Finding the Texas Wolf Page 2

  He wasn’t sure he could breathe, never mind stand, but somehow, he managed to push himself to his feet. This woman had been here before. He’d watched the alley for weeks, and she’d visited at least twice. Maybe three times. Since he could only watch the entrance to the alley, he assumed she’d gotten the door to open for her. Because she’d gone into the alley and hadn’t come out for hours.

  He’d observed all kinds of people heading into that dead-end alley. From suit-wearing business types, to hipsters, to the grunge-slash-metal crowd. They never came out immediately. Whatever they were doing in there, behind that mysterious door, had to be interesting.

  The wondering consumed him. Every single journalistic instinct he possessed kicked into overdrive. Whatever went on behind that door had to be a story. A big story. Not just mildly interesting.

  Because one night when he’d been staked out watching the alley, he’d seen a man emerge, unsteady on his feet, clearly inebriated. The guy had walked to where the alley met the street, looked left and right and, right there on Jake’s cell phone video, began to shimmer. His form had wavered, too, changing from human to something definitely wolf-like, before going back to human once more. Then, the man shook his head, adjusted his clothing and walked away.

  Not believing his own eyes, Jake had watched the video several times. He’d uploaded it to the cloud, knowing he couldn’t take a chance of losing it, though he kept the copy on his phone.

  This, if he could prove it, would be the story of the century. Because based on what he’d witnessed, he just might be able to prove to the world that werewolves truly existed.

  If he could manage to live through this investigation, that is.

  A groan slipped from his lips as he attempted to take a step after standing. She came to him then, using her slender shoulder to brace him, uncaring of the fact that his blood would stain her pretty dress. As she helped him move toward the street, she muttered under her breath.

  “Did you just say ‘Damn humans’?” he asked, careful to hide his excitement.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice cross. “If I can get you to the sidewalk, we can call for an ambulance.”

  “No ambulance,” he insisted.

  “We need to get you to the hospital. How else do you propose we do so?”

  “My car is parked over there,” he told her, pointing with an unsteady hand. “The keys are in my pocket.” Somehow, he managed to dig them out. “Here. You can drive.”

  Though his pain level had been off the charts, Jake had known he’d have to ditch the redhead. Though he wasn’t sure why exactly, he knew the reason would reveal itself soon enough. He’d learned to always trust his gut instincts. Always.

  She’d been kind. Interested, even. And beautiful, the kind of beauty that once would have sent men off to war. While her beauty lured him, he didn’t trust her. She knew things he didn’t. Since she’d done everything in her power to hustle him away from the dead-end alley, she had no intention of sharing any of her knowledge with him.

  He’d seen her go in the door. That damn door. What had started out as idle curiosity had become a full-blown obsession. So much so that he’d put his own life in danger.

  The salt-scented, humid breeze made the cuts on his face sting. He thought he could make it back to his car, but he’d begun to second guess the instinct that had made him flee the hospital. While the woman—Maddie Kinslow—had put on an outward show of compassion, she was part of whatever secret lay behind that door. Call him overly paranoid, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been sent to finish the job the two thugs had started. He wasn’t prepared to risk finding out.

  Still, she’d been right about one thing. He needed medical attention. He suspected he had, at the very least, a couple of broken ribs. If not broken, then bruised.

  An older black Lincoln pulled up alongside him. “Hey, man,” a familiar voice said. “You need a ride?”

  Wayne. One of the guys he played basketball with every Saturday. Jake had never been so glad to see someone in his life. “I do,” he said, lifting his hand in greeting.

  “Climb on in.”

  Jake did. When Wayne got a good look at his face, he whistled, low and furious. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I got jumped over by Harborside.”

  “By the cruise ship parking lots?” Wayne wanted to know.

  “Yeah, sort of.”

  “What were you doing over there?”

  Since his friend knew exactly what Jake did for a living, he told the truth. “Following a lead. I got a little too close for someone’s comfort.”

