Alec rubbed his face, sighed, and then asked, "What do the guards outside know?"
"They‘re Vidal‘s thugs. And they didn‘t see anything," she answered. "You‘re safe. There‘s nobody left who—"
Calum glanced at the handler. "Just one."
Victoria stiffened. "Calum. No."
He studied her for a moment. She‘d burned the information, saved Alec‘s life. Hope tried to ease past his barriers as he looked at her. She‘d used all those military skills to help the Daonain today. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn‘t have to pay the penalty. His voice soft, he said,
"Victoria, return to Cold Creek. We‘ll talk. Perhaps—"
She interrupted, "What are you planning to do to him?"
"He cannot retain his knowledge of us."
Her appalled expression grew. She looked over at Alec. "You said it worked good on one-time spottings. More than that, and you destroy big chunks of their memory. You can‘t do that to him."
"Vicki, there‘s no choice." Alec held his hands out. "He‘s with the government. They‘ll try to exterminate us."
Her face turned cold. "No. It‘s not a risk I‘ll allow."
Calum felt the tiny splinter of hope die.
"Vicki," Alec said softly, "don‘t. You can‘t win against both of us."
She slid a pistol out of the small black bag beside her.
Calum looked at her easy grip, the tilt of the automatic, and sighed. One more skill she possessed. "I do not think you will kill us."
Her finger tightened on the trigger, loosened. "Probably not." The pistol dipped lower, pointed directly at Alec. "But if you figure it‘s okay to damage Wells‘ mind, then I guess it‘s okay to blow out Alec‘s knee. It‘d cripple him for life, Calum. There‘d be no bone left there to heal."
Calum tilted his head in acquiescence, his heart turning to ash inside his chest.
She stepped backwards. "Bring your car to the front, Wells."
Silent as a cat, the man slipped out the door. Too soon, the hum of an engine came from outside the house.
Calum caught her gaze. "You are a shifter, Victoria. We‘re your people." Please hear me.
Don"t do this to us all. "If you leave with him, I will have to call for your death. Is this truly what you want?"
She started to speak, then shook her head. As she backed toward the door, tears filled her eyes.
But the pistol never wavered.
*
Daylight was breaking when Vic finally decided she‘d driven far enough. She was high in the mountains, almost to the Canadian border, and miles down a tiny fire road. With a sigh, she shut the engine off and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She‘d cried enough, cursed enough…grieved enough.
After leaving the farmhouse, she‘d dropped Wells off in a convenient town. When she told him she was keeping his car, he‘d shrugged and called it a fair trade for his life. He‘d said, as if he‘d just discovered the fact, "You really are a werelion."
Almost able to smile, she‘d given him Lachlan‘s words, hearing again the young voice saying, ‗ Some people call us Daonain or shifters. Me, I prefer werecats."
Then Wells had asked her what she‘d do. His open concern felt…odd. Nice.
She slid out of the car and heard the engine ping as it cooled. She‘d told him she‘d be all right. Maybe, eventually, that wouldn‘t be a lie. She‘d made errors over the past months, stupid mistakes due to her background, her fears. People had been hurt because of her poor decisions.
She‘d been hurt.
Breathing in the cold, clean air, she stripped, locked her clothes in the trunk, and gave herself a good scratch. She itched all over—apparently Alec hadn‘t bullshitted about the effects of being surrounded by metal. After pulling off her bandages, she checked the bullet hole. The bleeding had not only stopped, but the wound looked a couple of days old. Shifters healed fast.
Good.
Time to move on. She‘d fixed everything she could. Now she had to confront her own fears and decide what came next.
Through the long night‘s drive, she had remembered what Calum had said in the cave of the hot-springs, ‗ The silence of the mountains serves me well when I am troubled.‘ Now, tilting her head back, she looked upward where the rising sun lit the snow-topped peaks of the huge mountain range.
And she shifted.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Calum paced around the shelves, unable to settle. At the front of the bookstore, Thorson sat at his desk, listening to Alec. With a jolt of pain, Calum saw how the newest grief had aged the old man. Last week, when he‘d heard about Victoria‘s betrayal from Angie, Thorson had disappeared into the mountains.
