Authors: Nancy Gideon
And then that damned buzzer called. Once, long and forceful. Again, in three short, urgent blasts.
Susanna was struggling to sit up, hands leaving their appreciation of his body to wrestle the T-shirt down. She twisted out from under the claim of his palm to settle her feet on the floor.
“You’d better get that,” she said breathlessly and scooted from the couch to the sanctuary of the bedroom while he dropped back against the cushions with a groan.
Cursing with every awkward step around an erection
that felt like he’d tucked his Louisville Slugger down the front of his pants, Jacques crossed to the door. He punched the intercom and Philo Tibideaux’s face peered up at him from the small closed-circuit screen that Max had installed in his apartment.
“Yeah?” he growled with a menace that would have scared most away.
But Philo looked deadly serious as he urged, “Buzz me up, Jackie.”
Muttering another dark oath, he did so. Glancing down the hall toward the bedroom. The night was still young and she hadn’t closed the door to the room or on his intentions.
Jacques was taking a long swallow of his beer and extended an opened bottle to his friend as he slipped into the apartment. Something about Philo’s tense mood overcame Jacques’s irritation.
“What’s going on, Tib?”
He took a deep pull at the bottle before answering. In that time, his gaze did a quick sweep, noting the half-eaten meal, his boss’s rumpled appearance, and the distinct odor of female.
“Bad timing?”
“Coulda been a helluva lot worse,” Jacques grumbled. He gestured to the bucket Philo was eyeballing. “Help yourself.”
Philo tore into a piece of the now cold chicken and munched thoughtfully before gesturing to the hall with the stripped bone. “Is she here?”
“Yes.”
“She make any calls?”
“Not that I know of. What’s this about? More conspiracy theory bullshit?” When Tibideaux didn’t answer, his tone grew more impatient. “She’s not spying on us. She’s a doctor, not Mata Hari.”
“Who?”
Jacques grabbed the phone from Susanna’s purse and cued up her call history, breath held until he verified that none had been made while he was getting their things out of the trailer. More confident with that information, he faced his friend to warn, “Leave her alone, Philo. I’m not going to let you make her part of your witch hunt.”
Philo met his stare angrily. “I’ve had over a dozen reports from my Patrol since this afternoon of strangers asking questions and being real aggressive about it. That’s not
my
imagination. That’s
real
trouble here in our city. If they’re hunting, and it’s not her they’re looking for, I’m pretty damned sure who they’re after.”
Max Savoie.
“What are we supposed to do, Jackie, wait until they come knocking closer to home? Wait until they get rough?”
“Like you did with Susanna?” He hadn’t believed her tall tale about injuring herself by accident while in their company. One of Philo’s goons had struck her purposefully and he was still mad as hell about it.
“She’s one of them, Jacques. Morris told me she was in his head, messing with his mind, getting him to do stuff against his will. That’s one of their favorite
tricks. Is that the kind of hoodoo she’s been working on you? Open your eyes. Just because you’re bedding the bitch—”
Jacques fisted his shirtfront, yanking the lighter man up onto his toes so they were eye-to-eye as he snarled, “Watch your mouth.”
Philo knocked his hand aside and jumped back. “Watch your step. You can’t see over your dick. She’s leading them right to us. You’re gonna be serving them drinks while they’re tearing the hearts outta every one a your friends. You gonna have Savoie bury all of us in his backyard? That’s what it’s gonna come down to if you doan listen to me. Listen to me!”
“All I’m hearing is crazy talk,” Jacques argued, fighting against his own worry that perhaps his friend was right. “You’re as bad as they are with your ‘Kill ’em all and ask questions later’ macho crap. Our enemy is right
here
. It’s the fear you’re shoveling with both hands. What are you protecting? Your right to feel important?”
He knew he’d gone too far when Philo went still and simply stared at him through agate-hard eyes. Jacques palmed the top of his head in agitation, breathing too fast for logic to take hold.
