Seeker of Shadows (2 page)

For all my friends in the blogosphere
—thanks for getting me out there!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Prologue

H
e checked his watch, concerned though not yet worried. She could have been late for any number of reasons.

He risked another impatient look down the sterile hallway. Meeting in such a public place was dangerous, but neither of them could wait another three days for her schedule to open up. Anticipation growled through him. Hell, he couldn’t wait another three minutes.

He paced the storage room, hating circumstances that forced them to steal time together in closets, into hiding what neither of them was ashamed of. It wouldn’t always be this way, not if he could help it. She deserved better. She was worth more than a rushed tangle of heavy breathing on a hard tiled floor.

The door slipped open and she was in his arms, her soft scent masking the antiseptic odor of their surroundings.

At the first touch of her lips, he forgot everything beyond the sweet satisfaction of holding her tight. For a moment, consumed by the sensual feast, desire overcame the fear of discovery.

She trembled in his embrace—with eagerness he thought, until tasting the salt of her tears.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, trying to draw her closer to the dim light so he could see her face.

She ducked her head, refusing to answer as her shaking intensified. Her breath came in quick snatches as her hands anxiously kneaded his forearms.

A cold thread of alarm began to uncoil in his gut. Then the door flew open, flooding the small room with glaring light. His first move was to thrust her behind him, shielding her from view. But she wouldn’t release him. Her hands clutched his arms, slowing his reactions for the second it took to lose whatever little advantage he might have had.

Pain, sudden and swift, dropped him to his knees. Burning, then numbness raced down his extremities until his arms and legs grew useless.

He heard her cry out in shrill distress.

“No! Don’t hurt him! Please! You promised!”

The raw emotion in her tone, the scent of her fear, tore a roar of near madness from his throat. He tried to stand, fought to get one foot under him. The effort was excruciating, yet still he struggled.

Something struck him in the temple, sending him crashing to the floor, where his arms were secured behind him in cuffs of silver that ate like acid into his wrists. He pulled against them, trying to get free. To get to her.

The sound of her weeping was more caustic than the silver as his ankles were also bound, leaving him trussed and helpless.

What was happening?
He couldn’t let them take her!

He tried to shout her name as a muzzling mask wrapped about his face, sealing out light, sealing in his furious snarls.

Then her hands covered his, squeezing frantically as she sobbed. “Don’t fight. Please. Just let them take you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

What was she saying?
Sorry?

Then realization hit hard.

No!

With the sudden sharp stick of a needle, anguish gave way to a slow roll into unconsciousness. Her voice was the last thing he clung to as awareness slipped from him.

“It has to be this way. I love you. I will always love you. Remember that. Remember how much I love you.”

Then, nothing.

One

S
o this was how a lamb felt at the slaughter.

Nothing in Susanna Duchamps’s isolated world prepared her for the barrage of sensations within the dark walls of the Shifter club. Sound battered her ears. Music pounded in a visceral pulse. Brutish figures hunched over tables, their voices loud and rough, their laughter carnal. Even the scent burning her nostrils was frighteningly feral, urging her to step back before she was noticed. Before she became a tender meal.

The moment she’d crossed the threshold of
Cheveux du Chien
, the safe separation between their species was gone and she became the unprotected prey.

And at
their
mercy, instead of the other way around.

Too frightened to move, Susanna feared she wouldn’t survive this huge mistake.

“You made it.”

Recognizing the direct voice of Nica Fraser, she turned, hoping her smile wasn’t wobbly with relief.

For an instant, the sight of the deadly mercenary-for-hire in her guise of waitress confused her. The last time she’d seen the tall, willowy assassin, she’d been in a stylish cashmere sweater dress and tall boots, looking more like a society fund-raiser than a black-denim-jeans-and-skinny-tank-topped
barmaid. But in the cool, measuring stare, she saw the dangerous chameleon who’d risked her life to restore the one thing that made Susanna’s worth living. That’s why she’d answered Nica’s surprise call to come quickly and secretively to New Orleans.

“You said you needed my help, so here I am. It’s the least I could do to repay you.”

Nica waved off her gratitude. “Believe me, I was paid plenty.”

“Not by me,” came Susanna’s somber response. She glanced around, aware that their meeting was drawing attention she couldn’t afford. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

Noting the carry-on bag with its Chicago–New Orleans tag still attached, Nica asked, “Don’t you want to get settled in and freshen up first?”

“No offense, but I don’t want to settle in here. I’d rather get right to business.”

Nica’s quick smile softened her rather hawkish features. “Now I remember why I liked you. Follow me. We can use my boss’s office while he’s in the stockroom checking in a new shipment.”

