Body Master (10 page)

“Of course,” he said and slapped Apollo on the back.

S
eneca stood outside Max’s apartment door for a full minute before knocking. As much as she didn’t want to intrude into his personal life . . . Eh, scratch that. She did, but after last night, she was going to be a lot more careful about it. For her own sake, she had decided to stay at least three feet away from Max Dempsey at all times. Except that he was her partner, which complicated things a bit.

She knocked again, harder this time. “Come on, Dempsey. I don’t have all day.”

At that moment, the door swung open and her brain cells kind of all froze at once from the shock of Dempsey with a towel around his hips, held up by one hand. The rest of him was wet and really nicely humanoid. Wide shoulders, deep chest, narrow hips and . . . She suddenly realized that she was working her way down, and he knew it.

“I could have been the Avon lady,” she said, dragging her eyes back to his.

“The Avon lady doesn’t smell anything like you,” he replied, his expression smug.

A fine time for her mouth to go dry. She licked her lips. “Bart gave us a location on Dillinger. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer your cell phone or home phone.”

His eyes never left hers, but his mouth was curving. “Shower.”

“I can see that,” she said, her voice cracking.
Smooth.
“You’re wet.”
Oh, just shut up, Seneca.

Dempsey broke into an all-male smile, and she silently cursed herself. “I brought the van. We need to set up a stakeout. Bring your jammies.”

He didn’t move. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d actually spoken over the pounding of her heart. Finally, he nodded. “Come on in.”

He opened the door for her, and she tried not to look like she was taking in every detail of his place.

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he said as he disappeared through a doorway at one end of the apartment.

She scanned the sparse furnishings. No sign of company, but just in case. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any . . . one,” she called out.

From the other room, he replied, “You didn’t.”

Good. Not that she cared.

She walked around the furnishings and peered through the open doorway where he’d gone. Over the corner of a bed, she caught his reflection in a mirror as he opened his closet. All she could see were bare back, shoulders, and thick biceps before she stopped herself and shook her head.

What was the matter with her? Ever since last night, she’d been on edge. Maybe that little turd Price was right. She needed a date. Just not with him.

She turned her attention to Dempsey’s apartment. A brown sofa, two matching chairs, one lamp, and a coffee table took up most of the living room. A small kitchen occupied the other end and an island formed the dining area. The walls were white and bare. Clean and simple and sterile.

Then she frowned. A little too sterile. No personal touches. No throw pillows or pictures or artwork. It felt . . . temporary. A lot like a hotel room, in fact. She wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge to find milk, bread, and beer.

“Men,” she murmured and closed the door. An unexpected flash of color drew her to a long silver necklace with a brilliant blue stone that hung from a hook over the kitchen sink.

Seneca touched the stone, surprised by its brilliance and light weight. It wasn’t lapis or azurite or any other blue stone she’d ever seen. She rubbed her thumb across the smooth surface and felt the stone give a little under the pressure. Amazing. The chain was a simple design but innately delicate—for a woman. So whose was it and why was it the only decoration in Dempsey’s place?

“Ready?”

She jumped at Dempsey’s sharp tone, nearly knocking the necklace from its hook, and spun around to find him standing directly behind her. She didn’t need any special abilities to sense the irritation that radiated from him. Why? Because she was in his kitchen?

“Don’t your people have a saying about curiosity killing something?” he said, his voice flat.

“Cats,” she replied with a careless wave. “Doesn’t apply to me.”

Dempsey grabbed his coat. “Nothing seems to apply to you, Seneca.”

She winced at the terse response. What button had she just pushed? She gave the necklace a final glance; answers would have to wait for another day. Then she followed him out of the apartment. He locked the door behind them and turned to face her, his face a little too close and his voice a little too polite.

“Let’s go, partner,” he said and cruised past her.

Seneca blew out a breath as she watched him retreat. Great. She’d pissed him off, and she didn’t even know how. Dempsey was more human than she’d imagined. He definitely had issues, and she wasn’t looking forward to the next eight to ten hours trapped in a van with them.

Seneca checked a new message on her phone. “We can move at any time. The prep crew just finished clearing the building residents and most of the neighbors.”

Max scanned the dark, quiet street. They were parked half a block from a three-story building east of Conover Avenue in Red Hook. Dillinger was inside in the third-floor, left- side apartment.

Max asked, “How do they get them out?”

Seneca picked up the night vision binoculars from the van dashboard and pointed them at the apartment building. “Probably told them there was a gas leak. Should keep everyone away for a few hours.”

Max shook his head. What they went through to protect their secrets. “Do you think your government will ever come clean and make this public so we don’t need to sneak around?”

“Not unless they have to.”

“Do you agree with that?”

“No.”

Maybe there was hope for her yet. “How was the funeral?”

“Far away. We aren’t supposed to attend. Violates our security, but—”

“He was your partner.”

“Yes.” She lowered the binoculars to look at him. “You could have attended too.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t need to be there.” He didn’t want to tell her that he was too busy working her out of his system. “You’re sure Dillinger is still in there?”

She nodded, and looked through the binoculars. “All the exits are being watched by other agents. So when our boy’s lights go off, we can get moving.”

“We could move now. He can see in the dark anyway,” Max reminded her.

“Yes, but I always prefer to rouse them from a sound sleep before I shoot them.”

