of his head suggested his intense reaction to something as vanilla as holding hands probably meant something significant, but he shoved it back in the cluttered closet of his mind, and it shut up. “Definitely,” Triana said, completely missing the fact that he was temporarily caught up in a distracting internal dialogue. “I’m starving.” He motioned toward the door. “After you,” he said, enjoying the way her hips swayed as she walked in front of him. “Good night, Mom,” Triana said over her shoulder as Remy opened the door for her. “I’ll probably be out late, so you don’t need to wait up.” Gemma laughed. “Have fun, you two.” Triana’s hand found Remy’s again as soon as they were out on the sidewalk, and he tugged her a little closer so he could enjoy the way their arms brushed against each other as they walked. Neither of them said anything for a while, instead simply enjoying the pleasure of being in each other’s company. Considering how keyed up he’d been just a few minutes ago, it was kind of amazing how relaxed he was now that he was with Triana. Sexually aroused, yes, but

pretty chill other than that. “The weather is so perfect tonight,” she finally said. “It’s hard to believe that stupid storm is still out there in the Gulf.” “Tell me about it,” Remy said. “I checked the weather before coming to pick you up. Ophelia barely moved more than a mile today and the so-called experts still don’t have any idea whether it will keep moving toward Texas or turn toward Louisiana. At least it’s not getting any stronger, which is good. But as far as where it will make landfall, they’re pretty much in wait-and-see mode.” Triana smiled at him. “Well, at least we know she’s not coming this way tonight, so there’s nothing to get in the way of our dinner date.” He paused midstride to lean in for a quick kiss that ended up being not all that quick as he got a taste of her lips. His cock hardened even more at the slight hint of her tongue, and he had to remind himself that they were on a public street. If they hadn’t been, he might have been tempted to pin her up against the nearest wall and go exploring under that flowing yellow dress. “Absolutely nothing to get in the way of our dinner date,” he agreed after pulling away to get his breath back. They walked along again in silence for another block or so until Triana spoke. “Speaking of dinner, are we going anywhere in particular?” “I made reservations for us at Muriel’s, if that’s okay with you?” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m not going to

complain if you want to take me to Muriel’s, but you know we don’t have to go somewhere that fancy, right?” He smiled. “I know. But I thought since this is kind of a reunion dinner, it should be kind of special. Like you.” Triana’s lips curved. “Remy Boudreaux, you got all smooth on me in your absence, didn’t you? You realize flattery really will get you everywhere, don’t you?” He chuckled and nudged her shoulder with his. “Promises, promises.” “Actually, it is a promise. But I think you already knew that.” Remy felt his jeans tighten uncomfortably and his heart rate climb back up at the heat in her gaze. Damn, she was going to drive him insane before they even made it to dinner. “So, how was your cross-training with the local SWAT team today?” Triana asked, as if she wanted to tease him by making him think about normal crap instead of what she might be promising. He stuck a crowbar in the recesses of his mind and forced it to change gears. “Training was good, though it was cut a little short.” “What happened?” she asked as they turned down a side street and headed toward Jackson Square. “Nothing bad, I hope?” He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. NOPD SWAT got called out to support a search warrant on a drug operation, and we went out to help them. It ended up taking the entire rest of the day.”

Triana’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait. I thought you were just here to do some training. You went out to serve a drug warrant?” Remy heard her heart thump louder in her chest, this time for all the wrong reasons, and he realized he probably should have kept that piece of reality to himself. Triana might be involved in law enforcement back in Houston, but that didn’t mean she was okay with all aspects of it. “It wasn’t anything crazy,” he said, hoping to downplay any danger. “An informant said a shipment of meth was coming in on a boat, but by the time we got there, the guy had already moved the stuff. It was all a big waste of time.” That seemed to mollify her somewhat, but she was still regarding him seriously. “You might be doing more of these kinds of things while you’re here in New Orleans…going out on real calls?” “It’s my job.” “I know,” she said quickly. “I just thought you’d be doing training this week. I mean, I didn’t even think you’d have jurisdiction here in New Orleans.” “My boss took care of all that before we came,” Remy said. “He didn’t want us put in a position where we needed to do something and not have the authority to do it. There was a lot of paperwork, but we’re completely legit in the city for this week. But I promise you, my guys from Dallas are the best SWAT officers in the country, and we always take care of each other.” Triana thought about that for a while. “This is probably going to sound stupid, but you’re always careful, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. And like I said, our number-one rule is to always watch out for each other.” She relaxed a little at that, but her heart was still beating a little faster than normal and he could feel the tension in her body. He regretted bringing up the drug raid, but there was no way to take it back. They continued for another block in comfortable silence before Triana surprised him by asking for more details about what the raid had entailed. Remy took his time and laid out not just what he’d done today, but also what a typical search warrant operation was like. He stayed away from details she didn’t need to know, like the fact that they’d been trying to take down Aaron Lee. Triana listened carefully but also asked a lot of pointed and intelligent questions. Remy was showing her how he and his guys communicated during operations using nothing but hand signals when they passed a club with bright, shiny lights and a gaudy sign advertising open mic karaoke every night. Apparently, the sign wasn’t lying, since Remy could already hear the most god-awful voice butchering “Beast of Burden” by the Rolling Stones. It was one of the rare times in all his years as a werewolf that Remy was sorry he had such good hearing. The noise coming out of the open door was actually painful to listen to. But it wasn’t the crap sound from the place that made him stop and take a second look. He was sure he recognized the club, though he wasn’t sure why it was familiar. Then it struck him. It wasn’t the appearance of the building—it was

the address. He looked up and down the street a couple times to be sure, because it had been eight years since he’d seen the place last. “Hey. Isn’t this where your dad’s place, the Jazz Joint, used to be?” Remy asked, sure he had to be wrong. He remembered going to her dad’s club for dinner when he was in high school and had always thought the place had a cool, laid-back vibe. Nothing like this garish mess they were standing in front of now. The reputation of the club had been so good that well-known jazz musicians would show up all the time just for a chance to play there. But with the bellowing coming out the door combined with the cheap signage, he couldn’t imagine any respectable musician even wanting to walk on the same side of the street as this place. Triana nodded sadly, not looking at the karaoke club as they walked past. She even tugged his hand a little so he’d quicken his pace as they moved down the street, clearly unwilling to spend any more time than necessary near the place that occupied where her dad’s old club had been. Remy could understand that. “After Dad’s death, Mom tried to keep it going,” Triana said, and Remy could almost taste her grief on the air. “Sort of in his memory…you know? She tried to get a partner, but no one was willing. Some people didn’t like the idea of working in a place where such a horrible murder had happened. Others simply pointed out that it simply wasn’t going to work. Dad didn’t just run the Jazz Joint; he was its heart and soul. Without his charisma and energy, the old

building seemed like an empty shell. The people who used to play there wouldn’t come back. Mom said it was because the magic was gone.” Triana fell silent as they crossed a street. Her father’s murder had been two years ago, but it was obvious the pain was as raw and upsetting as if it had happened yesterday. Remy squeezed her hand, trying to let her know without words that she didn’t need to talk about it but that he was there for her if she wanted to. Rufus Bellamy had always been such a larger-than-life character—big, strong, loud, loving. Remy remembered him as this huge guy with muscles he’d gotten working on the docks of New Orleans as a young man, humping cargo and loading ships. He’d had a wild head of shaggy blond hair and a mustache to match. Everyone knew Rufus had lived part of his life on the wrong side of the law, but in a city like this, that wasn’t necessarily the stigma it might have been in other parts of the country. The man had been out of that life for a while by the time Remy had met him. As far as Remy was concerned, Triana’s dad had been a faithful husband and loving father. But at the same time, Remy understood where Rufus Bellamy had come from. He loved to laugh and have fun like anyone else, but he was also a man no one wanted to mess with unless they wanted to know what it felt like to be beaten to a bloody pulp. It was hard to believe that a man as powerful and full of life as Triana’s father was gone. He’d been a rare kind of person.

“Mom finally ended up selling the club,” Triana said after a few blocks. “While neither of us wanted to keep the place after my dad’s murder, it still sucks seeing the jazz club he poured his heart and soul into become a karaoke bar. It’s almost like blasphemy.” “After hearing whoever was singing as we walked by the place, I agree,” Remy said. “But I’m pretty sure your dad wouldn’t be that upset. As I recall, he used to get up and sing with some of the musicians who came in…and he was pretty awful. That never kept him from doing it, though. I think he’d be fine with people singing in his old club as long as they’re having a good time.” Triana stared at him for a moment, then a big smile spread across her face. “You know something, I think you’re exactly right. Don’t tell Mom I said this, but if Dad ever came back as a ghost, I could imagine him standing up at that karaoke mic, butchering songs with the best of them.” They laughed at that image, and before long, they were telling each other all the stories they remembered about Rufus Bellamy—and there were a lot of them. By the time they reached Muriel’s over on Saint Ann, Triana’s mood had lightened considerably and they were back to the playful, sexy banter that had started off their date. With its red brick and white wood trim, the two-story building on the edge of Jackson Square known as Muriel’s Bistro was a beautiful structure. The building on the corner of Saint Ann and Chartres had been in existence in one form or another practically since the founding of the city, and the owners of the restaurant had invested a lot money into

lovingly restoring the place to its mid-1800s grandeur. The best thing about Muriel’s—beyond the amazing food, of course—was the ambience. There was something about the blend of mid-nineteenth-century French charm, the New Orleans mystique, and the Southern hospitality that really worked for this place. How many other restaurants maintained a reserved table for a ghost? It was true. The place kept a table set with wine and bread for the ghost of Pierre Jourdan, one of the restaurant’s previous owners. Remy didn’t miss the way men’s heads turned to follow Triana as the hostess led them across the main red-andyellow-decorated dining room and seated them at a table for two in the back corner. While he was surprised at the spike of jealousy that rushed through him, not to mention the animalistic urge to turn and snarl at the gawkers, he couldn’t blame the men whose gazes were drawn to Triana’s hypnotic beauty. He certainly was as well. The hostess took their wine orders, then mentioned the name of their server and left them alone. Even though the dining room was crowded, the alcove where they were seated offered them a little privacy. Not that it mattered. Triana was so alluring it was like there was no one else around. “So, what are the other guys from Dallas up to while you’re out wooing me tonight?” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes. He chuckled. “Wooing? Is that what I’m doing? I thought I was taking you out for dinner.” She flashed him a smile. “I could have had dinner at home.

I came out with you tonight because I’m expecting much more than food.” Remy felt a crazy vibration start in his gut at the teasing, playful look she gave him. Gaze locked with his, she licked her full lips, tracing her nimble tongue over them in a gesture that was innocent and sexy at the same time. The heat that had come with that earlier vibration spread from his stomach in a distinctly southerly direction. Sitting this close, it was impossible to miss the pheromones rolling off her—or to be immune to them. That’s when he knew the night was going to be very special. “Are you the kind of woman who likes to be wooed?” he asked, his voice sounding a little deeper as his inner wolf attempted to come out and play. He casually looked over at his fingers where they rested on the table to make sure his claws hadn’t slipped out. Thankfully, they hadn’t. “All women like to be wooed and charmed and appreciated,” she said softly, tilting her head and looking at him in a way that made his inner wolf growl a little louder in hunger. “If the man doing those things is the right man.” He grinned. “I hope I’m the right man.” Triana leaned forward a little. “Well, if it helps, you’re definitely on the right track so far.” They were forced to put their flirting on temporary hold as their server arrived to introduce herself and deliver their glasses of wine. The woman gave them the standard pitch about house specials and chef recommendations, but since he and Triana were more interested in each other than in

dinner, they ignored all the appetizers, soups, and salads and headed straight for the main entrées. He ordered the filet of beef while Triana chose the sautéed salmon. It wasn’t like they could go wrong with anything they picked because everything was good there. “You never did answer my question,” Triana reminded him after the waitress left. “What are your friends up to?” Remy sipped his wine. “They said something earlier today about heading to the French Quarter again.” “You’re not sorry we didn’t go out with them, are you?” she asked teasingly. “We could always give them a call and meet up with them later if you want.” His mouth twitched. “No, thanks. I’m good. Don’t get me wrong. I’m closer to the members of my SWAT team than most people are with their families, but tonight, I’d much rather spend time with you instead of them.” “Good answer. You really are skilled at this wooing thing,” she said with a smile. “But I have to admit, you have me intrigued. I saw the way you guys acted with each other last night, so I could already tell you’re tight with them. You obviously spend a lot of time with them outside of work.” “Yeah, I hang out with them a lot,” he said, trying to figure out how to put what he wanted to say into words that made sense. It wasn’t like he could tell her he was a member of a wolf pack that spent just about every waking minute together. “The men and women on our team are kind of like a family—closer than most families, actually. It’s kind of hard to explain, but doing the job we do tends to make for a

pretty tight bond.” Triana regarded him over the rim of her wineglass. “There are women on your SWAT team? Do I need to be jealous?” “I don’t know,” he said, unable to resist teasing her. “Are you the kind of woman who gets jealous at the idea of a man she’s seeing working with another woman?” She hesitated, seeming to think about it. After a moment, she frowned thoughtfully. “Normally, I’m not. But in this case, I find myself feeling somewhat…possessive.” While there was a part of him that felt a trace of alarm at what Triana’s jealousy meant, a more practical portion was quick to point out he’d been a little possessive himself a few minutes earlier when half the guys in the dining room had twisted their heads around like Linda Blair in The Exorcist to follow Triana’s movements across the room. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, as his grandmother used to say. As to what all that jealousy meant, he and Triana were sexually attracted to each other. The primitive part of them that wanted to get naked and nasty was sure to express itself in other ways, such as in her knee-jerk jealous reaction to him working with women and his desire to bite the men who were ballsy enough to stare at her ass. “Well, in this case, you have no reason to feel possessive,” he told her. “There’s only one woman on the Dallas SWAT team and she’s off-limits. Beyond the fact that I think of her as a sister, she’s in a serious, committed relationship with another member of the team. They’d probably be married by now if it wasn’t for the fact that they have to hide their

relationship from the brass.” Triana did a double take. “Wait a second. Two members of your SWAT team are sleeping together and the rest of you are covering for them?” He shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.” Their food came then, interrupting their conversation. Remy was glad, because he definitely didn’t want to get into the fact that the only woman on the Dallas SWAT team was in a relationship with her own squad leader. For someone like Triana, who worked in the law enforcement community, that little detail might be difficult to accept. It wasn’t as if he could tell Triana that bonding with one’s soul mate threw all the normal rules of society straight out the window. Remy speared a piece of steak with his fork and tasted it. As he’d expected, the food was amazing. Triana seemed to approve of the salmon she’d ordered as well, if the little moan she let out was any indication. As she nibbled another piece of fish off her fork, Remy discovered he enjoyed watching her eat. He was as orally fixated as the next guy, and seeing her lips close over the fork and her mouth move as she slowly chewed was an erotic experience. Then again, almost anything Triana did would probably be a turn-on, considering he seemed to have it rather bad for her at the moment. She must have seen him staring at her lips as she chewed, because she gave him a sultry smile. “Are you watching me eat?” He contemplated denying it but changed his mind. What would be the point?

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. But you have a very sensual mouth and I have a hard time watching it move without thinking all kinds of things I shouldn’t be.” “That’s a pity,” she murmured, returning her attention to her salmon and field pea succotash. “What’s a pity?” he asked, hoping she’d clarify her words. “That I find your mouth so sensual, or that I have completely naughty thoughts when I watch it move?” Triana lifted her head to look at him, then slowly and carefully ate another bite of fish, clearly savoring it. When she finished up by licking her lips, he was relatively sure everyone in the dining room could hear the thump his hardon made as it smacked the underside of the table. “I think it’s a pity you don’t feel comfortable enough with me to talk about those naughty thoughts,” she said as she sipped her wine. “I’d enjoy hearing every one of them in slow, exquisite detail.” Remy’s fingers tingled and he quickly slid his hands under the tablecloth to hide the fact that his claws had slipped out. Damn, this woman was dangerous. He flexed his fingers a few times until his claws retracted. Crisis averted—for now at least. “I guess I’ll have to be bolder, then,” he said. “I’m sure that by the time we have dessert, I won’t be able to keep my thoughts to myself anymore.” Triana smiled. “Good, because I thought we could go to Café du Monde for beignets and coffee after dinner. I just love the way that powdered sugar sprinkled over the top of

them gets absolutely everywhere.” That vivid image of her covered in powdered sugar was almost enough to have Remy calling for the check. But he resisted, knowing this night of extended verbal foreplay was only getting started. He might have a difficult time walking with an erection, but he had no problem stretching the evening out, if for no other reason than the anticipation would make the end of the night even better. So, as difficult as it was for him to think about anything other than the image of Triana covered in powdered sugar, he did his best to move the conversation toward another topic. “In a blatant and obvious change of subject, how do you like living and working in Houston?” he asked, spearing another piece of steak. Triana laughed but otherwise didn’t bat an eye, smoothly shifting gears from sultry to casual with the agility of a Ferrari—she’d always possessed a quick and clever mind, even back in high school. “Well, there’s no one in the crime lab sneaking around sleeping together, so it’s not as exciting as your team, but I still enjoy it,” she said with a smile. “It’s extremely satisfying being able to use my science background to do something meaningful.” “Do you ever get a chance to go into the field and work an active crime scene?” He’d seen techs collecting evidence in the field in Dallas all the time, but he didn’t know much about how crime labs were organized in other police departments. She shrugged. “Sometimes. We have a team of trained

crime scene investigators who do most of that work, though. I’ve had the chance to go out a few times, when there was something special the police wanted us to check for or if investigators wanted us to actually conduct a test in the field. But to tell the truth, I prefer the safe and cozy confines of my lab. Call me a wuss, but I’m an analyst, not a cop.” Remy laughed. “That’s not being a wuss. That’s being smart.” They talked some more about the kind of work she did before moving on to other personal topics, such as where she lived, what she did for fun, and what her social life was like. “Is that your roundabout way of asking me if I’m dating anyone?” she asked in a playful tone. He put on a shocked expression even though she was right. He hadn’t intended to ask her something like that, but it had kind of slipped out. “Of course not,” he lied. “I would never ask anything so personal. I’m just concerned you might be one of those scientist types who’s always getting so wrapped up in their work that they forget to take care of themselves.” The smile she gave him made him think she wasn’t buying it. “Well, that’s really sweet of you to worry about me like that, but you don’t need to. There’s a lawyer in Houston I see on and off. It’s nothing serious, but he keeps me from getting too wrapped up in work.” Remy couldn’t help wondering if she was messing with him just to get a reaction. Well, it worked. He and Triana

were merely hanging out for the week while they were in New Orleans, and yet he was bothered by the idea of her with another guy. Feeling a little spike of jealousy when anonymous men watched her walk across the room was one thing, but getting pissed at a man she might or might not be seeing, even on and off, was insane. Maybe so, but the sensation was there, and it was frigging real. Suddenly, he was sorry he’d asked her the question in the first place. It had been better not knowing. “What about you?” Triana asked, setting her fork and knife on her empty plate. “Is there anyone back in Dallas you see now and then to get your mind off work?” Alarm bells went off as Triana’s flirty tone changed to something more serious. He realized he was about to step into a potential minefield and there was nothing he could do about it. “Me?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not really seeing anyone seriously at the moment. In fact, I haven’t been on a date in a long time.” Remy held his breath, expecting Triana to call him out. It wasn’t that he was lying. He honestly hadn’t been on a date in years—but that was only because he tended to limit his social contact to women who didn’t use the word date. Hookup was probably a better term to go with, though he doubted Triana would appreciate the difference. “Good answer,” she said with a smile. “Ready for those beignets now?”

***

As they walked out of Muriel’s and headed for Café du Monde, Triana’s legs felt a little wobbly. So okay, she was turned on. She supposed an hour and a half of nearly nonstop flirting could do that to a girl. She’d gone out with guys who could talk a good game before, but nothing like Remy. Bottom line, the man possessed a way with words that made her think he could make her panties wet simply by reading a dictionary to her. Between his clever banter and smooth-as-honey voice, she was ready to skip dessert and head straight to the nearest available horizontal surface. Heck, she wasn’t even sure if the horizontal part was a definite requirement. She could think of a few standing positions that might work just as well. It was only a short walk to Café du Monde, but they took their time anyway, slowly strolling hand-in-hand along the edges of Jackson Square, admiring the artwork set out for sale along the sidewalk. Triana discovered she and Remy had similar taste in art, both of them drawn to bold colors and strong lines. She wasn’t surprised. It was becoming more obvious to her with every passing moment that there was a serious connection between her and Remy. A few days ago, she would have said the idea was crazy, but right then, she had to admit maybe her mother was right. Maybe the magic of New Orleans had had a hand in bringing her and Remy together after so many years apart. From the moment Remy had picked her up that night, Triana had felt the crazy sexual spark that seemed to exist between them growing brighter. Within seconds of coming

downstairs, she’d gotten all warm and tingly. From that point on, every touch, every heated glance, every innuendofilled sentence had only turned her on more. Right then, she was more aroused than she’d ever been in her life. As turned on as she was, she could almost believe Remy could actually give her an orgasm without ever touching her. In theory, something like that shouldn’t be scientifically possible. Then again, science couldn’t explain just how perfect Remy Boudreaux was, either. As they stopped to admire another street vendor’s artwork, Triana glanced at Remy, unable to help herself. With that dark-blond hair, those expressive hazel eyes, and his square jaw with just a hint of stubble, he was more attractive than any man she’d ever met, not to mention had a body that was so well-built it was practically sinful. He was also fun to hang out with, interesting to talk to, and unbelievably charming. Individually, any of those qualities would have been enough to make Remy amazing; but beyond all of those, there was something else about him that made her want to swoon like the Southern belles of olden days. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was or even understand it. All she knew for sure was that Remy was perfect for her. Café du Monde was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and since it was a popular tourist attraction, it was usually also extremely crowded. However, in what had to be the strangest customer service concept on the planet, they expected people to find their own tables. There were multiple entrances into the covered seating area with signs

everywhere pointing that out. Yet, while many locals walked in and found their own tables, most of the tourists found a line and got in it. Fortunately, the lines weren’t too long at the moment, so Triana didn’t feel too bad about grabbing a table while the tourists stood there waiting for someone to tell them what to do. The moment she and Remy sat, a waitress came over to grab the plates, mugs, and money left by the previous customers, then took their orders. “Two orders of beignets,” Remy said to the waitress, then looked at Triana. “Hot milk?” When she nodded, Remy finished their order. “Two coffees. One au lait, one black with sugar.” The waitress nodded but didn’t write anything down. No notepads or menus at Café du Monde—it wasn’t that kind of place. After the woman left, Triana couldn’t help smiling at Remy. “So you like your coffee strong, black, and sweet, huh?” He returned her smile with a sexy grin. “I’m not even going there.” She laughed. He was no fun. She’d really wanted to tease him about the connection between his taste in coffee and women. She rested her forearms on the small table and leaned closer. “I’m surprised you agreed to come here for dessert.” “Why are you surprised? I love this place.” She shrugged and reached out to trace a finger over one of his bulging biceps, enjoying his sudden intake of breath. Not only did it let her know that he liked it when she touched

him, but it also made his pecs flex under his shirt. “It seems obvious you work out a lot.” She ran her finger down the rolled-up sleeve of his button-down, along his strong forearm, all the way to the top of his big hand. “I thought you might worry about blowing your diet and all.” He chuckled, flipping his hand over so fast she didn’t see it move, capturing hers and caressing it casually with his thumb. “Are you kidding? I’m a cop. I practically live on doughnuts.” She lifted a brow, seriously doubting that. “Yeah right,” she laughed. “Next, you’ll be telling me you have Dunkin’ Donuts on speed dial.” Triana was pretty sure he hadn’t eaten a doughnut, or any other kind of junk food, since high school. His kitchen probably didn’t have anything in it but whole grains and protein shakes. She was okay with that, especially if it gave him a body like the one he had. “As a matter fact…” Remy let the words trail off as he glided the fingers of his other hand up and down her forearm. His touch made her skin tingle everywhere—and she did mean everywhere. She would have squirmed in her chair, but he was holding her hand too firmly. Did he even realize how much she enjoyed what he was doing? Probably not. Guys could be so oblivious. “So you’re not worried about your diet at all, huh?” she managed. The light from the streetlamp outside caught his eyes, making them glint gold. “Something tells me I’m going to be working off a lot of calories before the night is over.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Are you going jogging or something?” Triana couldn’t help teasing him just a little. Verbally fencing with Remy was such a heady turn-on. “Or something.” His mouth quirked. “I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be doing, but I have no doubt it will be strenuous, get my heart rate going, and probably last most of the night.” “That sounds like a lot of exercise.” He gave her a slow, sexy grin. “When I exercise, I like it to last for a very long time.” The thought made Triana’s breath catch. Oh yeah, Remy could definitely flirt better than any other man she’d ever met. “Maybe we can exercise together, then,” she murmured softly. “I love a long, exhausting workout myself.” Remy opened his mouth to say something, but the waitress appeared with a tray of beignets and cups of coffee. Café du Monde apparently owned stock in powdered sugar because they absolutely drowned their doughy treats in the stuff. Some might consider it a ridiculous amount of sugar. Triana thought it was perfect. As she and Remy ate, they talked about how much Remy and his teammates from Dallas actually worked out. He claimed they maintained the bodies they had with as little as two hours of exercise per day. “Sometimes we lift weights when there isn’t much going on around the compound,” he added. “But that’s pretty rare.”

True to his word, Remy ate all three of the beignets on his plate and two of Triana’s. She gladly let him, because while he supposedly didn’t have to work very hard to look the way he did, she certainly did. If she was going to be exercising later, she didn’t want to do it on a full stomach. Besides, if she’d be getting naked with a man who looked like Remy, she wanted to measure up. She’d finished the last of her beignet and was sipping her coffee when Remy smiled and motioned at her mouth. “You have a little powdered sugar on your lips,” he said. She blushed. Of course she did. It was impossible to eat beignets at Café du Monde and not get sugar everywhere. She quickly grabbed one of the little paper napkins the waitress had given them and patted it over her lips, then gave Remy an embarrassed smile. “Better?” “Not quite,” he said. “Here, let me.” She expected him to reach over and dab at her lips with a napkin. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her. Not one of those sweet, innocent, we’re-in-public kind of pecks, but one that made her quiver all over. Triana slid her fingers into his short hair, pulling him closer and returning the kiss with all the passion and arousal that had been building the entire evening. She moaned softly as Remy’s tongue slipped into her mouth. The sweetness from the sugar and beignets along with the spice from the coffee and chicory all mixed with his unique masculine flavor, and the combination was intoxicating. When he finally lifted his head, he hesitated just a moment

to swipe his tongue over the corner of her lips, making sure he got all the powdered sugar off. Not that she cared why he did it. By then she was so aroused she was ready to climb onto his lap and devour him. Triana gripped the edge of the table, holding on to it for dear life as she fought to get herself under control. She’d never been kissed like that before, and while she wasn’t completely sure if it was possible to orgasm from a kiss, it was pretty darn close. “So, did that do it?” she asked softly, and she sure as hell wasn’t referring to getting all the powdered sugar off her lips. Remy’s hazel eyes glinted. “Yeah, it did. Are you ready to get out of here now?” She smiled. “Finally. I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 6 Triana didn’t remember much about the walk across the French Quarter with Remy. She vaguely recalled stopping along the way to make out a few times. Okay, maybe more than a few. Overall, she was very proud that she was able to keep her hands mostly to herself until they reached his hotel. Her willpower gave out on the elevator ride up to his fourteenth-floor room. The moment the doors closed on the lobby level, she was in his arms kissing him. Remy buried one hand in her hair even as the other slid down her back to pull her closer. She sighed as his hard-on pressed against her tummy through their clothes. It made her feel insanely good knowing she was getting to him the same way he was getting to her. She wanted him so badly right then it hurt. Refusing to be a passive player in their game, Triana reached up and twisted her fingers in his hair, yanking his mouth down harder onto hers, tangling her tongue with his and giving as good as she got. As they kissed, she let her free hand roam over his shoulders and down the front of his

shirt, thrilled at the feeling of his strength under her fingers. In the space between two heartbeats, Remy urged her backward until she was up against the wall of the elevator. His hardness was even more evident in this position and she moaned at the thought of what he would look like naked. The hand that had been on her back moved slowly down her hip, until it was sliding up and down her right thigh, teasing her little yellow dress up higher and higher. Remy could have yanked the thing off if he’d wanted and she wouldn’t have stopped him. But just as she felt the tips of his warm, strong fingers on the bare skin of her thigh, the elevator suddenly stopped with a ding. She barely had time to understand what was going on before Remy pulled down her dress and broke the kiss, then spun her around so she was standing in front of him. A moment later, the doors slid open and an elderly couple stepped onto the elevator. The couple smiled at them, thankfully oblivious to what had just been taking place a few seconds earlier. She waited for the couple to press the button for their floor, but they merely stood there as the elevator went up. That was when she realized the couple was riding up to the fourteen floor with them. At the same time, it also dawned on her that Remy had positioned her in front of him to hide his erection, which was currently poking her in the bottom. She probably should have been on her best behavior since there was another couple around, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little by pressing her ass against his obvious arousal. Then she wiggled a bit to make sure he wouldn’t

miss it. Remy let out what sounded suspiciously like a growl. It was soft and his nose was buried in her hair, but she heard it. Judging by their expressions as the doors of the elevator opened on the fourteenth floor, the older couple heard it too. They quickly exited and turned left, while Remy took Triana’s hand and urged her to the right. His room was at the end of the hall. One fast swipe of the key card and they were inside. Remy locked the door behind them and flicked on the lights, then pinned her against the nearest wall. “You are so naughty,” he murmured, his mouth tracing along her jaw, driving her crazy and making her tremble all over. “I know,” she breathed. “I couldn’t stop myself. For some reason, I don’t seem to have much control over myself when you’re around.” He pulled back and looked at her for a long moment, then flashed her a sexy smile. “I can’t say that’s a bad thing, necessarily, at least from my perspective.” Triana opened her mouth to say something witty in reply, but his warm mouth came down on her neck and started to nibble before she could. She rested her head back against the wall with a moan, then quickly bit her lip as she remembered they were in a hotel full of people. She was going to have to keep the noise to a minimum. Remy clearly wasn’t going to make it easy on her, she thought, inhaling sharply as he nipped her shoulder with his teeth. Okay, she’d never had a guy do that before. But as

tingles of pleasure rippled through the rest of her body, she decided she’d been missing out. She wasn’t sure when Remy got his hands on the hem of her sundress, but one moment he was doing crazy things to her neck, and the next he was dragging the material over her head. He was even able to get her tiny purse off her shoulder without tying her up in it. Before she knew it, she was standing in the entryway of his hotel room wearing nothing but her skimpy bra, a tiny pair of panties, and her strappy high heels. She was about to make a comment about him being as smooth at undressing her as he was at talking, but the words got stuck in her throat when she caught sight of the hunger on his face. He looked like he wanted to eat her up. She started to reach behind her back for the clasp on her bra, more than ready to get completely naked in front of him, but Remy caught her hand. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to look at you.” She should have been self-conscious standing there against the wall in her underwear while a guy ogled her, but the way Remy gazed at her, drinking her in like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, made her believe she actually was. Locking eyes with her, he stepped closer and leaned one hand against the wall beside her head. A playful smile curving his mouth, he lifted his free hand and traced a finger down her half-naked body, starting at her neck, then gliding along the edges of her delicate bra, before skimming over her taut abs to tease the waistband of her panties. She

sagged into the wall, her body pulsing all over from his touch. When Remy finally took her hand and led her over to the bed, Triana realized she’d never been more ready to sleep with anyone. She generally followed a basic rule when it came to having sex with a guy. It wasn’t as rigid as one of those three-date things, though. She simply liked to get to know a man before letting sex cloud the situation. But she had known Remy long before running into him at that club last night. In some crazy way, it was like she’d been waiting for this moment since high school. The idea that they needed to slow down and take their time was silly. If anything, she was kicking herself for not looking Remy up years ago. If she had, she could have been with this amazing guy all along. When they stopped by the bed, Triana unbuttoned his shirt, dragging it out of his pants at the same time, then tossing it aside. Remembering how he’d gazed at her earlier, she took her time admiring the perfection that was Remy Boudreaux. Damn, he was sinfully gorgeous. Triana moved closer, slowly running her hands over his thick pecs, sculpted deltoids, and oh-so-lickable abs, then back up again. She slowed so she could examine the tattoo on the left side of his chest. He was so tall that it was practically at eye level for her. The tattoo was a shaggyheaded wolf with intense eyes. Above the wolf, the word SWAT stood out in strong, bold letters. Even though she knew very little about tattoos, she knew enough to

recognize that this one was exquisitely done. She leaned forward to trace her lips along the lines of the wolf-head tattoo, smiling as his muscles trembled in response to her touch. Clearly he liked it when she did that. She’d have to make a note of it. While the SWAT part of the ink was self-explanatory, she wasn’t quite sure what the wolf represented. She opened her mouth to ask him what the deal was with it when she caught sight of a scar on the right side of his chest, almost directly above his nipple. There was a star-shaped indentation in the middle with three long, straight lines radiating from the center of it. As she moved closer—disguising her inspection by kissing and nibbling along the way—she realized the lines had tiny, almost imperceptible dots on either side of them. Working in a medical examiner’s office, she immediately recognized the dots as marks left by surgical staples. She was tempted to ask him when the injury had occurred but decided against it. Now was definitely not the best time to discuss a subject like that, not when they were in the process of getting naked and naughty. Setting her curiosity aside for the moment, she focused her attention on the man in front of her instead of his scar. That wasn’t difficult to do. Remy was absolutely mesmerizing. Gliding her hands down his abs, she got her fingers in his belt and began unbuckling it. He helped, kicking off his shoes and shoving down his pants. She was pleased to see that his legs were just as muscular

and sexy as the rest of him. In fact, there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t hunky. If the bulge in his underwear was any indication, things were only going to get better. With a groan, Remy tugged her close and kissed her, his mouth making her dizzy as his hands slipped around behind her to undo the hooks on her bra. The garment went sailing and then she was reveling in the sensation of her sensitive nipples rubbing against his muscular chest. She was so busy moaning against his mouth she almost missed it when his hands slid down her back and skimmed her panties over her hips. If it wasn’t for the wetness grazing the inside of her thighs as the tiny scrap of material fell to the floor, she probably wouldn’t even have known she was completely naked. Remy’s big hands returned to her ass, squeezing and massaging, making her whimper. She pulled away to look at him. “Okay, full disclosure time. I really like when you touch my butt.” He gave her a wicked smile as he tightened his grip on her bottom. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Drunk from his kisses, Triana melted against him, loving the feel of his strong hands exploring her body. But as he teased her breasts, then went back to caressing her ass again, it occurred to her that she was being selfish. How fair was it for her to be getting all the attention, while Remy’s poor shaft was still trapped in his underwear? It was time to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her. Pulling away, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Without a word, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of

his boxer briefs and carefully slid them down over his erection. It took a little work, since they clearly hadn’t been intended to contain everything Remy was packing. But with care and patience, she was finally able to set him completely free. After she had his underwear all the way down his thighs, she took the opportunity to sit back on her heels and take him all in. Remy’s cock was long, thick, and more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. It throbbed and pulsed in front of her, and as she watched, a glistening little bead formed at the tip, beckoning her forward. Triana reached out and wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft, rubbing her hand up and down his length a few times before leaning forward to take him in her mouth. Remy let out what sounded like a growl as she dipped her head, taking him as deep as she could. She moaned in appreciation as his masculine essence coated her tongue. She’d never tasted anything like that in her life… It was almost intoxicating in its effect on her. She slid her mouth up to the tip, then back down, alternating between deep-throating and quick little butterfly flicks of her tongue along the underside of his sensitive head. Remy slid his fingers into her hair, urging her on. Triana had intended to simply tease him to show him just how much she enjoyed all the things he’d been doing to her, but now that she was down there, she didn’t want to stop. The idea of getting to taste all of him was definitely enticing, especially since she’d get to make him hard all over again. Was there anything not great about that?

But as she tightened her hand around his shaft, working it up and down in rhythm with her mouth, Remy apparently decided he wasn’t going to let her have her way. One moment, she was kneeling on the floor with him in her mouth; the next, he was tugging her to her feet and spinning her around to face the bed. A split second later, he wrapped his big, strong arms around her, trapping her against his chest…and his extremely hard cock. She stilled as she felt his hardness pressing against the top of her ass and lower back and pulsing with arousal. Slowly turning her head, she looked over her shoulder, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Her breath caught at the hungry, almost predatory look on his face. She’d been going to say something witty about how it was impolite to interrupt a woman while she was working, but one look at the expression on his face changed her mind. Foreplay was over, and things were about to get very serious. “There are condoms in my purse,” she whispered softly. Remy nodded but made no move to let her go. Instead, he glided one hand up her belly to cup her left breast while the other moved around to slip between her legs. Triana let her head fall back against his chest, gasping as he began to tease her nipple and clit at the same time. Her body’s response to his touch was immediate and intense, catching her completely off guard. A few little circles of his finger on that most sensitive part of her anatomy made her tingle like crazy. The way he squeezed her nipple and massaged her breast only made the sensation that much

more intense, and within moments, she felt like she was on the verge of coming. But just as she was about to climax, Remy stopped. She opened her mouth to complain, but before she could say anything, she felt a hand on her shoulder, nudging her forward until she was bent over at the waist. She automatically placed her hands on the mattress, which put her in the most provocative position possible. Triana threw a glance over her shoulder to see Remy regarding her with a serious smolder in his eyes. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought they were about to glow. She gave him a sexy smile. “See something you like back there?” The corners of Remy’s mouth edged up. “Definitely.” Stepping closer, he trailed a hand up her outer thigh, then along her right hip, and across the curve of her bottom. He traced his fingers over each cheek, making her skin tingle and her legs tremble. Soon enough, the light caresses became a sensual massage, and she let out a husky moan. Behind her, Remy chuckled softly. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked me to touch your ass, were you?” All she could do was shake her head. Between the light, teasing caresses and firm, possessive squeezes, words were beyond her right then. And when Remy wasn’t doing either of those things, he’d slip his fingers down to play with her pussy. He was teasing her so much she was surprised she wasn’t a puddle on the floor already. Triana was so caught up in the pleasure of the moment

that she barely realized he’d slipped away to grab the condom until she heard him tear the foil wrapper. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he got himself ready. She wondered for a moment if she should climb up on the bed, but the hunger in Remy’s eyes as he looked at her gave her all the answer she needed. He wanted to take her just like this, and that was exactly what she wanted too. Stepping up behind her, Remy got a tight grip on her hips, holding her steady as he positioned himself at her wet opening. He moved carefully, almost gently, making sure she was completely ready for him as he slowly slid in. She gasped as his thickness spread her wide, making her legs tremble and her body quiver. “Yes,” she breathed. Instead of plunging deep, Remy pulled out a little, giving her several short, almost tender thrusts, going deeper each time. While it felt spectacular, it was also a sweet torture. Triana bit her lip to keep from screaming in frustration. She’d been ready for him since they’d walked into the room and she was in no mood to be treated gently. Triana reached back with one hand, trying to grab his hip and encourage him to thrust harder, but Remy chuckled and caught her wrist in one of his big hands, gently but firmly pinning it behind her back, continuing his slow movements. “Patience, Triana,” he murmured softly. “We’re just getting started.” She threw him an exasperated look over her shoulder. “I thought you would have remembered from back in high school that I’ve never had patience with anything.”

“Then it’s a good time to start, because I’m not rushing this, no matter how much you want me to,” Remy told her. Since words weren’t going to sway him, Triana went with another tactic—shoving back unexpectedly and sending his cock nice and deep. Remy groaned. “You are so bad.” He released her wrist so he could grip her hips in both hands again. Then he slid out a little. He probably thought he could control her movements better that way. “Maybe you just bring out the bad in me,” she said, planting her hands firmly on the mattress and thrusting back again. With his strong hands grasping her hips, the move didn’t work as well this time, but it was still enough to sink another inch or two of his hard shaft inside her, eliciting another groan from Remy. He tightened his hold on her hips, trying to keep her under control. Like that was going to happen. Triana opened her mouth to tell him as much, but all that came out was a gasp as he slid out and plunged back in, burying himself fully inside her and touching places she hadn’t even known existed. That felt ah-mazing. “So, you think I bring out your inner bad girl, huh?” Remy’s voice was low, almost rough, in her ear, and she realized that he’d leaned over when she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been so focused on the overwhelming sensations racing through her that she hadn’t even felt him move. But as his warm breath stirred her hair, she felt goose

bumps spring up all over her body. “Yes,” she told him softly. “It’s all your fault.” He chuckled. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe I should see just how bad you can be.” Triana didn’t answer. She had no idea what he meant by that, but she was more than willing to find out. Straightening up, Remy jerked his cock out and plunged all the way back in, thrusting so hard that his hips smacked against her ass with an audible sound. Triana cried out her pleasure, clutching the blanket as he began to pound into her over and over so deliciously hard that stars sparkled behind her closed eyes. Her body wasn’t simply tingling now. It was ablaze. It wasn’t just the feel of his cock inside her, though that was definitely enough to make her lose her mind. There was also the erotic sensation of his strong hands holding her captive and the sting of his hips smacking against her ass, not to mention the animalistic sounds Remy made. All of those things came together to shove her toward an orgasm that she instinctively knew was going to be more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced. When her climax finally hit, it wasn’t gradual and it wasn’t tame. It was like a tidal wave, and for a moment, Triana feared it might wash her away. But at the same time, she reveled in pleasure so overwhelming and pure that she nearly cried at its beauty and intensity. The crest peaked, then rose even higher, going on and on until her arms gave out and she was forced to bury her face in the blanket and cry out as her body spasmed in pure bliss.

She lost track of time for a while. Hell, she lost track of everything. But at some point after her orgasm subsided, she felt Remy slide out and pick her up in his arms. She got her bearings back about the time her ass came down on something hard. She looked around and realized she was sitting on the low dresser on the other side of the room from the bed. Remy was standing between her spread legs with a hungry expression on his face that told her they weren’t done yet. Triana glanced down and saw that he was still hard. He scooted her to the edge of the dresser and spread her legs wide, moving closer at the same time. The dresser put her at the perfect height for him to stand there and slide in. Even better, in this position, they’d be able to gaze into each other’s eyes the entire time. Damn, he was good. Remy’s eyes never left hers as he lifted her legs a bit, so he could get his cock exactly where he wanted it, then nudged himself inside until he was once again buried deep. Her breath hitched. This position felt so completely different than being bent over the bed. Triana wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles together behind his back, squeezing him tightly and pulling him in even more. He didn’t thrust right away. Instead, he slid his hand into her long hair, brushing it away from her face and tracing the edge of his thumb along her jawline. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he whispered softly. Triana could only shake her head, overwhelmed at the

sincerity in his eyes. She had never felt more beautiful in her whole life than she did at that moment. He leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth capturing hers, then trailing along her jaw and over to her ear as he began to pump in and out of her pussy in a gentle rocking motion. Even though she’d just had the strongest orgasm of her life not more than five minutes ago, Triana quickly discovered that her body was ready for more. Even these slow, measured thrusts were enough to make her tingle all over again. Remy took his time, his hand tightening in her hair as he closed his mouth over hers and kissed her nearly senseless. She gave as good as she got, sometimes letting her tongue tangle with his, other times nibbling his neck and shoulder, something he seemed to like if the sounds he was making were any indication. All at once, Remy began to move faster. Triana gripped the front edge of the dresser and tightened her legs around his waist, holding on for dear life as the dresser thumped against the wall of the hotel. Please let the room next door be empty, she prayed. She really didn’t want this moment interrupted. She was in heaven as another orgasm approached, but then her entire definition of heaven was readjusted when Remy reached down and grabbed her ass with both hands, then jerked her a few inches off the dresser and pounded into her. When Remy buried his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder and said her name long and low in her ear,

that trumped any orgasm high she’d ever had—even the one she’d experienced a few minutes ago. She felt Remy tense inside her, felt his hands grip her ass harder as he poured himself into her. Something melted inside her then. She couldn’t really describe it any other way, but she knew this moment was going to be special for the rest of her life. It was a bizarre and likely lust-induced feeling that made absolutely no sense. Yet she was sure of its significance all the same. Remy half groaned, half growled, slamming into her a few more times and extending both of their orgasms just a little bit further. Knowing she was giving him as much pleasure as he was giving her brought tears to her eyes. They stayed like that for a long time, neither of them saying a word, before Remy finally carried her to the big bed. As he set her down on it, something told her they weren’t going to be doing much sleeping in it that night. That was more than fine with her.

Chapter 7 Trying to focus on anything at four thirty in the morning was difficult enough, but trying to pay attention to what the weatherman on the TV was saying about Ophelia while Triana was lying in his bed naked made it damn near impossible. One look was all it took to remind him of the night they’d shared. Dinner at Muriel’s had been amazing and the beignets at Café du Monde had been even better. But while those things had been spectacular, they took a backseat to what happened after they’d come back here. Flat out, he’d never had a night like last night. He’d slept with plenty of other women before but never with a woman like Triana. Even now, he tried to find words to describe their connection and failed. Simply put, she clicked with him sexually like no one else ever had. She was energetic, enthusiastic, adventurous, and insatiable. It was like they were a perfect match, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he had to get to the NOPD SWAT facility early, the two of them would probably still be making love. How the hell had he missed such a remarkable

woman when she’d been right under his nose all those years ago? He must have been blind—or stupid. “Do these people seriously get paid for this?” Triana asked. She was on her side, her head propped up on one hand, a corner of the bedsheet strategically covering absolutely nothing. “The guy just confessed to not having a clue what the storm’s going to do.” Remy couldn’t answer the question. He was standing there with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, staring, so he tore his gaze away from Triana’s display of sexy brown skin and attempted to focus on the TV. In a way, he kind of felt sorry for the people responsible for predicting where Ophelia was heading. As far as Remy could tell, this storm wasn’t following the rules. It was still wandering aimlessly in a westerly direction, but mostly it seemed to be stuck. The only thing the weather experts could say for sure was that the storm was getting stronger. Other than that, they were baffled. The hell with the frigging weather. Remy had to get to work, storm or no storm. Going into the bathroom, he rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth and shoved the electric razor around his jaw for a bit before heading back to the bedroom so he could rummage through the dresser for underwear and socks. Since it happened to be the same dresser he and Triana had made love on last night, it was difficult to think about something as mundane as socks, but he forced himself to focus before he got too hard to put on his damn underwear. Triana didn’t make it any easier, choosing that particular

moment to stretch, rolling around on the bed and arching her back like a kitty. Stifling a groan, he turned his back on her, then dragged a pair of uniform cargos out of the closet and pulled them on. At least they were looser in the crotch than the jeans he’d had on last night. He pulled on the standard, dark-blue DPD SWAT T-shirt, then his socks and boots. His car keys were in the room safe, but it took a while to find his wallet and room key card, which were on the floor by the front door. How the hell had that happened? He patted the front right pocket of his cargos, realizing he was missing something. Frowning, he went in search of the jeans he’d been wearing the night before. Where the hell had he kicked them? Triana laughed as he got down on his hands and knees and pulled them out from under the bed. Getting to his feet, he dug through the pockets and immediately found what he was after—a small, tan bag made out of chamois material and tied with a complicated knot at the top. A series of runes and letters were inscribed on one side of the bag. Well, they used to be. Now the marks were mostly faded. “I can’t believe you’re still carrying the gris-gris bag my mom gave you,” Triana said, coming up on her knees and leaning forward to peek at it. Remy slipped the good luck charm in the right pocket of his uniform pants. “I never go anywhere without it.” Her eyes widened. “You’ve been carrying it every day since Mom gave it to you the day we graduated high school?”

He hesitated, almost telling her there had been a three-year period when he’d been in the Marshals that he’d gotten out of the habit. But that was too long of a story to get into— and too depressing. So he fibbed a little. “Pretty much. Yeah.” Triana eyed him skeptically. “You don’t believe in all this voodoo magic stuff, do you? You’re a cop. You know better than anyone that there’s no magic out there. There’s just good guys, bad guys, and science.” He chuckled. Triana had always been into the science behind everything. If she couldn’t see it or prove it with an experiment, she wasn’t much for it. She’d always humored her mother about the stuff Gemma sold at the shop, but she’d never bought into it. He shrugged, wondering what she’d do if she figured out he was a werewolf. Probably draw blood and look for a cure. “Don’t be so sure of that. Take it from me, the world is a lot stranger than you might think. The moment you’re sure you’ve seen it all, you run into someone who will prove you wrong.” Remy expected her to laugh, but instead, she looked thoughtful. “Funny you should say that, considering the guy who showed up in the shop yesterday.” “What guy?” he asked, checking his duffel bag to make sure he had all his tactical gear as well as another uniform to change into if he needed it. Triana sat back on her heels with a sigh. “Same whack job lawyer looking for the necklace with the wolf head my father used to wear all the time. Apparently he represents

some rich guy who wants to remain anonymous and offered my mom five thousand dollars for the thing.” “Whoa.” Remy remembered the necklace Triana was talking about, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t worth anywhere near that kind of money. “Yeah, no kidding.” Triana gracefully climbed out of bed and padded over to him. “The funny thing is, Mom claimed she didn’t know what necklace the guy was talking about.” “You think your mom has the necklace and just doesn’t want to sell it?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the fact that Triana was still gloriously naked. She shrugged, which did rather amazing things to her perfect breasts. “Maybe.” “Is that so surprising? I mean, it was your father’s. I imagine it’s probably important to your mother for obvious sentimental reasons.” Triana nodded. “Oh, I get that part. Hell, even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t want her selling to the guy, because he came off as an arrogant prick. No, the part that struck me as strange was why someone is willing to spend that much money on a necklace, not to mention send a smarmy lawyer to be his mouthpiece.” Remy opened his mouth to reply, but Triana chose that moment to stand up on her tiptoes, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him. He’d already been aroused simply from being near her sexy, naked body, but the moment her lips touched his and he got a taste of her, he went from semi-erect to hard as a crowbar. He put his arms around her,

fitting her more tightly against him. Damn, she was a walking, talking aphrodisiac. “So, what do you have planned for today?” she asked, smiling up at him. “More training?” What she was really asking was whether he’d be going out on any more drug raids. Remy knew he probably should have been honest and told Triana that was always a possibility, but he couldn’t do that to her. She was obviously relaxed and happy after last night and there was no reason to bum her out. “Yeah,” he said casually. “We ran the training yesterday, so today the local guys are up. I think they plan on demonstrating some new room-clearing techniques based on a three-person team.” Triana nodded, though Remy could tell she had no idea what he was talking about. She seemed relieved he wasn’t going to be putting himself at risk today. That was good enough for him. “Well, have fun…I guess.” She kissed him again, making him burn with the need to taste even more of her. “You want to get together tonight?” He grinned, sliding his hands down her back until he had a handful of ass cheek in each. Her bottom should have been listed as a New Orleans work of art. It simply defined perfection. “That’s a clown question, and you know it,” he told her. “I’m up for anything you might have in mind.” She rubbed her tummy against the hard-on hidden in his uniform pants. “Yes, you are, aren’t you? But I was actually

talking about going out to the French Quarter again. I blew off a night out with my girlfriends last night and was hoping you’d be willing to come out with us so I could make it up to them while still spending time with you too.” “Works for me,” he said. “My teammates probably wouldn’t mind coming, if that’s okay with you?” Actually, he wasn’t really sure about that last part, but if he needed his pack mates to pull wingman duty, they’d do it. Triana smiled. “It’s a date then.” She nodded down at his crotch. “You sure there isn’t something I could do to help you out with that before you go to work? I can work fast when I need to.” He groaned at the visual and almost gave in, but then resisted the urge. If last night proved anything, it was that once they got going, they didn’t want to stop. “You don’t know how much I’d love to, but if I don’t get downstairs, the guys are going to come banging on the door.” He caught a stray curl from where it rested against her breast and twirled it around his finger. “Rain check.” She looked disappointed but nodded. “Feel free to stay here and catch up on some sleep if you want,” he said. “I’ll put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.” “I probably will.” Triana grimaced. “This is a crazy time to be getting up for work anyway.” Before she let him go, she pulled his head down once more for another kiss, this time slow and passionate. “By the way,” she said softly, “in case you didn’t notice, last night was fantastic—and I don’t just mean once we got

back here to your room. Cross my heart, I’ve never had a better date in my life.” Remy weaved a hand into her hair and tugged her in for a kiss that he hoped spoke volumes about how much he agreed. “Best. Date. Ever.” “Something tells me tonight will be even better,” she said. Smiling, Triana turned and headed for the bathroom, putting a little extra wiggle in her walk as she went— probably to punish him for leaving without taking her up on the offer of a quickie. “Later, sweetie,” she said over her shoulder. Remy watched her ass until it completely disappeared from sight, then grabbed his duffel bag and left the room. Halfway down the hall, he stopped in midstride as he realized how painful it was to leave Triana. His inner wolf shouted at him to go back, even if only for one more kiss. Damn, he’d known the sexual chemistry between them was intense, but it was stronger than he knew—more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. He supposed that was what happened when you finally made love with the girl you’d been crushing on since high school. Giving himself a mental shake, he started down the hall again. Remy smelled the guys waiting for him long before he reached the elevators. Max, Brooks, and Zane were standing there with knowing looks on their faces. “Good night?” Max asked as he pressed the button for the elevator. “Good enough,” Remy said noncommittally.

Brooks snorted as the elevator doors slid open. “Dude, you are so full of shit.”

*** Triana left Remy’s hotel room and headed toward the diner on Magazine Street a little after nine that morning. While the sky might have still been bright and clear, the threat of the storm in the Gulf was starting to have a visible effect on the inhabitants of the city. It was hard to put into words, but she could feel the tension in the air as people walked along the sidewalks a little bit faster, smiled a little bit less. People were getting worried, and it was starting to show. She stopped in the entryway of the crowded restaurant, looking for Marcus Bodine, the private investigator she’d hired, and spotted him sitting at a booth in the back, eating breakfast. She wasn’t sure how he knew she was there, but he glanced up and made eye contact the moment she walked in, motioning her over. She’d just gotten out of the shower when Bodine had called, saying he wanted to meet with her as soon as possible. He had something she needed to see. Triana barely remembered putting on her dress, she’d moved so fast. Weaving her way through the tables, Triana slid into the booth on the other side of the table from Bodine and flagged down a passing waitress. “Coffee and whole wheat toast,” she said. While the diner made a delicious breakfast, her stomach was too jumpy to consider anything heavier. For the first time in months, there was a chance she’d finally learn

something about the man who’d killed her father. “Sure you don’t want something else to eat?” Bodine said. “My treat. I swear I won’t even add it to the expense report.” Triana almost laughed. So far, the PI had added everything to his expense report. The last one had had an entry for thirty-five cents, the cost of the parking meter outside the coffee shop he’d stopped at for a bagel while on the way to his office to email her the report. “Toast is fine,” she said. “What do you have?” Short and stocky, Bodine had a touch of gray in his curly brown hair, and dark eyes that didn’t miss a thing. He reached down into the messenger-style bag beside him on the bench and came out with a thick yellow envelope. Without a word, he shoved it across the table at her. She started to open it, but he shook his head. “Not here. If anyone sees you reading that, it would lead to a lot of awkward questions.” Triana was so curious her fingers itched, but she resisted the temptation to assume Bodine was being a drama queen and instead put the envelope on the seat beside her. “What is it?” she asked. He went back to eating his Creole Slammer, a big mess of eggs and hash browns smothered in crawfish étouffée. She loved her city’s down-home cooking as much as the next girl, but there was no way in heck she could eat something like that this early in the morning. “It’s the entire case file the NOPD has on your father’s murder,” he said. “And I do mean the entire case file,

including the coroner’s death investigation report.” If she’d thought her fingers had been itching to see it before, it didn’t compare to how eager she was now. She’d been asking the NOPD for a copy of the file for over a year and hadn’t gotten so much as a return phone call. Apparently, it wasn’t something the police preferred to hand out, especially when the case was technically still open. “How’d you get it?” she asked Bodine. She wasn’t quite sure if it was illegal to have a copy of a full, unabridged police report in New Orleans, but she didn’t think anyone would be thrilled about it. Bodine didn’t even look up from his plate as he shoveled eggs onto his fork. “I stole it. When you get a chance to read it in private, you’ll notice the actual crime scene photos have been sealed in a separate envelope. It’s my suggestion that you skip that part of the report. Take my word for it, you don’t want to see them.” She nodded, forcing herself to suddenly take interest in the coffee and toast the waitress had just delivered to avoid thinking about what might be in that sealed envelope. “Any information you think is of particular interest?” she asked as she sipped her coffee. Bodine glanced at the nearby tables like he was worried the NOPD had suddenly started following him. But after a few moments of surveillance, he must have decided the risk was low enough because he nodded. “Several items. In no particular order,” he said quietly, “first, the detective running this case should probably be fired. Outside of the generic walk-around-the-block-and-

ask-if-anyone-heard-anything type of questions, he’s done nothing. My personal opinion is that as soon as they saw your dad’s old rap sheet, they wrote this off as criminal-oncriminal violence and let the case sink.” Triana immediately felt her face flush with anger. Her father had never hidden the fact that he’d had a shady background growing up or that he’d been in tangles with the law back when he was younger. But all that had been more than two decades ago. Everything had changed after she and her mother were in his life. Didn’t a man get any credit for turning his life around? Still, as mad as she was, Triana knew that Bodine hadn’t told her anything she hadn’t already figured out on her own. She’d known the police hadn’t tried very hard to find her father’s killer, but it still hurt to have it confirmed. “There were a few random notes in the file about some people thinking your dad had pissed off someone dangerous in the days or weeks right before his death, but nothing specific,” Bodine continued. “I’m going to dig into that angle a bit more.” Triana didn’t say anything as she nibbled on her breakfast. “The most interesting tidbits were found in the autopsy report,” Bodine added, scraping up the last of his breakfast with a piece of toast slathered in so much butter that it left yellow streaks behind on the plate. Triana had to wonder what this guy’s blood pressure and cholesterol averaged on a normal day. “There was also blood at the crime scene that wasn’t your dad’s—two distinct blood types beyond his— and lots of it. The coroner stated it was arterial, probably

from the carotid based on angle and distance of spray. Unfortunately, there were no hits in CODIS or the Louisiana DNA databases.” Triana looked up in surprise. “Dad was attacked by two people?” Bodine shook his head. “More than that. The coroner was of the opinion that the amount of blood at the scene indicated both of those people would have bled out in something like twenty or thirty seconds. But their bodies weren’t at the scene, meaning there were at least three attackers and that whoever was left removed the bodies of the two who’d been killed. Why the hell someone would hang around to drag off their bodies but not the body of the person they’d killed is frigging beyond me. The coroner’s theory is also supported by the fact that ballistics showed three distinct large-caliber automatics used on your father. None of the weapons were found at the scene or anywhere nearby, though.” “Three people shooting large-caliber handguns in the middle of the night and no one heard a thing?” she asked in disbelief. “It’s not like Dad’s club was in the middle of nowhere.” Bodine shrugged. “My guess is that they used silencers, which is kind of scary, since it likely means that these men were professionals. Common criminals don’t walk around the street carrying silenced weapons.” Professionals, huh? Something else the NOPD detective had never mentioned to her and her mother. “They were professionals, but Dad was still able to kill two of them?”

She felt a completely stupid sense of pride at that. Her dad had gone down swinging, the way he’d always told her to face any obstacle life put in front of her. “I didn’t know he’d even kept a weapon at the club.” Bodine looked around the diner again, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation, then lowered his voice. “That’s where things get interesting. Those men weren’t shot. The coroner and crime scene techs were sure of that. The only guns fired in that club belonged to the men who attacked your father. There was blood found on the tips of all of your dad’s fingers though, implying that he ripped the men’s throats out with his bare hands. I have to admit, that conclusion makes me wonder if the crime scene techs didn’t mess something up during the collection. I know your dad was big, but I’m not buying the idea that he was able to rip two people’s throats out while getting shot multiple times.” Triana wasn’t so sure of that. Her dad had never been one to mess with. As much as she loved him, she knew he was ornery enough to do something like that. “So, is there anything else the police didn’t tell me about my father’s death?” she asked, not sure what to do with all the information she already had. “Actually, there is.” He hesitated as the waitress came by to drop off the checks. True to his word, Bodine grabbed hers and paid for it. Triana reminded herself to check the next expense report just in case. She waited while the PI calculated the tip down to the sixth decimal place. When he finally looked up at her,

his expression was cautious. “To tell the truth, I have no idea what to make of this last part, but it’s strange, so I think it’s something we should dig into,” Bodine said. “When you read the report, I’m sure the chemical names will mean more to you than they did to me, but bottom line—someone pumped your father full of animal tranquilizer just before he was shot. Again, I’m not sure how they’re connected, but the report said the levels would have been lethal to a human in minutes. Essentially, someone tried to poison your dad to death before they shot him.”

Chapter 8 “How bad do you think this is going to be?” Remy asked the room in general. Talking about the upcoming ass-reaming had to be better than sitting around stewing over it. “On a scale of one to ten?” On the other side of the table in the small NOPD headquarters conference room, Lorenzo’s mouth tightened. “I’m figuring about a twelve, maybe even a thirteen since I’m feeling so lucky today.” Remy looked at Brooks, then Drew, hoping one of the other SWAT officers might offer up something to give the narcotics detective a little hope. But both men were sitting there with the same tight, concerned expression on their faces. Okay. That must mean this meeting with the captain of narcotics major case squad and the assistant district attorney responsible for prosecuting Aaron Lee, if the man ever saw the inside of a courtroom, was going to be just as awful as Lorenzo feared. Not that Remy expected anything less after the absolute catastrophe of a morning they’d had at the freight storage warehouse owned and operated by another

one of Lee’s shell companies. Remy and his pack mates had barely walked into the SWAT facility that morning when Drew stuck his head out of his office and said they had a call. He hadn’t given them any details, just simple instructions to get their gear ready, load up the operations vehicle, and roll. Not that Remy needed much in the way of details to figure out they were going after Aaron Lee again. That was the only reason Drew would have been so mum about the whole thing. Drew had given them an extremely basic mission briefing en route to the warehouse. According to their narcotics informant, the crime boss had the crystal meth stored in there and intended to start breaking it down today. Since Drew and Lorenzo didn’t want to risk the operation getting compromised again, they’d accelerated the normal timetable for a raid like this as well as limited the number of people involved. They’d hoped by moving fast and light, they’d hit Lee’s warehouse before word of the raid leaked out to the man. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked that way. Remy had known there was something wrong before he’d even kicked in the back door of the warehouse. The approach to the structure had simply been too easy, the lack of exterior guards was a blaring alarm that they were walking into a setup. His inner wolf had gone into alert mode, sure there were going to be shooters in the place waiting to mow them all down the moment they stepped inside. Drew had sent his teams into the warehouse through

multiple entry points, much the same way Remy would have done if he were running the show. They’d even blown out two windows, so they could get officers into the rearmost storage areas, where they were sure the drugs were being held. But there hadn’t been any drugs in the place, even though Remy was able to pick up a clear scent telling him the crap had been there no more than an hour ago. Even more embarrassing than the absence of meth was the obvious fact that the people running the warehouse had known they were coming. Instead of the normal bustling crew of twenty or thirty men that should have been working, there were only a handful of men who claimed to know nothing about the drugs. On the bright side, Aaron Lee and his lieutenants hadn’t shown up to crow at them. But on the not-so-bright side, Drew and Lorenzo had gotten a call about twenty minutes later, telling them to come downtown to police headquarters and to bring Remy and Brooks with them. Remy felt bad that Drew and Lorenzo were in hot water, but he was also a little worried about why he and Brooks had been pulled into this mess. They were merely visitors here. No way in hell was he going to let the NOPD brass try and lay this shit sandwich at their feet. He swiveled around in his chair as the door to the conference room opened. An older man with captain bars on the shoulders of his uniform and a name tag that read Barron walked in, followed by a harried-looking guy in a suit and tie that had to be the ADA. One look at him and Remy could already tell they weren’t going to get along.

Captain Barron walked over and shook each of their hands. “You must be Senior Corporal Brooks and Officer Boudreaux. I’m Corey Barron. Thanks for coming down to talk to us.” He motioned at the lawyer. “This is ADA Russo. He’d like to ask a few questions and see if we can get to the bottom of our current predicament.” Barron gave Russo a nod, then took a seat at the table beside Brooks. Russo didn’t sit. Instead, he swept a glare over all of them. “You realize that I’ve gone to Judge Thibodeau twice now for warrants, right? And that in order to get the one signed this morning, I had to go over to his house before sunrise with one of his clerks in tow and wake the man and his wife up?” He scowled at Lorenzo. “Do you know how much I hate waking up a judge at six o’clock in the morning? Do you?” When Lorenzo didn’t answer his question, Russo took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his tousled blond hair. “Thibodeau wasn’t real keen on going up against Lee to begin with, so I had to talk him into it. He’s coming up for reelection soon, and Aaron Lee can bury him easily enough if he wants to. But I’d promised him we had a solid source inside the old man’s organization. I can’t imagine the judge puts much stock in my promises now, seeing as we’re oh-for-two on these damn raids. I swear, I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that Judge Thibodeau will probably shoot me the next time I walk into his office, or that I can forget about ever getting another search warrant signed by the man.”

Remy wasn’t generally fond of lawyers, and Russo was working his way steadily higher on his list of disliked people. So it wasn’t really his fault he couldn’t hold his tongue. “Since I’ve been shot a few times before, I think having the judge shoot you would be worse than having to go find another judge to sign your search warrants. But then again, maybe that’s just me.” He opened his mouth to add that Russo getting shot might not be such a bad thing if the ADA could convince the judge to shoot him in some noncritical part of his anatomy like his ass or his brain, but beside him, Brooks laid a hand on his arm and squeezed until the bones started to creak. Russo glared at Remy but didn’t say anything, much to Remy’s disappointment. Instead, the lawyer turned his attention to Captain Barron. “You’d think this day couldn’t get any worse, right? Wrong,” the ADA said. “Want to know what I get to do next?” No one answered this question either, but Russo didn’t seem to notice. He stood there, jaw clenched, his heart beating so fast Remy thought the lawyer was going to blow a gasket. Shit, this guy needs to take up yoga or something. “I get to spend some quality time with Mr. Lee himself,” Russo said, his heart thumping even harder. “Yeah, that’s right. He is on his way here right now with his entourage of lawyers. They want to talk to me about why they shouldn’t be suing the department for property damages and harassment. And guess what? The DA has left me to deal

with this on my own. You want to know what he told me? You’re the one who wanted to go after the big fish. Guess you better figure out how to reel him in on your own.” The ADA shook his head. “The man is flat out going to offer me up as fish bait if this goes wrong. And right now, it’s going pretty fucking wrong. I mean, shit, guys, did you have to blow out his fucking windows?” Russo grabbed a chair and quickly sat down, like he’d suddenly run out of gas—or might faint. His face did actually look a little pale. Remy almost felt bad for him. Not that bad, of course, since the guy had almost certainly jumped on this case because he saw some future value to be gained if he could take down a criminal as big as Aaron Lee. Political careers in this city had been started on far less. Now the weather vane was turning the other way and poor ADA Russo realized that maybe he’d made a serious tactical error. “What the hell happened, Corey?” Russo finally asked, sounding totally defeated as he sat there pressing his fingers to his temples and making circular motions. “You said you had a man on the inside of Lee’s organization. I get why you don’t want to tell me anything about him, but I have to ask —is this informant incompetent or did he just get paid off?” Captain Barron shook his head. “The leak is not our informant. They’ve been in the old man’s organization for three years now and are in a position to know exactly what Lee is doing. This person is risking their life for us. There has to be someone in the NOPD or the DA’s office who’s selling us out to Lee.”

Russo considered that for a moment, then pinned Remy and Brooks with a calculating look. “How do we know it’s not the SWAT team you brought in from Dallas? It can’t be a coincidence they’ve been on both operations and they’ve both gone bad.” His eyes narrowed at Remy. “In fact, didn’t you used to work in one of the local parish sheriff’s offices a while back? For all we know, you’ve been in Lee’s pockets for years.” Remy snorted. “Yeah, that’s right. I orchestrated this entire SWAT cross-training exercise that took months to set up so I’d be in town just in time for Drew to send me out on a mission I had no idea I’d be allowed to go on, so I could tell a criminal I was on the way to bust him. Wow, that’s fucking brilliant. Tell me, Russo, how many cases have you won? With an intellect like yours, you must be up to, what? Two or three by now?” Russo jumped out of his chair to charge at Remy, who was already on his feet and ready to meet the asshat halfway. Brooks and Lorenzo quickly put themselves between Remy and the man. Not that the ADA looked too serious about taking a swing at Remy, now that he’d seen how much taller and bigger Remy was. “That’s enough,” Captain Barron said sharply. “We’re wasting time here, Russo. It’s extremely unlikely that one of the SWAT officers from Dallas is our leak. They simply didn’t have access to enough information to compromise either operation.” Russo looked like he wanted to argue, but then finally shook his head in disgust. “I know. But if it’s not them,

what the hell are we going to do? How do we find this leak and plug it?” “I’ve asked the public integrity bureau to look into the situation, but the chances of them finding anything in the near term is unlikely,” Barron said. The NOPD Public Integrity Bureau—or PIB—was similar to the internal affairs division in Dallas. The fact that Barron was willing to turn this effort over to the cops in the PIB meant he was serious about finding this leak. But like he said, it would take time. “What’s the plan if the PIB can’t find the leak in the next day or two?” Remy asked. The captain sighed. “If we can’t plug the leak before our informant sends us another tip, I’m pulling them out.” Lorenzo swore. “Dammit, Captain. We’ve been after Lee for years. We’ll never get this close again.” “Don’t you think I know that? I won’t risk our informant, not even for Lee.” Barron got to his feet. “If you want to put Aaron Lee away, then you need to figure out a way to do it fast—without exposing our source.” Giving them a nod, the captain walked out of the room. Remy noticed the captain had been careful to never mention the gender of their undercover informant throughout their entire conversation, or whether the person was a cop or not. His promise to pull the informant rather than put them at risk was something Remy could appreciate. No sooner had Barron walked out than a uniformed officer stuck his head in the open door. “Mr. Russo, those people you’ve been waiting to talk to have arrived. They’re

in the interrogation room at the end of the hall. And by the way, the deputy superintendent will also be sitting in on the meeting.” Russo’s face turned a few shades paler, but he nodded. “Okay. I might as well get this over with.” As the ADA left the room, Remy wondered if the man was even going to make it through the meeting with Lee and his lawyers. Russo’s heart was pounding like a drum. “You guys want to listen in and see what Lee and his lawyers have to say?” Lorenzo asked. “It might be interesting.” Remy doubted that but nodded anyway. “Why not? If nothing else, it’ll be fun to see Russo squirm.” It turned out that watching Russo get grilled by Aaron Lee and six of his high-priced lawyers wasn’t fun at all. In fact, it was kind of painful to see. From where he stood behind the one-way glass with Brooks, Drew, and Lorenzo, Remy winced as Lee and his lawyers eviscerated the ADA. Russo tried to trip him up, but the old man was too good. Lee wouldn’t have said anything incriminating even if his lawyers hadn’t been there. The worst part of having a front row seat to the whole thing was watching Lee gloat about the fact that the police hadn’t found anything to arrest him for and never would. He was even threatening to sue the NOPD and the city of New Orleans for everything he could get. The man was thumbing his nose at the ADA like it was all a game to him. Beside Remy, Drew let out a snort of disgust. “As long as Lee has someone inside the department, we’re never going

to get close to him. Even if the informant is able to get word to us on where Lee is keeping the meth, the son of a bitch will know we’re coming before we get there.” “Then why do we keep chasing our tails by trying to play whack-a-mole with this guy and his stash of crystal meth?” Remy asked. “Isn’t there a way we can get a step ahead of Lee and hit him someplace he’s not expecting? Where does he run his business from? I mean his legitimate business, not his shell companies.” Drew shook his head. “He’s got a big old plantation to the west of Kenner, up near the lake. Everyone in this city knows he’s got more incriminating evidence there than we have in our entire NOPD evidence warehouse.” Remy remembered driving around that part of the shores of Lake Pontchartrain when he was younger. There were some pricey properties up there. “If everyone knows, why can’t we get a warrant for that place?” It was Lorenzo who answered. “Never going to happen. He’s too well connected with the right people in this city and even more in Kenner. The fact that we’ve gone after him twice and missed both times would make it even harder.” Remy ground his jaw as he continued to watch Russo flounder in his battle of wits with Lee. They needed to do something completely different, or the next raid would end up the same as their first two. Worse, it might end up with them finding the narcotics squad’s informant dead in a swamp somewhere. He turned away from the carnage in the interrogation room to look at Lorenzo. “I know my guys and I are

outsiders here, but what if I told you I had a plan that had a good chance of taking down Aaron Lee and keeping your informant alive?” The narcotics detective regarded him thoughtfully. “What kind of plan?” “The kind that involves you not telling anyone but Brooks, Drew, and me the next time your informant calls with information, then letting us run the operation,” Remy said. Lorenzo flinched. “I don’t think Captain Barron would ever go for that.” “That won’t be a problem since a key part of the plan is not telling him either.”