  “Let’s go to the hospital,” Wayne suggested.

  Since Jake felt dizzy, like he might pass out again, he agreed.

  This time, he made it inside the ER under his own power. Though Wayne had offered to stay, Jake told him no.

  Three and a half hours later, Jake learned his ribs were bruised, not broken. By some miracle, his most serious—and painful—injury was a dislocated shoulder. They gave him some muscle relaxers and a shot of something, and the doctor manually worked it back into place. When he did, it hurt like hell. Perspiring, trying not to swear, Jake managed to stay conscious.

  When they were finally done and the doctor came to discharge him with a prescription for more pain pills and some antibiotics, he asked Jake if he had someone to drive him home.

  “No. But my car is only a couple blocks away,” Jake said, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

  “You can’t drive,” the doc said firmly. “You need to call someone to come and pick you up. We gave you some strong narcotics. No driving for at least twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ll find someone.” He dug out his phone. Maybe he could talk Wayne into coming back and picking him up.

  “No need,” a cool, feminine voice said from the doorway. “I’ll take you home.”

  The redhead. Maddie Kinslow.

  “Perfect,” the doctor said, smiling. “Take him straight home, make sure and fill these prescriptions, and force him to get plenty of rest.”

  “I sure will.” Now she sounded positively cheerful. He turned to stare at her, wondering how she’d known to come back here looking for him.

  “I’ll send a nurse to wheel you out to the car,” the doc continued. “Hospital regulations,” he added when Jake began to protest.

  Jack nodded. He waited until the doctor had left the room before confronting Maddie. “Are you stalking me?”

  “No.” She frowned, looking both hurt and angry. “I will say I was concerned, especially when you took off like you were afraid to go into the ER. Why was that? I wondered. Do you have a warrant out for your arrest?”

  “No. And no. As you can see, I haven’t been arrested. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “I’m a PI,” she retorted. “It’s part of my line of work.”

  “A private investigator?” At first surprised, the more he considered, the better he felt. Ms. Maddie Kinslow might not realize it, but she’d just given him an idea.

  She started to respond, and then closed her mouth. Lips a tight line, she looked away. Whatever she wasn’t telling him, she clearly had no intention of saying anything else about her work. Which was okay with him. She’d said enough.

  Luckily for her, a cheerful nurse arrived with a wheelchair. She ordered Maddie to get her car and pull up right outside the entrance. Once Maddie had left to do that, the nurse wheeled him out front to wait for her.

  When Maddie had parked, the nurse helped Jack out of the wheelchair and into the passenger side. He was able to buckle the seat belt, wincing.

  “Are you all good?” she asked, her candid gaze searching his face.

  “Yep. Better than good,” he replied. “I’m actually really glad to learn you’re a private investigator. As it turns out, I want to hire you.”

  Judging by her sudden intake in breath, he’d shocked her. “Um, my agency is specialized. We wouldn’t be a good fit.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, we would,” he insisted. “Plus, you’re the only PI I know. I’ll pay whatever your going rate is. And I promise, you’ll find my job to be a simple one, easily completed.”

  She shifted into Drive and pulled away from the hospital.

  “Well?” he pressed once she’d exited the parking lot. “What do you say?”

  “I’m thinking. Give me a minute.”

  He gave her more than a minute. She followed his directions, pulling in to the driveway of his small home on San Jacinto. Once she’d put the car in Park, she turned in her seat to face him.

  “What’s the job?” she asked, her expression professional. “I really can’t commit my resources until I know what is involved.”

  And here came the part she wouldn’t like. He told her anyway. “I want to hire you to find out what’s behind that door on the dead-end alleyway. The one where you found me all beat-up.”

  Chapter 2

  Inside Broken Chains, Carmen Vargas sat back in her chair, took a sip of her drink and surveyed the smoky room. As always, every table had been taken, and those without a seat stood shoulder to shoulder. Carmen had arrived early and claimed her usual prime spot near the back, close enough to have a view of the dance floor, but not so close that the loudness of the band would make any attempt at conversation impossible.

