Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (11 page)

Slade tightened his grip on the steering wheel, swearing as he tried to get his thoughts under control, to get back to the equilibrium that enabled him to live his life. He took a deep breath, steadying the balance of oxygen in his body as he forced himself to analyze the situation.

There was no doubt that Anya had knocked him off his game. The only logical solution was to cut her loose. Easy. Clean. Simple.

He couldn't walk away from her, because then he'd die, and he'd leave shit undone that couldn't be left undone. Plus, he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to kill her, let anyone else hurt her, or even let her go.

Oh, hell. This was bad. Really bad. He couldn't let her go, but every second with her was making him want her more. He liked the attitude she gave him. He liked how she didn't hide the fact she cared. He liked touching her, kissing her, and testing her.

He hadn't been lying when he'd said he wanted to fuck her. The urge had gotten stronger with each passing minute. Yeah, the soft kisses she'd given him had blown his mind. So, maybe not fuck her. Maybe a long, slow night of seduction, sin, and nakedness. Yeah, that sounded good.

Too good.

Shit.

He glanced over at her as he shifted lanes, blowing past the other cars as if they were parked on the highway. Maybe he
should
fuck her. Maybe ten minutes of hard-core, sweaty, no-feelings-involved fucking would clear his head and get her out of his system.

She'd tucked her hands beneath her chin, her face relaxed in her sleep. She looked younger, almost innocent, so different than the life he led. Scowling, he reached over and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Shit. Her skin was soft. Her hair was silky smooth. She was fragile and vulnerable.

All words that weren't a part of his life.

Scowling, he wrapped both hands around the wheel and flexed his shoulders, staring grimly at the highway in front of him. He had to focus. He couldn't be derailed. He couldn't—

The sign for his brother's exit loomed ahead.

Instinctively, he flicked his blinker on and began to shift lanes to get off the highway. He always stopped by to check on his brother when he was in the area. It would take an extra five minutes to drive by and check his energy. Three times Slade had actually spoken to him, but he'd wiped his mind afterwards. All the other times, he'd simply observed from a safe, strategic distance, making sure his brother was still okay, living a normal life devoid of murdered parents and an assassin brother. It had been too long since he'd checked on him. It was time.

He took his foot off the gas, and the car slowed down to take the exit, but as he did so, Anya's eyes opened. She looked at him blankly for a second, and then yawned. "We're here already?" Her voice was sleepy, making her sound even more vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth, and hit the gas again, flying past the exit. Now was not the time to check on his brother, not even for a moment. He was too far off his game. It wasn't worth the risk. "Not yet. You can sleep more. Another half hour."

He already had Anya to deal with. Now wasn't the time to stop by and visit his brother. He wasn't sharp right now, and he didn't need the assassins on Anya's tail to track them to the house of a guy who The Black Swan had absolutely no professional reason to visit.

Anya went back to sleep immediately, showing just how exhausted she was. She'd been on the run her entire life, alone for two weeks since Julia had disappeared. How much had she slept? Eaten? Done anything except look over her shoulder for the danger hunting her?

Did she have any skills at all? Was it pure luck that she was still alive?

And why the hell was she so important that the red-haired woman had pulled him back from death so he could protect her?

He still hadn't answered that question, and it was bothering him. It was important. If he understood why the two of them had been chosen, he would know how to keep her safe.

He had to find out more, before it was too late.

W
ake up
.
Slade's low voice brushed through Anya's mind with an urgency that had her alert instantly.
But don't move.

Her eyes snapped open. She'd slumped down in the seat while she was sleeping, and had her head on his right thigh. Awareness leapt through her as she felt his thigh muscle flex beneath her cheek. Oh, God, really? Her face was almost at his crotch? Horrified, she started to get up. He pressed his hand to her shoulder, his fingers digging hard in a silent message not to move.

She tensed.
What's going on?

Something has been following us for the last six miles. Stay down. I'm going to try to shake it.
His quad tensed beneath her cheek again, and the car sprang forward, throwing her back against him. The back of her head hit his stomach, and she looked up to see him glance in his rearview mirror. His face was taut, his eyes dark and focused. He looked like a predator, primed for assault, not like the man who'd kissed her senseless such a short time ago.

She swallowed, watching his face as he searched the night, searching for some indication of how much danger they were in
. What is it?

I can't get a read. I don't know.

Anya's heart began to pound, and she had to fight her instincts not to sit up and look behind them.
She forced herself to lie still, so conscious of his hand on her shoulder, his grip steady and secure, even though she had no intention of moving.
What can I do?

I was going to ask you that,
he replied
. What can you do?
The car swerved to the left, and then to the right, as he navigated the highway.
Do you have any combat skills?

She almost laughed at his question.
I can bake bread. Will that help?

No paranormal skills at all?