*** It was almost one o’clock by the time Triana got to her mother’s shop. She hadn’t been able to wait to read the police and coroner’s reports Bodine had given her, so after leaving the diner, she’d hopped off the streetcar at the Tulane station and run across the street to the public library. At that time of the day, it hadn’t been hard to find a quiet cubicle out of the way to review the files. Even though she’d pored over thousands of reports like this in her job, it had been difficult to read these. This wasn’t just a random murder. This was her father’s. But she’d forced herself to push the emotions aside as much as she could and focus solely on the facts in the reports. She’d hoped the file would provide some details she might be able to dig into with her forensic skills, but there

had been no unusual hairs, fibers, trace evidence, or even fingerprints found at her father’s club. Like Bodine had said, the blood of the two attackers her father had apparently killed was not in the system, and the bullet casings didn’t come back as related to any other reported crimes. She’d hoped the animal tranquilizer used on her father might be a different story. Xylazine was a sedative and analgesic used for horses and other large animals. The coroner had found several large, deep puncture marks on her father’s body, indicating he’d been hit multiple times with a dart gun of some kind. The dosage used on her father had been extreme, and the coroner estimated that nearly fifteen milliliters of the stuff had been dumped into his body. That would have been a lot for a full-size horse. For a human—even one as big as her father—it would have been fatal in minutes. But even though Triana had never heard of anyone using xylazine on humans in regard to murder, it appeared no one had done anything with the information. She’d read through the reports several times and found no record that the coroner or detective in charge of the case had checked with ViCAP or any other state criminal database to see if something like this had happened before. Triana had called a friend at the crime lab in Houston and asked the woman to check for other murders involving the use of this drug. Her friend had been curious, wanting to know if this had anything to do with her father’s death, but when Triana said it wasn’t something she wanted to get out to the rest of the lab, her friend had promised to keep it

quiet. It was entirely possible that the reason there hadn’t been a note in the file about a ViCAP check was because the coroner had done his job and hadn’t found anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to check again, if for no other reason than it would give her something to do while Bodine was digging into the angle that her father had pissed someone off right before his death. Bodine promised to let her know if he learned anything and asked her to do the same. As Triana walked into the shop, she couldn’t help smiling when she saw her mom behind the counter, tying up grisgris bags and putting price tags on them. Her mother looked up and returned her smile. “So you finally decided to come home, huh?” she teased. Triana laughed. She’d texted her mom earlier that morning, before her meeting with Bodine, and again before stopping at the library. So it wasn’t like her mother hadn’t known where she was and that she was safe. Walking over to the counter, she set down her purse and the envelope so she could help with the gris-gris bags. She absolutely loved the smell of the combination of herbs and spices her mom put in them. Her mother glanced at her as she reached for another bag. “Since you spent the night with Remy, that must mean your date went well.” Triana’s first instinct was to say it was wonderful and that they had a great time, but she caught herself. Her mother was as much her friend as her parent, and if there was one person in the world she could tell about her date with Remy

—minus the part about them sleeping together—it was her mom. Besides, if she didn’t talk to someone about Remy and how much she liked him, she was sure she would explode. But wanting to talk about Remy and actually getting the right words to come out were two completely different things. Especially because her head was still swimming with everything she’d been feeling. Thankfully her mother didn’t rush her as she tried to get her thoughts together. Finally, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth, hoping the right words would somehow find their way out. “It went extremely well. I can honestly say that I’ve never been with a man so charming, engaging, relaxed, confident, or so…” “Attractive?” her mother finished. Triana grinned. “Yes. Without a doubt, Remy is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, much less dated. The funny thing about it is that I don’t think Remy knows how incredibly handsome he really is. I saw at least a dozen women trying to catch his eye when we walked into Muriel’s and he didn’t even notice. He never looked at a single one of them. In fact, he never took his eyes off of me the entire night.” Her mother’s lips curved. “Why would he? Remy’s as smitten with you as you are with him.” Even though Triana appreciated her mother’s analysis of Remy’s feelings, she couldn’t help laughing. “Mom. No one uses the word smitten anymore. And even if they did, I’m not sure I’d say I’m smitten with him. It’s a little too early

for anything like that.” Her mother lifted a brow. “What word would you use then, if not smitten?” Triana opened her mouth, all ready to try to put the crazy feelings that had been zipping back and forth through her head all morning into a single, simple word. She failed. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “What I’m feeling right now is too complicated to fit into a single word or even a whole bunch of words. All I can say for certain is that I’ve never been with anyone like Remy. I can’t stop thinking about him.” “You seem to have done a decent job of saying how you feel right there,” her mother said. “And whether you want to admit it or not, you are smitten with him.” Triana knotted the ribbon on the gris-gris bag she was working on. “I can’t be smitten with him. That would mean I’m falling for him, and that would be certifiably insane considering we’ve only gone out once.” Her mom laughed. “First off, I think you get a little credit for being friends with Remy in high school. It’s not as if you just met the man two days ago, you know. Even if you had, there’s nothing crazy about falling fast. It simply means fate put you in front of the man you were meant to be with. There’s nothing insane about that. In fact, it’s magical.” When Triana looked skeptical, her mother continued. “If it makes you feel any better, the exact same thing happened when I met your dad.” Triana looked at her mother in surprise. “It did?” She knew how her parents had met, of course, but she

didn’t know it had been love at first sight. “It did,” her mom said. “I knew there was something special about him the moment I saw him. Neither of us felt the need to play games. Your father asked me to marry him a week after we met, and I said yes.” Triana stood there so stunned she wouldn’t have been surprised if her mouth was hanging open. She’d thought her parents had dated for months, maybe even years, before deciding to get married—the way normal people did. The idea that her mother and father had fallen in love in a week was crazy hard to believe. But she had to admit it was also interesting. Her parents had been the most in-love couple she’d ever seen. If it was possible for that kind of love to happen in days, maybe this thing going on with Remy wasn’t so insane.

Chapter 9 Remy couldn’t understand why Triana needed to go back to her mother’s apartment above the shop to change before they headed out to the French Quarter to meet up with everyone else that night. As far as he was concerned, the form-fitting navy-blue dress she was wearing, with a slit that showed off plenty of thigh, was just fine with him. But she insisted it wasn’t sexy enough for Bourbon Street or the kind of dancing she had in mind. Not that he really cared what they did. After the day he’d had, he simply wanted to spend some quality time with Triana. If that meant watching her change clothes for an hour, he was definitely okay with that. Actually, in terms of quality time, he couldn’t imagine anything better than watching her take her clothes off over and over again. After spending another hour down at NOPD headquarters, he, Brooks, and Drew had headed back to the SWAT facility, hoping to get back to the training they had planned out for the day. It hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, they’d sat in the briefing room the entire afternoon talking to officers

from the Public Integrity Bureau and filling out statements regarding when they had learned about the raids and with whom they had talked during the time period from that point until the actual raids had taken place. If there was anything Remy hated more than lawyers, it was paperwork. And the PIB truly loved their paperwork. It had been easy to put all that frustration and stress behind him the moment he’d picked Triana up for dinner, though. Being with her made all the crap he and the SWAT team had been dealing with the past two days fade into the background. He didn’t have a clue how she did it, and by and large, he didn’t care. If it meant being able to put thoughts of Aaron Lee and his damn crystal meth out of his head for a few hours, he was willing to accept it without a lot of analysis. When they’d gone to a nearby diner to grab an early dinner, Remy quickly discovered it didn’t take a fancy restaurant to enjoy himself with Triana. He’d had a simple seafood po’boy sandwich and a bowl of soup but had enjoyed it as much as the expensive cut of meat he’d had last night. They’d sat in the booth and chatted about inconsequential stuff like how the Saints were looking this year and whether LSU was going to fire their football coach. He found it didn’t matter what he and Triana talked about. He simply loved hearing her velvety, soft voice. They were half a block away from her mother’s shop when Remy heard the sound of strident, angry voices coming from that direction. He didn’t recognize the man, who was saying something about this being the last offer

Gemma was going to get. But he definitely knew the woman. It was Gemma, telling the man to get the hell out of her shop. Tightening his hold on Triana’s hand, he picked up his pace the last twenty feet or so, jerking open the front door. The second he stepped inside, his senses went on alert and he gently pushed Triana behind him. There was a slick-looking man in a fancy suit standing in front of Gemma, berating her for being a stubborn old woman. The man’s attitude and clothing screamed lawyer, and Remy instinctively knew it was the same jackass Triana had mentioned to him that morning. But it wasn’t the lawyer or his condescending voice that had Remy’s fingertips and gums tingling. It was the three large brawler types the lawyer had with him. Remy recognized professional thugs when he saw them. They had noses that had been broken multiple times and scarred knuckles, not to mention wore cheap, loose-fitting sports jackets that allowed them to move easily as well as conceal a weapon. All eyes turned toward him and Triana as the little bell above the door tinkled, announcing their presence. “Mom?” Triana said hesitantly from behind him. “Is everything okay?” Gemma turned, relief on her face. “Of course. Mr. Murphy—or rather the person he claims to be representing —seems to have taken a sudden interest in my little voodoo shop. He offered to buy the whole place, including all the merchandise inside it and the apartment above it, for a ridiculous amount of money.”

Remy was focused on the three toughs, who’d started to spread out and move toward him, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Triana’s startled expression. She was obviously stunned and more than a little confused. “You’re selling your shop…your home?” she asked softly. Gemma shook her head. “Good heavens, no. I was just telling Mr. Murphy, for the second time, that the shop isn’t for sale, when you came in. Unfortunately, he’s a little hard of hearing.” Murphy glared at her. “Mrs. Bellamy, insult me all you want, but the offer my client is making is very fair. And as I’ve said more than once, it’s not an offer you’re in a position to refuse.” It was impossible for Remy to miss the threat in the man’s words. He didn’t imagine Gemma had either. But Triana’s mother didn’t bat an eye. Instead, she folded her arms and looked at the lawyer like he was an errant two-year-old having a tantrum. “Yet here I am, refusing your offer nevertheless.” She looked at Remy. “Could you please be a dear and escort Mr. Murphy and his friends out of my shop? This conversation is over.” “My pleasure,” Remy said. Two of the lawyer’s thugs immediately stepped forward to block his way while the third moved over to stand near his boss. Remy wasn’t in the mood to toy with these guys, not after they’d come in here and tried to intimidate Triana’s mother, but with Gemma and Triana standing there, it wasn’t like he could cut loose and go all werewolf on them.

Unfortunately, he was going to have to restrain himself. So, instead of tossing both men across the room like he wanted to, with two fingers, he poked the first guy in the sternum hard enough to crack the bone and make the man stumble back a few feet. A split second later, the man fell to the floor, gasping and fighting for air. Remy spun around just as the second guy took a swing at his head. Remy brought up his hand, catching the thug’s fist in midair and stopping it a few inches from his face. Then he squeezed. Not as hard as he could but hard enough to end the fight quickly. The sound of the bones in the man’s hand cracking was probably loud enough for Triana to hear over by the door. The guy wailed in pain, his knees giving out as he collapsed to the floor. Remy squeezed the man’s hand a little harder before he let go, just to make sure the asshole didn’t develop any silly ideas about getting back up. Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw a flash of movement and turned to see the third man coming his way, his hand behind his back like he was reaching for something. Remy didn’t know if it was a knife, a gun, or some other weapon, but he wasn’t going to let the man get it the rest of the way out. Unable to contain his inner wolf any longer, Remy snarled low in his throat, an animalistic warning that would be unmistakable to even the dimmest bulb in the box. The idiot coming at him must have been at least a little brighter than that because he stopped in his tracks, his hand still behind his back.

“You might want to reconsider your plan,” Remy warned. “Because if that hand comes out with anything in it, you’re going to learn just how far out of your weight class you really are.” The guy stared at him for a moment, then glanced at his two buddies where they were lying on the floor rolling around in pain before finally eyeing the lawyer, who was paler than his white linen suit and obviously not going to be of any help. Shoulders slumping, the man’s hand slowly came out from behind his back, empty. “You want to call the police?” Remy asked Gemma as he continued to keep his eyes on the third man. “No,” she said. Remy frowned. “You sure? These guys threatened you.” The lawyer opened his mouth to say something, likely full of bullshit concerning the legal threshold for establishing the conveyance of a threat or some other crap that Remy really didn’t care to hear. Remy glared at the man, letting his eyes flash gold for a split second. The old man swallowed his words and looked like he might do the same to his tongue. “I hate lawyers, so don’t talk,” Remy said. When it was obvious the man was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, Remy turned to Gemma. “You sure about not calling the police? What if these guys come back?” Gemma’s mouth curved. “I think they’ve gotten the message. This shop and the things in it are not for sale. Is that understood, Mr. Murphy?”

When the lawyer nodded, Remy motioned with his head toward the door. He didn’t like the idea of not calling the police, but he understood Gemma’s reasoning. She wanted these people gone and probably thought he’d scared them enough to keep them away for good. He hoped she was right. But as the lawyer and the uninjured thug helped the other two jerks off the floor and out the door, he couldn’t miss the angry looks on their faces. They’d been embarrassed, and they were pissed. Remy had a bad feeling this might not be the last time he saw them. Then he caught sight of Triana standing by the door, watching the men hobble out. She hadn’t said a word or even moved the entire time the confrontation had taken place, but now her heart was thudding like a drum and she was breathing fast. She was scared to death, and if the way she was looking at Remy was any indication, what she’d just seen him do likely had as much to do with her fear as the fact that a bunch of lowlifes had threatened her mother.

*** Triana decided she must be in shock. She wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten upstairs, other than a vague recollection of Remy steering her that way. She hadn’t even realized Murphy was at the shop until Remy had tightened his hold on her hand and practically dragged her there almost faster than her feet could move. Triana’s stomach had clenched the moment she’d seen that creepy old lawyer and his scary friends. The fact that they

were there trying to intimidate her mom was obvious, not to mention terrifying. Those three men were big, and they looked like they were eager to hurt someone. “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” Remy asked softly as they sat down at the kitchen table. “Tea, maybe? Or something stronger?” Triana shook her head. “No, I’m okay. I just need time to process everything. It all happened so fast.” Fast was an understatement. One moment, her mother had been talking about the lawyer making an offer for the shop and everything in it, and the next, Remy was beating up Murphy’s goons. The entire thing couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but while Triana had been freaking out, her heart thundering in her chest as she tried to understand why they hadn’t called the police, her mother had acted like a brawl in the middle of her shop wasn’t a big deal. After Murphy and his crew left, her mom had gone about her business while Triana stood there gaping like a fish out of water, saying she was heading out to attend an emergency meeting of the local shop owners about coordinating preparations for the storm in the event it turned in New Orleans’s direction. Then her mother gave her and Remy hugs and told him to bring his friends over for dinner tomorrow night, before flipping over the closed sign and walking out. Triana tucked her hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. “Are you sure it was safe to let Mom go out there on her own? What if those men are waiting somewhere out there?”

Remy reached across the table and took her hands in his. She couldn’t help noticing how small hers looked compared to his and that they’d stopped shaking the moment he touched her—as if he was some kind of security blanket she liked to hold on to. Triana cringed a little at that admission. She might work for a crime lab that supported the Houston Police Department, but clearly she wasn’t built for tense situations. She’d been worthless down in the shop. “Those men are currently on their way to the nearest emergency room,” Remy assured her. “They have no interest in anything beyond pain relief at the moment.” Triana supposed she could believe that. She was pretty sure she’d heard bones break when those two thugs had tried to get in Remy’s way. She had no idea how he’d done it, but maybe it had something to do with his SWAT training. Hopefully those goons had been scared off for good. The idea that they might come after her mother at some point when Remy wasn’t there scared the crap out of her. Regardless of what Remy said, something told her there was a good chance those men, or others like them, would come back. And she and Remy would both be going back to Texas soon. “All that stuff about buying the shop is BS,” she said quietly. “While I’m sure Murphy and whoever he’s working for would be thrilled to get his hands on this place—it’s worth a thousand times what Mom’s family paid for it back in the day—the offer to buy it is about the necklace my father wore. I guess they thought she’d take one look at the

amount on the check and forget about taking the necklace with her when she moved.” Remy gently caressed her hand with his fingers. “But you knew your mom wouldn’t sell, right?” Triana nodded. “Deep down, yeah. This place has been in her family for a long time. It’s where all her memories are, especially those she made with my dad.” She smiled as she thought about the conversation she and her mother had earlier, when she’d told Triana she’d fallen for her father the moment they’d met. “What?” Remy asked softly. She shook her head. “Nothing. Just something Mom told me today about her and Dad. It was a special memory she has of him and this place and is yet another reason she’d never sell the shop. Not voluntarily, anyway.” “And she’s not going to have to,” Remy said firmly. “If Gemma has any more problems with these people, my guys and I will go pay Murphy a visit. We may look like poster children for Officer Friendly, but trust me, we can be very persuasive when we want to be.” She laughed. She was sure that if Remy or any of those other big cops from Dallas showed up at Murphy’s office, the guy would probably flee the city within the hour. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but she felt better knowing Remy would do something personally if those jerks threatened her mother again. “I can see you being very persuasive, considering how quickly you handled those guys downstairs earlier,” she said. “Speaking of which, how were you were able to push

them around so easily? I know you have training on your side, but those men were nearly as big as you.” He chuckled. “It’s my experience that size rarely matters as much as people thinks it does. Most of the time, it usually comes down to locating that one sensitive spot on the other person, then knowing what to do with it when you find it.” Triana lifted a brow. “Are we still talking about how you handled those goons downstairs?” He gave her a sexy half smile, and she realized he’d been playing with her, trying to get her to stop stressing over the stuff she’d seen downstairs. It was amazing how he could be so in tune with her emotions and what she needed at any particular moment. She was still thinking about that and all the stuff her mom had said about falling fast simply being a way of knowing you’d found the right person you were meant to be with, when Remy suddenly pushed back his chair and stood, tugging her to her feet. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you what I mean.” Curious about what he meant by that, Triana let him guide her across the kitchen and through the living room, into the short hallway that led to her old bedroom. Her heart began to beat faster all over again, but now it was for a different reason. Remy stopped and turned so suddenly she almost ran right into his chest. Before she could move, he put a hand on her shoulder and gently nudged her up against the wall in the hallway. Her pulse skipped a beat. It was kind of crazy how

fast he could get her going. Triana thought he was going to kiss her, but instead of capturing her mouth with his, he stayed where he was, one big hand on her shoulder pinning her to the wall. “Now imagine that I’m one of those thugs from downstairs,” he said. “What do you do?” She stared up at him, sure he was kidding. That was definitely not the image she wanted in her head right then. “Is now really the best time for a lesson in self-defense?” “Something else you’d rather be doing?” he asked, a knowing smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, there is.” “Great,” he said. “Then show me what you’d do and we can move on to that something else you’d rather be doing.” She considered trying to distract him with a kiss, but the firm set of his jaw dissuaded her. He was serious about this. Sighing, she gazed up at him, trying to imagine what she could do if a man as tall and muscular as Remy were pinning her to a wall like this. After a moment, she shrugged. “I guess I would punch the guy.” “Where?” She looked at Remy like he was speaking a foreign language. “Where?” “Yeah,” he said. “Where would you punch me?” She lifted her hand and balled it into a fist, then gently rested it on the side of his strong, sexy, scruff-covered jaw. That’s where everyone got punched in movies. “Here?” she asked.

He frowned. “Not unless you want to break your hand. Remember what I said earlier about finding that one sensitive spot on the other person?” She couldn’t resist a teasing little smile. “And your sensitive spot would be…?” His mouth quirked. “There’s the obvious one, and if you can kick or knee a guy there, it will definitely work. But if all you can do is punch, there are other places just as sensitive.” “Like?” she prompted, hating the idea that she might need to know this kind of stuff. He pointed at a spot just below his sternum, right in the center. “There’s the solar plexus. A hard strike to this area will definitely knock the wind out of someone and give you time to run.” He tapped his index finger to the side of his head. “A punch to the temple is going to hurt your hand, but it will temporarily stun most people. If you don’t think you can hit a person there hard enough, grab the top of the ear and yank. That will definitely take the fight out of the toughest bad guy. However, if you only have one chance to hit a person and it’s life or death, aim for the throat, and punch as hard as you can. At the very least, it will give you time to get away.” Triana leaned against the wall, praying she was never in a position to have to do any of the things Remy had showed her. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to. “Okay,” he said softly. While he still towered over her, his expression was less serious than it had been before. “Selfdefense lesson is over for the evening. Sorry I spoiled the

mood we had going on there, but with what happened downstairs earlier, I felt it was something we needed to talk about, and I didn’t want to let it wait.” She nodded. “I understand. And you didn’t spoil the mood.” His smile told her he was fully aware she was fibbing her butt off. “Why don’t you change and we’ll get out of here? Everyone is probably wondering where we are.” When Remy took a step back, she grabbed his hand, pulling him back. He gave her a questioning look, but before he could say anything, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what?” he asked. “For being more worried about me and my safety than you are about getting naked with me. It sounds like something any guy would do, but trust me when I tell you, it isn’t. Most men are so focused on what’s important to them that they’d never tell a girl something she really needed to hear, no matter how badly she needed to hear it, if it got in the way of what they wanted.” He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed at the compliment. “That’s me—Sir Remy Lancelot, your knight in shining armor.” “Actually, that’s exactly what I’m starting to think you are,” she said. Before he could say anything else self-deprecating and humble, she pulled him down for another kiss. And this time, she did it forcefully enough to convince him he

definitely hadn’t spoiled any mood. Triana knew she had him when his hands went around to cup her bottom and tug her hard against him. She could already feel his cock hardening in his jeans as his tongue slipped into her mouth and tangled with hers. Her body immediately responded to his touch, desire spiraling through her to coalesce between her thighs. Clearly, it took very little on his part to get her going. If the hard-on in his jeans was any indication, she was good at getting him going too. That’s why it surprised her when Remy lifted his head and took a step back. “I really was serious about what I said earlier. If we don’t get moving, we’re going to be late meeting up with everyone at the club. I know you really wanted to go dancing.” She slid one hand down to the front of his jeans, caressing the bulge she found there. “I definitely want to go dancing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a quickie first.” Remy’s beautiful hazel eyes glinted, reflecting every ray of light in the hallway. “A quickie, huh?” She tugged at his belt, unbuckling it. “I told you this morning that I can work fast when I have to, so I guess the real question is, can you?” “Tell me you have a condom nearby.” His voice was a husky whisper, making her legs quiver. “Then you’ll see how fast I can work.” Triana expected to find Remy naked and in her bed by the time she ran back from grabbing the condom out of the purse she’d left on the couch, but instead, he was standing

in the hallway, his T-shirt still on and his jeans down around his ankles, his gorgeous hard-on at the ready. Okay, he really did intend to work quickly. She could handle that. As difficult as it was to do, she resisted the urge to drop to her knees in front of him and instead helped him get the condom on. The moment she had that extremely enjoyable task done, she reached for the hem of her dress, ready to yank it over her head. She never got the chance because Remy pressed her back up against the wall and shoved the dress up to her waist. Excitement rushed through her at the idea of making love with most of their clothes still on. There was something so urgent and primal about it. She hooked her fingers in her panties so she could push them down, but Remy grabbed her hands and pinned them to the wall above her head with one of his. “I’ll get those for you.” Triana gasped as she felt something sharp graze the skin along her hip. A moment later, there was a tug and a ripping sound, then the remnants of her panties were flying through the air. She wondered briefly where the heck he’d hidden a pocketknife, but then he released her wrists to nudge the underside of her chin, tipping her face up to his. At the same time, the fingers of his other hand traced along the folds of her pussy, making her gasp. “How did you get my panties off like that?” she whispered. Remy flashed her a grin, then pressed his lips to her neck. “SWAT magic,” he murmured in her ear. “You don’t have a problem with a little magic, do you?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the words came out as nothing more than a moan as his mouth did amazing things to the sensitive skin of her neck while one of his fingers slipped inside her. “Well, I was planning to wear those panties tonight when we went out dancing,” she finally gasped as his finger wiggled around, making her wetter by the second. “I guess that means you’ll just have to go out tonight without any panties,” he said with a deep chuckle. “What a shame.” Triana whimpered. Like she needed another visual to get her more excited. The thought of going dancing without wearing anything under her dress was scandalous and something she never would have done with anyone but Remy. She was about to tell him as much, but he chose that moment to slip his finger out of her wetness. Getting a firm grip on her hips with both hands, he lifted her up and pinned her against the wall. She didn’t have time to wonder how he was able to hold her there so effortlessly because in the next breath, he buried himself deep inside her. She gasped loud enough to be heard out on the street as he moved his hands to the underside of her ass and thrust into her urgently. All she could do was wrap her arms and legs around him and hold on for dear life as he took her harder than anyone ever had. She’d never been with a man so strong, so animalistic…so perfect. As she buried her face against Remy’s strong shoulder while she came, Triana couldn’t imagine not being in his

arms for the rest of her life.

Chapter 10 Triana had been sure her mother had lost her mind when she’d set three big cast-iron pots on the stove that morning to make dinner for Remy and his friends. “It’s just the four of them. You know that, right?” Triana said as she helped her mom chop mountains of peppers, onions, celery, and herbs. “They can’t eat this much jambalaya, or we’ll have to roll them down the steps.” “Don’t worry about that,” her mother laughed. “Something tells me those boys are going to show up here with an appetite.” It turned out her mother had been right. Remy and his three friends had oohed and aahed in appreciation of the aroma coming from the kitchen before they’d even gotten upstairs to the dining room. And once they’d started eating, they hadn’t messed around. They’d put away more of the thick, spicy stew than Triana would have ever thought possible. And that was on top of the huge tray of corn bread they’d demolished. How the heck could guys who looked like they did eat like that? Triana put on weight just

watching them. “You have to give me this recipe,” Max told her mother as he inhaled another piece of corn bread, then helped himself to seconds—or whatever it was called when someone ate six bowls of anything. “I have to make this the next time I’m running the grills at the cookouts we have at our SWAT compound in Dallas.” “I’ll write everything down for you,” her mother promised. “If you’re making it on a grill, you’ll have to watch the heat and stir it constantly, or all the rice will sink to the bottom and burn to a crisp.” Sitting there at the table in a dining room that had started feeling way too lifeless since her father had died and listening to her mom share jambalaya cooking tips with Max made Triana smile. She hadn’t realized it until now, but Remy and his friends reminded her a lot of her father. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she thought so exactly. None of them looked like him or acted like him. They simply had a presence that struck her as familiar. She was almost certain her mother felt it, too, which was probably why she was having such a good time. Triana was still thinking about that when she realized Remy was looking at her in a way that had her stomach doing backflips. Their eyes locked, and while everyone around them was laughing and talking, she and Remy simply shared a moment alone in a room full of people. There was no denying it. She was falling for Remy—hard. Even though she’d known him since high school, she’d only been seeing him romantically for three days, but she already

wanted to spend time with him after they both went back to Texas at the end of the week. Dallas and Houston were only a few hours’ drive from each other. If she and Remy wanted to, they could make it work. If anyone had told her she’d have these kinds of thoughts about a guy so soon after getting involved with him, she would have told them they were crazy, then tightened the straps on their straitjackets herself and called for a pickup wagon. But it wasn’t crazy. She’d never met anyone like Remy, and no matter how much she got of him, she always found herself wanting more. Part of it was the amazing sexual chemistry between them. There was no denying that. She loved sex as much as the next girl, but with Remy she didn’t just love it—she craved it all the time. That quickie in the hallway last night had been amazing and probably should have left her satiated for days. Instead, after a couple of hours dancing with him at a club on Bourbon Street, she’d dragged him back to his hotel room for another round of lovemaking that probably qualified as an out-of-body experience. Even more than the sexual cravings, there was something about being with Remy that made her happy. Whether they were walking quietly hand in hand down the street or chatting about the storm in the Gulf and where it might end up, Triana found herself feeling the way she imagined people felt when they were in love. Loud laughter pulled her attention back to the conversation, and as she gave herself a mental shake, she swore from the knowing look Remy gave her that he

somehow knew what she’d been thinking. It wouldn’t have surprised her. She already thought he was some kind of superhero with powers and abilities far beyond that of mortal man. How else could he be so amazing? “Cooper wanted to do something special for his new bride to show her how much he loves her, but he also wanted it to be something she would never see coming in a million years,” Max was saying, and it took Triana a moment to figure out they were talking about one of the other guys on the Dallas SWAT team who’d recently gotten married. “So he got the whole team together and we came up with a choreographed line dance to the song ‘Howlin’ for You’ by the Black Keys.” “Let’s just say there’s a reason most of us are cops and not dancers,” Brooks said with a pointed look at Zane. “The whole thing was supposed to be sexy, but it ended up being hilarious. Everly, Cooper’s wife, practically passed out she laughed so hard.” Triana’s mother smiled. “And you all danced?” “Only because we didn’t want to let Cooper down,” Zane said. “But since I have absolutely no rhythm, I mostly stood there looking cool and snapping my fingers to the beat.” Triana wasn’t so sure of that. She’d seen Zane and Kim dance together last night, and he seemed to have plenty of moves as far as she could tell. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Max already had Zane on his feet and was attempting to show him how to do the dance they’d done at the wedding. Despite what she’d seen last night on the dance floor, it turned out that Zane honestly didn’t have any

rhythm. Then again, he didn’t have any music to work with so that could have been part of the problem. “You gotta loosen up those hips, dude,” Brooks said in between laughing. “You dance like you have a stick shoved up your butt.” Zane tried, he really did, but it was hopeless. Triana laughed so much she almost fell out of her chair. If she stayed and watched the British SWAT cop try to dance any longer, tears were going to start running down her face and that would just make a mess of her makeup. “I’m going to get the dessert,” she said to Remy. When he made as if to join her, she shook her head. “Stay. I’m just going to slice the cake and bring it out. Hang out here and make Mom laugh some more.” In the kitchen, Triana took the big chocolate cake out of the fridge, then grabbed plates from the cabinet. When her mother had frosted the layer cake earlier, Triana had been sure most of it would go to waste, considering how much jambalaya she’d made. But after seeing those guys in there eat, she figured there wouldn’t be a crumb left. As she sliced the cake, Triana wondered when she should bring up the idea to Remy of continuing their relationship long distance. She was so distracted, she hadn’t even realized she’d cut herself with the knife until she felt a sting along one side of her left index finger. Crap. She jerked her hand away from the cake, afraid she was going to get blood on it. She’d barely gotten her hand under the faucet so she could wash it off and see how bad it was

when she felt someone beside her. She turned to see Remy standing there, a look of concern on his face. Damn, he was quiet for someone of his size. She hadn’t even heard him come in. “Let me see how bad it is,” he said, taking her hand and pushing it under the faucet, then gently washing away the blood. Triana opened her mouth to tell him it was nothing and that she could take care of it, but the words got stuck in her throat at the worry on his face. She glanced at her finger, thinking maybe the cut was worse than she’d thought. But it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was a little nick less than half an inch long and not as bad as some paper cuts she’d had. You wouldn’t have known that from the care Remy took tending to the cut. He washed it out with soap and water, then put pressure on it to stop the bleeding, while drying the rest of her hand with a towel. “Where does your mother keep her Band-Aids?” he asked. She was going to tell him that she could get it, but one look at his face changed her mind. “On the lower shelf of the linen closet in the hallway.” Triana expected him to go get it, but instead, he stood there holding her finger tightly, his expression thoughtful. While she certainly enjoyed him holding her hand, she was a little confused at the same time. They certainly couldn’t stay like this for the rest of the night. She opened her mouth to point out that everyone was probably waiting for dessert when Zane walked in with the box of Band-Aids. The British SWAT officer didn’t say a

word but simply set the box on the counter, then walked out. Triana stared after him. “How did he…?” she began, but the words trailed off as Remy opened the paper wrapping of the Band-Aid and applied it to her cut. “Thanks,” she said. “I never thought of first aid as romantic, but now I see I was wrong.” He arched a brow. “Romantic, huh? I’ve never thought of it that way, but maybe I have a different definition of the word than you do.” Triana raised up on tiptoe and kissed him, wrapping her arms around him to pull him close. “Does that fit your definition of romantic better?” Remy nodded, giving her another kiss, this one long and lingering. Her body quivered in response, and she glided one hand down to caress the bulge in his jeans. “Think anyone would noticed if we slipped into my room for a quickie?” she asked teasingly. “I promise not to make too much noise.” He chuckled softly. “As tempting as that is, I think someone might come looking for us.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re probably right. Promise to make it up to me later?” He kissed her again, making her weak in the knees. “Count on it.”

*** “So, now that the locals are gone, are you going to tell me

what the hell has been occupying that so-called mind of yours?” Max asked. Remy frowned across the table at the younger werewolf. He and Max had joined some of the NOPD SWAT team for lunch after Drew and Brooks had put an early halt to the morning’s training so they could make that afternoon’s work more difficult. Since there’d been fifteen of them, the waitress had shown them to a back room reserved for parties, but now that the other cops had left, he and Max had the place to themselves. “Nothing,” he lied. Max snorted. “Bullshit. You were so preoccupied during training this morning that you tossed a 180-pound body dummy over your shoulder and hopped an eight-foot-high chain-link fence like it wasn’t even there. Gage told us not to do crap like that.” Remy opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped himself. Maybe he had done something that stupid. He wasn’t sure. The morning had been kind of a blur. In fact, he barely remembered any of the combined physical fitness and tactical movement training Drew had put together for them. It wasn’t his fault. The training, which consisted of humping heavy gear and rescue dummies, climbing buildings, and shooting pop-up targets, hadn’t been very challenging. Unfortunately, that had left him with lots of time to think about other stuff—like Triana. “Did anyone see me do it?” he asked. Max waited until the waitress dropped off their second orders of burgers and fries and left the room before

answering. “No. No one saw you do it but Brooks and me.” Max reached for the bottle of ketchup. “So what the hell is bothering you?” Remy glanced out the window at the light drizzle coming down. That morning, the weather experts had announced that Ophelia had changed direction and was now moving along a more northerly track. While New Orleans wouldn’t get hit with the worst of the storm, it would still get wet. The outermost rain bands of Ophelia had started coming ashore an hour ago, dropping rain all the way from Mobile in the east to Lafayette in the west. “I’m just worried about this thing with Aaron Lee,” Remy said, turning back to Max. “It’s been two days and we haven’t heard anything from the informant in his organization. For all we know, the guy—if it is a guy— could be dead by now.” “I hear ya.” Max dumped half a bottle of ketchup on his plate, completely drowning his waffle fries, then took a big bite out of his cheeseburger. “How’s everything going with Triana?” Remy cringed. He should have known Max wouldn’t buy his crap about the informant. While he was worried about the informant risking his, or her, life to put Aaron Lee behind bars, that wasn’t what had his head spinning in circles. That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it though. “Good,” Remy said noncommittally as he focused on his food. He stayed away from the ketchup, preferring to taste the food he was paying for, not the free bottle of crushed

tomatoes on the table. “We have a lot of fun together.” “You have a lot of fun together,” Max mimicked, imitating Remy’s casual tone. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell is wrong with you?” Remy ground his teeth. Did Max even have a filter on that damn mouth of his? “What do you mean?” “It means you’re full of shit,” Max said. “I haven’t been a werewolf long enough to know if you’re sending out those signals that some of the others can pick up on telling them if you’re lying, but I don’t need to be a werewolf to figure it out. Don’t tell me you haven’t realized just how special Triana is, because the rest of us sure as hell have.” “I’ve already said we have a lot of fun together,” Remy pointed out. Max shoved a waffle fry in his mouth. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re scared.” Remy gave him a sharp look. “Scared of what?” “Scared that Triana is so special.” Remy shook his head. “It’s not like that. Just drop it, okay?” But Max didn’t drop it. Instead, he reached across the table and poked Remy hard in the chest, making his chair slide back a few feet. “It’s not like that?” Max snarled, his eyes rimmed in gold. “Then maybe you can tell me how it is, because I’m not seeing it.” Remy stared at him. Like any newer werewolf, Max sometimes had control issues, but Remy had no idea why

the guy was so pissed at him. “Things with her are happening too fast, that’s all,” Remy said, pulling his chair in. Max frowned. “What do you mean, it’s happening too fast?” Remy sighed, wishing he didn’t have to talk about this but knowing Max would never let it go. “I was thrilled when we ran into Triana in that club Sunday night,” he said. “She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman I enjoy spending time with, but I never wanted it to go beyond that.” Max opened his mouth to say something, but Remy cut him off. “Unfortunately, it’s too late for that, and now things are getting…strange.” Max downed another waffle fry. “Define strange.” “Remember when Triana nicked her finger with the knife last night?” Max nodded. “Yeah. I smelled the blood the same time you did.” Remy sighed. “I knew she cut her finger before I smelled the blood.” Max frowned. “What? How?” “That’s where the strange part comes in. I knew it the moment it happened. I didn’t smell it. I didn’t hear it. I frigging felt it.” “What do mean, you felt it?” Remy shook his head. “I know it’s crazy. I was sitting there watching you trying to teach Zane to dance, then I felt a twinge of pain in my left index finger. I didn’t even know what it meant, but I was up and heading for the kitchen

anyway.” Max’s eyes widened. “Okay, that’s freaky.” “No kidding. And it’s something that’s been building since I saw her on Sunday night. Triana is getting under my skin like you wouldn’t believe.” Remy stared down at his halfeaten cheeseburger. “After I bandaged her finger, she asked if I wanted to go to her room for a quickie.” “I heard,” Max said. “So Triana is wild. Nothing wrong with that.” “The problem is I’m finding it nearly impossible to say no to her,” Remy said. “It’s like I’m addicted to her.” Max grinned. “As addictions go, I think I could deal with it. Yeah, feeling things she feels is a little weird, but I’m still not understanding your major malfunction with this situation.” Remy cursed silently. Why did this have to be so frigging complicated? “When we got back to my room last night, we ended up making love for hours, and it was amazing.” “Is the malfunction showing up at some point?” Max interrupted. “Or are you just rubbing it in?” “I’m getting to it,” Remy snapped. “As Triana lay there on my chest afterward, she whispered something I can’t stop thinking about.” “What?” Max quipped. “‘Worst sex ever’?” Remy bit back a snarl. “No, you stupid dumb-ass. She whispered that this—us…her and me together—is something she could really get used to.” Max stared at him as if he was a pig wearing a Rolex. “Damn, you’re slow,” Remy growled. “Max, we’ve been

together for four frigging days and Triana is already thinking long-term. While I didn’t exactly freak out, I definitely tensed when she said it, and I think she picked up on it.” “Shit,” Max muttered. “You sure?” Remy shrugged. “She didn’t say anything else to me the rest of the night and didn’t give me more than a quick kiss when I left the hotel room this morning. I didn’t do it to upset her, but when she said those words, they set off alarms.” Not to mention made him want to run for the frigging hills. Even that might not be far enough to forget about Triana and the things she was making him feel. Max didn’t say anything. Instead, he seemed to be considering that as he ate the rest of his fries and wolfed down what was left of his cheeseburger. When he finally finished chewing, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. “Okay, I thought about it and I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from, but I don’t get it. You have a beautiful woman who’s crazy attracted to you. She also happens to be an old friend, so she has that going for her too. Then there’s the whole sexual-chemistry thing, and apparently she’s already excited about the idea of a future with you. So, what the hell is the problem again?” Remy cursed. “It’s not that simple.” “It seems pretty simple to me,” Max said. “You’ve found The One for you, so what’s all the drama about? You’re like the sixth member of the Pack who’s found theirs in the past year. Seven, if you count Khaki. I’m not really sure if

that counts as one or two since she fell for Xander, and I already took him into account. Now that I think about it, I’d count her in the total number, since she’s part of the Pack now.” Remy ignored the rest of Max’s rambling babble. The One. Remy had avoided even thinking about that term over the past few days, telling himself there was nothing more going on between him and Triana than an old friendship and some epic sexual chemistry. There was a part of him that had known he was lying to himself, of course. But he did that a lot, and was completely okay with it. Now, he couldn’t avoid the obvious anymore. The thought that Max was right and Triana was almost certainly the one-in-a-billion soul mate he was destined to be with for the rest of his life started a panic attack like nothing Remy had ever experienced. One second he was hyperventilating, and the next he was starting to shift. They might have been in the backroom of the restaurant, but there were probably forty people twenty feet away, and there he was completely wolfing out. His fangs and claws extended, his facial bones reformed, his nose began to push out, and every muscle in his body started to twist and spasm as it attempted to assume a shape that sure as hell wasn’t appropriate for his current environment. If he hadn’t been freaking out at that moment, Remy would have taken the time to wonder how it was possible for him to shift so fast. Unfortunately, he was freaking out, and all he could do was attempt to get a grip on himself, slow down his breathing, and shove the beast back inside its

cage. But no matter how hard he fought, it wasn’t working. He was going to completely lose it. Right there. Right then. Remy was about to get up and launch himself out the window, praying he could make it into the wooded area behind the restaurant without anyone seeing him, when he felt a stabbing pain in his hand. He looked down at his hands stretched out on the table in front of him, inch-long claws extending from the tips of each finger. The ring finger on his left hand had been dislocated at the second knuckle and now lay twisted to the side at a weird angle. As he tried to make sense of that, Max grabbed the pinky finger beside it and twisted that one too. Shit, that hurt. When the pain of the ligaments starting to give way finally broke through the panic racing through his body, Remy’s control snapped back into place. His facial features returned to normal, then his fangs and claws retracted, and finally the long muscles of his legs and back calmed down and stopped spasming. He popped his two fingers back into place as Max swiped a waffle fry off his plate. Remy resisted the urge to stab him with a fork. “What the hell is up with you?” Max asked after all Remy’s parts were back in place. “I’ve never seen you lose control. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of the Pack lose it as bad as you just did. Well, maybe Carter, but he’s always had issues.” Remy grabbed his iced tea and downed the entire glass in a few swallows. Then he sat there a while trying to get his

heart rate back to normal when all it wanted to do was start racing all over again at the knowledge that Triana was The One for him. He had a sudden urge to ask the waitress to bring in a couple of bottles of the strongest whiskey they had behind the bar, but decided against it. Not only would it look bad as hell to have a cop in a Dallas PD uniform sucking down booze with his lunch, but Max wouldn’t have let him do it anyway. The idiot would probably sit there cheerfully breaking his fingers for the rest of the afternoon. “I’ve been in love before,” he finally said. “Her name was Jess, and she was my partner in the U.S. Marshals, back before I became a werewolf.” Max was so stunned he stopped, the waffle fries he’d stolen from Remy’s plate halfway to his mouth. “No shit?” “No shit,” Remy confirmed. “I was naive enough to believe having a relationship with my partner wouldn’t lead to trouble at some point. It was against the rules, but I was young, cocky, and thought I knew it all. I figured I could have everything I wanted without having to pay the price. It turned out I was wrong.” “What happened?” Max asked. “We went after some assholes who’d broken out of the federal prison in Leavenworth and ended up trying to take them down without backup. My relationship with Jess made me lose focus at the wrong time. It got her killed and turned me into a werewolf.” On the other side of the table, Max stared at him. “That’s it? You were in love, she died, and now you aren’t

interested in women anymore? Wait a minute. What am I saying? I’ve seen you go out with lots of women. Hell, I’ve never known you to not be with a woman.” Remy shrugged. “That’s different. Sure, I like women— I’m an alpha frigging werewolf. It’s just that I have no interest in anything serious with any of them. I let them know I’m in it for the fun and I only go out with women looking for the same thing. I rarely see any woman more than three or four times, except a select few. But those are special cases because both parties involved know it’s just a sexual thing. We’re both comfortable with the fact that we’re using each other for sex.” Max shook his head as he pilfered more fries from Remy. “Damn. I’m a guy and even I think that’s messed up. You’ve committed your life to a series of meaningless fucks because a woman you were serious about died in the line of duty? You can’t really believe that Jess’s death is on your hands. I don’t know the particulars, but she probably would have died even if you hadn’t been sleeping with her.” “But I was sleeping with her, and she did die.” Remy held up his hands so Max could see his palms. “See that?” “See what?” “The blood.” Max lifted a brow. “Dude, maybe we can set you up with that shrink who talked to Cooper a while ago. He might even be able to text you her number, so you can call her now.” “I don’t need to talk to a shrink,” Remy ground out. Max looked doubtful. “I think maybe you do, because

there’s no blood on your hands—figurative or otherwise.” Remy stared down at his hands. “That’s funny, because I see it all the time.” He pinned Max with a look. “Watch someone you love die in your arms when you could have done something to prevent it, then tell me there’s no blood on your hands.” Max sighed. “Okay. You blame yourself for your partner’s death. I get that. I hate to tell you this, but none of that matters. Because whether you want it to happen or not, Triana is The One for you. You’re going to have to come up with a way to deal with that.” Remy didn’t bother denying it this time, not even to himself. He shook his head in disgust at his own stupidity. The moment he’d seen Triana on the dance floor, he’d known there was something special there. He should have run the other fucking way then, but instead he’d convinced himself he could reach out and play with fire for a little while and not get burned by the werewolf legend that had bonded the other members of his pack with their soul mates. He’d been wrong. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or throw up. Of all the guys in the Pack who’d been secretly looking forward to finding The One for them, it had happened to him, the one werewolf who’d been praying it wouldn’t. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Max sat there silently, apparently waiting for Remy to wake up and realize there was nothing he could do about the situation and that he was simply going to have to accept it. Panic punched him in the gut. After what he’d gone

through with Jess, not to mention the aftermath, he promised himself he’d never get close to anyone else. The mere thought of going through the pain of seeing another woman he loved die in his arms was almost enough to bring another shift on. “I’m not going to deal with it,” he told Max. “This is my fucking life and I’m not going to let some stupid legend decide how I live it. When I go back to Dallas, I’m going without Triana.” Max regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then snorted. “That’s your big plan? You’re going to stand up to this magical force from the cosmos that has been making some of the strongest werewolves in the Pack jump through hoops and just tell it to fuck off?” “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Remy growled. Max reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, yanking out enough twenties to cover both their meals. It was only right, since the waffle-fry-stealing punk had eaten most of the food anyway. After tossing the money on the table, Max gave him a curious look. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you have a frigging screw loose, so I’ve stopped expecting anything you say to make sense, but let me ask you one thing. What the hell are you so worried about?” Remy swallowed hard. “I’m worried that I’ll have to live every second of my life looking over my shoulder, worried a mistake I make is going to get Triana killed.” Max shook his head. “Yup, you’re beyond mental. Damn, Remy. Triana isn’t Jess. She’s not a cop; she’s a scientist in a

lab, complete with the funny white jacket and a magnifying glass. She’s not in any danger.” Remy got up from the table and headed for the door, not even bothering to reply. Max wouldn’t get it. How could he explain his gut was screaming that if he gave in and let Triana into his life, she’d be the one that would pay for his decision?

Chapter 11 Triana sat at a table in the back of the club on Dauphine Street with Kim, both of them trying their best to ignore the skeevy way the guys at the bar were leering at them. It was still early in the afternoon, and probably two or three hours before the normal evening crowd started trickling into the underground speakeasy to drink their fancy cocktails and listen to the blues musicians strum their instruments in the joint’s almost cave-like ambience, but that hadn’t stopped the half-dozen professional drinkers at the bar from starting early—or taking a marked interest in them. “This guy is showing, right?” Kim asked softly. Triana glanced at her watch. The man she and Kim were waiting to meet was already ten minutes late. Ten minutes wasn’t that late in this part of town, where it could take that long just to find a parking space, but with the guys at the bar eyeing her and Kim like they were candy in a vending machine, it felt a lot longer. “He’ll be here,” Triana said firmly. She had to believe that, if for no other reason than the fact

that she’d dragged Kim all the way down here with her in the first place. “You sound pretty convinced considering you don’t even know the name of the guy we’re supposed to be meeting,” Kim muttered. Triana couldn’t argue with that since it was true. But Bodine had promised the guy would be there, and she trusted Bodine. Mostly. She was here for one simple reason—she’d opened that sealed envelope of crime scene photos Bodine had given her. Everything had changed the moment she’d seen them. She knew she shouldn’t have looked, especially since Bodine had warned her against it, but she’d been digging through the rest of the files full of information on her father’s death early that morning and the plain brown envelope had been lying there, bugging her. So she’d opened it and pulled out the photos. She knew it wasn’t as much the need to see if there was new evidence in there as it was the curiosity of not knowing. She hated not knowing stuff. Part of her realized this sudden burst of curiosity probably had something to do with the fact that she didn’t know what was going on with Remy. Last night had been strange. She’d first picked up on the vibe at her mom’s place, during dessert. Remy had been looking at her, not with the interested, hungry expression she’d seen earlier, but almost with a distracted and distant one. She also noticed he hadn’t laughed too much the rest of the evening either. It had only gotten worse when they’d gone back to his

hotel room. Yes, they’d made love, and it had been beautiful and amazing. But afterward, Remy had been tense and hadn’t spoken more than a word or two as she’d fallen asleep on his chest. She was sure she’d done something wrong but had no idea what. She couldn’t help feeling Remy was pulling away from her all of a sudden. That had confused the hell out of her and left her sitting in her room at her mother’s apartment trying to figure out what had changed. When she couldn’t figure that puzzle out, she’d decided to work on another one instead. Unfortunately, once she’d spread the photos across the top of the small desk in her bedroom, she’d realized why Bodine hadn’t wanted her to see them. To say they were horrible was an understatement. She’d known her father had been shot multiple times, but she hadn’t been ready to see the amount of damage. She worked in an ME’s office, so she’d seen horrible things before and had dealt with them. She told herself she’d be able to look at them in a detached manner, maybe see a clue the police and Bodine had missed. She could treat it like another case at work. But this wasn’t another case. This was her father, and it was different. Tears in her eyes, she’d shoved the photos back in the envelope, never wanting to think of her father that way again, but it was too late. What she’d seen couldn’t be unseen. She’d never forget what those men had done to her father.

She was glad her mother had been out shopping at the time because she’d cried for a long time after that. Later, the pain and tears had turned to anger, and she’d started seething. That was when she’d vowed she would catch the people who had murdered her father. Suddenly, she didn’t want them in prison any longer; she wanted them dead. It was a horrible thing to think, but it was there, and she couldn’t act like it wasn’t. That was also about the time Bodine had called and told her he’d spent the night talking with a guy who’d heard someone bragging about killing a “mean old man in a jazz club and putting a bullet right in his head.” The man told Bodine it had been a while ago, but he still remembered the braggart clearly because the guy had been one big-ass dirtbag. Bodine had a good description and was going to start nosing around for the guy. “A big blowhard like him shouldn’t be too difficult to find. If he’s bragged about it once right out in the open in a bar, there’s a good chance he’s done it other times.” That had seemed like a reasonable plan, but with thoughts of her father’s violent murder still fresh in her mind, Triana said she wanted to meet the guy and talk to him personally. Bodine hadn’t been thrilled with the idea, but she’d insisted, pointing out she was the one paying the bills. Triana glanced at her watch again, then sighed. “What’s going on with you and Zane?” she asked Kim, hoping to distract herself from thoughts of how crazy it had been to come to a place like this to talk to a man who

obviously hung out in bars with murderers. Kim could probably use the distraction too. Kim smiled. “Nothing much. We mostly hang out and talk. He’s easy to talk to, and I have to admit, I could listen to that sexy accent of his all day.” Triana considered asking exactly what her friend meant by mostly but then reconsidered. It was obvious that Kim was more relaxed than she’d been since Shawn the Jerk had left her. If Zane was responsible for that, she was fine with it, regardless of what they did or didn’t do when they were together. Triana was just happy to see a smile on her friend’s face again. “Zane’s figured out I’m not really in a relationship place right now, that I’m rebounding and just need a way to get my frustrations out,” Kim continued. “We make out a little, but nothing serious. I don’t think it would be fair to Zane. He’s too amazing to jerk around. Besides, I’m still in love with Shawn, even if he isn’t in the picture anymore.” Triana tried to read between the lines of those last few sentences, still not sure if Kim and Zane were sleeping together, but something told her they weren’t. “How about you and Remy?” Kim asked. “Did you take my advice and use this week as a chance to make up for all that time you wasted back in high school?” Triana smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Kim said. “So, are you guys going to be doing the long-distance-relationship thing then?” Triana’s smiled faded at that. Before last night, she would have said the two of them were definitely heading in that

direction, but now, she didn’t think so. The ache in her chest hurt so much she could barely breathe. It was her own fault. She’d let things get a little out of control, started feeling things for Remy way too fast. “What’s wrong?” Kim asked. “Nothing.” Triana pasted on a fake smile. “We’ve had a lot of fun this week, but I don’t think there’s a future between Remy and me.” Kim’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything, movement near their table interrupted her. Triana lifted her head to see a skinny, gray-haired man standing there. The way he looked at her made her think he wasn’t all there, and Triana was doubly glad she’d asked Kim to come with here. Even though she had no idea what Kim would do to help in a scary situation involving this man. “Are you Triana?” he asked in a rough voice. Triana nodded, sure he must be the guy she was there to meet. He certainly fit the part of a man who spent a large part of his life in a bar. His voice had that distinctive throaty rasp she imagined came from a lifetime of living off booze and cigarettes. “That’s me,” she said. “Are you the person Marcus Bodine told me about?” The guy nodded but didn’t sit. Instead, he looked back and forth between her and Kim. “Marcus said you’d be here alone.” There was no question in the statement, just a simple declaration of fact. “I didn’t think it was a very good idea to come here alone,

so I brought my friend,” she said. The man regarded them for a moment, then nodded. “Probably smart. This joint can get a little rough when the alcohol starts pouring.” He glanced at the bar. “For some of these guys, it never stops.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m Dominic. Marcus told me about how you’re looking for the man who murdered your father. I told him everything I know about the guy I heard bragging about killing someone. It might have been your father or someone else, or maybe he just made it up. I know you probably want details, but I’m not sure what else I can tell you.” Triana really didn’t know what kind of details she was looking for, but as a forensic analyst, she knew that sometimes the littlest clues made all the difference. “Just tell me everything you remember from that night,” she said. “Sometimes, talking helps you remember stuff you thought you’d forgotten.” Dominic didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “I was barhopping that Thursday night. I remember because it was payday. It was also getting near closing time, around four o’clock in the morning maybe. Most of the tourist types were off the street. “There were a bunch of rough guys at the bar in this one place. Can’t for the life of me remember which place it was, though.” He shook his head. “Anyway, these guys were telling stories to prove to each other they were a bunch of badasses. Most of the stories were lame, like punching some drunk guy who was already too tanked to see it coming. “But then this big guy started telling this story about

walking into an empty jazz club and killing an old man. A lot of people laughed at first, but they all stopped when the dickhead started adding details about how many times the old man was shot and where. It got really graphic, and by the time he was done, half the bar had emptied out. No one wanted to be anywhere near this guy. He smelled like ten kinds of crazy wrapped up in a bag of horse crap.” Triana swallowed hard. “Tell me exactly what he said.” Dominic hesitated but then did as she asked. By the time he was done, Triana was convinced the man had definitely been talking about her father. He even said the old man had growled. That was something her father did when he was mad. “What did the man look like?” she asked Dominic. “Can you describe him?” Dominic thought about it for a while. “Like I said, he was a big man. I mean, the guy had muscles on top of muscles. He had a tattoo on his arm too—a ship’s anchor, I think.” Triana glanced at Kim, wondering if her friend was thinking the same thing she was, that maybe the guy had been a sailor or worked on a ship. New Orleans was a port city, so there were a lot of sailors. But how many would fit this guy’s description? He sounded like a man who’d stand out in a crowd. “Have you ever seen him again?” Triana asked. Dominic shook his head. “No, ma’am.” Regardless of what he looked like, Bodine would still need a lot of luck to find him, Triana thought. “Did you recognize anyone else who’d been at the bar that

night, someone who might know who this guy is?” Kim asked. The question seemed to catch Dominic off guard, but after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, actually I’m pretty sure I’ve seen some of those guys around before. They’re a group of us regulars who live in the bars of this town.” Triana tried to keep herself from getting too excited—and failed. “Do you think you could talk to some of those other guys, see if they might know the name of this big man?” Dominic looked concerned. “I don’t know about that. I understand you wanting to find this guy if he was the one who killed your father, but I wasn’t intending to get involved like that.” “I can pay you,” Triana said quickly. At the mention of money, Dominic’s whole demeanor changed. “How much?” She pulled out her purse, digging through it under the table until she came up with eighty-seven dollars. She shoved it across the table at him. “This is all I have on me, but if you find this guy, I’ll give you five hundred more.” That must have convinced him because he nodded, quickly scooping up the money. “If you give me your number, I’ll call as soon as I find out something.” Triana wasn’t thrilled to be handing out her number to a random stranger, but if this worked, she’d happily get a new phone number. Five minutes later, she and Kim left the bar and were walking down the street, glad that the on-again, off-again rain had decided to stop for a while. As she turned toward

her mother’s shop, Triana quickened her pace until she was practically running. This was going to work; she could just feel it. She was going to finally find the guy who murdered her father. She was still thinking about that possibility when Kim brought her crashing back down to earth a few minutes later. “Okay, I came with you to see that creepy guy, and I really hope something good comes of it, but right now I want to hear about you and Remy,” her friend said. “Why do you think you guys don’t have a future?” Triana sighed. Even though she didn’t want to talk about it, the words came tumbling out on their own and she told Kim everything, starting with the night she and Remy had first slept together and finishing with what had happened last night. She hadn’t intended to get emotional about the whole thing, but all her worries and doubts came rushing back to the surface, and before she knew it, she was crying. Not just for what she might have already lost, but for what now might never be at all.

*** Remy glanced over at Triana, where she sat in the booth across from him scanning the menu. He couldn’t miss the fact that she seemed more subdued than usual. Her heart was beating a little faster than it usually did and she was putting off a weird vibe. Then again, maybe it was the weather. It was making everything seem off. He looked out the big windows that

overlooked Lake Pontchartrain. The rain and wind had gotten stronger throughout the day, making him think it had probably been stupid to drive all the way out to the far side of the lake for dinner. But he’d wanted to take Triana someplace quiet and private so they could talk. On the other hand, coming to a restaurant that was a thirty-minute drive from her mother’s shop might not have been the best idea, considering the topic he planned to bring up tonight. He hated to do it, but after the conversation he’d had today with Max, it was obvious that he needed to be honest with Triana and tell her where things were—or rather weren’t—heading. The mere thought of telling her he wanted to stop seeing her was enough to make him want to throw up. He prayed she’d handle the breakup well. If not, he didn’t know what he would do. If he was lucky, Triana would be the one to suggest she wasn’t interested in seeing him after they got back to Texas, so he wouldn’t have to handle the chore. What a completely gutless piece of crap he was. Since he wasn’t very hungry, Remy didn’t really pay too much attention to the menu. His stomach was feeling a little tender anyway. A side effect of those burgers he’d eaten today at lunch, he supposed. He’d probably just get whatever Triana ordered. That turned out to be a seafood plate with shrimp, crabmeat, and steamed vegetables. It wasn’t something he would have normally ordered, but it would do for tonight. After the waitress left, an uncomfortable silence descended over the table. Remy searched for something to

say, wondering where the easy connection that had existed between them the past few days had gone. “Have you missed working with your team in Dallas this week?” Triana finally asked. Remy’s mouth edged up as he thought of his pack mates. Now that she mentioned it, he actually did miss them despite the fact that they could be irritating as hell sometimes. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he admitted. “I thought I’d enjoy some time away from the insanity that’s our lives on the Dallas SWAT team, but now that I’m here, I kind of feel like I’m missing a part of myself, you know?” She smiled. “Not really. I mean, I love my job at the crime lab, but outside of a few close friends, the only time I see most of them is during the annual Christmas party. I can’t imagine being so close with my coworkers that I’d think of them as family. It must be pretty awesome.” He chuckled, feeling a weight dropping off his shoulders as the tension that had been filling the space between them melted away, reawakening their vibrant connection. Maybe he could put off the serious part of the conversation until he dropped Triana off at her mother’s shop. “It is.” He couldn’t count how many times his pack mates had covered his ass on the job, even taking bullets for him when necessary. “There’s something special about knowing people will always have your back but will still call you out when you’re screwing up.” She laughed. “I can’t imagine you ever screwing up.” “We all screw up,” he said. “The thing that’s important is

having people around that you trust enough to get you out of trouble when it happens.” She considered that for a moment. “If the rest of your team is like Max, Brooks, and Zane, they must be pretty incredible. You must have a million stories about them.” That was an understatement. But if he told her any, he’d have to censor some of the best parts. He couldn’t have her figuring out the whole Dallas SWAT team was made up of werewolves. Remy rested his forearms on the table and grinned. “Well, if you want to hear a funny story, I should probably tell you about Cooper first. He met his future wife in line at the bank right before the place got held up.” “No way!” Triana’s eyes widened. “What happened?” “He arranged a date, then kicked the crap out of the bank robbers.” “Whoa.” Triana smiled. “How’d their date go?” “Exceptionally well,” Remy told her. “They met in June and got married two weeks ago.” “You’re full of it,” she said, smacking his arm. “You’re making that part up.” As the waitress set down their plates, Remy promised her he wasn’t joking. To prove it, over dinner, he went into greater detail about Cooper’s whirlwind romance with his wife, Everly. Triana laughed and asked lots of questions, saying it sounded insane but that she believed Remy. Before long, he found himself telling her about all the guys meeting their significant others, while leaving out all the werewolf stuff,

of course. A little while ago, he had wondered why he’d even brought Triana all the way out here in such crappy weather, and now he was beginning to think the tension he’d felt was all just a figment of his imagination. Hell, even his appetite was back. He’d absolutely demolished the plate of seafood in front of him. “Wait a minute,” Triana said with a laugh. “I think I’m picking up a theme with all these stories you’re telling me. Is it me, or do most of them revolve around your teammates getting themselves into crazy situations with women they just met?” Remy shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Relationships do seem to be the central theme of most of the insanity that’s been going on lately.” She sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Speaking of relationships, do you mind if I ask you something personal?” Remy’s gut clenched as he wondered where she was going with the question. Nowhere good that he could think of. But it wasn’t like he could say no, not without coming off weird. So he nodded—and prayed. “How is it possible that a guy as good-looking, sweet, and single as you hasn’t gotten seriously involved with anyone yet?” Triana asked. Remy felt his fingertips start to tingle, as if another shift was coming on. He forced himself to calm down as he tried to laugh off the question, not sure how to even begin to

answer it. “I guess I just haven’t met the right person yet,” he said. Triana’s gaze darted to him. Suddenly, he realized he’d left a lot of room for interpretation with that lame-ass answer. Shit. What if she assumed he was implying she was the right person? Which he supposed she was…just at the wrong time. But Triana didn’t bite one way or the other. “I think you’re avoiding the question,” she said. “Are you honestly telling me that with all of your teammates finding love in the most unusual of circumstances, you’ve never found anyone you thought might be the right person for you?” Remy swallowed hard. He couldn’t help thinking about what he’d had with Jess, but that wasn’t anything he wanted to get into. He had wanted to talk to Triana about their relationship, though—or at least the relationship they couldn’t have. Now was as good a time as any to do it. “There was someone,” he finally admitted quietly. “But that was a long time ago.” Triana looked stunned. “Did you love her?” He nodded, unable to say the words. On the other side of the table, Triana looked ashen. “What happened? Why didn’t it work out?” Damn, he didn’t want to get into this. “It’s something I’d really rather not talk about.” “Why not?” Remy gripped the edge of the table, afraid if he didn’t, he might shift at any moment. On the other side of the table, Triana regarded him curiously, and he knew he couldn’t

leave her hanging. He’d wanted her to understand there couldn’t be anything between them, hadn’t he? It was time to man up and say what needed to be said. “It didn’t work out, okay?” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “It ended badly, and since then, I haven’t been able to find anyone who could convince me to try again.” He cringed as he realized how harsh his words had been. That was nothing compared to how shitty he felt when he saw the pain in Triana’s eyes. But what else could he have said? It was the truth. He didn’t have it in him to open his heart up again, to get hurt again. Wasn’t it better for Triana to know that now, instead of waiting until later when it would be even harder for her to take? “So, there’s no…” Voice trailing off, she looked down at her half-empty plate, blinking her eyes rapidly. “No,” he said softly. “There isn’t.” Triana shook her head, then pushed back her chair and made a beeline for the door. Remy hastily tossed money on the table, running out of the restaurant to catch up to her. By the time he did, she was halfway to his car, oblivious to the rain soaking her pretty dress. He got the umbrella up and over her, but she didn’t seem to notice that either. At least he could lie and tell himself the wetness he saw on her face was the rain. As he got her in the car and walked around to the driver’s side, he thought he might actually throw up. The drive back into the city was long and painfully quiet, except for the constant thump-thump of the windshield wipers and the splash of the tires on the wet road. Remy

tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing, but damn, if that was the case, why the hell did it hurt so much to see Triana simply shut down like she had? It was like someone had turned off a light bulb, leaving everything in darkness.

Chapter 12 Triana was reeling. Remy might not have said the words, but in every way that mattered, he’d broken up with her. The fears that had been building in her heart since the night before had turned out to be true, and now it felt like something inside her was dying. She didn’t remember the drive back across the lake bridge, barely even noticed the rain drumming on the roof of Remy’s car as they headed into the city. Heck, she didn’t even realize they’d made it back to her mother’s shop until Remy came around to help her out of the car and walk her to the door. At least it wasn’t raining by then. She looked down in confusion and saw that Remy was holding her hand. If they were over, she didn’t need him walking her to the door or holding her hand. She started to pull her hand away when Remy stopped suddenly, his posture rigid and tense. “Stay here,” he said. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he was already running the last dozen feet toward the door of

the shop so fast he was practically a blur. She was going to tell him the door would be locked, but she didn’t get a chance as he jerked it open and disappeared inside. A moment later, she heard the sound of glass breaking. Triana’s heart lurched. “Mom!” Heedless of Remy’s order to stay where she was, Triana raced for the door. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but her mother was in there. She’d be damned if she was going to stand there and do nothing. She ran into the shop, absently wondering why it wasn’t locked like it usually was. The interior was illuminated only by the glow of the lone streetlamp outside and the neon in the windows, and she skidded to a halt, trying to make sense of the blurs of movement she saw in the near darkness as well as the grunts, growls, and curses she heard. The only thing she knew for sure was that Remy was in there, and he was fighting with someone. Triana took out her cell phone to call the police when the lights suddenly came on, making her vision sparkle with stars. When it cleared, the image that met her eyes was enough to almost make her want to turn off the lights again as she saw her mother coming out from behind the counter with her baseball bat at the ready and Remy facing off against the three big goons from the other day. Well, actually there were only two of them now, since the third was rolling around on the floor, groaning and cradling a cast-wrapped hand against his chest. The cast looked like it had been crushed in a trash compactor. The other two men

were still coming at Remy hard though, and this time they were armed. Triana’s heart almost stopped as she saw that one of the men held a gun, while the other held a long, wicked knife. She hadn’t realized her feet were moving in that direction until her mother yelled at her to stop. Every pair of eyes turned her way, immediately followed by the barrel of the gun. All Triana could do was stare. Why was everything moving so fast, but she was moving so slowly? There was a deep growl, then the sound of her mother screaming, followed by a blur of movement as Remy smashed into the guy with the gun so hard the man bounced off the wall behind him and the gun went skittering across the floor. But going after that guy left Remy with his back to the man with the knife, who used the opportunity to take a savage swing at him. “Remy, behind you!” Triana yelled. Remy ducked and swung around, bringing an arm up to block the knife. She watched in horror as the sharp edge of the blade sliced through his upraised forearm, slinging blood across the room. Triana expected Remy to gasp in pain and drop to the floor, but instead, he stepped back and kicked the guy in the chest hard enough to send him rolling across the floor…and straight into her. She went down in a heap of arms and legs, punching and kicking at the man, terrified he might still have the knife. Everything went crazy after that. There was shouting and

swearing; then she was being pulled to her feet by someone really strong. She almost took a swing at the person until she realized it was Remy. “Are you okay?” he asked urgently, his eyes full of terror as he gently ran his hands over her, apparently looking for injuries. Triana couldn’t answer him because all she could see and comprehend was the blood running down his arm. He must have decided she was okay, because he turned to go after the men now fleeing the shop. Like hell, Triana thought. There was no way she was going to let him go anywhere with his arm bleeding like that. Slapping one hand over the wound, she buried the other in the fabric of his Tshirt and refused to let go. Remy let out one of those growls like her father used to, then tugged at her hands. “Triana, they’re getting away!” Triana held him tight, digging in her heels and refusing to let go. “You’re bleeding!” Remy opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again as her mom came over to put her hand on his shoulder. “Let them go, Remy. We know how to find them.” He clenched his jaw but nodded. Triana sagged with relief, only to tense again when she saw blood seeping out from between the fingers she had wrapped around Remy’s forearm. “We need to call an ambulance,” she said, hearing a voice rising high in panic and realizing that it was hers. Her mother gently peeled Triana’s hand away from Remy’s T-shirt, then did the same to the one clutching his

forearm. “We don’t need an ambulance, Triana. I have a first-aid kit in the back room. I can patch him up just fine here.” Triana released his arm, swaying a little on her feet, suddenly queasy. She’d seen a lot of blood in the crime lab, but none of it had come from someone she knew, much less a man she was falling in… “Remy needs to go to a hospital, Mom. He needs stitches,” she said. Triana had taken enough first-aid courses in college to know that. Her mom shushed her and steered Remy over to the counter. “He doesn’t need a hospital or stitches. I used to fix up your dad after he’d get into fights down at the club. This is just a little scratch.” Triana stood there in disbelief as her mother disappeared into the backroom, coming out with a first-aid kit in a big green canvas bag that looked like something an army medic would use. Inside it were forceps, clamps, retractors, and even scalpels. What the heck was her mother doing with a setup like this? Triana was even more confused at the calm, confident manner her mother displayed as she pulled out the various pieces of gauze and bandages she wanted. A moment later, her mother snapped on some gloves and went to work, apparently not fazed at all by the amount of blood or the deep cut. Then again, now that Triana looked at the wound more closely, she realized it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d thought. It wasn’t even bleeding that much now.