They threaded a gauntlet of crowded tables. Hard rock rained down from an extensive sound system tucked in between ductwork and industrial lighting that dangled by chains and pulleys from the refurbished warehouse’s soaring flat, black ceiling. The beat was as primal as the clientele. Up close, the brute power of the rugged males was as raw as the harsh liquor in
their glasses. Gleaming stares fixed upon her, some just curious, some vaguely menacing. She clutched her bag tighter and stuck close to her companion.

“Your boss?” she called over the noise. “You work here?”

Nica chuckled without looking back. “Quite a drop in pay grade, but my man’s a stickler for legality. Honest work for honest pay and all that self-righteous nonsense. Good thing he’s more relaxed in other areas or I’d never put up with him.”

Startled by the comment, Susanna glanced at her shoulder. Faint scarring showed beneath the thin straps of her tank top. “You’re bonded.”

“Amazing, huh? Good thing
he
admires
my
other qualities or he’d never put up with my lack thereof on the domestic front. They say opposites attract.”

Susanna said nothing as they climbed a short flight of wide steps to a room off a dark hall that had probably once belonged to the plant supervisor, who could keep an eye on his laborers through a broad expanse of glass. Those windows now gleamed with a reflective opaque of privacy.

Given the rough element in the bar area, the office of
Cheveux du Chien
was surprisingly professional, from its red, black, and chrome décor to the surveillance equipment and high-end computer. Closing the door sealed out the raucous sounds from the floor.

“How was your trip?” Nica asked as she waved her guest to one of the black leather couches.

“Long. I’m not particularly fond of train travel.”
She sighed as she sank into comfortable cushions and let her heavy bag drop along with her anxiousness.

“But it’s expedient and difficult to trace,” Nica justified. “You didn’t have any trouble with the tickets I sent, did you?”

“No. I didn’t expect to. I know you’re very good at your job. I wouldn’t have come here, otherwise. I’m sure you appreciate the danger this puts me and my family in, just talking to you.”

“I do. But I also know you’re not as delicate as your expensive pastel suit would suggest. I wouldn’t have asked
you
here, otherwise. We’re professional females, you and I, and there’s little we won’t do in the name of business or family.”

“Why am I here, Nica? Business or family?”

“A bit of both, and I think you’ll find it very worth your trouble.”

A pique of interest pushed away her travel fatigue. “Go on. What kind of family business requires an obgyn?”

Nica hesitated for just an instant, then amended, “That’s not all you are. You’re a geneticist in a very specialized field.” Catching the jump of alarm in Susanna’s eyes, she added, “I had to know who you were, and what you were involved in, when you hired me. That information goes no farther than the two of us if you decide you can’t help me.”

Susanna relaxed, forcing her mood to become equally receptive. She trusted the other woman. Nica understood the importance of secrecy and security
when survival was in the balance. It was how both of them lived their very different lives.

“So,” she ventured carefully, “exactly how much do you know about what I do?”

“Everything. I know your practice within the human world is a cover so you can access their databases. I know your private interest is in combining Shifter and Chosen DNA, and that even though the Purist Movement has offered to fund your research, you’ve refused their aid because of their reputation for, shall we say, meddling.”

“They don’t care about honest research. They’re only interested in furthering their propaganda of separate being better, and separate and
not
equal, better still.”

Nica grinned. “Bet it feels good to say that out loud.”

Susanna returned a wry smile. “One watches one’s words when political ears are everywhere.”

“And long, unforgiving memories. It must get tricky hiding your true focus from them.”

Again, Susanna had no comment. The shadow of her enemies reached too far for her to feel comfortable speaking her opinion. There was too much in the balance. Instead, she asked more pointedly, “What part of my research concerns you?”

“Shifter regeneration properties.”

Her reply was cautious. “Personal or military application?”

Nica laughed. “I’m no friend of the military, or anything governmental, for that matter. I’m enjoying my
newfound freedom a little too much to place it anywhere near their opportunistic hands.”

“Personal then.”

“Yes. Not me, personally, but a friend. I owe a debt, and in settling mine, you can satisfy yours to me. You aren’t obligated in any way. You’re free to say no and get back on the first train north with no hard feelings. Your work is valuable. I wouldn’t want to compromise it in any way.”

Compromise. That was the last thing she expected to hear from the razor-edged warrior. Susanna didn’t know much about Nica Fraser except that she’d succeeded when no other could with an unmatched deadly skill and cunning. But this softer side was a new facet to her, one that perhaps came with settling down with a mate. A wistful pang twisted through her, but it was pushed away as she turned back to business.