“You think that’s what all this is about?” Tibideaux finally asked with a deadly quiet. “You think this is about me wanting to be a big man? About me being jealous of Savoie? Well, maybe that’s part of it. But you’re forgetting the bigger part. You’re forgetting what they did to Tito.
“I wish that coulda all been in my imagination. They killed my brother, Jackie. They beat the shit outta him, blew his brain apart, and threw him in the river like garbage. What part of wanting to keep them from doing that to
you
is about my ego?”
Jacques pulled his friend into a fierce one-armed embrace, hugging hard. The two brothers had taken him in like family, given him a place to live, work to do, a way to rebuild from nothing. Everything he’d made of himself he owed to them and their unconditional friendship. Everything.
So when Philo pushed away and confronted him with a somber expression and an even darker question, he didn’t flinch.
“Where are your loyalties, Jacques? With Savoie and his human intrigues that are about to expose us? With this Chosen sympathizer who’s wound her way around your ability to think straight? Or with your own kind, who’ve stood behind you and up for you for no reason other than you’re one of us?” He gestured about the elegant apartment. “Doan let all this dazzle you into forgetting who you are. Doan let her confuse you into forgetting
what
you are.”
With that challenge, Philo struck at the root of all Jacques’s troubles. He didn’t know those things. Not who he’d been or what he’d done before opening his eyes to stare up at a drizzly Louisiana sky.
Philo placed his hand on Jacques’s shoulder and pressed hard. “All we got is each other now. We gotta stand together. Doan let Savoie with all his cash and
big promises change that, or that pretty little piece of tail in there convince you that she’s not your enemy. It’s up to us to protect what’s ours. You know that, doan you? You know I’m right.”
And while he couldn’t agree completely, in all good conscience, Jacques couldn’t tell him to go to hell.
Philo clasped the back of his neck to give him a firm shake and to caution once more, “Keep your eyes open and remember who your friends are.”
He was remembering after Philo left him with a promise to keep him posted. Remembering who and what was important.
Savoie hadn’t bought him with extravagant gifts. Philo was wrong about that. Max had won him over with hope, with promises of freedom and pride in himself and for his race.
Susanna hadn’t seduced him with sex. His friend was wrong about that, too. She’d intrigued him with her courage and honor. Simple sex didn’t come close to describing the sensual hold she had over him.
But she
was
Chosen. How could he feel that compelling urge to mate with one outside his own kind? Because it had happened once before with a female he couldn’t remember, under circumstances he couldn’t recall? Or because she was manipulating his thoughts to make it seem so?
He glanced at the door that was now closed between them. She’d heard their conversation. He didn’t check the knob. It didn’t have to be locked to
keep him out. Not while doubts swirled about his head the way the scent of her still did, confusing him, misleading him.
He took another beer from the refrigerator and carried it out onto the balcony where the breeze blew cool and heavy off the river far below.
Was he wrong to want to follow dreams no matter how impossible they might seem? If he listened to Philo and struggled to hold on to the way things had always been, he’d never risk extending his hand in hopes of grasping something better.
“Do you believe him?”
He hadn’t heard her come outside. Now, Jacques was aware of nothing else as Susanna leaned on the rail beside him. The fragrance of her caressed his senses, making him slow to answer, which in turn aggravated her into a premature conclusion.
“So you think I’m some sort of witch here to trick you into revealing your secrets?”
Very quietly, he asked, “Are you?”
Her tone snapped with annoyance. “What could you possibly have in your head that’s worth stealing?”
Susanna regretted it the moment she said it. Jacques didn’t move for a long, suspenseful moment, making her wonder if she’d unforgivably wounded him. Then she heard the warm rumble of his laugh as it worked its way up and out. He grinned wide out at the night, his broad shoulders relaxing as if shrugging free of some terrible weight.
“Not much,” he admitted. “It’s more like a comic book rack than the Library of Congress. Lots of pictures, few words.”
She smiled up at him. “But some pictures tell a better story.”
“My story starts in the middle. No ‘Here’s what you missed on last week’s show’ to bring you up to speed.”