He‘d only returned today.
Calum paced back to the counter as Alec related the events at Vidal‘s farmhouse. "...after Vicki and Wells got away, we burned the building."
Thorson leaned back in his chair with a disbelieving expression. "You two couldn‘t catch a car on a dirt road?"
"We tried," Calum said. "Almost caught up, and then she threw something out the window.
What did you call it, Alec?"
"A flash-bang. Good name for it."
Thorson snorted out a laugh. "I‘ve read about them. Blinding light, deafening noise?"
"Precisely." Calum rubbed his ears, the memory still painful. "In cat form and at night, it‘s quite intense. By the time we could see again, they were gone."
"She‘s a cool cookie," Thorson said.
Alec slammed a fist on the counter as his temper, so long under control, ignited like the bloody flash-bang. "Damn you, Thorson, she‘s not a cool anything. She betrayed us. And that spymaster she saved will do everything in his power to hand us over to the government. She chose him over us."
Calum understood his reaction. Seeing Victoria choose the enemy had knotted his guts like a meal of rotting carrion. And yet…
Thorson turned his head away, his face tight.
Calum leaned against the counter wearily. Too many sleepless nights. He‘d tried to get over the pain of her loss, to see past his anger. The clan waited for him to declare Victoria‘s life forfeit, and he…couldn‘t. Something bothered him, kept him from taking that step, and he couldn‘t tell whether his emotions were swaying him or if he‘d missed an essential fact. "If you don‘t mind, Joe, I would like to go through this together. I am not seeing clearly, I fear."
Thorson‘s face tightened, increasing Calum‘s guilt, and then he nodded. "All right. Start with when she first appeared. With my Lachlan."
"Swane and Vidal had captured him," Alec said. His hands were still clenched, but he was making the effort.
Calum moved up beside him, shoulder rubbing shoulder, and felt his brother‘s anger diminish. "Did she truly assist in Lachlan‘s escape or fake it to gain her entry with us?"
Thorson shook his head. "Lachlan Gifted her. The boy had the ability to read people. He wouldn‘t have made a mistake, and an enemy wouldn‘t have stood still for the ritual. Truth, Cosantir. It was a true Gifting."
Thorson would not have been fooled. "Yes."
"Got herself hired into the bar to collect information. Can‘t get around that," Alec said.
"She saved Jamie that day," Calum put in softly. He could never forget that. "But when we caught her the night of the Gathering, she lied. She told us she was looking for you, Thorson. Not that she was investigating shifters."
"There‘s no law against killing two birds with one paw," Thorson admitted, the growl gone from his voice. "I do believe Lachlan gave her that task. There was no lie in her scent—or her sorrow."
Calum thought back to that night in Thorson‘s home where Victoria had first told them how Lachlan died. Her grief had been real. "Aye."
"My boy…he‘d have been terrified of exposing us," Thorson said. "He probably made her promise to keep silent."
"But she‘s an agent for the CIA. She admitted that, and we know Wells is her handler."
Calum‘s brows drew together. "So this sp
y has just found out about creatures she‘d never seen before. What‘s her first action?"
Alec‘s mouth twisted. "Tell her boss."
"No, dammit," Thorson snapped. His eyes had brightened. "Stupid cub. Are we flooded with government agents?"
"No," Alec said slowly. "Aside from Vidal‘s men, only Wells showed up."
Calum leaned on the counter for support. "Could she have acted independently? Checked us out on her own?"
"You two know her better than I do," Thorson said. "Would that little werecat go running to her boss with a fairytale story? Especially if she promised to keep us a secret?"
Calum remembered when Jamie was two. " Do it myself, Daddy.” Victoria would have been much, much worse. "No. I have a feeling she‘d felt torn between her duties even before she turned shifter." He remembered her careful questions in Thorson‘s house, and her admission, “If I thought you were dangerous, I"m not sure what I"d do.”
"But Wells said she‘d get a medal for the information. That doesn‘t sound like someone on our side."
