Grant stormed up to the guard, his face flushed with anger. Clearly the morning hadn’t been going well for the head of security.
“What’s going on here?” he snarled.
The guard lowered his weapon, but his gaze remained trained on the stranger who’d thankfully stopped honking his horn. Sinclair breathed a sigh of relief.
There were times when super hearing sucked.
“This man is insisting he’s an employee,” the guard explained. “But he refuses to show his I.D.”
The head of security sent an impatient glance toward the intruder and abruptly stiffened in shock.
“Viker,” the man breathed.
“Grant.”
The stranger slammed his car door shut and strolled forward. He looked like he’d just crawled out of the gutter with his hair matted and his face unshaven. Even more surprising, there was a feverish flush to his cheeks, and a glitter in his eyes that made Sinclair question whether or not he was entirely sane.
So how was he connected to the SAU?
Reaching the fence, the man flashed a smile at the rigid head of security.
“Good to see you.”
With a small shake of his head, Grant turned to flick a hand in the guard’s direction.
“I’ll deal with this.”
The guard nodded, turning to head toward the small building where the guards could keep watch with the security cameras. At the same time, Sinclair silently stepped into the shadows of the building, giving himself a perfect view of the men without drawing attention to himself.
“Have you lost your mind, Viker?” Grant snapped, stepping toward the fence. “You were warned that if you showed your face in public you would be signing your death warrant.”
Sinclair arched a brow. Viker? The name wasn’t familiar, but the two obviously knew one another. And they hadn’t parted as friends.
“I need to see Markham,” the intruder insisted.
“He’s not here.”
Viker scowled in frustration. “Shit.”
Grant planted his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest.
“Consider yourself lucky. He has standing orders to have you shot on sight. If the guard had recognized you, you’d already be dead. And if Markham had been here…” An ugly smile stretched Grant’s lips. “He would have pulled the trigger himself.”
The intruder licked his lips, glancing over his shoulder at his car before returning his attention to Grant.
“Then he’d be a fool,” he warned. “I have something he wants.”
Sinclair grimaced. He half expected the creepy dude to rub his hands together and cackle like a madman.
Grant, on the other hand, simply looked annoyed. “Another supposed animal mauling you found posted on the Internet?”
“No, this time I have the real thing.”
Opening the back door, he bent down so he could reach inside, nearly disappearing from sight before shuffling backward. Sinclair prowled forward, a bad feeling clenching his stomach.
Even before Viker was dragging the unconscious female from the back of the vehicle, Sinclair had caught the musk of a wolf shifter. Then, as the man dumped the female onto the dirt road, Sinclair’s agitation became outright horror.
He recognized that particular shifter scent. It was the female who’d been sniffing around the park last night. The one that Rios had told him Tucker was not only intending to claim, but was also helping to track down the bastard responsible for killing her son.
Shit, shit, shit.
Where was Tucker?
Grant made a choked sound, his ruddy face paling at the sight of an unconscious woman with blood trickling from her forehead being dumped at his back gate.
“What have you done?” he rasped, his gaze moving to the unmistakable collar around her neck.
“She broke into my house and tried to attack me.”
Muttering under his breath, Grant moved forward to pull open the gate. Then, yanking his handgun from his holster, he moved to stand next to the female, gingerly poking her with the toe of his boot. When she didn’t move, he leaned down to shove up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing the brand that was nearly covered by the intricate tattoo on her forearm.
He gave a shake of his head. “A wolf? How did she get out of the compound? And what the hell would she be doing in your house?”
Viker hunched his shoulders. “She’s the mother of the kid that died.”
Grant took a hasty step backward. “Are you fucking kidding me? How did she find you?”
“The animals are smarter than you give them credit for,” the man muttered. “I’ve tried to warn you.”
Grant gave a shake of his head and stepped back to study Viker with open suspicion.
“If she truly attacked you, then why are you still alive?”
Viker’s gaze flicked down to the unconscious female before returning to Grant. Sinclair didn’t need to see the sly little smile to recognize that the man was about to play his ace in the hole.
“Because first she was trying to convince me to admit that I’d been hired by the SAU to murder her son,” he said, deliberately pausing to give his next words extra weight. “It’s clearly a political ploy by the shifters to destroy the agency.”
Sinclair felt a flicker of admiration. Clever female. If Viker had truly been hired to kill an innocent child, then he would be priceless to the Unseen. If they could actually prove…
His distracted thoughts were sharply interrupted as Grant poked a finger in the center of Viker’s chest.
“Why did you bring her here?” he demanded. “She has to be destroyed.”
Sinclair tensed, ready to strike. Dammit. The last thing he wanted was to expose himself, not when they were so close. But he couldn’t stand there and watch them murder Tucker’s female.
“Wait.” Viker stepped between Grant and the unconscious woman. “I have a better idea.”
Sinclair remained poised to pounce if necessary.
Grant frowned with impatience. “What?”
“She wasn’t alone,” he admitted.
“There’s another shifter on the loose?” Grant rasped in disbelief.
