Body Master (13 page)

MacGregor closed the folder. “He’s also underground, which means it’ll be harder than hell to provide you with backup.” He spared Max a quick glance. “Especially now.”

“We don’t need backup,” Seneca said. “We can handle it.”

MacGregor pointed a pudgy finger at each of them in turn. “No Skinman. And that’s a direct order. Not until I figure out where our leak is. This could be serious. The Committee will have my ass in a sling if their plan is put in jeopardy. And until further notice, you are both taking some well-deserved time off.”

Seneca was on her feet in an instant. “What?”

“I realize that a life outside this agency is a foreign concept to you,” MacGregor said as he settled back in his chair. “But you will take it, and you will not come into this office until I give you the all clear. Is that understood?”

Max eyed Seneca as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Yes.”

“I’m so glad we had this little talk,” MacGregor said. “And don’t leave town. I still need you. You two are the best agents I have. You don’t come back, you leave me with the likes of Conklin.”

“I’d like to know why everyone thinks we’re screwing,” Seneca muttered as she shut their office door after Dempsey.

“Interesting, that,” he said.

And disturbing. Was it something she’d done? Or the simple fact that they were a male-female team? Maybe she’d put a stop to it by hitting Conklin. Her hand still hurt, but it was well worth it. He’d be okay and now everyone would drop the whole screwing thing.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, Dempsey as a Shifter in their midst was a bigger issue. She’d been surprised at Dempsey’s restraint, which was obviously better than hers. Then again, she’d known that. He had to have supreme self-control in order to work here and with her. It wasn’t like she’d made it easy for him.

But now she had “time off ” to think about it. She hadn’t taken more than one day off at a time since joining the agency. What was she supposed to do with more than that? Get a mani-pedi? She pulled out her briefcase with a huff of disgust and started loading case files into it. Might as well do some homework while she was exiled to normal life.

Dempsey sat in the chair across from her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that the Skinman file?”

She looked at him. He wore a pale, faded chambray shirt under a brown leather jacket and nicely fitted jeans. Dark eyes gazed back at her, the edges crinkled in amusement. A sexy smile tugged at his lips. It suddenly occurred to her why everyone thought she was sleeping with him.

“Of course not. That would be going against a direct order,” she said and slid the Skinman file into the case.

“That’s true,” he said with a nod. “Plus it’d be unwise to go after a man like that without XCEL support. Especially since you are essentially one of us now.”

That stopped her midpack as she recalled the looks of betrayal she’d gotten from the other agents. MacGregor could yell all he wanted, but he couldn’t make that prejudice go away. He couldn’t force them to change their mind-set. She was no longer one of them. She was an outcast, just like Dempsey.

“They’ll come around,” she said with a shrug.

“No, they won’t,” Dempsey said. After a few beats, he added, “I’m sorry.”

She closed the latch on her briefcase. “I don’t need anyone to save me, Dempsey.”

“What about dinner? Do you need that?” he asked smoothly.

Her pulse jumped. “A date? That’s not going to help my rep.”

Dempsey said, “I have to eat too. And I have wine.”

She hesitated. Food and wine sounded
very
good. Still . . .

“And maybe we can discuss how we plan to spend our time off.” He stood up and walked to her, reaching for her briefcase. “I’ll carry that out for you.”

She eyed him. “You realize this contains incriminating evidence that could get you fired.”

“I know.” His expression was serious. “I don’t expect any problems.”

She gave him a little smile as she passed over the briefcase.

Max smelled the intruders before he reached his apartment door. Talk about a rotten way to ruin an otherwise promising evening.

He held a hand up to Seneca behind him and drew his gun. Silently, she placed the bag of groceries and briefcase on the floor and pulled out her weapon. He moved along the wall to the open door and noticed the busted lock. No movement inside. No sounds.

He turned and mouthed, “Wait here,” to Seneca. She looked at him like he was crazy and shook her head.

He mouthed, “Shifters.”

She mouthed back, “So?”

Christ, the woman was relentless. Giving up, he shouldered the door open and stepped inside, gun first. The kitchen light was on, and it took only a moment to confirm that the place was empty.

And trashed.

Couch and chair stuffing were strewn across the floor along with pieces of lamps and other furnishings. His laptop was in pieces along the wall. The television had an end table leg rammed through it. The kitchen cabinet doors were ripped off, the contents tossed out, and the countertop damaged. He entered his bedroom. Clothes and bedding lay in heaps. The mattress had been ripped to shreds. The bathroom sink was cracked, and water squirted from the busted showerhead.

And every room had the word “traitor” spray painted on the walls.

“It’s clear,” he said as he joined Seneca in the main room.

Seneca holstered her gun and took in the destruction. “Must have been a hell of a party. You think it was Shifters?”

He walked over to the kitchen and noticed Ell’s necklace lying in the sink. He picked it up and slid it into his jeans pocket. “Positive.”

“Seems quite a coincidence that you were just outed at work today too,” she said.

