Chapter 12: Alpha’s Mission: Chapter 11

I drive out of the woods with my heart on the floor mat. Letting Charlie walk off into the sunrise nearly killed me. I wanted to run after him, offer to drive him someplace, give him a warm meal. But I know he needs none of those things. If there’s any guy who can survive on his wits alone, it’s Charlie Dune.

It’s probably stupid that I’m clinging to hope he’ll find some solution to his wolf problem and show back up in my life. Even without the wolf thing, the idea would be ludicrous. It’s not who he is. He’s a work-alone spy. A deadly government weapon.

He was never going to move in with me and start up a sweet little relationship. He was never going to stick around.

And I knew that from the get-go.

So, why then do I feel like I just jumped off a cliff and am lying flat on the desert floor below?

I grab a burner phone and call Sarah.

“Annabel!” she cries. “Please tell me we can leave this godforsaken cabin.”

“Yep. You’re free.”

“Hallelujah! Grady and I are going nuts here. Not that I wasn’t totally freaked out about your safety. Except I was only a little freaked out because I knew you had your super agent with you. How is that hunk of man-chest, anyway?”

“Um, okay.” My voice wavers.

“Oh shit, Bel, what happened?”

“Nothing. He just had to go.”

“Asshole.”

“No, it’s not like that. Really. Not at all.” I touch the wounds on my shoulder. “He just has his own personal demons he has to deal with.”

Then I’m crying like a freaking baby.

“Oh Bel, I’m so sorry. He seemed like a great guy. And really into you.”

I swipe at my tears. “Yeah. Definitely a great guy. Exactly what I’d want in a partner. Too bad I always want the kind of guys who can’t be partners.”

“Like Dad,” Sarah says softly. She picked a military man for a husband, too. And she lost him to the military. He never wanted to come home and be a dad.

“Yeah, I guess you know all about that, too.”

We’re silent together, just acknowledging each other’s pain. Our own pain.

“Well, I found out who really killed dad.”

Sarah draws in a sharp breath. “Tell me.”

I tell her the entire story, leaving nothing out which takes me the length of the drive back to Washington, D.C.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“I think I’m going to call Senator Flack. Bring him the recording and see if he can tell me where to go from here. Right after I check into a hotel and have a really long cry.”

“You want me to come out there? A real shoulder to cry on? Grady and I will be on a plane in a second.”

I tear up again, my chest squeezing. “No, you and Grady need to get home. But thank you. I love you.”

And like a crazy woman, I burst into tears again. “He said he loved me,” I tell her. “And I didn’t say it back.”

Sarah makes a sympathetic sound. “I’m sure he knows. You’re not so good at hiding your feelings.”

“Yeah, but I wish I’d told him.”

“Do you have any way to contact him?”

I sniff. “Yes. But I’d have to speak in code.”

“Well, if it’s important to you, get him the message. Let him know you’ll be around if he gets his shit figured out. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

I don’t that to be what I want. Waiting around for how long? Months? Years? Never knowing if Charlie’s dead or alive? It sounds terrible. And yet the alternative—crushing the hope, however dim it may be, of ever seeing him again—is far worse.

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Sarah.”

“Call me again. Let me know when you have a phone number I can use again.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“Love you.”

I park the stolen truck in a Sheraton parking lot and get out. Time for a shower. A long cry. And to go on.

Without Charlie in my life.

It seems impossible, but it’s what I must do.

I ride my new motorcycle to the metal warehouses south of the train tracks where the Tucson shifters set up their illegal cage fights. I’d made a new ID and taken the first flight I could get to Arizona where I bought this bike. I figure it will help me fit in, to connect with the pack.

The truth is, I like the way it feels—the power and speed remind me of what it’s like to shift and run. Which must be why the shifters like them so well.

Several motorcycles are parked out front. I park beside them and dismount. I’m itchy about going in. Even in special forces, I was a lone wolf. It’s not that I don’t make friends, but I’m not a highly social guy.

Or maybe I hesitate because my heart’s been smashed to a pulp, and I’m barely a shell of a man right now. But I need to go in there for Annabel, to find out what’s going to happen to her—what’s going to happen to me.

I push open the door without knocking, and four huge guys stop talking to look over.

I recognize them all from the last time I was here. I’ve been trained to never forget a face. Jared stands beside his pierced friend. Garrett Green is the pack leader, the one whose lawyer girlfriend marched in and pulled Jared out of the police station. The fourth guy is huge—built like a tank, complete with a military crew cut. He served as a bouncer at the cage fight.

“Well, well, well, he survived the full moon,” Jared drawls.

His buddy snickers. “What’d you think? You were going to go on a killing rampage?”

I’m all out of humor. I march over and wrap my fist in the guy’s shirt. He growls and the other three step forward, closing us in.

“I bit a girl. Could’ve killed her.”

“You marked her,” Jared speaks. His words cut through my anger. He’s saying something important.

I release his friend’s shirt and whirl. “I ”

“You marked her as your mate. She survived it?”

I grip Jared’s shirt. I’m ready to punch him for speaking so casually about Annabel almost dying.

“You should’ve fucking told me!”

Jared’s big hand reaches for my throat, and it’s on. I’m to grapple right now. I duck out of his reach and kick him in the gut. The other three move back, arms folded over chests.

“Did she survive?” he grits as he staggers back.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.” I throw a punch. He dodges and swings at me. I drop down to sweep a foot out, tripping him to the ground. He’s up in a blink, coming at me, both fists swinging. I duck and parry, try to get a swing into his ribs, but he blocks it.

“I tried to tell you. You hung up on me. I even called you back.”

I remember now, the phone ringing as I crushed it beneath my heel.

Damn. I want this to be Jared’s fault, but it’s not. It’s nobody’s but mine.