"I talked to Angie today." By Herne, he was still missing a piece of the bloody puzzle. "And this is what I want you to hear, Joe. I fear my own desires might affect my judgment," he admitted.
Thorson nodded. "She‘s your mate, Cosantir. You cannot help but be affected. Go on."
"Angie said Victoria and her boss had talked very quietly. Then Victoria stood up and shook her head as if she‘d refused something. The man was furious. Angie was heading over there—
right before Wells raised his voice—because she thought he might hurt Victoria."
"Vicki turned him down," Thorson said, massaging the old wound on his shoulder. "Just like she told you."
"Calum, I know you want… Brawd, she let him go free," Alec whispered. His face looked like stone, hardened with pain. "She chose him over us. You have no choice; she has to die."
I shouldn"t have discussed this with him here. Calum squeezed his shoulder. Could either of them survive the death of their lifemate?
"When I wandered the forest, I wondered where she might run to for help." Thorson‘s gaze rested on the picture of his grandson. "You know, she told me once she didn‘t have anyone left either."
No family. But surely someone so loving as Victoria would have found a substitute… Deep in his chest, hope flickered to life as he finally scented the right trail. "Alec," Calum said, his voice hoarse. "We watched them through the windows before we jumped. Remember the look on his face?"
Alec frowned, and then his eyes narrowed. "She‘d cut him loose. They talked. And he looked… His eyes were red as if he wanted to cry. He wasn‘t looking at her like an employer or a lover either." Alec rubbed his hands over his face. "And from the way she reacted to us hurting him, she loves him. Hell, he‘s probably like her daddy, and we wanted to do a mind-wipe on him."
"We didn‘t leave her many options, did we?"
"Herne, how could we have been so stupid?" Light bloomed in Alec‘s eyes as he reached the same conclusion as Calum. "But if he‘s family, sharing information with him doesn‘t break the Law."
Calum smiled. "Aye. Family can share."
Thorson barked a laugh, then jerked his head toward the door. "Cosantir. Cahir. Please fetch my granddaughter and bring her home."
*
Fulfilling Thorson‘s command wasn‘t as easy as it had sounded, Alec thought, over a week later. The Vixen had disappeared as if she‘d never existed. Well, that wasn‘t surprising, considering she knew the Daonain would kill her. Alec put out an APB, used every legal and illegal method he knew to track her. Nothing. That damned spy-boss had trained her well.
The shorter days of winter had turned gray and miserable, and he wanted her with an ache that grew steadily worse. Although he and Calum tried to keep up a cheerful front for Jamie‘s sake, they didn‘t succeed very well, and she was pining too.
Last week, they‘d discovered exactly who Vicki‘s handler was. She‘d made one slip in calling him by name.
Human channels of communication were too risky, but Calum had contacted Daonain on the east coast and arranged for the OtherFolk to leave a message for the man in his old Victorian house. House-brownies weren‘t averse to making calls when the bribe was big enough.
Alec had to wonder how the agent had reacted to finding a note on his kitchen table in his well-secured home.
No word, so far, but if he really cared for her like a father…
An hour later, the door of his office opened.
Alec‘s pen dropped as Calum walked in, followed by the handler. "Wells," Alec said in a hoarse voice.
Wells pulled a chair next to the desk, seated himself, and smoothed his dark gray suit. "You wanted to talk. I prefer to speak in person."
"Right." Alec glanced at Calum. Where to start? "We‘ve been trying to locate Vicki."
A glimmer of amusement showed in Wells‘ pale blue eyes. "The Sergeant rarely sits still long enough for someone to shoot at her."
Calum poured them all coffee from the battered coffeemaker in the corner and set a cup in front of Wells. "You seem the type to take it black."
"Very perceptive." He leaned forward, his eyes like blue ice. "Why‘d you change your mind about her, might I ask?"
"We managed to put together some of her actions, her motivations," Calum said smoothly.
He gave Wells a level gaze. "Your offering her a medal for her information came close to earning her a death sentence. I hope that gives you a sense of satisfaction."
