Savage Betrayal: Savage, Book 2 (13 page)

Grace seemed financially stable, and from what he understood and had learned recently, she brought in a nice sum for those glass flowers she blew.

“Do we know if this guy is a shifter?” she asked.

“According to the notes Larson gave me, it looks like it. Wesley Parker. Twenty-nine, not married but has weekend custody of two children.”

“Hmm. Hope his kids have tetanus shots if they’re riding those bikes.”

Darrius laughed, falling into the usual ease they had together. When Grace decided to use it, she had a wicked sense of humor.

“I’m trying to figure out whether the guy is home—” he jerked his chin toward the house, “—because really, does that car even look drivable?”

“Maybe…with some jumper cables and duct tape.”

“Yup. Definitely spotting some silver tape on the front fender.”

“Oh jeez.” She laughed softly and then glanced his way. “Did you eat breakfast?”

His smile grew, knowing where this was going, and he met her gaze. She’d relaxed a bit, seemed more in her element and was back to the usual Grace he knew on assignment.

Often one of the agents would bring breakfast or snacks along when they knew they’d have an early morning or stakeout. He hadn’t known they’d get assigned to do surveillance, but he’d brought in breakfast anyway this morning.

“I had a protein shake before I left his morning.” He reached behind him and snagged a brown paper bag. “But I picked up some maple bars from Top Pot on the way in.”

Her eyes lit up even as her mouth compressed. “I thought I smelled something pretty awesome. But, donuts? Really? Isn’t that a little clichéd for what we do? Not to mention a total sugar rush.”

“Says the woman who denies making oatmeal raisin cookies.” He grabbed one of the bars and cocked an eyebrow. “And are you complaining? ’Cause don’t think I won’t eat the whole damn bag of these and not share.” To make his point, he licked the glaze off that had spilled down the side of one bar.

He hadn’t meant the move to be sexual, but the small hitch in her breathing didn’t go unnoticed. Nor the dilation of her eyes—which he suspected had nothing to do with donuts.

“Yes. I don’t doubt it.” Her words sounded choked as she snagged the bag from him. She lowered her gaze from his mouth and pulled out a donut.

Satisfaction slid through his blood and he made no attempt to hide the arrogant smile that curved his lips. She could deny it all she wanted, but she wasn’t immune to him by any means. Grace apparently hadn’t been able to erase last night from her mind any more than he had. Though if she had any idea of his smug thoughts right now, she’d likely slap the smile right off his face.

Darrius turned his attention back to the house, but there hadn’t been any movement since they’d arrived. Maybe the POI wasn’t home. Which seemed more like a possibility if he had a nine-to-five job. Though looking at the house, the POI didn’t exactly scream suburban dad who worked five days a week at a local bank.

Grace made a noise of satisfaction, then murmured, “This maple bar is good, no matter how damn bad it is for me. Thanks.”

“Anytime, sugar.” He finished off his donut and glanced her way. “Hey, how well did you get to know Thom Wilson?”

Darrius hadn’t realized he was going to even ask the question, but it had been rolling around in his head for days now. Maybe he’d finally asked because they were so at ease now, so relaxed and back to the norm.

But clearly Grace didn’t like going there mentally, because the tension was visible as her shoulders stiffened and her brows drew together.

“I knew him from the experiments. That was it.”

“Did you ever talk after? When you were both freed?”

She hesitated, and he could sense she was debating answering honestly. “Once.”

He didn’t doubt she was telling the truth. Why lie about that. But would she elaborate? “Did he contact you?”

She gave a slight nod—seemed to be focusing extra hard on their POI’s house as she ate her donut.

“He was depressed. Needed someone to talk to who understood what he was going through.”

Crap. The donut he’d just eaten revolted in his stomach. Her words didn’t bode well for ruling out suicide, and if Larson were to figure out she’d met with Thom…

“And I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I’ll never believe it was a suicide. Thom Wilson would never kill himself.” She paused and seemed to be struggling with her own demons. “You don’t know what we went through—how every day was just a struggle to
not
die. We were survivors.”

The last statement was almost inaudible, but he’d heard it and she was absolutely right. It was pretty much a damn miracle any of the volunteers had survived the experiments.

Seeming to lose her appetite, Grace chucked her half eaten donut back into the bag.

Seeing her now, here, so alive and determined was such a potent reminder at how close they’d been to losing her. His heart stuttered a bit just thinking about it, imaging the seat next to him empty, or permanently filled with another agent. It disturbed him on the deepest level to think about
what if
she hadn’t been rescued in time.

Even now he could almost feel the dead weight of her body as he’d cradled her in his arms. Begged her to hold on just awhile longer while the P.I.A. created an antidote to the drugs she and the others had been given.

“You’re supposed to be watching the house, not me.”

Her wary gaze met his, briefly, before she glanced back at their assignment.

Not even realizing he’d been staring so hard, Darrius shifted his attention back to the house. But he couldn’t stop the quiet words. “I thought we were going to lose you. You were sicker than any of the other ferals. You had one foot in death’s door.”

“Well, clearly I stepped back out.” It was obvious that she tried to sound detached, but there was a hint of pain behind the two words.

Maybe it was a shitty idea, but he wanted answers. He wanted her to trust him enough to confide in him.

“Do you remember anything from that week, Grace? I know the contract was iron tight, but maybe something happened that is grounds for prosecution. Maybe you remember something we could convict them on…”

Chapter Ten

Did she remember anything? Grace kept her gaze on the house but didn’t really see it. Instead her mind flashed through a half dozen memories, at least she assumed they were memories. They were detached and moved through her head kind of like those floaters you get in your eyes. And every now and then her mind locked on one, but it slipped away just as quickly.

