Circe's Recruits: Gideon: A Multiple Partner Shifter Book (9 page)

Alex looked hopeful, at least, for a moment. Then the sadness returned. “Yeah. Okay. I’m tired.”

Not letting him go on his own, Gideon refused to acknowledge any weirdness in undressing the guy to his underwear and tucking him in like a kid. He studied Alex, saw him uninjured, then pulled the covers over him.

He at least refrained from kissing the grown man on the forehead.
Jesus. What is wrong with me?
Yet it felt more than good to sit in the living room, protecting Alex while the Circ rested.

***

Monday in the early morning, Bailey groaned as she dragged her butt out of the hotel and back into the car. The beer can on wheels didn’t do so well on the highway, but it didn’t take much gas to power the tiny thing.

She continued to drive toward Jersey, having just passed Lexington, Nebraska. Oddly, the road trip had done much to clear her mind and steady her perspective. She looked at the trip as a new beginning, another way to start her life on a new track.

U-Ground hadn’t been doing anything more than providing an income to pay off her debts. She hadn’t grown there. Hadn’t done much to help others or foster better communication with her fellow employees.

At the thought of employees like Myers and Yates, she growled low in her throat. No longer surprised when her teeth elongated or her fingernails grew, she clenched tightly around the steering wheel and dug into her own palms. The pain aroused her instinct to fight, and against her better judgment, she let visions of herself killing both men overwhelm her.

She pulled over before she lost herself in the violence. When she woke to a darkened evening, she had no awareness of having lost time. Her nails and teeth felt normal again. A glance in the vanity mirror in the visor above her showed her regular features, nothing out of place.

The knock on her windshield scared the crap out of her. After jumping nearly out of her seat, she rolled down her window.

Behind her, a pickup truck had parked, its lights glowing in the near darkness. One man remained in the passenger seat, while the driver stood by her window. The man looked a few years older than her. Not bad looking, a good old boy with a ball cap, cowboy boots, and a lanky figure in jeans and a flannel shirt.

“You okay, Miss?” He had a deep voice. But something about it unnerved her.

“Yes, thanks. Just fell asleep, I guess.”

He nodded. “Okay. Just wanted to make sure you were good. There’s not a lot on this stretch of road.”

She frowned. Now that she thought about it, this didn’t look like I-80. But she had no intention of telling this guy she was lost. “Ah, okay.”

“There’s a gas station and a bar ahead, maybe five miles. You could get something to eat there if you were hungry.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded then left, getting back into his truck and taking off down the road in the direction of the gas station he’d mentioned.

She had no idea why she hadn’t liked him. But the idea of food had her stomach grumbling. She drove toward the source of food and gas, needing a bit of each.

After refueling, she parked next door at what appeared to be a crowding bar. She entered, saw a mix of cowboys and locals, and felt safe enough to grab a booth in the corner, away from everyone. The bar looked like it also served as a restaurant, and the smell of food had her stomach cramping.

A hallway toward the rear promised to lead to restrooms and an accompanying adult section in the back. The server by her table noted the direction of her gaze. “That’s where all the fun happens.” She grinned and snapped her gum. “It’s a straight up bar back there. Strictly alcohol and no kids allowed.”

Not that Bailey saw any children in this section either. She ordered a burger and fries, as well as a tall iced tea. Country music played on a juke box, and several couples danced. A glance at her phone told her she’d lost time again today. Eight hours.
Damn it.

So much for arriving in New Jersey by Thursday. At the rate she continued to go, she’d be lucky to get there by Friday. Another day added to her schedule.

The great thing about her trip though, it allowed for some quiet time thinking, and an opportunity to learn about the crazy project Dr. Edwin Lang had been overseeing.

A glance around showed no one paying her any attention, so Bailey withdrew the paper file from her bag and read from where she’d left off.

Lang was being paid by Amelia Norton, of the Oil Nortons, the ones richer than Croesus. Curious that tidbit had remained secret for so long. As far as Bailey knew, U-Ground was run by Sheider Conglomerate, a logistics group that owned several transport companies, none of which that had anything to do with Amelia Norton.

The oil heiress was a supposed diva in her early forties who partied as if she’d never left her twenties. She slept with married billionaires, younger men
and
women, and led a frivolous life of ostentatious spending. Not exactly someone who’d think investing in a government transport company would be a good fit.

Curious, Bailey read on. The production of supersoldiers wasn’t considered as profitable as supermercenaries.
Super?
Apparently that referred to enhanced abilities. Stuff straight out of a science fiction mag, except from what Bailey had seen, U-Ground might actually have succeeded.

The strong men working as security on the lower levels had always struck her as more than normal. And the psychics Katie had talked about? Bailey thought she might have met one a week ago. Kennedy something. She’d been super nice, and she’d almost seemed to be reading Bailey’s mind at times. Something Bailey had chalked up to coincidence. But now…

The first time Katie had mentioned level four, Bailey had stupidly thought she herself might have ties with the psychic project. For about three seconds. Her silly intuition was wrong as often as it was right. She’d never been able to predict the future, though she did make a lot of accurate guesses about things.

Since losing spots of time, she seemed to have a pretty decent ability to gauge people. Take her server, for instance. The woman was rough around the edges but genuinely caring. She worked hard to feed her two kids, with another on the way.

Not that she was showing with a stick figure under that half apron, but Bailey’s imagination filled in the blanks.

She thanked the waitress for her food and dug in, spotting the same cowboy who’d stopped earlier. Now him…a growl built in her throat again. Him she could see taking advantage of helpless women. He’d flirt with them at the bar while his friend drugged their drinks. Then the pair would take the girl to a private room and have their way with her.

Bailey wolfed down her food, angry at the thought of such evil perpetrated anywhere near her. Before she realized how insane she was acting. How the hell could she know anything about the nice men who’d stopped to make sure she was okay?

