“It’s that dancer, isn’t it?” she said with a heavy sigh. The artificial link between us wasn’t anywhere near as strong as the natural bonds I’d had with my brothers or the connection I’d had with my previous handler, but I could still feel echoes of her annoyance and frustration.
I grunted, unable to lie to her.
“You know the rules. Don’t touch the humans,” she warned.
Screw the rules.
Jen sighed again. “Your mating drive is spiking. We’ll… find you a receptive female.” Her voice grew tight and unease pulsed through our bond. She must have remembered what happened to the last breeder they tried to force on me.
“No.” I’d never let that happen again.
“Then focus on the goddamn mission. Find out where Javier is keeping Dr. Hurran.”
The mention of the army scientist who loved inflicting pain on her subjects made me clench my jaw. Javier could have the sadistic bitch.
“Hunter, are you listening? We need to find out where he is keeping her.”
Why does it matter? Especially now, when the countdown to the end of days had begun.
“Surely, he’s said something about her by now.” Her desperation filtered through our bond.
“No. His conversations are all about deliveries and construction projects.” Disappointing, really. You’d think the leader of the biggest cartel in the northern hemisphere would have more interesting things to discuss. “Not once has he mentioned the scientist.”
Jen cursed. “We’re running out of time. The Colonel is about to pull the plug on this operation.”
My breathing went shallow. I knew what that meant. Humanity was running out of time. My dancer was running out of time.
“So, stop dicking around and find out where he is keeping the scientist.”
“By any means necessary?” Excitement thrummed through me as I waited for Jen to respond. If she let me loose, I’d have the information in less than five minutes. Of course, Javier and his crew wouldn’t survive the interrogation, but that was no great loss.
“You know our orders. Do not approach the target or his enforcers,” she said, sounding as tired of this shit as I was.
Which fuck nut desk jockey made that rule? How was I supposed to get critical intel from the leader of a rogue shifter faction without cracking a few skulls?
“Just get the intel and be back at base by zero four hundred hours.”
“Why?” The strip club didn’t close until four.
“Because I said so.” The frost in Jen’s voice made it clear she didn’t owe me an explanation.
“Ten-four.” I tried for a more agreeable tone. It was never a good idea to piss off the person who could unleash gut-wrenching pain with the click of a button.
There was a long pause, as if she was debating telling me something. “The Colonel ordered Dominic’s release,” she finally said in an unnaturally quiet voice.
Air rushed from my lungs. “What the fuck? He was in for life.” My previous handler deserved to die a miserable death in prison for what he’d done. A blowtorch of fury blew through me. My hands shook as the pain-filled screams of my brothers echoed in my mind. “Dom can’t be released.”
“The Colonel wants all hands on deck,” she said, trying to sound calm. Through our bond, I could feel how rattled she was. For some asinine reason, she loved Dom. Not that the ice-cold bastard was capable of returning the sentiment.
I took a deep steadying breath, trying to keep from exploding. It’s a good thing Dom’s out. He’ll be a lot easier to kill.
“The Colonel wants to pair you two again,” Jen added.
“N-no fucking way,” I sputtered. I couldn’t end Dom’s life if they bound me to him.
“So, you’d prefer to stay with me then?”
I grunted, knowing full well the Colonel could give two shits about my preference. My fate was his to fuck with.
“Then I won’t let them re-pair you,” she said with so much conviction, the tension left my body. Jen had pull with the Colonel and although she and I had only been linked a short time, she was a soldier of her word. Unlike Dom…
Betrayer. Liar. Killer.
“I’ll get the location of the scientist,” I promised. I had to at least do that much for her considering I was going to murder her husband the first chance I got.
“Good. Don’t blow your cover and remember the rules. Don’t touch any humans.”
As she severed our connection, it occurred to me the rules didn’t apply to my dancer.
Because Lee’s not entirely human, is she?
As I considered the potential loophole, the jackass at the table in front of me held up several crumpled bills.
My dancer prowled across the stage toward him. Her hips swayed seductively back and forth, and her jeweled navel ring caught the light and shimmered.
A whine caught in the back of my throat. I liked shiny things. A lot…
Fuck. I had to think of a way to complete the mission and get up close and personal with her… at least long enough to explore this hold she had over me.
Is she the one female that can tame my beast, or will it destroy her like all the others?
2
Lee
Dance music shook the stage as I spun around the pole in my G-string. A few rogue feathers from the wings strapped to my back floated gently to the body glitter-encrusted floor. Following them down, I crawled on my hands and knees over to the middle-aged man waving dollar bills in the air.
The rumpled off-the-rack tweed vest he wore told me he was likely one of the professors from the Southern Arizona University campus down the street.
Disappointing. He wouldn’t have deep pockets like some of my big tippers. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Especially tonight.
Other than the professor, there were only a handful of other patrons in the strip club—Sly, a regular who came for the booze not the boobs, several dark-haired men talking quietly in the back corner, and Uncle Duncan. Since finding out the club bouncers had been laid off, the cowboy-hat-wearing grizzly old vet had come to every one of my shows. My surrogate uncle, always quick to spot trouble, never took his eyes off the dark-haired men deep in conversation.
The men’s menacing vibe made me glad they sat far from the stage. They’d started meeting at Eros a few weeks ago. Max, my boss, was either too desperate for business or too scared to make them leave.
Truth be told, the guys dressed in black with gang tattoos creeping past their collars didn’t rattle me as much as the elegant man sitting in the center of them. Javier Diaz was rumored to run one of the largest drug cartels in the Southwest. His gang, the Calaveras, was renowned for their violence and brutality.
Pity.
Even if he wasn’t wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit, Javier would be one amazing-looking man. He wasn’t as large as some of the men seated around him, but he radiated power. Tonight, his shoulder-length hair was tied back, emphasizing high cheekbones, full lips, and startling amber eyes. Those incredible eyes studied my body as I danced.
I shivered, feeling caught in the stare of a predator. Trying to ignore the striking man, I focused on the professor. Based on the flush in his cheeks, he’d had more than the two-drink minimum.