“No. A human,” the man reassured him. “He probably helped her escape.”
Tucker. It had to be. Sinclair struggled to keep his face devoid of emotion. He didn’t think anyone had noticed him inching his way forward, but he hadn’t managed to infiltrate the enemy camp by being careless.
Grant looked at his companion in disbelief. “Why didn’t you bring him with you?”
Viker slowly smiled, that glitter even more pronounced. “He was…indisposed.”
Sinclair’s hands curled into fists. If the bastard had hurt Tucker, he was going kill him.
Straight up.
“Just answer the question, Viker,” Grant snapped.
“I had to shoot him.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
Sinclair’s low growl of fury was thankfully drowned out by Grant’s loud, inventive string of curses.
“You’re sure?” the head of security at last managed to regain enough of his composure to ask.
Indifferent to Grant’s seething anger, Viker smiled with smug satisfaction.
“I shot him in the heart, and he fell to the ground bleeding like a stuck pig,” he said. “What more proof do you need?”
Sinclair felt a sharp stab of relief. No one wanted to be shot. It hurt like a bitch. But a bullet was usually only lethal to the very young, or the very old. Even if Tucker had been hit in the heart.
There was a very good chance that he was swiftly healing.
Grant was far less pleased with his friend’s explanation.
“And you just left his body in your house that’s rented by the SAU?” he asked, his voice rising to a shrill pitch. “Are you a complete moron?”
Viker’s brows snapped together, a dangerous flush staining his unshaven cheeks.
“I happen to have a brilliant plan if you’ll just shut up a
nd listen.”
In the blink of an eye, the head of security had his gun pointed at the intruder.
Viker may be unstable, but Grant was a ruthless bully who enjoyed causing pain.
“Do you think I won’t shoot you?” he asked.
Sane enough to realize he’d crossed a dangerous line, Viker lifted in hands in a gesture of peace.
“Sorry. Please, hear me out.”
Grant slowly lowered his gun. “This had better be good.”
Viker folded his arms over his chest, once again looking smugly pleased with himself.
“Markham is always searching for a way to prove that the shifters are rabid animals who will devour us all if we don’t keep them penned in cages,” he said.
Grant sent a hurried glance around as if making sure there was no one loitering in the area. It was supposed to be a big secret that the SAU deliberately exaggerated—and sometimes outright lied—about the shifters and the danger they posed to civilization.
Reassured that no damage had been done, Grant returned his attention to Viker.
“So?”
“Take a couple of the dogs to my house and let them chew on the body,” he ridiculously proposed. “Then we can take some photos and post them on the Internet. It won’t be long until we have a full-fledged panic.”
Sinclair swallowed a choked sound of disbelief. The man was either stupid or delusional. Grant appeared to share his opinion as he gave an irritated shake of his head.
“The authorities won’t be fooled by a few dog bites on a dead body.”
Sinclair abruptly stepped forward, knowing he had to take command of the situation.
Eventually, Tweedledee and Tweedledum would end their squabbling. Once that happened, there was a very real possibility that Grant would insist on killing the female shifter.
Sinclair had to make sure that there was a reason to keep her alive.
“Then do your own autopsy before they can get their hands on the corpse,” he broke into the conversation, moving until he’d stepped through the gate to stand beside the female stretched across the road.
If worse came to worst, he was going to grab her and make a run for it.
Thankfully, both men were the type that preferred to be given orders they could carry out without having to use their brains.
They eagerly latched onto Sinclair’s proposition to salvage the situation before Markham returned and had them both thrown in a cell.
“He’s right,” Viker said. “Once it’s done, we can give out any results we want.”
Grant scowled, but he gave a slow nod of his head. “Fine.” He glanced at Sinclair. “Get the doctor.”
Sinclair leaned down. “I’ll take the female to the pens first.”
“No.” Grant reached out to grasp Sinclair’s arm and yanked him backward. “I’ll take her myself.”
Sinclair’s wolf snarled and snapped inside him, and he was forced to turn his head to keep the idiots from seeing the animal glowing in his eyes.
“Wait,” Viker snapped, moving to block Grant from the female.
Sinclair turned back in time to see the head of security tighten his hand on his gun. No doubt he was fighting the urge to shoot the bastard.
“What?”
“I’m not handing her over until we negotiate my price,” he warned.
“Name it,” Grant snapped.
“I want to be reinstated.”
“Impossible.”
Viker narrowed his pale eyes, the stench of his desperation tainting the air.
“That’s up to Markham,” he told Grant. “He’s the Director.”
“I know who the hell the Director is,” Grant snapped, “But I’m in charge of the guards.”
Unable to argue the point, Viker tilted his chin to a stubborn angle.
“Then give me a job behind a desk.”
Grant frowned as if confused by the man’s insistence. “You get a paycheck each month, not to mention the fact that we pay for your rent. Why work?”
“I’m trapped in hell. You try being stuck in that house day after day with nothing to do and no one to talk to.” Flecks of foam edged the corners of Viker’s mouth. “I want out. One way or another.”