“You aren’t like most women, Seneca,” Max said, laughing despite himself.

She smiled under the binoculars. “And don’t forget it.”

Like he could if he wanted. Max adjusted his position in the driver’s seat for the fifteenth time in the past six hours. Despite the hard workout, he still had a lot of pent-up energy. Sitting next to Seneca wasn’t helping the situation. Seeing her with Ell’s necklace . . . He was surprised by how fast he’d reacted. He had to learn to control himself, or Seneca was going to suspect he wasn’t really here for the good of mankind.

And to that end, he turned his concentration to capturing a bad Shifter—his first chance to prove to Seneca and the rest of XCEL that he was worth something. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, he’d decided the only way he could gain their trust was to prove his value and dedication. Right up until he didn’t need XCEL anymore.

The building schematics had been e-mailed to them, and Max paged through the notes on his phone. The building had six units, one set of stairs inside, with a fire escape down the back. A narrow alley lined the left side of the building, and it butted up to another apartment on the right side. No basement. No roof access from the inside. All the floors and apartments had identical layouts.

“No movement inside Dillinger’s apartment, but I can see the flicker of the TV against the walls.” Seneca lowered the binoculars and rolled her neck. “I hope this doesn’t take long. I hate taking down a Shifter when I’m tired.”

He glanced at her. She didn’t look tired. Her hair was long and loose over the full-body black armor suit she wore. It hugged every curve like it was custom-made for her body alone. He wondered who got the lucky fitting job.

He shifted again and said, “By the way, I flashed his photo across most of lower Manhattan last night after you left. No one recognized him.”

Seneca pursed her lips. “I covered the east side. Nothing.”

Max stared at her. “You know, this whole partner thing would be a lot more productive if we actually worked together.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Hey, I thought you had the night off.”

“And I thought you were going back to the office,” he said.

Seneca shook her head, her silky hair shimmering. “This is never going to work.”

She sounded serious, and that worried him. He needed XCEL and her to find Ell’s killer. “I think we need to do some trust-building exercises,” he suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “If you think I’m going to fall backward and let you catch me, forget it.”

He had a better idea. “Ask me a question.”

Seneca stared at him. “Any question?”

“Anything, and I’ll answer it truthfully.”

She licked her lips, which was a gesture she had that he was really starting to like.

“Who did the necklace belong to?” she asked.

Any question but that one
. However, he couldn’t back down. He was trying to build trust here. He took a deep breath and stared out the window. “My wife.”

“Wife?” Seneca sounded like she was choking.

“She was killed,” he added. “When we crashed.” That part was a lie, but Seneca would never know.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The sincerity of her expression surprised him once again. “Did you have any children together?”

“No. She was a native, not a Shifter,” he replied. “They weren’t a compatible species.”

“She wasn’t from your home planet?” Seneca asked.

He gave a short laugh. “We haven’t had a home planet in three hundred years. Even if we did, there aren’t enough of us left to save the race.”

“That’s a shame. For all of you.” She held his gaze for a few moments and then lifted the binoculars once more.

Max leaned back in his seat and stared at her. Sometimes, he couldn’t figure her out at all. Was that sympathy? Couldn’t have been. Not from Seneca. She could never, would never understand what it meant to have no home. No safe place. Plus she killed Shifters for a living. That said it all.

“Lights out,” Seneca announced suddenly and tossed the binoculars on the dashboard. She grinned at Max. “Ready or not, here we come.”

T
hey worked silently in the back of the van, checking and double-checking gear. Dempsey seemed to know what he was doing, which made Seneca feel slightly better. But first time out with a new partner was always a crapshoot, and who knew how Dempsey was going to react?

“I’m ready,” he told her.

She looked at his short-sleeved T-shirt, pants, and shoes. Okay, she knew he didn’t need armor or night vision or the plethora of weapons like she did, but still. “What happens to those clothes if you shift?”

He pulled on the communications headgear. It was for her benefit, not his. Shifters could literally hear a pin drop. “All organic materials. I can integrate them.”

“Good to know,” she said, momentarily distracted by how that miracle could happen. She scanned his height and breadth. He was a big man, and there was a lot of material to integrate. So, where did it go? Inside, or did the molecules get absorbed and reused? And then—

She realized he was watching her study his body.

“I can see the wheels turning,” he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. “Please, I’ve seen plenty of naked Shifters. However, clothing doesn’t seem to fare particularly well in the transformation.”

“No such problem here.” Then he leaned toward her as he shoved his Glock in the small of his back. “Were you worried?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You all look the same to me.”

He smiled like he knew better. Then he grabbed the disrupter pistol and jumped out the back van doors. “I’m lead.”

The hell,
she thought as she followed him. “You do realize that I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t hold my own.”

“I know,” he said and shut the doors behind her. “But this way, if it all goes to hell, you can blame it on me.”

Now he was confusing her. What happened to the whole Shifter prototype agent initiative? On the other hand, why was she arguing about it? “Have it your way.”

They hiked it to the building, down the side alley, and toward the rear entrance. The prep crew had made sure they’d get inside with no problems. It was always nice when Seneca had the time to plan and do things right. Prep crew cleared the way. Backup and cleanup crews were at the ready. They used the best equipment known to man. All this for one shapeshifter. If the taxpayers only knew where their money was going.