She glanced at Remy to see that he seemed as surprised as she was by the sudden appearance of Dr. Gemma, Voodoo Medicine Woman. “Maybe I should run down to the emergency room and get this looked at anyway,” he said cautiously. “I’m sure it would make Triana more comfortable.” Her mom made a tsking sound as she wrapped the wound in a thick bandage as though she’d done it a hundred times. “You know as well as I do that you don’t need stitches, Remy. Triana is a big girl, you know. She’ll figure it out soon enough.” Triana frowned, wondering what the heck that meant, but before she could ask for an explanation, her mother announced she was done and began cleaning up. Triana moved to check the bandage, worrying there might be blood soaking through it, but Remy was already heading for the door. “I’m going to pay our lawyer friend, Kenneth Murphy, a little visit,” he said. Triana started to follow him but then forced her feet to stop. “Remy.” He hesitated at the door for a moment before turning to look at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see in his face. Maybe she was hoping there’d be some sign that what had transpired at dinner had all been some big misunderstanding. There was no such sign, merely a closed-off expression convincing her she’d been right. What had started out so hot and fiery between them had already burned out.

“Be careful,” she finally said, hoping he wouldn’t do anything to the lawyer that would get him into trouble. Remy gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded before turning away and walking out. With his departure, Triana felt another thread connecting them snap. The pain that caused hurt more than she could have ever imagined. Turning, Triana walked past the counter and up the steps to her room, ignoring the look of confusion on her mother’s face. She wasn’t in the mood to talk at the moment. Tears pooled in her eyes, running down her face as she sat down on the bed. She was never going to see Remy again and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get over him.

*** The windshield wipers on Remy’s Mustang were fighting a losing battle trying to keep up with all the rain pounding the glass as he and Max drove into the SWAT facility. Ophelia had strengthened into a Category 1 hurricane during the night, and weather experts were now predicting landfall would be around Lafayette, Louisiana, a hundred miles west of New Orleans. But the storm outside was nothing compared to the one raging inside his head. That particular tempest was definitely a Category 5 catastrophe. He hadn’t slept at all last night. Instead, he’d lain in bed staring at the ceiling with eyes that let him see every tiny detail in the darkness, wondering how things had gotten this messed up. He’d started spending time with Triana because she was a friend, she was beautiful, and he’d been attracted to her more than he’d ever been attracted to anyone in his

life—even Jess. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a week filled with fun. But somewhere along the way, he’d been dumb enough to let things go too far, and now everything was screwed up because he’d done the one thing he never intended to do— fallen in love with her. Last night had been an absolute train wreck. He couldn’t believe some of the shit he’d said to Triana. He’d wanted to make her realize there wasn’t going to be a future between them, but he’d never meant to hurt her. That was sure as hell what he’d done though. It had been bad enough during dinner when he’d as much as come right out and said he’d been in love once and never wanted to be again. He’d seen how much that had hurt her. Hell, he’d felt the pain in his own heart just like he had felt the twinge in his finger when she’d cut hers. But then later, after the break-in at her mother’s shop, he’d walked away from her even though he’d known how freaked out and scared she was. What the hell was wrong with him? Who walked away from the woman they cared about and left her to deal with all that fear and confusion completely on her own? That wasn’t who he was, dammit. At least not the kind of person he wanted to be. He’d told her he had to leave so he could go after Murphy, but that was bullshit. He’d left because it had been too hard to look at her anymore. Besides, chasing the lawyer had been a bust. The man wasn’t at the office listed on his website, and when he’d gone to the man’s home address—which he’d found after

snooping around the office for a while—it was to find signs of a hasty departure. Remy shook his head, trying to clear it, which was difficult to do with the way it was spinning. It had never been like this before. He’d walked away from plenty of women in the past, and it had never been a big deal. With Triana, it was definitely a big deal. He’d never felt this shitty in all his life. This morning had been even worse than last night. He didn’t just feel shitty; he actually felt sick. Like he was going to throw up, which he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. Werewolves didn’t get sick. He’d told himself yesterday it had been the burgers, then the seafood, but if that was the case, why was he feeling so crappy now? He hadn’t eaten anything this morning. “Remy!” Max’s voice jolted him out of his reveries and he looked over to see his pack mate regarding him in concern. That’s when Remy realized they were almost at the SWAT facility. Crap, he didn’t even remember the drive. “Dude,” Max said. “I called your name three times. You were frigging muttering to yourself like a psycho.” Remy opened his mouth to crack a joke about talking to himself being more entertaining than talking to Max when his friend leaned over to sniff him. A moment later, he sat back, making a face. “Are you okay? You’re putting off a strange scent I’ve never smelled before.” Remy scowled. “Is that your polite way of saying I didn’t

shower enough this morning?” Max shook his head. “I’m being serious. You smell…I don’t know…kind of sick or something. To tell the truth, you don’t look so hot either. You’re sweating and your face is pale. Do you feel okay?” Remy was about to blow it off, because…well…he was a guy, and that’s what guys did. But he knew it would be useless because Max was a guy too. His friend would keep poking him until Remy told him what the problem was. “Not really,” he admitted. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” “Because you were with Triana fixing things, right?” Max asked hopefully. Remy ran a hand through his hair, then quickly gripped the wheel tighter when the front tires of the car hydroplaned a little as he drove through a big patch of standing water. This wasn’t supposed to be a bad storm, but there were areas of this city that tended to flood any time there was more than a light shower. With this much rain, it was going to be ugly. “I wish that was the reason,” he said after a moment. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t anything that enjoyable.” “That doesn’t sound good,” Max muttered. “What happened?” Remy shrugged. “Triana and I went to dinner and the subject of relationships came up. Without meaning to, I kind of told her that I’d been in love once and didn’t have any inclination to do it again.” Max didn’t say anything for a moment. Based on how Max had reacted yesterday, Remy wouldn’t be surprised if

his friend punched him, regardless of the fact that he was driving. “I know we talked about this yesterday and that you felt it could never work between you guys, but dumping her right in the middle of dinner?” Max blew out a breath. “That’s pretty fucked up, even by your relatively screwed-up social rules of engagement.” Remy sighed. “I know. I cringed the moment the words were out of my mouth, but by then it was too late to do anything.” “That’s bullshit,” Max said. “Maybe you should have just nutted up and told her you’re a chickenshit who’s simply afraid to fall in love again.” Remy snorted. “Oh yeah, that probably would have worked. Unfortunately, since you weren’t around to give me advice last night, I went with my own instincts, which seem to be rather impaired when it comes to Triana.” Max groaned. “Oh hell, what else did you do?” Remy told him about the lowlifes at Gemma’s shop and how he’d dealt with them, then the strange way Triana’s mother had behaved after seeing him sliced open, and, most important, the way he’d walked out on Triana afterward. “Damn,” Max breathed. “When you want to sabotage a relationship, you really go all out.” Understatement there. “Even though I thought I was doing it for the right reasons, I still went to bed last night feeling like a complete shit.” He pulled into the parking lot of the NOPD SWAT facility when Max hit him with a question that completely caught

him off guard. “You think that’s why you’re sick this morning? Because of the way you treated Triana last night?” “I’m not sick,” Remy said firmly. “I’m just tired.” As he parked in one of the visitor spaces at the end of the first row of vehicles, Max leaned in and gave him another sniff. “Could have fooled me. You don’t smell right, dude. I think we should call Cooper.” Remy frowned. “Why the hell would we call Cooper?” “Because he always knows what to do about this kind of weird shit. Besides, you remember how screwed up Cooper felt when Everly didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Well, I think you’re going through the same thing, except worse because this time you’re the one trying to walk away from the person who’s The One for you.” Remy wanted to tell him that was just about the dumbest crap he’d ever heard, but unfortunately, he couldn’t tell Max he was wrong. None of the other members of the Pack who’d been lucky enough to find their soul mates had ever tried to resist the attraction. For all Remy knew, Max could be right. This crappy feeling in the pit of his stomach just might be his body’s way of saying he was making the dumbest mistake of his life. He remembered Max laughing at his big plans to tell the cosmic forces behind the legend of The One to fuck off. Maybe this was how the cosmos responded to dumb-ass plans like that. Not that he intended on listening to his body. He might hate the way this was all going down, but he still believed

separating himself from Triana was the best thing to do. Remy was still thinking about that as he and Max walked into the SWAT facility. They hadn’t even shaken the water off their rain jackets when Brooks and Drew met them in the hallway. “Don’t bother drying off. You’re going right back out,” Drew said. “We have reports of some of the streets in Bywater already starting to flood. I need you and Max to get over there with some of my guys to help people evacuate from the worst of the low-lying areas.” Remy and Max immediately fell into step with several of the local guys who passed them in the hallway and headed toward the back door. Going back out in the rain was fine with him. It would give him something to occupy his mind instead of thoughts of Triana. Because right then, that was definitely something he didn’t want to think about.

Chapter 13 “You want the T-shirts taken upstairs too?” Triana yelled toward the back room, where her mom was busy packing up all her herbs, powders, and potions. “Yes,” her mother called. “I want anything that can get water damage moved upstairs. That includes the T-shirts, books, dolls, and gris-gris bags.” Triana groaned softly. She’d known before asking what her mom was going to say. She eyed the two racks full of shirts, dreading the task of boxing them up and carrying them upstairs, but she understood why her mother wanted the stuff moved. Ophelia was coming in closer to New Orleans than anyone was comfortable with, and even though no one was predicting this part of the city would flood, there was always a chance they’d get water coming in under the door, which it did during bad summer thunderstorms on occasion. If that happened, they’d all be happy they put a little work into saving the shop’s merchandise. “Those T-shirts aren’t going to pack up themselves,” Kim said as she dumped a pile of empty boxes at Triana’s feet.

Triana smiled. Her friend had shown up an hour ago, saying she’d known Triana and her mom would need some help getting stuff done. That was just an excuse. In reality, Kim had stopped by because she’d known Triana needed a friend this morning. Kim hadn’t asked any questions about what had happened last night. Instead, she’d walked in and given her a big hug. Triana wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve friends like Kim, but she thanked God she had them. She and Kim spent the next hour silently loading up the merchandise and moving it upstairs. It was physically demanding and monotonous, but at least it gave Triana something to focus on, instead of all the crap that had happened last night. She’d spent the whole time trying to figure out what had gone wrong between her and Remy and had nothing to show for it. When she’d gotten out of bed that morning, she’d decided she was done wasting her energy trying to figure him out. Triana had just come downstairs for another load of books when she caught sight of a wet, bedraggled figure standing at the door, tapping softly on the glass. For one insane moment, she thought it was Remy, but the guy wasn’t anywhere near as tall or as big. Her first instinct was to tell whoever it was they were closed, but then she recognized the face under all that dripping hair and realized the morning had just taken a strange twist. “Kim, you have a visitor!” she yelled up the steps. “I think you might want to come see who it is.” Her friend came bouncing down the steps a few seconds later, a questioning looking on her face. “Who the heck

comes to visit on a day like today?” Kim stopped cold when she reached the bottom step and saw who was at the door. A dozen different emotions flitted across her face, including hope, anger, and disappointment. Pushing her blond hair back, Kim squared her shoulders and walked over to the door. Instead of unlocking and opening it, she stood there staring at her ex-boyfriend through the glass. “What are you doing here, Shawn?” The man Triana had met dozens of times remained solemn as the rain continued to drip off of him. “I was worried about you, with the storm coming and all. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Kim didn’t say anything for a long time, but finally she nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Shawn wiped water off his face. “Can we talk?” Kim slowly crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side a little. “Sure. Go ahead and talk. I’m not stopping you.” Shawn lifted a brow, which was rather impressive considering he was about to drown under all the water cascading off the side of the building. “Could I maybe talk to you inside…out of the rain?” Kim sighed, then turned and looked at Triana. “Could I have a second? This won’t take long.” Triana nodded, already starting to back up the stairs. “Sure. Mom and I will be getting stuff packed away up here. Take all the time you need.” As she headed up the steps, she ran into her mother

coming down. “Shawn showed up,” she said, stopping her. “Kim needs a little time alone with him. I figured we could do some stuff upstairs while they talk.” Her mom frowned. “We could, but then we wouldn’t be able to hear what they’re saying.” Triana gaped as her mother quietly slipped down another step before taking a seat. “Mom, you are absolutely horrible.” Her mother didn’t answer. Instead, she motioned with her hand for Triana to join her. Against her better judgment, Triana sat down beside her. Downstairs, Kim had let Shawn into the shop and he was currently apologizing, saying he’d been stupid to walk out on her. “I don’t really have an excuse beyond the obvious fact that I was scared about taking the next step with you,” he admitted. “I got comfortable with the way things were and couldn’t understand why anything had to change. Instead of listening to you, I lashed out, then bailed.” “Yeah, you did,” Kim agreed. “So what are you doing here now?” Triana heard a heavy sigh and a rustle of movement. Even though she couldn’t see downstairs, she imagined Shawn standing there raking his wet, black hair back from his face in frustration. “I went on a three-day bender after we broke up,” Shawn confessed. “I figured since we were over, I was free to do anything I wanted, but I discovered pretty fast I wasn’t

nearly as free as I thought I’d be. I’ve spent the last three weeks thinking about you almost every minute of the day, realizing that I don’t want to be free. I want to be with you.” There was silence downstairs, and Triana leaned forward a little to hear Kim’s reply. “What are you trying to say, Shawn?” Kim finally asked. “That you want us to go back to the way things used to be? That you want a do-over?” “No, I’m not saying that.” Triana’s shoulders slumped. She’d thought from everything Shawn said that he’d come to his senses, but she guessed he was still a jerk. What the heck had he come here for? Shawn sighed. “I’m not saying that because I don’t want that. I know we can’t ever go back to what we used to be, but being apart has given me a lot of time to think. Every happy memory I have from the past three years includes you, Kim. I’m pissed that it took us being apart—and a frigging hurricane in the Gulf—for me to figure that out, but I finally get it. I’m in love with you and I know that the only way I’ll ever be happy again is if we’re together. So, even though I know I don’t have any right to ask this of you, I’m asking anyway. Will you give me another chance, not just to be your boyfriend, but to be your husband?” There was another rustling noise followed by the distinct sound of a jewelry box opening. Triana turned and looked at her mother, who stared back. As one, they scooted down the steps on their butts until they could lean forward enough to see into the shop. The scene they found was exactly what

Triana had imagined. Shawn was down on one knee in a puddle of water, a black jewelry box in his outstretched hands, a beautiful ring nestled in the box’s velvet-lined interior. Kim stood in front of him, one hand over her mouth, shock and awe on her face. The two of them stayed like that for so long Triana thought she might have to run down there and kick them. But then Kim grabbed Shawn’s hands, pulling him to his feet and kissing him. Triana thought she heard a few murmured words of love and acceptance, but she was too busy nudging her mother upstairs to be sure. Kim called up from the bottom of the stairs a little while later. “I heard you two on the steps, so don’t bother acting like you have no idea what happened down here.” Triana grinned and hurried downstairs, her mom right behind her. Kim was alone in the shop, a big smile on her face and a ring on her finger. Triana and her mother both hugged her and offered congratulations. “I asked Shawn to go check on his parents and make sure everything is okay there,” Kim said. “He’s going to come back and pick me up later, so I still have time to help you two finish packing up.” Instead of moving over to pack another box, Kim pulled out her cell phone. “I need to call Zane and let him know Shawn and I are back together.” Kim didn’t try and hide her conversation as she called the British SWAT officer, so Triana listened in while her friend told Zane about Shawn. Zane must have handled it well because Kim laughed at whatever he said. After hanging up,

Kim came over to help Triana pack a box of voodoo dolls. “That guy is so amazing,” Kim said. “Zane actually said he’s happy for Shawn and me, and I believe him. I’m telling you, if I wasn’t already crazy in love with Shawn, I’d make a serious move on the man. Though something tells me it’s going to take one hell of a woman to win his heart. That guy is one of a kind.” While Triana’s mother disappeared into her workshop to finish in there, she and Kim got the rest of the more delicate merchandise moved upstairs. “Okay, so what’s the word on Remy?” Kim asked as they stood in the hallway making sure the stack of boxes was stable. Triana told her about their date at the restaurant across the lake and what had happened afterward. “I assumed Remy was going to make the dumping official once we got back to the shop, but the break-in sort of got in the way. Not that it really matters. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done.” Kim hugged her. “That sucks. Why’d he take you out to such a nice place if he was just going to break it off with you? Hell, he could have done it by a text and it would have been better.” Triana snorted. “No kidding.” She and Kim chatted about men in general and assholes in particular for a while, until Shawn came to pick Kim up. Kim hugged Triana again and told her to call if she needed to talk, then left with her new fiancé. Triana was happy the two of them had worked it out, but she couldn’t help comparing Kim and Shawn’s relationship

to her and Remy’s. She told herself it was silly to contrast the two. Kim and Shawn had been together a long time and had merely run into a rough spot. She and Remy had only gone on a couple of dates and slept together a few times. It had never been anything more than that, and if she’d let herself think that, it was her own damn fault. When her mom came down a little while later, Triana was staring out the window at the rainwater running down the street outside like a little river. Her mother walked over to put her arm around her. “I know some stuff happened last night with Remy. Do you want to talk about it?” Triana shook her head. “Not right now. Maybe later.” Her mom nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.” She pressed a kiss to Triana’s cheek. “I’m going to check on some of our neighbors and see if they need any help. You should stay close to the shop. The weather people said it shouldn’t get too bad out, but the winds will probably get worse over the next couple of hours.” Triana gave her mother a hug and told her to be careful, then locked the door behind her. She was wondering what she could do next to keep herself occupied when her cell phone rang. Her heart leaped, hoping it was Remy, but it quickly sank when she looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. She answered anyway, immediately knowing from the rough voice on the other end that it was Dominic. It kind of reminded her of a sink disposal chewing on gravel. “My timing is lousy with this storm, but I think I’ve found

the guy I heard bragging about killing your dad,” he said. “I thought you’d want to know, even with the hurricane coming.” Triana was so stunned she almost dropped the phone, but she recovered quickly enough. “How’d you find him so fast? Where is he? Do you know his name?” “Whoa, slow down, woman,” Dominic said. “I haven’t slept since we met yesterday, so one question at a time.” Triana took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “Okay, since you said you haven’t slept since yesterday, does that mean you’ve been looking for this guy the whole time?” “Yeah. I spent the entire night dragging my ass through every lowlife bar and dive in this city, and let me tell you, there are a lot of them. An hour ago, I met a guy who knew exactly who I was taking about. Said he’d heard this shithead named Shelton Quinn mouthing off about taking out this big dude who owned a jazz club and thought he was a real badass. Even described the same tattoo I’d seen.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “Quinn—that’s his name? Do you know where he can be found?” The guy laughed, a sound that quickly broke up into a fit of coughing. “I can do you one better than that, lady. Meet me on Royal Street near the old Architect Alley and I’ll point him out to you.” Her pulse raced, eagerness warring with concern. She knew the place. It was in the Marigny, which was a really nice part of town. But getting there would mean driving down a lot of streets that were probably close to flooding by

now. “You want me to meet you right now, with the hurricane coming in?” “Hell yeah, lady. How the hell else we going to do this?” Dominic demanded, clearly pissed she’d even asked. “I’m sitting here in my car right now, across the street from the warehouse I tracked this guy to. He walked in a few minutes ago, but I got no idea how long he’s going to stay here. And I sure as hell ain’t going to wait around until he comes out so I can get a picture. Besides, I found him; now I want the money you promised me.” Triana still hesitated. She wanted to catch the man who killed her father more than anything, but she was smart enough to know that going to the place where this guy might actually work probably wasn’t too smart. Bodine would have a cow if he knew she was considering something like this. “Shouldn’t we call Bodine and let him know what you found out?” she asked. “Lady, you can call anyone you want, but I’m expecting someone down here with my money in the next fifteen minutes or I’m leaving. I don’t want to be out in this weather any more than you do.” Triana was tempted to tell him she didn’t appreciate being threatened, but she resisted the urge. It would only chase Dominic away, and she sure as heck didn’t want to do that. She needed the guy. “Okay, I’ll be there as fast as I can,” she snapped. “But it’s going to take me a bit. I don’t keep five hundred dollars

lying around in my couch cushions.” Dominic laughed. “You can pay me another way, if you want.” That thought made Triana want to yak. “I don’t think so. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes with your money.” Another throaty chuckle. “I thought so, but now it’s twelve minutes. You done wasted three minutes talking instead of driving.” Triana swore and hung up. Twelve minutes didn’t give her much time to stop at an ATM. She ran upstairs for her purse, calling Bodine on the way back down. Hopefully, she could get the PI to meet her. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer. She quickly left him a message, giving him the address Dominic had provided. “I’ll call as soon I get something,” she added. Triana started to drop her phone into her purse, then hesitated. Maybe she’d call Remy too. He might not care, but still… She dialed his number before she had a chance to think better of it. It went to voice mail. She considered leaving a message but then hung up. For all she knew, he was ignoring her calls anyway, and she refused to come off as pathetic.

*** Remy and Max walked into the main briefing room of the NOPD SWAT facility, soaked to the bone and squishing water out of their boots with every step. They’d spent the whole morning working the streets of Bywater, Saint

Claude, and the Lower Ninth Ward, doing everything from shoving water-stalled vehicles off the roads to helping those living in the worst of the flood-prone areas get to higher ground. The rain was still coming down in buckets, and in a city surrounded by levees, that meant lots of flooded streets. But at least it was better than getting hit with the storm head-on. Still, it had been a long frigging morning and he was beat, which was unusual, considering werewolves rarely got tired. He couldn’t help wondering if maybe Max was right and his exhaustion had something to do with breaking up with Triana. It sounded crazy, but if that wasn’t it, what the hell was it? Remy figured he and Max would be out helping people for hours, but Brooks had called fifteen minutes ago and told them to get their butts back to the shop ASAP. He hadn’t said why, but one look at Lorenzo standing off to one side of the briefing room, clearly tense as hell, not to mention the building outline drawn up on the whiteboard with access points and entrance routes marked all over it, and Remy knew why Brooks had told them to get back here. They were going after Aaron Lee again. “Took you two long enough,” Brooks muttered, not looking up from the Google Maps image of a big building spread out on the table in front of him. “Sorry about that,” Remy said. “There’s standing water on almost every street in the city now and some of the wind gusts are strong enough to shove a vehicle off the road if you start to hydroplane.”

“Whatever,” Brooks said. “Get over here so we can bring you guys up-to-speed on the plan. Zane and the team Drew selected for the raid are almost finished loading up.” “We got the call from our informant?” Remy asked as he scanned the drawing on the whiteboard. From the size and layout of the building drawn there, it looked like another warehouse structure similar to the last one they’d raided. Drew nodded. “A text actually. Our informant said Lee’s people are in a warehouse on Royal Street where one of the Mardi Gras krewes stores their floats. They probably figure it will be safer to use a location that has no connection to Lee. It’s going to take them a while to break down hundreds of pounds of meth, so we’ve got time to do this right.” “Are we still keeping everyone else in the dark about this?” Remy asked. Lorenzo nodded glumly. “Yeah. I haven’t told any of my people at major case or the DA’s office. That means we’re going in with no backup and no warrant. The warrant thing isn’t a problem because our informant gives us plenty of probable cause, but this had better work out right, or Lee won’t have to work very hard to get Drew and me fired. The NOPD will gladly do it for him.” That was a sobering thought. “What’s the plan this time?” He and Max listened as Brooks and Drew outlined the plan. It was relatively basic. They’d go in through all three entrances at the same time, hopefully catching whomever was inside completely by surprise. As the two senior SWAT officers briefed them, Remy felt a shiver run down his back, making goose bumps break out

along his arms. He saw Max look at him out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. How could he explain he just felt freaky all of a sudden? “The only thing that will make this job complicated are all the parade floats in there,” Drew added. “If these guys see us coming, we could end up having to chase them around in that big warehouse like rats in a maze.” Something like that wouldn’t have concerned Remy if it had just been Pack werewolves on this operation, but with the guys from Drew’s team involved, they had to worry about things getting out of hand quickly. The NOPD SWAT cops were good, but all it took was one lucky shot and one of the officers they’d been training with all week could end up dead. As Remy followed Brooks and the others out of the briefing room, his legs suddenly gave out from under him as a wave of near-total panic swept through his gut, making him feel both weak and queasy. A second later, he felt a stab of pain lance through the back of his head, and he reached out to catch the doorjamb. The sensation was similar to something you’d feel if you were terrified, but that didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t been scared of anything since he’d turned into a werewolf. Max grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. “What the hell, Remy? You okay?” Remy nodded. “Fine.” Shaking off Max’s hand, he strode out of the room, into the hallway. His friend fell into step beside him, concern in his blue eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t go on this mission.”

“I’m good,” Remy said, still trying to get a sense of where the sudden overwhelming sensations had come from, and more important, why he didn’t feel them now. “I’m tired because I didn’t sleep last night and I’ve been humping through cold water all day.” It didn’t seem as if Max bought that any more than Remy did. His friend continued to regard him worriedly as they left the building and headed to the motor pool. “Do you think this has something to do with breaking up with Triana?” Max asked. Remy didn’t even try to answer that one. Scowling, he climbed into the back of one the NOPD SWAT operations vehicles while Drew and Brooks headed for another. Max closed the door behind them. Zane held out their tactical gear, and Remy focused on getting the stuff on as the truck drove out of the enclosure, wishing like hell he had a dry uniform. What if Max was right? What if his decision to walk away from Triana was causing all this weird shit to happen to him? “Did Brooks tell you that Cooper and Alex are on their way?” Zane asked, holding on to one of the truck’s equipment racks as the vehicle turned right at an intersection. Remy was feeling a little out of it, so he wasn’t sure he’d heard that quite right. “No. Why are they coming here?” Zane shrugged. “The NOPD SWAT guys who were in Dallas for training are coming back early because of the storm, so Gage sent Cooper and Alex with them in case the city needs some extra first responders.”

Remy nodded. Even if the storm didn’t get any worse, that was probably a good idea. Maybe they could give him some advice while they were here. While both men had found their soul mates recently, neither of their relationships had been smooth sailing. If anyone knew whether this crap he was going through had something to do with him breaking up with Triana, it would be Landry Cooper and Alex Trevino.

Chapter 14 Triana sat in Dominic’s beat-up old Chevy Nova, staring through the rain-covered windshield at the big, white warehouse a couple of blocks down the street, wondering what the heck she was supposed to be looking at. “How do I know there’s anyone even in there, much less the man who killed my father?” she finally asked. “No one has come in or out the whole time I’ve been here.” “You’ve only been here a few minutes,” Dominic said from beside her, his sleepy eyes locked on the front door of the Mardi Gras krewe warehouse. “It looks like you’re just going to have to take my word for it unless you plan on getting out of this car and peeking in a window for yourself.” As terrifying as that idea seemed, it was starting to look better and better with every passing second. She’d already been in Dominic’s Nova far longer than she wanted, certainly more than a few minutes. The interior of the ancient car smelled like booze, cigarettes, oil, and a few things Triana didn’t want to imagine. She was also getting

the distinct feeling Dominic was starting to think there was going to be something more to this arrangement than the payment of five hundred dollars for services rendered. He’d already asked twice if she’d like to go out for a drink—in the middle of a hurricane. “Did you at least get a better look at the guy?” she asked. He’d given her a rather generic description the other day when they’d met at the bar, so she hoped he could tell her more now. Dominic regarded her suspiciously, probably afraid she was going to run off and find the guy without paying him the five hundred dollars. “He’s a big guy—six three, maybe 280 pounds. He looks like a frigging defensive end for the Saints.” Dominic scrunched up his face as if trying to remember what the man had looked like. “He had a shaved head and a tattoo of a snake or lizard running up the side of his neck all the way to his ear. I think I already told you about the tattoo of an anchor on his right arm. Didn’t I?” Triana nodded. Okay, it didn’t sound like she was going to miss this guy. Before she could think about whether what she was going to do was a good idea or not, she reached for the door handle. A part of her wished Remy were there. It was hard not remembering how safe she’d felt with him. Of course, if he were there, she probably wouldn’t be doing anything this crazy. But Remy wasn’t with her right then. If anyone was going to catch the man who murdered her father, it would start

with her, and she wasn’t going to learn anything sitting in that car. She’d just snoop around and look for a window, take a quick peek then bail. She’d be able to give a good description to Bodine; then he would be able to take it from there. She hoped. She only prayed she wasn’t taking a crazy risk like this for no reason. “Whoa, what are you doing?” Dominic squawked in his raspy voice, reaching out to grab her arm as she cracked the door and got hit with a gust of wind-driven rain. “Are you crazy? If I’m right, and I am, that guy in there is a stone-cold killer. Which means the people he’s hanging out with are probably just as whacked. Why don’t you just stay in the dry car and wait?” Triana stepped out into the rain and looked back at Dominic, stunned to see genuine concern in his eyes. “I’m just going to take a quick peek. I’ll be right back.” “What about my money?” Dominic asked urgently, and Triana had to wonder if perhaps that was where the man’s sudden concern started and stopped. “If you get killed, I’m out five hundred dollars.” Triana reached into her purse, leaning into the car a bit so her bag wouldn’t get filled with water, and dug out her wallet. She counted out $250 and gave it to Dominic. “Here’s half. I’ll give you the other half once I’ve seen Quinn.” Dominic opened his mouth to complain, but Triana closed the car door. Turning, she darted across the street and huddled close to the building, hoping the overhang would shelter her from the worst of the rain. She would have used

her umbrella, but it was currently on its way to the French Quarter after getting ripped out of her hands by the wind when she’d first gotten out of her car and into Dominic’s. Not that an umbrella helped much in this weather. The rain was coming sideways more than down. When she reached the big white building Dominic had pointed out, she slowed, wondering how she should do what she needed to. She supposed she could always walk in the front door, pretend she was simply trying to get out of the weather. The problem with that approach was that Quinn might recognize her. If he’d known her father, that was certainly a possibility. That meant trying to peek through the glass in the door was a bad idea too. So instead, she turned down the alley that ran along the side of the big warehouse. While there were windows, they were all positioned too high for Triana to see into. Ignoring her wet jeans and sodden sneakers, she continued along the building, stopping momentarily at the metal door sheltered under the cover of an aluminum awning. She put her ear to the door to see if she could hear anyone inside, but the rain and wind whipping against the aluminum walls and awning made that impossible. Holding her breath, she slowly turned the knob, doubtful that it would be open but figuring she should check anyway. As expected, the knob didn’t budge. She slipped out from under the awning, gasping as water ran off the building and poured down the back of her neck and under her raincoat. Damn, that was cold. She yanked the collar tighter, but it did no good. Frigid water slipped

everywhere, making her shiver like crazy. The back of the building wasn’t as well-maintained as the side, with two overflowing Dumpsters, a handful of pallets leaning haphazardly against the back wall, and a bunch of trash-filled and rain-soaked cardboard boxes piled everywhere. Some of the boxes shook and skated around in the wind, and Triana imagined that all of them, and maybe the pallets too, would have blown away if they weren’t on the wind-sheltered side of the building. She eyed the back door and the wooden pallets leaning against the wall under the windows, wondering which one was the better option. Like the side door, she doubted this one would open either but decided to check it out before attempting to climb the pallets up to the windows. She wasn’t the most graceful and athletic person at the best of times. In this wind, she might be taking her life in her own hands. She was so surprised when the knob turned and the door opened that she almost fell on her face. Catching herself, she poked her head inside, praying she wouldn’t find a bunch of scary people staring back at her. When she caught sight of human-sized silhouettes standing there in the darkness, she almost let out an involuntary shriek. But then she remembered she was breaking into a Mardi Gras warehouse and got a grip on herself. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the darkened interior of the warehouse. Relieved no one seemed to be in that part of the warehouse, she slipped inside. She closed the door behind her, careful not to make any noise.

Not that anyone was going to hear her. The noise of the rain hitting the metal roof of the warehouse made her wonder if this was what the inside of a kettledrum sounded like. Triana moved forward cautiously, her heart beating a hundred miles an hour as the gravity of what she was doing started to settle in. She was in a warehouse in the middle of a hurricane with the man who’d most likely murdered her father. She wasn’t a cop, she had no weapon, and the only person who really knew where she was at that moment was a career bar rat who’d probably already left with her money. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. That thought didn’t keep her feet from moving her forward through the darkness, weaving past the Mardi Gras floats with their scary monsters, comic book heroes, and smiling mermaids. She’d been to a lot of parades in this city and had seen thousands of floats, but being in this dark warehouse with them was just about the freakiest place she’d ever been. She was staring at one of the big demon characters, sure it was following her with its eyes, when she heard a loud voice up ahead. She froze, terrified someone had seen her. But then a second voice reverberated through the metal warehouse, and she realized it was two men arguing. She followed the sounds of their voices, trying to hear over the drumming of the rain. The argument was getting more heated. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like one of the men was saying that the other had sold them out. Triana was so intent on hearing what the men were saying that she came around one of the floats and almost walked

into the two of them. She pulled back just in time, hiding behind the corner of the float as she stared wide-eyed at the two men yelling at each other. Without a doubt, one of the men was the guy Dominic had described. There couldn’t be that many shaved-head monsters in this city. He was huge and scary-looking as hell. He looked like the kind of man who twisted the heads off of dolls just to hear little girls cry. She could easily believe he was a murderer. The other guy was African American, smaller, with closecropped hair and a couple of gold rings in one of his ears. He was just as tough-looking as Quinn, and his face was filled with rage as he stood toe to toe with the larger man. “Don’t try to fucking lie to me, Roth,” Quinn said. “You should have realized we were onto you when we came here to break down the meth instead of the place we talked about last night. That’s because we’ve known about you since yesterday.” Roth looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” “You didn’t think we’d notice there were only three people—Lee, you, and me—who knew which ship the drugs were coming in on and which warehouse we’d be storing them in afterward? Since Mr. Lee obviously didn’t rat us out, that leaves you.” “Screw you, you fucking steroid freak!” Roth shouted. “Maybe you called the cops on us. Everyone knows you’ve been jonesing to take over Lee’s territory. After running around behind him for years saying Mr. Lee this and Mr. Lee

that, maybe you finally grew a big enough pair of balls to try and take him out.” Quinn went completely still, and Triana decided it was time to get out of there, before they started fighting. She had what she’d come for, confirmation of what this guy looked like. She had no idea what they were talking about or who Mr. Lee was, and she didn’t care. But before she could move, Quinn whipped a gun out from behind his back and shot the other guy in the chest at point-blank range. The noise was loud in the warehouse, but instead of echoing like she’d thought it would, the rain beating down on the metal roof seemed to immediately swallow it up. Triana stood there in stunned disbelief as the smaller man slowly slumped to the floor, blood staining the front of his shirt. The sound of footsteps coming toward Triana abruptly reminded her that she needed to get the hell out of there. She turned to run but didn’t get more than ten feet before Quinn grabbed her hair and yanked her backward. The pain was so intense, she couldn’t help but scream. But like the gunshot, the sound was quickly drowned out by the rain pounding on the roof. She struggled, but Quinn ignored her movements and spun her around. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he sneered. “I have no idea what the hell you’re doing here, but you saved me an assload of work. Mr. Lee called earlier and told me to find you. Now I guess I don’t have to.”

Triana had no idea why Mr. Lee wanted this walking pile of muscles to find her, but something told her it couldn’t be good. Panic raced through her chest, threatening to make her heart explode. In a panic, she took a swing at Quinn, aiming for his temple like Remy had showed her, but her fist bounced off his skull like she’d just punched a brick wall. Quinn laughed, then casually reached out and cuffed her alongside the head so hard her whole body went limp and her vision began to go dark. Before she could fall to the floor though, Quinn grabbed her arm. “Do you think anyone heard that gunshot?” a man’s worried voice asked from somewhere behind Quinn. “Should we pack up and move the drugs?” Quinn glanced over his shoulder at the man. “No one heard the shot in this storm. And no, don’t pack up the drugs.” “What about Roth?” the man asked. “That piece of shit didn’t have a chance to get a call off to the cops. I kept an eye on him to make sure of it,” Quinn said. “Finish breaking down the ice, then get it to our distributors. Mr. Lee wants the stuff on the streets by the time the weather clears so everyone will have plenty of okie coke for their post-Ophelia parties.” As Triana stared down at Roth’s body, she thought she saw the guy move…maybe. But she couldn’t be sure because Quinn tightened his grip on her arm and shoved her toward the back of the warehouse. “Time to get you to Mr. Lee’s,” Quinn said. Terrified at the idea of going anywhere with Quinn, Triana

did the only thing she could think of—she turned and punched him in the sensitive spot right below his sternum. She couldn’t remember what Remy had called it at that moment, but she remembered him saying it could give her a chance to run. Her fist connected solidly, sinking into Quinn’s stomach so hard he gasped. His grip on her arm loosened and she jerked away from him, running for the back door. She prayed Dominic was still out there. Triana made it halfway there before Quinn grabbed her by the hair again and yanked her back. She ignored the pain in her scalp, kicking and punching with all her might, aiming for his balls and anything else she could reach. Quinn laughed. “You’re almost as tough as that muleheaded father of yours. Before the son of a bitch bought it, anyway.” Hearing this piece of crap talk about her father—whom he’d murdered—made her fight harder, and she reached out and raked her fingernails down the man’s face. “Bitch!” he cursed. Swinging her in a big circle, Quinn slammed her headfirst into the closest available object—that damn spooky red demon she’d seen on her way in. The figure might have been made out of Styrofoam and papier-mâché, but it was still hard as hell. Stars burst across her vision as she felt herself go limp in Quinn’s grip. Oh God, she was passing out. She wouldn’t be able to protect herself if she was unconscious. Don’t pass out… don’t do it.

Her head didn’t seem to care about that, and Triana felt her legs turn to rubber as everything went black.

*** “The back door is already open,” Zane said over the radio headset, his voice barely audible above the rain and wind. “Standing by to enter.” “Understood.” Drew’s voice was calm in Remy’s earpiece. “Team two, status?” Remy watched as Brooks wedged a thin crowbar in the doorjamb at the side board, waiting until his teammate nodded at him and the NOPD SWAT officers with them. They needed a crowbar for this breaching job since the heavy metal door was designed to open out. Any attempt to kick or blow the door inward would have likely failed. “Team two at the side door,” Remy said into his mic. “Ready to enter at your word.” The drive to this part of town hadn’t been as long as they’d feared in the rain, and setting up on the warehouse had been fairly easy too. Nothing like a torrential downpour to keep gawkers at a minimum. In fact, they hadn’t seen anyone the entire time they’d moved into position around the building. Zane, Max, and three NOPD SWAT team members would take the back door while Remy, Brooks, and two locals would take the side. Drew and Lorenzo would lead the largest contingent of six SWAT officers in through the main door up front. Drew was worried the warehouse was already empty, but

Remy knew better. Even through the rain and wind, he could hear movement in the big warehouse. He’d tried to get close to the door to see if he could get a whiff of crystal meth in there, but the rainfall had wiped away any trace scents in the area. Hell, between the rain and wind, he could barely smell Brooks, and the other werewolf was standing no more than five feet away. “We go in three,” Drew’s voice sounded in Remy’s earpiece. “Two…one…go!” Brooks wrenched savagely on the crowbar, wedging the jamb back and popping the lock. At the same time, one of the NOPD SWAT officers grabbed the door and hauled it open. Remy and the other SWAT officers with him swarmed into the warehouse, moving toward the front of the place, where his nose told him the drugs and people were located. Brooks and the rest of the officers swept around him, fanning out through the float-filled warehouse. Hearing shouts from the front of the place telling him that’s where all of Lee’s people were, Remy immediately headed that way. But before he could take more than a couple of steps, two unexpected and powerful scents hit his nose and brought him to a complete standstill. One was blood; the other was Triana. Remy knew he should keep moving toward the front of the warehouse with Brooks, but he couldn’t. Instead, he followed his nose toward the back of the building, even as the other officers he’d entered with disappeared among the insane-looking floats. His heart thumped at a hundred miles an hour as he tried to understand how he could possibly

smell Triana in there. It wasn’t trace residue, as if she’d been there a while ago, either. It was recent. He didn’t think the blood was hers, but the two scents were so closely intertwined, he couldn’t know for sure. Zane was kneeling on one side of a wounded man, calling for an ambulance, while Max was on the other side, slapping a field dressing over a bloody chest wound and applying pressure. Remy immediately recognized him as one of Lee’s lieutenants, Roth. He’d been shot in the right side of the chest, and while the man’s heart was still beating, it was getting weak. From the amount of blood that had been lost, Remy was surprised the guy was even still alive. Clearly, Roth was one tough son of a bitch. Remy left Zane and Max to their tasks while he tried to figure out what had happened here and where Triana’s scent was coming from. It was more concentrated on one of the floats, more precisely the one with the freaky-looking red demon on it, but she was nowhere to be found. There was at least one other scent he recognized as well, but his olfactory memory wasn’t good enough to pinpoint exactly to whom it belonged. There were a couple of werewolves in the Pack who could ID any scent they’d smelled before, but he simply wasn’t that talented. Max must have picked up on his anxiety when Remy walked past him for the third time. “What’s wrong?” “Triana was here,” Remy said. “Recently. Like, ten or fifteen minutes ago.” Zane and Max tested the air with their noses, then shrugged.

“I definitely smell a woman’s scent, but I can’t tell if it’s Triana,” Max said. “Since you know her a whole hell of a lot better than we do, I’ll assume you’re right. But why would she be here? More important, where is she now?” Remy didn’t get a chance to answer because Lorenzo chose that moment to come in. The narcotics detective’s eyes widened. “Shit!” Lorenzo dropped to his knees beside Roth and checked his pulse. “Dammit, Chad. I warned you not to take any chances, but you just had to keep pushing it, didn’t you?” “This is the informant?” Zane asked in surprise. “One of Lee’s lieutenants? How the hell did you make that happen?” “Chad’s a cop,” Lorenzo said. “He’s been undercover in the New Orleans crime scene for the better part of six years. He was able to develop a reputation that gave him the chance to slip into Lee’s organization about three years ago. It was risky as shit, but he knew this would be our best chance to put Aaron Lee away.” Remy suddenly realized why he’d gotten such a closed-off vibe from the guy when he’d seen him a couple of days ago. Chad had been living undercover for six years. The only way cops survived that long in the criminal underworld was by closing themselves off. “The ambulance is on the way,” Max said, crouching beside Lorenzo. “It’s bad, but he just has to hang on until the EMTs get here.” Lorenzo nodded but didn’t look hopeful. “In this weather? That could take a while.”

Max and Zane nodded, but Remy couldn’t listen anymore. Triana’s scent was driving him insane, but not nearly as much as not knowing what the hell had happened to her. Why had she been here? Where was she now? Who had her? Was she in danger? The stress of not knowing the answers to those questions, and about a thousand other ones, was enough to make his fangs and claws start to come out. Not knowing what else to do, he yanked out his cell phone to call her and saw that she’d called him forty minutes ago but hadn’t left a message. Growling in frustration, he dialed her number. “What the hell, Remy?” Lorenzo demanded, frowning up at him. Remy didn’t answer. Calling your girlfriend—exgirlfriend—in the middle of a raid wasn’t exactly standard protocol. “Don’t ask how he knows,” Max said, “but someone very important to him was in this warehouse right before we got here.” Lorenzo asked Max how he could possibly know that, but Remy tuned them out. He couldn’t deal with that right then. Not surprisingly, Triana didn’t pick up. Instead, it went to voice mail. He considered leaving a message, but his gut told him it would be a waste of time. “She’s not answering,” he growled, shoving his phone away as his stomach did flips and barrel rolls. “Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut. Triana was right here at the same time your guy was getting shot.” Remy had no idea how he knew it was true, but he did.

That was the only thing that mattered. “I need to know what the hell happened in this warehouse,” he said, turning toward the front of the building. Lorenzo got up to follow. “Good luck with that. Those guys we arrested are all professional criminals. They’re going to lawyer up and not say a word to anyone.” Remy growled as he headed in that direction. “Who said I was going to give them an option?” Zane stayed with the injured undercover cop, while Lorenzo and Max hurried to catch up with Remy. He passed between the last of the Mardi Gras floats and found himself in a large open area at the front of the warehouse. Long folding tables had been set up along either side, with a third row running right down the center. From all the tools, paints, stacks of Styrofoam, and craft paper scattered around, this was probably the place new floats were made and old ones repaired. But now all the art supplies had been shoved to the side and the tables cleared. In their place were scales, boxes of plastic baggies, and lots of crystal meth. The crap looked like big shards of rock candy, so clear you could see through it. But Remy ignored all of that and instead turned his attention to the ten men lined up near the partial wall that divided this area from the entryway and front door. They were all cuffed and seemed to be waiting patiently for someone to come and take them in for booking. Lorenzo got around in front of him and put a hand on his chest in an attempt to slow him down. “Remy, you need to

stop.” “Get out of my way, Lorenzo,” Remy said in a low voice. He was damn close to losing control, and he didn’t need some by-the-book detective telling him to back off. He’d done everything he could to push Triana away, even though it had pained her and him, so she wouldn’t get hurt. After all that, it looked like it had been a waste. Somehow, she’d gotten wrapped up with a bunch of scary people anyway. He had no idea what was going on, but she was in danger. He knew that deep down in his soul. He’d do whatever it took to find her and make sure she was safe—even if that meant going through the middle of a NOPD narcotics detective. He shoved Lorenzo’s hand away and moved to step around the man, but the idiot got in front of him again. “Damn it, Remy,” Lorenzo said. “One of my very best friends put himself undercover for six years to get Aaron Lee and now it looks like it might cost him his life. I’m not going to let you waste his sacrifice. All the people we arrested work for Lee, and by catching them with all these drugs, we finally have something to pin on him. This is going to get us warrants for his home and every business he’s associated with. We finally have this guy by the balls and I’m not going to let you do something stupid that will get this arrest thrown out of court.” Remy locked eyes with the narcotics detective, his fingertips and gums tingling as his shift came on. Gage would be pissed as hell, but Remy didn’t care. He was going to get his questions answered one way or another. “I need to find out what the hell Triana was doing in this

warehouse and where she is now, and one of these men is going to tell me,” he said softly, not bothering to keep the rumbling growl out of his voice. “So unless you plan on shooting me, you need to move.” The detective’s face went blank as he took a step back, but then he slowly reached across his body to grab the pistol holstered under his left armpit. Several of the NOPD SWAT officers who’d been standing there watching the exchange tensed, hands near their weapons. This was about to get ugly. Remy flexed his fingers. Guess he was going to have to do this the hard way. He could take them all down before they put more than three or four bullets in him. “Remy, you might want to wait a minute before you do anything stupid,” Brooks’s deep voice interrupted from the entryway. “At least until you talk to these guys outside. I think they can answer most of your questions without anyone getting shot.” Remy opened his mouth to ask his pack mate what he meant by that, but Brooks had already turned and headed for the door. He gave Lorenzo a quick look, then walked out without another word. The narcotics detective didn’t follow. Remy found Brooks and Drew standing outside the warehouse with two other guys. The rain had slowed to a slow drizzle at that point, but both men were already soaked. “This is Marcus Bodine, a local PI,” Drew said, motioning at one of the men. “And this is Dominic, one of

his informants. They got here right after we went through the door.” He turned his attention to the two men. “Tell Remy what you told us.” Remy stood there stunned as the PI told him he was working for Triana, helping her find her father’s murderer. The private investigator talked like a cop, giving a short, concise rundown of the facts, including how Dominic had heard someone bragging about killing a person in a manner consistent with the evidence in her father’s case file. Somewhere in the middle of Bodine’s story, the ambulance showed up and the PI paused as the EMTs ran past them with a gurney and their gear. “Triana insisted on talking to this witness directly,” Bodine said after the EMTs disappeared inside. “When I set it up, I never dreamed she’d be stupid enough to try to track down her father’s killer herself.” Dominic took over the story then, explaining how he found the man he’d heard bragging in a bar and had followed him here. “I called her so she could get a look at the guy, Shelton Quinn, as soon as he came out of the building, but she got impatient and decided to go take a look.” Remy’s gut clenched at the mention of Quinn. Shit, that was the other scent he’d recognized in the warehouse near Triana’s. The first time he’d seen the big, muscular bruiser who worked for Lee, his werewolf instincts had told him the guy was no good. “What happened then?” Remy asked. Dominic swallowed. “I started worrying about her after a

couple of minutes, so I got out of my car to see where she was. When I got to the back door, I figured I’d go in and try to talk her into coming out, when I heard a gunshot.” The guy’s hands were shaking as he spoke, and Remy realized that going after Triana was probably the only heroic thing the man had done in his life, and it had terrified him. “I froze for a second,” Dominic said. “The next thing I know, Quinn was coming out the back door with Triana tossed over his shoulder like a bag of wheat. I wanted to do something, but I ain’t no hero—not against a guy that big. So I hid and watched as he tossed Triana in a blue BMW and spun out of here. Then I called Marcus.” “When I got here and saw the commotion and all the cops, I grabbed the first person I found and told him everything,” Bodine said, gesturing at Drew. Remy could hardly breathe. “Was she still alive when you saw her?” Dominic scrunched up his face, like he was thinking hard. “I think so. He was handling her like she was. I mean, he didn’t throw her in the trunk. And I didn’t see any blood on her.” Remy wasn’t too certain how much faith he had in Dominic, but he breathed a sigh of relief anyway. “None of this makes sense,” Brooks said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Remy, but assuming Quinn figured out Triana knew that he’d killed her father, why the hell would he go to the trouble of taking her with him? If he shot Roth and left him for dead, why not do the same to her?” Remy didn’t have an answer to that question. The fact that

Quinn had taken Triana instead of killing her outright both gave him hope and scared the shit out of him at the same time. He didn’t even want to think about her being in that psycho’s hands.

Chapter 15 Triana came to with a throbbing headache and the strange sensation of someone tugging at her wet clothes. Her head hurt like hell and she was so out of it that it took a moment to force her eyes open. When she finally did, she saw Quinn’s scratched and ugly mug a few inches from her face like he was going to kiss her. Then she realized he was tugging at her shirt, trying to undress her. She screamed and tried to shove him away only to discover she was sitting in a chair with her hands tied together in front of her and a rope around her waist holding her down. “Get the hell away from me!” she yelled, twisting her upper body to get his hands off her shirt while clubbing at him with her tied-up hands at the same time. Quinn laughed and backed away. “Relax. Damn, I was only loosening your wet clothes so you can breathe better. Figured I should make sure you’re comfortable since you might be here a while.” That’s when everything came rushing back—her stupid plan to slip into the Mardi Gras warehouse to get a look at

the man who’d killed her father, Quinn shooting that other guy and roughing her up, then telling her he was bringing her to Mr. Lee. “What do you want with me?” she asked in a terrified rush, hating to look scared in front of Quinn but too desperate for information to keep quiet. “Why did you bring me here?” Quinn regarded her in silence, his expression so damn creepy it made her skin want to crawl off and go hide. Finally, he walked over and casually sat down in a chair that matched the one she was trussed up in and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. Triana looked around and realized she was in a study with books all around, a wall of fancy windows to one side and a set of heavy double doors to the other. “Maybe I wanted to spend a little quality time with you, since you obviously went to so much work to find me and all,” Quinn said. “That’s why you were at that warehouse, right? Because you figured out I was involved in your father’s murder?” At the mention of her father, Triana was nearly overwhelmed with a wild urge to charge out of the chair and attack the monster in front of her. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she was currently tied down to the aforementioned chair. Well, that and the knowledge Quinn could swat her down like a fly anytime he wanted. So she swallowed her anger and fear, and realized that while he hadn’t actually answered her question about why he’d brought her there, he had let one thing slip.

He said that he’d been involved in her father’s murder, not that he’d killed him. If he was as much of a braggart as Dominic had said, wouldn’t he take credit for it, especially since he had her right in front of him? “How’d you find me?” Quinn prompted when she didn’t say anything. “Did someone help you?” Triana knew he was fishing to see if there was anyone who might know she’d been kidnapped, and for a moment she didn’t know how to answer. If she admitted there was a private investigator involved, would he kill her now and get rid of her body quickly? Or would he hesitate, afraid her disappearance would be traced back to him? She had to say something though, or he’d simply kill her to be on the safe side. So she went with what she hoped was the least threatening answer and prayed Dominic had stayed around the warehouse long enough to see Quinn grab her, then called the cops. Part of her even hoped Remy and his SWAT teammates might be on the way to her at that moment. It was an insane thought, but she was scared and needed to grab hold of something to give her hope. “I found you on my own,” Triana said. “I spent months looking and finally talked to someone in a bar who said they remembered hearing a man brag about killing my father. They described you, so you were easy to find after that.” Quinn laughed, and she thought she saw relief on his face. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of easy to spot. Still, it’s impressive you tracked me down. You really are like your father. He was too damn stubborn for his own good too.” The way Quinn looked at her as he spoke made her insides

turn to mush. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, steeling herself for the answer. He shrugged. “Probably at some point, but Mr. Lee has something he needs out of you first, so it’s really up to him.” It was hard to sit there and not flinch at the casual way Quinn dismissed her death as a foregone conclusion. But she forced herself to focus on something else, anything other than what this man was planning to do to her. “Who is this Mr. Lee and what does he want from me?” “My boss wants that damn wolf necklace your father used to wear,” Quinn said. “He tried to use a middle man to buy it from your mother, some stupid-ass lawyer named Murphy, but she wouldn’t sell it.” Triana blinked. Quinn’s boss was the rich client who’d hired that lawyer to harass her mother? All because of some necklace? That didn’t make any sense. “Murphy must have thought there was going to be some big payout if he got Mr. Lee the necklace because he sent some local muscle to your mother’s shop to steal it last night. That didn’t work either, so I picked the guy up at his house and drove him out to the river, where I put a bullet in his head.” Quinn’s lips curled. “As they say in baseball, three strikes and you’re out.” Triana gasped. This psycho had killed Kenneth Murphy because he’d failed to get a necklace? He really was insane. “Mr. Lee decided he was done playing around and told me to go pick you up,” Quinn continued. “He figures your

mother will trade the necklace for you. Between you and me though, after she shows up with it, I doubt either one of you will be leaving.” Triana refused to think about this man hurting her mom, knowing it would just make her fall apart. Instead she scoured her memories, trying to figure out if she’d ever heard of Lee before, but the name wasn’t familiar. “Why would Mr. Lee want my father’s necklace?” she asked. Quinn gave her a funny look, then shook his head. “Shit, you don’t even know, do you? You have no idea what your dad really was?” When Triana regarded him in confusion, he continued. “Mr. Lee is a powerful man who’s getting a little long in the tooth. People are starting to nip at the edges of his empire because they don’t believe he’s strong enough to defend it himself anymore, and that pisses him off. He wants the necklace so he can turn into a werewolf.” Triana stared, not sure she’d heard right, but then she saw the serious look on his face and realized he actually believed what he was saying. “You’re insane, you know that, right?” she said. “There’s no such thing as werewolves.” Quinn shrugged. “I used to think that too, until I saw your dad in action.” He stood and paced in front of her. “I got so damn tired of hearing all those old stories about your father and what a badass he was, about him being strong and fearless. I knew most of the stories were bullshit. Like the one about him getting stabbed and yanking the knife out of his own stomach, or the one Mr. Lee used to tell about your

father taking a bullet right in the chest for him, then chasing after the shooter for a mile until he caught him.” Quinn stopped to look at her. “To me he was just another old man who ran a jazz club.” None of the stuff Quinn was saying made any sense. It sounded like the babbling of a crazy person. But one thing was obvious. “You knew my father before you helped kill him?” “Mostly by reputation,” Quinn admitted. “He used to work for Mr. Lee too, before he decided to get married and start a family. I have to admit, he must have been one tough son of a bitch back in the day because he helped Mr. Lee build his criminal empire.” He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Mr. Lee let him be for a long time—some kind of respect shit, I guess. Then the boss decided he wanted to sell drugs out of your father’s club. But old Rufus said no, which put Mr. Lee in a difficult situation. He couldn’t have people thinking he was losing control or getting too weak to deal with some club owner. So, my crew and I went down to your father’s place late one night, planning to break some bones and teach him a lesson.” Quinn began pacing again, leaving Triana to track his movements. “It didn’t quite work out the way we expected,” he said quietly, as if remembering that night. “Your father frigging changed in front of us. I’m not shitting you. I’m talking fangs, claws, glowing eyes, the whole nine yards. He turned into a fucking monster. I’ve never seen anything so impossible in my life.” Quinn shrugged. “I was one of the

lucky ones. I got tossed through a window and halfway across the street outside. I only cracked a few bones and sliced up some skin. My boys didn’t manage so well. Your father tore them apart—literally. And Mr. Lee had a front row seat to the whole thing. Hell, he should probably be dead right now, but your father must have had a soft spot for him. Told him to drag his ass out of there and never come back.” Triana had already assumed Quinn was insane. But now, she didn’t even have a word to describe how incredibly bonkers he truly was. “That was the last mistake your father ever made,” a man’s voice interrupted from the doorway. Triana turned her head to see a big man in his midfifties standing there with a hard expression on his face. “You don’t piss on an enemy and let them walk away,” the man said as he stepped into the room and walked over to stand in front of her. “The funny thing about it is that it was your father who taught me that lesson.” Lee studied her thoughtfully. “You look exactly like your mother when she was younger. You definitely have your father’s eyes, though. And apparently his stubborn nature.” Triana didn’t say anything. “I thought it would be difficult to find the right kind of people to do the job I needed,” Lee said. “But they aren’t that tough to find if you’re willing to spend the money. You just have to look for people who know how to take down someone who’s hard to get rid of. If you want to kill a particular animal, you merely have to find the right hunter.”

That’s when Triana realized she was in even more trouble than she’d thought. Quinn might be a deranged murderer, but Lee was even worse. The man seemed as cold and dead inside as a vampire. Suddenly, she hoped with everything in her that Remy and his teammates didn’t come looking for her. She didn’t want these people getting their hands on Remy or anyone else she cared about.

*** Remy stood just inside the front door of the warehouse, staring out at the rain coming down again. Another band of the storm was moving through, bringing even more rain and wind than the previous ones. The weather report said it would be like this most of the night, as the eastern edges of the storm slowly passed over the city, though at some point the intermittent crap would be replaced with a nonstop downpour. Lee’s minions had been hauled away nearly thirty minutes ago, while the techie types had left just a short time ago with all their evidence, including the hundreds of pounds of crystal meth. Remy was glad to get all that crap finally under lock and key. If nothing else, keeping it off the streets represented a couple hundred people who wouldn’t end up in the hospital or the morgue. Remy rubbed his temples, trying to ease the worst headache he’d ever had in his life. The pounding was so intense it felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Unfortunately, even that pain didn’t distract him from

the fact that he had no idea where Triana was or how he was going to locate her. He wanted to go find her as soon as he’d heard Quinn had kidnapped her, but Lorenzo and Drew stopped him, pointing out that Lee owned property all over New Orleans and even more outside the city. There was no telling where Quinn might have taken her. “What about his home?” Remy asked. “You said he has a big plantation home near the lake, right?” Lorenzo nodded. “Yeah, up in Kenner. But that’s just one of his houses. What are the chances Quinn took her there? Hell, for all we know, this thing with Triana might not have anything to do with Lee. It might just be Quinn covering up the trail of a murder he committed on his own.” Remy didn’t even want to think about the part of that Lorenzo had left unsaid—that Quinn might have killed Triana already. He refused to contemplate that, because if he did, he didn’t think he could keep going. He would find Triana and get her back. A voice in his head asked him what he’d do then regarding the way he felt about her. One problem at a time. “Dammit, you shouldn’t have moved without a warrant!” The shout came from farther back in the warehouse, sending an ice pick of pain lancing through his head. Remy growled, trying to tune out ADA Russo’s incessant whining. The prick had shown up ten minutes ago, losing his mind over the fact that Lorenzo had moved against Aaron Lee without his involvement. Remy had known the man had

only gone after Lee for the political gain, but it was like the lawyer couldn’t accept that he’d finally won, even with the evidence on the way to lockup. Russo was shouting again, some crap about probable cause this time. Remy did his best to shut out the rest. He’d heard the lawyer’s complaints at least ten times already. How the courts would throw out the drugs and everything found in this warehouse due to a lack of probable cause. How that would destroy the link to Aaron Lee and prevent any sane judge from issuing search warrants for the man’s home and businesses. How this had all been nothing but a big waste of time. Remy was so tired of hearing the man’s crap, not to mention Lorenzo’s and everyone else’s patient attempts to convince Russo the informant’s tip was more than enough to support probable cause. “Do you really think a judge like Thibodeau, or any judge for that matter, is going to accept the word of a career criminal like Chad Roth over Aaron Lee’s?” Russo let out a short laugh. “Roth will simply come across as a snake who betrayed his own boss, thinking he could take over the operation once Lee was in prison. You’ll get nothing based on that guy’s word.” Remy’s head was pounding so hard at the moment that he didn’t care what Russo thought about nearly anything, but something about what the man had just said bothered him. Without being sure exactly what it was, he left the doorway and walked toward the back of the warehouse. When he got there, Russo was babbling on about some

stupid idea of not even attempting to pin the drug charges on Lee, insisting it would instead make more sense to charge the men they’d arrested at the warehouse and hope one of them flipped on Lee. Lorenzo must have thought that was insane because he was looking at the ADA as if the man had just grown a flipper out of his head. Drew’s expression was pretty much the same, while Max, Brooks, Zane, and the local SWAT officers that had stayed behind were regarding the lawyer with frowns. “How did you know Roth was the informant?” Remy asked, his concern with Russo finally taking shape. Everyone, including the ADA, turned and looked at him in confusion. “What?” Russo said. Remy moved closer, gazing down at the lawyer. “You said that no judge would ever take the word of Chad Roth over Lee’s, implying you knew Roth was the informant. It’s a simple question. How did you know Roth was the informant?” Russo continued to look confused for a moment, then shrugged. “I heard it on the scanner on the way over. The ambulance crew said Chad Roth was the informant and that he’d been critically wounded prior to the raid.” Remy eyed Russo for a moment, then glanced at Brooks. His pack mate simply gave a slow shake of his head, his eyes deadly serious. Just as he’d thought. Russo was lying. Remy opened his mouth to point that out, but Lorenzo spoke up first. “The EMTs weren’t given a name, and as far as they knew,

he was just one of Lee’s people injured in the raid. They definitely didn’t know he was the informant. And they couldn’t check his wallet for an ID, since I made sure I took it before they left. I wanted him admitted to the hospital as a John Doe in case Lee tried to come after him again.” Russo looked at each of them, sweat beading on his brow. “Then I must have heard it over the SWAT radio. Simple mistake.” “This operation has been on radio lockdown from the start. No one announced anything over the radio,” Drew said. Russo eyes narrowed. “Look, I heard it over one of the radio channels that Roth was the informant. Why the hell does it matter where I heard it since it’s true?” “Because if we’re right, and you didn’t hear about Roth over the radio, the only way you could have known he was the informant is if someone else told you.” Remy crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone like Aaron Lee or Shelton Quinn.” Russo looked startled for a minute, then let out a snort. “Right. I’ve been in contact with Lee and his muscle-headed bodyguard because I desperately wanted them to know one of their own people was ratting them out to the cops.” Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw Brooks shake his head again, letting him know the lawyer was still full of shit. “Actually, I think that’s exactly what’s going on here,” Remy said. “I’m sure Lee was thrilled when you passed along Captain Barron’s comments about the informant

being in his organization for three years. That must have made it pretty damn easy for Lee to figure out who it was.” “That’s crazy!” Russo shouted, looking around at each of them as if he expected someone to help him. “You can’t think that I would do something like that.” Remy shrugged. “We might not, but the investigators at the PIB certainly will, especially when I tell them what Roth whispered in my ear right before he passed out.” Russo’s eyes stopped darting around to focus on Remy. “No one said anything about Roth making a statement. What did he say?” Remy knew he was taking a chance lying like this, but he also knew the ADA was about to lose it. The man’s pulse must have been pinging up around 150 beats a minute. “We didn’t say anything earlier because, honestly, we didn’t really understand what he meant at the time,” Remy said. “I mean, who wouldn’t be confused when a guy in that much pain grabs your tactical vest and rasps out, It’s the lawyer? Of course, now that you slipped up and established your connection to Lee, it makes so much more sense. I’m sure the PIB will agree. They’re going to dig through your life with a microscope until they find the link between you and Lee.” Russo’s eye widened as Lorenzo pulled his cuffs out. “No way.” He held up both hands as if warding them off. “No way is the PIB going to make a case against me based on the dying declaration of a con like Roth.” “Probably not,” Remy agreed. “But they’ll certainly base it on the dying declaration of a police officer who spent the

past few years undercover so he could get close to Lee.” Russo turned so pale Remy through the man was going to pass out. “Roth is a cop?” Remy nodded as Lorenzo walked around behind Russo and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Yup. And I wouldn’t pin too much hope on Roth not making it. He seems pretty tough to me. Not that it’s going to matter to you. Whether it’s conspiracy to murder a police officer or the actual murder itself, both will get you a needle in the arm.” As Remy suspected, Russo immediately spilled his guts the moment Lorenzo slapped the cuffs on him, saying he’d only helped Lee because the man had threatened him, that he would testify against Lee in court, and that he never would have gone along with the situation if he’d known Roth was a cop. Remy didn’t pay attention to the rest as Lorenzo and several of the local SWAT officers took the former ADA away. He’d stopped caring about Russo the moment he confessed. Now that they’d exposed the department’s rat, he went back to worrying about Triana and wondering where she was. He pondered for a second if Russo might know something but dismissed that idea as ridiculous. Lee had used Russo. He sure as hell wouldn’t tell the lawyer anything that might come back to hurt him. If Remy was going to find Triana, it was going to have to be by some other way—like a frigging miracle. When his phone rang a few minutes later, Remy yanked it out so fast the threads on his pocket tore. He prayed it was Triana, but he didn’t recognize the number. He thumbed the

green button and held it to his ear. He’d been hoping for a miracle. Maybe this was it. “Remy, thank God you answered,” Gemma said. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to reach you with the storm. I need your help.” His heart sank. Damn. Gemma must have realized Triana was missing and was freaking out. What the hell was he going to tell her? “I’m a little busy right now, Gemma.” The moment Remy said her name, Max, Brooks, and Zane all turned to look his way. Remy considered keeping the truth from Triana’s mother, thinking it would be easier on her. Gemma’s husband had been violently murdered two years ago. She’d never be able to handle another blow this big. But he couldn’t do that. Not to Triana’s mother. “Gemma, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we think Triana has been kidnapped.” Remy expected Gemma to immediately break down crying, but instead the older woman sighed. “I know that already,” she said. “Why do you think I called you? I know who has her and where she is. I need you and your friends to get her back for me.” Remy did a double take. Triana’s mother knew she’d been kidnapped? His pack mates were clearly just as shocked if the way they moved closer was any indication. With their exceptional hearing, they’d obviously heard what Gemma said, even from as far away as they’d been standing. “What do you mean, you know who has her?” he asked carefully, not wanting to imply that she didn’t have a clue

how bad this really was. “How could you know who has her? She was only kidnapped barely more than an hour ago.” Gemma snorted. “Because the people who took her called me wanting to make a trade.” Remy exchanged looks with his pack mates, seeing his own confusion reflected in their eyes. “I think you need to start at the beginning, Gemma, because this isn’t making a lot of sense,” he said. “Triana was kidnapped because she was trying to track down the man who killed her father. Why would he want to make a trade?” The phone was silent for so long that Remy thought the connection might have been broken, but then Gemma’s voice came back firm and strong and more than a little angry. “Damn headstrong girl. So much like her father.” There was another long sigh. “They want to make a trade because a man named Aaron Lee wants something he thinks I have, and he wants it very badly.” Remy was just getting over the shock of realizing that Gemma really did know everything that was going on, when it hit him—he knew exactly what was behind Triana’s abduction. “This is about that damn necklace that lawyer has been trying to buy from you all week, isn’t it?” “It is,” she said softly. “Lee thinks the necklace will allow him to turn into a werewolf. Of course, he has a good reason to think that since the last man to wear it actually was a werewolf.” Remy was pretty sure his eyes almost bulged out of his

head, and it had nothing to do with his headache. Even so, he was relatively chill compared to his pack mates. They looked like they were going to pass out. “Um, Gemma,” he murmured. He was desperately trying to understand what the hell was going on, but things were moving too fast. “You know that sounds a little crazy, right?” Gemma sighed again, louder this time. “Remy, we don’t have time for this. Yes, I know about werewolves. Yes, Rufus was one. And yes, I know that you and your friends from Dallas are all werewolves too. Alphas, actually. Which I have to admit caught me off guard, since it’s very unusual to see multiple alphas able to coexist like the four of you do. Regardless, now that we have the werewolf crap out of the way, can we get back to the important issue of your going to rescue my daughter?” Remy stood there dumbfounded, the phone pressed to his ear, his head swimming. “Um, okay. So you have this wolfhead necklace that can really turn someone into a werewolf, and Aaron Lee wants it?” “Yes, he wants it. Unfortunately, even though I offered to give it to him in trade for Triana, I don’t actually have it. It disappeared the night Rufus was murdered. I’d gladly give it in exchange for my daughter, especially since it doesn’t have the power to transform a person into anything, much less a werewolf.” “Wait, hold on a second. I can’t keep up with all this.” Remy was so frigging confused right then, he didn’t know where to start. “You said Lee knows the necklace can turn

him into a werewolf. That’s why he wants it.” “No,” she replied in a calm, patient voice. “I said he thinks it can turn him into a werewolf, and since he has my daughter, I sure wasn’t going to correct his error. In reality, the necklace was a voodoo spirit charm I made for Rufus before we were married. It was designed to help him control his animal rages.” Something clicked then about all the things he remembered about Triana’s dad. The size, the mane of shaggy, blond hair, the way he was always so quick to anger, the reputation he had for getting into fights—and finishing them. There was only one kind of werewolf defined by that lack of control and violent behavior. “Triana’s father was an omega, wasn’t he?” Remy asked. “Yes, he was,” Gemma said softly. “But he never lost control with Triana or me, not even once. He was the sweetest, gentlest, kindest man when he was with us.” She paused. “I always thought a roving band of hunters had caught up with Rufus, but now I realize Lee must have figured out what my husband was and had his men kill Rufus.” “If he thought so little of your husband that he wanted him dead, why would he want a necklace he thinks could turn him into the same thing?” Remy asked. “I don’t know for sure, but as power hungry as Lee has always been, I can only guess it’s for the obvious reason— to make him stronger. A criminal like Lee only stays in power until someone bigger comes along. A man his age has to be thinking about extending his shelf life.”