“I wasn’t raped, if that’s what you’re asking. I was told an agency nurse did a full examination on me after the rescue—but even that’s hazy.”

Another memory flashed through her mind now. Briefly. Darrius holding her, his face above her and his dark gaze intense and full of worry. There were emotions tied to the image as well—desolation, and yet peace. A peace that came from knowing she’d die in the arms of a man she trusted?

Grace clenched her teeth and forced back the sting of tears that burned her eyes and made her throat tight.

She hated going back to that time in her head, hated that she was being forced to do so in therapy. And yet, somehow she didn’t resent talking to Darrius as much as she did the therapist at the P.I.A. There was some relief in opening up to him.

“I remember you,” she admitted grudgingly. “You seem to be the strongest memory that I apparently don’t mind keeping.”

She couldn’t resist casting him a quick glance from beneath her lashes. His emotions were mixed, and blatant in his eyes. Frustration, and yet pure masculine pleasure that had her stomach flipping. He’d been right, they did have a connection; it was like an invisible electric wire between them that sizzled and snapped. It had fed her energy then, and did so now. It kept her alive, kept her going.

His gaze slid back to the house, and she didn’t realize he’d reached for her hand until his strong fingers threaded with hers.

She didn’t draw away, literally couldn’t have if she wanted to. Her hand felt almost fragile in his large one, and she squeezed his fingers, accepting the energy he gave.

“I couldn’t let you die.”

His words weren’t quite steady, and it shocked her a bit to realize how much those dark days had affected him as well.

“How did you hear about the experiments?”

He changed the subject, and she wasn’t really surprised. Darrius didn’t seem like the type of guy who liked to stay deep emotionally. He was the joker. The sensitive, funny guy who liked to keep things light.

And though it was easier now to open up to him, his current question was tricky. She didn’t want to lie to him, but oh, God, she didn’t want to tell him the truth. Didn’t want to tell
anyone
the truth.

“Well, the experiments were very quiet. I mean, they had to be. Feloray Laboratories couldn’t just throw out an ad for shifters to come in and sign up for a study.” That much was the truth. Humans weren’t aware of shifters, which meant everything was kind of done on the sly. “It was mostly word of mouth, and it eventually got back to me.” That much was…a partial truth.

“And so you volunteered to be a participant?”

“The whole thing sent alarm bells off in my head.” She drew in a slow breath, and plunged on. “So, yeah, I signed up and went in undercover, figuring I could bring back some information for the P.I.A.”

Lie. The biggest, filthiest, most blatant lie and she hated that it was now between them. She should’ve been used to it by now, because it was the same one she’d told the P.I.A.

There was no response, except for the subtle tightening of Darrius’s fingers around hers.

As the moments passed and he didn’t say anything, her pulse quickened and her throat went dry. He didn’t believe her. The realization sank in with the gentleness of a brick.

He didn’t need to argue, question her further, or even give any indication he’d heard her. She absolutely had no doubt he was screaming “bullshit” in his head.

But why? She was sure the therapist had bought the same story—and was pretty sure the agents on her team would too if she fed it to them. Hell, Darrius had at one point told her they already suspected that was her reasoning.

“That’s both stupid, and admirable.” Darrius stroked his jaw line with his free hand. “Though I’m leaning toward stupid.”

His words gave every illusion that he believed her, but she wasn’t a fool. Which mean she had to try harder.

Her pulse quickened. “Look, I know it was absolutely stupid. I should’ve come to the P.I.A. with my concerns instead of taking it on myself.”

Had her words sounded as desperate to him as they did in her head? She waited for him to reply, but he remained silent for too long.

Finally, “What was it like at the beginning of the experiments? Do you remember that much?”

Not exactly a response to her words, more a diversion from them. Which was okay, because she could answer this part honestly. She blinked and slid back to that day in her mind.

“Lots of paperwork, and everyone was really friendly. It all seemed so innocent.” She smiled faintly. “The volunteers who signed up to be a part of the tests were excited—I mean, it was a lot of money.”

“Yeah, well I doubt it was worth the cost you all paid. Feloray Laboratories basically got away with attempted murder.”

He was absolutely right. “And I want them to be held accountable more than anybody, but those contracts were too thorough.” Her voice thickened with every word. “I would be perfectly content to see Jocelyn Feloray burning over a spit in hell. She’ll be there. Someday.”

Darrius’s gaze narrowed on her, as if her vehemence had surprised him. But murmured, “That bitch has gotta be Satan’s go-to woman.”

“She’s on his speed dial.”

Darrius’s laugh was low and sexy. It died too quickly, a soft sigh replacing it. “It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would anyone want an anti-shifting drug? Why would someone want to deny their wolf side?”

“It wasn’t so much about denying that side of them.” She had to help Darrius understand. “Someone like my sister, for instance. She had a horrific break in her leg as a child and it never healed properly.”

Darrius grunted. “I noticed she had a limp.”

“She’s had it for nearly her whole life. For her to try and shift is excruciating, but you know how it is. It’s instinctive. It’s not an easy thing to control, especially when we’re children.”

Shapeshifter children were watched carefully. The community couldn’t afford to have a child shift in front of the human population. Until shifter children learned to fully control their instincts, they were kept close to home. Home schooled and only allowed to run free in areas where no humans would spot them.

In the rare instances a human did spot them, the human was given a memory wipe. A quick, painless procedure that could wipe the memory of the human, or shifter, for as far back as needed.

“I suppose I can understand someone with those circumstances.” Darrius traced a finger lightly over the palm of her hand, and the seemingly innocuous gesture sent tingles through her body, momentarily distracting her. Until he added, “So why not sign up your sister to be tested?”