She snorted, amused at herself, and turned back to the file.

Three viable candidates had been selected from a pool of hundreds, apparently. Three wild men with poor backgrounds. Brawlers with streaks of cruelty, independence, and run-ins with the law had been tagged as subjects A, B, and C.

She read further. Gideon Spencer, Elijah Ortiz, and Carter Freeman had special abilities that made them perfect for Dr. Lang’s study.

That someone had actually written such nonsense, that they believed it, had her wondering if Katie hadn’t been right about secret experiments all along. Bailey knew Katie had been hurt or even killed for some information. But she had a hard time believing this science fiction to be real. There was always an explanation for odd occurrences. Like her blackouts. Likely a brain tumor she kept putting off having examined.

“Excuse me, miss. Glad to see you got here okay.”

She glanced up to see the cute—potentially rapey—cowboy from the pickup standing by her table.

“Thanks for the heads-up.” She smiled, expecting him to be on his way.

When he just stood there, she slid the file back into her bag and waited.

“Can I join you?”

“I’m nearly done, then I plan to head out. But thanks.”

He smiled and nodded, then dropped the keys he’d been toying with near her chair. After she picked them up and handed them to him, he tucked them back into his pocket. “No problem. Well, take care, and thanks for the keys.”

She nodded, wondering what that had been about. When she took a sip of her tea, she knew. Her super sensitive taste buds immediately tasted something funny.

Bastard. An unfamiliar rage built within, and she knew she needed to leave before she gave in to it. After paying her tab, she hurried to the ladies’ room, her bag in hand. Country music blared through the thin walls, making it difficult to even hear herself think. After using the facilities, she cleaned up and turned to leave. Only to find the door opened and that loser of a cowboy enter, followed by his friend.

They turned the lock and blocked the doorway.

“Well now,” his friend said, looking her over. “That is one fine filly indeed.”

The cowboy grinned. “How you feelin’, honey? You look a little tired.”

The rage inside her built. Take advantage of her?
Bull. Shit.
Memories of Myers and Yates returned, of how they’d thought they could have her. So worthless. So weak.

She smiled at the cowboys and dropped her bag. Then she let the anger loose and felt her fangs and claws growing.

“What the hell?” The friend gaped at her.

The other stepped closer, staring at her eyes. “Are those contacts?”

“Let’s play,” she said, her voice raspy, unlike the way she usually sounded.

Part of her liked the roughness, and it
really
liked the toys who’d chosen to fuck with her.

When one of the cowboys pulled a knife from his back pocket, she laughed. “Oh goodie. Now we’ll have a fair fight.” She held up a hand full of lethal claws.

Their screams soon turned to gurgles, their lungs filling with blood, she gloried in the righteous scent of victory. “Yeah, I got friends in low places,” she said with a chuckle, and lifted one seriously maimed cowboy in her arms for one final dance.

Chapter Six

Monday evening, Gideon still waited for Alex to wake. The poor guy had gone down the day before and had slept for hours. Elijah and Carter were fighting mad, though. The guys paced around the house. Gideon had ignored Doc’s advice to leave Carter drugged and unable to do harm.

“You’re giving me a headache with all that pacing,” he said in a low voice, losing patience.

“Give it a rest, Gideon,” Elijah snapped. Unlike Carter, Elijah had a hair-trigger temper.

“You know, if we’d finished that fight, I’d have ripped you a new asshole.” Gideon waited for the snarky response no doubt coming.

Elijah’s lip curled, and Gideon felt himself smile. They’d spent the morning beating the shit out of one another, with Gideon coming out the victor each and every time. Neither Elijah’s deftness nor Carter’s brash strength had been able to put him down, which didn’t sit well with Elijah. Carter didn’t seem to mind.

“Please. I’m a straight up kick-boxing master. I’d have taken you to the mat in under five.”

Now, for some reason, Elijah no longer bothered him. The man’s persistent need to get under Gideon’s skin amused him. “Hours, maybe. That’s if you talked me to death.”

Carter snickered. “Come on, Eli. That’s funny.”

Elijah and Carter had known each other prior to the bout in Philadelphia. Friendly if not friends, the pair often fought on the same circuit.

“Shut up, Carter.” Elijah continued to pace. “What’s taking Palmer so long? And when can we go? I gave your Doc Dennis a freakin’ gallon of blood.”

Gideon raised a brow.

“Okay, a pint. Whatever. Point is, I did what I was asked. Now I want out of here. The others make me itch to get gone.”

Carter nodded. “I don’t like it here either. The guys are hot, but they give me the creeps.”

“Really?” Gideon wondered. “All of them? Or just McKinley and Hale?”

“Hale’s okay. McKinley’s super freaky. But all of them have that way of staring at you. Like they think we’re about to rape and pillage and burn down their houses.” Carter rolled his eyes. “As if. I can’t explain it, but we’re intruding on their territory.”

“Exactly. Let’s go.” Elijah stopped pacing.

“No. We stay and find out what they did to us.”

“Who died and made you boss?” Elijah asked.

And
that.
Right there. Despite being amused, Gideon’s beast rose up to accept the challenge. He’d been feeling a need to dominate since Ortiz and Freeman had been wakened and dumped in the house. His responsibility, according to Roane. Recollections of mating heats and a pack made sense, at least to his beast they did. Because the thing inside Gideon knew it needed to set precedent. And no time like the present.

Gideon rose from the couch and stared at Elijah and Carter. The sensual awareness had been building all day long. Fighting, brushing up against one another, touching, scratching, biting. It would all come together, finally.

The three of them were close to the same height. Before the lab, Gideon had been six-two. Now he stood a good six-four. Carter edged an inch or two over him, but they all had muscle mass that hadn’t been there previously.