Remy was silent for a moment. “You told him you’d give him the necklace, even though you don’t have it now?” “Yes,” Gemma said simply. “He wants me to bring it to his plantation house in Kenner. He was feeling gracious because of the storm, so he told me to be there in two hours.” “That doesn’t give us a lot of time,” Remy said, wishing he knew more about the plantation house Lee lived in. “How big is this property of his? Any idea what security is like?” “I was there years and years ago, when Lee and my husband were on somewhat better terms with each other,” Gemma said. “It’s an extremely big place with a high security fence and a lot of wide-open space between the fence and the main house. If it’s like it used to be, he probably has a dozen people working security for him, maybe more now that he’s gotten older and has to worry about people coming after his empire.” Remy swore as he realized they’d have to hit the place while it was still daylight. “The storm will provide some cover, but getting across those open spaces in the daytime is going to be tough. If security sees us as we’re moving into position, Triana is going to pay the price.” “That’s why I’ll be going with you,” Gemma said, “to provide a distraction.” Remy opened his mouth to say no way, but she cut him off. “Don’t even start with me. You four are alphas, and I know what alphas can do. But this is my daughter we’re talking about, and I’m going to help get her back. You’re going to need everyone focused on the

front gate when you make your move, and I can make that happen.” “Gemma, it’s too dangerous,” he growled. “I’m not willing to risk your life to save Triana’s. She’d kill me if something happened to you. I’ll find another way.” “No, you won’t,” Gemma said. “I’m already on the way to Lee’s house right now. You can either let me help you, or figure out how to rescue both of us.” Remy’s response was equal parts cursing and growling. Shit, she was stubborn as hell. He could understand how Gemma could have been married to an omega werewolf. She was a frigging force of nature. “Lee is expecting me,” Gemma interrupted. “While I have his attention on me, you and your friends go in there and get my little girl out. I’m depending on you, and whether she knows it or not, so is Triana.” Remy ground his jaw but forced himself to calm down. “Okay. We’ll do it your way. Just don’t do anything stupid until we get there.” “I won’t do anything stupid,” Gemma assured him. “Just don’t dawdle. I don’t like the idea of my daughter in the hands of those monsters.” Neither did Remy. “We’ll get her out safely. I promise,” he said. Gemma gave him Lee’s address, and while he didn’t know that particular part of the lake area, he knew he could find it. As he was about to hang up, Gemma stopped him. “I know alphas are tough, maybe tougher than my Rufus was, but you need to be careful. At least some of Lee’s people

know about werewolves and how to kill them. It’s the only thing that explains what they did to my husband.” Remy promised they’d be careful, even though it was a lie. He was going in there to get Triana back, no matter what he had to do. He didn’t care if he lived through it or not. He put his phone away, then checked to make sure his pack mates had caught all of the conversation when Drew walked up. “I didn’t hear everything, but I heard enough to know that you’re going after Lee. You aren’t dumb enough to think that I’d let you go alone, are you?”

Chapter 16 Triana sat tied to the chair in the study, tears in her eyes as Quinn went into great detail about how her father had been murdered, while Lee sat in the chair opposite her, smiling. She had no idea which of the men was more insane: Quinn, who seemed to get off on describing the killing, or Lee, who obviously enjoyed seeing the pain on her face. Either way, all she could think about was what it would be like to do the same thing to these two that they’d done to her father. “There were five hunters in all,” Quinn said. “They told me they never go out in teams of fewer than that. And every time they go out, they treat it like a military operation. Quick, efficient, and with one purpose—to kill every werewolf they find.” His mouth curved into a sneer. “I got to go along to watch, just to confirm the kill for Mr. Lee. I have to say, I was impressed.” If Triana hadn’t been so upset about her father, she would have been terrified there were people out there like Quinn and Lee who were so delusional they really believed this

stuff enough to hunt down and butcher people. “They were the coldest bastards I think I’ve ever seen in my life,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “And that’s saying a lot. But they weren’t lying when they said they were efficient. Those boys really knew what the hell they were doing.” Quinn walked over to the window, looking outside at the rain pouring down beyond the broad balcony outside the study. Then he glanced at his watch, leaving her to wonder how much more time she had. “They had this spray they put all over themselves and me,” Quinn continued as he stared out at the rain. “I couldn’t smell a damn thing, but they said it would mask our scents from a werewolf. I thought that was pretty cool. Then those five boys kicked in the front door and walked right into the club and started shooting. Two of them were carrying big old dart guns the size of an elephant rifle. The darts were full of some kind of animal tranquilizer they said would slow down your dad enough for the kill shot.” Fresh tears rolled down her face as she listened to the story of her father being treated like some kind of poor animal that didn’t even matter. “I don’t want to hear any more,” she begged. “Just stop.” Quinn laughed, turning to look at her. “But I’m getting to the best part. See, the two guys with the dart guns were like the junior team members. The other three—they were the real hunters. They all carried silenced weapons, and when the shooting started, they went for heart and head shots. I have to hand it to your father; he really was a tough son of a

bitch. Even with five hunters getting the drop on him, he gave them the shit. Pumped full of enough tranquilizers to knock out an elephant and hit about half a dozen times, he still kept coming. He ripped out the throats of those two boys with the dart guns and was heading for another when the leader of the group—a big fucking dude with eyes that would make a shark piss its pants—stepped up and ended it with a shot through your daddy’s head.” He grinned. “Bam! From, like, two feet away. Fucking brains went everywhere.” Triana was crying so hard she could barely talk, but she forced out the words she needed to say. “You people are insane. You killed a man—my father—not a werewolf!” Quinn only laughed. Lee, on the other hand, stood up and walked over to stand so close to her that she almost knocked over the chair trying to get away from him. Lee leaned down even closer but then stopped, momentarily distracted by a popping sound from outside. Quickly dismissing it, he turned his attention back to her. “Yes, we are insane, Ms. Bellamy,” he said softly. “Which is something I hope your mother takes into account when it comes to giving me what I want. Because if she doesn’t give me that necklace, what those hunters did to your father will pale in comparison to what I’m going to do to you.” Looking into the man’s cold eyes, Triana shivered as goose bumps raced up her back. “Mom says she doesn’t have the necklace.” “She’s lying.” Lee turned away and walked back to his chair, sitting again. “Quinn saw it on the body after your

father was killed. Your mother must have taken it off before he was buried. I know it’s not there now because I dug him up to look.” Triana had thought she was done being shocked by these men. She was wrong. They had actually dug up her father? She was about to call Lee every foul name she’d ever heard —and she’d heard a lot of them—when his phone rang. Lee answered, listening for a moment. Then he got to his feet, the smile on his face twisted into anger. “What the hell are you talking about? She’s one old woman.” He clenched his teeth together so hard Triana thought he might shatter them. Even Quinn looked concerned. “Yes, you incompetent idiot,” Lee ground out. “I’ll be right there. Don’t let her go anywhere, or the next person getting shot will be you.” “Everything okay, boss?” Quinn asked when Lee hung up. Lee scowled. “That was security. It seems that Mrs. Bellamy has arrived. She shot one of the guards at the front gate in the leg and is currently threatening to shoot the other two guards and throw the necklace in the swamp unless I come out and guarantee her safe passage to see her daughter.” Triana’s heart started beating faster at the knowledge that her mother was here and actually going to come in. What was her mom doing? She couldn’t think that a promise from a man like Lee meant anything. “Don’t you dare hurt her!” Triana shouted at Lee and Quinn as they turned to leave. Ignoring her, Lee opened the heavy double doors and

motioned to the men outside the room. “Get more security to the front gate; then bring the girl downstairs. Keep her quiet until I have what I need; then kill her.” Triana was still shouting at Lee to leave her mother out of this when two muscular men with bored expressions on their faces untied her from the chair and dragged her out of the room.

*** “Lee and a large group of security guards are headed for the front gate in three SUVs,” Drew announced over the radio earpiece secured in Remy’s ear, speaking louder than usual so he could be heard over the wind and rain. “It appears Gemma shooting that guard did the trick. You’ve got your distraction.” Remy growled, not sure what frustrated him more—that Drew had forced his way onto this operation or that Gemma had gotten a gun somewhere. He pushed both thoughts from his mind as he and Max jumped the fence along the back side of Lee’s property and ran toward the main house the moment they hit the rain-soaked grass on the far side. They had about four hundred feet of open ground to cover, which would have normally been a suicide mission any other day of the week. But with the distraction Gemma was providing and the rain coming down so hard it was tough seeing more than twenty feet ahead of them, Remy hoped they’d be okay. His gut clenched with worry, Remy tried to ignore the sense of fear bubbling to the surface and put on all the speed his werewolf abilities could muster. Pushing himself that

hard made his fangs and claws slip out too, but it was a small price to pay for the swiftness he needed. Fighting the wind and avoiding the occasional piece of flying debris slowed him and Max down a little, but they still made it to the house in less than thirty seconds. They’d just reached the cover of the stacked stone wall that made up the back of Lee’s ungodly expensive plantation home when Brooks’s calm voice came across the radio. “I’m in the garage and I’m picking up scents as well as the sounds of movement on the far side of a set of double doors that lead into the house,” he said softly. “Multiple males, one female. Standing by to move on your word, but this door is seriously heavy duty. It might take me a while to get through it.” Of course Lee has heavy doors connecting his monster garage to his monster house, Remy thought. The asshole probably stole them from a frigging castle in Germany. “Roger that,” he whispered softly around his fangs. His control was shot to shit at the moment, so he was having a difficult time getting them to retract. “Max and I are at the back and moving in to get a fix on Triana’s location.” He and Max slipped around to the pool entrance, hesitating long enough to confirm there weren’t any other guards back there, then snapped the lock on the french doors that led inside. The sounds of a TV show reached him at the same time Triana’s scent hit him in the face, almost making him shift further. Remy fought down the urge and stepped into the kitchen, only to freeze as a numbing cascade of sensations washed

over him. Shit, it felt like someone had shoved him under a waterfall of human emotions. All at once he was hit with a painful pinching feeling around his wrists, a sense of dread that had his gut nearly heaving, and an overpowering fear that made his heart start beating so hard he thought it might burst. Max grabbed his arm, concern on his face. You okay? he mouthed. For a moment, Remy wasn’t sure he was okay. He was having a hard time getting control of all the bizarre sensations bombarding him. He was drowning in a sea of emotions and feelings that weren’t his own, and it was disorienting as hell. “Remy, what’s your status in there?” Drew called out over the radio, his voice jarring Remy out of the sensory overload loop he’d been stuck in. “Lee and his men are at the gate and if you don’t do something soon, we’re going to be in trouble out here.” Remy shook his head to clear it and crossed the immense kitchen, with its high-end cabinets and expensive granite countertops, toward Triana’s scent. Drew and Zane were out front covering Gemma by themselves, and if the situation out there turned into a shoot-out, they faced the serious possibility of getting overwhelmed, especially if Zane had to hold back and not reveal his true nature to the NOPD cop they hadn’t been able to dissuade from coming along to help. If Lee’s men got past Drew and Zane, Gemma wouldn’t stand a chance. Max kept him covered as Remy slipped out of the kitchen,

through a huge dining room, and down a long hall. He stopped just before an arched opening to the right of the hallway, not needing his nose or his ears to tell him Triana was nearby. He swore he could frigging feel her just inside the room beyond. The urge to run in there and save her was hard to get a grip on. He took a breath and focused on what he knew he had to do—he had to think instead of acting out of instinct, as much as the werewolf inside might have wanted to. Taking a deeper breath, he picked up Brooks’s fainter scent. After getting himself oriented to the layout of the house, he realized the door his pack mate was waiting behind led to the room Triana was in. That was good. It meant they’d be able to come into the room from two sides at once. Remy dropped to his knees by the arched entryway, then closed his eyes and extended his senses. Normally a SWAT officer in this kind of situation would pull out a small hand mirror and use it to check out the room beyond, but that wasn’t necessary when you were a werewolf. Using his nose and ears, he was able to paint a picture of the number of people in the room and where they were located. He knew that Triana was on the right side of the room, while the four men inside were scattered around her in a loose semicircle. Based on their positions in the room, all four of the men seemed to be facing in some direction other than the entryway Remy was kneeling in. Another bit of good luck. He reached down and fingered the gris-gris bag Gemma had given him all those years ago. Just keep

working, he prayed. Just help me get Triana out of this. He leaned forward a little to get a quick visual, then jerked his head back. What he’d seen in that one second had confirmed what his other senses had told him. It also scared the hell out of him at the same time. To the left side of the large, posh living room, two men stood by a short set of stairs that led to the heavy oak doors Brooks had described. Another man was standing in front of an expensive wide-screen TV, apparently intent on watching a guy with shorts, tattoos, and a shocking head of bleachedblond hair shove a whole burrito in his mouth on some kind of cooking show. About twenty feet away, on the right side of the room, Triana was sitting on the couch, looking terrified. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her wrists were bound cruelly in front of her. The sight of her made his fangs shove out even farther. He wanted to kill every man who had dared to touch her. Remy took a deep breath and forced himself to stop thinking about that as he considered the last man in the room, the one standing closest to Triana, a pistol held casually and comfortably in his hands. Remy’s werewolf instincts told him this was the most dangerous man in the room. The way the guy looked at Triana made Remy want to storm into the room to protect her. But Remy couldn’t do that, not with how close the man was standing to Triana, ready to shoot her. He needed the man distracted long enough for him to either put a bullet in him or run into the room and get

Triana out of there. And after a few seconds of thought, he knew exactly how to do it. Getting to his feet, Remy took a few steps back, covering his mouth as he whispered into his radio mic. “Brooks, I need you to set a charge on the center of the double doors and blow them on my mark.” There was only the barest hint of hesitation on Brooks’s part. As the senior officer on the team, Brooks could have nixed the plan, but Remy knew his pack mate wouldn’t do that because the woman Remy cared about was at risk. “The wood is going to frag,” Brooks whispered. “Is Triana clear of the door?” “She will be,” Remy said firmly. “Be ready to go in ten seconds.” “Roger that,” Brooks confirmed. “On your mark.” Remy motioned to Max, making sure the younger werewolf knew what they were doing and that Remy wanted him to focus on the man by the TV. Turning back to the entryway, he dropped to one knee and forced himself to relax. The man standing right next to Triana would be his responsibility. When the door charge blew on the left side of the room, the man would instinctively turn and throw up his hands to protect himself—it was a reflex reaction that couldn’t be overruled. That would give Remy the time he needed to get to the man before he hurt Triana. But for his plan to work, he needed to get Triana’s attention—and pray she remembered those hand signals he’d shown her a couple of days ago. Because if either of those two things failed to happen, Triana would get hit by the

door debris. The thought of the damage that would do to her was simply something he refused to think about.

*** Triana’s pulse raced as she sat on the couch in Lee’s living room. She was scared to death for her mom. What was happening outside at the front gate? Would the next ring of a cell phone mean these insane bastards had killed her mother and were about to do the same to her? With her hands still tied and four big, armed men surrounding her, she doubted there was anything she could do to stop any of this, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to sit here and wait for it to happen. She glanced down at the big coffee table in front of the couch, her eyes coming to rest on the decorative wooden bowl full of shells, glass beads, and colored sand. It seemed out of place. Lee didn’t strike her as the kind of man who was into decorative anything unless it was arm candy. If she dumped out the stuff inside, the wood bowl might be heavy enough to bash someone’s head in. She turned her head slightly, trying to see exactly where the guy behind her was standing. If she moved fast, she could grab the bowl, swing it around, and hit the jerk with the gun. If that worked, she could get the weapon and use it against the other three. It was insane, especially since she wasn’t sure she could fire the weapon with her hands tied, even if she was lucky enough to get it. But it was a plan, and right now, she was ready to try anything.

As she reached toward the bowl in front of her, the strangest sensation she’d ever felt in her life came over her, almost taking her breath away. One second her heart was thudding in her chest and her whole body was shaking in fear, and the next, a feeling of deep calm washed over her. Not understanding why she was even doing it, Triana glanced over her shoulder at the arched opening that led toward the back of the house. There, in the shadows of the leftmost side of the entryway, she saw something that made her eyes widen. Remy was down on one knee, most of his face and body hidden by the frame of the entryway and the dark shadows cast by the lights in the living room. But she knew it was him. Even without seeing his face, she knew it was him. Relief swept through her, making her dizzy. But at the same time, she felt a stab of fear. Was he here alone? Was he going to try to save her all by himself? Was he going to get himself killed charging into a room full of psychos? That thought was more terrifying than facing death herself. Her first instinct was to shout at him to run, to save her mom and get out of there. But then she saw his hands move. At first she had no idea what he was doing. He had one hand up, his fingers splayed wide, while the other hand was horizontal to the floor. As she watched, one upraised finger went down, leaving four still up. Then another dropped, leaving three. Her mind was transported to a happier memory, of the two of them walking through the French Quarter and him telling

her how his SWAT teammates communicated with each other while on a raid by using hand signals. Three fingers, now two. He was counting down to something. The hand flat to the floor meant…oh crap, what did that mean? As another finger dropped, she remembered. Hand flat to the floor means get down! Triana had a half second before the last finger closed into a fist to throw herself to the floor. She’d barely hit the expensive wood when the room above her exploded in sound, smoke, and whistling debris. She heard grunts of pain and people falling, but then there was movement near her head, and even though the force of the blast had stunned her, she still turned around to see the man with the gun coming at her. There was blood running down the side of his face and he looked furious. She tried to scramble away, but he was too close. He grabbed her hair and yanked her to her knees, the force of the motion twisting her neck so much she thought he might break it. She saw the gun coming up toward her head and realized she was going to die. She struggled, refusing to go like this with Remy so close and her mother in danger, but she knew it wasn’t going to make a difference. Then a snarling growl ripped through the room, making the man with the gun freeze. Triana twisted her head toward the sound, ignoring how much it hurt. Remy charged toward her, covering the distance across the room in a blur as he moved faster than anyone she’d ever seen. Then she saw the claws, the long white fangs, and the

glowing, yellow eyes, and a part of her mind insisted it couldn’t possibly be Remy. The guy with the gun hesitated for a moment, as shocked as Triana by what he saw. He seemed to be unsure if he should shoot her or the thing coming at him like a freight train. Finally, after a split second, he made up his mind and turned his gun on Triana. That indecision provided Remy—or the thing she thought was Remy—all the time he needed. Triana screamed and tried to duck as the thing with the fangs and claws leaped straight at her, but the man still held her fast. As Remy jumped completely over her, she heard a heavy thud and felt a slight tug in her hair as the man with the gun went down. There was another crash as Remy and the man hit the floor, then chaos reigned as the entire room seemed to go insane. There was a loud pop of the man’s gun going off, a blur of movement to her left as one of Lee’s other men flew sideways through the air and smashed through the TV, and a huge shape at the far end of the living room that looked like Brooks throwing two men around like they were dolls. The man who’d been about to shoot her hit a bookcase, slamming into it so hard that part of the shelves collapsed. Then Remy was down on his knees in front of her. The fangs and eyes she’d told herself must have been a construct of her fear-shredded imagination were still there, an unmistakable part of the man she’d spent the past five days with. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, the room around

them grew quiet. His eyes glowed gold, making her wonder if all those flashes of light she’d seen so many times hadn’t actually been a reflection at all. But even though they were a different color and were somehow lit from within, she still recognized them as Remy’s eyes. She even saw the worry and concern there in their strange depths. He reached out a hand toward her and she instinctively scrambled back on the floor away from him. She hated herself for doing it, hated the pain she saw in his eyes even more, but she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried. She was too confused to understand what was happening right then. Triana wanted to say something, but no words would come. Outside, gunfire erupted, and she flinched. It took her half a second to realize the shooting was coming from the front gate. “Mom,” she breathed. She pushed herself to her feet, but before she could take more than two steps, Remy was at her side, scooping her up in his arms. The next thing she knew, he set her on her feet beside Max. “Keep her here with you,” Remy ordered. Then, he and Brooks raced out of the room toward the sound of the gunfire. Triana considered trying to dash around him for the door, but then remembered the blur of movement that had come right before Lee’s goon had crashed into the TV. Was Max like Remy? Some kind of freak with fangs and claws? Afraid to think about it, she stood there as the shooting

intensified outside, thinking about what she’d seen and praying her mother would be okay.

Chapter 17 With the power knocked out from the storm, it was as dark in her mother’s shop as it was outside, but Triana barely noticed. She was simply too exhausted, physically and mentally, to care by the time they finally got home. She wasn’t sure what she thought about having Remy and his SWAT teammates there, even if they had saved her life and her mother’s. She felt horrible for even thinking like that, but she was so confused by everything she’d seen and needed time to figure it all out. Not that how she felt seemed to matter at the moment, since not only had Remy refused to leave them on their own, but her mother had also firmly stated she wouldn’t stand for any of the men driving back to their hotel at that time of night, not with the way the wind and rain was kicking up right then. So the guys stayed downstairs in the shop, making sure the windows weren’t going to blow in and water wasn’t going to come rushing under the door, while Triana went upstairs with her mother, hoping to get her head around everything.

She sat at the kitchen table while her mom bustled around the kitchen, heating up soup on the gas stove and getting all the flashlights and emergency lamps out. Triana had no idea how her mother did it. The events at Lee’s house had drained her like a battery. She couldn’t even put in the effort to change out of her wet clothes. Half of her exhaustion came from all the questions the police had asked her after the shooting had stopped. Triana was a little surprised the cops had even shown up, considering the storm was so bad, but she supposed a shootout involving automatic weapons didn’t happen every day in Kenner, so police, detectives, and politicians had come out of the woodwork. Following her mother’s suggestions, she’d kept her statements brief and vague. Quinn had lured her to a warehouse in the Marigny by saying he had information relating to her father’s murder. When she’d gotten there, she’d seen Quinn shoot another man; then, Quinn had knocked her unconscious and taken her to Lee’s home. Lee and Quinn had confessed to arranging the murder of her father because he refused to sell drugs through his club. Lee had lured her mother to his home to clean up any loose ends; then, the SWAT officers had stormed the place and rescued her. She stayed away from any mention of werewolves or questions that veered outside the boundaries of her narrow story line. Of course, those were the questions the Kenner PD were most interested in. Why had Quinn told her about her father’s murder? Why had a team from New Orleans and

Dallas SWAT come to her rescue? Where were Lee and Quinn now? Why were the men in custody claiming they’d been attacked by glowing-eyed monsters? Triana’s answer to those questions and all the others just as impossible to explain was a plain and simple “I don’t know.” She didn’t realize she’d been sitting at the table that long, but the next thing Triana knew, her mother set a big bowl of steaming soup in front of her, with a ham and cheese sandwich on the side. She didn’t feel like eating anything, but her mom shoved the bowl toward her and pointed at it. “Eat.” Her mother set a battery-powered lamp on the table between them, then sat across from her and began eating. “I’m guessing you have a lot of questions about everything you learned and saw today.” Triana dipped her spoon in her soup, then took her time nibbling on her sandwich as she tried to figure out where to start. It wasn’t like she had to worry that her mother hadn’t seen what Remy and the others were. According to the guards at the front who’d been arrested, the SWAT cops had tackled cars and thrown men through the air like they were horseshoes. “Lee and Quinn said some really crazy stuff about Dad,” she finally said. “I thought they were off their rockers, but then I saw…things…inside the house when Remy and his friends came to get me. Things I can’t explain.” Her mother set down her sandwich and regarded Triana for a moment. “Finding out werewolves are real can be a

shock for most people.” Triana wanted to tell her that she was talking crazy, that werewolves weren’t real, that there was some other explanation. But she knew the time for doubt was over. Even though she was a scientist who liked her feet firmly planted in fact, she knew what she’d seen. “So Dad was a werewolf?” Triana couldn’t believe those words had just come out of her mouth. If anyone at the crime lab back in Houston heard her, they’d have tied her up in her own lab coat. Her mother gave her a small smile. “Yes. In fact, it’s how we met.” Triana couldn’t even begin to make sense of that statement, but since she’d already climbed fully aboard the crazy train, she figured she might as well find a seat and get comfortable. “What did his being a werewolf have to do with you guys getting together?” “You remember that your grandma ran the shop before you were born, right?” her mother asked. At Triana’s nod, she continued. “Well, your grandma had a reputation for helping a lot of unusual people in her day. As she got older, she passed that responsibility on to me. When people stopped by looking for help, I did anything I could to help them. Your father was one of those people.” “Dad came to you for help because he was a werewolf?” Triana asked. She was a little surprised at that. Her father had always been a man who liked doing things on his own.

“Yes,” her mom said. “But not quite in the way you think. You see, there are three kinds of werewolves—alphas, betas, and omegas. Your father was an omega, meaning he had some anger management issues. When he got mad, his inner wolf would come out, and he was worried that sooner or later, someone would get hurt. He lived in fear of that happening, so he came to the shop looking for something to help him stay in control.” Realization dawned on Triana. “The necklace!” Her mother nodded. “Exactly. The wolf pendant was a charm designed to ward off negative energies and reinforce positive energy.” “Did it work?” Her mom tried not to look too smug. “I admit, it was one of my more inspired pieces. But while it was very powerful, I prefer to believe it was your father’s love for you and me that kept him stable. After all, love is by far the most powerful force in the universe.” Triana dipped her spoon into her soup again. Clearly, the world was a far more complicated place than she had ever imagined. “Why didn’t you or Dad ever tell me any of these things?” “Why?” Her mother smiled gently. “Because you were always much happier studying your own particular form of magic. We felt no need to confuse you with ours.” Triana supposed she could understand that. She’d always been into science and had never bought into the voodoo stuff her mother did. She probably would have thought her parents were crazy if they tried to tell her about werewolves.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling saddened by that fact. While it was strange trying to reconcile the sweet, kind man she knew with the savage ferocity she’d witnessed that night, it felt like there was a part of her father she’d missed getting to know. Triana went back to her soup and sandwich, partly because she wanted to eat while it was still hot, but mostly because she needed time to think about what she wanted to ask her mom next. Her first instinct was to ask if her mom had known Remy was a werewolf before tonight, but she pushed that aside until later. The whole subject of Remy was too painful to get into right then. “Quinn implied Lee and Dad used to be friends,” Triana finally said. “Is that true?” Her mother sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. When I met your father, he was Lee’s enforcer. Since he was an omega werewolf, he was very good at his job. To some degree, your father was the brawn responsible for building most of Lee’s empire. But when he met me, that changed. I told him if he wanted to be with me, he couldn’t be in that life anymore.” Triana smiled. She could definitely see her mom laying down the law like that. “How did Dad handle the ultimatum?” “Better than I expected,” her mother admitted. “But only because he loved me so much. When you came along, it reinforced the importance of what he was doing.” Her lips curved. “The moment your father saw you for the first time, his entire world flipped upside down. He bought the club,

settled down, and became an even better husband and a tremendous father. I was aware he still did an odd job for Lee on the side now and then out of some misplaced loyalty to the man, but by and large, he stayed on the straight and narrow.” Triana’s heart ached at the memory of her father and how much she missed him right then. “Lee said he hired some people he called hunters to murder Dad because he wouldn’t sell drugs out of the club.” Her mother closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were wet with tears. “I’m sure that was the excuse he used to justify what he did. But in reality, I don’t think Lee could ever forgive your father for walking away from him and leaving him weaker.” They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds in the dark room the clink of their spoons against the bowls and the low, deep voices of Remy and his friends drifting up the stairs. Finishing her soup, Triana pushed the bowl away and took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she tackled the big pink elephant in the room. “So, Remy and his friends…” she whispered, half-afraid they’d hear her. “They’re like Dad, aren’t they?” Her mother laughed as she finished the last of her soup. “Don’t bother to whisper, dear. Werewolves have incredible hearing. If they’ve been paying attention, they’ve heard every word we’ve said.” Triana blinked. Of course they had incredible hearing. Why not? She glanced over at the kitchen counter where

she’d cut her finger the other night—right before she’d asked Remy if he was up for a quickie. Had the other guys heard them? She blushed even as she wondered what other abilities they had. “Yes, Remy and his friends are werewolves like your father,” her mom said, bringing her attention back to their conversation. “Though technically, they’re a little different because all four of them are alphas, the more dominant kind of werewolf. They’re strong, heroic, and tend to attract a lot of attention everywhere they go. I haven’t met enough alphas to know for sure, but something tells me they’re all hunks too.” Triana laughed despite herself. Remy was definitely that. But then an image of claws and fangs flashed in her head, and she shuddered. Things between her and Remy had been falling apart before she’d learned he was a werewolf. She doubted learning something like this was going to help their chances of working anything out. The thought made her stomach churn as if it wanted to reject the soup and sandwich she’d just eaten. Her mother reached across the table and took Triana’s hand in hers. “Hon, I know this is none of my business, so if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. But I’m a little confused about what’s going on between you and Remy. A few days ago you were talking about falling for him, and now you’re sitting up here in the dark with me while the courageous man who saved your life is trapped in exile downstairs. What happened?” Triana shook her head. She couldn’t talk about it right

now. Besides, what could she say? That Remy had already been in love and didn’t want to go there again? That she had no desire to be with a man who didn’t want her? That she had no idea how she felt about a man with fangs and claws? It was more than she could put into words. “I’m tired, Mom. I just want to go to bed,” she said. “Of course, go ahead.” Her mother stood up with her and came around to her side of the table to hug her. “I love you, baby girl.” She hugged her mom back just as tightly. “I love you too.” Triana didn’t bother with a flashlight as she headed for her bedroom, since she knew the way by heart. As she passed the staircase, she felt the same pull she’d experienced in Lee’s living room. She stopped to look down the stairs and saw Remy sitting on the bottom step, an empty bowl and plate beside him, his back to her like he was guarding the entry to the apartment, guarding her and her mother. As if sensing her, he turned his head and Triana caught a glimmer of gold in the darkness. The urge to go downstairs, wrap her arms around him, and tell him how much she appreciated what he’d done for her and her mother was overwhelming. She pushed the impulse aside and headed down the hall toward her bedroom. Walking past the place where she and Remy had made love a few nights ago brought tears to her eyes, and she hurried the last few feet to her bedroom. The hot shower felt good but didn’t do much to make her feel any better. Drying off, she dragged on a long sleep shirt and climbed into bed. She lay there, staring into the dark and

listening to the wind and rain batter the window as she replayed everything that had happened that day over and over in her mind. It was difficult to reconcile the Remy she knew—or thought she knew—with the glowing yellow eyes, claws, fangs, growls, and violence she’d seen. She tried to force herself to go to sleep so she wouldn’t have to think about Remy anymore, but her stomach rolled like the dirty Mississippi, refusing to give her a moment of peace.

*** Remy and Max stopped at the NOPD SWAT facility to change into dry uniforms and get something to eat before they headed back out to help the city’s residents recover from the storm. They’d been out since six that morning, helping deliver food and water to evacuation centers, clearing streets and storm drains of debris, and handling traffic control for the crews repairing downed electrical lines. The storm hadn’t been as bad as it could have been, but it was still cloudy with occasional bands of rain moving through, and there were still a lot of people who needed help. It would have been rewarding work if Remy hadn’t felt so crappy. His stomach was tied in a frigging knot and he was exhausted as hell. He was walking past the main conference room when he caught sight of Lorenzo, Drew, Brooks, Cooper, Alex, and several of the local SWAT officers sitting around the table, shuffling though dozens of thick manila folders. Cooper and Alex had arrived in town around two a.m. and spent the

night sleeping on the floor of Gemma’s shop with the rest of them. They’d volunteered to come in this morning and help out the NOPD any way they could. “I’m going to see if they have an update on Lee and Quinn,” Remy told Max. “Grab me something to eat, will you?” Max nodded. “Will do. I really doubt those two scumbags are hanging around the city, though. They were probably scurrying across the border into Mexico before the storm even passed.” While Max was probably right about Lee and Quinn not hanging around, Remy couldn’t imagine Lee scurrying anywhere. Quinn, yes. But Lee? No way. The man would have some kind of well-thought-out and cushy evacuation plan already put into place for a situation like this. Something involving a fancy yacht or a private jet. Remy wasn’t taking any chances. That’s why he had Zane stay at Gemma’s shop. If Lee decided to make one more run at Triana and her mother before leaving town, he was going to get a rude awakening. “Any sign of Lee or Quinn?” Remy asked as he sat down in the empty chair beside Cooper with an audible squishing sound. On the other side of the table, Brooks glanced up from whatever he was reading. “You’re going to turn into a fish if you keep getting this wet all the time.” “Yeah, no kidding,” Remy said. “So, any word?” Drew shook his head. “Nothing yet. But we have alerts at all the travel hubs and border crossings. They’ll pop up on

the radar soon, especially if they’re together.” “On the bright side,” Lorenzo said, “we’ve already started getting results back from the search warrants we served this morning. When we find Aaron Lee and Shelton Quinn, they’ll both be heading to jail for a very long time.” That was great, but Remy would have preferred if he and his pack mates had gotten Lee yesterday during the shootout at the gatehouse. Unfortunately Lee and his muscleheaded bodyguard had jumped in their vehicle and hauled ass the moment they’d seen Remy and Brooks running at them faster than humans were supposed to. Then Brooks did his signature move and slammed his shoulder into one of the SUVs. Seeing a guy tackle a car would take the fight out of anybody. After filling them in on the early results of the search warrants, Lorenzo told them Roth had come through surgery early that morning and would make a full recovery. “Okay, I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use something to eat,” the narcotics detective said when he finished. “Let’s pick this back up after lunch.” Everyone but Drew got up to join him. Remy stayed behind as well. To say he’d been frustrated yesterday when Drew had gone with them to Lee’s house to rescue Triana was an understatement, but when the questions had started coming hard and fast after the fact, he’d been glad the man was there. Drew knew people in the Kenner PD, knew who needed to get involved, and, most important, knew how to push the right buttons to keep the attention focused on Lee and Quinn and the fact that they’d attempted to kill an

undercover police officer and had kidnapped Triana. In the end, Drew had definitely kept Remy and his pack mates out of a lot of hot water—not just by smoothing the feathers that had been ruffled by having out-of-state officers conducting a raid in their city, but also by not saying anything about what he’d seen Remy and the other werewolves doing during the raid. “I never did get a chance to thank you for everything you did yesterday,” Remy said quietly. “You covered for us when a lot of people might not have.” Drew met his gaze across the table. “You mean the part where I didn’t mention the fact that you guys are part of a pack of werewolves?” Remy tried his best not to let his surprise show, but he was pretty sure he failed. He considered denying it, but what would be the point? Drew had obviously seen what they were. Brooks had tackled an SUV ten feet away from him. Still, it was a big leap from seeing something strange to calmly acknowledging they were part of a pack of werewolves. Wait a minute…part of a pack? Clearly, Drew knew more than it appeared. “How long have you known about us?” Remy asked. Drew leaned back in his chair. “I figured out back while I was still in Dallas on the SWAT team that Gage was different. I’d see him do things a normal person shouldn’t be able to do. At first I thought he was juicing on steroids or something like that, but then I saw a blitzed-out junkie shove a piece of rusty rebar through Gage’s thigh. He pulled

it out like it was nothing. When I saw him the next day in shorts and a T-shirt at morning PT, there wasn’t a mark on him. That’s when I figured out it wasn’t simply a case of better living through chemistry.” The NOPD SWAT commander fell silent as a group of his officers walked past the door with paper plates in their hands, the mouthwatering scent of sausage and crawfish gumbo following them. “Not long after that, Gage took over the team and I noticed the new people he brought in were as unique as he was,” Drew continued. “Gage was different, and the team he was putting together in Dallas was built with that difference in mind. I’m a good SWAT officer, and working with Gage made me even better, but I saw what he was trying to do. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hang with those guys for long. When the opportunity to apply for this position here in New Orleans opened up, I moved on it, and Gage helped me get it. He did the same for every officer who ultimately transferred. I always appreciated that.” Remy considered that. “Going from what you’d seen to knowing about werewolves and packs still seems like a big leap.” Drew laughed. “That part I learned once I got here. You work in New Orleans long enough and you start learning all kinds of new things—if you’re willing to open your eyes and see them. Believe it or not, werewolves aren’t that weird compared to some of the stuff I’ve run into.” Remy wasn’t sure what to say to that. This wasn’t the direction he’d expected this conversation to go. “I have to

admit, you’re taking this way better than I think most people would.” Triana came to mind. “Probably not any better than the average person on the street.” Drew regarded him thoughtfully. “You should have more faith in people. Most of them would surprise you with how accepting they can be if you give them a chance.” Remy was still considering that when Drew stood up and announced he was going to go hunt down some of that gumbo he’d been smelling. Remy nodded, saying he’d join him later. He was wondering if he should change into a dry uniform before he did, when Cooper walked in with two plates of steaming food and plunked one down on the table in front of him. “You should eat,” Cooper said as he sat down across from him. “You look like shit.” Remy snorted as he opened the plastic-wrapped utensil set Cooper tossed him. “Thanks for that. Nice to see you too.” “Just pointing out the obvious.” Cooper dug into his gumbo and rice like he hadn’t eaten in a week. “You know me. Truth and sarcasm are just two of the many services I provide.” Remy chuckled as he slid his plate of food closer. You could always count on Cooper, the Pack’s explosives expert, to interject a heavy dose of snark into any situation. The guy simply couldn’t carry on a normal conversation without slipping in at least one smart-ass comment. Remy had no idea how his new bride put up with him. He ate a big forkful of gumbo, then immediately decided

he didn’t want another bite. While the food looked amazing and smelled even better, it tasted like dirt. He shoved the plate away with a growl of frustration. Cooper looked at him. “Max mentioned you weren’t feeling so well lately. No appetite, huh?” Remy shook his head. “Not really. I guess I’ve been pushing myself too hard and it’s starting to catch up to me.” As lies went, it wasn’t bad. In fact, it sounded so logical Remy almost found himself believing it. Unfortunately, Cooper didn’t. “Is that the line you’re going with? That you’re overworked?” Cooper said, not even slowing down in between bites. “You don’t think the way you’re feeling might have something to do with what’s going on between you and Triana?” “No,” Remy insisted. There was no way he was talking to Cooper about Triana. He was doing everything he could to put her behind him. Remembering the way she’d recoiled from him after the raid at Lee’s home definitely helped accomplish that. It was obvious she couldn’t even stand to look at him. Rehashing everything wasn’t going to help. “Really?” Cooper lifted a brow. “Because Max mentioned you started feeling sick when you decided to push her away.” “Max says a lot of shit he should keep to himself,” Remy muttered, slamming his fist down on the table and growling loud enough everyone in the whole facility probably heard it.

He regretted lashing out immediately, but Cooper didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, he regarded Remy thoughtfully. “Fear leads to anger,” Cooper said softly. “Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” Remy stared at him. Where the hell did Cooper get this stuff? It sounded deep as shit, but surprisingly, it actually made sense. “Did you just make that up?” Cooper shook his head and ate another forkful of gumbo. “Nah, that was Yoda. But it seems to fit. It’s obvious you’re scared to commit to a relationship with Triana, and that fear is leading you down a path of one dumb-ass decision after another. You’re feeling like this because you’re making a mistake. And while the rest of humanity has the free will to make all kinds of dumb-ass mistakes, there are some decisions that are essentially out of a werewolf’s hands, like who they end up loving.” Remy ground his jaw. He wanted to tell Cooper he didn’t love Triana, but the thought of denying it made him sick. “So you’re trying to tell me I have no say in this? That werewolves don’t get to make a decision that’s in the best interest of everyone involved? That I can’t walk away from Triana if I know being with me is going to get her killed?” His hands shook as he said the words, pain and queasiness radiating out from his stomach in waves. This must be what it feels like to be a junkie trying to come down from a drug the body is sure it needs to exist. That’s what it felt like Triana was, something he needed in order to live. Remy got a grip and pushed that thought away. Getting involved with Triana had already gotten her kidnapped and

almost killed. He might carry a gris-gris bag, but in every way that mattered, he was cursed. If he gave in, something else bad was going to happen to the woman he cared for more than anything in the world. No matter how crappy he felt at that moment, he wasn’t going to turn his back on his promise to never let that happen again. Cooper reached over and grabbed Remy’s uneaten plate of gumbo. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said as he ate. “You have the free will necessary to walk away from Triana. It’s just going to come with a price.” Remy gritted his teeth as a particularly bad spasm of pain rushed through him, almost making him double over. Shit, he’d been shot before and it hadn’t hurt like this. He wondered if this might actually be something that ended up killing him. Then decided he didn’t care. “That’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he said. “That’s cool. Be a hard-nosed badass, then.” Cooper finished the second helping of gumbo, then picked up both paper plates and walked over to toss them in the trash can. A moment later, he came back and leaned down over the table, his face inches from Remy’s. “There’s just one thing you might want to consider as you’re suffering stoically in your misery.” Remy looked up at the other werewolf, not liking anyone this close to his grill. “What’s that?” “What makes you think you’re the only one hurting like this?” Cooper asked. “You ever consider that maybe the suffering goes both ways? Think about that.”

Straightening to his full height, Cooper walked out of the room, leaving Remy alone with his doubts, his fears, and his regrets.

Chapter 18 Triana sat at the small table in her mother’s kitchen, doing her best to eat breakfast, but the mere sight of the egg white omelet her mother had cooked made her feel ill. Out of the blue, a little voice in her head screamed out two words. Morning sickness! She told herself to chill out even as her pulse skyrocketed. No matter how queasy her stomach felt, she wasn’t pregnant. For one thing, she and Remy had used protection every time. For another, women didn’t usually get morning sickness so quickly. So, unless there was something about sleeping with a werewolf that invalidated the normal rules of conception, she was fine. Besides, she didn’t only feel like this in the morning. She’d felt crappy since Wednesday night. It didn’t escape her notice that she’d first begun feeling this way when things with Remy had fallen apart. She had no idea exactly what that meant, but something told her it couldn’t be a good thing. “Is Remy still downstairs?” she asked. Her mother came over to the table with two mugs of

coffee and sat down at the table opposite Triana. The power was back on, which meant the coffeepot was functional, so her mother was happy. Triana picked up her mug and took a sip. Her mom shook her head. “Remy left already.” Triana’s stomach lurched. “He went back to Dallas?” “No. Some of their pack mates came in during the night to help with cleanup efforts in the city. I made them breakfast before they left, and let me tell you, those boys can eat. We’re out of nearly everything. I’m going to have to make a run to the grocery store later.” Triana nodded, her heartbeat returning to normal as she realized Remy hadn’t left town yet. She really did have it bad for him. It was over between them, yet she was nearly having a panic attack at the thought of him leaving town without saying anything to her. On the other side of the table, her mother regarded her with a knowing look. “Is it that obvious?” Triana asked. “That you’re in love with Remy? Yes, that part’s obvious. What isn’t so clear is what the heck is going on between the two of you.” Triana picked up her fork but didn’t eat. Instead, she pushed her eggs around on the plate, trying to figure out where to start. “I think I fell in love with Remy when I turned around and saw him standing there that first night at the club,” she said softly. “That might not sound like a big deal to you, considering how fast you and Dad got married, but for me,

it was out there. I started thinking crazy things, like how I could see myself being with Remy for the rest of my life. I thought Remy felt the same way.” “But?” her mother prompted. Triana felt tears burn her eyes. “But a couple of days ago, something happened. I felt this weird…pop…I guess you’d call it. Like the connection between us broke. I’ve never experienced anything like it, but I knew in my heart something had changed and that Remy was pulling away.” Her mom didn’t say anything and merely waited patiently for her to continue. “Then Thursday night at dinner, before we came back and found those men in the shop, Remy told me he’d been in a relationship a long time ago and that he wasn’t interested in getting into another one. And just like that, it was over.” “Over?” her mother echoed in surprise. Triana nodded. Her mom frowned. “So, if it’s over, why did he risk his life, and the lives of his pack mates, to come rescue you?” Triana opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again. She honestly didn’t know. “Well, it seems obvious he still cares about you.” Her mother regarded her over the rim of her mug. “When Remy told you it was over, did you tell him how you feel about him?” Triana shook her head glumly. Her mother laughed as she sipped her coffee. Triana tried not to be offended, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart felt like it was broken into a million pieces, and

her mom seemed to think it was hilarious. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” she snapped. “I certainly don’t feel like laughing.” Her mother did her best to stop but couldn’t hide the smile that remained. “I know, honey, and I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re so much like me when I was your age and met your father. I told you I fell in love with him from the start, but what I didn’t tell you was that there were times when we were dating that his brooding drove me crazy. I probably would have sent him and his fangs packing if it hadn’t been for your grandma. She was able to see what we were both blind to—that we were in love with each other but too lazy to work for it.” It was Triana’s turn to frown. “Meaning?” “Meaning that loving a werewolf can be difficult. They’re big and strong, but that only means their luggage is a whole hell of a lot heavier. It takes a good soul mate to help them figure out how to carry it all. And right now, you suck in the soul mate category, dear.” Her mom had always been blunt, but it was especially hard to hear her being so truthful when it came to Triana’s relationship with Remy. “Were you afraid of Dad the first time you saw him change into a werewolf?” she asked. “No, but that was because he wasn’t the first werewolf I’d seen.” Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Did seeing Remy like that scare you?” Triana nodded. “You were in shock, sugar. That’s normal.”

That didn’t make Triana feel any better. “Maybe, but you should have seen the look on his face when I backed away from him, Mom. I really hurt him.” “Just because Remy is a werewolf, that doesn’t make him a monster. You know that, right?” Triana nodded. She’d known that last night too—deep down, anyway—but that still hadn’t stopped her from cringing away from him. She picked up her fork and played with her eggs again. “Was it hard to love Dad?” “You remember the part where I said his brooding drove me crazy, right?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “Honey, your father grew up on the streets, for all intents and purposes, on his own, and didn’t want anyone telling him how to run his life. I have to admit, I was stubborn too. There were a hundred times it could have all fallen apart, but it didn’t because we stuck to it and made it work. We weren’t perfect together, but we loved each other and recognized that we were better together than apart. And when you came along, we knew we’d done the right thing, because we were a family.” Triana thought about that for a while until an absolutely crazy thought struck her, something she’d hadn’t considered at all since discovering werewolves existed and that her father was one. “Since Dad was a werewolf, does that mean I’m going to be one too at some point? Is it hereditary, or is it passed through a bite, like in the movies?” She tensed as another thought struck her. “Oh crap, if Remy bit me anywhere while we were…you know…will that do it?”

Her mother shook her head. “A bite won’t do it, no matter how hard Remy might have nipped you. And while it might be hereditary, there are a lot of things that have to happen, at the right time and the right sequence, before a person can go through the first change.” “What kind of things?” she asked, curious despite herself. “From what I understand, a person has to have the werewolf gift inside him or her, then go through a horribly painful and traumatic experience. Usually something that nearly kills them,” her mother said. “If they survive, their body starts the change. As far as I can tell, while the gift itself might get passed on to a werewolf’s children, I’ve never seen it materialize in any of them, and I’ve talked to at least three dozen werewolves in my time.” Triana was still wrapping her head around that when her mom looked pointedly at her plate of uneaten eggs. “You aren’t hungry?” “I don’t have much of an appetite. I’m not feeling very well.” When her mother gave her a worried look, Triana added, “It’s not a big deal. I’ve been feeling under the weather lately. I’m probably just coming down with a cold from being out in the rain so much.” Her mother reached over to rest a hand on Triana’s forehead. “When did you start feeling like this?” “Since Wednesday night, maybe Thursday morning,” Triana said. “Why?” Her mom took her hand away with a sigh. “You’re not coming down with a cold, baby girl. What you’re feeling is the severing of the bond between you and Remy that you

mentioned earlier.” Triana shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense, Mom. Why would breaking up with him make me feel like this?” She’d broken up with guys before and never felt ill from it. Her mother gave her a small smile. “Because you might have something so much more special with Remy than you could ever have imagined. You could be The One for him, and vice versa.” The way her mom said the words made it seem significant, though Triana didn’t understand exactly how. “Legend has it that there’s one person in all the world for a werewolf who can accept him for what he is,” her mother continued softly. “For Remy, you’re that person.” It sounded so magical, so transcendent, so…romantic. “If that’s true, how could Remy walk away from what we had?” Her mother’s smile was sad. “Only Remy knows the answer to that, my dear.” Triana sighed. “Which is your way of saying I should find Remy and have that conversation about how we feel about each other, huh?” “It is,” her mom agreed. “If you want to be in his life, and you want him in yours, Triana, you need to fight for it. If you love him, don’t let him walk away or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Getting up, her mother pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then took Triana’s plate and walked over to the sink, leaving her to ponder how she was supposed to fight for a

man who had made it clear he wasn’t interested in falling in love again.

*** Triana was poking voodoo dolls with a pricing gun, wondering what effect the little plastic pieces might have on future victims of the dolls, when the tinkling bell above the shop door rang. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Remy. She knew it was him because she could feel him. She set down the pricing gun and slowly turned around. He stood just inside the doorway, looking as bad as she felt. His eyes had dark circles under them and his face was haggard. His uniform was dry though, at least. He gave Zane a nod, then looked at her. “Can we talk?” Zane pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against, using his finger to mark his place in the book of spells he’d been reading. “I’ll be outside.” “No, stay.” Triana glanced at Remy. “Let’s go for a walk. I’ve been cooped up in here all day.” While she loved her mother’s shop, in all honesty, she could use some air. Even though it had stopped raining, Triana grabbed her coat, slipping it on before walking out the door Remy held open for her. “Where to?” he asked. “Nowhere in particular,” she said. “Let’s just walk.” Between the cloudy night, light fog, and nearly empty streets, it felt like she and Remy had the city to themselves as they walked past Jackson Square and headed toward Woldenberg Park. She used to love going there with her

father when she was little to watch the street performers and jazz musicians, so it seemed somehow fitting she and Remy went there to talk. If nothing else, maybe her father’s spirit could give her some insight into the workings of a werewolf’s mind. Despite the decorative lamps along the paved walkway, darkness shrouded the area, but they managed to find a dry seat on one of the park benches. For a while, they both just sat there, gazing out at the Mississippi River, watching the water go past. Triana had so many thing she wanted to say, but she wasn’t quite sure how—or even where—to start. Beside her, Remy seemed to have the same problem. “I’m sorry I scared you last night,” he finally said. “I’m sorry I was scared.” She turned her head to look at him. “How did you become a werewolf?” Triana held her breath, afraid to hear the answer. Her mother had said people who became werewolves had gone through a traumatic event that triggered the change. Loving Remy meant loving all of him, and that included his werewolf side. So while she didn’t want to know what horrible thing had turned him into a werewolf, she needed to know. He started to speak, then cleared his throat and began again. “It happened when I was a marshal. Remember the other night when I told you I’d been involved with someone?” Triana really didn’t want to know about the other woman in Remy’s life, but she nodded. “The woman you said things didn’t work out with, right?”

“Yeah.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “The reason it didn’t work out is because I got her killed.” Whatever Triana had expected him to say, it wasn’t that. “What happened?” Remy stared out at the river as he told her how he and his partner/lover had tracked three escaped prisoners to a farmhouse in Idaho. To hear him tell it, his arrogance had not only been the thing that sent them into the place without backup or even a plan, but that had also gotten Jess killed and turned him into a werewolf. Triana’s first instinct was to point out that Remy wasn’t responsible for his partner’s death, that it had been the escaped convicts who killed her, not him. But she was sure other people had told him the same thing more than a few times. He still held himself accountable—maybe because he was the naturally heroic alpha her mother had told her about. He would always risk his life for others and always blame himself when he failed to save everyone. “It ate at me for a long time. It still does in a lot of ways, I guess,” Remy continued, hunching over to rest his forearms on his thighs and stare down at the ground. “For months after her death, I kept wondering why she wasn’t the one who turned into a werewolf instead of me. Why didn’t she live and I die?” Tears burned Triana’s eyes. This story would have been sad to hear anyone tell it, but listening to the man she loved recount it was pure torture. She moved closer, wrapping her arm around him. “I hated being a werewolf,” he said, his voice rough with

emotion. “Somehow, in my messed-up logic, it was the werewolf’s fault for changing me instead of Jess. So, to get my revenge on the beast, I started doing dangerous, outrageous stuff in an effort to get myself killed. I went after every bad guy on my own that I could find, but no matter what I did or how many times I got shot, the werewolf wouldn’t let me die.” The tears she’d been holding back ran down her face. The idea of a world without Remy in it was one she couldn’t bear to think about. “When the direct approach didn’t work, I started drinking —a lot,” Remy continued. “I couldn’t stand what I was, so I figured I’d drink the wolf into oblivion every night. People who know about the subject will tell you that a werewolf can’t get drunk because our bodies break down and eliminate toxins like alcohol faster than we can drink it.” He snorted. “It’s not something to brag about, but I disproved that particular piece of werewolf lore. We can get drunk; we just have to be committed to the task. Some guys walk into a bar and line up a bunch of shots, then knock them back one after the other. I did the same thing, except I’d line up full bottles of whiskey, then drain them one after the other until I was so drunk I couldn’t see straight.” The image of Remy doing that to himself brought another rush of tears to her eyes. “What made you stop drinking?” He turned his head to look at her, his mouth edging up at the corners. “Gage Dixon, the commander of the SWAT Team in Dallas and the alpha of my pack of alphas. He’d spent years tracking down werewolves who fit the mold of

what he was looking for in a SWAT officer and found me. Between trying to get myself killed in the Marshals and drinking myself to death, I wasn’t exactly the poster child for the Dallas PD, but Gage wanted me on the team anyway.” Remy had said the commander of the team was also the alpha of his pack—she assumed that meant he was the one in charge—which made her wonder how many werewolves beside Remy and his friends were in Dallas SWAT. But that was a question she could ask later. Right then, she was more interested in other things. “What did Gage say to convince you to leave the Marshals and join SWAT?” she asked quietly. Remy let out a short laugh. “It wasn’t what he said—at least right away. It was what he did.” “What did he do?” “He sat down on a barstool beside me and took away my last bottle of whiskey. I told him to go away and leave me alone, and when he didn’t, I got pissed and took a swing at him. One thing led to another, and we ended up getting in a fight and destroying the bar. There wasn’t a chair, table, or bottle that didn’t get smashed to hell by the time we were done.” Remy shook his head. “I’m not too proud to say that he kicked my ass. Then afterward, he told me something that forced me to take a step back and realize what a dumb-ass I’d been.” “What’s that?” “He asked me a simple question. If Jess had lived instead of me, would I want her to kill herself? His words were like

a punch in the gut because if things were reversed, I knew it was the last thing I’d want. I also knew it was the last thing Jess would want.” Sighing, Remy got up and walked over to stand near the railing. He gazed out at the water for a long time, saying nothing. Triana knew she should probably give him some space, but her mother’s words about fighting for him echoed in her head. How did one battle a ghost, though? Taking a deep breath, she stood and went over to stand beside him. Remy turned away from the railing to look at her, his eyes wet with unshed tears. The sight made her heart ache. The wind coming off the water whipped at her hair, and he reached out to gently push it back from her face. “I’m sorry about what I said at the restaurant the other night,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I never meant to hurt you.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. You may have moved on, but your heart stayed with a woman who died. I understand now why you can’t fall in love.” He shook his head, his expression suddenly earnest. “That’s not it. Yes, I was in love before, but that’s not why I pushed you away. I was afraid if I got involved with you, let myself fall for you, the same thing that happened to Jess would happen to you. When Lee kidnapped you in the same warehouse we raided, I told myself I’d been right.” Triana cupped his face in her hand. “That wasn’t your fault, Remy. I would have ended up going to that warehouse to track down my father’s killer whether we ran into each

other at that club the other night or not. You weren’t the reason I went there, and you certainly weren’t the reason Quinn grabbed me. If anything, I’m alive right now because we did run into each other. You saved my life, Remy.” “I know that now. Since Jess died, I’ve kept every woman at arm’s length until you. I told myself I was doing it to protect them, but I was really protecting myself. I didn’t want to go through that kind of pain again.” Remy’s mouth curved. “But while I cared deeply for Jess, what I have with you is different, Triana. More intense. When I saw you on the dance floor that first night here, it was like I found a part of my soul I didn’t even know was missing. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I feel so connected to you that sometimes I experience things you’re feeling, both physical and emotional. When you cut your finger the other night, I felt it. When Quinn knocked you unconscious in the warehouse, I felt it. When you were terrified Lee was going to kill your mother, I felt it. Last night, I felt your confusion and despair when you were upstairs with your mother. When you’re in a room, I can feel you nearby. It’s like you’re a part of me.” Triana’s pulse skipped a beat. “I can feel you, too.” He looked at her in surprise. “You can?” She nodded. “Uh-huh. At Lee’s house, I could feel you in the hallway outside the living room; then later at Mom’s place, I could feel you downstairs. And when you walked into the shop tonight, I knew it was you before I even turned around. This must be what Mom meant when she told me about The One.”

“She told you about that? What did she say?” “That every werewolf has one soul mate out there who can love and accept them for what they are,” she said. Remy took her hands in his. “Can you love me…knowing what I am?” Triana smiled up at him, tears of happiness filling her eyes this time. “I already do, Remy. I think I loved you from the moment I turned around and saw you on that dance floor. Discovering you’re a werewolf kind of shocked me, I admit, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Nothing could do that.” It had taken her all night and most of the day to come to that conclusion, but underneath the claws and fangs, he was still the guy she’d crushed on all through high school, the guy she was in love with now. He grinned, letting out a sigh of relief. “You wouldn’t believe how good it is to hear you say those words. Even though I’m terrified of putting you in danger by loving you, I can’t stop the way I feel. I love you, Triana. I think I have since freshman year of high school.” Cupping her face in his hand, he bent his head and kissed her. Triana glided her hands up the front of his shirt, one gripping his shoulder while the other found its way into his hair. Remy wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her tightly against him and making her wish they’d gone somewhere more private to have this conversation than a very public park. Then she remembered his hotel was only a short walk from the park. She was about to remind Remy of that when he stumbled

against her, almost making her fall. He lifted his head with a growl, his eyes flashing yellow as the tips of his upper canines extended. “What the hell?” he muttered. The sight of his fangs almost made her pull away, but she resisted the urge. She wasn’t doing that to Remy ever again. “What’s wrong?” she asked. He didn’t answer but instead twisted around, reaching behind him with one hand as he looked over his shoulder. She gasped at the sight of the two darts the size of jumbo Magic Markers sticking out of his back. Her blood ran cold. Oh God. Those were tranquilizer darts, just like the ones used on her father. As she watched, another heavy dart slammed into Remy’s back, shoving him forward and almost sending him to his knees. “Pull them out,” he growled when he couldn’t reach them himself. Cursing herself for standing there like an idiot, Triana grabbed one and tugged, but it was stuck. “It’s too deep,” she said. “If I yank any harder, I’m going to hurt you.” The growl he let out this time was closer to a roar, and she stared wide-eyed as his fangs extended farther. “It hurts already. Rip them out!” Heart pounding, Triana wrapped her hand around the one closest to his shoulder and pulled hard. The end of the needle was barbed like a harpoon, ripping his skin and leaving a bloody, gaping wound in its wake. The sight of it was enough to make her feel sick. “Do the same to the others,” he ground out, his face

contorted in pain. She yanked the other two darts out as fast as she could, tossing them on the ground. Her stomach plummeted as she realized they were empty. She remembered Quinn telling her the hunters had used tranquilizer drugs to slow down her father for the kill shot. They had to get out of here—now. She opened her mouth to warn Remy, but he’d already grabbed her hand and was running toward the parking lot near Café du Monde. They didn’t get more than ten feet before two more darts slammed into Remy, one in his lower back, the other in the thick muscles of his upper left thigh. Crap. Without being prompted, Triana immediately pulled the one out of his back while he did the same to the dart in his leg. It didn’t matter though, because both were already empty. Remy took her hand again and dragged her across the train tracks toward the parking lot. On the far side of the street, she could see a few patrons and waitstaff moving around inside the café. Once she and Remy reached it, they would be safe. They were almost there when Remy suddenly slowed, then stumbled, the yellow glow dimming from his eyes. Whatever drugs had been in those darts was taking effect. “Come on!” she urged. “We just have to make it across the street.” Remy growled and nodded, shambling forward. Triana tugged on his hand, fearing another dart—or worse —would come at him any second. But they were moving too slowly. They weren’t going to make it across the

parking lot, much less all the way across the street to the café. “Help me!” she shouted, waving her free arm wildly in the air, hoping someone would see them. She was so focused on the people across the street she didn’t see the van careering through the parking lot until it screeched to a stop in front of them. For half a second she thought whoever was inside was there to help, but then the side door slid open and she saw men with guns. Remy lunged at them with a savage growl, but the guns popped a few times and he immediately went down. “Remy!” Triana tried to keep him from falling, but he was too heavy for her, and she couldn’t keep him from tumbling all the way to the pavement. Then she saw a dark stain spread across the front of his shirt. She’d thought the men had dart guns, but they’d been pistols with silencers. Three men jumped out of the van, rushing at her and Remy. She tried to shove them away, but one of the men got his arms around her from behind and tossed her in the van. A moment later, the other two flung Remy in beside her. With the amount of blood he’d already lost, there was no way he could still be alive. The thought that he might already be dead tore her heart in two. All she could do was pray the werewolf who’d refused to let Remy die so many times before would allow him to survive now. The side door slammed and the vehicle took off with a squeal of tires, throwing Triana toward the back of the van. Rough hands caught her and jerked her to her knees. She

turned, ready to take a swing at whomever it was. Her eyes went wide when she saw Quinn. He blocked her fist with his hand. “Well, shit, girl. Long time no see.” Triana screamed and launched herself at him. She’d rip him to pieces with her fingernails if she had to. But he only grinned and caught her by the throat like she was a toy, slamming her head against the inside wall of the van. Stars exploded in her vision and her body went limp as she collapsed to the floor beside Remy. Oh God, not again. The last thing Triana heard before losing consciousness was Quinn’s arrogant laugh.

Chapter 19 Remy knew he was still alive because his head was pounding like a drum. He stifled a groan, grimacing at the pain. Shit, his mouth tasted like he’d been eating dirt. He took a breath—or tried to, anyway. Damn, he could barely breathe. Or move. What the hell was wrapped around him? As he fought to open his eyes, memories rushed back— being in the park with Triana, kissing her, getting shot with frigging tranquilizer darts, and running. Then a van screeching to a stop…and men with guns. They’d shot him and grabbed Triana. The image of Quinn knocking her unconscious snapped Remy out of the haze he’d been trapped in. Lifting his head, he lunged forward. He didn’t make it very far. Actually, he didn’t make it anywhere. With a growl, he looked down and saw a heavy chain wrapped around his bare chest and arms, not only binding him, but also holding him off the floor so he was barely touching the metal decking beneath him. He glanced up to

see the chain disappearing into the darkness above him, when he heard someone laugh. “Looks like someone just figured out how fucked he really is.” Quinn’s amused voice echoed in the ship’s cargo hold. Based on the familiar scent, it was the same vessel Remy and his pack mates had searched on that raid earlier in the week. Remy looked over to see Quinn standing to one side in the near darkness of the ship’s hold. Aaron Lee was beside him, his arms crossed, a curious expression on his face. Behind him were two more of his goons that Remy vaguely remembered from the shoot-out at the front gate of Lee’s home. He paid little attention to the men. The only person he cared about was Triana. She was sitting on a pallet of bags filled with grain half a dozen feet away. Remy’s heart almost stopped when he saw that she was alive. Then he smelled the blood, saw it streaked through her hair and staining the left shoulder of her rain jacket. He growled long and low. He was going to enjoy killing every single one of these men. Remy searched her face, looking for any other signs of further injury, but all he saw was a mix of relief and concern in her beautiful blue-gray eyes. “Amazing,” Lee said, moving closer to study his chest. Or more precisely, the two bullet wounds that should have been fatal but had instead closed over already. “I knew Rufus had taken a bullet in the chest before, but I never dreamed a

werewolf could recover so quickly from such an injury.” Letting out another growl, Remy lifted his legs and kicked out at Lee’s head. The older man quickly backpedaled. Not that it mattered. The angle had been all wrong anyway. If not, the son of a bitch would have been eating through a straw for a few months—if Remy didn’t kill him first. Lee glared at him for a moment, then nodded at Quinn. Lee’s enforcer grabbed Triana by the arm and jerked her to her feet. Remy snarled, straining against the chains holding him, but the frigging things didn’t so much as creak. Smirking, Quinn pulled out a hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and pressed the blade to Triana’s neck. “Try something like that again, and I’ll have him slit her throat,” Lee warned. Remy stilled. He had no idea what Lee had planned, but he was going to have to bide his time until he could figure out how to get out of these damn chains. He didn’t know how he was going to do that, but he swore he would. And when he did, the only issue would be which one of the men died first. Lee stepped closer again, and this time Remy was forced to let him. The man examined the wounds on his chest before going around to do the same to the ones on his back. Remy didn’t point out that the healing wouldn’t be nearly as impressive if either of the bullets were still inside him. A werewolf’s body couldn’t heal itself properly if foreign material was still in the wound. The outer skin would still close over in an instinctive attempt to keep from bleeding out, but the soft tissue and bones would never reknit,

resulting in a hell of a lot of pain. “You’ve lived a very violent life, I see,” Lee said as he finished a complete circuit and came to stand in front of Remy again. “You’ve been shot, what? A dozen times?” “Something like that,” Remy ground out, wondering once again where the hell this was going. Lee leveled his gaze at him. “You’re going to turn me into a werewolf, or I will do things to your woman that you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmare.” Remy stared at him, stunned into silence. His heart dropped into his stomach. Lee would kill him and Triana the moment he figured out Remy couldn’t do what he wanted. Shit. He was trying to come up with something he could say to Lee to either delay what was about to happen or, better yet, turn the tables on the madman, when Triana interrupted him. “It’s a curse,” she said quietly. “In his blood.” Remy gave her a sharp look, wondering what Triana was doing. Quinn was still holding on to her, the knife dangerously close to her neck. But she didn’t look at Remy. Instead, her gaze was fixed on Lee. “A curse?” Lee laughed. “Now I know you’re full of shit. I don’t believe in any of that crap.” “You don’t believe in them, yet you’re okay with a man becoming a werewolf?” she said. “Why do you think he and my father came to the voodoo shop in the first place? They came because they wanted a way to break the curse.” Lee regarded Triana suspiciously for a moment before pinning Remy with a look. “Is this true?”