Sinclair arched a brow. The warning was clear. Either Grant gave Viker what he wanted, or the man was going to tell his story to the authorities.
Shit. If only Sinclair could rescue the shifter and capture Viker…
“I’m sure a position can be arranged,” Grant ground out between clenched teeth. “Maybe overseas.”
“I was thinking Vegas.” Viker pressed his luck, making Sinclair wonder how he’d managed to live for so long.
He was, quite simply, the sort of man that needed to be gagged for his own safety.
Grant hesitated, then with obvious reluctance, gave a stiff nod of his head.
“I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”
Viker stepped back, spreading his arms wide. “Then she’s all yours.”
Sinclair parted his lips to once again suggest he take charge of the female, only to snap them shut when Grant gestured toward the guardhouse. Two uniformed soldiers came running.
Shit.
If he insisted that he be allowed to stay with the female, it would only put her at greater risk. For now, Grant seemed willing to leave her alive. He had to trust they could get her out before the head of security changed his mind.
And he had a crazy idea of how they were going to do that.
“You.” Turning to Sinclair, Grant nodded toward a Jeep that was parked next to the gate. “Get the doctor.”
Sinclair gave a nod and hurried to jump into the vehicle.
The first thing he had to do was track Tucker down.
A polar bear shifter on the hunt for his mate would be…catastrophic.
****
Tucker groaned as he slowly regained consciousness.
He felt sluggish, as if he’d spent the night drinking his way through a barrel of whiskey. It wouldn’t be the first time. But he thought he’d outgrown his occasional need to join his friends in a night of drunken mayhem.
Forcing his eyes open, his puzzlement only deepened.
What the hell? He was in a house. A human’s house.
Unnerved, he planted his hands on the nasty carpet and shoved himself into a seated position. It was only when he glanced down to see the blood staining his shirt that the memories came flooding back.
Nicole.
In one fluid movement, he was on his feet and racing through the house. Seconds later, he was back in the living room. She was gone. And worse, he could detect the faint scent of her blood.
Fury burned away the lingering lethargy that came with the intense amount of energy he’d used to heal his wound. Thankfully, however, it hadn’t completely destroyed his ability to use his brain.
Which was the only reason he managed to contain himself long enough to leave the house and drive to the outskirts of town before he shifted into his animal form.
There was nothing that attracted attention like a massive polar bear running through the streets of Broomfield.
Once shifted, Tucker loped his way through the wildlife refuge before heading north.
He had no way of knowing exactly where Ian Viker would take Nicole, but Tucker was betting that he would be headed to the SAU headquarters.
Otherwise…
No. He wasn’t going to let himself even consider the possibility that the bastard may have disappeared with his female. Not if he wanted to stay sane.
Intent on reaching the headquarters, he ignored the wolf that was suddenly running at his side. He didn’t have time to explain things to his Alpha.
Right now, nothing mattered but finding Nicole.
Sinclair bared his teeth in warning then nipped at Tucker’s haunch. Still, Tucker refused to slow. It wasn’t until Sinclair had actually rammed into his side to knock him into a shallow stream that he was forced to halt.
With a shimmer of power, Sinc
lair was shifting into his human form, glaring at Tucker, who was trying to shake the chilled water from his fur.
“Listen to me,” the Alpha commanded, his brows drawing together as Tucker widened his jaws and prepared to attack. “Christ. Do you want to save Nicole or not?”
Those were the only words that saved Sinclair from being sliced to bloody ribbons.
With agonizing pain, Tucker forced himself to shift back to human. It was too soon to make the transition easy, but if Sinclair had information about Nicole, he had to be able to communicate.
Naked and wet, Tucker shivered as he climbed back onto the road. Not that he gave a shit about the chill in the air.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Sinclair surveyed Tucker, his piercing gaze moving down to the tender bullet wound that was still visible. Then he answered.
“The SAU headquarters,” he said, swiftly moving to block the path as Tucker took a step forward. “Wait.”
Tucker bared his fangs. Dammit. He would destroy anything and anyone who tried to get between him and his female. Including his friend.
“Get out of my way,” he snarled.
Sinclair refused to budge. Typical Alpha.
“You’re going to get her killed if you go charging in there.”
Tucker growled in frustration.
He didn’t want to acknowledge that Sinclair might have a point. Not if it meant he couldn’t rampage his way through the building, killing the humans who’d stolen his future mate.
“What do you suggest?” he snapped, in no mood to be reasonable. “That I leave her there?”
Sinclair’s expression hardened, but he refrained from shoving his fist in Tucker’s face.
“Of course not. But I don’t intend to let you put yourself or your female in danger.”
With an effort, Tucker sucked in a deep breath. As much as his animal may want to create a bloodbath, he knew that it might very well endanger Nicole.
Clenching his hands at his side, he tried to clear his mind of his primitive fury.
“You’ve seen her?” he asked, his voice still edged with lethal anger.
Sinclair gave a slow dip of his head, no doubt preparing to physically try and stop Tucker if necessary.
“Yes.”
“Has she been hurt?”