Yes, it did. Someone knew he was a Shifter working for XCEL. He mentally cataloged the three individual Shifter scents that covered his apartment. Then he turned and moved quickly through the wreckage into his bedroom. The closet door hung on by one hinge and his clothes had been flung from their hangers. He reached under the clothes and found the duffle bag. Seneca had followed him into the bedroom and stood behind him. Carefully, he slid his hand into the false bottom of the duffle. The package was still there. He breathed a sigh of relief and sealed the false bottom. Then he pulled the duffle out and set it on the bed. It was going with him this time.

Seneca said, “You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

No kidding.
He stood up to face her and promptly froze in his tracks. It was dark in his bedroom—she couldn’t see him very well but his vision was perfect, and there was something different in the way she looked at him. Ever since last night, she’d become more approachable, like the Do Not Touch sign had been turned off. As precarious as that felt, it sent a charge through his body that dominated the destruction and the betrayal around him.

“I’ll get a hotel room. Just need to pack some clothes.”

At least that was what he’d planned to do, but at the moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off hers. They were beautiful and clear, without condemnation, without judgment. Almost, with kindness. He hadn’t seen that look in so long.

“Doesn’t this bother you?” she asked quietly.

“They were just things.”

“What about the invasion of privacy?”

Her hair looked silky in the dark, her skin smooth, her voice sexy. His thoughts were heading way out of line. “Nothing I can do about it. However, if they know about me, they might know about you.”

She raised her chin in challenge, but her voice softened. “I doubt it. I’m not a traitor to them.”

Traitor. They had called
him
a traitor. It was poetic perhaps, but not in a good way. He stepped up to Seneca until he was close enough that she filled his vision. Close enough that her scent overwhelmed the smell of intruders.

“This could prove dangerous to you,” he whispered.

She smiled darkly. “I live for danger.”

He moved closer to her warmth, despite all the reasons why he shouldn’t. “I’m as dangerous as it gets, Seneca. Make no mistake.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her breath quickening. He was close enough that she could see him now, in the darkness. He watched her lips part a little, an invitation she didn’t even realize she was giving him. Heat poured over him, blood pounded in his veins, desire unfurled in his belly. Just one touch . . .

“Max, you in here?”

The stranger’s shout jolted Seneca to the core and drained the heat that had been building in her bones. She pulled her gun, only to feel Dempsey’s hand on hers. He whispered, “He’s a friend.”

And then his heat was gone as he headed to meet whoever it was. An odd disappointment lingered in his wake. What was wrong with her? She didn’t act like this with
human
men.

And he was an alien, for God’s sake. She should be running for her life. His race was probably used to cavorting with other aliens, but this was all new to her. Unfortunately, her libido didn’t seem to care what he was. In human form, he was all male, all sexy, and all her signals were flashing go.

“I need a date.” She holstered the gun before walking into the living room.

Dempsey was talking to a Shifter in human form—tall, blond, handsome, and built like a Mack truck. His eyebrows rose when he laid eyes on her. She sensed an easy camaraderie between the two men, a past. An old friend.

Dempsey motioned to her. “Apollo, meet Seneca. My partner.”

Apollo gave her a devastating smile as she shook his hand. “Nice to finally meet. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Seneca said, “Really?” Then she looked at Dempsey, who was glaring at his friend. “What have you heard?”

Apollo grinned. “Let’s just say, it’s all true.” Then he turned to Dempsey. “I was gone all day, didn’t see or hear a thing.”

“Probably just as well you weren’t here,” Dempsey said, his tone dry.

Seneca watched him pick up a shredded pillow and toss it aside. How could this
not
bother him? He treated it like any other day. Maybe it was. Maybe they were all this bad. A pang of compassion came and went. She really had to stop doing that. It was no way for a Shifter hunter to act.

“Were they after something or did they just want to leave you a message?” Apollo asked. “My guess would be traitor.”

The brief look that passed between them mystified Seneca. What was that about?

“I’d ask you to bunk with me, but I like my place. Just the way it is,” Apollo said. “No offense.”

Dempsey half smiled. “None taken. I’ll stay at a hotel. I want to keep this quiet for a while.”

Apollo nodded. “I can see why. You may not be getting your deposit back. Call me later.”

Then he turned to her, lifted her hand, and kissed it. “Very nice meeting you, Seneca. I hope to see you again.”

“Good-bye, Apollo,” Dempsey said.

Apollo winked at her. He left, forcing the busted door closed behind him.

Dempsey headed back to the dark bedroom. Seneca opted to stay put in the living room. It was a little too warm in his bedroom. She licked her dry lips. “So, does
he
think we’re screwing too?”

“No,” came the reply from the other room.

Quick response. “Why not?”

“He didn’t smell you on me. We aren’t lovers.”

Well, how about that? The only people who knew they weren’t sleeping together were the Shifters. That just wasn’t fair.

Her cell phone rang. It was Bart. She answered, “Thomas here.”

“I got you a location,” Bart said.

“Thirty minutes, the Central Park meeting place?” she asked as Dempsey stepped out of his bedroom with a duffle bag.

“Got it,” and he hung up.

She said to Dempsey, “Bart has Skinman’s location.”

“Good. I have a plan to get close to him.”

She pocketed the cell phone. “Am I included in this plan?”