Remy still wasn’t sure what Triana’s plan was, but at least she seemed to have one, so he went with it. “Yes. I didn’t know what was happening to me or even what I was. I thought Triana’s mother could help me.” Lee turned to Triana again. “You said it’s in his blood. If I inject myself with it, will it turn me into a werewolf?” “No,” she said. “The only way a werewolf can turn a person is to bite them.” Lee paled, and for the first time, Remy heard the man’s heart beat a little faster. He shook his head. “There has to be another way.” “There isn’t,” Triana insisted. “The curse has to be passed through a bite, just like in the movies.” Lee considered that for a moment, then jabbed a finger at her. “You’d better not be lying to me, or you’re dead.” Triana didn’t flinch. “You might want to rethink that, since you’ll need my help to survive the change. Especially if he has to bite you more than once.” Lee’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying that to save your neck. And his. Why the hell would he need to bite me more than once?” “This isn’t science, you know,” she shot back. “It’s voodoo magic. If you want to be a werewolf, you’re going to have to keep both of us around.” Remy finally realized what Triana was doing, and he had to admit, it was brilliant. She’d created a situation where Lee couldn’t kill either of them, not if he wanted to become a werewolf. As inspired as the deception was, Remy was even more

impressed with how convincing Triana sounded. For a woman who’d told him several times she didn’t buy any of this magic stuff, she was doing one hell of a good job selling herself as a voodoo priestess. Even though Remy knew how werewolves worked, he liked Triana’s version better. Lee looked at the two other men in the hold. “Get me something to stand on.” When they brought over a wooden crate, Lee stepped up on it and rolled the sleeve of his dress shirt to his elbow, exposing his forearm. “Go ahead and bite me. And when I say let go, you’d better do it or Quinn will take great pleasure in scooping an eye right out of her pretty head.” Remy only growled in answer. He was tempted to suggest a bite to the neck would work better, but he doubted he’d get Lee to go along with that. He had no idea what was going to happen after he bit Lee, but he prayed Triana had something in that clever head of hers that would get him out of these chains. Lee glanced at the two men who’d brought over the crate. “Be ready to shoot him if he doesn’t let go.” He shoved his arm in front of Remy’s face. “Well, get on with it.” Remy eyed Lee for a long moment, then opened his mouth, letting his fangs slowly extend to their full length of an inch and a half. Lee went as pale as a ghost at the sight, but Remy didn’t give him time to change his mind. He clamped his teeth down on Lee’s forearm so hard he hit bone. He’d never bitten a person before, but then again, up until now, he’d never had a desire to. Sinking his teeth into

Lee was satisfying as hell, though. The wolf inside wanted out to tear the asshole to pieces. Remy ignored Lee’s order to stop, immersed in the feeling of a rippling sensation spreading over his body as every muscle spasmed. He had no idea why it was happening, but he was shifting. The only other time he’d managed a full shift, it had hurt like a son of a bitch. This time…not so much. Little by little, the chains around his chest loosened. “I said, let the fuck go!” Lee shouted, punching him. Remy would have ignored him, but then he heard Triana whimper in pain and knew he couldn’t do anything to risk Quinn hurting her. He retracted his fangs and pulled away, resisting the urge to rip Lee’s forearm off. Lee stumbled off the boxes and over to Triana, holding his bloody arm out to her. “Is this deep enough? You’d better tell me it is because it hurt like hell.” Triana looked at the wound. “I think so. We’ll only know for sure if you change.” “When will that be?” he demanded, wrapping his other hand around his arm, trying to stanch the flow of blood. “It could be a few minutes or a few hours,” she said. “I don’t know.” “You’d better not be lying to me.” Lee cursed. “Someone get me something to stop the bleeding, and hurry the hell up!” Remy only half listened as Lee rambled on about how much his arm frigging hurt. He was too busy trying to breathe through the muscle spasms making his whole body

shiver. Luckily, Lee’s men were so focused on bandaging his arm they didn’t notice the chains around Remy’s chest slip another inch as his torso tried to morph into its new shape. If he kept shifting, there was a good chance he’d be able to scramble his way out at some point. Keep distracting them a little while longer, Triana. He felt the bizarre sensation of fur slowly sprouting on his back, when the sound of gunfire erupted from somewhere outside the ship. “What the hell is that?” Lee demanded at the same time one of his men yanked out his cell phone and shoved it to his ear. The man listened for a moment, then his eyes widened. “It’s the cops,” he told Lee as he hung up. “There are at least a half-dozen of them. Looks like SWAT.” Lee cursed. “Quinn, bring her.” He turned to the other two men. “You come with us,” he said to one of them, then looked at the other. “You shoot him in the head.” The bastard didn’t hang around to see if everyone followed orders, but instead ran for the exit. Triana screamed, fighting against Quinn even as Remy struggled against the chain binding him. When it held fast, Remy struggled harder, but that only served to slow down his body’s transformation. He growled in frustration. It took every ounce of willpower to force himself to relax and let his body finish shifting while Quinn wrapped his arms around a struggling Triana and carried her up the metal stairs at the far end of the cargo hold. Remy hadn’t realized how far his face had shifted until the

man Lee had ordered to kill him stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in fear. He lifted his pistol, trying to aim, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t hold the thing steady. Remy took advantage of that, lunging at the guy with a ferocious snarl. Scared shitless, the man backpedaled and squeezed the trigger. The bullet zipped past Remy and ricocheted around the hold a few times before thumping into something behind him. While the man stood there in shock, Remy’s shoulders cracked and popped as he shifted further. A few more seconds and he would be free. Abruptly, the sensation of Triana moving farther away hit him. This is taking too long, dammit. No matter how terrified Lee’s henchman might be, at some point he’d get his act together and put a bullet through Remy’s head. As if reading Remy’s mind, the man squared his shoulders and came closer, pointing the suddenly much steadier weapon right at his forehead. With his feet on the floor now, Remy wasn’t nearly as defenseless as he looked. He brought his right leg up, catching the man’s arm with his booted foot and sending the pistol flying. The man was so busy trying to see where the weapon went he never saw Remy’s boot come up again and catch him under the jaw. Remy slipped out of the hoist chain and hit the floor at the same time Lee’s goon did. He immediately jumped to his feet, ready to go at the guy again, but the man was out cold. Turning, Remy headed for the stairs, but barely made it

two steps before his legs gave out as the wolf completely took over his body. Remy wasn’t sure if it was the urgent need to go after Triana, or if he was simply more accepting of the transformation this time. Either way, the full shift came fast, bones breaking and reforming, muscles tearing and reshaping to cover a new, sleeker shape. Getting out of his pants proved to be a challenge since wolves didn’t have opposable thumbs, and he was forced to roll around on the floor like a drunk puppy to get out of the things. Luckily, his boots and socks just fell off. Finally free, Remy raced for the stairs, amazed at the acceleration he was able to get out of this four-wheel-drive version of his body. Then he hit the steps and nearly broke his frigging neck as his legs went out from under him. It was a lot easier to speed up in this body than it was to slow down, but he got his long legs back under him and scrambled up the stairs, through the serpentine maze of corridors and out onto the deck. Triana was already in a car speeding away from the dock by the time Remy got topside. Ignoring the shoot-out between Lee’s men on the deck of the ship and his pack mates on the shore, he headed for the gangway, slamming into anyone who got in his way. His presence freaked the hell out of Lee’s men, and several of them jumped overboard to avoid him. Remy leaped off the gangway and headed for Chartres Street, veering east as he quickly covered ground. He wasn’t following any of his usual senses because he couldn’t see

where they were taking Triana and he couldn’t smell her. But the connection he had to her told him he was headed toward her. A wolf of any size running down the middle of New Orleans was sure to gain attention. A wolf his size was going to make people lose their minds. But he couldn’t do anything about it. He only hoped the darkness and the rain would keep people off the streets. He’d just turned and headed toward the bridge that would take him to the Lower Ninth Ward when his ears picked up a quiet rapid-fire thumping sound. He turned his head to see what the hell was coming up behind him when he smelled Cooper. A moment later, the team’s demo expert—also in his wolf form—raced up beside him. Remy would have thanked his pack mate for the backup if he could speak. But since he couldn’t, he concentrated on catching up to the car taking Triana farther and farther away from him.

*** Triana gripped the door handle with one hand and the seat belt strap with the other, holding on for dear life as the big Cadillac swerved around the vehicle in front of them and almost slammed into the side railing of the bridge over the Industrial Canal. “Slow the hell down,” Lee shouted from the front seat as he bounced off the door. “There’s no one behind us. We’re fine.” The man driving didn’t seem so sure of that, but as they

came off the bridge into the Lower Ninth Ward, he slowed down a bit. He still kept checking the rearview mirror every five seconds though. “Stay on Forty-Six until it crosses Thirty-Nine,” Quinn said casually from his place in the backseat beside her. The jerk had gone out of his way to cozy up close to her from the moment he’d thrown her in the backseat at the dock. Triana had tried to push him away more than once, but all he did was laugh and move next to her again. “There’s a yacht waiting for us in slip eighteen,” he told the driver. “We’ll be in the Gulf and beyond the reach of the police an hour after we get on board.” Triana’s stomach clenched. The thought of being trapped on a boat with these men, especially Quinn, for any length of time terrified her. But that wasn’t going to happen. Somehow, some way, Remy was going to find her before it was too late. She’d almost lost that hope when she heard the gunshot down in the hold of the ship when Quinn had been dragging her away. She’d thought for sure Remy was dead. He was strung up on a chain, unable to move more than an inch or two, so there was no way he could avoid a bullet. And yet something inside her refused to believe Remy was dead. She would have felt it if he were. She knew it in her heart. So, until she knew otherwise, she was going to believe Remy was still alive and coming after her. In the front seat, Lee cursed. Twisting in his seat to look at her, he held up his arm. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage he’d wrapped around it. “My arm still

hurts as much as it did when that mutt first bit me. When will the pain stop?” Hopefully never, Triana wanted to say but didn’t. She had to keep Lee believing all the crap she’d been telling him about becoming a werewolf until Remy showed up. “Soon,” she said. “The pain is a good sign. It means the change is already happening.” Lee studied her for a moment like he was trying to figure out if she was lying to him. He must have decided she wasn’t because he nodded and turned back around in his seat, a small smile on his face. Triana was still shocked she’d been able to talk Lee into letting Remy bite him. She’d been playing for time when she’d started the whole werewolf story, praying she could delay things long enough for Remy to get loose. She never dreamed Lee would agree. He must have been even more desperate for power than she thought. She was scooting closer to the door when she felt Remy somewhere nearby. A split second later, she caught a blur of movement in the darkness to the right of the car. Pulse racing, she turned her head to look out the window as something slammed into the front passenger door so hard the window shattered. The big car rocked on its suspension, one side of the vehicle nearly coming up off the road. Crap, it was like they’d been hit with a wrecking ball. The driver swerved the car away from the impact, crossing over a narrow, grassy median and into the double lane of oncoming traffic before ending up on a side street, taking them deeper into the Ninth Ward.

“What the hell was that?” Quinn shouted. He pulled a large pistol from behind his back, waving it around like he thought whatever hit the car was going to join them in it any second. Triana didn’t have a clue what was happening, but she knew it had something to do with Remy. She could feel him out there. In the front seat, Lee was brushing glass off his clothes and telling the driver to get the hell back on the highway. But the streets were a little tighter in this part of town, forcing the man to slow down as he looked for a place to turn around. The Ninth Ward had been the section of the city hit the hardest during Katrina. Some of the structures had been rebuilt, but there were still a lot of abandoned and overgrown homes too. It was hard to see this part of town and not realize that a lot of people had never recovered from the storm. Triana peered out the side window, looking for Remy, when the window in the driver’s side door suddenly shattered. The next thing she knew, the driver was gone, getting ripped out of the car and disappearing into the darkness with a scream. Quinn cursed and threw himself over the front seat, lunging for the wheel, but it was too late. Triana ducked as the front of the Cadillac plowed into an overgrown wall surrounding a dilapidated house. The car hit the brick wall doing at least thirty miles an hour and the impact was loud and violent. Thank God she’d taken the time to put on her seat belt or she would have joined Quinn and Lee in the front seat.

The vehicle ended up perched on the remains of the wall, the front tires off the ground. Triana didn’t wait to see if Quinn and Lee were alive. She popped her seat belt, opened the door, and scrambled out. She didn’t get more than a few feet before Quinn caught up with her. He wrapped an arm around her neck, yanking her against his chest as he backed away from the car toward the house. His breath was loud in her ear as he pointed his gun in every direction at once. The area didn’t have a lot of streetlamps and the rain was only making it worse. If it wasn’t for the car’s headlights, they’d have had a hard time seeing anything. Lee joined them a moment later, pulling his pistol out as he squinted into the darkness, trying to see down the street. Triana turned her head to see a man lying there. It might have been the driver of the car, but it was hard to tell at this distance. He wasn’t moving though, that much she was sure of. Suddenly, an animal darted across the street. It was big and fast—much too big and too fast to be a dog. Another animal followed the first, this one just as big. Whatever they were, there were two of them. As the animals slowly came out from behind the building they’d been behind, Triana realized they were wolves. The biggest wolves she’d ever seen in her life. If they’d been standing beside her, their withers would have been level with her hips. Triana’s breath hitched as the wolves’ glowing yellow eyes pierced the darkness. One of them was Remy. She didn’t

know how that was possible, but she instinctively knew it was him. Eyes fixed on her and the two men, Remy and the other wolf slowly moved toward them, baring their teeth in fierce snarls. Muttering a curse, Lee turned and ran toward the house behind them, shouting at Quinn to follow. Quinn hesitated for a moment, seemingly torn between shooting at the wolves and retreating. He must have decided discretion was the better part of valor because he lowered his weapon and dragged her toward the dilapidated structure. When they reached the vine-covered porch, Lee was trying to yank off the boards covering the door. “Kick in the door,” Lee ordered Quinn, grabbing Triana, keeping her in front of him like a shield as he shoved his gun to her head. “You can’t kill me now that I’m one of you!” he shouted into the night. “If you try to come in here, I’ll execute her right in front of you. Her death will be on you, not me.” There was a loud crack behind them as Quinn ripped off the boards and tossed them aside. Lee shoved her at his enforcer, who immediately caught her and dragged her into the house. Lee hesitated in the doorway, looking out at the dark street. The asshole never saw the wolf come at him from the side. One moment Lee was standing there, and the next he was flying off the porch. Quinn shoved Triana outside, scrambling around as he looked for his boss, but there was no sign of Lee.

Somewhere in the yard, Remy and the other wolf howled. Muttering under his breath, Quinn quickly dragged Triana into the house again. In the glow from the car’s headlights, she could see that they were in someone’s old living room. It smelled like mold, mildew, and rot. Triana struggled against Quinn, but it was worse than useless. He was simply too strong for her. He didn’t stop pulling her across the room until he had his back up against the far wall. “Come in here and I’ll shoot her!” Quinn yelled, his voice laced with fear. “And after I kill her, I’ll do the two of you next. I know how to kill monsters.” There was a low growl at the door as a pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared. There was enough light from the car to see the wolf clearly now. He was even bigger than she realized, lithe, muscular, and graceful. His fur was mostly gray with shades of brown and what could almost be called blond mixed in. Even if his eyes didn’t give him away, Triana still would have known it was Remy. He was beautiful. Before Triana realized what was happening, Quinn aimed his gun in Remy’s direction and fired. Triana screamed, but the sound died in her throat as she realized Remy was nowhere in sight. In the time it had taken Quinn to point the weapon and pull the trigger, Remy had darted off. A moment later, he was back in the doorway, teeth bared in a fierce snarl. “Stay back!” Quinn warned, pointing the weapon at her now. “I’ll do it. I’ll pop her right in the head!”

Triana heard the growl behind the partially intact wall in back of them before Quinn did. Realizing the second wolf was there, he turned his pistol in that direction. As Quinn moved, his hold on Triana slipped. Remy’s words from the other day echoed in her head. If you only have one chance to hit a person—and it’s life or death— aim for the throat and punch as hard as you can. Balling her hand into a fist, she spun around and aimed for Quinn’s throat, punching him hard enough for her to feel it all the way through her wrist and up into her arm. Quinn staggered back with a weird gurgling sound. Sensing more than seeing Remy move, Triana jumped out of the way. She hit the floor at the same time Remy smashed into Quinn, knocking him though the wall. There was a gunshot, then lots of snarling and growling mixed in with a few cries of pain. Triana was glad it was too dark to see anything in the other room, but she knew what was happening. After the part Quinn had played in her father’s death, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel sorry for him. It couldn’t have been any more than thirty seconds later before Remy bounded out of the hole he and Quinn had made in the wall. He stopped when he saw her standing there, his whole body displaying how hesitant he was to approach her. Smiling, Triana stood and moved to meet him halfway. Then she dropped to her knees and held out her arms. He was there immediately, his head towering over hers, his huge muzzle sniffing softly around the scalp wound that

she’d gotten when Quinn had slammed her head into the wall of the van earlier. She’d almost forgotten about it. “I’m fine,” she said, almost laughing as he chuffed and continued to sniff at her head. “Are you okay?” She ran her hands along the thick fur of his withers and sides. “You didn’t get shot, did you?” He chuffed again in answer. Triana sighed. This part was going to be tough. She was obviously going to need to brush up on her wolf sounds. Not having any other way to know for sure, she ran her hands all over Remy’s body. He was huge, so it took a little while, not that he seemed to mind the attention. When she was satisfied he hadn’t been wounded, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “I didn’t know you could do this.” He sat down and chuffed again. She laughed. “You’re absolutely beautiful like this, but do you think you could turn back, so I can actually talk to you?” An expression that looked like concern crossed Remy’s furry face, but then the second wolf padded out of the other room to stand beside him. Remy visibly relaxed as the second wolf—he was the same size but with darker brown fur mixed with gray—lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. Remy did the same. Triana watched, fascinated, as the muscles under their fur began to twitch and spasm. Then it got a little weird as their fur started to disappear. Okay…a lot weird. But as a curious science nerd, she couldn’t look away, even when the bones

under all those muscles started to change shape. Besides, this was Remy, the man she loved. There was no way she was going to look away. Until they were done shifting back into their human form and she realized they were both naked as the day they were born. She certainly had no problem looking at Remy like that, but seeing some guy she’d never met before was… strange. As she stood up and turned her back to give the man some privacy, she had to admit her mother had been right—alpha werewolves were certainly hunky. Triana felt Remy’s presence behind her even before he turned her around and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly as she kissed him back. Then she pulled away a little to take a closer look at the two bullet wounds on his chest. She could still see them, but they were completely closed over. She hugged him again, never wanting to let him go. But after a while, she heard the other man clear his throat. Remy chuckled. “Triana, this is Cooper. He’s one of the werewolves in my pack.” Triana went through the most unusual handshake ritual of her life with a naked guy who’d moments before been a wolf. She suddenly knew how guys felt when they met a woman. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. “It’s nice to meet you,” Cooper said with a quirky grin that suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I hate to interrupt the reunion, but we need to get out of here.

The gunshots and that wrecked Caddy are going to attract attention sooner or later, and we don’t want to be here when the police show up because that”—he gestured at the other room—“is going to be damn hard to explain.” Crap. Triana hadn’t thought of that. She grabbed Remy’s hand and started for the door. They obviously weren’t leaving in Lee’s car, so that meant walking. Then the problem with that idea hit her. She stopped and turned to look at them. “You guys didn’t bring clothes with you, did you?” They both shook their heads. Of course not. “Then we might be in trouble because I don’t have my purse or cell phone, and you can’t go out there naked.” Remy and Cooper exchanged looks. “This is New Orleans, darlin’.” Remy’s mouth twitched. “I doubt anyone will even notice. Besides, it’s dark out.” Triana felt her jaw drop as Remy gave her hand a tug and started for the door, Cooper in tow. Crap. They weren’t really doing this, were they? Well, this was probably going to be interesting. Then again, something told her everything in her life would be more interesting now that Remy was in it.

Chapter 20 Triana sat at the picnic table beside Cooper’s wife, Everly, watching Remy and the other members of the Pack on the volleyball court as they kicked up sand and laughed like a bunch of kids. Running around without a shirt, sweat glistening on that perfect body of his, Remy looked good enough to eat. She had to admit she appreciated some of the other guys out there too, particularly the ones displaying that wolf head tattoo on the left side of their chests. They weren’t Remy, but they were fine. “If the Pack gets any larger,” Everly remarked, pushing back her long hair, “I think we’re going to need a bigger volleyball court. Between the SWAT guys, Jayna’s pack, my brother, and the new betas, the place is getting crowded.” Triana laughed. Everly was quickly becoming her closest friend in Dallas. The other woman seemed so comfortable talking about werewolves, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Triana, on the other hand, sometimes still had to pinch herself as a reminder she wasn’t dreaming and really did live in a world where werewolves existed.

Thinking about it now, it was hard not laughing at the crazy notions she used to have. She thought she knew everything about how the world worked, but it turned out she was still learning. Fortunately, there were a lot of people around to teach her what she needed to know. In addition to Everly, there were the other wives and girlfriends, as well as Khaki Blake, the female alpha she’d heard so much about. Then there was the Pack doctor. She’d spent hours talking to Dr. Saunders about werewolves. While she’d been surprised the Pack had a primary care provider, she was glad to finally have someone she could talk to about werewolves in a language she understood. As for Dr. Saunders, he was stoked at the thought of being able to do a DNA profile of the daughter of a known werewolf. The possibilities of what they could learn seemed endless. A familiar laugh by the grill interrupted her musings, and Triana looked over to see her mother shaking her head as a shirtless Max leaned in and tasted the jambalaya they were making. Her mom was in town for the week, visiting and getting to know Remy’s extended family—the Pack. It had been a crazy three weeks since she and Remy had gotten together. In every possible way, her whole life had changed that night in New Orleans when she admitted her love for the charming werewolf. Since then, she’d quit her job in Houston, packed up everything she owned, moved in with Remy, applied for and got a new job with the Dallas ME’s office, and become a member of the Pack. She’d never

been happier in her life. Remy had asked her to move to Dallas the same night he’d rescued her from Quinn and Lee. Since she’d already decided she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, it only made sense to start by moving in with him. The thought of asking him to leave his pack after what she’d seen Cooper and the other guys do for him was out of the question. She, Remy, and Cooper had only walked a couple of blocks that night in the Lower Ninth Ward before Brooks had pulled up beside them in an NOPD vehicle, as if picking up naked pack mates out for a stroll was a common occurrence for him. She had no clue how the other werewolf had known where they were, but she hadn’t been about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She and the guys had climbed in and gone back to the dock to grab Remy’s and Cooper’s clothes. The driver of the Cadillac must have survived getting yanked out of the moving vehicle because he wasn’t on the street when she and the guys walked out of the house. As for Lee and Quinn, no one had found their bodies for two days. By the time someone finally stumbled over them, rats had gotten to them and made a mess of everything. The police seemed to think one of Lee’s enemies had killed them and promptly shelved the investigation. After seeing how quickly her father’s murder had been shoved to the back burner, Triana wasn’t surprised. No one really cared who’d killed Quinn and Lee. Everyone was simply glad they were gone.

Triana would have felt a lot better about how things ended if they’d been able to come up with information about the hunters who had actually murdered her father. But at the moment, all they knew about the elusive hunters was that they were dangerous, liked to kill werewolves, and were getting more aggressive. A few days after she’d left her job in Houston, her friend from the lab there had called saying she’d found an alarming number of murder victims—twenty-two in a period of two years—that had come back with animal tranquilizers in their systems. And those were just the ones who had been found. Her friend said there was a good chance the number was double or triple that since there were a lot of cities and towns that wouldn’t bother with a full toxicology screening on someone who’d obviously been shot to death. Her friend thought there was a good chance the FBI had taken notice of these murders and were looking at the situation as a potential serial killer case. The only thing that seemed to have them hesitating was the complete lack of connection between the victims. The murders had occurred all across the country and the victims had come from every walk of life. They’d been farmers, teachers, stay-at-home mothers, college students, military veterans, even a firefighter. When Triana mentioned her father had been killed in the same way, her friend had sent her copies of everything she’d collected. Triana and Remy had spent hours poring over the files with the other members of the Pack. There was no way to know if all the people who’d been killed were

werewolves, but the fact that every single victim had been shot in the head seemed to support that conclusion. That being the case, they had to face the extreme possibility there was a large group of hunters out there doing everything they could to track down werewolves and kill them. Triana was still thinking about what that meant for her and her new friends when the game broke up. Remy, her mother, and several other members of the Pack, including Brooks and Cooper, joined her and Everly at the table while the rest crowded around Max over by the grill. The Pack’s two adorable mascots—a pit bull mix named Tuffie and a lab mix named Leo—walked around and made puppy eyes at everyone, begging for something of their own. Based on how much they got, it was obvious they were very good at it. Remy slipped a hand around her waist and grazed his warm lips across the skin of her neck, making her shiver. On the other side of the table, her mother smiled fondly at them. While the subject hadn’t come up yet, Triana knew her mom was already thinking about whom to invite to their wedding. She was about to ask Remy what had ended the game so soon when she saw Gage Dixon—the Pack alpha—and his wife, Mackenzie, talking to some new arrivals to the party. Their group consisted of three women, a guy, and a little girl who couldn’t have been any more than four. “Who’s that?” she asked curiously. “It’s a beta pack,” her mother said. Remy looked at her mother in surprise. “Okay, I can smell

they’re werewolves, and I assumed they were betas from the size. How did you know?” Her mom shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I’ve been around werewolves since I was a teenager, so I seem to recognize them when I see them. The same way you know someone has blond hair or blue eyes, I suppose.” Triana shook her head, both amazed at what her mother was able to do and by the appearance of another beta pack at the compound. “That’s the third group of betas that has shown up here in the past two weeks,” Zane remarked as he sat down with a plate of ribs and a bowl of jambalaya. “Counting the omegas who have moved into the area, there must be close to twenty new werewolves in the city.” Her mother’s gaze once again drifted to the group talking to Gage, but this time worry creased her brow. “They’re trying to get close to your alpha pack for protection.” “That’s a good thing, right?” Triana asked. “Strength in numbers and all.” At the next table over, Brooks nodded. “Definitely. There’s no way hunters would come after a pack this size.” “You don’t think so?” her mother asked, turning to look at the SWAT werewolf. “Haven’t you stopped to wonder why all these other werewolves have started showing up now? Why so many members of your pack have been finding their soul mates all of a sudden? Why some of your pack, including Remy, are learning how to fully shift into a wolf when the need arises?” Beside Everly, Cooper frowned. “Are you saying that each

of us finding The One wasn’t just random chance?” Her mom shook her head. “I don’t think so. Most werewolves consider the legend of The One to be just that —a legend. That’s because it usually only happens once in a generation, if that. To have it happen this many times in one pack should be impossible.” “But it is happening,” Remy pointed out. Her mother nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is. Sometimes, when a pack is in danger, it will do things to protect itself, such as other werewolves joining or members finding their mates. Not necessarily soul mates, but mates who will make the pack stronger. That’s what’s happening now, only more extreme.” She sighed. “In addition to betas and omegas joining your pack, more of you are learning how to shift completely into wolves. Not only are you finding soul mates, but each of you are finding The One as well. All of that means there’s a major threat to the Pack, one so extreme that even a pack of this many alphas may not be able to handle it.” Silence descended on the group, worry reflected in everyone’s eyes. Triana’s stomach clenched. She’d lost her father to these damn hunters. She refused to even think about losing anyone else she cared about. Maybe it was because of the bond she shared with Remy, but she already cared deeply about everyone here. Having someone who could pick up on her emotions was a good thing in this case, since Remy leaned over and wrapped a big, strong arm around her, lending her some of

that strength to help her feel safe. “Are you regretting moving here and putting yourself in the middle of all this?” he asked softly in her ear. “No, of course not! I love you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And don’t even consider pulling any of that I-love-youtoo-much-to put-you-in-danger crap. Because I’m telling you right now, I’m not putting up with it.” Remy pulled her close again, giving her a kiss that warmed her all the way down to her toes. “You won’t have to. If there’s any danger, I want you right beside me where I can keep an eye on you. I love you more than anything in the world, and I refuse to let anything come between us.” “Do you think the hunters will come here?” she asked. “Do you think they’ll really try to take on the Pack?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they do, we’re going to be ready for them. And they’re going to learn that this pack isn’t like anything they’ve ever dealt with before. We’re used to facing bad guys, killers, and psychopaths on a daily basis, and because of that, we’re a pack bound together in ways these people could never imagine. If the hunters come here, we’ll deal with them together—as a pack.” Around them, everyone voiced their agreement. Max, who was still over by the grill, tipped his bottle of beer in Remy’s direction. “Damn straight we will. As a pack.” As everyone began eating and laughing again, Gage walked over with the new betas, introducing everyone. Triana leaned in and kissed Remy, smiling up at him. “As a pack,” she whispered.

For more Paige Tyler check out the X-Ops series Her Dark Half On sale September 2017

Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in Paige Tyler’s action-packed X-Ops series

Her Dark Half

Adana, Turkey, 2013 “Crap on a stick! Why the heck did the weather have to pick tonight to unload on us?” Alina Bosch glanced at her watch again before turning her attention back to the industrial buildings across the street from the small fourth-floor apartment they’d turned into a tactical operations center for the mission. She and her team were in the Yüreğir district, one of the low-income sections of Adana, where streetlamps were few and far between. That, combined with the cold rain that was coming down in buckets, made it nearly impossible to see what the hell was going on over there. But she didn’t need to see much in the way of details to know it was time to move on their target. Two vehicles, one an expensive four-door sedan and the other a midsize moving van, had pulled up in front of the buildings ten

minutes ago. The van had pulled straight through a roll-up door into a maintenance garage area while two men in dark clothes had left the sedan and run straight for the main door of the building. People making a delivery in the rain wouldn’t be unusual, but it was two o’clock in the morning, which made it damn suspicious. Alina and the other four agents of her CIA team were in Adana to stop members of al-Nusra Front, a jihadist faction of the growing Syrian rebel movement, from obtaining the necessary chemicals to make sarin nerve gas. Analysts within both the CIA and NSA had good intel suggesting the group was close to a deal with a local supplier in Turkey for the two most critical ingredients to produce sarin— methylphosphonyl difluoride and isopropylamine. The really scary part was that the rebel group didn’t intend to use the sarin against the Syrian government but instead planned to gas a few thousand innocent civilians—people they were supposedly trying to protect—hoping it would provoke the United States and other western powers into launching a full-scale war against the current Syrian regime. Alina supposed that if you couldn’t take your enemy out by yourself, then you needed to get someone bigger to do it for you—even if it meant your own people had to pay the price. As she watched the garage door roll down behind the moving van, Alina got a twitchy feeling in her stomach. The deal was going down right now; she was sure of it. If she and her team didn’t go in soon, they were going to miss their chance completely. If that happened, there was a good

chance that a lot of people were going to die. Unfortunately, moving on their target at exactly that moment was a problem, because her team was presently one person short. “Jodi,” she whispered softly over her shoulder to the petite, dark-haired woman leaning back against the kitchen counter, cell phone in hand. “Anything on Wade yet? He was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” Jodi Patterson, the youngest and newest member of the team shook her head, her curls bouncing. “I’ve been alternating between calling and texting him for the past twenty minutes. No luck. He’s probably shacked up with some local girl, if he’s not sleeping it off in a ditch somewhere. Then again, it’s always possible he lost his cell phone in a damn poker game.” Alina cursed. They didn’t have time for this. Next to her, Wade Sullivan was the most senior and experienced field operative on the team. Unfortunately, he was also the least reliable. Worse than that, he was the one guy on the team she flat-out didn’t trust. Crap like this was exactly why. While the senior leadership back in Langley loved the guy, to Alina, he’d never been more than a problem waiting to happen. The man drank too much, got off on winging his way through every mission, and didn’t give a damn about the job he did or the people he did it with. It was a given that no one on the team trusted him to cover their backs, but their bosses in the States seemed not to care about that, because she and her team always got the job done, in spite of Wade instead of because of him.

Alina left the window and walked over to the kitchen table to gaze at the floor plans of the industrial building spread out there. Looking at all the red marks and arrows drawn here and there, she groaned as she realized the worst part of Wade AWOL’s status. He was the intel lead on this mission. He’d not only come up with the tip that had led them here and had slipped in the previous night to scout out the building and bugged the room where the Syrian rebels and the local supplier were meeting, but he’d also scoped out all the entrances and blind spots. Even though all his intel notes were sketched out, she’d still rather have Wade here to cover everything one more time. Instead, he was off somewhere getting laid—or drunk. “What do you have on the wire?” she asked Jodi. Jodi pressed her fingers to the wireless earpiece she wore and closed her eyes. Pressing the earbud didn’t do anything, but Alina supposed it helped her focus on what the people in the room Wade had bugged were saying. “I have four, maybe five male voices,” Jodi said. “Two are speaking fluent Turkish. The others are using a combination of Turkish and Arabic. They’re mostly making polite conversation right now, but they’ve said the words anlaştik mi several times. That’s Turkish for deal. A few moments ago, one of the Arab men asked how many drums would be involved.” “We going to do this or what?” Fred Stewart’s gravelly voice rumbled through Alina’s earbud over the encrypted channel. “If they’re already talking about deals and how many drums, there’s no way this meeting is going to last

more than another ten or fifteen minutes. If we don’t go soon, we’re going to blow our chance.” “I know,” Alina told her other teammate. “But Wade is still MIA, and our original plan was based on four of us going in. It’s going to be tough trying to pull this off with just you, me, and Rodney.” “Not like we have much of a choice,” Rodney Miller said in his Southern drawl. “If they drive out of here with those chemicals, we’re never going to find them again. And when the Syrian people get attacked by some extremists using nerve gas, we’re going to know it was our fault. You ready to let that happen?” Alina didn’t answer. Pushing the image his words had painted out of her head, she continued to scan the floor plans and maps on the table in front of her, trying to see a way three people could pull this off. But she couldn’t. There were too many doors, hallways, and rooms to cover. She’d been working with Fred and Rodney for nearly four years. They were both well trained and knew how to handle themselves in a tense tactical situation. But there were at least five people in the building across the street, maybe as many as ten. This wasn’t a job that consisted of walking in and eliminating the bad guys. Her team didn’t do that kind of work. They’d been brought in to confirm these people were involved with a scheme to manufacture sarin nerve gas, then take them down while capturing as many of them alive as possible. Stopping these guys with her full team would have been difficult enough. Trying to do it one man down when they

were a team that was already too small for a mission like this would be nearly suicidal. “You know,” Jodi said in a tone that suggested she knew Alina wasn’t going to like the next words coming out of her mouth, “I could take Wade’s place on the raid instead of sitting on my hands in here.” Alina bit back a curse. She should have known. The biggest reason Alina had grabbed Jodi out of the pool of new agents at Langley was because the girl reminded her of herself at that age. Smart, aggressive, eager, and more than a little bit reckless. Alina was taking her training slowly so Jodi wouldn’t end up making all the same stupid mistakes she had made back then. And because she and Jodi had become good friends. Maybe Alina protected Jodi more than she would have another agent in the same situation, but she wasn’t going to apologize for it. “Forget it, Jodi,” she said. “You aren’t ready for something like this, and you won’t be for a while.” Jodi made a face. “Are you serious? Dammit, Alina. I’ve been on the team for months, and so far, you haven’t let me do anything but watch computer monitors and listen to radios. This isn’t why I did all that training back at Langley. I’m ready for this. That’s why you selected me to be on your team, isn’t it?” “I selected you to be on my team because I thought you had the potential to be a good field agent—with the proper experience. And until you get that experience, your job is to watch computer monitors and listen to radios.” Jodi scowled. “How am I supposed to get any experience

if you never let me do anything?” Alina opened her mouth to answer, but Rodney interrupted her. “Alina, I’m by the back entrance of the building near the garage. It sounds like they’re loading the truck,” he said softly into her earpiece. “If we’re going to do this, it needs to be soon.” “Stand by,” Alina said to Rodney, then looked at Jodi. “Anything from Wade?” Jodi glanced at her phone and shook her head. “Dammit,” Alina muttered. She and her team were here to stop this deal. That’s what they were going to do—with or without Wade. Spinning around, she headed for the door. “I’m on the way down,” she said over the radio. “Rodney, you’ll go in the back as planned. Fred and I will go in the front. Once we get inside, he’ll split off and help you cover the garage, while I handle the conference room.” The two men acknowledged the change in plans without comment. The adjustment would mean that Alina would be covering the largest concentration of bad guys on her own, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Hand on the doorknob, she turned to look at Jodi. “Stay here and monitor the wire. Let us know if you hear anything.” Jodi probably would have argued, but Alina opened the door and walked out of the apartment and headed for the stairwell. Outside, Alina yanked the collar of her leather jacket up as

she jogged across the street, trying to keep the cold rain from slipping down the back of her neck. She was only partially successful. “If this turns into a shoot-out, make sure you avoid those chemical drums,” Alina whispered into her radio as she hopped on the curb and moved closer to the building. “They may not contain nerve agent yet, but we don’t want to breathe that crap anyway.” Fred reached the front door of the building before she did. After a quick peek through the glass, he picked the lock, then swung open the door. Alina drew her pistol as she met up with him. He did the same, covering her as they both entered. “We’re in,” she whispered over the radio. “Ditto,” Rodney responded. Alina stopped for a moment, listening. She heard soft voices coming from a room down the hall on her left. She didn’t hear any other sounds, not even from the garage where Rodney said he heard them loading the van. Did that mean they’d already finished the deal and were about to move? She gave Fred a nod and pointed in the direction of the garage, indicating she wanted him to back up Rodney. Tightening her grip on her pistol, she headed for the room down the hall. She was halfway there when she realized something was wrong. It took her a moment to figure out what was causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up, but then it hit her. The layout of the hallway and rooms off it was wrong. Or more precisely, the drawings Wade had

made were off. The room the voices were coming from was on the wrong side of the hall, directly across from an adjoining corridor to her right that wasn’t even supposed to be there. She shouldn’t have been surprised Wade had screwed up the details. He wasn’t necessarily big on that kind of crap. But combining it with the fact that he hadn’t bothered to show up made her stomach knot. “We’re in the maintenance bay,” Fred said over the radio. “There are a few drums that might be chemical, but no people.” Crap. “Something isn’t right about this,” Alina said. Her instincts were telling her to bail, but they couldn’t do that. Not until they apprehended the bad guys. “We’re on the way to your location now,” Rodney said. “Roger that.” Taking a deep breath, Alina took another step toward the door. Even through the heavy wood, she could clearly hear the men talking inside. She didn’t have Jodi’s knack for languages, so she wasn’t sure what they were saying, but from the laughter, it sounded like the negotiations were going well. She glanced over her shoulder to see Fred and Rodney hurrying down the hallway toward her. They looked as confused and worried as she was. “Jodi, we’re going in,” Alina whispered over the radio before giving Rodney a nod. Rodney stepped forward to kick in the door when Jodi’s

confused voice floated across the secure radio channel. “Guys, something’s wrong. The men are starting to repeat themselves. I think—” That was all she got out before Rodney’s boot connected with the door, sending it flying back on its hinges. Alina and Fred followed him in, ready to deal with however many armed men they found. The room was completely empty except for the portable CD player sitting in the middle of the table, Turkish and Arabic voices coming from the speakers. Alina cursed. “It’s a trap. Get out!” But it was too late. Men armed with automatic rifles flooded into the hallway. Alina scrambled over the table along with Fred and Rodney just as the men started shooting. Fred flipped the table over, and Alina knelt behind it and returned fire, putting round after round through the group of men charging through the doorway. At this distance, it was impossible to miss her targets, and several of them went down. But the reverse was also true. Rodney went down first, a bullet hitting him right in the forehead. Alina felt her heart break as her friend went down, but she couldn’t even spare him a glance. It was all she could do to drop the empty magazine out of her 9mm and reload so she could keep shooting. Jodi shouted over the radio in her ear, but Alina had no more time for her than she had for Rodney. A bullet zipped past her shoulder while another whizzed past her head. Yet a

third shattered the wood of the table she hid behind, showering her with splinters. Even though she knew any one of those shots could have finished her, she forced herself to ignore them, to accept that she wasn’t dead yet, and to shoot back as fast as she could. Just when Alina was sure it was over, that there was absolutely no chance she and Fred would live through this, their attackers halted as another one of them fell to the floor dead. The remaining two spun and fled for the door. Alina clipped one in the hip just as he and his buddy disappeared around the corner. Alina quickly reloaded in the event that the men came back with reinforcements. She’d just slammed the magazine home when a flash of movement on her right caught her eye. She turned in time to catch Fred as he slumped to the floor. “Oh God, Fred. Not you, too,” she whispered. She got her arms around his shoulders and tried to settle him to the floor as gently as she could. Still holding on to her gun with her right hand, she used her left to put pressure on the wound that was soaking the front of his jacket with blood. Those two assholes had shot him before turning tail and running. Fred gazed up at her, a mix of pain and fear in his gray eyes. He tried to talk, but no words came out. Tears in her eyes, Alina rocked him and murmured that it was going to be okay, even though she knew it wasn’t. As Fred died in her arms, she wondered if the Agency would ever tell his wife and kids what had really happened to him. She doubted it. That wasn’t how they worked.

She was just easing him to the floor when she realized Jodi was still shouting at her over the secure radio channel to tell her what was happening. Alina reached up to adjust the volume on her wireless earbud, not sure what the hell she was going to tell Jodi, when she realized she wasn’t even wearing her earbud anymore. It had gotten dislodged in the fight. She had no idea where it had gone. And yet she could still hear Jodi’s voice. She looked around and saw a radio lying on the floor near one of the dead shooters. It was too big to be one of theirs, but Jodi’s voice was coming out of it loud and clear. That’s when everything hit her. The prerecorded voices designed to lure them into this room, the way the wellarmed attackers had known exactly when to hit them, the low-tech rebels having access to a CIA-encrypted radio frequency, and Wade never showing for the mission. A mission he’d set up almost completely on his own. Wade had betrayed them. He never showed up because he’d set them up to die. Heart pounding, Alina ran out into the hall and snatched the radio off the floor. This ambush might not be over. “Jodi, get out now!” she yelled into the radio as she ran for the front entrance, her heart hammering in her chest. “The mission is compromised. Communications are compromised. Cut and run!” There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, “What about Fred and Rodney?” “Dammit, Jodi. Go now!”

More silence. “Understood,” Jodi finally said, and it tore at Alina’s heart to hear the fear in her voice. “Falling back to rally point Charlie now.” Alina almost stepped into another ambush outside as the two shooters who’d disappeared earlier stepped out of the darkness and started shooting. She fired off one shot to make them duck, then darted back into the safety of the alcove. “Negative, Jodi,” she said into the radio as she peeked around the concrete corner of the entryway to make sure the men weren’t coming toward her. “It’s not just the operation that was compromised. It was the team. Don’t use any rally points, safe houses, transportation assets, or money drops that were set up for the mission. Do you understand what I’m saying?” There was a moment of hesitation, then, “I understand. Good luck, Alina. I hope I see you again.” “You will,” Alina promised. She heard the pounding of footsteps over the radio and knew Jodi was on the run. Alina shoved the radio in her jacket, then stepped out to face the two men. If they still had their radios, they’d know Jodi was making a run for it. Alina would be damned if she’d let them kill Jodi, too. She walked across the street, ignoring the downpour as she aimed slow, steady shots at the corner of the building the two men were hiding behind. That kept their heads down until she was close enough to put herself right in their sights, encouraging them to come at her.

They obliged, stepping out and lifting their Russian-made automatic weapons. She put the first man down before he got off a shot. But the second one was ballsy, standing his ground and taking time to get a bead on her. He fired first, the round of his AK-47 tearing through her jacket, skipping along the left side of her torso, ripping open the side pocket, and spilling her confiscated radio to the street. The pain of the wound—and that of Fred’s and Rodney’s deaths—sharpening her focus, she put a 9mm ball round right through the center of the man’s chest. He bounced back off the wall behind him, then tumbled to the wet ground. Only after she was sure they were dead did Alina finally lower her gun. She put it away, clutching a hand to her side as she bent forward to collect the radio. She’d intended to pick up the radio and toss it in the bushes along with her weapon, but then she heard a thump and clang of a heavy metal door on the back side of the apartment building. Alina breathed a sigh of relief knowing her friend was going to get away, but then she heard another sound that was impossible to mistake for anything other than the pop of a silenced weapon going off. Alina sprinted for the front door of the apartment building, slamming open the door and racing down the hall as fast as she could. She still had a hundred feet to go when she heard Jodi’s soft voice over the radio. “Screw you, Wade.” There were several more pops, then silence. Alina ran as fast as she could, but it took her a few

minutes to find the door that Jodi had shoved open. It was tough, because the building was large and had at least two exits on each side of it. When she finally found her friend, Jodi was curled up in a ball beside a big trash can. Wade was nowhere in sight. It almost looked like Jodi was sleeping, but the hand she had clenched to her stomach was all the proof Alina needed to know she wasn’t. Alina gently rolled her friend away from the trash can to find she was already dead. Two shots to the stomach and three to the chest. Since Jodi had cursed Wade before she’d died, the son of a bitch must have shot her in the stomach first just because it would hurt, then followed up with the kill shots to the chest. After he’d let her suffer a bit. He’d always been such an asshole. Sitting on the wet ground, Alina wrapped Jodi in her arms, squeezing her tightly as she finally let the tears come. A part of her knew she should get out of there before the police showed, but she couldn’t make herself move. She needed time to cry for her friends before she let them go. Slowly, anger replaced the horrible, soul-crushing sorrow. While she was furious with Wade, she was mad at herself, too. She should have seen this betrayal coming. She’d always had some reservations about him, but instead of trusting the instincts that had been screaming at her from day one that Wade was a piece of crap, she’d gone along with the flow, assuming the Agency wouldn’t have hired him if he was dirty. That assumption and lack of faith in her instincts had gotten the three most important people in her

life killed. Sirens echoed in the distance, but Alina ignored them. The police would congregate around the industrial building first, securing the perimeter, searching for survivors, trying to make sense of the scene, and talking to witnesses from the apartment building. They wouldn’t get around to searching back here for a while. So she stayed where she was, hugging Jodi to her chest as she made a solemn promise to all of her teammates that she was going to do whatever it took to track Wade down and make him pay for what he’d done. No matter how long it took or what bridges she had to burn to make it happen, she was going to find Wade, and she was going to kill him. And no one was going to stand in her way.

Chapter 1 Quantico, Virginia, Present Day “The director wants you in his office ASAP.” Trevor Maxwell glanced up from the hot dog he was eating to look at the guy standing in front of his table. Short and stocky, the man was regarding him like something to be scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Trevor resisted the urge to bare his teeth in a snarl and took another bite of his hot dog. He wasn’t really hungry, but at least lunch was a pleasant break from the monotony of an otherwise miserable day. And the cafeteria served damn good hot dogs. Unfortunately, he’d had a lot of miserable days at the Department of Covert Operations, the secret government organization where he worked. It came with being labeled a traitorous freak. “You have a problem understanding what ASAP means?” the man asked, a butt load of attitude lacing his words. Gaze never leaving the man, Trevor slowly finished chewing, then swallowed. “It means Dick Coleman wants me in his office as soon as possible. I’ll go just as soon as I

finish eating. Because I couldn’t possibly leave before that.” The man looked like he wanted to say something snide in reply, but when Trevor let his eyes glow coyote yellow and his upper canines slide out far enough to extend over his lower lip, the guy quickly changed his mind. “Whatever,” the man muttered. “Your funeral.” The comment probably would have come across as more ominous if the asshat hadn’t shuddered before walking away. But hey, the people who had been brought into the DCO lately didn’t have a lot of experience with shifters, and seeing a man sprout claws and fangs—not to mention flashing gold eyes—was a bit much for a lot of them to deal with. Most of the other people around the cafeteria were regarding him with the same mix of hatred and revulsion. It wasn’t only the muscle-headed thugs Dick—or rather Thomas Thorn, the man Dick answered to—had hired lately. The agents who’d worked alongside shifters like Trevor for years were throwing him dirty looks, too. Trevor supposed hating shifters was sociably acceptable now that John Loughlin, the former director of the DCO and de facto champion of the organization’s shifter program, had been killed when a bomb had exploded in his office. The day John had died, everything had changed. Now the covert intelligence organization the man had spent more than a decade building from the ground up was quickly falling apart from the inside out. One look around the cafeteria proved that. It was lunchtime, yet you’d never know it from the handful of

people scattered around the room shoving food in their faces as if they couldn’t wait to be somewhere else. The place used to be filled with agents, analysts, and other support personnel at this time of day. While there’d always been some who were antishifter in the DCO, their numbers had been more than offset by those who realized the good that people like Trevor and his kind brought to the organization. Somehow, John had perfected the concept of pairing shifters with highly trained covert operatives. People had said it would never work, that shifters were little more than animals and couldn’t be trusted to work in a team environment, much less be given missions critical to national defense. John had proven the doubters wrong, fielding teams that had accomplished things that should have been impossible. But John’s death had led to a complete change at the top of the organization, and the new regime was blatant in their opposition to all things shifter. These days, there were probably half as many people working for the DCO as there had been a month ago. Trevor couldn’t blame them. Why stay when Dick’s first act had been to announce that the very shifters John had trusted had conspired to murder him? There hadn’t been any proof of course, but then again, when had that bastard Dick ever let something like proof get in the way of what he wanted? Hell, he’d barely let John’s seat get cold before sitting in it. Trevor seriously doubted that anyone with an ounce of intelligence believed any of the supposedly rogue DCO

agents had been involved in John’s death. But when those twelve men and women who formed the backbone of John’s shifter program had gone on the run within hours of his murder, people either accepted they were guilty as charged or smart enough to know they’d never be able to prove their innocence before they were eliminated. Either way, lots of good agents had read the writing on the wall and bailed. The moment they were gone, Dick had filled their positions with trigger pullers who spent most of their time chasing the rogue shifters or sitting on their asses. It made Trevor wonder what the hell he was still doing there. Trevor was still contemplating that—and whether to get another hot dog—when two men walked into the cafeteria and immediately headed for his table. Considering there was a twenty-foot-deep buffer zone of empty tables around Trevor, that might have put him on guard, but since they were among the few friends he had at the DCO, he turned his attention to the plate of french fries just begging to be eaten as Jake Basso and Jaxson West slid out a couple of chairs and joined him. “Not a good idea for you guys to be seen with me,” Trevor said between bites. “Not only could it be hazardous to your career, but it might just end up getting you killed.” Jake, a former Navy SEAL and technically still a member of Trevor’s counterintelligence/counterespionage team, reached over and snagged a fry off the pile with a laugh. Since Trevor’s team had essentially been disbanded, Jake wasn’t anything but a good friend and coworker now.

“What career?” Jake asked. He was a big guy with darkblond hair, blue eyes, and a slightly crooked nose thanks to a fight he’d gotten into in high school. “I haven’t done anything but clean weapons at the firing range since everything went to hell around here. I think I’d appreciate someone trying to kill me just to relieve the boredom.” Yeah, Trevor guessed Jake’s career was already shot. Thanks to him. Something else for Trevor to feel crappy about. But Jake was damn good at his job, and his SEAL background would ensure that he’d land on his feet, even if he wasn’t likely to use anyone around here as a reference on his résumé. Jaxson West, on the other hand, was kind of screwed. As the DCO’s head of security, he’d answered directly to John when it came to securing both the training facility here on the back side of Quantico as well as the main DCO offices in downtown DC. Given that his boss had been assassinated on his watch—and that Dick hated his guts—Jaxson was in serious trouble. Dick would see that the man was blackballed in the covert community just because he could. But looking at the big, dark-haired guy sitting there so relaxed, you’d be hard-pressed to know the man was counting the days to unemployment. “You hear anything from Lucy?” Trevor asked. Jaxson grabbed a handful of fries. “No. But then again, I never expected to. The only reason she stayed at the DCO was because of John. With him gone, there’s nothing to keep her here.” Even though he tried to cover it up, Trevor knew Jaxson

was hurt that Lucy had walked away from the DCO without ever saying a word to him. He’d been closer to Lucy Kwan, the feline shifter that John had found in China, than anyone —except maybe John, of course. Trevor had always assumed Jaxson and Lucy would end up together. Who knew? Maybe she’d come back someday. It wasn’t like she had to worry about anyone trying to hang the traitor label on her. No one in the organization, not even Dick, would be dumb enough to accuse the petite Asian woman of anything. While she might look like the sweetest angel ever, she was the most cold-blooded, ruthless killer the DCO had ever employed. And that was saying a lot, considering the kind of people the organization had associated with over the years. “You should have gotten more fries,” Jake pointed out as he snatched up the last half dozen or so in one big hand. Trevor chuckled. “If you’d told me you’d be joining me for lunch, I would have.” Jake shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it. Jaxson and I were heading down to the pistol range to burn off a little stress when one of Dick’s new muscle-headed asshats walked past us muttering about the damn freaky shifter in the cafeteria. Since there are only three of you guys still hanging around and the others are too new to possess the ability to piss people off quite like you, we figured we’d stop in and say hi.” “That was mighty kind of you,” Trevor said. “I think.” “You haven’t heard from Ed since I talked to you last, have you?” Jake asked.

Trevor frowned at the name. Ed Vincent, a former Air Force Pararescue, had been the first man John had teamed up with Trevor when he’d come to work at the DCO eight years ago. Jake had joined them a little while later, and since then, the three of them had traveled the world, covering each other’s backs more times than Trevor could count. When John had been murdered, Ed had up and left without saying anything to anyone, not even Trevor and Jake. Clearly, Ed hadn’t been as tight with him and Jake as Trevor had thought. “Nah, I haven’t heard from him,” Trevor said. “Maybe once he gets settled.” Jake nodded but looked doubtful. “Maybe. How about Tate Evers? He and his guys have been gone for weeks.” “He called about a week ago from a little town just inside the Panamanian border called Cerro Punta,” Trevor said. “Dick has them down there scouring the jungles of Costa Rica and Panama, chasing down rumors about hybrids that might have survived the fighting back in November.” Jaxson shook his head. “Hunting for hybrids in the middle of the jungle without a shifter to help them track is insane. It will take months.” No kidding. Hybrids were man-made versions of shifters, and the ones the DCO had fought with down in Costa Rica had been almost rabid. That was what happened when people tried to use science to create something rare and unique. “I think that’s the idea.” Trevor picked up his bottle of Gatorade and took a swig. “The real DCO teams are out

chasing ghosts so they won’t get in the way of the so-called investigation into John’s murder.” Jake snorted. “Dick has to know those idiots he has gallivanting all over the globe earning frequent flyer miles have no chance in hell of catching a shifter.” “True that,” Trevor said. Thank God. Not that Dick was truly the one giving Tate’s team or any others their orders. The person really pulling the strings was Thomas Thorn. Since its inception, the DCO had been run from behind the scenes by a shadowy group called the Committee, a nebulous collection of eight current and former House and Senate elites who’d held powerful positions on their respective intelligence panels. While nothing had officially changed within the Committee’s structure, John’s death had scared most of them so much that they’d gladly ceded most, if not all, of their authority to one of their members— Thomas Thorn. Which was a mistake, since Thorn was almost certainly the man who’d had John killed. “You want to head down to the range and punch a few holes in some targets?” Jake asked. “You can imagine it’s Dick if it helps.” Trevor chuckled. “Sounds like fun, but Dick asked me to meet him”—he glanced down at his watch—“nearly thirty minutes ago. I guess I should probably get over there before he decides to go ahead and just fire me already.” Neither of his friends laughed. “What if he does?” Jake asked. “I mean, I don’t

understand why the hell you’re even still working at the DCO. You could walk into the Defense Intel Agency Headquarters at Anacostia-Bolling and walk out with a great job within minutes. Why the hell would you want to hang around this joint and get treated like crap?” Trevor had asked himself that more than a few times. Pushing back his chair, he stood and picked up his tray. “It’s complicated,” was all he said.

*** The minute Trevor walked into the main DCO administration building and saw the memorial plaque with John’s name, as well as his secretary Olivia’s, on it, he remembered exactly why he stayed and put up with Dick’s and Thorn’s bullshit. Contrary to what he’d told Jake and Jaxson in the cafeteria, it wasn’t complicated at all. He could have bailed the moment he’d heard John was dead. He’d been up in Maine, dealing with some demented doctors who’d been trying to create hybrids of their own, and it would have been easy to jump the border into Canada and disappear. Feline shifter Ivy Halliwell and her husband/partner, Landon Donovan, had wanted him to go into hiding with them, and he’d been tempted. He was smart enough to know what life at the DCO would be like without John there. But in the end, he’d wanted to come back and get the son of a bitch who’d killed John. He’d liked and respected John. It was the least he could do for the man. Admittedly, coming back had been risky. Dick could easily

have labeled Trevor one of the conspirators and tossed him in some supermax prison, never to be seen again. Hell, Dick could have had him executed, and no one would ever have known that, either. Trevor only hoped that Dick wouldn’t realize how closely Trevor was aligned with Ivy and Landon. Outside of one mission in Tajikistan, they’d never officially worked together, so it was possible he might not. Crazy, but possible. Ivy and Landon hadn’t liked the idea of Trevor staying but said they’d help him any way they could. “If you even think Dick or Thorn are onto you, promise you’ll run, okay?” Ivy had said before she and Landon had gone on the run. Since then, all communications had been handled through burner phones, code words on various chat loops, and trusted messengers. It wasn’t the same as being able to talk face-to-face, but it was good enough. As he strode down the hall, Trevor marveled at how quickly the bombed-out part of the building had been repaired. He couldn’t even smell the smoke residue anymore over the scent of fresh drywall, paint, and carpeting. No one would ever know a bomb had taken out the whole middle section of the first floor and part of the second right above it. For a man who’d sworn up and down that he wanted to catch John’s killers, Dick had been damn quick when it came to destroying any evidence of the bombing. The new director had had the entire damaged section of the building demolished and removed within days of the murder.

Fortunately, Trevor had slipped into the smoking ruins that first night, fresh off the flight from Maine, when the heat had still been so bad it’d melted his boots and burned his hands. But he’d found more than two dozen pieces of the bomb, so it had been worth it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known what to do with them right away. Normally, he would have turned them over to the DCO analysts and tech people and let them do their magic. But most of the ones he trusted had left, and the ones who’d stayed freely admitted they had no skill when it came to bomb and explosive forensics. Because Dick had so many people watching Trevor, it had taken almost a week to get a message to Ivy and Landon, letting them know what he needed. They’d given him the name of Danica’s former FBI partner in Sacramento, Tony Moretti. Trevor had never met the man, but Danica and the others trusted him, so that meant he would, too. But with people watching him, it had taken another week to get everything packaged up and sent out there. Since then, he’d been waiting to see if the FBI labs could come up with anything. He wasn’t expecting much. It wasn’t like Thorn was an idiot. He wasn’t likely to hire a bomb maker who’d be dumb enough to leave any solid clues behind. Moreover, Tony would have to get the bomb remains evaluated without tipping off anyone as to where the bombing had occurred. They simply couldn’t risk word of the investigation getting back to Thorn or Dick. While he waited, Trevor had been trying to find the

bomber another way. DCO training officer Skye Durant and intel analyst Evan Lloyd were helping, but it was slow, excruciating work. He had things he could be out there doing, leads he could be checking out, but he couldn’t, not when he was under constant surveillance. He would have asked Jake and Jaxson for help, but he didn’t want to put any more people in danger than absolutely necessary. Sighing, Trevor walked into the outer waiting area of the newly renovated director’s office. The monstrously large desk his secretary, Phyllis, was sitting behind probably cost more than John’s entire suite of furniture from the old office. There were paintings on the wall that looked like original pieces from the early colonial years, and the coffee machine set up along the side wall looked like something you might need an engineering degree to use. Phyllis glanced up from her computer. Nearly sixty, she had short, curly gray hair and a thin, almost beaklike nose, on which a pair of half-moon reading glasses were perched. He grinned at her. “I’m here to see Dick.” The woman didn’t return his smile. Now that he thought about it, Trevor wasn’t sure the woman knew how to smile. If so, she’d certainly never done it around him. He was pretty sure Dick’s secretary didn’t think much of him, though whether it was because he was a shifter or a smartass, he didn’t know. He preferred to think it was his animal nature. He didn’t mind being looked down on because he sometimes had claws and fangs. He’d been born that way and couldn’t do anything about it. But his wit? That had taken him years of hard work to develop. He hated to think

the effort had been wasted. “Director Coleman is expecting you. And has been for nearly thirty minutes,” she said scathingly. “Great! So I guess that means I can just let myself right in.” The older woman didn’t seem amused by that. Then again, Phyllis never seemed amused. Or angry. Or alive, for that matter. Maybe she suffered from a perpetual case of resting bitch face. “You most certainly will not. I’ll announce you,” she said in a tone that suggested she considered him somehow unworthy of that honor. He smiled even broader. “Well, how about that? I’ve never been announced before. I mean, sure, they announced my number all the time back in prison, but that’s not the same thing, you know?” He was hoping to at least get a disdainful glower out of her, but not even that comment could crack her bland facade. Good sarcasm was simply wasted on some people. Getting to her feet, Phyllis came around the desk and led the way to Dick’s office. She knocked once, then stuck her head in and told her boss Trevor was there. A moment later, she opened the door and motioned him in. “Announcing someone would be more dramatic if you had a big staff you could thump on the floor a few times,” he pointed out, unable to resist poking her one more time. “You know, kind of like they do in Renaissance festivals?” Phyllis stood there holding the door open, regarding him

with absolutely no expression. “Nothing?” Trevor shook his head. “I’m standing here working it, and you’re just going to leave me hanging like that?” Phyllis arched a brow. Damn, the woman was tough. Giving up, Trevor walked past her into the office. He barely made it through the door before Phyllis closed it. He supposed he could consider that a small victory. He might actually get a rise out of her at some point. Thanks to a keen sense of smell, Trevor knew there were three people in the office before he got inside—Dick, Thorn, and some woman he’d never seen before. He was interested in who the new woman was, what Dick wanted to talk to him about, and why Thorn was there, but he chose to ignore them all for the time being as he took a moment to appreciate all the changes Dick had made to the director’s office. Okay, appreciate was probably the wrong word. Trevor was never one to appreciate gaudy displays of excess, and that’s what Dick was all about. The first thing that struck him was that it was bigger than before. Actually, it was nearly three times the size of John’s old office. Like the outer room, this part of the renovation had come with loads of pricey furniture and over-the-top artwork. Based on the framed paintings mounted on the wall, people might think Dick had an obsession with dead white guys painted in dramatic poses. Two presidents, a general in battlefield garb, an arrogant-looking man sitting behind a big desk, and a sailor standing in a small boat

holding an old-fashioned harpoon. Obviously, Dick wasn’t a big fan of landscapes. When Trevor finally turned his attention to Dick, he noted with pleasure that the director looked a little pissed off sitting there behind his ridiculously large desk. If Trevor was lucky, maybe the man would blow a gasket the more he aggravated him. Then again, Trevor might not get the chance to hang around here long enough to do that. There was a good chance Dick had called him in here specifically to fire him. Trevor sauntered over to the empty chair in front of Dick’s desk, passing his other least favorite person, Thomas Thorn, on the way. The well-dressed former senator was leaning casually against the edge of a low bookcase, regarding Trevor with something more than mild interest. Regardless of the man’s posture, there was nothing relaxed and casual about Thorn. While Dick liked to think he could make himself more impressive with a fancy office and a big desk, Thorn demonstrated that truly powerful people needed none of that. You could put this guy in green tights and a pink tutu, and while he might look ridiculous, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind about which man was in charge…and which one was more dangerous. Thorn was nearly sixty years old but could easily have been mistaken for a man ten or fifteen years younger. He was very fit, with a head of dark hair that didn’t have even a sprinkling of gray in it yet, although that could have been because he dyed it. His dark eyes were as sharp and intense as a hunter’s, and he had no problem giving away the fact

that he was studying Trevor as much as Trevor was studying him. But while Thorn exuded the pure charm and charisma that many politicians possessed, he also had the cold, detached aura of a psychopathic killer. Thorn might not have set off the bomb that killed John, but he’d ordered the hit. Until recently, Thorn and his head of security had never hung around the DCO training complex, but since John’s murder, they’d both become regular features. Their excuse was that, in times of crisis, the DCO needed superior guidance and leadership. That was bullshit of course. Thorn was hanging around to make sure his plans—whatever those might be—went off without a hitch. It was difficult seeing Thorn and knowing what the man had done, not just to John, but to the whole DCO. One friend was dead, and the rest were on the run for their lives, all because Thorn wanted them out of the way. The urge to rip out the man’s throat was frigging hard to resist. The only thing that stopped Trevor was the knowledge that killing Thorn wasn’t what John would have wanted. A slow, evil smile curved Thorn’s lips, as if he realized the struggle going on inside Trevor. The arrogance in the man’s eyes damn near pushed Trevor over the edge, and he felt his canines elongate, aching to tear into some meaty part of this a-hole’s anatomy. Trevor took a deep breath and forced his fangs to retract, pushing down the urge to kill and instead turning his attention to the woman sitting in front of Dick’s desk as he sat down beside her. She was undeniably attractive, with long, strawberry-

blond hair tied back in a professional-looking bun, perfect fair skin, and some seriously pink bee-stung lips. She also had the most unusual green-blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were kind of mesmerizing, actually. Since she was seated, he couldn’t tell exactly how tall she was, but he was guessing five ten or so. While he couldn’t be sure of her height, he was definitely sure the woman was fit. Not even the professional-looking pantsuit she had on could hide the fact that she had long runner’s legs. She also had the familiar scent of smokeless gunpowder clinging to her. It was mostly covered up with some kind of fruity bodywash and a flowery shampoo, but he could smell it. She’d fired a weapon recently, probably that morning. She was almost certainly a field agent of some kind, though what the hell any of this had to do with him, Trevor didn’t have a clue. He turned back to Dick. “Someone mentioned you wanted to see me? I would have come sooner, but they were serving hot dogs in the cafeteria.” Dick’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Trevor thought the man might explode, but instead, he got a grip on his anger and gestured to the woman. “Trevor Maxwell, meet Alina Bosch.” Trevor glanced at her. “A pleasure.” Alina nodded in return, but before she could say anything, Dick spoke again. “She’s former CIA and your new partner.” Trevor waited for the punch line. Because one had to be coming. There was absolutely no way in hell Dick was ever

going to voluntarily put him back in the field, so why waste time giving him a partner? But after a staring contest with the man, he finally realized Dick wasn’t joking. He hated doing it, but he was gonna have to bite on this one. The curiosity was just too much for him. This was like giving in and admitting you couldn’t find your four-yearold nephew during a game of hide-and-seek—it just plain sucked. “Okay, Dick. I admit, getting someone out of the CIA is a big win for the team,” Trevor said, giving him a thumbs-up. “But why partner her up with me? I mean, you’ve had me on the bench for a while.” He threw Alina a glance. “No offense. I’m sure you’re a wonderful agent and all. Your parents must be very proud.” Alina shrugged. “No offense taken. You’re not exactly my first choice in partners, either.” Snarky and blunt. Two qualities he appreciated in a woman. Throw in the fact that she was also hot as a blowtorch, and Trevor had to admit he was disappointed she was on Thorn’s payroll. It made him wonder if the man had chosen Alina through the use of some crazy software program that said she possessed all the qualities necessary to trick him into being stupid in her presence, because she definitely did. “Oh, and just to be clear,” she continued, “my parents don’t know I’m CIA. They think I’m a barista at a coffee shop.” Out of the corner of his eye, Trevor saw Thorn regarding him and Alina with the same detached expression he

probably used when pulling the wings off flies. “You’re right,” Dick said. “I have been keeping you on the shelf lately, and with good reason. We just had six of our best shifter teams conspire to kill the former director of this organization. I haven’t been able to bring myself to put you out in the field since John’s murder because I simply don’t know where your loyalties lie.” The fact that Dick was even having this conversation with him and bringing up the subject of trust was significant. The man instinctively didn’t want to trust Trevor because he was a shifter, but something else was going on that had him questioning that. Something serious enough to make him pair Trevor up with a new partner and put him back into the field. Trevor had no idea what that something was, but if it meant getting out from under Dick’s constant surveillance —even for a little while—it would be worth it to play along. “You want to know where my loyalties lie?” Trevor asked bluntly. “That’s easy. They lie with John Loughlin, the man who recruited me and taught me most of what I know. The man who was killed by a bunch of fucking cowards that I’d do anything to hunt down and gut like the pieces of crap that they are.” Dick didn’t say anything, but his heart sped up a little. No doubt because Trevor had let out a menacing growl at the end there as his anger got the best of him. Then again, maybe Dick’s heart was beating a little faster because he knew Trevor was pointing those threats directly at him.

After a moment, the director looked at Thorn, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. Dick opened a drawer along one side of his desk and took out a thick file folder, dropping it on the desk in front of Trevor with a thud. “As I’m sure you already know, the DCO has expended a tremendous amount of time and resources in the hunt for the rogue shifters, especially Ivy and Landon, whom we consider the ringleaders of the conspiracy. Unfortunately, those efforts have been a failure. Regardless of our commitment to finding John’s killers, the time has come to realize that our traditional agents simply don’t have the tools necessary for the job.” Trevor almost laughed. Considering that the operatives Dick had sent out weren’t even real agents but hired muscle, it was an understatement to say they didn’t possess the tools to catch Ivy and Landon. Hell, those meatheads weren’t just missing the right tools to catch a shifter; they didn’t even own a fucking toolbox. “So you want me to track them down?” Trevor asked, figuring that was what Dick wanted to hear. “No, I want you and Agent Bosch to track them down,” Dick said. “Together.” Trevor turned to regard the former CIA agent sitting beside him. Alina returned his gaze. There was only one reason Dick would team them up—so she could keep tabs on him. That meant she was already deep in Dick’s pockets —or Thorn’s. While he seriously wanted the chance to get out and do a little digging on John’s killer, he wasn’t

thrilled at the idea of having to deal with a partner who’d be on the phone reporting everything he did to Dick five times a day. “Before you bother asking what Alina brings to the table, I’ll clarify that point right now. She’s very good at digging out traitors,” Dick said succinctly, and Trevor had to wonder if that was a little jab at him. “It’s one of the things she’s excelled at the past few years in the CIA.” Trevor didn’t say anything. This was obviously a done deal. If teaming up with Alina was what he had to put up with to get back in the game, he’d make it work. “Fine,” he said. “If it’s settled then, I’d like to head out immediately. I have a couple of leads I’d like to look into this afternoon.” “What leads?” Dick asked. “I’ve heard rumors about some people down in Fredericksburg who got into a scuffle in a restaurant with a couple of guys they described as…odd. I think it might be the rogue shifters.” Dick eyed him doubtfully. “Why the hell would any of the rogue teams stay this close to the DCO training complex? That seems incredibly foolish.” “That’s only because you seem to think they’re out there running scared,” Trevor said. “They’re not. Ivy and Landon would almost certainly have left at least one team close to DC so they could keep an eye on what we’re doing. I’m sure you’ve already realized they likely still have people on the inside feeding them info, right?” Trevor felt a slight twinge telling Dick this kind of stuff,

but it wasn’t like it was a big secret. Dick might be a moron, but Thorn was smart enough to know at least some of the shifter teams were likely nearby. Part of staying on with the DCO was playing the game and making it look like he was actively engaged in catching his former coworkers. Not that he was really leading Dick anywhere near his friends. In truth, he wanted to get down to the Fredericksburg area so he could check out a guy that Evan had stumbled across while reviewing video footage from the DCO’s front gate on the morning of the bombing. The guy had only started working for the DCO three weeks before John’s death, had driven onto the complex insanely early that morning, and had quit two days after the bombing. Even better, the man had a direct connection to Thorn. He’d worked IT support at one of the local Chadwick-Thorn subsidiaries before showing up at the DCO. With his background, Trevor doubted he was the man who’d built the bomb that had killed John, but he definitely could have been the one to plant the device in the director’s office. It was someone they should have looked at a long time ago, but it had taken forever for Evan and Skye to find him, since they were dealing with their own trust issues within the remains of the DCO analyst section. It was a given that some of the people who’d stayed there were on Team Thorn. Any digging they did had to be accomplished slowly. But if this was the man who’d delivered the device that had killed John, it would be a good first step toward finding that link to Thorn. Dick threw one of those what-do-I-do-now glances in

Thorn’s direction. The former senator responded with another imperceptible nod. Thorn should rig up some marionette strings for the director. They could take their act on the road. “Do it,” Dick said in his best imitation of a man who knew what the hell he was doing. “But I want you two to keep me informed of everything you’re doing at all times.” Trevor snorted. “Of course you do—since you trust me so much now.” Dick didn’t take the bait. “I don’t trust you. And I won’t until you give me reason to. Until then, you two should consider yourselves on a short leash.”