She bit her lip as a thought crossed her mind, but she shook it off.
No. None. I told you.

He didn't answer, and she risked a glance at him. His jaw was set, his gaze intense as he scanned the highway.
Don't lie to me, Anya. You're more than a run-of-the-mill human being. You have to be or you wouldn't have gotten me for your guardian. I can't help you if you don't talk to me.

She tried to block him from her mind.
I'm not lying—

Come on, Anya. I'm still alive because I can see through lies and illusions. What the hell is going on? I—
He cut off their connection suddenly, and she felt his mind shift in another direction.
It's the demon.

Sudden pain exploded in her mind, and she gripped her head as he unleashed some sort of psychic energy outward. He threw up a shield between them almost instantly, but the damage had already been done. She gasped, holding her head, fighting nausea and dizziness.

"Shit. Sorry." Slade laid his hand over her forehead, and just as suddenly, she felt waves of healing energy flooding her mind. "I'm not used to being connected with anyone. I didn't protect you before I hit him. You okay?"

"Yes. Just give me a second." Whatever he was doing with his hand was incredible, and she closed her eyes, letting his energy heal the fragmented parts of her mind. "How are you doing that?

"It's how I heal myself."

She didn't ask how they could be that connected, and he didn't offer it. After a moment of silence, she spoke up. "Is it gone? Can I sit up?"

"Yeah." He released her, and she scooted back to her side of the car. The guardrail was flying past so quickly it was a blur, and she peeked at the speedometer. "Oh, God. Really?"

"Speed is my thing," he said, knowing what she was talking about without her even saying it. "It's okay. I almost never crash."

"Almost never?" Then she saw the curve of his mouth, and realized he was teasing her. "You choose
now
to get a sense of humor? You almost gave me a heart attack." But her tension eased, and she closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat, trying to calm herself. "How did the demon find us?"

"It tracked us from my safe house. You're easier to track than I am. We're going to have to work on that."

"How?"

"I don't know yet." He sounded irritated, and she looked over at him.

He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, and his jaw was flexed. He looked tense and irritable, nothing like the man who had kissed her so sensually at the bar. He also didn't look like the smooth, cold, killing machine of a few moments ago. He looked like a man who was human enough to let something annoy him.

She turned sideways in the seat, studying him. "You're changing," she said. "It's harder for you now, being cold. You feel more. Does that endanger you?"

His jaw tightened. "I'm fine."

She sighed. "Liar," she said softly.

He ignored her.

The miles clicked past silently for a few minutes, then he spoke. "You know things you aren't telling me," he said. "You have suspicions about why you and your family are being hunted. I need to know."

She checked her mental barriers to make sure he wasn't sniffing around her mind. "I don't know—"

"Give it up, Anya." His voice was hard as he gunned the engine. "You need to tell me what you know. Now."

She bit her lip, looking out the window. She'd been taught not to trust anyone, especially men. Her mother had drilled that into her head, and experience had reinforced it. "I have never told anyone," she said quietly.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, finally, "It's that dangerous to you if someone finds out?"

She glanced at him, surprised by his astute understanding of the situation. "Yes."

He let out his breath and shifted gears, the car's engine whining as he pushed it. "You're right not to trust me," he finally said. "No one is worth trusting with something that important."

She was surprised by his comment. "You're not worth trusting?"

"No. I'm not. I have no idea what choices I'm going to have to make in the future, so no, I'm not." He looked over at her. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop demanding you tell me what I need to know, but you're right not to tell me. But I do need to know."

She raised her eyebrows at his dichotomous remark. "Seriously with that circular logic?"

"Yeah." He changed lanes, moving closer to the breakdown lane. "I'm running blind right now. I have no idea what the hell to do with you, or how to protect you. I'm used to being in complete control of the situation and the information. I'm not now, and that makes me ineffective and puts us both at risk."

She leaned back against the seat, wishing she could tell him. She was exhausted from a lifetime of carrying a secret that could destroy her. She wondered what it would be like to turn her problems over to someone else for help...then she shuddered. The mere thought of exposing herself like that was terrifying.

"We're here." He interrupted her thoughts by pointing to her right.

She sat up and looked out the window. There was a six story, gray cement warehouse looming up beside the highway. It looked old and abandoned, with broken windows on the top floors, and debris scattered in the empty parking lot. Her heart sank when she saw it. If Julia was trapped there, it couldn't be good. "Do we just go in?"

"We'll see." He eased off the gas as he sped down the ramp, circling under the highway and emerging by an entrance to the parking lot. He idled the car at the edge of the parking lot, and they both leaned forward, inspecting the tall, desolate building.

"I don't sense anyone there," he said, after a moment.

She glanced over at him. "You can sense people?"

"Yes. I can track their mental energy. There's nothing in there that's alive."