Wells paled at the cold statement of truth. His fingers closed around the coffee cup and opened. "I didn‘t realize that until…afterward. I‘ve handled it—her—badly."
Wells versus the Cosantir. I should take bets on the winner, Alec thought nastily. Then again, didn‘t women tend to mate with men like their fathers? He buried most of his irritation. "If that‘s so, maybe now we can stop playing these asinine games."
"Not yet. The Sergeant would get annoyed if I was mistaken and helped you—whatever you are—to hunt her down," Wells said and looked at Calum. "Why do you want Vic back?"
He answered simply, "I love her."
Wells‘ gaze turned to Alec.
Over the last week, he‘d tried not to think of her, at least during the day. The tiny pebbles of memories—her laugh, her flowing grace, her scent—could so easily turn into an avalanche—the way she moved under him in the night, how she bit her lips as she studied the police manual, the emptiness of their home without her. As with Calum, the answer was simple, "I love her."
"She is, essentially, my daughter." Wells wrapped long fingers around his cup as if his hands were cold. "I would almost prefer you to be hunting her than to want her as your own."
To Alec‘s shock, Calum actually growled.
A hint of a smile crossed Wells‘ face. "But she loves you both, unworthy as you are."
"She said that?" Alec asked, the question escaping before he thought.
"Oh, yes, that very night." Wells grimaced. "In the same conversation where she made me give my word. I vowed to—" he shifted to an obvious quote, " „— never ever, reveal, by any means whatsoever, anything about the shifters or anything that could lead to the shifters."”
Calum raised his eyebrows. "She threatened you?"
"Worse. She cried."
"Ah." Calum sighed. "She might as well cut your heart out with that knife of hers; it would hurt less."
Wells nodded, his eyes on the far wall. "I‘ve never broken my word in my life, and at my age, I‘m not about to start. Your people have nothing to fear from me."
"Or anyone else?" Calum asked.
"At the moment, there is no interest and no information about you that I can discover."
Wells moved his shoulders. "How long that might last is not up to me."
"Good enough," Alec said.
"I do have one remaining question," Calum said dryly. "Do you happen to know where we can find our lifemate?"
"No. I don‘t." Wells‘ face t
urned bleak. "I haven‘t been able to locate her either."
Chapter Twenty-eight
Her paws took her south, and the rest of her agreed with the destination. She wasn‘t sure exactly how long she‘d been in the forest now. The first week or so seemed a blur. Every time she‘d change back to human, all the pain would return, and she‘d simply kneel and cry like some abandoned baby.
But her grief had slowly eased, and now she‘d shift to human during the day, sit in the sun, and think. Over the days, she worked through her choices.
She had a real tactical problem—how to keep the Daonain from killing her—that couldn‘t be solved until she answered the tougher question: Go back or not?
Oh, tough decision. She was a damned brave soldier. Yeah, shoot her to pieces, even kill her? No problem. Walk into a firefight? You bet.
But risk her heart? Fuck that. Talk about a scaredy-cat. Like a real coward, she hadn‘t even waited for the battle to start. Hell, she had run at the first artillery fire. But soldiers had been known to desert the field of battle, and then manage to get control of themselves. To courageously return to the fight.
Could she?
The safest choice was to stay away. Live as an outlaw in the forests, or stay in the human world and hide her animal half. She could manage. Wells would help, even move her to a far-away country if needed. She‘d lived undercover for years. Nothing new.
Or she could return. So, so much scarier. The physical risk: she could die, and —even worse—Alec or Calum might be the ones who killed her. Yeah, ugly outcome. But death was nothing new.
What really scared her spitless was the thought of fighting for the life—the love—she wanted. Of opening herself up to being hurt emotionally. Because—she took a hard breath—
those two men could hurt her worse than even dying.
If it had been someone besides Calum and Alec in that restaurant, would she have run when Wells made her look like a traitor? Hell no.
If it hadn‘t been her lovers treating her like the bad guy in the farmhouse, would she have given up so easily? Or would she have told Wells to leave and stayed to battle it out?