Chapter 2 “I thought we were going to Fredericksburg?” Alina asked as they passed straight through the town and kept going until they hit Highway 2 and headed south. After leaving Dick Coleman’s office, Trevor had told her he’d meet her in front of the admin building, then disappeared. When he showed up fifteen minutes later in a black Suburban, she’d noticed he’d changed out of the black tactical uniform he’d been wearing and into cargo pants and a button-down. Trevor glanced at his rearview mirror before giving her a smile. “We did go to Fredericksburg—and now we’re leaving. I figured since it’s such a nice day, why not enjoy ourselves with a leisurely drive through the country?” She lifted a brow. “That’s what this is all about…a nice drive in the country?” “Yup.” “Yeah right,” she muttered as he checked the mirror again. Sighing, Alina turned her attention back to the fat file folder on her lap. It was stuffed full of reports related to all

the places Ivy, Landon, and the rest of the rogue shifters had supposedly been sighted. Dick had told her they were a slippery bunch, but she found it difficult to believe they could move from location to location as fast as the DCO agents trying to track them down claimed. It was like they’d put a map up on a wall somewhere and thrown darts at it. She flipped the page, frowning as she read over the various performance records of the operatives Dick had called “shifters.” To say it read like something out of a movie was putting it mildly. “Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it,” she told her new partner. “I’m not so sure I buy all this shifter crap. Dick made it seem like it was the real deal, but I gotta tell you, it sounds like BS to me.” “It’s real,” Trevor said. Alina waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Show me.” He slanted her a look. “Excuse me?” She closed the folder and tossed it in the backseat. “You’re supposed to be a shifter, right? So show me what the heck the big fuss is all about.” Trevor’s jaw flexed. “I’m not a trained monkey at the circus. I don’t do tricks.” Okay, maybe demanding he perform for her had been uncalled for. She would have said as much when she caught him checking the rearview mirror again. She wanted to ask him who he thought was following them but decided that would be a waste of time. Trevor obviously didn’t trust her enough to tell her what time of day it was, much less who

might be following them. That was okay, because she wasn’t sure she could trust him much either. It was one more thing that had her once again questioning her decision to leave the CIA. Taking a job in a classified department of Homeland Security she’d never heard of was bad enough, but chasing rogue government agents with a partner she didn’t know the first thing about and couldn’t trust was completely insane. But then she remembered how much she’d hated her job at the Agency. She’d gotten so burned out on the crappy work they’d had her doing lately it was a miracle she hadn’t gotten herself—or someone else—killed. That’s when she took a breath and told herself that while her first day at the DCO was going a little rocky, she’d made the right choice leaving the CIA. She probably should have done it a long time ago, right after Jodi and the rest of her team had been killed. “You okay?” Trevor asked suddenly as he drove down the tree-lined rural road. Alina looked at him, not sure where his question had come from. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged. “I don’t know, but your heart rate just shot through the roof, so I figured I should ask.” All she could do was stare at him in confusion, not sure what the hell he was talking about. “How do you know how fast my heart is beating?” “It’s a shifter thing,” he said casually, as if he were talking about the weather. “My hearing is good enough to pick up

the beating of your heart, and it’s going a little crazy about now.” She eyed him skeptically, wondering if he was messing with her. Dick had tried to explain the basics of the shifter genetics, but he’d made it sound like they were part animal. None of it made any sense to her. Now she wished she’d asked more questions. She and Dick had talked for quite a while about Trevor before he’d shown up for the meeting. While Dick hadn’t gone into great detail about what a shifter was, he’d told her repeatedly that she couldn’t trust Trevor and that there was a good chance her new partner was in league with the rogue DCO agents who’d murdered the previous director. After hearing that, she’d expected Wade’s double to walk through the door. But Trevor wasn’t anything like her old teammate—at least not physically. Wade had been average in every way possible. Trevor was anything but. He was tall and athletic with a wiry build and short, black hair that seemed to be in a permanent state of casual bedhead. Alina had met men who spent a lot of money to get their hair to look like that, but Trevor’s seemed to be completely natural. With lips that quirked constantly, a little scruff covering his jaw, and mischievous, hazel eyes, he seemed like a man who rarely took things very seriously. He’d definitely vexed the crap out of Dick, and even if he was supposed to have been part of a conspiracy to kill the former director, Alina had had a hard time keeping the smile off her face as he’d poked and prodded his boss.

By the time the meeting was over, she was ready to admit that Trevor was an attractive man with a nice body, an infectious grin, and a razor-sharp, wry sense of humor. While she had no idea what the shifter was about, she’d had a hard time seeing him as a traitorous, cold-blooded killer. Then again, she’d never seen a traitorous, cold-blooded killer when she used to look at Wade either, and he’d betrayed the entire team and killed Jodi in the most vicious manner he could. All in all, she was a crappy judge of character. “Your heart’s beating faster again,” Trevor murmured as he drove past the same gas station they’d passed twice already. “You sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine,” she snapped. Dammit, he was right. Her heart was thumping harder than normal. It always did when she thought about Wade. “I’m just going to toss this out there,” Trevor said. “But can I assume you’re nervous about being in a vehicle with someone like me?” Alina did a double take. “No, that’s not it at all. I don’t have a problem with you.” He arched a brow and gave her a look that said she was full of crap. “So you’re telling me your heart starts racing at random moments for the heck of it?” She opened her mouth to tell him it was none of his damn business, but closed it again. There was a good chance they could be walking into a dangerous situation when they got to wherever they were going. She’d rather not do that while in the middle of an argument. But she also wasn’t in the

habit of giving up personal info without getting anything in return. “Why should I tell you anything?” she demanded. “It’s not like you’ve been exactly forthcoming with me. You still haven’t told me where we’re going or what a shifter is. For all I know, you could be making up this stuff about being able to hear how fast my heart is beating.” Alina expected Trevor to say something suitably snarky, but he surprised her. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “We’re going to talk to a guy who lives in Bowling Green. He worked in IT at the DCO training complex and went into work two hours before his normal duty time on the day of the explosion.” “You think he was working with the rogue DCO agents who killed John Loughlin?” While the idea made sense, it wasn’t exactly in line with what he’d told Dick. “I think it’s possible the guy might have brought the bomb onto the complex,” Trevor said. Alina waited for him to say something else about the man, but he fell silent. That left her with a lot of questions, the first one being why no one had already talked to this guy. Surely, the people investigating the bombing would have done that right off the bat. More importantly, why had Trevor lied to his boss about where they were going and what they’d be doing? “You told the director you wanted to talk to some people who’d gotten into a scuffle with two men you thought might be the rogue agents,” she reminded him.

He glanced at the side mirror this time. “Yeah, I did.” There was a lot of stuff he wasn’t telling her, including who he thought was following them. She decided not to push on those two subjects…yet. He was talking, and she wanted to keep that going. Time to move on to a different topic and see what else he’d tell her. “Back to the shifter thing for a minute,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Dick said something about you having animal DNA, but that’s just an expression, right? Like when someone says a person is as mean as a junkyard dog or strong as an ox.” Trevor didn’t say anything for a long time, and Alina thought she’d pushed too far. “I’m a coyote shifter,” he finally said. “I have canine DNA mixed with my own. When I shift, I take on certain physical characteristics of a coyote.” All Alina could do was stare. What could she say to a man who’d just claimed to be part coyote? “Are you serious, or are you just messing with me?” she demanded. In answer, Trevor took one hand off the wheel and placed it on the center console between them. As she watched, his fingernails extended until they turned into five sharp claws almost an inch long and deadly looking as hell. Alina stared. It had to be a trick. She opened her mouth to ask how a human could possibly have claws but stopped cold as he turned to look at her with eyes that were glowing yellow and a pair of elongated canines protruding out over his lower lip.

Crap on a stick. She jerked back so hard, she almost snapped her neck, then immediately regretted her reaction at the flicker of disappointment that crossed his handsome face. Before she could say anything, the claws, fangs, and glowing eyes disappeared. Trevor put his hand back on the wheel and focused once again on the twisting, turning country road. “Enough about me,” he said casually, as if having long claws poking out from under his fingernails was an everyday occurrence for him. Hell, maybe it was. “Now that I’ve told you where we’re going and demonstrated the shifter stuff isn’t BS, let’s get back to you. Why was your heart beating so fast before?” Alina didn’t answer. She didn’t like confiding in a stranger, even if he was supposed to be her partner. But he’d answered her questions, so she supposed she owed him something. “A mission went wrong a couple of years ago in the CIA. I try hard not to think about it, because when I do, I get upset. That’s probably why you heard my heart racing.” She tried not thinking about the fact that her heart was probably racing all over again simply from making that confession, and she prayed he wouldn’t push for more details. “Are you wondering if you made a mistake getting out of the CIA?” he asked. Her first instinct was to say no. Then again, that was always her first instinct. But instead, she nodded.

“Yeah. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering that. But then I realize I did the right thing. It was time for me to leave,” she said. She looked out the passenger window, waiting with a slight sense of dread for his next question, the one where he asked her exactly why she’d left the Agency. Nothing had been the same after the operation in Turkey. In the immediate aftermath of the ambush that had killed her entire team, she’d been so furious that all she could do was think about spending the rest of her life hunting Wade down and making him pay. The need for revenge was like a fever that raged day and night. The Agency had done everything they could to help her find Wade at first. But after about a year of scouring the globe, the search had started to lose steam as other events took priority. The Agency moved Wade’s cold-blooded betrayal to the back burner, he was placed on a watch list with thousands of other high-value targets, and Alina was told to let it go. She hadn’t, and it had cost her. Initially, the Agency had allowed her to stay in the field, but over time, her fixation with finding the man who’d killed her team had made her coworkers and supervisors uncomfortable. They began to think she was unstable, obsessive, and a risk to other agents. To some degree, maybe she was. Because for a long time, all she cared about was getting revenge. Finally, the big shots at Langley had decided to put her zeal for catching traitors to good use and transferred her to the CIA’s version of Internal Affairs. Instead of chasing after

bad guys, she’d been chasing dirty agents. It wasn’t something an agent should ever be asked to do, and Alina had hated it. So when the director of the DCO had approached her out of the blue about a new job—one that included a promise to jump-start her search for Wade— she’d hadn’t even had to think about it. That brilliant move had gotten her a partner who had claws and glowing yellow eyes. Well, she’d wanted a chance to get out and do something different. From now on, maybe she should be more careful what she asked for. “You going to be able to focus on what we’re doing here?” Trevor asked, pulling her out of her reveries. Alina gave herself a shake and realized they were in the parking lot of a nice little apartment complex with welltrimmed hedges and perfectly manicured lawns. Around them, the other spaces were filled with electric cars. It wasn’t exactly a place that screamed “cold-blooded killer hideout.” “I’ll be fine,” she assured Trevor, then added, “assuming you’re actually planning to tell me what we’re doing here. Who’s this guy we’re looking for, and do you have anything linking him to the bombing besides the fact that he happened to come into work early that day?” If Trevor was involved with the people who’d murdered John Loughlin, why act like he was hunting down the killer? And if he wasn’t involved with the rogue agents and honestly wanted to find who’d done it, why was he so reluctant to talk to her?

“His name is Seth Larson,” Trevor said and shut off the engine. “The DCO brought him in to specialize in cybersecurity and data protection. Like I said before, he was hired three weeks before the bombing and quit two days later.” As if that explained it, Trevor opened his door and stepped out of the vehicle. Alina quickly unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out, practically running to catch up with him as he headed for the apartment building. “You do realize that when he started working at the DCO could easily be a coincidence, right?” she asked as she fell into step beside him. “And as far as quitting right after the bombing, I’m betting a lot of people bailed after that.” Alina took his silence as confirmation as they entered the building and climbed the stairs. “Do you have anything else on this guy?” she asked. “Some indication of a payment, a personal beef with Loughlin, a connection with the rogue agents who went on the run?” Trevor shook his head as he stopped in front of apartment 231. “Nothing like that. But Larson was previously employed by a man John had been trying to apprehend for years.” “What man?” “An extremely powerful man who has used other people to do his dirty work for years. As it happens, he’s also the same man who got Seth Larson the job at the DCO.” That didn’t tell her much. And while Trevor appeared to be searching for the bomber, he didn’t seem to be trying to

find any of the rogue agents. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but before she got a chance, he reached out and pushed the doorbell. He immediately followed that up with a few knocks that were louder than the bell. The door was jerked open so fast, Alina automatically reached for the sidearm on her hip but stopped at the last second at the sight of a young guy in jeans and a T-shirt with wire-rimmed glasses and at least three days of stubble on his face, a little blond boy standing behind him. “I heard the bell,” the man said, clearly pissed off. “You didn’t have to knock, too.” Trevor frowned and opened his month to say something no doubt abrupt and snark filled, but his words were cut off by a soft, frightened voice. “Daddy, do you have to go away again?” Larson glanced over his shoulder at his son. The little boy, who couldn’t have been more than eight, was close to tears. “No, Cody. Daddy’s not going anywhere. I’m just talking to some old friends.” Cody moved closer, studying her and Trevor, his blue eyes curious. “Friends?” Larson looked at them, a pleading expression on his face. “You two are friends, right?” Alina smiled at Cody. “Yes, we’re friends of your dad. We worked with him a little while ago.” That seemed to satisfy the little boy, who turned without another word and headed back into the living room. When he was out of earshot, Seth Larson frowned at them.

“I don’t remember seeing either of you from the time I was at the DCO, but I’m guessing that’s where you know me from,” he said. “Yes,” Trevor said, his tone softer than Alina would have expected. “I’m Trevor Maxwell, and this is my partner, Alina Bosch. We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about the morning the bombing happened.” Larson threw a quick glance at his son, as if he was afraid Cody might have heard, but Cody was lying on the floor coloring and didn’t even look up. “Sure, I can talk. Just… don’t use that word—bomb. I don’t think Cody knows what it means, and I really don’t want him to. He’s autistic, and sometimes he gets upset easily.” Alina nodded. Beside her, Trevor did the same. Larson led them into the small, tidy apartment, past an eatin kitchen, and into the living room. There was a couch against one wall, with a TV and bookshelves opposite it. A fancy computer sat on the coffee table, some kind of accounting spreadsheet showing on the screen, but Alina barely took notice of any of it. Cody was far more fascinating. Spread out on the floor around him must have been nearly a hundred completed pictures torn out of coloring books. Every one of them was absolutely amazing. While the colors were unusual—trees in blues and purples, people in every shade of the rainbow, skies in yellow with orange clouds—there wasn’t a single crayon mark out of place or outside the lines. In a word, they were breathtaking. Seemingly oblivious to them, Cody finished the picture he

was working on, then carefully pulled it out of the book and set it aside before starting the next one. Larson motioned them toward the couch. “You two want a soda…or water? Sorry, but that’s all I have in the house.” Alina shook her head as she sat. “No, I’m good.” Trevor declined the offer as well, moving carefully around the pictures on the floor as he grabbed a place beside her on the couch and pulled out a pen and spiral notepad from a cargo pocket. Larson sat down on the floor with Cody, making sure to move his son’s artwork aside first. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised no one stopped by before this,” he said. That confirmed what Alina had thought. It shocked the heck out of her at the same time. She was an agent, not a cop, but talking to every single person who’d been in the complex at the time of the bombing seemed like common sense. “On the day of the…incident…you showed up for work two and a half hours before your normal duty time,” Trevor said. “Mind if I ask why?” Larson’s gaze went to his son, a smile curving his mouth. “I went in early so I could grab a few hours before Cody got out of bed. He loves his grandma—she watches him for me when I’m at work—but he can be a handful sometimes.” He frowned at them. “My boss—Lisa Marino—said it was okay. I’m sure she’ll confirm that if you ask her.” Beside her, Trevor visibly relaxed. “Lisa left the DCO two weeks ago. I’ll try to get in contact with her, but that could take a while.”

“How about Karl Thomas? Is he still there?” Larson asked. “He knew about me going in early.” Trevor nodded. “I think he’s still there. I’ll check.” Larson looked at Cody again, his expression thoughtful this time. “I guess a lot of people left after what happened.” “Is that why you quit when you did?” Alina asked. “Because of the…incident?” Larson was silent for a moment as he watched his son color. Tears formed in his eyes, and he blinked. “I had to,” he said, turning back to them. “I loved the work, and the people there were amazing, but the hours were already getting tough on Cody…and his grandma. Trying to go to work early might have helped a little, but a full day at work was still too long to be away from him. When the other stuff happened, I realized that if I’d walked past the admin building forty-five minutes later to get that cup of coffee from the cafeteria, I could have been caught up in…in everything that happened. Then Cody wouldn’t have anyone. I couldn’t take that risk.” “How long have you been taking care of Cody on your own?” Trevor asked. “About a year,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I guess Kristy just couldn’t deal anymore. She bailed one day while I was at work. I was mad at her for a long time, but I finally gave up on that. I know now that she did the best she could.” Alina glanced at Cody to see if he’d react to the mention of his mother, but he continued to color like he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Do you stay home with him full-time?” she asked Larson. Larson nodded. “Pretty much. Like I said, my mom comes over to take care of him now and then, but he doesn’t like me to be out of his sight for long.” He gestured to the laptop on the coffee table. “I do a little consulting work long distance to help pay the bills, but it’s tough. I really thought I’d struck gold landing that job with the DCO.” Alina remembered thinking something very similar when Dick had offered her a job there. That reminded her of what Trevor had said before they’d knocked on the door, about there being an extremely powerful man involved in getting Larson hired at the DCO. “Can I ask how you heard about the job at the DCO?” she asked Larson. “I’d done some work for a subsidiary of Chadwick-Thorn back before Kristy left, then some consulting work in April for the main corporate office over near Anacostia-Bolling, installing and networking a fancy security system,” Larson said. “While I was there, I got the opportunity to meet with Thomas Thorn, and after the security gig was done, he offered me an IT job at the DCO. It had everything I was looking for—good hours, great pay, amazing medical benefits, challenging work. It was mostly internal security stuff like monitoring DCO employees to make sure none of them were inadvertently sending classified material over unclassified computer systems. Things like that.” Interesting. Was Thomas Thorn the man Trevor had been talking about? The one John Loughlin had been trying to

put in jail for years? If so, no wonder Trevor hadn’t wanted to say anything. The previous director of the DCO had been chasing a man who was not only the CEO of one of the biggest and most politically connected defense contractors in the world, but also a former senator? There was something scary big going on here. She was still thinking about that interesting tidbit of information when she realized Trevor was asking something else. Alina forced herself to focus on what her partner was saying. “You mentioned that you were near the admin building forty-five minutes before the…incident…getting coffee. Did you see anyone else around at that time?” Larson thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it was still dark at that time, but I saw three or four people around the main building.” “Did you recognize them?” Trevor asked. “I hadn’t worked there long enough to learn almost anyone’s name outside the IT section,” the man said. “Sorry.” Trevor frowned, but Alina wasn’t ready to walk away from the potential clue just yet. “Do you think you could ID the people you saw if we gave you some photos to look through?” “Yeah, I guess,” Larson said. “But do you think you can bring the photos here or email them to me so I don’t have to leave Cody with my mom?” “Of course,” she agreed. While Alina added his name and email to the contact list

in her phone, Trevor scribbled something in his notepad. She thought he was writing down notes on what they’d talked about, but then he tore the paper out of the pad and held it out to Larson. “Give this guy a call in a few days,” Trevor said. “I think he can set you up with some IT work you can do from home. Tell him I sent you. I put my number on there, too, just in case you need anything.” Alina glanced at Larson’s little boy as she stood. “Bye, Cody.” Since Cody didn’t look up from his coloring book, she thought he hadn’t heard her, but just as she and Trevor followed Larson to the front door, the boy jumped up and ran over with one of the pictures he’d made. When he held it out to her, she saw it was the one he’d been working on when she and Trevor had first gotten there, the one with the yellow sky and the orange clouds. She took it very carefully. “Is this for me?” she asked. Cody didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned and went back to his coloring book, starting another page. “Thank you,” she said, but he was already lost in his work. She glanced at Trevor as they headed outside to their SUV. “What was that all about?” He pushed the button on the key fob to unlock the doors. “What was what all about?” “That number you gave Larson. Do you always give suspects the name and number of prospective employers?” Trevor shrugged. “I think it’s obvious that guy isn’t a suspect. He’s just someone who might have seen something.

Besides, he could use a little help.” Alina couldn’t argue with any of those things. “It was a nice thing to do.” He only grunted in answer. They didn’t talk much as they headed north on Highway 2 back toward Fredericksburg and the interstate. It wasn’t dark yet, but the sun was low on the horizon. It would be nightfall by the time they got back to the DCO complex. As the last few beams of the sun’s light slipped through the trees lining the road, Alina replayed the day’s events. To say she was confused about everything she’d seen and learned was an understatement. Her new partner wasn’t anything like Dick had described. Other than the fact that he was very closed-mouth when it came to sharing information, Trevor seemed like an okay guy. Well, there were the fangs, claws, and glowing gold eyes. Those were going to take a while to get used to. Even so, she wasn’t ready to brand him the traitor the director of the DCO claimed him to be—yet.

Chapter 3 “Keep your eyes closed and just relax.” Tanner Howland frowned even as he said the words. He wasn’t sure he was the best person to help another hybrid get a handle on their inner animal, especially since he was still trying to figure it out most of the time himself, but Sage Andrews, the woman the DCO had rescued from a lab in Tajikistan a while back, was in a really bad way. Besides, he couldn’t say no to anything Zarina Sokolov asked him to do. Meeting the beautiful Russian doctor had been the only bright spot in his dark existence since he’d been captured and turned into a beast over a year ago. If not for her, he probably wouldn’t even be alive right now. He, Zarina, and Sage sat on the floor in the small living room of Sage’s dorm room/prison cell on the DCO complex while two armed men stood guard outside the door. “That’s it,” he said. “Breathe in and out, nice and slowly.” As Sage inhaled and exhaled, Tanner looked for any sign that the beast inside her might take over and she was about

to lose it. Beside him, Zarina did the same. He would have preferred her to watch this exercise from farther away, like on a closed-circuit television in another room. But Zarina insisted she needed to be close in case Sage lost control. When he’d tried to argue, Zarina had folded her arms—a sure sign he wasn’t going to change her mind no matter what he said. “Who taught you how to control your inner beast?” she asked. “Me, that’s who.” But while that was true, Tanner didn’t like the idea of Zarina putting herself at risk. He’d been watching out for her ever since she’d saved his life in Washington State after a pair of psycho doctors had injected him with a serum that turned him into a hybrid like Sage. He wasn’t about to stop now. Across from him, Sage’s brow knit, like she was fighting for control. Tanner tensed, but after a moment, she relaxed again. While he’d had more than his share of episodes since being turned into a hybrid, sometimes it seemed like Sage was more beast than human. If there was any doubt of that, all a person had to do was take a look at Sage’s living arrangements, and the truth was obvious. Since she was prone to violence, staying in one of the normal dorm rooms like he did was out of the question, so John Loughlin had turned one of the outbuildings into a small efficiency apartment of sorts. Her bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room took up the back half of the building while the front was part medical facility, part guard station. In between the front and back sections was a wall of steel bars as thick and heavy as anything you’d

expect to see in a real prison. It wasn’t the nicest way to treat a woman who’d never asked for any of this to happen to her, and Tanner hated it more than anyone, but there wasn’t anything else they could do. Sage gave in to her animal rages once every few days. The deep scratches along the walls and floors were a testament to that. A petite, slender girl with long, wavy, dark hair and expressive gray eyes, she looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. But when the animal inside took over, Sage turned into something extremely dangerous. That was why Dick kept two armed guards there 24-7. Currently, both men were standing outside the steel bars of Sage’s cell watching them, disdain on their faces. They both hated and feared Sage. The only reason they treated her halfway decently at all was because the DCO might be able to use her later. That said, the thought of Sage escaping and going on a rampage through the training complex terrified the new director. Honestly, it terrified Tanner, too. If she got out of here, it would be up to him to stop her, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop a raging hybrid without losing control of his own inner animal. “We’re going to do the door exercise again, Sage,” he said quietly. “Just like we’ve been doing for the past few weeks, okay?” Sage gently wrapped her graceful fingers around the silver cross on a chain around her neck, her lips moving in a silent prayer. She’d told Tanner that she had grown up in a very religious family and that her father was a pastor of a church

back in her hometown. In fact, the first things she’d asked for after she’d calmed down enough to talk to anyone were a cross and a Bible. After a few moments, Sage nodded, letting him know she was ready. “I want you to imagine that you’re standing in front of a door in a dimly lit room. It can be any kind of door you want. It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s something you can easily remember.” She frowned, then relaxed again. “Do you have the door set in your mind?” Tanner asked. “Yes,” she said, the tips of her fangs clearly visible. “Relax, Sage,” he said softly. “We’re in no rush. Take a minute and center yourself. Concentrate on the door as you breathe in and out.” That was the thing with Sage. All it took was a word or a noise or a bad memory, and the beast was off and running. “Can you describe the door for me?” he asked. Sage nodded. “It’s a white door with a pink unicorn handpainted in the middle like the one to my sister’s bedroom. I can see it so clearly I feel like I can reach out and touch it.” Tanner glanced at Zarina. She looked just as concerned as he was about Sage’s choice of imaginary doors. This wasn’t the one Sage usually described. He didn’t know much in the way of details when it came to what Sage had been through during her captivity, because she refused to talk about it, but he was almost certain she’d watched her younger sister die a painful, horrible death as a result of being injected with a previous version of the

hybrid serum. Focusing on her late sister’s bedroom door probably wasn’t a good idea for a hybrid who wanted to stay in control, but there wasn’t anything Tanner could do about it now. With the image already in her head, there was no way Sage would be able to forget it, even if she wanted to. “That’s good, Sage,” he told her. “Remember that on your side of the door, you have a handle that you can open or close. On the other side, there is no handle. That’s where the beast is. It can’t get through the door unless you open it. You’re in charge, okay?” Sage nodded. “Can you feel the beast on the other side of the door?” he asked. “Yes,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around the cross. “It’s always there.” “It’s okay,” he said soothingly “You’re in control. And to prove that, I want you to open the door a crack.” Sage tensed visibly but kept her eyes closed. “I thought you were going to show me how to keep it locked away forever?” “That’s not something I can do,” he said. “You need to learn how to get the beast under control.” “I can’t,” she said brokenly. “Yes, you can.” Sage chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe we should wait until Derek is here.” Staff Sergeant Derek Mickens was the Special Forces soldier who had risked his life to save her from a burning building in Tajikistan. She only seemed truly in control of

her animal side when she was with him or even talking to him on the phone. But Derek was deployed more than he was home, and he couldn’t be around as much Sage needed him. Even calling regularly could be difficult as hell for him. “Sage, you need to learn how to do this on your own,” Tanner said gently. “Derek can’t be with you all the time. Now that he’s on deployment, he might not be back for a long time.” Tanner realized he shouldn’t have said that the moment the words were out of his mouth, but by then, it was too late to do anything about it. Sage’s heart rate spiked immediately, and her body went as rigid as if she’d been hit with a live electrical wire. Oh shit. She was going into full hybrid mode. “Zarina, get out of here!” he ordered, jumping up. Across from him, Sage did the same, claws out and eyes glowing bloodred. “I can help,” Zarina insisted, getting to her feet. “Get out,” he growled. “Now!” He hadn’t intended the words to come out that way, but knowing Zarina was trapped with him in a prison cell with an out-of-control hybrid made his control slip a little. Zarina looked like she wanted to argue but then turned and ran for the door. Tanner expected the guard to immediately jerk open the door, but when he glanced that way, the man was still fumbling with the keys on the ring, searching for the right one. “Open the door, dammit!” Tanner shouted.

A flash of movement coupled with a growl had Tanner spinning around to see Sage rushing toward him, her curved claws ready to slash him to ribbons. Tanner tried to stay in control, tried to let just enough of the animal out to allow his feline reflexes to kick in, but with Zarina still in danger, that control slipped away like sand through his fingers. Claws and fangs coming out, he blocked Sage’s right arm, then shoved her back, knowing he had to put some distance between them before he shifted all the way and lost complete control. Sage charged at him again, rage filling her glowing red eyes as she yowled in frustration. While she would probably never hurt him, the beast in charge at the moment sure as hell wanted to. He blocked another slash, fighting the urge to strike back. If he landed a blow with his larger claws, he’d tear the smaller woman nearly in half. Instead, he reached deep down and found the control to retract his claws. Sage blinked at him, like she was almost as shocked as he was that he’d done it. He thought for a moment the move would be enough to get her to calm down and back off. But then something behind him caught Sage’s attention, and her eyes went feral again. Tanner glanced over his shoulder, and his heart lurched. Both guards had come into the cell, one holding a Taser, the other a dart gun that Tanner knew was loaded with a sedative. The only problem was that the idiots had left the cell door open behind them. If Sage got past the men, she’d be through it in a flash. Then the only thing standing

between her and freedom would be Zarina. Zarina, heaven help her, was standing resolutely in the open doorway like she thought she could stop Sage by sheer willpower. As Sage poised to leap at the guards, the guy with the Taser froze, while the one with the dart gun was shaking so much it looked like he was about to wet his pants. Sage was going to get through those two before they could blink. Then she’d be on Zarina. Fury overwhelmed Tanner like a tidal wave. One moment, he was standing there, wondering what the best move would be. The next, he’d shifted completely and let out a roar loud enough to shake the walls. Claws extended to their full length, he went for Sage. She backpedaled, the red glow disappearing from her eyes. At the same time, Dart Guy dropped his weapon and really did piss himself, while Taser Man jerked back and fired his stun weapon into the ceiling, burying the high-voltage electrodes in the soft acoustic tiles. Sage ran for her bedroom, sobs tearing from her throat instead of growls, while both men made a beeline for the cell door. Zarina ran past Tanner, hurrying after Sage before he could stop her. Now that Sage was back in charge of her body, all she’d be interested in doing was hiding away from the rest of humanity in horror and shame. Tanner knew what it felt like to lose control, especially in front of people you considered friends. Hopefully Zarina could console Sage and remind her that she’d done well—right up until Tanner

had slipped up and mentioned Derek. He took a deep breath and got himself under control. A few moments later, his fangs and claws retracted, leaving him feeling drained and weary. Outside the cell, the two guards stared at him in revulsion. Abruptly realizing he was aware of their attention, the men turned and headed outside. But the distance wasn’t great enough to prevent him from hearing what they said to each other, especially the part where they muttered about having to babysit those damn freaks. Those two might have been total d-bags, but it still reminded Tanner that in the eyes of most of the people left at the DCO, he and Sage were little better than poorly behaved animals. It made him wonder how much longer Dick would tolerate their presence.

*** Tanner was still sitting on one of the benches overlooking the obstacle course when Zarina finally came out of Sage’s cell an hour later. He’d spent the time thinking about all the ways the situation in Sage’s holding cell could have gone wrong—and there were a lot of them. Worst among them wasn’t the possibility of Sage getting past those guards but the fact that he might have been the one who put the men down—right before he lashed out at Zarina. The thought chilled him to the core. Zarina walked over to join him, sitting down on the wooden bench with a sigh. Some of her long, wavy, blond hair had come loose from its bun to hang down around her

face, and it was all he could do not to reach out and gently take the silky strands between his fingers. “How’s Sage doing?” he asked. “She feels horrible. But at least she’s not sobbing uncontrollably now,” Zarina said. “I told her that she did very well on the exercise, but she’s still upset she lost control and attacked you.” He shrugged. “She got her animal side back under control pretty fast.” Zarina pinned him with a look. “You know that’s not true, and so does she. Sage only gained control because you roared at her. If not for that, she would have tried to attack those two guards and probably me, too. She’s terrified she might kill someone while her animal side is in control.” Tanner didn’t say anything. He knew exactly how Sage felt. He was afraid of the same thing. “It’s so strange to see the obstacle course completely empty,” Zarina said in that soft, beautiful accent of hers. “It’s like this place is falling apart in front of our eyes.” Tanner couldn’t help but think that there was more to Zarina’s words than the literal interpretation. While the facilities were already showing signs of neglect, it was like the soul of the DCO was rotting away from the inside out as more and more good people left to be replaced with dirtbags. Soon, there’d be nothing left to show for all the work John had put into this place. Over a decade of hard work gone in the blink of an eye. “The new teams don’t do a lot of training,” Tanner said. Zarina let out a delicate snort. “The new teams don’t do

anything but sit around and eat. And the only time they leave the complex is to go traipsing off to some far corner of the world chasing after Ivy and Landon or one of the other teams. If Dick and Thorn knew just how close they really are to the DCO complex, they’d go crazy.” Tanner chuckled. She was right. Dick in particular would pass out if he knew that almost all the shifter teams were hiding less than two hours away from the Washington, DC, area. “Speaking of Ivy and the others,” Zarina said, glancing at him, “do you think you’ll be seeing Kendra and Declan anytime soon?” Kendra MacBride and her bear shifter husband were expecting twins any day now, so it wasn’t really the best time to be on the run. Tanner looked around before answering. He doubted anyone could have snuck up on them without him knowing, but he checked anyway. “I won’t risk going to see them. Not unless they call me, which I doubt they will.” Zarina frowned. “I’d feel a whole lot better if I could give Kendra a checkup myself. She’s a week past her due date already. I should be with her.” Tanner sighed. Zarina still wasn’t thrilled that he was the only person in the DCO to know where Landon, Ivy, and the rest of the fugitives were hiding. Or that he was the only one who’d gone to see them. She knew they were somewhere close by, figuring out the amount of time Tanner had been gone the last time he’d taken Kendra something to help her deal with muscle spasms related to her overdue pregnancy.

“You know that isn’t possible,” Tanner said as gently as he could. “They’re watching you too closely. While you’re an amazing woman, you’re not a covert agent. Thorn’s people would find you.” It was Zarina’s turn to sigh. “I know. It’s just hard thinking about Kendra and the others being out there on their own. I hate that Thorn’s goons are always following me.” Zarina wasn’t the only one being watched. Thorn had people following some of the other DCO employees as well, including Trevor. The coyote shifter was under almost constant surveillance. Fortunately, Dick and Thorn ignored Tanner. For whatever reason, they considered him nothing more than a dumb animal, too out of control to be trusted to do anything covert or complicated. That was fine with him, since being invisible made it easy to slip away and get messages to his friends whenever Dick was closing in on them. It also made it simple to snoop around Dick’s office, talk to his secretary, and listen in on private conversations that people had no idea he could hear so he could figure out what the hell Dick and Thorn were up to. With John out of the way, Thorn would be making his big move, but no one had a clue what it was. “Can you at least tell me if Ivy is with Kendra?” Zarina asked. “If Kendra goes into labor without a doctor there, I’d feel a lot better if Ivy were around to help.” Tanner shook his head. “You know I can’t tell you anything. It’s safer for everyone if you don’t know.” She made a face at him, sticking out her tongue. He

chuckled, unable to help himself. Clearly, living in the United States was having a profound effect on her. She would never have done anything like that when she’d first arrived here. “Why?” she demanded, her blue eyes flashing. “Because Adam says it is? What do we even know about this guy? Hell, he doesn’t even have a last name! He popped up as a voice on the end of the phone a couple of days after John died, and we all did exactly what he told us to do. How do we know we can trust him?” Zarina was only echoing what Tanner had thought the first time the mysterious shifter named Adam had called. He’d given Landon, Ivy, and the others places to hide, new identities, money, and even burner phones Tanner used to keep in contact with them. “We know we can trust him because Landon and Ivy trust him,” Tanner said. “According to them, Adam had been working behind the scenes with John for years trying to find something to pin on Thorn. Adam hasn’t done anything to steer us wrong yet.” Zarina’s mouth tightened. “So Ivy and Kendra aren’t together?” Tanner lifted a brow but didn’t answer. Zarina rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the obstacle course again. The funny thing was that Zarina was right. The DCO agents had split into three groups and were hiding out at separate locations. Ivy and Landon weren’t with Kendra and Declan.

“Are you going to tell me what happened in there?” Zarina asked after a moment. “I haven’t seen you lose it like that in a long time.” That was only because she hadn’t been in Costa Rica when he’d completely gone animal during a rescue mission and had run off into the forest like a lunatic. When his team found him, they’d had to tackle him, then practically sit on him for thirty minutes until his rage subsided. Since then, Tanner had thought he had his inner animal well in hand. Now, he realized any semblance of control he’d been experiencing was nothing more than an illusion. The moment he’d thought Zarina was in danger, he’d completely lost it. Even now, he could feel the beast in the back of his mind, prowling around, looking for a way to slip out again. It was like the thing had been encouraged by that minor bout of freedom. “Sometimes I imagine this is what an alcoholic or drug addict must feel like,” he said softly, staring down at the grass in front of their bench. “Knowing that there’s this monster inside you, ready to slip out and attack the second you give it a chance.” “You’re not an alcoholic or an addict,” Zarina said firmly. “You were given a serum that made drastic changes to your DNA and your hindbrain, which is the part that controls our most primitive functions, including survival instincts, aggression, and your fight-or-flight response. That’s why you sometimes lose control in stressful situations.” He appreciated how Zarina always tried to make it seem as if all his issues were related to the hybrid serum he’d

been given, but they both knew it was more than that. He’d already been a basket case long before he’d been given those drugs. The rage issues, memory blackouts, and panic attacks had started somewhere between his fourth and fifth deployment in the army and had only gotten worse once he was out of the Rangers. That was why he’d been living alone in the woods of Washington State to begin with. So he wouldn’t lose it and hurt someone. When he didn’t say anything, Zarina reached out and rested her hand on his jaw, turning him to look at her. “Tanner, the things that are happening to you aren’t your fault. But you’re dealing with them. We’re dealing with them.” The touch of her hand on his face was enough to warm his whole body, and it was all he could do not to turn ever so slightly and press a kiss to her palm. He wished he could tell Zarina exactly how he felt about her, because right now, he was happier than he’d ever been in his life. But it would have been unfair to tell her that he loved her, then in the next breath admit he was almost going to have to walk away from her. “Sometimes I think it would be better if I went back to the forests where you found me,” he said quietly. “So I could get away from all of it.” Zarina looked confused at first, but then an expression of overwhelming pain filled her eyes. “Away from me?” Seeing the sorrow on her face hurt him worse than anything he’d ever experienced, even the searing agony he’d felt as the hybrid drug had first burned through his

bloodstream all those months ago, tearing his DNA apart from the inside out. He loved her more than his own life. Which was why what he was doing felt so completely right. He gently trailed his hand over her cheek. This was the first time he’d touched Zarina like this, and it almost took his breath away. “Away from you more than anyone,” he said. “I’d die if I ever lost control and hurt you.” “You’d never hurt me.” “You can’t be sure of that.” “I am sure. Tanner, I’m close to finding a cure.” She reached up to grab his hand and squeeze it tight. “The serum I gave Jayson wasn’t perfect, but it counteracted the effects of the crap Dick gave him. All I need is a little more time, and it will be ready.” “You’ve been working on that antiserum for almost a year and a half,” he pointed out. “You might be close, or you could be another year or two away.” She shifted on the bench so she could face him squarely, shaking her head vigorously. “It won’t take that long. I’m sure of it. You have to promise you won’t leave before I have a chance to finish it.” That wasn’t a promise he could make. He had no idea when he was going to leave, since he still needed to help Sage, but he couldn’t ignore the risk he posed to Zarina and the other people around him. At some point, he’d lose control at the wrong time, and someone he cared about would pay the price. He refused to stay here and let that

happen. But before he could tell Zarina that, she suddenly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. He froze, shocked by the move. But after a moment, he enfolded her in a hug. “Don’t answer right now,” she whispered. “Just think about it for a while…before you do anything.” Tanner closed his eyes, holding her like he’d wanted to for so long, torn that it couldn’t always be like this. But he wasn’t the man Zarina needed in her life. At some point, she was going to have to figure that out.

Chapter 4 Alina stepped out of the shower and absently dried off with the fluffy towel she took from the rack as she tried to figure out what was going on with Thomas Thorn. She’d found it strange enough that the man had been lurking during her initial interview with Dick Coleman, but now that his name had shown up in connection with the bombing, she had no idea what to think. Tossing the towel in the hamper, she slipped into her standard bum-around-the-house-and-chill-out clothes— yoga pants, a tank top, and a cardigan. Considering it was summertime, she didn’t really need the sweater, but cardigans were soft and cozy, and she liked wearing them regardless of what time of year it was. Forgetting about work wasn’t really an option right now, though. As she walked through the living room and into the kitchen, she went over everything she knew about Thomas Thorn, which wasn’t a lot. Not that there was a reason she should know much about the man. She’d spent the past twelve years of her life buried in the CIA, where she’d

focused on international threats—and Wade. She’d never been interested in DC politics. Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d voted. Even so, she knew the obvious stuff. Thorn had been a senator up until a couple of years ago, when he’d stepped down to run his international defense corporation. He was filthy rich, owned more homes than she did shoes, and still wielded a tremendous amount of influence within political circles. She was also fairly certain he could have stepped into almost any executive-level job in the government if he’d wanted. Heck, she could see some president tapping him to be secretary of defense in a heartbeat. He was that well connected. Which begged the question as to why he’d been there that morning when she’d talked to Dick. From the looks the director had thrown Thorn’s way, it was obvious he had some influence within the DCO. Why a man as powerful as Thorn would bother getting involved in a small covert organization that no one else in the world had ever heard of didn’t make a lot of sense to her. Then there was the stuff Trevor had said about the former DCO director attempting to send Thorn to prison. Her new partner had implied it was the real reason behind the bombing that had killed John Loughlin. That was a pretty serious claim, and she would have appreciated Trevor getting into the details. Unfortunately, he’d refused to discuss the subject. She’d spent a good portion of the drive up from Bowling Green badgering him for information, and all she’d learned was that her new

partner couldn’t be badgered. She hadn’t been ignored like that since she was an awkward teen in high school. Crap, Trevor could be irritating as hell when he wanted to be. She walked over to the island in the kitchen and picked up the picture Cody had made. She couldn’t help smiling. It was sweet of him to give it to her. On impulse, she walked over to the stainless steel fridge and moved a few takeout order magnets around until she’d made a space for the picture, then used the magnets to hold it in place. She stepped back and admired it. The picture definitely brightened up her rather drab kitchen. Then again, she hadn’t known her kitchen was drab until she’d put Cody’s picture up. Alina suddenly found herself thinking about how her life would have been different if she’d turned left instead of right after college and gotten a normal, ho-hum job, met a nice guy, settled down, and had kids. She laughed at how crazy that was. Even though she’d had this apartment in Del Ray for years, she typically never spent more than a week or two there at a time. She’d spent most of her time traveling around the world, sleeping in hotels, on planes, and in the backseats of cars while surveilling targets of interest. The biggest factor in renting in Del Ray was because it was so close to Reagan National. If she was going to spend half her life at the airport, she might as well live close to it. The notion that things could have been different, that she could have been a wife and a soccer mom with two-pointthree kids and a minivan was fun to imagine. Looking at

Cody’s picture on the fridge, she wondered if she’d be the kind of mother who’d keep kids’ artwork taped all over her kitchen. Probably. She was just digging through the freezer for a frozen pizza that wasn’t encased in frost older than the last ice age when she heard a quick knock immediately followed by the sound of the door opening, then the scrabble of doggy nails on the hardwood floor. “You decent in there?” her friend Kathy McGee called as Molly bounded into the kitchen with a silly grin on her face. “Yeah,” Alina called. “In the kitchen.” Dropping to her knees, she gave her beautiful baby a big hug. Molly was a blue heeler cattle dog she’d rescued during a snowstorm five years ago. It was probably crazy for a woman doing fieldwork for the CIA to have brought in a stray, but there was no way in hell she was going to let the dog freeze to death. And once Molly had gotten comfortable in her apartment, it hadn’t seemed right to give her to someone else. Fortunately, her next-door neighbor Kathy had offered to babysit Molly anytime Alina needed. “How’re you doing, girl?” She playfully ruffled Molly’s long ears, then ran her hands through the short fur covering the dog’s flanks. “Did you have a good time with Kathy today? Did you behave yourself and play nice with Katelyn?” Katelyn was Kathy’s cat and, against all rational explanation, Molly’s favorite playmate. Which worked out well, considering how much time Molly spent in Kathy’s place.

Her dark-haired friend came into the kitchen and leaned one shoulder against the wall but didn’t try to interrupt the happy reunion, which pretty much went the same way regardless of how long Alina had been away. Kathy’s presence didn’t stop Alina from talking to Molly like she was a two-year-old. “Did you miss your mommy?” she said in her best baby voice. Molly let out a soft bark, then butted her head into Alina’s hands, demanding more attention and pets. Alina couldn’t help but laugh. Then again, that’s what dogs were all about. They made you happy. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” Molly let out another soft bark. She wasn’t a noisy dog, but she always got talkative when Alina got all goofy. Alina had a sudden vision of Trevor watching her kneeling down on the floor, talking like this. He’d probably think she was a big dope. “Molly wanted to come right over and find out how your first day on the new job went, but I told her she had to wait until you had a chance to clean up and relax a little,” Kathy said. Alina gave Molly one last pat on the head, then stood. “Oh, so Molly’s the one who’s all eager to hear about my first day at the office, huh?” Kathy smiled and nodded, her blue-green eyes teasing behind her glasses. “Definitely. But if you’re going to tell her about it, I guess I can hang around and listen in, too.” Alina gave up on the idea of nuking a frozen pizza and

instead grabbed a box of Cheerios from the cabinet, a carton of milk from the fridge, and a bowl and spoon, then headed into the living room with Kathy following close behind. “So tell me! How was your first day?” Kathy asked eagerly, kicking off her slippers and getting comfy on the couch. Alina almost laughed at the excitement in her friend’s voice but restrained herself. Kathy worked from home selling socks on the Internet and often said she lived vicariously through Alina’s covert adventures. Kathy was more than a next-door neighbor and her best friend. She was Alina’s confidante, the only person she’d ever been able to talk to about her life in the CIA. She’d never told her friend anything classified of course, but Kathy was familiar with the stuff that had happened to Jodi and the other members of Alina’s team. She’d also known how much Alina had come to dislike her job at the Agency. In fact, Kathy had been the one to convince her to accept the DCO’s job offer. Molly hopped up between them on the couch and did a few circles before lying down with her head near Alina’s hip. The dog immediately closed her eyes and went to sleep, happy as a clam now that she was with her mommy. Alina dumped some cereal into the bowl, then added milk. “If I had to sum today up in one word, I guess that word would be…interesting.” Kathy tucked her sock-covered feet underneath her. “Okay, interesting is a good start. Tell me everything— starting with what your new partner is like. You did meet

whoever it is today, right? Is it a man or a woman? Or are you part of a team with several hunky guys? Please tell me that’s it.” Alina did laugh this time. Kathy could be a bit melodramatic. “Yes, I met my partner. His name is Trevor Maxwell.” Kathy leaned forward expectantly. “And?” “And what?” Alina knew exactly what Kathy was asking but figured she should make her friend work for it a little bit. Kathy glared at her. “Don’t even try it. You know exactly what I’m talking about. What’s he like? Is he nice, goodlooking, well built…married?” Alina shook her head. “Kathy, he’s my partner.” Her friend made a face. “Seriously? I sit at home all day looking at socks on the Internet, and you think I’m going to let you get away with that nonanswer? I’m not buying it. Spill!” Alina laughed. “Okay, okay. I admit, I may have noticed that Trevor is attractive. He has dark hair that seemed permanently tousled and dark eyes. He’s maybe a year or two older than I am, isn’t married that I know of, and is funny in that sarcastic, dry-wit sort of way. Oh, and he’s definitely tall and well built.” “How tall and how built?” Kathy asked. Alina shrugged. “Six four, two hundred and twenty pounds maybe.” “Whoa.” Kathy’s brows rose. “He sounds hot.” Alina didn’t say anything as she spooned cereal into her

mouth. She couldn’t help wondering what her friend would think if she knew Trevor had claws and fangs. “So I’m guessing you two hit it right off?” Alina grimaced. “Unfortunately, no.” “Really? Why not? Did you two get into a fight or something?” Alina shook her head. “I wish it was as simple as that. But I don’t think you can consider a complete lack of trust in each other a fight.” In between eating, Alina described her first day at the DCO, starting with the meeting she’d had with her boss. “The man flat-out told me Trevor was involved with the murder of the organization’s previous director,” she said. “He as much as said the reason he hired me was because he thought I’d be able to dig out the traitors behind the conspiracy—Trevor being at the top of the list of suspects. My boss wants me to spy on my own partner the first day on the job.” Kathy didn’t bat an eye at talk of murder and spying. She’d listened to Alina talk for so long that stuff like this was old hat to her. But she did grimace at the fact that the DCO was asking Alina to do the very thing that had made her quit the Agency. “I don’t remember you mentioning this as part of the job description when I suggested you take this job,” Kathy muttered. Alina shook her head. “I think this falls under the category of ‘additional duties as assigned.’ The worst part is that it’s obvious Trevor knows I’ve been assigned as his partner

simply to keep an eye on him. He’ll barely talk to me.” “Okay, that sucks,” Kathy said. “Do you think your boss is right? Is Trevor involved in murder? Do you trust him?” Alina considered that. “I want to trust him.” “You know that’s not really an answer, right?” Kathy pointed out. “To any of the questions I asked.” Alina sighed. “I know, but the reality is I don’t know what to think of Trevor. He’s my partner, and working with him is going to be tough if we can’t trust each other. But after what happened with Wade, I’m not as quick to trust people as I used to be.” “That’s understandable,” Kathy said. “Let me ask you something. Besides your boss’s suspicions about Trevor being involved, is there anything you’ve personally seen or heard that has you doubting him?” Alina wondered if her friend had been a shrink in a previous life, because Kathy was definitely good at getting her to look at situations from a completely different perspective. But after replaying the day’s events in her head, she realized Trevor had actually given her a few reasons to trust him, first by opening up about shifters, then telling her why they were going to see Seth Larson. Despite that, there was still one thing hanging over their partnership that made her reluctant to have faith in him. “I suppose the thing that’s bothering me the most is this gut instinct I have that Trevor is hiding something from me,” she told Kathy. “I have no idea exactly what it is or why he’s doing it, but I’m having a hard time putting my faith in someone when I know they’re keeping secrets from

me.” Kathy nodded. “What are you going to do?” Alina didn’t have to think about it very long. There was no way she was going back to the Agency, and she wasn’t yet ready to walk away from the DCO. She wasn’t sure why, but the same instincts warning her that Trevor was keeping stuff from her were also screaming that she couldn’t bail on her new job. Alina shrugged and set her empty bowl on the coffee table. “I’m not making any decisions one way or the other right now. Not until I have more information to work with.” Kathy’s brow creased with worry. “What if you and Trevor have to walk into a dangerous situation? How do you do that if you don’t trust him? Isn’t that begging for trouble?” “Yeah, I guess it is.” Alina flopped back on the couch. “But right now, I don’t have any other options. Until I know who the good guys are in this situation, I’m going to have to cover my own back.”

*** Shit, he was tired. Not surprising, Trevor thought as he walked upstairs to his Woodbridge apartment. Between Dick putting him back out in the field with Alina and discovering the Seth Larson lead wasn’t likely to go anywhere, things definitely hadn’t gone the way he imagined when he’d woken up that morning. Which was probably why he didn’t realize there was

someone in his apartment until he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Normally, someone breaking into his apartment would have had him reaching for his weapon, but in this case, he knew who his visitor was. The steady heartbeat combined with a complete and total lack of scent meant it could only be one person—Adam. Closing the door, Trevor tossed his keys on the table inside the entryway. Adam stood in front of the big window in the living room, gazing out at the jogging path behind the building. He turned as Trevor flicked on the light, his hazel eyes quickly adjusting to the sudden brightness. Tall, with dark-blond hair and angular features, he wore a long duster even in the heat of summer. And while Trevor hadn’t picked up his scent when he’d first come into the apartment, as he moved closer, he was finally able to detect the strange smell that surrounded him. After the secretive shifter had shown up at his place for the first time weeks ago, Trevor quickly figured out the man wore some kind of cloaking spray to make it nearly impossible for him—or any other shifter—to pick up his natural scent. Trevor could only smell Adam’s odor if he was a few feet away. Not that it helped much. Adam didn’t smell like any other shifter Trevor had ever been around. He smelled like a lizard. Thing was, Trevor had never heard of a reptile-based shifter. Then again, Trevor had seen the man’s eyes shift once, and the pupils had been slitted. Freakiest crap he had ever seen. “You know, if you’re going to break into my apartment,

you could at least make dinner,” Trevor said drily as he walked around the peninsula that separated the living room from the kitchen. Adam lifted a brow. “Would you really eat anything I cooked?” Considering Adam had been an assassin in his former life, probably not. “Good point.” Opening the fridge, Trevor grabbed two bottles of beer, then gestured at Adam. When the other shifter shook his head, Trevor shrugged and put one back. “How was your trip down to Bowling Green?” Adam asked. Trevor unscrewed the cap and swigged his beer. How the hell had Adam known where he and Alina had been earlier that day? He hadn’t even known he was going down there until after lunch, and as far as anyone else knew, they’d been in Fredericksburg, not Bowling Green. He didn’t bother asking, knowing Adam wouldn’t say. Besides, he was more concerned with other things—like the fact that Dick had bugged his apartment. He motioned around the room, then pointed to his ear. “I’ve intercepted the audio going to our friends on the other end of the wires,” Adam said casually. “They think you’re watching ESPN while you make dinner.” Of course. Trevor wasn’t sure why he worried. Adam had known his apartment was bugged before he had. Adam had first shown up three days after John’s murder, letting Trevor know Landon, Ivy, and the others were safe, then asking him to be his eyes and ears in the DCO. The

other shifter had said he and the former director were friends, and that they’d devoted the past decade to putting Thorn in prison. Trevor had spent most of his adult life catching spies and traitors, so he was good at knowing when people were lying to him, and his gut told him Adam was on the level. “It wasn’t a complete loss,” Trevor said. “The man I went down there to see—Seth Larson—isn’t the one who brought the bomb onto the DCO complex, but he saw several people around the main building right before the explosion. I’m sending him photos from the DCO personnel records to look through. If we’re lucky, we might get an ID on the person who set the device.” “Seems like a long shot,” Adam said. Trevor couldn’t disagree with that. But until he had a chance to look into a few other leads he’d been working, it was the only shot he had to go on. “Any word on Kendra?” Trevor asked. “Tanner saw her a few days ago and said she’s close to having her twins,” Adam said, and Trevor could have sworn he saw a smile tug at his lips. “Declan is terrified he’ll have to deliver the babies.” Trevor chuckled. He could just imagine the big bear shifter trying to deliver the twins while worrying about protecting Kendra at the same time. He was glad Tanner was in a position to help. The big lion hybrid might have control issues now and then, but there was absolutely no one else in the DCO who possessed his heart and compassion when it came to helping people in trouble.

But then the seriousness of that situation struck him. If Kendra went into labor suddenly, Tanner wouldn’t be able to help with that. “All humor aside, she isn’t going to have to have her kids in that B&B where they’re staying, is she?” Adam shrugged. “She’ll have to. I’m trying to bring in a doctor and a nurse to take care of her, but I have to be careful. Thorn knows Kendra is close to giving birth, too, and I’m afraid if I use anyone in the area, he’ll catch wind of it.” Shit. Being in the middle of giving birth to twins while worrying about Thorn’s goons finding you had to be scary as hell. No wonder Declan was freaking out. “How was your first day with your new partner?” Adam asked. Trevor frowned. “You knew I was getting a new partner? And you didn’t think that was something you might have mentioned to me?” That slight smile crossed Adam’s face again. “I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to fake your emotions during your first meeting with Agent Bosch. You know what they say—you never get a second chance to make a first impression.” “Yeah right,” Trevor said. He might have a hard time picking up Adam’s scent, but he knew bullshit when he smelled it. “So what’s your first impression of her?” Adam prodded. Trevor pinned him with a look. “If you know so much about her, why don’t you tell me what she’s like? I’m sure you have a complete file on her already.”

Adam returned his look with those disquieting eyes of his. “Actually, I do have a complete file on your new partner. But those are just facts on a piece of paper. I’d much rather get your personal gut reactions to her. I tend to place a lot more faith in those kinds of assessments.” Trevor ground his jaw, fighting the urge to tell Adam to kiss his ass. The man could irritate the crap out of him sometimes. “Well, for one thing, Alina strikes me as very competent,” Trevor said. “Something tells me she was very good at the job she used to have at the CIA. Dick said something about her digging out traitors, so I suppose that’s what she did there.” He waited for Adam to confirm or deny that last part, but the other shifter didn’t say a word. “She didn’t lose it too badly when I did a partial shift in front of her, so I guess that earns her a few brownie points,” Trevor added, taking another swig of beer. “But Dick obviously paired her with me at Thorn’s urging, which means she’s dirty.” Once again, Adam didn’t say anything one way or the other about that. For some stupid reason, Trevor had hoped the other shifter would tell him that he was wrong, that Alina was one of the good guys. Kind of stupid, considering the facts of the situation. The afternoon he’d spent with the former CIA agent had left him conflicted. His head told him that Alina was completely up to her neck in Dick’s and/or Thorn’s pockets, but after the conversation they’d had on the way down to

Bowling Green, not to mention seeing the way she’d handled Larson—and Cody—he kept getting this weird feeling that there was something more to her than he suspected. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure what that something more entailed. He couldn’t even be sure if it was something good or something bad. His shifter instincts, which were usually reliable when it came to judging people, seemed to be withholding their opinion on the matter of Alina Bosch for the time being. A fact that pissed him off to no end. “Anything else?” Adam asked. Trevor shook his head. “Not really. I tried to hide that I was investigating Thorn’s involvement in John’s death, but the fact was probably impossible for her to miss. She handled that revelation better than I thought she would, though, so I’ll have to admit, I’m torn. Part of me thinks I should trust her, but there’s another part that’s just as sure she’s playing me. I don’t suppose there’s anything in that file you have on her that suggests one way or the other whether I can trust her?” “Unfortunately, nothing written on a piece of paper can answer that question. You’re right to worry about Alina,” he said. “Dick actively pursued her and brought her in to be your partner. We have no idea what he said to her or what he’s asked her to do. All I can suggest is that you protect yourself and not trust her any more than you have to, at least until she earns it.” “How am I supposed to know when that is?” Trevor muttered.

Since coming to work at the DCO, Trevor had had two partners—Ed and Jake. Trust had never been an issue with either of those men. It had just come naturally. It was funny. He’d spent a good portion of his adult life living the life of spies and espionage, going undercover for months at a time to sniff out other people who were living the same way. Now his new teammate might be someone he couldn’t trust. “I’m not sure how you know when it’s time to trust somebody,” Adam admitted quietly. “I trusted my partner years ago when I worked for the DCO, and he ended up shooting me in the back. John trusted a lot of people, and it got him killed.” Trevor didn’t know what the story was with Adam and his partner, but he certainly understood the reference to John’s murder. The implications were clear. If he put his faith in Alina, and that faith ended up being misplaced, he was probably going to end up dead, too. “I’ll be in touch,” Adam said. “You might get a call in the next day or so from Seth Larson,” Trevor said as the shifter headed for the door. “He’s good with computers and security systems. In fact, I think he set up the security system at Chadwick-Thorn that Ivy and Landon had a problem with.” Adam lifted a brow, like he was waiting to see what any of that had to do with him. “Anyway, the guy’s in a tough situation, and I mentioned that you might be able to find him some work he could do from home,” Trevor continued. “He has a kid with special

needs he has to be around to take care of, you know?” Adam regarded him for a long time before finally nodding. “I’ll see what I can do to help him, but stop giving my number out like I’m your cousin who does plumbing work on the side, huh?” With that, Adam turned and walked out. As Trevor took another drink from his bottle of beer, he toyed with the idea of calling Adam in the middle of the night and leaving a message about a leaky toilet.

Chapter 5 “I don’t care if Dick said you’re already certified for fieldwork.” Sabrina Erickson pinned Trevor with a look before turning her glare on Alina. “The two of you need to spend some time training together as a team before you get into the field and find out you have zero chemistry, because it’ll be too late to do anything about it then. You’re going to sweat now so you don’t have to bleed later.” Beside Alina, Trevor grabbed his paintball gun from the table and grumbled something under his breath about hating training officers who spouted clichés. Alina hid her smile as she loaded her own paintball gun. Sabrina was a force of nature, that was for sure. The woman had intercepted her and Trevor in the cafeteria an hour ago and joyfully informed them they’d be training all morning. Trevor had protested, saying he had some leads related to the bombing he needed to run down. Alina noticed he hadn’t said we have leads to track down, which confirmed her assumption he planned to bail on her. Even though she knew there was a serious trust issue between her

and Trevor, it still bothered her anyway. She hated not being trusted. It made her feel like the enemy. Like Wade. The trim, athletic training officer hadn’t batted an eye but simply smiled sweetly at Trevor and informed him that he could hunt down leads to his heart’s content—after she was done with them. Something told Alina she was going to like this woman. So they’d spent an hour at the pistol range, where Sabrina had each of them blaze through almost five hundred rounds of ammo with their issued sidearms, then come over here to the shoot house. “You’ll be doing a scenario involving a hostage,” Sabrina explained. Alina glanced up from loading another paintball. The black-and-silver gun had a long, slender barrel sticking out the front, a plastic tube full of bright-pink paintballs attached to the top, and a small bottle mounted below the handgrip. It looked like something out of a Star Wars movie and probably cost more than her car. In all the time she’d been in the CIA, she’d never fired a paintball gun as part of her training. Hell, while she’d done a lot of tactical room clearance, she’d never taken part in any kind of hostage-rescue training either. That wasn’t part of her normal CIA mission, so she’d never spent any time on it. “Jaxson and Jake will be playing the part of the opposing forces,” Sabrina continued. “You’ll need to deal with them as well as any pop-up targets in the house in order to reach the hostage. The pop-up targets will make the alarms on

your vests go off if you fail to take them out in time.” Trevor snorted, earning him a frown from the training officer. “Something funny?” Sabrina asked. He shrugged as he slipped a few extra tubes of paintball ammo into the cargo pocket of his uniform pants. “You realize I’m a shifter and that I can get through this scenario easily, right?” Sabrina’s lips curved. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see. Besides, the objective for this training is for both you and your partner to make it through and rescue the hostage. If you get through but Alina doesn’t, you start over. Teamwork—remember?” Trevor scowled at that but didn’t say anything. “I’ll be watching from the overhead catwalk,” Sabrina called over her shoulder as she headed into the house. “The training event will start when the alarm rings the first time. If you haven’t completed the course before it rings a second time, you fail and have to start over.” She gave them a pointed look. “By the way, keep your goggles on at all times. I wouldn’t want anyone to lose an eye in there.” Okay, maybe she wasn’t going to like this woman, Alina decided as she slipped her goggles down from her forehead. She got the feeling Sabrina had a trick or two up her sleeve for dealing with Trevor and his shifter abilities. At first glance, the building looked like a normal, everyday house, albeit in need of a fresh coat of paint. Then Alina realized there were no windows on the second floor and that the glass in the first-floor windows was

bulletproof. The walls were probably reinforced as well. She hadn’t seen many tactical training shoot houses in the CIA. This kind of stuff was normally reserved for special operations forces. At least she and Trevor weren’t using live ammo. That would have been a little crazy. Then again, crazy seemed to be kind of the norm around here. After Sabrina disappeared inside, Alina turned to Trevor and held up the paintball gun. “What the heck do I do with this thing? I’ve never fired one before.” If Trevor was surprised by that admission, he didn’t let on. “The gas pressure bottle under here propels the paintballs when you pull the trigger,” he said, pointing it out with his finger. “The tube on top holds ten paintballs. Think of it like a magazine and reload accordingly. People who do this paintball stuff seriously use containers that hold fifty to a hundred at a time, but the training officers rarely let us get away with that.” “I don’t know why,” she quipped. “I personally always like to have a lot more ammo than I think I’m going to need.” Trevor smirked but didn’t laugh. “This is the safety. It operates just like the one on your normal sidearm. Just take the weapon off safe and pull the trigger when you’re ready to fire.” Without another word, Trevor turned and headed for the door of the shoot house. “Don’t you think we should talk about how we’re going to do this before we go in there?” she asked, hurrying to catch up with him. “This could get ugly if we don’t have a plan.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take the front of the room as we go in. You cover me and deal with the back side of the room. It shouldn’t be that complicated. I’ll be able to smell and hear Jake and Jaxson long before we get to them.” Alina opened her mouth to ask what the heck he expected her to do while he was sniffing around like a bloodhound when a loud buzzer went off. Trevor lifted his foot and kicked in the door with the heel of his boot. Alina cursed and followed him inside. The first room had three doors leading off in different directions but was otherwise empty. Before she could even begin to wonder which room they should start with—or why the hell the place smelled like a litter box that hadn’t been cleaned in a week—loud music filled the house. She did her best to ignore both the blaring techno beat and the god-awful stench, moving quickly to cover the blind spots to the left and right of the door they’d come in. It would have been a lot easier if she’d been working with a partner who was interested in communicating—and working as a team. Fortunately, the first room was clear, so the fact that she had no idea which direction Trevor was going to move as he crossed the threshold didn’t come back to bite them in the ass. Alina shook off her irritation, waiting for Trevor to figure out which direction he wanted to go. He paused, and she assumed he was sniffing for a clue. There were three doors to choose from. But then she realized he was standing there

with a pissed-off look on his face. “What’s wrong?” she shouted. Trevor cursed. “It’s Jake. The damn guy knows exactly how shifters work—me especially. Between the loud music and cow piss he dumped all over the place, he’s taken away any advantages I have. I can’t hear or smell a damn thing.” “Cow urine?” Frowning, she looked around and realized the floor and walls were suspiciously wet. “Okay, that’s officially gross.” “The clock is ticking, people!” Sabrina called out from the dark catwalk above them. “Get a move on before you get the hostage killed!” Alina looked questioningly at Trevor. He shrugged. “I guess we do this the old-fashioned way.” Heading for the closed door on the far side of the room, he kicked it open, leaving her no choice but to scramble to catch up. She turned her attention to the right side of the room just as a man-shaped silhouette popped up from the floor with the picture of a bad guy with unkempt hair on it. Alina aimed her gun and squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession, popping the target right in the center of the chest with pink paint. She was thinking the gun was surprisingly accurate when two more colorful splats hit the same target, even though it was her responsibility. She threw Trevor an irritated look just as a green paintball exploded in the center of his chest. She spun in the direction the shot had come from, only catching a brief glimpse of a dark-haired man as he jerked back around a corner and disappeared. A split second later, she felt something smack

into her upper back. Crap on a stick. She didn’t have to see the green paint dripping on the floor to know she’d been hit. All because she hadn’t been paying attention to anything except how annoying Trevor was. Her new partner had gotten her shot! “Don’t bother starting over!” Sabrina shouted. “You haven’t made it far enough even to count as a good beginning. Keep going.” Trevor growled and wiped his hand across the green dye painted all across his chest. His eyes were blazing yellow, and she could see the tips of his fangs extending over his lower lip as a rumble of anger continued to vibrate out of his chest. He slammed his foot into the center of the next door, completely ripping it off the hinges and sending it flying across the next room. Alina blinked. Apparently, Trevor had a temper. Well, at least after getting hit with a paintball in the chest. She couldn’t blame him. She was damn pissed—not to mention embarrassed—they’d been taken out so easily. She followed him but was once again forced to scramble to try and cover her partner, knowing the whole time she probably couldn’t trust him to do the same for her. Instead of working as a team, they were two people trying to work through a shoot house scenario completely on their own. As expected, the results were a complete disaster. Alina and Trevor moved from room to room, so worried about Jake and Jaxson they missed nearly every pop-up

target in the house. The damn alarm buzzer on her vest rang nearly nonstop, and on those rare occasions when she was able to focus on her surroundings enough to hit the targets, Jake or Jaxson would pop out of the nearest doorway and smack them with a green paintball. “You two are never going to make it through this house unless you start to work as a team!” Sabrina cajoled from the catwalk. “You need to stop worrying about your own butt long enough to cover your teammate’s back. That’s the only way this is going to work.” Even though Alina knew Sabrina was right, she still had the urge to shoot a few paintballs in the woman’s general direction on the off chance of hitting her. On the upside, Sabrina didn’t tell them to go back to the start. Why bother? They were doing so poorly, it wouldn’t have helped anyway. As she and Trevor continued to move through the house, they did a better job of shooting the targets, but when a flash of movement from the left caught their attention in the fourth room, both of them turned that way, leaving their right flank wide open again. Jake stepped out and popped both of them, then darted out of sight before either of them could react. Alina let out a sound of frustration that rivaled Trevor’s growls. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Sabrina called a halt to the exercise. By the time they reached the room where the hostage dummy was seated at a table with a picture of an angelic little kid taped to its face, Alina was more than ready for the

training to end. She and Trevor needed a reset. Hell, they needed to get outside and talk over the possibility that they might be the worst team in the history of covert operations. Alina was so focused on that, she didn’t see Jake until he slipped up behind her and draped one arm around her shoulder and neck, yanking her back against him. At the same time, he put the barrel of his paintball gun against her head. “Drop your weapon, Trevor,” he called loud enough to be heard over the music. “You two are toast.” Trevor spun around, pointing his weapon in her direction. For a moment, Alina thought he was going to say the hell with it and start blazing away. But before her partner could decide one way or the other, Jaxson slipped into the room behind Trevor and pointed his paintball gun at Trevor’s back. “Drop it, Trevor,” Jaxson said. “Seriously. It’s over.” Trevor’s eyes blazed bright with fury. He wasn’t the only one. She’d never performed this poorly in any training she’d ever attempted, not even when she was a rookie going through the academy at Quantico. She hated getting beaten like this, all because she and Trevor didn’t trust each other. This crap had to end. Alina caught her partner’s eye and held it. She and Trevor hadn’t been working together long enough for him to read her body language, so she hoped he realized what she was doing. Because she flat-out wasn’t going down without a fight. She was about to do something crazy, and if he didn’t play his part, she was going to get a splat of bright-green

paint to the side of the head. She relaxed against Jake, like she was giving up. At the same time, she tossed her paintball gun to the floor, slightly to her left. Far enough away that it was out of easy reach but close enough for her to get to it when she had to. The moment she felt Jake loosen his hold the slightest bit, she moved. No hesitation, no concern for what Trevor might or might not do. She just reacted, stomping down on top of Jake’s right foot with the heel of her boot. At the same time, she brought the edge of her right hand down in a groin strike, whacking Jake in the balls. It wasn’t as hard as she could have hit him—she didn’t want the man writhing on the floor in pain—but it was enough to make him jerk away. Protecting the family jewels was as instinctive for a man as breathing. Reaching up, she grabbed the hand he had draped over her shoulder, twisting it away from her body and torqueing his wrist until she swore she heard it creak. He had no choice but to let her go…or let her break his wrist. Alina lunged forward and to the left just as Trevor’s gun went off. Hitting the floor, she tucked into a roll then grabbed her paintball gun and came up shooting. Jaxson had been caught off guard by her sudden move, and he wasted half a second trying to decide if he should shoot her or Trevor. That delay cost him. Alina came up on one knee and popped him three times in the chest. She continued moving, spinning around to face Jake, not sure what she would find. But she was delighted to see him standing there where she’d left him, a fluorescent pink paint

splat right in the middle of his forehead. He looked pissed. She turned to confirm that Jaxson was down as well and found Trevor regarding her, his gaze both thoughtful and approving. “See how well it works when you trust each other?” Sabrina called from the catwalk. “Took you long enough!” Alina ignored the training officer, focusing on Trevor as he continued to study her intently. It was impossible to say how she knew it, but something had just changed between them. “Don’t stand there looking all impressed with yourselves!” Sabrina shouted. “Head back outside so we can see if you can be a team for more than ten seconds at a time. And Jake, wipe that paint splat off your face. You look ridiculous.” Alina and Trevor made their way toward the front door. As she screwed another pressure bottle onto the bottom of her paintball gun, Trevor motioned toward the building with his chin. “How about we try something different this time?” he suggested. “You take lead, and I’ll cover you.” She didn’t answer right away, wondering if there was going to be a catch. When there didn’t seem to be one, she nodded. “Okay. I can do that,” she agreed. Before she could say anything else, the start buzzer went off again. Alina shoved open the front door with her shoulder, forcing herself to trust her partner. They moved from room

to room much faster this time, dealing with pop-up targets and the occasional appearance by Jake and Jaxson. Sometimes, they missed a target and got dinged for it; other times, Jake and Jaxson got them. But throughout the whole thing, she and Trevor worked as a team and covered each other. By the time they rescued the hostage, she and Trevor were that much closer to becoming a real team. It was crazy how good that made her feel, considering that, according to the director of the DCO, Trevor was the enemy.