Anya's heart sank, and sudden tears threatened. "We're going in anyway," she said. "Beckett said Julia was here."

"She told you to come here. There's a difference." Slade eased the car into the parking lot, the engine humming as he drove up next to a massive garage door. He parked the car and turned off the engine. He draped his arms across the steering wheel, scanning the building. Anya could feel his energy drifting across her skin, and she knew he was scanning with his mind again.

"Anything?"

"No." He looked over at her, his face stoic and grim, the face of a predator about to go into battle. He looked every bit the assassin, a lethal force of nature. "Ready?"

She nodded, suddenly very glad he was on her side right now. "Ready."

* * *

S
lade's skin
prickled as he eased open the door to the warehouse, the lock hanging in shattered bits after he'd taken it apart. He'd had to take down an extensive alarm system, which made him wary. Someone was hiding something significant, but he couldn't pick up a live presence. There was something about the place that was setting off his internal radar, but he couldn't place it.

Maybe it was just that it had been a long time since he'd walked into an unknown situation. He was always on a mission, always on a plan, but this time, he was going in blind.

Maybe it was the fact that Anya was right behind him, vulnerable. He didn't like that she was here, but there was no way in hell he was leaving her alone, without his protection. Everything about this situation was wrong, but it was their only lead, and he had to find out what the hell was going on.

His mind constantly scanning for psychic energy, he stepped inside the dingy warehouse. It was dark and dusty, with just the tiniest sliver of light beading through the cracks in the upper windows from the highway streetlights.

"What's that smell?"

The moment Anya asked it, he caught the scent too. It was very faint, but once he noticed it, he could smell it clearly. The deep, rich scent of musk, mixed with something more human. He froze, his entire body slamming into alertness. Son of a bitch. He knew that scent. He knew that scent much too well.

Memories assaulted him, ugly memories, and he shut them out, shifting into assassin mode.
Stay close.
He moved silently across the floor, tracking the scent from the far side of the warehouse.

Anya was right behind him, moving as silently as he was. He couldn't hear so much as her breath, and actually glanced over his shoulder once to make sure she was there.

She was.

On the other side of the warehouse, there was a steel door. He headed right for it, and when he reached it, the scent was stronger. There was blood mixed in with it now. Sweat. Fear. Pain.
Shit.

He knew what he was going to find behind that door.
Stay here when I go in. Guard the door.

Anya shook her head.
No way. I'm going with you.

He swore, even as he put his hand over the electronic alarm panel.
You don't want to go in there, Anya.
He reached out with his mind, using his psychic energy to connect to the electronic impulses in the alarm system.

She paled.
Is Julia in there? Do you sense her?

No one is alive in there.
The alarm cleared, and he put his hand on the doorknob, using his mind to manipulate the electronic key pad.

Is someone
dead
in there?

He shrugged, and turned the doorknob.
Stay here.
But as he moved through the door, she followed him, keeping so close he could feel the heat from her body. He found sixteen infrared cameras, and he disarmed them carefully with psychic pulses.

It was pitch black inside, and he pulled out a micro flashlight. He flicked it on, and the thin beam of light illuminated a long corridor of cells with steel bars, and impenetrable glass, a sight he'd seen before, one that he knew all too well. Son of a bitch. That's why he'd been tapped for this assignment.

Beside him, Anya sucked in her breath. She let out a yelp of distress, and tried to run past him to check the cells. He caught her wrist and yanked her back behind him.
No.

She went still as he eased forward, constantly scanning the surrounding area for mental signatures of someone approaching, but it was still clear. They reached the first cell, and he directed the thin beam of light inside.

There was a mattress, a toilet, and a set of shackles.

Anya pressed up against his back, looking past him.
Oh, my God,
she whispered.
What is this place?

It's a staging area.
He moved down the corridor, faster now, checking each cell. Every one was empty, but most were soiled. Blood. Urine. Semen.
Hell
. It was just like before, as if he'd never left it behind.

He felt Anya tense.
A staging area? For what?

They reached the end of the corridor and ran out of cells to check. All of them were empty, but they'd had occupants recently. He turned to face her, studying her face closely. "Shifters, Anya. It's a staging area for shifters. The black market trading of shifters. Panthers. Cougars. Wolves. You name it. Captured for experimentation, sexual use, breeding."

Her face drained of color. "Oh my God."

"Julia's a shifter, isn't she? Your mom? Marjorie?" He paused. "You?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear, and then he knew. He knew what she hadn't told him. She wasn't simply a shifter. "You're a white leopard, aren't you? All of you. White leopards." The holy grail of the shifter black market. Worth billions of dollars to the merciless elite who wanted to use them as breeders, for their pelts, as sex toys to be hidden in the dungeons of the depraved. Almost extinct, now, wiped out by hunters. No wonder she hadn't told him. No wonder he'd been selected. Son of a bitch.