“Your friend Philo told me how they found you. You don’t remember anything?”
“Maybe it’s for the best. Kinda like getting a second chance. I’m guessing whatever I did for them up north wasn’t anything I’d want to take up again. Can’t imagine that I left anything to be proud of behind.”
Susanna said nothing. Her silence pulled his attention back to her.
His big hand stroked over her hair, then settled on her shoulder, drawing her gently against his side as he murmured, “So, what’s your story? I’ve told you mine, now you tell me yours.”
“It’s not very interesting. An academic text, actually. Once my talent for science was discovered, I was placed in that community where I lived and learned and barely had time to breathe until a use for me was found.”
“A use? What do you mean by that?”
“A way to be productive. I was enrolled in a human university where I could infiltrate their genetics program—so I guess you
could
call me a spy—and, due to my superior grades, I was selected for several governmental projects.”
She felt his caution in the tightening of his muscles. “Doing what?”
“Research. Theoretical studies on DNA splicing. Testing for genetic defects and repair.”
“Why did the Chosen want that kind of information on humans?”
“My studies weren’t just on humans. Under the umbrella of their funding, I used their security clearances and equipment to pursue our studies.”
“What kind of studies?”
She could tell the topic was unsettling him but she didn’t back away from the answers. “It depended on who paid the most. Purists wanted to know how to separate Shifter and Chosen DNA strands, making them resistant to one another. Naturalists wanted to find a way to successfully recombine them. They called it science. I saw it as politics.”
“And you played both sides?”
“I did the research. The research is pure. It’s in the application that things get complicated. That wasn’t part of my job.”
“Isn’t that like saying I just make the bombs, I don’t decide where to drop them?”
Her gaze grew cool as did her tone. “While I appreciate your indignation, let me remind you that in my world, we have no freedoms, no rights, no choices. We do as we’re told and we ask no questions.”
“Or else what?”
“We’re retrained or relocated.”
His fingertips stroked lightly along the line of her
throat as she swallowed with difficulty. “Why don’t you call it what it is? Brainwashing or exile.”
Her chin notched up so she could meet his stare. Her voice was brittle. “We’re brainwashed or exiled, but either way, we fit into the mold or the mold breaks us. Which would you have suggested for me?”
His palm cupped her cheek, his touch as soothing as his tone. “I’m sorry. I have no right to judge you for doing what you had to do to survive with no one there to protect you.” His brows lowered slightly. “What about your mate? You said he took care of you.”
She looked out over the river, tracking the lights on the lumbering barges as they moved toward the Gulf. “Damien was my mentor. He was responsible for brokering the projects I worked on, getting them funded, negotiating the rights to the research. I was his prize student, his best investment.”
“His meal ticket,” Jacques added dryly.
“Yes. He’d decide what grants to pursue and which to pass on, who could best benefit from our work and who might abuse it. I thought him the most honorable and generous man alive.”
He had no comment about that. “And these were joint decisions regarding your work?”
“No.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep that new tang of bitterness out of her voice.
“And how did he get such power over you? Did you love him that much, or were you required to hand that authority over to him when you mated?”
“Again, it wasn’t as much a personal choice as a
professional necessity. He saved me from disgrace. At the time, I thought he did it out of the goodness of his heart.” She started to turn away, to return inside and away from his questions, but he caught her by the shoulder, making her stop.
“He forced you? How?” The low growl of his words both appeased and alarmed her.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Of course it matters. Anna, what did he do?”
Anna
. Emotion rose to clog her throat, preventing any further explanation. What could she tell him without revealing all?
She took a quick step toward the door just as his fingers closed on the shoulder seam of the T-shirt, pulling it away from what she’d tried to conceal from him.
Susanna heard his harsh intake of breath and risked a glance up at his face. Even in the shadows, she could read his shock as he stared at the telling scars.
“As you can see,” she told him in a tight little voice, “I didn’t always do as I was told.”
Thirteen
Y
ou were bonded to a Shifter male?”