*** Trevor hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he and Alina walked into the Pizza Place in nearby Dumfries and he breathed in the aroma of garlic and freshly made tomato sauce coming from the kitchen. Damn, he could eat a whole pie himself. He and Alina had finished up training two hours ago, then spent another thirty minutes hanging around talking with Jake and Jaxson before getting cleaned up. Alina had been fine with grabbing something for lunch at the DCO cafeteria, but Trevor hadn’t felt like sitting there while his coworkers stared at him like he was some kind of freak. Plus, this place made fantastic pizza. Spotting an empty booth toward the back of the dining room, Trevor pointed it out to Alina, then gestured for her to lead the way. The excellent food wasn’t the only reason he’d wanted to get off the complex. He also wanted to talk to Alina in a

setting a little more private than the cafeteria. This morning’s training had made him curious about her. Once again, he had this crazy feeling he’d pegged her all wrong. They both ordered iced tea when their server came over to drop off their menus. Alina glanced at hers for all of five seconds before looking at him. “You want to split a medium pepperoni?” she asked, her expression hopeful. “Let’s make it a large,” he said. “I’m pretty hungry.” Their server brought their drinks, then disappeared with their order, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Trevor added sweetener to his tea, searching for the best way to start the conversation. Across from him, Alina suddenly seemed very interested in the old pictures mounted on the wall above the booth. Damn, this was so much easier when he was teamed up with Jake and Ed. Then again, training with them had been a whole hell of a lot less difficult, too. This morning had been ugly, at least at the start of the shoot-house exercise. He was man enough to admit that a good portion of the blame for that train wreck rested squarely on his shoulders. Yeah, he’d been thrown for a loop by Jake’s trick with the noise and cow urine, but the biggest reason they’d done so poorly was because they’d flat-out refused to trust each other. With his shifter hearing and sense of smell taken out of the equation, he’d been dependent on Alina to watch his back as they’d moved through the house, but his suspicions of her made that leap of faith impossible.

It had taken Alina doing something extraordinary, like putting her complete faith in him and risking a paintball to the side of the head, to get him to realize he was being stupid. Dick might have hired her, but that didn’t have to define her. Maybe that’s what his gut had been trying to tell him. Maybe there was more to Alina than the job she’d been hired to do. While he wasn’t ready to trust her completely, he’d at least give her a chance. “I guess you like pizza, huh?” he asked lamely, finally breaking the silence that had gone from merely awkward to seriously uncomfortable. Alina turned her attention away from the photos on the wall to give him a sheepish look. “Yeah. When I was growing up, Friday was pizza night at our house. Mom and Dad made a big event out of it, so I always associate pizza with family and good times.” A smile curved her lips. “Now, it’s my number one go-to comfort food. My freezer is stuffed full of them, and the front of my fridge is covered in magnets from all the local delivery places.” Trevor sipped his iced tea. He’d always considered pizza the ultimate food. “Were you being serious yesterday when you said your parents don’t know what you do for a living?” Alina’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she shook her head. “I was just messing with you. Of course my parents know I worked for the CIA. Though to be truthful, they refuse to talk about it.” He was about to ask for details, but their server came over with their pizza just then. It was an absolutely drool-worthy

collection of cheese, pepperoni, and excess grease. In other words, perfect. The woman placed the big pizza on the table between them along with plates, utensils, and a load of napkins. Trevor contained his curiosity about Alina’s family while they each helped themselves to their first slices of pizza. He watched in amusement as she used some of the paper napkins to soak up the excess grease, then practically emptied half a bottle of Parmesan cheese on her slice. “You plan on having any pizza with that?” he teased as she poked the slice a few times with a fork as if she thought that would help all the added powdered cheese stay in place. Alina shrugged. “I like Parmesan cheese on my pizza. Is that a crime or something?” “Nope, not a crime at all.” He picked up his slice and took a few bites. “Back to your parents. What’s the story behind them refusing to talk about you being in the CIA?” Alina hesitated long enough to take a bite of her own pizza before answering. “My family is what you’d describe as politically active. They’ve been involved in state and city politics for generations. City council, state senate and assembly, state cabinet positions, campaign management and fund-raising—you name it, and someone in my family has done it. With my background, everyone assumed I’d go into politics, too.” He snagged another slice of pizza and sprinkled some Parmesan cheese on it. “You didn’t want to?” “Actually, I did. I never saw myself running for office, but I thought about doing the behind-the-scenes stuff, maybe

managing a campaign or working on someone’s staff. I even went to college for political science.” “How did you go from being a poli-sci major to joining the CIA?” She ate a few more bites of her pizza, nibbling all the way down to the back of the slice but not eating the crust there. When she was done, she tossed the pizza bone to the side and got another piece, drowning it in powdered cheese. “There was a small Agency recruitment effort on campus,” she explained. “A lot of my friends didn’t want to have anything to do with them, but I went and listened. This was sometime in 2003, and the intelligence failures of 9/11 were all anyone talked about those days. What they told me changed my entire outlook. I signed up a few months later and went straight into the CIA right after graduation. With my background, I thought I’d be doing analyst work, but I ended up in the field instead.” Trevor had still been in the army at that time and clearly remembered what those years following 9/11 were like. Those events had changed a lot of people’s outlooks. “What did your family think of your career choice?” he asked. Alina sipped her iced tea. “My brothers and sister weren’t thrilled, but they respected my decision. But when I told my parents I was joining the CIA, well, let’s just say they were disappointed. I think they had visions of me running around the world, inciting coups, toppling governments, kidnapping people, and assassinating world leaders. There was a period of time in the beginning when both of them stopped talking

to me.” Trevor winced. “And now?” “It’s better,” she admitted. “But now, when I visit for the holidays, my profession is strictly off-limits. I don’t talk about what I do, and no one brings it up.” Damn. That sounded really screwed up. “Must make for some tense dinners.” She laughed. “Not as bad as you might think. I love my family to pieces, but sometimes they act as if the real world doesn’t exist. They’re comfortable believing everyone and every situation, anywhere in the world, can be handled through reasonable political debate and a nice, civil voice. You and I both know that, sometimes, things don’t work out like that. My family would simply rather not talk about those things. They’re comfortable not knowing what I do, and I’m comfortable not telling them.” Alina might have seemed cool about the whole thing, but the slight elevation in her heart rate told Trevor she wasn’t as chill with her family’s opinion of her chosen career as she might try to suggest. He could get that. Family was family. If you knew they were disappointed in you, it was hard to act like it didn’t matter. “Are you from the DC area, or did you move here after the DCO hired you?” he asked. “I grew up in Sacramento, but the Agency had me based out of DC for the past five years. I have an apartment in Del Ray, near Reagan National.” He reached for another slice of pizza. “Del Ray? That’s practically at the end of the airport runway. You don’t mind

living near all that noise?” She shook her head. “It’s not that bad. I don’t even notice it anymore. Besides, it was really convenient while I was in the Agency, since I practically lived in the airport.” He chuckled. “I feel ya. Sometimes I think it’d make more sense to live in an RV. That way, I could park it at the airport whenever I go somewhere. Any plans to move closer to the DCO training complex at Quantico so you won’t have to deal with that morning commute?” “No. I like my apartment, and my neighbor is my best friend. No way am I going anywhere.” She shrugged. “Besides, I still have no idea if this gig in the DCO is going to work out. It would be stupid to move then find out I don’t like the work that much.” She motioned at him with her half-eaten slice of pizza. “How about you? Do you live near Quantico?” “Yeah. I have an apartment in Woodbridge that I was lucky enough to get into called Kensington Place. I can stumble to my car ten minutes before work and still make it there in time.” She blinked. “I’ve heard of that place. It’s kind of fancy, isn’t it?” “It’s a little pricey, I admit. But shifters do get a bonus over the regular GS wage scale. The DCO actually found the place for me.” She laughed. “The perks of having fangs and claws, I guess.” Trevor didn’t sense a trace of bitterness in her words, which was what he usually got from a lot of the other

regular agents working in the DCO when they found out that the freaks got paid more than they did. “Okay, now that you know all about me, what’s your story?” Alina asked. “How’d you end up in the DCO?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It’s a long story.” She gestured at the pie in the center of the table. “We still have half a pizza left to polish off, so feel free to take your time.” “Well, in that case, I suppose I should start with the fact that I was born to be a cop,” Trevor said, grabbing another slice. Alina lifted a brow. “That seems like a tough burden to put on a newborn, don’t you think?” He chuckled. “I’m serious. My dad, uncle, all three of my brothers, and my sister are all cops in Portland, so I’m not exaggerating when I say my life was planned out for me. From the time I was ten years old, it was a given that I’d either go in the army and serve as an MP, then get out after my first tour so I could become a cop like everyone else in my family, or I’d go to the local junior college and get my associate’s degree in criminal justice, then get a job as a cop like everyone else in my family.” Alina made a face. “Crap. And I thought my life had been tightly scripted out for me. That had to have been a little claustrophobic.” “Yeah, no kidding,” he agreed. “But it turned out that in my case, I had even fewer options than that. See, I was a wide receiver for our high school football team, and I was good enough to get some attention from the local

universities. I got a couple of looks from recruiters at both Oregon and Oregon State during my junior year, and everyone was talking a full scholarship if I could make it through my senior year without getting injured. I have to admit I was kind of psyched about going to a big school and playing in front of thousands of fans. Unfortunately, my mom and dad weren’t planning on letting me get near any of the big schools. They’d already locked their sights on Western Oregon University. It was only an hour and a half from home, and it offered a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and a full scholarship. Dad was practically salivating at the thought of his youngest son hitting the detective ranks before the age of thirty. So at that point, even the military was off the table.” “I’m hearing a but coming,” Alina said, taking a bite of pizza. “Yeah. It was definitely coming.” He waited for their server to refill their teas and leave before continuing. “Because in between my junior year and senior year of high school, I went through my first shift. In a flash, my whole life changed.” Alina stopped chewing and swallowed quickly. “Wait a minute. I naturally assumed you were born a shifter. It didn’t happen until you were seventeen? Did something happen to bring it on or whatever?” “I was born a shifter, but shifter abilities usually don’t start appearing until sometime in our late teens.” She nodded in interest, pizza apparently forgotten. “Did you freak out that first time?”

He snorted. “Hell yeah, I freaked. I thought I was turning into a werewolf or something.” “So how did it happen?” she asked, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Did you wake up in the woods naked under a full moon, or was it something really scary like finding yourself raiding the fridge and eating raw meat in the middle of the night?” Trevor laughed. Those were exactly the kind of snarky questions he would have asked if she was the shifter and he was the curious normal guy. “You watch way too many movies,” he said. Her cheeks took on a slight flush, and he had to remind himself this was his partner he was talking to, not a woman he was dating. That was tough to remember, since he couldn’t help but notice how damn sexy Alina looked when she blushed. “It wasn’t anything that dramatic,” he finally said, taking mercy on her. “I woke up in the middle of the night dripping with sweat. Every muscle in my body was worn out like I’d just finished running a marathon in full pads and a helmet. I went into the bathroom to throw some cold water on my face. Then I looked in the mirror and…well, I guess you can imagine how seeing fangs and claws could be a little tough for a seventeen-year-old to deal with.” “Did you tell anyone? Your parents or brothers or sister… a friend?” He shook his head. “No. I thought I was turning into a monster. There was no way in hell I was going to tell anyone.”

She frowned. “That must have been difficult to keep secret.” “Tell me about it.” He washed a bite of pizza down with a swig of tea. “When you first shift, it can take a while to gain control. I was on the verge of sprouting fangs and claws whenever I smelled a girl, got nervous or frustrated or angry, even when I got hungry. I hid it the best I could and tried to act like nothing was going on, but everything went to crap when I showed up for football practice and blew past the fastest cornerback on our team like he was standing still.” He shook his head, remembering it like it had been yesterday. “That’s when I knew I couldn’t play anymore.” “Why not?” “Because someone would have figured out something was going on with me. Or assumed I was on performanceenhancing drugs. Plus, it seemed wrong playing football when there was no one who could keep up with me.” Alina looked at him in surprise. “Wow. That’s a mature way to look at the situation for a high school kid. There’d be a lot of seventeen-year-olds who would have tried to take advantage of those physical abilities to make themselves look good.” “Yeah, that was me,” he quipped, “very mature for my age.” “So what’d you do?” “What could I do?” He transferred another slice of pizza from the tray to his plate, then reached for the Parmesan cheese. “I dropped out of football and started hitting the science classes pretty hard, hoping to figure out what the

hell was happening to me. When that didn’t work, I made the decision to get the hell out of town before anyone noticed how much I’d changed. I joined the army and headed to basic training the day after I graduated from high school. I signed up to be an MP, which was something of a consolation prize for my dad. My mom was a little freaked out, though. This was back when everyone thought Iraq was hiding nuclear and chemical weapons and the UN inspectors were being denied access to all kinds of suspicious facilities. Mom thought we’d be going back to war any day and was sure I’d get pulled into it. That didn’t happen, but she was a mess at the time anyway.” “I think it’s nice that your mother worried about you so much.” Alina’s voice took on a wistful tone. “My mom knows what I do is dangerous, but since we don’t talk about it, she treats it like a tree that falls in the forest.” “If there’s no one there to hear it, did it really fall?” Trevor finished for her. “Exactly.” Alina sipped her tea. “How did you manage to keep your shifter side hidden in a whole unit full of cops?” “It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it’d be.” He took a bite of pizza, chewing before answering. “Being completely exhausted throughout basic training helped, but mostly, I got better at controlling both my abilities and my emotions.” “How long were you an MP?” “A few years,” he said. “As I got better with my abilities, I started getting good at figuring out when people were lying to me. They start sweating, their breathing gets all erratic,

their heart rate spikes, their muscles tighten up—stuff like that. When I was assigned to Fort Carson in Colorado, I ended up catching a couple of high-vis bad guys, including a contractor who was trying to drive out the gate with a trunk full of classified documents. My commander put my name in for a transfer to CID—the army’s criminal investigative command—and the next thing I knew, I was reassigned as an investigator at Redstone Arsenal, a big R&D base in Alabama, where they had me watching for civilians and contractors trying to steal government secrets.” “O-kay. Don’t take this the wrong way, but that sounds boring as hell.” “Some of my coworkers thought it was,” he admitted. “But for me, it was always about getting into that other person’s head and trying to figure out what they were going to do before they even decided to do it. Besides, my dad was over the moon about it. He figured I’d get out of the army soon, and he’d be seeing a detective in the Maxwell family in the very near future.” “I hear another but coming,” she said. Trevor chuckled. “You’re getting good at this. Yeah, my skills got me noticed by some people in DC, and I was transferred to the Defense Intelligence Agency without ever being asked whether that was something I wanted to do. I was put on a team responsible for tracking down traitors selling military intelligence and the foreign agents trying to recruit them.” “So basic counterespionage and counterintelligence?” He nodded. “Yup, spy versus spy.”

She nibbled her pizza down to the crust. “What did your dad think of that?” “He wasn’t thrilled. I liked it, though. Up until that point, I’d been limited to one little base, waiting for a government employee to do something stupid. But with the DIA, I went all over the world, anywhere there was a threat against the Department of Defense. I enjoyed the freedom to pursue just about anyone I wanted. And as a shifter, I was very good at finding those people.” “What changed?” she asked. “How did you end up in the DCO?” “What changed? Nothing really. That was the issue.” He shook his head. “No matter how many criminals I caught, no matter how much good I did, I knew in the back of my mind that I could never be myself. I was a freak, and I could never let anyone know it. I was alone in a sea of people. That was a shitty thing to have to live with, and there was a part of me that was unhappy as hell. I was seriously close to saying the hell with all of it and moving back to Portland to be the cop that my parents always wanted me to be.” “And then?” Alina prompted. “And then John Loughlin found me.” Trevor tried to ignore the stab of sorrow that came with saying his boss’s name but wasn’t very successful. “He found me and helped me realize that I wasn’t a freak, that there were other people like me, and that I didn’t need to keep living in secret. It was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for me.” Alina’s face clouded. “And then someone killed him.” He swallowed hard. “Yeah. Someone killed him. The only

reason I’m still at the DCO is so I can figure out exactly who did it and make sure they pay.”

Chapter 6 Alina fidgeted in the passenger seat of the big Suburban as Trevor waited for an opening in traffic, then changed lanes. It was well after rush hour, but I-95 was still packed. “Does the dress fit okay?” he asked, glancing at her. She fought the urge to squirm again. “Yeah. It fits fine. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve worn a dress like this on a mission. I’m so used to working in pantsuits that wearing a dress feels…odd.” Not that she was complaining about the dress. A shimmery, black evening gown with a sexy neckline and a little slit up the side that showed off just enough leg to be interesting without being over the top, it was probably the most gorgeous dress she’d ever worn. Normally, she would never have worn anything like it on a mission, but Trevor said she needed to look the part for the undercover role they were playing that night, so she’d agreed, even though she didn’t have a clue what the hell they were up to this evening. All she knew for sure was that they were heading to Baltimore and that almost no one else in the DCO—most

especially their boss—knew what they were doing. Why the hell she trusted Trevor so much was a shock to her, but the shoot-house training they’d done yesterday had demonstrated they could be good together—when they trusted each other. Trevor looked over at her, eyeing her up and down before turning his attention back to the freeway with a shrug. “If it helps, I think you look frigging awesome.” She appreciated the compliment probably more than she should have, but that didn’t keep her from pointing out the obvious. “Mind telling me why you get to wear a suit and tie while I have to wear something that shows off more than it covers?” He glanced at her again. She didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on the nice amount of cleavage she was displaying before he met her eyes. “Well, for starters, my suit would be way too big for you,” he said. “For another, I think I’d look absolutely ridiculous in that dress. Finally, there’s a good chance that a distraction will be called for during this mission.” He gave her another once-over that had her skin warming alarmingly. “And trust me—you are definitely one serious distraction.” She felt her face heat and was glad it was nighttime. Until she remembered Trevor could see in the dark. “Speaking of where we’re going,” she said, “don’t you think you might want to let me in on the big secret? Since I was nice enough to wear this dress for you and all. I’m trying to trust you here, but that’s hard if you’re going to keep me completely in the dark.”

Trevor was silent for so long, Alina thought he wasn’t going to answer. She wouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been completely mum on the subject the whole time a behavioral scientist who worked for the DCO named Skye Durant had picked out Alina’s disguise for the mission. She’d been too busy being amazed that the DCO had a clothing and prop department that included expensive cocktail dresses to press him on the subject then, but she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. “We’re going to an out-of-the-way restaurant near the Inner Harbor called the End of the Road,” he finally said. “The place pulls in enough business to make the establishment look legit, but the restaurant is a front for a high-stakes gambling operation that they run out of the back of the place.” She thought about that for a moment, replaying everything she’d learned on their trip down to Bowling Green on Wednesday, then combining it with what Trevor had told her yesterday over pizza. “Something tells me we won’t be looking for the fugitive shifters and their teammates playing poker in this backroom joint,” she said. Trevor didn’t look at her. “No. We’re looking for the man I think built the bomb that killed John. My sources say he likes to gamble there.” Clearly, Trevor had no intention of going after his fellow shifters. Apparently, he didn’t believe they had anything to do with John’s death. “Any chance Skye and that nerdy guy I saw her talking to

might be your sources?” Alina asked. Trevor didn’t answer her. No shock there. Trevor was obviously going behind Dick’s back on this manhunt for the bomber who’d killed John, which was almost certainly going to get him into trouble if the director ever found out. If Thomas Thorn really was behind the bombing, that trouble might just be of the fatal variety for everyone involved. If Skye and that guy —who was definitely an analyst type if Alina had ever seen one—were the ones passing Trevor his intel, her partner struck her as the kind of man who would do anything to protect them. The fact that Trevor didn’t want to talk to her about any of this meant he was worried she’d run off and tell Dick. After yesterday’s training, he might trust her more than he had before but apparently not enough to put anyone other than himself at risk. Even though she understood why he’d do that, it still hurt a little. She couldn’t help wondering if he was simply being careful out of habit or because he knew Dick had cornered her in the main building this morning. The director had waylaid her the moment she’d walked in the door, pulling her into his office and grilling her for over thirty minutes about what exactly she and Trevor had done down in Fredericksburg on Wednesday and why she hadn’t reported to him already. Since she hadn’t been able to come up with any convenient lie—and knowing he’d check up on anything she’d said anyway—Alina told him they’d gone to Bowling

Green and talked to Seth Larson. She’d done a good job of downplaying the whole thing, making it seem like Trevor had simply been looking for proof that one of the shifters had been around John’s office at some point prior to the explosion. Dick had been curious about Larson, but Alina had kept her answers vague. She didn’t want to make trouble for Larson. He already had it hard enough. “I want to know when Trevor takes a piss,” Dick said, fixing her with a stern look. “Don’t forget why I hired you, Agent Bosch.” The mere thought of spying on her partner had Alina twisting anxiously in her seat again. “You sure that dress isn’t bothering you?” Trevor asked. “Is it chafing or something?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “No, it’s fine. Trust me, dresses this expensive don’t chafe.” He threw her an amused glance as he turned off I-95 onto 395, getting closer to the Inner Harbor. “I just figured maybe there was something under the dress that was too tight, or…I don’t know…pinching somewhere.” That went to show how little men knew about what women had to go through to look this good. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but with a dress this form fitting, wearing panties isn’t an option.” Trevor glanced her way, his eyes automatically going to the juncture of her thighs. He looked away quickly, like he didn’t want her to realize where his mind might have been, but it was a little late for that. The heat she’d seen there— and the little flash of yellow glow if she wasn’t mistaken—

gave him away. Beside her, Trevor suddenly seemed very interested in something in his side view mirror. Knowing he was attracted to her should have pissed her off. What kind of work relationship could they build if he saw her as a woman instead of a partner? But for some reason, she couldn’t quite muster up as much outrage as she probably should have. In fact, she found his attraction to her…interesting. Definitely something she was going to have to talk to Kathy about. As Trevor turned off the interstate and hit the side streets a little while later, she realized he was still checking his side mirror as well as the rearview every few seconds. Then she recognized the same gas station they’d already passed. Trevor was driving in circles and checking his mirrors to see if they had a tail. She checked her side mirror but didn’t see anything suspicious. She was about to ask if he did when he suddenly turned into the parking lot of the Horseshoe Casino and began driving up and down the rows of parking spaces. She glanced over her shoulder to look behind them but still didn’t see anyone. “Are you lost and refusing to ask for directions, or are you worried we picked up a tail?” she asked, turning back around. She wasn’t sure who the hell might be following them, but if she had to guess, she’d say it must have been someone Dick sent to keep an eye on them. That wasn’t good. “I don’t think anyone’s following us, but I wanted to make

sure,” Trevor said, pulling out of the parking lot. “As far as getting lost, you don’t have to worry about that. As a shifter, it’s genetically impossible for me to get lost.” Alina was still wondering if Trevor was serious or not when he turned onto a street called Worchester and headed toward an area near the train tracks that looked a little rundown. Surprising, considering they weren’t all that far off the main thoroughfare. They kept going until the road ended in a big parking lot in front of an equally large industrial building. Looking at it, you’d never know the place was a restaurant if it hadn’t been for the glitzy lights along the front and a big neon sign proclaiming it to be The End of the Road. Looked like a dive to her. There were more fancy cars in the parking lot than she expected to see. Even a few limos that looked seriously out of place. As did the two big guards standing by the front door wearing suits that were working overtime in their attempt to cover up all the muscles and the handguns both men were carrying in underarm holsters. “You’re telling me the police never realized what’s going on around here?” she asked Trevor. He pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. “I’m sure they know. But as long as no one causes problems, they apparently look the other way.” Alina nodded. On some level, that made sense. Beside her, Trevor flipped down the visor and adjusted his tie in the mirror. Damn, he looked good in the expensive silk suit Skye had picked out for him. And the light stubble along his jawline made him look even better. Then again,

she’d always had a thing for guys with scruff. “Who’s this guy we’re looking for, and why do you think he’s connected to John Loughlin’s death?” she asked. “These days, he goes by the name of Doug Smith.” Trevor reached into the backseat, coming up with a thin manila folder. He flipped though the file until he came out with a photo of a man in his early forties with dark hair sprinkled with a little bit of gray. “His real name is Dokka Shishani,” Trevor continued. “He’s from Chechnya, where he fought for years in the Chechen-Russian conflict. It’s also where he learned his trade as a bomb maker. He moved to the States in 2008, becoming a naturalized citizen in 2014. Since then, he’s been implicated in a few assassination-style bombings in South America and Asia, but nothing that’s ever stuck. He does a good job blending in with the local Russian community, which must be hard as hell considering how much Chechens and Russians dislike each other.” Alina had spent some time over in Chechnya during the early part of her career in the CIA. The war there had devastated the country for nearly twenty years, and it was just now starting to crawl out from under the massive destruction. It was a tough place to live but an even tougher place to get out of. She picked up the picture and studied it, committing the man’s face to memory. “With a background like his, I’m surprised he was allowed through immigration. The State Department normally would have flagged somebody like him long before he ever got a green card.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Trevor agreed. Stepping out of the SUV, Trevor came around to her side to open her door. She took the hand he offered her, telling herself that she did it simply because the guards might be watching. But as she slipped her right leg out of the SUV, flashing a good amount of thigh, she admitted to herself that maybe she did it because it gave her a chance to get a rise out of him. And yeah…he looked. All the way from thigh to ankle and back up again. “You really do look amazing in that dress,” he murmured, pushing the door closed. “You look pretty damn good yourself,” she said as she rested one hand on his arm and let him escort her across the parking lot. She actually appreciated the assist. It had been a while since she’d worn heels this high. She was out of practice. “You were saying something about how our guy got through immigration?” she prompted softly. Trevor’s mouth twitched. “I do remember vaguely saying something about that. Before you derailed my train of thought.” She laughed. Damn, he could be seriously smooth when he wanted. “It turns out Mr. Shishani had a sponsor with enough power to pull the right strings,” Trevor explained. “That sponsor got our guy in the country with limited State Department review, accelerating his naturalization paperwork and getting him through in record time.”

Alina noticed the two guards watching them as they approached the front doors. The muscle-bound suits were eyeballing them so hard the building could have fallen down behind them and they probably wouldn’t have noticed. “And what’s the connection between this guy and John?” she asked. Trevor stopped, turning to look at her. “None between Shishani and John, but the guy who sponsored Shishani and got him into the country? Yeah, there’s definitely a connection.” She blinked in surprise. “You’re saying Thomas Thorn brought a Chechen-born bomber into the United States and paid him to kill John Loughlin?” Trevor didn’t answer but merely started for the entrance again. The guards opened the doors for them without a word. Once they were inside the little hallway that led to another set of double doors and the restaurant beyond, he stopped. “There’s no indication Shishani ever came onto the training complex, but he definitely had the know-how to make the bomb, and the attack matched his style perfectly. Throw in his connection to Thorn and the fact that he’s been spending money like it’s going out of style the past few weeks, and that makes him somebody worth checking out.” Alina let that sink in for a moment. “I would have preferred to hear some of this stuff before we’d gotten here, but for now, let’s assume everything you think you know is right. What do you hope to get out of this guy? I’m pretty sure we’re not going to get a spontaneous confession from

him.” Trevor shrugged as he motioned her forward and opened the door for her. “I can be very persuasive when I want to. You’d be amazed what you can get out of people when you say please.” Alina would have called him on that, but the smell of cigar and cigarette smoke hit her so hard, she couldn’t breathe, much less talk. So much for a smoke-free Maryland. She scanned the bar along the right side of the room, then the booths on the left, and the tables and chairs filling the space in between. Beyond the bar, she could see a nondescript door, which could just as well have led to a storage room or an office if it wasn’t for the big, musclebound bouncers standing on either side of it. “What’s the plan here?” she asked Trevor quietly as the restaurant’s patrons eyed them curiously. “Because I don’t see anyone warming up to us enough to invite us into the back room.” “We’re Trevor and Alina Hoffman, a filthy rich, newly married couple from Silicon Valley,” Trevor said, glancing around as if taking in the ambience. “We’ve been on an extended honeymoon for the past few months and are currently heading for a trans-Atlantic cruise out of New York City. We decided to do some gambling and got tired of dealing with all the crap at the local casino.” “You think they’ll buy that?” she asked as he led her across the room toward the door with the guards. “You sell the fact that we’re a newly married couple, and

I’ll make them believe I’m a rich guy with a gambling addiction.” She could do that. Then she realized one big flaw in their cover story. “If we’re a newly married couple, shouldn’t I be wearing a ring?” Trevor gave her a sidelong glance. “What makes you think you aren’t?” She looked down at her hand in confusion and almost fell off her stacked heels as she saw the monstrously large diamond he’d somehow slipped onto her ring finger when she wasn’t looking. Oh crud, it was huge! And as beautiful as any she’d ever seen. “When did you put this on? More importantly, is this thing real?” she whispered. Thank goodness she had his arm to keep her steady. She was feeling faint at the idea of wearing a diamond that was probably worth more than her entire apartment. “I put it on you when we were married on the first of June in Monaco,” he whispered back. “And of course it’s real. I would never put something fake on the love of my life.” “Trevor, I’m serious,” she said. He made a face. “Okay. I slipped it on your finger when I was helping you out of the SUV. And yes, it’s real, so don’t lose it. I had to sign my life away to get it out of the DCO safes.” She gulped. “How much is it worth?” “Nothing compared to you, sweetheart,” he said in a romantic tone as they stopped in front of the two guards. The bouncers working this door were a little bit more

professional than the ones outside. “Can I help you?” one of the men asked in a deep, rough voice that made Alina wonder if he chewed gravel for fun. “Someone told me a man might be able to find a friendly game of poker somewhere near here,” Trevor said casually. “I don’t suppose you two might be able to point my wife and me in the right direction for a game like that?” The two men regarded him suspiciously. “I think you’re talking about the Horseshoe Casino,” Gravel said. “It’s nearby, very clean and friendly.” Trevor chuckled. “The Horseshoe is very friendly. But the place doesn’t have the quite the atmosphere we’re looking for. It’s a little too…what’s the word?…sanitized for our liking.” Gravel studied Trevor for a moment, then glanced at the bar, giving someone there a nod. Ten seconds later, a slim man in an expensive suit appeared at their side. “My name is Teddy,” he said in a cautious yet friendly tone. “What can I do for you?” “I’m Trevor Hoffman. This is my wife, Alina. We’re getting ready to head out on a cruise in a few days and decided to do some gambling while we’re in town. Someone told us this place runs a clean game, so I thought I’d spend some money here.” Teddy surveyed them with a practiced eye, taking in the cut of Trevor’s suit and her expensive gown, not to mention the big honking ring she wore. He must have liked what he saw, because he nodded. “If I could get some identification and a credit card from

you, Mr. Hoffman, I can quickly check your credentials and set you up with a line of credit.” Alina tensed as Trevor handed over the requested ID and credit card. They could be in trouble. The fake ID and credit card by themselves would have taken quite a bit of time and money to pull off. Coming up with an Internet background to support that would take even longer. “What are they going to find when they run your name and that credit card number?” she whispered as he slipped his arm around her and casually urged her away from the two men guarding the door. “Relax.” He flashed her a grin. “They’ll find us with all the relevant financial and societal tidbits one would expect to see when looking at the rich and bored.” She glanced at Teddy. He typed something into a computer just out of sight behind the bar. A moment later, he lifted his head and frowned in their direction. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. Even the two guards were eyeing them funny now. She was starting to wish she had a weapon. If things went bad, they were in trouble. “Alina,” Trevor said softly as he tightened his arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “Now’s the time for you to sell the newlywed thing.” She opened her mouth to ask him exactly how he suggested she do that when he pulled her even closer. She wished she could have said it was years of CIA training that took over and made her kiss him. But that wouldn’t have been true. Instead, it was a totally different

kind of instinct. The kind that made a woman want to kiss a hot guy. She weaved her fingers possessively into his dark hair, parting her lips and inviting his tongue in to play. Trevor slid one hand down her back, molding her so tightly against him she could feel the outline of every muscle in his amazing body. “Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman.” It took a minute for Teddy’s voice to register, and when it finally did, Alina reluctantly stepped away from Trevor. She swayed a little on her feet, suddenly breathless. If Trevor’s arm hadn’t been around her, she might have melted into a puddle on the floor. She’d never been affected by a kiss like that before. Teddy smiled at them. “I’ve started you with a hundredthousand-dollar line of credit. If you step this way, security can clear you. Then I can take you in so you can start enjoying your evening.” I was already enjoying my evening, Alina thought. Trevor looked at her, his mouth curving into a sexy grin, as if he’d been thinking the same thing. Teddy and the two guards might have thought the flickering yellow glow that rimmed Trevor’s eyes was a reflection of the light. But Alina knew better. As he stood there gazing at her while the guard waited with the handheld metal detector, she couldn’t help but wonder what that flash of gold had meant.

***

Trevor couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to bail on the mission and spend the rest of the night kissing Alina. He’d thought she was attractive the first time he’d seen her, but holding her in his arms and feeling her body against his, knowing she wasn’t wearing anything underneath that dress, damn near made him burst into flames. But then he remembered he might be only a few feet away from the man who’d built the bomb that had killed John. He couldn’t let this opportunity to get something on Thorn slip away, not after all the work Skye and Evan had done to track Shishani down. He owed John that much at the very least. He took a deep breath and got his inner animal under control. He hadn’t been quite sure about bringing Alina with him tonight, but Skye had convinced him that he stood a much better chance of getting into the place with the cover she’d concocted. Flat-out, a lone man trying to weasel his way into a private gambling establishment was an uphill battle, no matter how rich he was supposed to be. Besides, Skye had already created their fake identities and set everything up. According to her, it had been too late to change the plan. Trevor was pretty sure she’d been working him. In the end, though, Trevor hadn’t needed anyone to twist his arm to get him to go along with the plan. His head still wasn’t a hundred percent sold on his new partner, but his gut told him to trust her. “Just hand your credit chit to the dealer at the first table you choose,” Teddy said as he escorted them into the private gaming area.

Trevor thanked the man, fighting back the growl clawing its way out of his throat as Teddy gave Alina a long, lingering look before he walked away. The urge to rip the guy’s face off for having the balls even to lay eyes on her was so strong, his claws actually extended. He cursed under his breath and forced them back in. His animal nature was merely trying to lay claim to someone who didn’t belong to him. Alina was his partner, not his woman. That kiss, amazing as it had been, had just been part of their cover. “Chill the hell out,” he muttered to himself. “What was that?” Alina asked, raising her voice to be heard over the cheering at the nearest craps table. “Nothing,” Trevor said. “I was just saying it’s nicer in here than I imagined.” She turned slightly to survey the room, giving him a nice glimpse of cleavage. Couple that with the intoxicating pheromones she was putting off, and it was enough to make his inner coyote howl. Get a fucking grip! What the hell is going on in your head? “Is that him?” Alina asked, pulling him out of his daydreams. Trevor dragged his gaze away from her and looked over to see Shishani standing at one of the craps tables, dark eyes intent on the bets his fellow gamblers were placing while he sipped the drink in his hand. “Do we keep an eye on him until he leaves, then follow him?” Alina wanted to know.

Trevor shook his head. “No. As much as he likes to gamble, he could be here until this place closes. I sure as hell don’t feel like waiting around that long to talk to him.” “You have a better plan?” she prompted. “Yeah, I do. One that revolves around you and your distracting beauty.” She appreciated the compliment—again—but couldn’t help but grimace. “I hesitate to ask.” Trevor gave her a smile as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and came out with two very fancy-looking pens. She watched curiously as he turned toward the wall— probably so no camera could see what he was doing—and started taking the pens apart. One held a tiny vial…like one of those tubes that sample perfumes came in. The other contained a tiny piece of plastic, not much bigger than the eraser on a pencil. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing too extreme. Which, I admit, is rather disappointing for me.” He motioned off to the left with his chin. “The restrooms are down a hallway over in that direction. At the end of that corridor is an emergency exit. As you can imagine in a place like this, the hallway is covered by cameras, and the door is heavily alarmed.” He held up the small piece of plastic. “Step one of the plan involves me planting this device in the hallway. When I activate it, it will momentarily pause the cameras and trip a piece of software code in the security system that will disengage the door lock and alarm. Once I activate the device, it should give us about thirty seconds to get Shishani out the door and into the alley out back.”

“Nice toy,” she murmured, looking at the tiny device. “But I have a question. How are we going to get Shishani into that hallway so we can get him out the door?” Trevor held up the small glass vial. “That’s where this— and you—come in.” “You want me to drug him?” she asked in confusion, having a hard time imagining how that was going to help. “Don’t you think security will get suspicious when Shishani starts stumbling around as we lead him toward the restroom?” Trevor chuckled. “It’s not that kind of drug. It’s a powerful diuretic designed to make him have to go to the bathroom really badly—as in really, really badly. We simply need to follow him casually down the hall when that happens and take him right out the back.” Alina had to admit, that seemed like a pretty good plan. “You need me to slip the drug into his drink?” Trevor shook his head. “I can do that. I need you to distract him—and anyone else who might be looking our way—long enough to let me do it.” She looked doubtful. “What if I can’t distract him, or anyone else, long enough for you to slip it in his drink?” Trevor arched a brow as he slowly scanned her up and down. “Something tells me that’s not going to be an issue. If anything, you’ll have so many guys after you, we’ll never make it to the back hallway without a bunch of them following you like lovesick puppies.” She laughed. “You’re really good for a girl’s ego, you know that?”

“Just one of the many services I provide.” He flashed her a grin. “You ready to go work your way close to him at the craps table while I slip off to the bathroom and plant this device? It will be easier for you to get close to him if I’m not with you at first.” “Okay,” she said. Giving him a smile, she flipped her long, red-gold hair over her shoulder and headed for the table and the man who had almost certainly made the bomb that had killed John. Trevor followed, then turned toward the back of the club and the security bug he needed to set up. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could get back here and keep an eye on Alina, because suddenly, the idea of leaving her alone anywhere near Shishani didn’t sit well with him.

Chapter 7 Trevor couldn’t believe Alina had been concerned she wouldn’t be able to distract Shishani—and most of the other men around the craps table. All she had to do was smile and laugh at Trevor’s quips, and she had almost every person around looking her way. When Alina turned and ask the table in general why a certain bet had been made, it was insanely simple to step closer to Shishani and slip the drug in his drink. From that point forward, it was simply a waiting game, though he had to admit he didn’t like the way their suspect kept leaning over to try and engage Alina in conversation. Yeah, she wasn’t really his wife, but Trevor still had a nearly uncontrollable urge to rip the man to shreds. And no, it had nothing to do with being this close to one of the men responsible for John’s death. He took an almost perverse pleasure in watching Shishani squirm when the drug started kicking in. A minute later, the man excused himself from the table and made a beeline for the bathroom. Alina gave Trevor a questioning look, but he

shook his head. Let the guy do his business first. They’d grab him as he was coming out of the bathroom. Trevor purposely made a lousy bet, then announced he was going to try his hand at roulette, grabbed Alina’s hand, and headed for the nearest table. Halfway there, he veered toward the back of the club instead. Trevor activated the bug the moment he and Alina stepped into the hallway, and Shishani stepped out of the men’s restroom. Fortunately, there was no one else in the corridor or anywhere nearby, which would make this a whole lot easier. The man’s eyes lit up when he saw Alina, but then his face took on a confused expression when he saw Trevor, too. The crazy urge to renovate the man’s face reared its ugly head, and it was all Trevor could do not to snarl. Keeping his inner coyote in check, Trevor walked straight up to the bomber and wrapped his hand around the back of the man’s neck, slinging Shishani face-first into the opposite wall. It wasn’t hard enough to knock the guy out, but it was enough to knock a dent in the sheetrock and send Shishani bouncing backward like a pinball. Alina had the door open by the time Trevor grabbed his arm and shoved him out into the night. The alley behind the building butted up against a high fence that separated this part of Worchester Street from the train tracks. It was pitch-black and reeked of spoiled food, spilled beer, and nasty Dumpsters. One end of the alley led toward the parking lot, while the other meandered through trash and other junk.

Trevor dragged Shishani a little farther down the alley so no one peeking out of the club would see them. Alina hung back and kept an eye on the door just in case. He thumped Shishani up against the wall of the building, behind a tall Dumpster that smelled like it was used to store zombie bait for the coming apocalypse, and gave the man a shake. “Wakey, wakey, Mr. Shishani,” he said. “Time to talk about a bomb you recently made.” The man’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Trevor in confusion for a moment. Then his eyes went wide. “I don’t have any money,” he said in a damn good imitation of a Northeast accent. No wonder he’d blended in so easily after coming here from Chechnya. Trevor wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and lifted him off the ground, holding him pinned to the wall. “Don’t bother pretending you didn’t hear what I said, Mr. Shishani. I’m not buying it.” Shishani mumbled something that sounded like okay, but with his hand around the guy’s neck, it was hard to tell. Trevor let the guy slide down the wall. “Talk.” Shishani threw Alina a desperate look. “Lady, you have to help me. I was just smiling at you. I had no idea your husband was the jealous type. I swear I don’t know who this Shishani guy is you’re looking for. My name is Smith… Doug Smith.” Trevor growled softly and picked Shishani up by the throat again, holding him there while Alina moved closer. “You might as well kill him. He’s not going to talk,” she

said calmly. “No one will find him for weeks back here. They certainly won’t smell his body, that’s for sure.” Shishani’s dark eyes widened as Trevor continued to hold him prisoner. When Trevor dropped him this time, the man was much more cooperative. “What do you want?” Shishani asked. “I don’t even know who you are. I haven’t done anything to you.” “You didn’t do anything to me, but you did do something to a friend of mine,” Trevor growled. “You built a bomb that killed a federal agent near Quantico a month ago. I want to know who paid you.” The man’s eyes bulged as he shook his head. “I can’t talk about that. It would get me killed.” Trevor tightened his grip on the man’s throat again but didn’t lift him off the ground this time. Beside him, Alina made a show of looking down at her shoes like she was worried she was getting something nasty on them. “You might be killed if you talk, but you definitely won’t be making it out of this alley if you don’t,” Trevor said. “Your call.” Shishani glanced at Alina to see if there might be some help coming from that direction. When that didn’t work, he threw a quick look at the parking lot at the end of the alley. No luck there, either. “Okay, okay. I made the bomb,” the man admitted. “But I swear I didn’t plant it. I didn’t even know who the target was. I got a call on the Sunday before the bombing and was told that I’d be given a large sum of money if I could build a powerful bomb—fast. When I said I couldn’t do it quickly

because I had no explosives, I was given the address of a warehouse near Woodbridge. When I went there, I found C4 plastic explosives, blasting caps, and electronic parts. They were all military-grade material. The best I’ve ever worked with. I didn’t sleep for three nights so I could get it done in time and finished just before I got a call early on Tuesday morning. I delivered the finished bomb in an empty copier paper box to a facility near Quantico. Then I went home. I didn’t know that the bomb had been used to kill someone who worked for the U.S. government until later the next day. Even then, the news did not say who the person was, just that it was someone who worked there.” “Who did you deliver the bomb to?” Trevor demanded. It had been one thing when he’d thought Shishani had made the bomb. Now that he knew for sure, it was difficult not killing the piece of shit on the spot. “I never saw who picked it up,” Shishani said. “I dropped it off behind the visitor’s center just outside the gate. There was no one in the parking lot when I left, so I have no idea who took it.” “Who paid you for the bomb?” Trevor asked, his voice coming out in a barely disguised growl. Shishani looked like he was about to waffle, but whatever he saw in Trevor’s expression must have changed his mind. “It was Thomas Thorn.” He wet his lips. “I have done many jobs for him over the years. He pays well. He would likely pay you, too, if you keep your nose out of this.” Trevor glanced at Alina. She looked stunned. He couldn’t blame her. It was one thing to suspect a man like Thorn, but

to have actual proof was something else entirely. “Thorn won’t be paying me anything,” Trevor announced. “Because we’re going to take you straight to the nearest federal attorney’s office, and you’re going to tell them everything you just told me. Word for word.” Smith shook his head wildly. “I’m not going to do that. It would be suicide!” Trevor was about to point out that not testifying would be suicide as well, but before he got the chance, the back door slammed open, and heavy footsteps echoed on the ground. He cursed, pissed that he’d been so focused on Shishani that he hadn’t paid attention to what was going on inside the club. He barely had enough time to breathe before four big bouncers raced around the side of the Dumpster, their hands on the weapons holsters behind their backs, their bodies tense and ready for violence. The sight of Alina standing there in her fancy cocktail dress slowed them for a moment, but then Shishani cried out for help. Trevor cursed as the armed men whipped out their pistols. It would have been a lot easier if he and Alina had been carrying weapons, but there was no way they would have gotten them past the metal detectors. That meant he had to improvise. Grabbing a handful of Shishani’s suit jacket, Trevor spun around, tossing the man at the bouncers, knocking two of them down in a tangle of arms and legs and sending the other two backpedaling to avoid going down in the heap. The two bouncers on the ground fired their weapons,

sending bullets zinging around the alley. Shit. Knowing he had to move fast, Trevor shifted, allowing his claws to slip out a little bit so he had at least something to fight these trigger-happy psychos with. He was about to launch himself at the men on the ground when he caught sight of one of the other bouncers turning his big handgun in Alina’s direction. Twisting that way instead, he lunged forward with a growl, slashing at the man’s arm, tearing through the suit fabric and slicing the flesh underneath open to the bone. The man cried out and immediately dropped his weapon. Trevor kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backward to bounce off the fence. The man’s head hit one of the metal support poles with a thud, and he dropped to the ground, out cold. Trevor spun to face the other bouncer who was still on his feet, worried he’d shoot Alina, and found her kicking the guy’s ass. She’d obviously ditched her high heels at some point, because she was barefoot as she spun and lashed out with her leg, the slit in her gown making it easy for her to pull off the complex Taekwondo move. Even so, the urge to run to her defense was nearly impossible to ignore. When she planted her heel in the center of the guy’s face, Trevor decided she had the situation under control. He turned to deal with the two men he’d left sprawling on the ground a few moments earlier and found one of the bouncers pointing his weapon straight at him. Trevor jumped to the side just as the man fired, avoiding a

fatal gunshot but still feeling a line of fire cut across the right side of his rib cage as the bullet grazed him. Letting out a growl, he charged forward, closing the distance between him and the asshole before the guy could get off another shot. He could easily have laid the man’s throat open, but he didn’t. The guy was simply out here doing what he thought was his job, even if it was for an illegal gambling operation. So instead, Trevor closed his hand into a fist and popped the guy a blow across the jaw that staggered the big man. Before the guard could collect himself, Trevor grabbed him and tossed him toward the Dumpster. The man hit the heavy metal bin so hard it slid a couple of inches, then he dropped to the ground unconscious. The last remaining bouncer must have decided the odds didn’t look so favorable anymore, because he turned and hightailed it for the back door of the club. Alina started to go after him, but Trevor caught her arm. “Forget it. Let’s get Shishani, and get the hell out of here before anyone else shows up.” She nodded. But when they turned to look for Shishani, they found him lying on the ground where Trevor had tossed him earlier, a single bullet hole through the center of his chest. Their chance to put Thorn away had died along with him. “Fuck,” Trevor growled. “A stray round from one of those trigger-happy buffoons must have hit him.” Alina crouched to check the man’s pulse anyway. A moment later, she stood up. “Do we call the cops?”

Trevor shook his head. “We can’t. It would tip off Thorn to what we were doing. As bad as it sounds, we need to bail. Chances are the police will never find out about this. Dead bodies aren’t exactly good for business, and this isn’t the kind of establishment that can handle the scrutiny of a murder investigation. In an hour, this place will be cleaned up, and the body will be gone. It will be like none of this ever happened.” Alina didn’t seem thrilled with the idea of leaving, but there wasn’t much else they could do. Nodding, she started down the alley, slowing only long enough to pick up her discarded heels and tiny evening bag. Trevor looked down at Shishani’s body. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that the man was dead. His bomb had killed John. But he was pissed to be back at square one in his search to pin something on Thorn. Almost pissed enough not to notice how badly the right side of his rib cage burned. As he turned and jogged down the alley after Alina, a realization struck him. He’d assumed he was back to square one, but after tonight, maybe it was time to start thinking about them being back to square one.

*** Alina reached for her door handle the moment Trevor pulled into a space in front of her apartment complex. She was still annoyed at him for hiding that he’d been shot. She’d only realized it because he’d grabbed a T-shirt from the duffel bag behind the seat and pressed it to his ribs.

“It’s just a scratch,” he’d insisted when she asked how badly he was hurt. The amount of blood on the T-shirt said otherwise. Ignoring the fact that he was driving, she’d reached across the center console and yanked his jacket open, then pried the makeshift compress away from his ribs so she could see for herself. It was a hell of a lot more than a scratch. His white dress shirt was soaked with dark-red blood. She’d wanted to head for the first hospital they could find, but he’d refused. “The doctors would immediately recognize it as a bullet wound and call the cops,” Trevor said. “There’s no way I could explain how I ended up this way, and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to risk word of it getting back to Dick or Thorn. I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll fix myself up once I get home.” Then he’d told her that his idea of fixing himself up included pieces of old T-shirts and duct tape. “No, you’re not,” Alina had said. “We’re going to my place, and I’m going to bandage you up.” The moment Trevor put the SUV in park, she was out and heading for the driver’s side. She needn’t have bothered. He was already coming around to meet her like he wasn’t injured at all. “Couldn’t someone at the DCO complex have looked at you?” she asked as they headed upstairs to the second floor. “They have doctors and a medical facility there, right?” “Yeah, but again, I can’t go there without taking a risk that Dick or Thorn would hear about it.” Alina shook her head. Trevor had some serious trust

issues, bordering on paranoia. But if all this stuff they were learning about Thorn was true, maybe he had good reason to be paranoid. She only hoped she wouldn’t get him upstairs to find out that his injuries were worse than he thought. Then what the heck was she going to do? They made it upstairs without running into anyone. Once on the second floor, she practically tiptoed passed Kathy’s door, praying Molly didn’t smell her and want to come right over. That was all Alina needed, a curious Kathy asking all kinds of complicated questions while Molly jumped around like a crazy dog, wondering who the hell this new guy in her apartment was. “Take off your jacket and shirt,” she ordered as soon as they were inside. “I’ll get the first aid kit.” Trevor headed into the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket as he went, while she darted into the bathroom. Her supplies weren’t anything a military medic would be impressed with, but there was definitely a lot more stuff than would be found in a typical home first aid kit. When she hurried into the kitchen a few moments later, she found Trevor over by the table, attempting to wipe the worst of the blood off his torso with the remains of his expensive button-down. Alina stopped, transfixed by the sight of her partner standing there with his shirt off, blood oozing from a long horizontal gash along his right side. For a second, she flashed back to an image of Fred lying in her arms, blood soaking through his shirt as he bled to death. That visual shook her so hard, she could barely breathe. Cursing under

her breath, she got a grip on herself. Her partner was bleeding, and she needed to help him. “Don’t bother with that,” she said. Taking the bloody shirt out of his hands, she dropped it in the trash can. It was ruined beyond all possible repair. She grabbed a hand towel off the hook by the fridge and soaked it under the faucet, then pulled a chair out at the kitchen table and sat. “Move closer,” she instructed. “Let me get you cleaned up and see how bad this wound is.” “I’m fine, Alina. The guy barely nicked me,” Trevor protested but obeyed. “Most of this blood is from right after it happened. It’s probably already stopped bleeding.” “Right,” she muttered as she gently began cleaning the skin around the gash across his ribs with the washcloth. Damn, it looked more like he’d been torn open with a dull chainsaw blade than hit with a bullet. It must have skipped along the muscles and bones instead of going straight through. She supposed that was a good thing. Still, the slice seemed deep. Any rational person would have been in an emergency room right now, demanding sutures and pain meds. Trevor was right about one thing, though. The worst of the bleeding had stopped. If anything, it looked like the gash was actually starting to seal itself with new flesh. That was hard to believe, considering how severe the wound had been. She’d never been one to get queasy at the sight of blood, but since her partner was the one bleeding, it got to her a little more than usual.

“Talk to me,” she said as she used the towel to wipe up a fresh dribble of blood running down his lower ribs. “So I don’t have to think about what the hell I’m doing.” “What would you like to talk about?” he asked. “Other than my inability to avoid getting shot, I mean.” She couldn’t believe he was cracking jokes. “I don’t care. Anything.” When he didn’t respond, she decided to ask him about something that had been on her mind ever since she’d seen the way he moved tonight. “Why don’t you tell me about what else you can do as a shifter? I’m not sure why, but I’d assumed that your abilities were limited to keen senses, claws, and fangs. But after seeing you fight, I’m guessing there’s more to it than that?” He shrugged, making the gash start bleeding again. “You’ve pretty much seen the majority of what I can do.” He paused as she tossed one bloody towel in the trash and grabbed a fresh one. “Beyond all the enhanced senses, I’m faster than a normal person, both in speed and reflexes. I’m stronger than someone twice my size, and I can take a lot more punishment as well as heal faster. Within a couple of hours, this”—he pointed at the wound—“will be closed up completely, and in a few days, it’ll look like it’s months old. It won’t be long before you’ll have to know it was there to even find it.” “That must come in handy,” she said, wishing like hell her teammates in the CIA had been shifters. Maybe some of them would still be alive. “I won’t lie and say my healing ability hasn’t saved my ass

a time or two,” he admitted. “But I try to use my coyote instincts to keep from getting into screwed-up situations in the first place. Trust me, I’d much prefer to be clever and tricky and not get shot at all.” “I’m all for that,” she agreed. Thankfully, the gash had stopped bleeding for the most part. It was still painful looking, but she breathed a sigh of relief knowing he was going to be okay. “So what happened tonight?” She tossed the second towel in the trash and picked up a third to clean off the dried blood from the rest of his torso. “Why didn’t your coyote instincts for trouble keep you from getting hit?” “I don’t know. I guess I was a little distracted.” Trevor didn’t elaborate. Then again, he didn’t need to. Alina was well aware of the fact that he’d taken a bullet because he’d been worried about one hitting her. She’d seen him jump to take out that big guard as the man had been about to shoot her. “Thanks for covering my back,” she said softly. “I know you got hit because you were more worried about me than yourself, so…thanks.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We’re partners.” Trevor might have been making light of what he’d done, but Alina appreciated it more than she could put into words. She hadn’t had a real partner since Turkey, and it wasn’t until now that she realized the biggest thing she’d missed was knowing she had someone who’d watch her back. Tears suddenly filled her eyes, and she forced herself to

finish cleaning off the dried blood on Trevor’s stomach. It was while she was absorbed in the meticulous task of wiping down every square inch of exposed skin that she became aware of the fact that he was an extremely fit man. It was hard to miss when her face was only inches from his very well-defined abs. Well, she’d been looking for something else to focus on so she wouldn’t start crying, and Trevor was definitely a distraction. Her partner had the body of a Roman god, with shoulders, pecs, and arm muscles that made it obvious he worked out a lot. But he also had that lean, ripped look to him that make her think more of Tarzan than a weightlifter. And the way those rippling abs disappeared into his beltline, showing off just the sexiest hint of happy trail was definitely interesting. As she lightly traced the wet towel back and forth across his lower abs and that absolutely mouthwatering trail of manliness, it dawned on her that she was in a somewhat compromising position. Seated in front of Trevor, her hand inches from his belt buckle and the very obvious bulge in his dress pants, thoughts of tending to his wound suddenly took a backseat to the memories of what it had been like kissing him tonight. And the stuff she was remembering weren’t the kind of thoughts she should have been having about her partner. Alina knew it was supposed to have been a fake kiss as part of their cover, but if it had been fake, then her real sex life clearly sucked, because she’d never been that turned on from a kiss in her life. She’d actually gotten excited from a

thirty-second make-out session in the middle of a crowded club, which was completely crazy. She wasn’t a teenager. She wasn’t supposed to get all tingly from a simple kiss. If they hadn’t been on a mission, she could only wonder how far she would have been willing to take things. Crap, she was getting tingly all over again, simply thinking about Trevor’s lips on her. Not to mention the feel of his strong, muscular body under her fingers. Strong, muscular body under her fingers. Say what? Alina gave herself a shake and discovered that at some point, she’d tossed the last washcloth in the trash and was running her hands back and forth across Trevor’s drum-tight abs, getting damn close to the danger zone around his belt buckle. “I’m pretty sure you’ve gotten all the blood off,” Trevor said from above her. She jerked her hands away as if he were on fire. Which, she guessed, he kind of was. Because she was definitely going to get burned if she kept playing this game. And he definitely hadn’t missed her unprofessional grope fest. She didn’t dare look up at him as she took out a handful of sterile pads and a roll of gauze bandage from her first aid kit. Knowing she was probably blushing furiously, she kept her head down and focused on wrapping the stretchy gauze tightly around his ribs. But focusing was harder to do than she imagined, because she was getting turned on as hell. She was more aroused than she’d been in a really really long time. What the hell was wrong with her?

She’d never been the kind of woman to go all gaga over a guy, no matter how hot his abs happened to be. Yet here she was in front of her partner, telling herself it wasn’t okay to hump his leg or yank open his belt buckle. She determinedly forced her hormones back under control. Thankfully, Trevor had no idea what he was doing to her. She would have been mortified if he’d known how turned on she was. Alina finished the wrap, then added some surgical tape to keep everything in place. Whether she wanted to or not, it was time to stand up and look her partner in the eye. “I think we’re good here,” she said softly as she rose to her feet. Trevor stood there, barely a foot of space between them, his naked chest and shoulders so close that it was hard not reaching out and touching them. His dark eyes were thoughtful, and Alina waited for him to say something snarky…or teasing. He didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he stepped a little closer so all those spectacular chest muscles were mere millimeters away from her breasts. “We certainly are good here, aren’t we?” he said, his voice warm and smooth, like melted chocolate, almost making her melt in return. Alina’s breath hitched. Trevor was going to kiss her. Just like he had back in that club in Baltimore. Except this time, there wasn’t anything to interrupt them.

Chapter 8 Alina didn’t care that kissing her partner was crazy. Telling the tiny rational voice in the back of her head urging her to be cautious to shut the hell up, she placed one hand on that beautiful chest of his, licked her lips, and prepared to meet his lips head-on. Then the door to her apartment opened, immediately followed by the sounds of running doggy feet. Trevor had already stepped back by the time Molly rounded the corner and raced into the kitchen in her exuberant fashion. Catching sight of Trevor, she stopped cold with the oddest expression Alina had ever seen on her dog’s furry face. “You decent in there?” Kathy came around the corner…and stopped cold with the oddest expression Alina had ever seen on her friend’s nonfurry face. “O-kay, apparently not,” Kathy said after a few moments, one brow arched high as she took in Trevor’s naked chest, Alina’s sexy dress, the bandages around his torso, and the

scant distance between the two of them. “Should I come back later?” she asked coyly. “Like in the morning, with two cups of coffee and a box of doughnuts?” Alina forced out a laugh. “Very funny, Kathy. But it’s not like that.” Kathy nodded slowly, still looking pointedly at her. “No?” “No,” Alina insisted. “Trevor got a little nicked up while we were working tonight, and I was applying some first aid.” “Uh-huh,” Kathy said, giving her a knowing look. That was when Alina realized her hand was still resting casually—even possessively—against Trevor’s chest. Refusing to let her friend see her squirm, she slowly took her hand away from all that muscle. “You two have obviously figured this part out, but to make it official, Kathy, this is my new partner, Trevor Maxwell. Trevor, this is my best friend, neighbor, and longterm dog sitter, Kathy McGee.” “That’s Kathy with a K,” her friend said, not even trying to hide the fact that she was blatantly ogling his naked upper body as she stepped forward to shake his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard a lot about you. Though I must admit, in the stories Alina told me, you were fully clothed.” “Kathy!” Alina said. “Are you trying to embarrass me to death in front of my partner?” Her friend held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m just having a little fun. Sheesh. Remember, I work from home, so I don’t get a chance to see half-dressed men

that often.” Alina wanted to ask if that disappointing fact included Kathy’s boyfriend, Armen, but decided not to go there. Kathy very well might tell them more than they really wanted to know. Silence descended over the crowded kitchen, and for a moment, Alina was worried Kathy might open her unfiltered mouth and say something else completely inappropriate. Fortunately, Molly chose that moment to point out that no one had bothered to introduce her to the new man in the room, so she walked up and wedged herself firmly in between Alina and Trevor, looking at him with her head tilted sideways in obvious confusion. “This is Molly,” Alina said. “She’s my fur baby, though she spends most of her time with Kathy.” As Trevor squatted down to ruffle her dog’s ears, Alina wondered if Molly had somehow picked up on the fact that there was something different about him…that he was a shifter. It definitely seemed like it. Molly sniffed Trevor’s hands like crazy in between regarding him with a clearly baffled expression, as if her nose and eyes were telling her two different things. Regardless of Molly’s confusion, it was safe to say she was captivated by Trevor. Even after he stopped petting her and stood up to slip back into his suit jacket, Molly sat there in front of him, her tongue hanging out in joy and her tail wagging a hundred miles an hour. I feel you, Molly. There’s definitely something about him that really gets to you, isn’t there?

Alina caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Kathy wander over to take a look at the first aid kit still on the kitchen table. Fortunately, the last towel she’d tossed in the trash had been relatively blood-free and covered up the worst of the mess in there. Kathy would lose her mind if she saw all that blood. “I’ve heard rumors about the federal government running on a tight budget these days, but don’t tell me they expect you two to provide your own medical care?” Kathy asked. Trevor chuckled. “No. I could have gone to the hospital, but the paperwork would have been horrendous. I didn’t want to deal with it, since it was a little scratch. I was going to ignore it, but Alina wanted to bandage it up.” Kathy laughed. “Well, at least she’s getting some use out of the kitchen. It’s not like she cooks in here.” “That’s not true!” Alina protested. “I cook.” “I’m not talking about the kind of cooking I just walked in on,” Kathy said. “I meant the kind with food, pots, and pans. And before you say it, poking the buttons on the microwave doesn’t count.” Alina’s mouth fell open, not sure if she was more offended by Kathy’s sly sexual innuendo or the fact that her best friend had just outed her complete lack of cooking skills. She was about to blast Kathy with a snappy comeback —as soon as she came up with one—only to be interrupted by her partner. “So, Kathy, you take care of Alina’s dog every day, even when she’s traveling? How do you pull that off and work too?”

Kathy smiled. “I work from home, so it’s not a big deal.” When Trevor returned her smile with one of those roguish grins of his, Alina thought her friend might melt right there on the spot. “Do you telecommute or own your own business?” he asked. “Kathy owns her own business,” Alina answered quickly. Her friend didn’t like to talk about how she made a living. “She sells socks on the Internet.” Trevor looked back and forth from her to Kathy and back again, as if he expected one of them to start laughing and say, just kidding. When neither of them did, he turned to Kathy. “Socks…seriously?” “Yes. I sell socks on the Internet,” Kathy admitted, slightly indignant, before turning to shoot Alina a vindictive glare. “And I’ll have you know that I sell a lot of them, thank you very much.” Trevor glanced at Alina, who shrugged. “I have to admit, she’s right about that. As crazy as it sounds, she makes a buttload of money selling socks.” “So how exactly does one get into the sock business?” he asked Kathy, his face completely serious. Which was a good thing, since Kathy could get rather irate if she thought people were ragging on her chosen line of work. “Purely by accident,” Kathy explained. “A couple of years ago, I went to this outlet center down near Potomac Mills specifically to buy these thick, warm socks that I loved. They were cozy to wear around the house or in bed but were

also perfect with the shoes I wear. I’d go through a dozen pairs a year, I wore them so much.” Trevor frowned in confusion. “Okay, not seeing the start of a thriving new business yet.” Kathy held up a finger. “I’m getting there.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, a move that only served to tighten his abs and make him look more delicious than ever. And yeah, Kathy noticed. She almost lost her place in the story as her gaze was drawn to that rippling display of muscles just above Trevor’s belt. What was it about tight abs that did it for almost every woman on the planet? “So,” Kathy continued, “I go to this outlet store I’d been going to three or four times a year only to find out they no longer sold my favorite socks. I completely freaked! And I wasn’t the only one. There were three other women there who were as upset as I was. But the manager of the store said the company discontinued the entire line and told me there was nothing she could do about it.” “That must have been traumatic,” Trevor said, still somehow managing to keep a straight face. “It was,” Kathy agreed, apparently not noticing how hard Trevor was fighting to keep from grinning. “So I came home and ended up finding the socks I liked online being made overseas. The only problem was that I had to buy in bulk—a hundred pairs. I was desperate, so I bought them, figuring I could sell some of the extras to other people I knew who loved the socks as much as I did. Those friends and acquaintances ended up buying every

single pair I’d ordered before they even arrived. So I ordered more, and people bought those, too. The next thing I know, I’m quitting my day job so I can stay home and sell socks on the Internet.” She smiled. “Honestly, I couldn’t do any of it without my boyfriend, Armen. He’s the one who makes most of the deliveries to UPS.” “He drives a minivan,” Alina pointed out, not because she thought Trevor would be interested in that fact, but because she liked to tease her friend about it. “What’s wrong with minivans?” Kathy demanded. “Nothing at all,” Alina said before turning to Trevor with a mock whisper behind her hand. “She won’t admit it, but I think Kathy has a thing for guys who drive minivans.” Kathy rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. Minivans really get me going. And guys who drive minivans? You just can’t get any hotter than that.” They all laughed at that, then talked a little more about minivans, socks, and working from home before Kathy announced she needed to head back to her place and get some work done before she went to bed. “Besides,” she added with a smile, “I’m sure you two would probably rather get back to what you were doing before I interrupted.” Alina laughed, but now that she thought about it, having Trevor all to herself again might be fun. “See you in the morning,” Alina said to her friend as she held the door open for her. “I’ll drop Molly off at the normal time.” “Really?” Kathy whispered as she stood in there in the

doorway, glancing at Trevor, who was still in the living room playing with Molly. “Any chance you two might, you know, sleep in a little late tomorrow?” Alina wasn’t sure how to answer, especially considering the fact that Trevor had probably heard every word of it. Finally, she shook her head and went with the safe response, just in case. “Like I said. Trevor’s my partner. It’s not like that.” Kathy nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “We’ll see.” Alina closed the door and turned to find that Molly had hopped up on the couch and assumed her normal comfy position to one side of the cozy sectional. But this time, instead of staring at the TV waiting for Alina to turn it on, her fur baby was staring intently at both of them, apparently waiting to see what was going to happen next. Alina had to admit, she was curious about that, too. Trevor walked over to meet her as she crossed the living room, and for a second, she thought her partner was going to sweep her into his arms. But instead, he stopped a few paces short and nodded toward the door. “I should be going, too. I have to get up early to make it up here in time to pick you up and get us to work on time.” She was confused for a moment, not sure what he meant by that. Then she remembered her car was still down at the DCO training complex in Quantico, nearly an hour away. Crap, she’d completely forgotten that. “You sure you don’t might driving up here to pick me up in the morning?” she asked. “The traffic coming north will suck if you’re not here early.”

He grinned and took a step closer, and suddenly, the possibility of a kiss coming her way was back on the menu. “I don’t mind,” he said softly. “Something tells me I’m not going to get a lot of sleep tonight anyway.” Her breath caught at the implication in his words. She guessed he’d been having more than a few unprofessional thoughts of his own this evening. For some insane reason, that made her happy. She licked her lips, ready for what she was sure was coming next, when Trevor’s damn cell phone rang. Crap, if they were interrupted one more time, she was going to scream. Trevor growled as he pulled out his phone. He glanced at the number, frowning as he answered it. “Hold on a second,” Trevor said. “Alina’s with me. Let me put you on the speaker.” A moment later, Seth Larson’s voice came over the phone. “You gave me your number and said I should call if I needed to. Well…I needed to.” “What’s wrong?” Alina asked. “Is Cody okay?” “Yeah, he’s okay, just a little freaked out. Earlier tonight, some thugs from the DCO came to visit. They were real assholes, asking me all kinds of questions regarding what you and I talked about, what I’d seen that morning, who else I might have talked to.” “What’d you tell them?” Trevor asked. “As little as possible. I mentioned you guys thought I might have seen something the morning of the bombing, but I told them I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t even bring up the

employee photos you sent to me. I kind of got the feeling you wouldn’t want me to say anything about it.” “That’s good,” Trevor said. “Did Cody have a problem with them being there?” On the other end of the line, Seth sighed. “Yeah. They got a little physical with me, and Cody didn’t handle it well. It took two hours to calm him down.” “I’m sorry, Seth,” Trevor said, his jaw tightening in anger. “I didn’t intend for any of this to come back on you.” “I know. Don’t worry about it. We’ll be okay. The only thing that bothered me is that they showed up at my place. How did those guys know you’d come to see me?” Trevor looked at Alina. “I’m not sure, Seth. I guess the information must have fallen into the wrong people’s hands.” Alina winced. It was obvious Trevor had a good idea where those thugs had gotten their information. She’d told Dick, and Dick had sent some goons down there to check out her story. She hadn’t told Dick anything specific, but it had been enough to put Seth Larson on the man’s radar. She was angry at herself, but more than anything else, she was disappointed. It sucked knowing she was the reason those men had shown up and scared Cody. And it double sucked that Trevor, a partner she’d been getting closer to by the minute, was looking at her like she’d betrayed him. “Hey, before you get the impression that it’s all dark clouds and spilt milk,” Seth added in a lighter tone, “I also called you to say I talked to that friend of yours. He lined me up some pretty cool IT work. He’s even going to come

in and set up a home office with a secure computer network for me. It sounds like a pretty sweet deal, so I just wanted to say thanks. I really appreciate it.” Trevor’s mouth edged up. “I’m glad to hear that. If anyone has earned the right for something good to happen in their life, it’s you.” Seth didn’t think that was true, but he said he wasn’t going to turn down the job offer regardless. “I’m too desperate to stand on principle.” They talked for another minute or two, then Seth hung up after promising to let them know if anyone else from the DCO showed up. Alina expected Trevor to immediately ask her who the hell she’d told about Seth. He had every right to. She’d screwed up. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave her a nod and headed for the door, his face an expressionless mask. That was ten times worse than anything he could have said to her. “See you tomorrow morning?” she asked as he turned the knob. He hesitated for a moment but didn’t look back at her. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” Then he was out the door and gone, leaving Alina feeling like ten pounds of crap as she wandered over and collapsed on the couch beside Molly. Her fur baby put her head on Alina’s lap with a sigh, as if she completely understood what Alina was going through. “What the hell am I going to do, girl?” she whispered. “I was hired to figure out if Trevor was a bad guy, but right now, I’m the only one betraying anybody.”