  Her friends Maddie Kinslow and Shayla Dover-Cantrell usually met her here, but Shayla had recently gotten married and was just getting back from her honeymoon. The three of them had formed a supernatural private investigative agency and had recently successfully closed their first case. Carmen imagined Maddie had already gotten busy hustling for a second. Still, she was very late. Not like her. Carmen figured she’d give her a little bit longer before calling her friend’s cell phone.

  “Have you got a minute?” The low growl of a masculine voice to her left had her betting he’d be a Shape-shifter. With a lazy movement, she swiveled her head to look. Damn. She, who never was shocked, sucked in her breath. Talk about hot. This guy had to be new. His aura revealed she was correct. Shape-shifter. And a damn good-looking specimen, too.

  Exactly her type, if she’d had one. Tall, close-cropped dark hair, bright blue eyes, broad shoulders, narrow waist and muscular arms. He looked like a cop, or some other straight-laced profession. She’d learned from experience that those kinds of men were almost always the most fun in bed.

  She let herself experience a delighted shiver before responding.

  “Of course,” she purred, indicating the chair next to her. “Have a seat.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat down, his bold stare frank and assessing. Confidence. She liked that in a man.

  This evening had just gotten a thousand times more interesting. After so many centuries on the planet, Carmen rarely felt an overwhelming attraction like this.

  “I work for the government,” he said. No surprise there. “And I’ve been talking to the Pack Protectors. They let me know about your Shadow Agency, operating right here in Galveston.”

  A job. He wanted to discuss a job with her. Years of practice enabled her to hide her disappointment. She simply eyed him calmly while waiting for him to elaborate.

  Instead, he glanced around. “Is there somewhere quieter we can talk? This is classified, so not information I’m comfortable shouting.”

  She took a moment to consider, enjoying the way his gaze traveled over her. “Maybe later,” she finally said. “I’m waiting for a friend and I don’t want to lose our seat.”

  His gaze narrowed and his mouth tightened. “This is a matter of national security.”

  Though intrigued, she pretended not to hear him at first. Only when he leaned close, his mouth against her ear, and repeated himself, did she nod. “Perhaps you should make an appointment with our office. I’m certain you don’t want to discuss such a weighty matter in a bar.”

  Instead of putting him in his place as she expected, a flash of annoyance sparked in his eyes. “This is urgent. I don’t have time to make an appointment. If you don’t want the job, just say so. I’m sure I can find someone else.”

  Rueful, she conceded. “Wait. I’m interested. If you could just give me a few minutes until my friend arrives, I’ll find a quieter place where the two of us can talk.”

  “Five minutes,” he said. “No longer.”

  Clearly, he was the kind of man used to giving orders. She found this incredibly arousing. Most men were too intimidated by her frank and blatant sensuality. They tended to fall all over themselves trying to please her.

  “Five minutes,” she agreed, smiling. Maddie had a tendency to run late, but never extremely so.

  The allotted time passed. Still no Maddie. Handsome Guy eyed her and she knew he meant to leave.

  “Come on,” she said, getting to her feet. “They have private rooms in the back. Let me see if I can secure one and we’ll go there and talk.”

  He followed as she strolled to the bar. One glance over her shoulder showed no less than six people had rushed the table the instant she’d left. They’d have to duke it out among themselves over who ended up with it. Or share.

  As luck would have it, she was able to rent a small room for half an hour. She sent Maddie a quick text to let her know where to go once she arrived, and then led the way through the double doors to the private part of the bar. She’d heard stories about some of the goings-on in these private rooms.

  Stopping at room number 7, she used her key to unlock the door. “Here we are,” she said, entering. Handsome Secret Agent Man brushed past her and began looking around. As in, seriously searching for something. Fascinated, she watched, realizing he must be checking the room for recording devices.