Molly lifted one brow, then the other, apparently as torn as her human happened to be. Clearly, there wouldn’t be any advice coming from her canine companion. Alina sat there caressing Molly’s fur and trying to figure out what the heck she was going to do. She’d spent the past three years hating Wade for betraying her team, and yet here she was, doing the same thing. No, she hadn’t gotten anybody killed, but she still felt like crap on a stick. She was still staring restlessly at the wall when she heard her phone ringing from nearby. It took her a moment to remember she’d tossed her little purse on the couch when she and Trevor had come in. She looked around and realized that Molly was lying on it. After yanking the purse from under her, Alina dug out her phone, hoping it was Trevor. But it wasn’t her partner. It was Dick. Alina groaned. She’d completely forgotten Dick said he wanted updates from her every night. Her thumb hovered over the green button, but she just couldn’t tap it. Between kissing Trevor, confirming Thorn’s involvement in the bombing, seeing their witness to that fact die right in front of them, then discovering Dick had sent men to harass Seth, there was no way in hell she was going to tell her new boss anything. She let the call go to voice mail, then stood. She was exhausted and needed to get cleaned up before going to bed. She doubted she’d get much sleep, but she might as well try. “Come on, Molly. Let’s get ready for bed. If nothing else, at least I can watch you sleep.”

*** Tanner wasn’t sure if the preseason football game he was watching on the TV in his DCO dorm room was happening in real time or whether it was a replay. Considering it was nearly one in the morning, it had to be the latter. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he was paying attention to the game anyway. As usual, he was thinking about Zarina. He ran his hand through his mane of dark-blond hair and took another long drink from his fourth bottle of Mountain Dew for the night. While there were no bars on the windows or padlocks on the door of his small efficiency apartment, he was as much a prisoner here as Sage was in her cell. The only difference was that his imprisonment was selfimposed. He could walk away at any time, but for reasons he was only now starting to explore, he stayed here surrounded by people who considered him to be little more than a monster. At first, he’d told himself it was so he could get a handle on the hybrid rages that happened whenever he got angry. To be truthful, he’d succeeded in that. Until this most recent slipup with Sage, he hadn’t lost it in months. But instead of leaving, he’d convinced himself if he stayed a little longer, Zarina might actually find a way to rid him of his animal side. It was a long shot, but it allowed him to justify staying. Staring at the TV now, his mind a thousand miles away from the football game, he finally admitted it wasn’t his control issues or the cure for them that kept him here. It was Zarina. And the fact that he loved her so much it hurt.

Tanner took another swig of soda and glanced at the big throw pillow Zarina liked to hug when she curled up on the couch and watched TV with him. While their nightly gettogethers were frequent, no one would call them dates. But he enjoyed the time they spent together, even if all they did was talk about football and why anyone would play a game where the men in the prison-stripe uniforms were throwing their hankies on the ground all the time—Zarina’s words, not his. It was fun and casual and made him feel like he was a normal guy. He was anything but normal, though. It was about time for him to accept that and move on with his so-called life, so Zarina could move on with hers. And he needed to do it sooner rather than later. He was still considering that when he heard footsteps outside his door. For a crazy half second, he thought it was Zarina. His heart beat faster at the possibility, but then his hybrid instincts took over, calculating the weight of the person from the heavy thud of their footfalls and their height by the interval in between strides. It was a tall man, wearing dress shoes. A moment later, he picked up Trevor’s scent. Tanner was off the couch and across the room before Trevor could even knock. As he opened the door, he was about to point out it wasn’t a good idea for people to see them together, but one glance at the coyote shifter’s face, and he changed his mind. The guy looked like shit. He took in the suit Trevor wore, his nose wrinkling at the whiff of fresh blood coupled with the subtle flowery scent

of a woman’s perfume. “Nice fashion statement, dude,” Tanner remarked as Trevor walked in. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wear a suit without a shirt. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to catch on.” Trevor didn’t answer but simply flopped down on the couch. “I’d offer you something alcoholic, because you sure as hell look like you could use it,” Tanner said, closing the door. “But Zarina thinks it’s a bad idea to mix hybrid and booze. So the best I can do is a Mountain Dew.” “That’s fine,” Trevor said. Tanner grabbed two bottles of soda from the fridge, then handed one to Trevor before taking a seat on the other couch. When he’d first come to the DCO, he and Trevor rarely crossed paths, mostly because Trevor and his counterespionage team had always been on missions. Since John’s death, they’d both committed themselves to helping their friends who’d been implicated in his murder as well as finding the real killer, so they’d become friends in addition to allies. “Shitty night?” Tanner asked. He knew Trevor had gone to Baltimore to look for a person who might have info on the bomb that killed John but not much more than that. “You could say that.” Trevor opened the bottle of soda and downed half of it in a few big gulps. “I had the guy who made the bomb right in my hands. He came out and admitted Thorn paid him to make the device and deliver it to

the visitor’s center at the main gate of the DCO on the morning of the explosion.” “Which confirms our worst fears, that someone who works with us picked up that device and put it in John’s office.” Trevor shrugged. “Yeah. Unfortunately, a bunch of muscle-headed bouncers from the club came out and thought we were robbing the guy. The idiots got triggerhappy and killed him before he got a chance to tell anyone.” He shoved a hand through his dark hair and let out a growl of frustration. “I had Thorn’s balls right in my fucking hand, then it all went to shit.” “Is that how you got shot?” Tanner asked. Trevor nodded. “Yeah. I got distracted at the wrong time, and one of the d-bags creased my ribs. It’s nothing.” Distracted wasn’t a word Tanner would usually associate with his friend. Trevor was the kind of man who seemed to be able to focus on the details in the middle of the biggest shit storm. “Alina okay?” Tanner prompted. “Oh yeah, she’s wonderful. Peachy, in fact.” Tanner wasn’t the most perceptive guy on the planet when it came to picking up nonverbal cues, but even he figured out something was going on here. When he asked, Trevor was silent for so long, Tanner thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, his friend took a deep breath and took the plunge. “Alina isn’t turning out to be the person I thought she was.”

Tanner wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “I thought she was supposed to spy on me and tell them everything I’m doing,” Trevor continued. “Now you don’t think so?” Trevor let out a short laugh. “Oh, she’s almost certainly reporting back to Dick. Two days after we talked to Seth Larson, Dick sent someone to rough him up and find out what he knew. The only way Dick could have known about Larson is if Alina told him.” Tanner frowned. “Okay, so you’ve confirmed that she’s a spy for Dick.” Trevor shook his head. “Yeah, but you should have seen the look on her face when she realized I’d figured out what she’d done. She seemed genuinely contrite, like she knew she’d made a mistake.” Tanner lifted a brow. “I know what you’re thinking.” Trevor held up his hands. “That she’s playing me. I admit, the thought has crossed my mind more than a few times. But I do this spy-versus-spy thing for a living. I usually know when people are playing me. I’m telling you, something else is going on with Alina. Sometimes it seems like she’s actually on our side.” Now Tanner was even more confused. Either Alina was working with Dick, or she was one of the good guys. “Speak English, would you? What the hell are you saying?” Trevor told him what happened at the club, saying he and Alina had fought well together, and how she’d brought him back to her place to fix him up afterward. “If she was simply doing Dick’s dirty work, she didn’t

need to do any of that. Hell, she could have let those guys kill me,” Trevor added. “My gut’s telling me that while she might have told Dick about Larson, she had no idea what he was going to do with that information.” “That doesn’t mean she’s on our side,” Tanner pointed out. Trevor turned back to the TV, his breath coming out in a rush. Tanner was tempted to call it a sigh, but since real men didn’t sigh, it had to be something else. “We kissed,” he said quietly. Tanner tried not to overreact—and failed. “You what?” Trevor shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. Well…it wasn’t supposed to be. Alina and I needed a cover to get us into a club in Baltimore, and Skye and Evan set us up as a couple of newlyweds. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were put in a position where we had to act like a man and woman who’d just been married. So we kissed.” “And?” “And all it was going to be was a quick peck. Just part of our cover. But while it might have started out tame, it sure as hell didn’t finish that way. I’ve never had a kiss like that in my life.” Tanner took a long drink of Mountain Dew as he considered that. “It might have been that way for you, but what about Alina? Maybe it really was part of your cover for her.” “I thought that at first, too,” Trevor admitted. “But when Alina was tending to my gunshot wound later at her place, she kept running her hands over my chest and stomach long

after she’d cleaned off all the blood. She was definitely into me.” “How do you know?” Tanner asked. He hated to be obvious, but he got the feeling Trevor wasn’t seeing the situation clearly. “Because I could smell her arousal.” “Oh,” Trevor said. Okay, that was definitely TMI. There was a reason men didn’t share this kind of stuff with their friends. “Up until that point, I’d assumed Alina was very good at deception and that she was playing the role Dick had given her. But you can’t fake arousal, no matter how good you are.” Tanner couldn’t argue with that. “What are you going do?” “I have no frigging idea.” Trevor dropped his back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling as if the answer was written there. Or maybe he was simply looking for divine inspiration. “I want to ignore what my head is saying, just go with my instincts, and trust her. I want to believe this thing that seems to be going on between us is real. But at the end of the day, how do I toss aside all my doubt and trust her completely, knowing that if I do, and she’s dirty, it won’t be me paying the price? It will be our friends.” Tanner would have answered, but he had no idea what to say. He sucked at relationships almost as much as he did at giving personal advice. Fortunately, Trevor’s phone rang, relieving him of the responsibility of solving his friend’s dilemma.

Trevor pulled out his phone and looked at it warily, as if he was worried it might be Alina calling to ask if they were talking about her. After a moment, he thumbed the button and put it to his ear. “No, Evan. It didn’t go well tonight,” Trevor said in a deadpan voice. “Is there another reason you called?” Evan must have said something interesting, because Trevor told him to hold on. “I’m putting you on speaker so Tanner can hear.” He pressed the button. “Go ahead.” “Vivian just called,” Evan said. Vivian was the receptionist at the main office in DC. She acted as their eyes and ears at that facility, even though there wasn’t much going on there lately. “Thorn booked one of the classified conference rooms at the DCO office in DC. He didn’t give her an exact time but just told her to reserve the room for the next two days.” Trevor frowned. “Why would he bother using one of our classified conference rooms? He must have at least half a dozen of them at Chadwick-Thorn.” “I was wondering the same thing,” Evan said. “The only reason I can think of for why he might want to use one of our rooms instead of his is if what he’s discussing is so secret he can’t risk anyone at Chadwick-Thorn overhearing it. Their secure facilities are good, but ours are better.” “Anything that classified is something we’re going to want to hear,” Trevor said. “That’s what I was thinking,” Evan said. “Which is why I called you.” “Is there any way we can get someone into that meeting?”

Tanner asked. He’d only been to the DC office once. While it was hidden in the basement of the EPA building on Pennsylvania Avenue, it was fancy as hell, not to mention secure. “Not a chance,” Evan said. “Thorn will almost certainly have his own security people there to keep people out. If we’re going to hear what they’re saying in there, it’s going to have to be covert.” Trevor chuckled. “Fortunately, we work for a covert organization that’s damn good at snooping on people. See if you can find someone you still trust in IT, and ask if they have a listening device we can get into the conference room.” “Getting a wire that can do the job won’t be the problem —it’s getting it into the room,” Evan said. “If Thorn’s people are any good, they’ll sweep the room before the meeting, so we can’t put the listening device in there ahead of time. It will have to go in at the last minute, and that might be tough.” “Leave that to me,” Trevor told him. “You get the bug and make sure we find out exactly when Thorn is holding the meeting.” “I’m on it.” “You think this has something to do with this big move we’ve all been waiting for Thorn to make?” Tanner asked after Evan hung up. “I hope so,” Trevor said. “Because if not, I’m not sure how else we’re going to get the son of a bitch. We’ve dug into every lead and gone down every rabbit hole looking for

something to put the man away. I don’t know what else to do.” Tanner wanted to put Thorn away as much as Trevor did, but it was looking less likely with every passing day. Even this classified meeting was a long shot. For all they knew, Thorn merely wanted a fancy place to hold one of his weapons program briefings for the DOD. He and Trevor sat there in silence for a while, watching the fourth quarter of a game that even the fans in the stadium had given up on and walked out. “So what are you going to do about Alina?” Tanner asked as the ref finally—and mercifully—announced the game was over. Trevor shrugged. “Pick her up for work in the morning, then take it from there.” Tanner considered suggesting Trevor try talking to Alina instead but thought better of it. Trevor was as crappy at talking to women as he was, so it would be a train wreck. Better to pray and hope for the best.

Chapter 9 Molly ran straight in to say good morning to Katelyn the moment Kathy opened the door. “So how’d everything go last night after I left?” Kathy asked Alina. “Judging by how tired you look, I’m guessing it went very well. Tell me everything, and don’t even try to spare me the details. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” Alina was tempted to make something up so Kathy wouldn’t be disappointed, but she didn’t. Not only did she hate lying to her friend, but she was simply too tired to come up with anything. “If you want to know how the night went, that’s easy. It sucked.” Kathy looked surprised for a moment, then hustled her into her apartment and closed the door. Alina had been there enough times to know what the place looked like by heart. The layout was the same as her apartment, with most of the furniture nearly identical too. The only major difference was the pile of small cardboard boxes stacked up against the living room wall. Most likely socks waiting to be sent out

in this morning’s deliveries. “What happened?” Kathy asked. Alina was in the middle of giving her friend the synopsized version of last night’s events when her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket. It was probably Trevor telling her he wasn’t coming to pick her up and that she needed to take a cab down to Quantico. It wasn’t Trevor. It was Dick, no doubt wanting to know why the hell she hadn’t returned any of his calls. In addition to calling her several times the previous night, he’d already called twice this morning. She sighed and let this call go to voice mail, too, then shoved her phone back in her pocket. Kathy must have seen the look of displeasure on Alina’s face, because she led her over to the couch and plunked her down, then sat beside her. “What’s wrong? You haven’t had this new job long enough to be hating the thought of going to work in the morning already.” “It’s not that,” Alina said. Picking up last night’s story where she’d left off, Alina explained about Seth Larson and how she’d told her boss about the meeting. Kathy frowned. “I don’t see the problem here. Dick is your boss, right? Why wouldn’t you tell him about it?” Alina sighed. “This is going to sound crazy, but I’m getting the feeling my boss isn’t exactly one of the good guys. There’s a lot going on that I don’t understand, but my instincts are telling me that Dick is in league with the

person who had the previous director murdered. From everything I’ve seen over the past few days, Trevor is trying to get the evidence to prove it.” Kathy grimaced. “And you just told the bad guy exactly what Trevor is up to.” Alina nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t realize what I was doing, and by the time I did, it was too late to do anything about it. Then last night, Larson called and said Dick sent some guys to pay him a visit. They roughed Larson up and scared the hell out of his autistic kid. I felt like crap knowing it was my fault, but then felt ten times worse when I saw the look in Trevor’s eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he knows it was me. I feel like I betrayed him.” Hell, she did betray him. Kathy considered that. “Well, the first thing you need to do is stop talking to Dick. Second, talk to Trevor, and tell him exactly how you feel. Tell him that Dick duped you into spying on him and that you had no intention of betraying him.” Alina almost laughed at the simplicity of Kathy’s plan. Leave it up to her friend to uncomplicate the situation and say what needed to be said. Considering the way the tension left her body the moment she heard her friend’s idea, Kathy was probably right on. “You’re suggesting I blow off my boss’s calls? Ignore the man who signs my paycheck?” “I remember you telling me that you always felt there was something off about Wade,” Kathy said. “That your instincts had screamed at you for months there was something

sideways about him. You were furious you’d let your head overrule your instincts and promised me you’d never do anything like that again.” Alina sighed. She vaguely remembered that late-night conversation with Kathy and the promise she’d made. Right now, those instincts were telling her Trevor wasn’t the bad guy in this equation. If anyone was—besides Dick and Thorn—it was her. She nodded. “You’re right.” “Of course I’m right,” Kathy said. “If talking to Dick feels wrong, it is. Tell the guy the battery on your cell phone died or that you dropped it in the garbage disposal. It worked for that quarterback. It’ll work for you.” “It didn’t really work for him, Kathy,” Alina pointed out. “He was found guilty, got suspended, and lost millions of dollars in pay.” “Well, yeah, I guess. You don’t have millions of dollars, and it’s not like your boss can be as evil as the football commissioner, so you should be fine.” Kathy shrugged. “Besides, you lie much better than that cute quarterback. His face is too honest to pull off a good one.” Alina laughed at the image of Dick losing his mind when she told him she missed his calls because her phone fell in the garbage disposal. But her amusement disappeared as another concern took center stage. She’d lain awake a long time last night trying to understand why she’d been so strongly affected by a simple kiss. She’d known since her first day on the job that she and Trevor had some kind of connection. And that connection

was getting stronger than she’d ever experienced with any other partner or team member she’d ever had. Who the heck was she kidding? The thoughts she’d been having about Trevor last night weren’t things she’d ever thought about any teammate she’d ever had. Those had been I-want-to-get-you-naked-and-wrestle-with-you-on-the-floor kinds of thoughts. “Earth to Alina.” Alina jerked out of her musings to see Kathy waving her hand in front of her face. “Sorry.” “You’ve been sitting there grinning like an idiot for the past two minutes,” Kathy said. “What’s so funny?” On the floor, Molly and Katelyn seemed interested in knowing the answer to that, too. They’d stopped playing with each other and were eyeing her curiously. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “Don’t give me that,” Kathy said. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when you’re hiding something.” Alina picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her pantsuit. “It’s possible I’m starting to feel things for Trevor that I shouldn’t necessarily feel for my work partner.” Kathy gaped at her. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you’re falling for him romantically? I mean, not that I blame you. Trevor is definitely hot. I haven’t seen abs like that since the Chippendales tour came to town. And he’s attractive as sin. Like that guy on that show.” “What show?” Alina asked, knowing she shouldn’t. Her friend was always saying someone looked like an actor on TV or in the movies, but she could never remember

the actor’s name, so it usually devolved into a big game of twenty questions. “You know, the one on the Syfy channel.” Alina sighed. “Kathy, the Syfy channel has a lot of shows.” Her friend waved her hand. “I don’t know the name of it. I don’t think it’s on anymore, but I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. It was the show about the people who go through the gate in time. They’re surrounded by water, and there are spaceships and soul-sucking aliens with white dreadlocks. He was the good looking one with the quirky smile.” Alina had absolutely no idea what show Kathy was referring to, much less what guy. Her work schedule over the years hadn’t left her a lot of time to watch TV. But she let it go. The name of the show would pop into her friend’s head at some point. “Okay, regardless of which movie or TV star you think Trevor looks like, I’m not falling for him romantically.” Kathy looked doubtful. “You sure?” Alina was about to declare that of course she was sure, but then she realized that would be something of a lie. “Okay, maybe I am…a little. But I didn’t intend for things to get out of hand like they did last night. It just happened.” Kathy’s eyes widened. “What got out of hand? Are you talking about the way you were groping him when I walked into your apartment last night?” “I was not groping him,” Alina insisted. “I was rendering first aid.” Kathy snorted. “I’m pretty sure what I stumbled in on last

night isn’t the kind of first aid they teach down at the local YMCA.” “Whatever,” Alina said. She refused to engage in that line of conversation. “Besides, that’s not what I’m talking about. While we were undercover, we kissed. It was supposed to be a little smooch as part of our cover, but it ended up being hot, and I got kind of turned on. Things got even more sexually charged when we got back to my apartment. When you walked in on us last night, I was damn close to jumping him.” Kathy blinked, clearly too stunned to speak. “Wow,” she finally said. “Not that I don’t envy the heck out of you, but doesn’t what happened last night complicate things? If they weren’t complicated enough already, I mean. I don’t suppose you have a clue if he felt the same way about the kiss?” Alina shook her head. Kathy thought a moment. “Remember before when I suggested you tell Trevor how you feel? Maybe you should leave out the part about wanting to have sex with him. At least for right now.” Alina couldn’t disagree with that logic. She would have asked if Kathy had any other suggestions, but then she heard a knock from across the hall. “That’s Trevor. I have to go.” “Good luck,” Kathy said as Alina headed for the door. “Thanks.” After last night, she had the feeling she was going to need it.

*** Alina wanted to ask how Trevor’s gunshot wound was doing, but the silence in the SUV was so deafening she was almost afraid to break it. Not that his wound was the only thing she wanted to talk to him about, but damn, if she couldn’t talk about something that simple, how was she going to confess to betraying him? Telling Trevor the truth had sounded so easy when Kathy suggested it earlier, but sitting beside him in the Suburban on I-95 south, it felt like the words were stuck in her throat. She had to say something, or she was going to go insane. “Trevor, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said quietly. “What’s that?” he asked, not looking at her. “I owe you an explanation.” He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “You don’t owe me anything.” She winced. Clearly, he wasn’t going to make this easy. Why should he? This was her screwup, not his. “I told Dick about Larson,” she admitted in a rush. “I never dreamed he would go and harass the guy—or Cody. I’m sorry I did it, and I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.” Alina expected questions, a furious rant, or at least an angry look. Instead, Trevor gave her nothing. He stared straight ahead as traffic jammed the highway. She took a breath and decided to dive into the deep end of the pool. “Dick recruited me specifically to keep an eye on you, but I didn’t know that when I agreed to take the job. It

was only afterward, during our first meeting in his office— when Thorn was there—that Dick told me you betrayed the DCO and had either helped murder John or were protecting those who had. I didn’t really know until later that I’d been set up and lied to.” Trevor finally looked, his face guarded, almost thoughtful. He gazed at her for so long, she started to get uncomfortable, both at the intensity in his eyes as well as the lack of attention he was paying to the road. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she finally asked. He turned his attention back to the highway. “What would you like me to say?” “I don’t know, but say something,” she said in exasperation. “Tell me you believe me, call me a liar, say you couldn’t care less about my excuses. At least acknowledge you heard me.” When Trevor still didn’t say anything, Alina thought her whole confession had been a waste of time and breath. But then suddenly, he jerked the steering wheel to the right, crossing two lanes of traffic and steering the SUV onto the shoulder of the road. Behind them, cars squawked and blew their horns, but her partner ignored them as he slammed on the brakes and turned to face her. “Why didn’t you walk away from the job the minute Dick told you what he expected you to do? Why work with a partner you thought was a traitor?” Alina blinked. Of all the things she expected he could have asked her, why she’d taken the job wasn’t one of them. But it was a question. And she had wanted him to say

something. This was a start at least. “I wasn’t lying when I told you it was time for me to leave the CIA,” she said. “Going back wasn’t an option. And in reality, there was some stuff in my past at the CIA that makes going after a traitor a very tempting offer. Dick obviously knew that when he recruited me.” “What the hell does that mean?” Trevor demanded. “What stuff in your past?” She took a deep breath. It was time to tell him about Wade and why she’d left the Agency, but before she could open her mouth to spill the secrets she’d never planned to tell anyone, Trevor’s cell phone rang. He cursed and dug it out of his pocket. She expected him to ignore the call, since what they were discussing was kind of important, but instead, he thumbed the green button. “Maxwell.” He listened for a moment, then frowned. “Slow down, Zarina. I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Whatever the woman had to say, it must have been bad, because Trevor tensed. “What’s wrong?” Alina asked. Trevor eyed her for a moment, his gaze calculating, like he was trying to decide if he could trust her. Alina fully expected him to tell her it was none of her business, so she was surprised when he hit the speaker button on the phone. “Zarina, can you repeat that? I just put you on speaker so Alina can hear.” There was a slight hesitation, then a woman’s accented voice came on. “Sage has escaped and is running loose

through the wooded area outside the complex. I’m doing the best I can to keep it quiet while Tanner and Jaxson try to get her back. If Dick figures out she’s missing, that will be all the excuse he needs to send someone out to kill her.” Alina might not have known Sage, or Zarina and Tanner for that matter, but that didn’t stop her from getting a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. The concern on Trevor’s face told her she was right. “Which way is Sage heading, and how much of a head start does she have?” Trevor asked. “Tanner said she’s heading northeast, with at least a fifteen-minute head start.” Cursing again, Trevor threw the Suburban into gear and floored it, making the other drivers honk and swerve as he merged onto the interstate. “We’ll try to get ahead of her,” he said as he weaved in and out of traffic. “Hopefully we can keep her from reaching any heavily populated areas outside the Quantico boundary.” “Hurry,” Zarina said. “Sage hasn’t interacted with more than a handful of people the whole time she’s been here. I’m not sure how she’ll deal with the outside world.” “No kidding,” Trevor muttered. “I’m going to call Tanner. We’ll let you know something as soon as we can. Do anything necessary to keep Dick from finding out about this.” “Who is Sage?” Alina asked after he hung up. “And why do you think Dick will have her killed?” Trevor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

“Dammit, Trevor!” she snapped. “I admit it. I screwed up, and I betrayed you, and I’m sorry about that. But right now, I need to know what’s going on if I’m going to help you find that girl. Unless you intend to kick me out and leave me stranded on the side of the road.” He glanced at her. “Alina, this isn’t some damn game. This isn’t about you and me and how much—or how little—we might trust each other. This is about a terrified woman who needs help. If you tell Dick about any of this, he’ll have her executed, plain and simple.” Hearing Trevor say he didn’t trust her hurt more than she wanted to admit. “I’m not going to tell him anything.” Trevor was silent for a moment, but then he nodded. “Okay. I’m trusting you, not just with Sage’s life, but with Jaxson’s, Tanner’s, and Zarina’s as well. If Dick finds out what they’ve been doing, getting fired will be the least of their problems.” Alina grabbed the roll bar handle as Trevor took the next exit at warp speed and turned on state road 234 along the northeast side of the Prince William Forest. The wooded area served as a buffer along the northern edge of the Quantico training facility. Trevor must have been trying to get north of Sage and stop her before she got out of the forest. Trevor handed his phone to her. “Hit the third number on speed dial.” She looked down at the phone and realized there wasn’t a single name listed in the contacts list. Just a collection of ten speed-dial numbers. It was clearly a burner phone.

Containing her curiosity for the moment, she poked the third button, then put the phone on speaker. When the call connected, all she heard was a garbled mix of what sounded like the pounding of feet. “Trevor?” a male voice shouted over the din. “Yeah, it’s me, Tanner,” her partner said. “Alina and I are on highway 234 heading toward the northeast side of the boundary. Where are you and Jaxson?” “I’m tracking Sage on foot through the forest, maybe ten minutes behind her. Jaxson is in an SUV trying to keep up with me as best he can. Hold on, and I’ll pull him into the call.” A few moments later, the roar of an engine came over the line, interspersed with a lot of expletives. “I’m a little busy trying to read a map and drive at the same time, guys,” Jaxson said. “It’s not really the best time to chat.” “Then just listen,” Trevor told him. “Tanner, do you think you can catch up with Sage before she reaches the perimeter fence?” “Not a chance,” Tanner said. “Sage is really frigging fast. Probably as fast as I am, which is kind of painful to admit. She’s making a beeline for the northeast boundary and will probably come out somewhere around Independent Hill. She’s barely five minutes from the fence.” Trevor swore and floored the gas, driving even faster. “Alina and I will try to get in front of her and keep her from getting too far into town. Hopefully we can keep anyone from seeing her.”

“Approach her slowly so you don’t freak her out,” Tanner warned. “She’s just scared.” “It’s not her I’m worried about. It’s the civilians she runs into. I don’t want someone calling the cops,” Trevor said. “You have any idea where she’s ultimately going or what she’s trying to do?” “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s trying to find Derek,” Tanner replied. Trevor muttered a curse. “I’ll call you guys when we reach the outskirts of Independence Hill.” He nodded, and Alina hung up. “I already know Jaxson,” she said. “Who are Zarina and Tanner?” “Good friends who are willing to risk their lives to help someone.” She was hoping he’d say a little bit more than that, but okay. “If you’re all friends, why is Sage running from them? More importantly, what’s the big deal if someone sees her?” Trevor passed several cars on the four-lane road before answering. “Did Dick tell you about hybrids?” Alina shook her head. “Not really. He mentioned them, but from the way he said it, I assumed it was another word for shifter. He also used the acronym EVA once, but he never said what it meant.” Trevor grunted. “Figures. Dick likes to paint all of us with the same brush. EVA means extremely valuable asset. It’s the bureaucratic term the DCO came up with to describe shifters. As you can imagine, it’s not a term we think much of.”

She could understand that. “Okay. So what’s a hybrid, then?” “Hybrids are man-made shifters. It’s an attempt by some evil people to create shifters in a laboratory by giving normal, everyday people a chemical cocktail to twist their DNA around and force their bodies to exhibit the same traits shifters possess. It’s a violent, dangerous, and incredibly painful process that can have a ton of unintended side effects, especially when it comes to a person’s self-control.” Alina already knew she wasn’t going to like where this was going. It sounded like something out of a horror movie. “Sage was kidnapped from her home in Canada and given who knows how many different hybrid drugs,” Trevor continued. “On top of that, she was shuffled all over the world from one clandestine lab to the next, where she was experimented on. Sage isn’t the first person to fall victim to those psychopaths, but she’s by far the most unstable one we’ve been able to rescue. She’s hanging on to her sanity by a thread. We hate doing it, but we have to keep her locked up in a small apartment-slash-cell on the complex.” “The most unstable one you’ve been able to rescue?” Alina repeated, getting a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Do you mean there have been others that you couldn’t rescue?” Trevor nodded. “Unfortunately, there have been a lot. Many never survive the hybrid serum to begin with. Most of those who do live become so violent and insane we’ve had no choice but to kill them.” Alina shook her head. “Who would try to play God like that?”

Trevor didn’t say anything, the same impenetrable wall shutting her out. “Answer me,” she said. “Who did this?” He gave her a quick glance before focusing again on the road they were speeding down. “It was Thorn,” he growled. “That asshole has been trying to build a hybrid army for years, and Sage is just one of the many casualties that have occurred along the way.”

Chapter 10 Jaxson and Tanner were waiting for them outside a tiny Catholic church located on the outskirts of Independent Hill. “She’s inside,” Jaxson said the moment Trevor and Alina got out of the SUV. Trevor muttered a curse. The hope that they’d catch up with Sage before she reached the town had evaporated when Tanner had called a few minutes ago to say she’d already jumped the fence and that he’d tracked her to the church. “Please tell me she’s alone,” Trevor said. Secretly, he didn’t think they could possibly get that lucky, but hey, this was a church, so maybe his prayers would be answered. Tanner shook his head. “Afraid not. The good news is that there’s only one other person in there with her. I assume it’s the priest.” Trevor glanced at Jaxson. “Did you bring them?” “Yeah.” Jaxson opened the back of his SUV and took a hard plastic

case from the backseat. Placing it on the hood, he lifted the lid to reveal four dart guns. It was amazing how much these things looked like the paintball guns he and Alina had used the other day. All things being equal, Trevor would much rather have been back in the shoot house getting shot with green-dye rounds. “We’re going to tranquilize her?” Alina asked, looking back and forth between Trevor and the other guys. “None of us want to, but we might not have a choice,” Trevor told her. He appreciated the fact that even though she’d never met Sage, Alina was clearly uneasy about the idea of shooting her with a tranquilizer dart. It made him feel a little better about bringing Alina on this rescue mission. When she’d first confessed to spying for Dick, he’d just about lost it. But after she’d admitted Dick had made it seem like he was a traitor and a murderer, Trevor had cooled off a bit. He’d known Dick for a long time, so he knew what kind of manipulative SOB the man could be. That said, he still wasn’t ready to trust Alina completely. They had a way to go before they could get there. But his gut told him they were on the right track. That was good enough for now. Trevor pushed those thoughts aside for the moment, needing to focus on Sage and getting her back to the complex before Dick or anyone else discovered she was gone. “No one wants to shoot her,” Tanner was telling Alina. “But we can’t take the chance Sage might lose control in there and hurt the priest or one of us. Trust me when I tell

you this. Hurting someone is the last thing Sage wants to do. It would tear her apart.” “We’ll try and talk her down first,” Trevor promised as he slid the dart gun inside his belt at his lower back. “We only pull the weapons as a last resort, understood?” Giving Tanner and Jaxson a nod, he and Alina headed around to the back of the church while Tanner and Jaxson took the front. They passed a tiny house attached to the rear of the church that was most likely the priest’s residence, then made their way over to the back door of the church. Trevor hoped like hell she hadn’t gone into a rage and killed the poor man already. “A hybrid’s eyes will turn bright red when they’re on the verge of losing it,” Trevor told Alina. “When they get like that, it’s nearly impossible to get through to them. That’s when they’re really dangerous. If you see her eyes turn red, get the hell out of the way, okay?” Alina looked like she wanted to argue, but then shook her head. “Fine. But how about we make sure it doesn’t come to that?” “That’s the plan,” he murmured as he pushed open the door. “But everyone knows what they say about plans.” Giving Alina a nod, Trevor led the way down the hall, his footsteps silent on the marble floor. Thankfully, he didn’t pick up the scent of blood. Maybe it meant Sage was fully in control. When they reached the end of the hallway, he heard soft voices coming from the main part of the church. Trevor

couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like someone praying. He stepped into the main part of the church, Alina right behind him. Sage was sitting in the front pew beside an older priest dressed in traditional black garments. Their hands were clasped in front of them as they recited a prayer together. Sage’s head immediately came up, her eyes glowing as red as two Christmas tree lights. Trevor’s heart sank. If that wasn’t bad enough, her claws and fangs were out, too. Crap, she was in full-on hybrid mode. Why the hell wasn’t the old priest freaking out? Unless he was blind, he had to have figured out that there was something seriously different about Sage. But the guy simply sat there, softly praying as if he were the only person in the church. Sage shot to her feet, a growl slipping from her throat. Beside her, the priest’s prayers stumbled to a halt. He looked up, his eyes filling with alarm when he saw Trevor and Alina. He slowly shook his head, like he was trying to get them to back off. Noise from the front of the church startled Sage, and she whipped her head around to look over her shoulder at Tanner and Jaxson as they slipped through the big double doors and fanned out to either side. Trevor held up his hand, motioning for them to stay where they were. Taking a deep breath, he stepped a little closer to Sage, hoping she’d turn her attention back to him. As he moved, he caught the priest’s eye, trying to get him to slip away from Sage, but the old guy seemed intent on remaining

where he was. It was like he thought Sage was the one in danger. “It’s okay, Sage,” Trevor said gently. “We’re here to help. No one’s going to hurt you. We’re all friends here.” Sage didn’t seem to believe that. Eyes blazing, she took three quick strides in his direction, her long, sharp fangs bared in a snarl. Hybrids might not have had much in the way of control, but they definitely had some serious fangs on them. If Sage ever truly lost it and sunk those teeth into someone, it would be all over. He hadn’t seen Sage much since he and the others had brought her back from Tajikistan, but she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. From the wetness on her cheeks, it was obvious she’d been crying, too. Trevor’s heart went out to her, it really did, but that didn’t stop him from slowly reaching behind his back for the tranquilizer gun. With her hybrid strength and reflexes, Sage was already close enough to attack. Even if he darted her in midair, the sedative wouldn’t take effect for fifteen to thirty seconds. A hybrid could do a lot of damage in that amount of time. He could probably survive an attack like that, but if Sage turned on Alina, his partner probably wouldn’t be so lucky. The thought of Alina getting hurt bothered him a hell of a lot more than he ever would have expected. “Alina, start backing away slowly,” he whispered. “Things are about to go all kinds of bad.” He’d already figured out a while ago that his partner was stubborn, so he wasn’t surprised when she hesitated. But he

didn’t expect her to completely ignore him, much less step in front of him to put herself between him and Sage. Trevor’s gut reaction was to grab her and drag her behind him, but he knew if he did, it would only freak Sage out even more. “Alina, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Sage, my name is Alina,” his partner said calmly. “You don’t know me, but I promise that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. We need to get you back home. It’s not safe for you to be out here like this.” Sage growled, flashing her fangs again. But she made no move to pounce. In fact, he could have sworn the red glow in her eyes dimmed a little. Maybe Sage responded better to women than men? Or maybe she simply responded to Alina. He had to admit she seemed to have a way about her that put people at ease. Alina must have taken Sage’s hesitation as a good sign, because she stepped closer and held out her hand, palm up. “Will you let me take you home, Sage?” The gesture seemed to shock Sage as much as it did Trevor, and she took a step back. “It’s not my home,” she growled in a tone that was filled with anguish. “I don’t want to go back there.” Trevor held his breath as Alina moved closer to Sage again. This was frigging insane. “Where would you like to go instead, Sage?” Alina asked. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?” “I want to go wherever Derek is,” she wailed. “Can you take me to him?”

The look of heart-wrenching despair that crossed her face as she said Derek’s name nearly ripped Trevor’s guts out. He’d expected her to say she wanted to go back to her family in Canada, but Tanner had been right. Her instinctive need to be with the man who’d saved her in Tajikistan was stronger than the urge to go home. Alina gave Trevor a questioning look, no doubt wondering who the hell Derek was and how they could get him here. Unfortunately, that was going to be tough. The man was still active duty Special Forces. He was lucky to see the States more than a month or so out of the year. “He’s a soldier,” Trevor said. “He’s probably…” He’d been about to say Derek was probably deployed, but then he caught sight of Tanner waving his hands and shaking his head. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t talk about that. “Derek’s currently…hard to reach,” he said instead. Tears welled up in Sage’s eyes. “Can’t I just talk to him on the phone? Please? If I could hear his voice, that would be enough.” Alina looked at Trevor again. All he could do was shrug. How the hell could he get hold of a deployed Special Forces soldier when he wasn’t even sure where in the world the man was? “I promise that when we get back to the complex, I’m going to find Derek and get him on the phone,” Alina told Sage firmly. “I don’t care what I have to do. You’re going to talk to him today. I swear it.” Sage regarded Alina silently, as if trying to decide if she should believe her. Trevor tightened his grip on the

tranquilizer gun behind his back. But as he watched, the last of the red glow slowly faded from Sage’s eyes, her claws and fangs retracting. Then she threw herself into Alina’s arms, tears coming hard and fast. Alina wrapped her arms around the girl, squeezing her tightly and promising she’d keep Sage safe and get her back with Derek as fast as possible. The heartache pouring out of the poor girl in great racking sobs was difficult for Trevor to watch. Damn, he hated seeing a woman cry. It drove a spike right through his frigging heart. Sage was like a wounded animal who was lost and confused and in pain, not knowing why it was all happening to her. He couldn’t imagine how the girl even held it together. One arm still around Sage, Alina guided her over to the first row of pews and sat down with her, rocking the girl back and forth and making soothing sounds in her ear as she caressed her dark hair. Trevor had to admit that trusting Alina enough to bring her with him had been one of his better ideas. Releasing his grip on the dart gun, Trevor gestured for the priest to follow him out of the church. Tanner joined them while Jaxson stayed inside to keep an eye on Alina and Sage. Considering the man had seen everything, Trevor was going to have to do some serious damage control. “I’ve never seen a shifter lose control like that,” the old man said once they were outside. “Is she ill?” Trevor gaped. Beside him, Tanner looked just as surprised. “You know about shifters?” Trevor asked cautiously. The priest nodded. “Yes. The church has been aware of the

existence of these very special people for a long time. Our histories say they were poorly treated at first, but once the clergy finally realized they’re no more evil than any of God’s other creatures, the church took on the role of protecting them and their identities.” Trevor exchanged looks with Tanner. Okay, he hadn’t expected that. “So you’re not going to tell anyone about this?” The priest smiled. “The girl came into my church seeking solace and peace. She was so scared that it was difficult to understand what she was saying, but I did glean from her words that churches have always represented safety and sanctuary to her. The girl’s secret is safe with me…and the church.” He regarded Trevor thoughtfully for a moment. “You never answered my question about whether or not the girl is ill.” “No, she’s not ill,” Trevor said honestly. He couldn’t exactly lie to a priest. “Sage wasn’t born a shifter. Someone gave her a drug to turn her into one against her will. The out-of-control behavior you saw is a result of those drugs. We’re trying to help her, but she’s having a hard time of it.” The priest’s mouth tightened. “Besides helping her, I trust you’re doing whatever is necessary to make sure the person who did this horrible thing isn’t allowed to do it again?” Trevor nodded. “We’re trying very hard.” The priest looked like he would have said more, but just then, Alina and Jaxson came out with Sage. The girl was practically glued to Alina’s side, and while she’d stopped crying, she still seemed emotionally and physically drained.

“We can take her back to the complex in my vehicle,” Jaxson said. “I should be able to get us through the gate without anyone paying too much attention.” Alina hesitated, looking in Trevor’s direction. He was about to tell Jaxson that he’d take them in his vehicle and let the other man run interference at the gate, but then his frigging phone rang. He pulled it out to see who it was, intending on letting it go to voice mail. Then he saw who it was. Holding up his finger to tell Alina to wait, he moved to the side to take the call. “What’s up, Evan? This isn’t exactly the best time to talk. I’m kind of busy.” “Well, you’re about to get even busier,” Evan said. “Vivian just called. Thorn is heading to the DC office right now for that classified briefing. If you want to hear what he says, you need to be there in an hour.” Shit. Trevor glanced at his watch, trying to calculate how long it would take him to get into the middle of DC at this time in the morning. With traffic, it was going to be close. “Did you talk to IT and figure out a way to get a set of ears into the conference room?” “Yeah, I have a way to do it. I just don’t know how we’re going to make it work,” Evan said. “You never explained how the hell we’re going to get the bug in the room with them.” That was because he hadn’t given it one second of thought. “Like I said, let me worry about that. I’m leaving now, but it’s going to be tight. Any chance you can rig up a

way to slow things down if I’m late?” There was a long sigh on the other end of the line. “Dammit, Trevor. I’m an analyst, not a field agent. I sit around a soft, cushy cubicle all day and play with a computer. I don’t know how to rig anything.” “You’ll figure it out,” Trevor said, trying to be as encouraging as he could. “Keep it simple, and you’ll be fine. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” He hung up and gave Tanner a nod, knowing the hybrid had heard the entire phone conversation. “What was that about?” Alina asked. While he’d been on the phone, she’d gotten Sage into the back of Jaxson’s SUV and somehow convinced her to stay put. Through the open back window, Trevor could see the girl looking anxiously at Alina. “Did Dick go after Seth and Cody again?” Alina prompted when he didn’t answer. He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I just need to be someplace.” “Do you want me to come with you?” Trevor’s first instinct was to say yes, but the word got stuck in his throat as his head spoke up and urged caution. Letting her help with Sage was one thing; bringing her to a meeting where Thorn might finally reveal something damaging was a completely different world. He hated himself for doing it, but that didn’t keep him from shaking his head. “No. I’d rather you help Jaxson get Sage back to the complex and settled. You and she seem to have a

connection, and what I’m doing isn’t a big deal. I’ll take Tanner with me and catch up with you later.” Disappointment flashed across Alina’s face for a brief second before she nodded and climbed in the backseat of Jaxson’s vehicle with Sage. Trevor had no doubt his partner knew he’d fed her a line of crap, and he could tell it bothered the hell out of her. It bothered the hell out of him, too, especially considering what she’d just done for Sage. But until he knew for sure that she wasn’t playing him, he couldn’t take the risk of telling her what he was doing. As Jaxson pulled the Suburban out of the church parking lot and drove away, Alina threw Trevor an angry look. It occurred to him then that he might have burned down the already shaky bridge that had started forming between them.

*** Vivian met Trevor and Tanner in the lobby of the DC office. With its big reception desk and black-and-white photos of well-known landmarks like the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building on the walls, it wasn’t all that remarkable. It certainly didn’t scream covert organization. “Thank God you’re here,” she said softly. “Thorn and the people he’s meeting with have been here for a while, and poor Evan is about to blow a gasket.” Trevor could believe it. While Evan might be on the verge of passing out, Vivian seemed cool as a cucumber as she led them down a deserted hallway. Considering the leggy blond had never done anything other than receptionist work for the

DCO, that was a little surprising. Then again, maybe she was a ninja receptionist? He could see John hiring someone like that to work the desk of the organization’s clandestine headquarters. “Who’s in there with him?” Tanner asked. “I don’t recognize them,” she said over her shoulder. “No one from the Committee or the DCO, that’s for sure.” “Not even Dick?” Trevor asked. The DCO’s new director was rarely far from Thorn when anything important was going down. She shook her head. “No. They’re all scientist types.” “How do you know that?” Tanner asked. “Trust me,” Vivian said. “I know a nerd herd when I see one.” Trevor frowned. If Vivian was right about them being scientists, this meeting could very well be about another hybrid project—or whatever Thorn had decided was the next step in hybrid evolution. “Man, am I glad to see you guys,” Evan said when they walked into the office where the analyst was waiting for them. “I was able to delay the start of the meeting for a few minutes by popping the circuit breakers, which made all the computers in the conference room have to reboot, but I couldn’t get away with that more than once.” “Sorry about that. Traffic was a bitch, as usual,” Trevor said. “Did you get the wire I asked for?” Evan nodded and held out a small plastic and metal device that looked kind of like a miniature flash drive, except the USB adapter on the end of it didn’t look quite right.

“Who’d you get it from?” Trevor asked. “Karl in IT tech support.” Evan handed it to him. “He said all you have to do is press the base in and hold it for a few seconds to turn it on. Then just get it somewhere in the room, and it will do the rest. It’ll pick up anyone talking as well as capture the video feed going into the overhead projector. And before you ask, I didn’t tell him what we needed it for, and he didn’t want to know.” “Which conference room are they in?” Trevor asked. Evan’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to be able to just walk in there.” “Why not?” Trevor shrugged. “I’ll act like I walked into the wrong room, drop the device under a table, then be out of there before they even realize I slipped a bug in the room.” Evan exchanged looks with Vivian. “It’s not that,” he said. “Thorn put two guards on the door, and one of them is Frasier.” Trevor cursed. His plan would be infinitely more difficult with someone guarding the door, but Douglas Frasier’s presence made it damn near impossible. Frasier flat-out hated his guts. Then again, it seemed like Frasier hated everyone’s guts, but especially shifters’. In addition to being Thorn’s head of security, Frasier also ran certain special projects for the former senator. Which was a nice way of saying the man killed people his boss wanted dead. Trevor didn’t know a lot about the guy, but he knew Frasier had worked for the DCO years ago and that he’d been paired up with the first shifter the organization

had ever discovered—Adam. Trevor wasn’t sure what happened between the two of them, but considering what Adam had said about his partner shooting him in the back, Trevor had a pretty good idea. Whatever it was, it forced Adam to go off the grid while Frasier had landed a cushy job working for Thorn. The man was never going to let him get within ten feet of the conference room his boss was in. Trevor glanced at Tanner. The hybrid had even less chance of getting past Frasier than he did. That left only one option. He stared at Evan, trying to come up with something to say to convince the analyst he had it in him to bluff his way past Frasier and the other guard and figure out how to slip the device into the room. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Evan asked suspiciously. Then his eyes widened as it dawned on him. “No way! I can’t go in there. Frasier would know I’m lying. He’d shoot me.” Shit. Evan looked like he was about to start hyperventilating at the mere thought of going in the conference room. Trevor opened his mouth to point out it was highly unlikely Frasier would kill him, but Vivian cut him off. “I’ll do it.” Well, damn. He hadn’t even considered suggesting she do it. Which was rather sexist, he realized. “You sure about this?” “Will this help catch the people who killed John and Olivia?” she asked. Trevor nodded.

“Then I’ll do it. Olivia was my friend long before I started working here. She even got me the job interview. As for John, he was the best boss I’ve ever worked for and an even better person. If putting a bug in that room will get me a little revenge, I’m in. I want those bastards to pay for what they’ve done.” “How are you going to get it in there?” Trevor asked as he handed the device to her. “Carefully” was all she said, then she left the room. Evan let out a breath. “What do we do if they catch her?” “We go rescue her,” Trevor said. Evan seemed a little nervous at that idea but nodded. “I’ll get the computer set up. That way, we’ll know what’s happening in there.” Taking a laptop out of his backpack, Evan placed it on the table, then slipped something that looked like some kind of wireless mouse adapter into one of the computer’s USB ports and began poking keys. “You want to pick up the pace a little?” Trevor said. “At this rate, Frasier could knock Vivian out and drag her out to the trunk of his car before you get any sound on that thing.” “Hold on.” Evan’s fingers flew over the keys. “I’m praying she remembered to push the adapter to turn it on, or this will all be a waste of time.” A few moments later, muffled noise came out of the computer’s speakers along with the sound of something heavy thudding together. Evan threw Trevor a nervous look. “What the hell was that?”

Trevor held up his hand for silence, trying to figure out what the hell they were listening to. “I thought everyone would like some coffee and Danish,” Vivian said over the speaker. “Nothing like a little caffeine and sugar to get you through a morning meeting.” “Thank you, Vivian.” Thorn’s deceptively sweet voice made Trevor’s teeth ache. “Of course, Mr. Thorn. If you need anything else, just let me know.” “Damn, she’s smooth,” Tanner said as Vivian left the room. “John should have put her in the field.” Trevor chuckled. “No kidding. Maybe he intended to. John was always ten steps ahead of everyone else when it came to knowing who’d be a good field agent.” “He was good when it came to seeing other people’s futures,” Evan said softly. “I wish he had spent a little more time worrying about his own. Then maybe he would’ve foreseen somebody planting that bomb.” The mood in the small office immediately changed as the humor that had been there a moment ago disappeared. They stared at the blank screen of the laptop, listening to the men in the conference room drink their coffee and talk about whether they preferred cheese or apple Danish. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Alina with you,” Evan said. “Zarina told me she helped get Sage back, so I figured she was a newly accepted member of our little rebel alliance.” “She stayed behind to take care of Sage,” Trevor said, the lie sliding wet and slimy off his tongue. Great, now he was

lying to Evan like he’d lied to Alina. At this rate, he was going to end up no better than Thorn and his a-hole friends. “But everything is good with her right?” Evan probed. “She’s on our side, isn’t she?”, Trevor didn’t know how to answer that. His head was still advising him to proceed with caution, while his instincts shouted at him to trust her. That disconnect had him tied up in knots, not sure what to do. Why the hell did this have to be so difficult? He shrugged. “I’m leaning that way, but in truth, I’m not sure.” Evan frowned in confusion, while Tanner gave him a look that said he thought Trevor was full of crap. He knew the feeling. He was confused, too, and pretty sure he was full of shit. Thankfully, the door opened, and Vivian stuck her head in, saving him from fielding any more questions about Alina. “We good?” Vivian asked. Trevor motioned at the laptop. “We have audio, but it remains to be seen if we’re going to grab any video from the projector. Regardless, you did good.” Before she could say anything, the screen on Evan’s laptop flickered to life. “We’ve got video,” the analyst announced excitedly. Vivian nodded. “I need to go out and man the desk in case anyone else walks in late for the meeting. Hope you get what you need.” “Me, too,” Trevor said. “Thanks again.” As she closed the door behind her, an image of some kind

of chart appeared on the laptop screen. The timeline along the bottom stretched back at least four years, while the rest of the slide was filled with a bewildering array of stars, numbers, and various horizontal lines. It didn’t look like some kind of diabolical scheme concocted by Thorn to take over the world—or whatever the hell he was up to. In fact, it looked like something involving a weapons development schedule. Trevor cursed. This was probably going to end up being a huge waste of time. He’d screwed the partnership he’d been building with Alina for nothing. A man’s voice came through the speaker. Even with the guy explaining the chart, Trevor was still lost. All the scientific terms might as well have been Greek as far as he was concerned. “The program has grown in leaps and bounds since the minor setback we experienced at the end of May when our test subject was unable to sustain a full transition,” another man said. The picture on the screen changed to a man lying twisted and motionless on an exam table. Trevor did a double take. Shit, that was Aaron Moore. He’d been an agent at the DCO right up until the moment he’d volunteered to take the hybrid serum Thorn’s doctors whipped up in their test tubes and died in horrible, screaming pain as a result. Now the chart made a whole hell of a lot more sense. It outlined how long they’d been working on the hybrid serum.

“We still don’t know why Agent Moore responded so poorly to the serum,” the man continued. “While it was a reduced dosage, Agent Harmon displayed absolutely zero side effects when given the same treatment. In fact, it appears the serum failed completely in Harmon’s case. I admit, having a test subject die from such a small tweak in the formulation continues to confound our failure review team.” Trevor ground his jaw at the total disregard for human life apparent in the man’s voice as he talked about Moore’s death. Former Special Forces lieutenant turned DCO agent Jayson Harmon should have died, too. What Thorn’s doctors didn’t know was that Zarina had injected Jayson with her own experimental drug minutes before they’d administered the hybrid serum. Only her drug hadn’t been meant to turn him into a snarling beast with a mouth full of fangs. It’d been meant to counteract the serum. Unfortunately, Zarina didn’t have a chance to inject the same drug into Moore, since no one had a clue the guy was going to do something as stupid as volunteer for the protocol before anyone had even figured out if it worked on Jayson. “As a consequence of the failure with Agent Moore, the team made the decision to go back and restart the project with raw hybrid material gathered by operatives in Tajikistan,” the man explained. Trevor bit back a growl. That confirmed something he’d been worried about ever since the mission to Tajikistan back in March. The entire purpose of it had been to wipe out the

last remnants of the hybrid research program, but two members of the raid—Moore and another dirty agent—had obviously taken samples from the facility before destroying the place. “Starting from square one worked to our advantage, because we now have a successful formulation,” the man said. “You’re telling me the serum finally works?” Thorn said. “You’ve created completely functional—and stable— hybrids that possess the same abilities as the naturally existing shifters?” “That’s exactly what we’ve done,” the doctor said, pride evident in his smug voice. “In fact, it’s possible we’ve made a few improvements over the original, as I think this video clip from our research facility on the farm will demonstrate.” Trevor glanced at Tanner and Evan to see them standing there with the same shocked expressions on their faces. He was damn stunned himself. “He’s exaggerating, right?” Tanner asked. “There’s no way he could create hybrids that good.” Trevor could understand Tanner’s reluctance to believe what he was hearing. Every hybrid variant created up to this point, in Washington State, Costa Rica, Tajikistan, or Maine, had all been stricken with some level of aggression, rage, or control issues. Unfortunately, that included Tanner and Sage. If Thorn’s people had overcome that, this was a complete game changer. It meant Thorn no longer had to pretend to be interested in keeping natural shifters around.

He could wipe out every one of them on the planet if he wanted to. On the computer screen, a video replaced the slide presentation. At first, all they could see was what appeared to be an obstacle course, but as the doctor continued to narrate, four large men dressed in military camo appeared on the screen. As the camera followed their progress through the course, it was obvious they weren’t normal humans—or normal shifters. They snarled as they moved, exposing more razor-sharp teeth longer than any shifter possessed. They looked like frigging sharks. They ran fast, too, making jumps and leaps that few but the most agile shifter could pull off. And when they extended their perfectly matching long, curved claws so they could scale a vertical wooden wall thirty feet high, Trevor knew Thorn’s doctors hadn’t exaggerated. They’d made hybrids that somehow combined the strength and power of a bear shifter like Declan with the agility and claws of a feline shifter like Ivy, all in a fully controlled package. Trevor waited for one of the men to say where this testing was being done, but other than a couple more references to a “farm,” no one said anything useful. “And the test subjects are all taken from among my most elite paramilitary units?” Thorn asked. “They’re loyal to me?” “Yes, Mr. Thorn,” the doctor said quickly. “The minute we had the new formula worked out, we started our recruitment effort with volunteers who’d spent at least ten

years working on your various black-ops teams. Additionally, our psychology assessment process placed the highest emphasis on those who demonstrated loyalty specifically to you. These men represent exactly what you’re looking for. They’re highly trained, fast, strong, dangerous, fearless, and completely loyal to one person and one person only—you.” That seemed to please the hell out of Thorn. He continued to pepper the doctors with questions regarding the strengths and weaknesses of the hybrids and when there’d be enough of them to proceed to phase two of the project. The doctor seemed to think these new super soldiers had no weaknesses and suggested that phase two could be ready as soon as Thorn gave the word. “You have it,” Thorn said. “Accelerate the timeline, and proceed the moment you think the team is ready.” “What the hell does phase two mean?” Evan whispered. “No idea,” Trevor said. “But I’m guessing this is the move we’ve all been waiting for.” After the meeting was over, Evan transferred a copy of the briefing onto a flash drive and handed it to Trevor. “Get back to the complex, and start scouring the video for anything we might have missed—where the farm is, who these doctors are, who these new hybrids are, and what the hell phase two of Thorn’s plan is,” Trevor told him. “Everything and anything you can find.” Evan nodded. “Will do.” “What are you going to do?” Tanner asked after the analyst left.

“Get this information to Adam,” Trevor said. Tanner nodded. “You want me to come with you?” “No. We can’t risk someone seeing us together. Besides, I have something more important I need you to do.” “What’s that?” “Take another run at Dick’s office,” Trevor said. “Now that we know what we’re looking for, maybe you can find something that will tell us where the hell Thorn is cranking out these hybrids and what he plans on doing with them.” Tanner groaned. “Why don’t I go talk to Adam while you sneak into Dick’s office? I’m a former Army Ranger. I’m no good at all this snooping and spy work.” Trevor shook his head. “No way. To get into his office, I’d have to sneak past that guard dog secretary of his. She hates my guts. You, on the other hand, she seems to like. Which confuses the hell out of me. I always figured she didn’t like me because I’m a shifter, but that prejudice doesn’t seem to apply to you.” “She probably doesn’t like you because you’re always such a smart-ass around her,” Tanner muttered. “Besides, it’s Saturday. Phyllis won’t even be there.” “Phyllis is always there,” Trevor said. “The woman probably has a hideaway bed under her desk.” Tanner frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been snooping around Dick’s home and office for weeks with nothing to show for it. Hell, considering the fact he wasn’t invited to this meeting, it’s possible he may not even know what Thorn is doing.” Trevor found that hard to believe. Dick and Thorn had

been working hand-in-hand since the inception of the DCO. The idea that he wouldn’t know about something this big seemed impossible. Then again, if there was one person on the planet better at manipulation than Dick, it was Thorn. “Dick knows something,” Trevor insisted. “Root through his office looking for reference to a farm. If Evan can come up with the names of those doctors we listened to or a facial recognition ID on those hybrids, look for them, too. Based on what we just heard, Thorn’s plan is going down in less than a week. If we’re going to stop him, we need to have intel now.” Tanner let out a breath. “I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything. I suck when it comes to searching through computer files.” “Then figure out another way to get the information we need,” Trevor said. “Before it’s too late to do anything with it.”

Chapter 11 Jaxson had gotten Alina and Sage back on the complex without being noticed, then Zarina distracted the guards while Alina slipped the girl back into her room. After that, all three of them had moved heaven and earth to get in contact with Derek’s Special Forces team down at Fort Campbell. Luckily, the sergeant and his team had just come back from a field exercise, so he’d been able to talk to Sage on the phone. Sitting on the edge of the bed while Sage lay on her side, her pillow tucked under her head, a wistful smile on her face, Alina had to admit the effect Derek had on her was nothing short of amazing. Sage was as relaxed as if she’d taken a Xanax. Alina had never seen anything like it. “How did you and Derek meet?” Alina asked softly. “He saved my life in Tajikistan,” Sage said. “I didn’t know that’s where I was, of course. Actually, I was barely aware of anything. I only knew I was filled with terrible pain and rage every minute of the day. I’d been like that for so long, I wanted it all to be over with. When the building where I was

kept prisoner caught on fire, I thought my prayers were going to be answered and that I would finally get some peace. Then Derek was there, risking his life to save mine, even though I didn’t want him to. I even tried to kill him, but he wouldn’t give up. He got me out and brought me here.” Alina wanted to ask what had happened to her over there but didn’t think that’d be a good idea. Sage had been experimented on and turned into a monster. That wasn’t exactly something a person would want to talk about. “How many times has he come to visit you since then?” she asked instead, figuring that was a safer subject. “Twice.” Sage rolled halfway onto her back, her smile disappearing as she gazed up at Alina. “I know it’s hard for him, because he’s always working and rarely home, but he calls as much as he can. That’s almost as nice as him being here.” Alina’s lips curved. “You like Derek a lot, don’t you?” Sage nodded, a smile lighting up her face again. “He has the most amazing, gentle voice, and when he looks at me, I can almost believe he doesn’t see a monster. Sometimes, it seems like Derek is the only person who can save me. I ran off because I wanted to be with him.” Alina was no expert on relationships, but investing so much of yourself in a man you’ve only met a couple of times didn’t seem healthy to her. Then again, Alina wasn’t a hybrid, so she had no idea what the girl was going through. Who the hell was she to judge? “Do you know where Fort Campbell is?” she asked.

Sage shook her head with a laugh. “No, not really. I just knew I had to find him.” She rolled onto her side again, and they both fell silent. A little while later, Sage fell asleep, a smile still curving her lips. Alina couldn’t help but hate the people who had hurt the fragile, vulnerable girl. Knowing Thorn was behind the hybrids, and that Dick would exterminate Sage if it proved convenient, pissed her off so badly, she wanted to hunt both men down and shoot them the same way she’d wanted to hunt Wade down and shoot him after he’d murdered her teammates. Sage reminded her a lot of Jodi. She had the same tough outer persona wrapped around a gentle inner soul, and Alina promised herself she’d never let anyone hurt her the way Jodi had been hurt. That would almost certainly mean going up against two of the most powerful and dangerous men she’d ever met and aligning herself completely with Trevor and his friends. Unfortunately, Trevor still didn’t seem ready to trust her. She couldn’t blame him for keeping her at arm’s length. He was playing a game of intrigue and espionage at the very highest level, personally taking on Thorn and Dick in their own backyard. One screwup on his part and not only would he be dead, but so would a lot of other people. As far as Trevor was concerned, Alina was an outsider. He’d been wary of her from the start, and her actions since then had only confirmed his worst fears. He’d thought she was a spy, and she’d behaved like one.

Even so, it’d still hurt like hell when he’d told her he’d rather do whatever he was off doing with Tanner instead of her. She’d known he was full of crap when he’d tried to convince her it was nothing. She’d seen the look on his face when he’d gotten that phone call. Something serious was going down, but he’d decided he’d rather face the threat with Tanner than his own partner. Damn, that stung like a bitch. Alina sighed. She didn’t know how, but she was going to figure out a way to make Trevor trust her. Not only because he was her partner, but because he was quickly becoming something more to her.

*** Trevor pulled into the parking lot of the motel in Falls Church, Virginia, two hours later, then sat in his SUV for another thirty minutes to make sure he hadn’t been followed. Getting out of the vehicle, he walked across the parking lot and knocked on the door of room 105. It swung open by itself. That was when he noticed the piece of tape over the lock. Trevor pushed it open the rest of the way, then pulled the tape off and locked it behind him. Adam was sitting at the small, round table, waiting for him. Trevor walked over and set the thumb drive on the table without a word. Adam picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his signature duster. “What’s on it?” he asked. “A video of Thorn’s new hybrids,” Trevor said. “They’re

completely in control of themselves and demonstrating abilities that no shifter has ever possessed. Thorn already has a plan for how he intends to use them. I have no idea what it entails, but I know he’s moving on it soon.” Trevor expected Adam to ask for more details, but instead, he simply nodded. “There’s something I need you to do,” Adam said. “It might not seem important given what you just told me, but trust me when I say it is.” Trevor got a distinctly uncomfortable sensation in his stomach. Adam had asked him to do very few things directly, other than staying in the DCO and keeping an eye on Thorn and Dick. “What is it?” he asked hesitantly. “I need you to track down some people who have popped up on the radar. My sources say they’re planning to hit the ammunition supply point on Aberdeen Proving Ground tonight.” Trevor frowned. Adam had his own operatives he could send out to do basic reconnaissance work like this. Why ask him to do it? “We finally get at least some clue about the fucked-up game Thorn is playing, and you want me to chase ghosts around a military base in Maryland when we’re this close to nailing the son of a bitch who murdered John?” Trevor demanded. Adam didn’t blink. Then again, the man rarely showed any outward sign of emotion. That cold, detached persona convinced Trevor that Adam might very well share his DNA

with a reptile. “John is the reason I want you to do it,” Adam said. Trevor bit back a growl. “That makes no damn sense whatsoever.” “John never got so focused on Thorn that he forgot the threat posed by every other asshole out there,” Adam said. “If these people are stealing military-grade weapons, John would be the first one to say they have to be stopped, even if it means putting your vengeance against Thorn on hold.” “If you’re so worried about someone stealing weapons from the army, why don’t you just drop an anonymous tip to the base military police? Let the MPs stop the damn heist.” “Because it’s possible some senior army personnel on the base are involved,” Adam said without missing a beat. “If we alert the army, we’ll tip our hand that we’re onto them. We need to stop these people now.” The other shifter stood, reminding Trevor how tall he was, which was one hell of a trick, considering Trevor was six four. “If I have to, I’ll send some of my own people, but they’re nowhere near your level of training, and they know next to nothing about the army or military munitions.” Adam’s eyes glinted. “They’ll do the best they can, but chances are they’re going to get killed. I guess you’re okay with that, though, because you have better things to do, right?” Trevor cursed. He didn’t miss the passive-aggressive heat in Adam’s voice or the fact that the other shifter was calling him out. In the end, Trevor would never let someone else walk into a dangerous situation in his place. And Adam

knew it. “Okay, I’ll check it out,” Trevor said. “You do realize I probably won’t be able to do more than a little recon, maybe identify these people if I’m lucky.” Adam nodded. “Identifying them and figuring out what they’re up to will be more information than we currently have. Since you spoke in the singular, I assume that means you won’t be taking Alina with you?” “I thought you didn’t trust her,” Trevor pointed out. Adam’s face was as unreadable as ever. “I never said I didn’t trust her. I simply told you there was good reason to protect yourself until you knew if she had your back or not. I’m asking you to sneak onto a military base and do something that might involve you getting shot at by a lot of people. It would be good to have someone you trust backing you up.” Trevor didn’t say anything. Adam reached inside his coat and pulled out a large envelope. “Everything you need to get onto the base is in here.” With that, Adam walked out of the hotel room, closing the door behind him. Trevor opened the envelope, dumping two military ID cards, travel orders putting them on temporary assignment to Aberdeen, and a collection of pictures and maps of the base’s ammunition supply point. He picked up the green ID card with Alina’s picture on it. It was a good photo, way better than you typically saw on military identification. Then again, Alina was very photogenic. Where the hell had Adam gotten this picture

anyway? It definitely didn’t look like a driver’s license photo. More like something you’d see on a Facebook page. Trevor stared at the photo, wondering what to do about his partner. Did he trust her enough to take her with him on a mission like this?

For more Paige Tyler check out the X-Ops series

Her Dark Half On sale September 2017

Acknowledgments I hope you had as much fun reading Remy and Triana’s story as I had writing it! I thought it would be fun to get the SWAT guys out of Dallas for a while, and with his background, New Orleans seemed like the perfect place for Remy and his pack mates to go for a howling good time! This whole series wouldn’t be possible without some very incredible people. In addition to another big thank-you to my hubby for all his help with the action scenes and military and tactical jargon, thanks to my agent, Bob Mecoy, for believing in me and encouraging me and being there when I need to talk; my editor and go-to-person at Sourcebooks, Cat Clyne (who loves this series as much as I do and is always a phone call, text, or email away whenever I need something); and all the other amazing people at Sourcebooks, including my fantastic publicist Stephany, and their crazy-talented art department. The covers they make for me are seriously drool-worthy! Because I could never leave out my readers, a huge thankyou to everyone who has read my books and Snoopy Danced

right along with me with every new release. That includes the fantastic people on my amazing Street Team, as well my assistant, Janet. You rock! I also want to give a big thank-you to the men, women, and working dogs who protect and serve in police departments everywhere, as well as their families. And a very special shout-out to our favorite restaurant, P.F. Chang’s, where hubby and I bat story lines back and forth and come up with all of our best ideas, as well as a thank-you to our fantastic waiter, Andrew, who takes our order to the kitchen the moment we walk in the door! Hope you enjoy the seventh book in the SWAT series coming soon from Sourcebooks, and look forward to reading the rest of the series as much as I look forward to sharing it with you. If you love a man in uniform as much as I do, make sure you check out X-Ops, my other action-packed paranormal/romantic-suspense series from Sourcebooks. Happy Reading!

About the Author Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of sexy, romantic suspense and paranormal romance. She and her very own military hero (also known as her husband) live on the beautiful Florida coast with their adorable fur baby (also known as their dog). Paige graduated with a degree in education but decided to pursue her passion and write books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt heroines who fall in love with them. Visit www.paigetylertheauthor.com. She’s also on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, tsu, Wattpad, Google+, and Pinterest.

HER DARK HALF New York Times bestselling author Paige Tyler delivers pulse-pounding paranormal romantic suspense in the X-Ops series

Coyote shifter and cover operator Trevor Maxwell has a lot on his plate. His former director was killed, and it’s up to him to track down the killer. The job is difficult enough, but after his boss pairs him with Alina Bosch, a distractingly beautiful CIA operative, it’s damn near impossible. When the daughter of a DCO VIP is kidnapped, all hell breaks loose. Suddenly Trevor and Alina are thrown into a much more dangerous operation, and they’ll have to trust each other to make it out alive. “As fresh and fun as the first.” —Booklist for Her Rogue Alpha For more Paige Tyler, visit: www.sourcebooks.com

WOLF UNLEASHED New York Times bestselling author Paige Tyler delivers action-packed paranormal romantic suspense in the SWAT series

Wolf shifter Alex Trevino has fallen hard for veterinarian Lacey Barton. Getting her to agree to a date is a lot of work— and winning her heart proves even harder. Lacey can’t deny her crazy attraction to Alex, but she has no intention of letting herself fall for him. In her experience, men don’t stick around. Then Lacey’s sister is kidnapped, and it’s up to Alex to crack the case—and prove to Lacey that he isn’t going anywhere. “A SWAT team of hunky werewolves? I think I have an emergency NOW!” —Kerrelyn Sparks, New York Times bestselling author, for In the Company of Wolves For more Paige Tyler, visit:

www.sourcebooks.com

Thank you for reading! At Sourcebooks we are always working on something new and exciting, and we don’t want you to miss out. So sign up now to receive exclusive offers, bonus content, and always be the first to get the scoop on what’s new! SIGN UP NOW!