  When he finally finished, he turned to face her. “I’ll need your cell phone,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” she replied. “I’m not handing that over to a total stranger, just because he’s cute.”

  Her choice of adjectives made him blink, but that was his only reaction. Disappointed, she pulled out a chair and sat. “You were about to tell me why you needed to hire me?”

  “Not until I know for certain that you’re not recording,” he countered, stoned-faced. “At least put your phone on the table.”

  “Are you serious?” she asked, even though she knew he was. With a sigh, she retrieved her phone from the depths of her Prada bag and placed it on the table.

  “May I?” he asked, as he reached for it.

  “You can look at it,” she replied. “But I want it back on the table once you’re done.” Though she had no idea what she’d do if he decided to drop it into his pocket. By virtue of being a Vampire, she had the elements of superspeed and strength on her side, but he was some kind of Shape-shifter, which made him a much more even match than, say, a human would have been.

  Finally, he finished checking out her phone and placed it back on the table.

  “My name is Rick Fallin,” he said. “I’m a member of a covert intelligence agency within the FBI. Our country is being threatened by terrorists and we need the help of someone with your credentials.”

  “My credentials?”

  “Yes. You are one of the top biowarfare scientists.”

  She nodded. “True. But you could have approached me at the lab. Why here? Why ask for help from The Shadow Agency?”

  “Because we need you for one other reason. You’re a Vampire. And as such, you’d be immune to a deadly, human-created virus.”

  “You’re a Shape-shifter,” she shot back. “And if you’re full-blooded, you’re also immune.”

  “We’re not sure about that,” he replied. “Let me explain. This is a completely new virus. We’re not completely sure of the effects it will have on the paranormal population.”

  “Now I’m really intrigued,” she drawled. “I can’t wait to get a look at this thing.”

  * * *

  Though several of his colleagues had warned him that he’d take an immediate dislike to the Vampire woman, Rick
Fallin discovered they were all wrong. Instead of the usual revulsion his kind normally felt around those of her ilk, he got a jolt of attraction every time he looked at Carmen Vargas instead. Which he struggled mightily to do as seldom as possible, aware he needed to focus on the job and only the job. This was far too important to mess up.

  “A terrorist group has developed a new disease,” he said, once he had her full attention. “Not a known group, either. They call themselves Sons of Darkness. This one appears to be newly formed. We’re not even sure what kind of ideology they possess.”

  “Sons of Darkness,” she mused, a flash of interest in her eyes. “Sounds like possible Satanists. Do you have proof of this disease?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if you heard about that junior senator who died so mysteriously a couple days ago?”

  “I rarely watch the news anymore.” She gave a delicate shrug. “Unless it pertains to my work or my friends, I’m content to keep my world knowledge as compact as possible.”

  Made sense. While he had no idea of her actual age, he’d always heard Vampires lived centuries. He imagined anyone would get a bit jaded after watching so many humans come and go.

  “Let me fill you in then. Samuel Jansson was infected with this virus. We’re not sure how or when, but most likely it was in a bar on the hill where he frequently stopped for a drink after work. He died a horrible death at home in his bed less than twelve hours later.”

  She whistled. “That’s a fast-acting virus. But how do you know that’s what killed him?”

  “The terrorist group contacted us shortly before his body was discovered. But even then, we had the same doubts. We rushed an autopsy.”

  “And?”

  “What killed him was a virus never before seen. We have no antidote.”

  Another flash of interest lit up her face. “What do they want in exchange? I’m assuming it must be something big, right?”

  “Oh, it is. It is.” He’d been instructed not to tell her if at all possible, to gain her assistance without doing so. Once he’d completed a full read-through of her dossier, he’d wondered what his boss had been thinking. A rational, intelligent, professional scientist like Carmen Vargas would want to know everything. If they needed the best, they’d have to give her 100 percent of the info.