I duck, but he goes in for my torso, picks me up and walks me backward to the wall, throws me against it.

I reach up to grab a beam, wrap my lower legs around Jared’s neck and squeeze.

“So, what’s going to happen to her?” I demand.

He grabs my legs and attempts to pry them off his throat.

“She’s… forever marked… with your scent,” he grits out with choked breath. “No… other wolf… will touch her.”

I release him and drop to the ground.

“That’s it? She’s not going to turn into a wolf?”

All four wolves snicker. “We’re not leeches, dude. You can’t turn someone into a wolf,” the pierced guy says.

“Unless you’re the crazy Doctor Smyth,” Garrett mutters.

Relief almost turns my legs weak. “So… she’s fine? Other than the scent thing?”

Jared throws a right uppercut, and I let it land because I pretty much deserve it. It hits me on the left side of my jaw and throws me backward.

A good-natured grin spreads across his face. “You took that one on purpose, didn’t you?”

I shrug.

He holds out a hand, and I take it. He pulls me forward.

“Guys, this is Agent Charlie Dune. I’ve told you about him.” He introduces me to the other men. The pierced one is Trey, the larger one aptly called Tank.

“Well, you want the good news or the bad news?” Jared asks.

“Bad.”

“Bad news is once you’ve marked a female, you’ll never be able to leave her. She’s yours to protect until you both die. The instinct will be there even if the human in you wants to deny the connection.”

I blink. Could be worse. Could be way worse.

“But I won’t hurt her? I won’t bite her again?”

“You’ll never hurt her. You’ll kill to keep her safe,” Tank says.

“I would anyway.”

Garrett, Jared, and Tank all grin and nod like they know exactly how I feel.

“What’s the good news?”

“Good news is now you won’t go moon mad. The madness comes from denying the urge to mate—refusing your natural instinct. You’ve marked her—it’s done. We won’t have to babysit you over the next full moon.”

I can hardly believe it. I’m not a danger—not to Annabel. Not to anyone.

The urge to rush back to Annabel’s side is so strong, I have to work to keep myself in one spot.

Garrett’s lips twitch. “What’s her name?”

“Annabel. And, ah, I need to let her know all this. Right away. Thanks for the information, guys. I’ll be in touch.”

Trey snorts. “Next time stay for a beer.”

“Yeah,” I call over my shoulder as I start to leave. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

“Dune,” Garrett calls me back.

I turn. “Yeah?”

“Wolves need a pack. Especially a new wolf like you.”

I frown. What the hell kind of fraternity thing is this? “Thanks, but I, ah, generally work alone.”

“Yeah, I get that. But if you would’ve come to see us sooner, we could’ve helped with the moon madness. Or at least explained what was happening.”

He’s right. I was the asshole who refused to stop and ask for directions. I definitely screwed things up with Annabel because I was playing lone wolf.

“Are you saying you’d let me in your pack?”

Garrett shrugs. “You have a place here if you want. You helped get Nash’s kid back. And it would be nice for us to have someone on the inside of the law for a change.”

I shake my head. “I’m leaving the CIA. And I got a female to protect.”

Now I’m talking like them.

“Say,” I’m not on the job anymore, but I can’t stop asking. “You know anything about a Lucius Frangelico? Is he one of your—our kind?”

Garrett bares his teeth. “Hardly. He’s a fucking leech.”

I stare at him for a moment before I understand. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

are a real thing, too?”

“Yeah, and this one is trouble,” Trey says. “What do you know about him?”

I don’t mind sharing information with these guys. I figure I owe them something for their help. “The CIA ordered a watch on him, but he made me every time I got close. I got pulled off the case, and I heard the next agent wound up dead.”

Trey whistles.

“He’s suspected of a number of things, including drug and weapons trafficking, but I don’t think the government really knows what he’s up to.”

“He’s opening a nightclub downtown in direct competition with the two other paranormal bars,” Trey offers. “And he’s made it clear he wants to be master of the city and hunt in our territory. We’re not happy.” His eyes glitter with a weird light as his monster peers out.

“No,” Garrett growls, and the air vibrates with the same energy I feel right before I shift. “Not happy at all.”

“Watch your backs. Let me know if I can help,” I find myself offering.

Strange. Maybe this pack idea is growing on me.

“That’d be hard considering I don’t have a working number for you,” Jared says drily.

I pull out my phone and send him a message as I walk backward toward the door. “There. Now you have it. I’ll expect you to use it.”

Jared’s grin appears reluctant. “That almost sounds like you want to see us again.”

I chuckle as I head out the door. “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

I drag through the motions of living. Check into the Sheraton. Get some new clothes. Shower. Feed myself.

It all feels like swimming through mud.

My mind is forever circling Charlie. Wishing I’d said I loved him. Wondering where he is. If he needs help. If he’s a danger to others.

Did I do the right thing not putting him down?

I have to believe I did. His mind and rational thoughts were intact—he just struggled with animal urges. He’ll figure it out.

Except guilt gnaws at me.

I should be with him, helping him figure it out.

The way he helped me.

Why did I let him go off alone? He needs me.

I force myself to move forward, the way I know Charlie expects me to. I make multiple copies of the confession to safeguard it, then log in and file an official CIA report on what went down with Director Scape, leaving out the parts about Charlie’s wolf problem. I don’t leave my contact information—not yet. I’m probably completely safe now, but I need to be sure.

I want to take it to the highest level possible to make sure this all comes out clean.

I call Senator Flack and leave a message.

He calls back right away.

“Annabel, my dear. Where are you?”

“I’m still in town, Senator. I have some information to share with you about my dad’s death. Some new developments that involve the CIA. I wasn’t sure where else to go, so I thought maybe you—”

“Of course, of course.” He has that reassuring Santa Claus voice that puts me at ease. “I’m tied up in meetings today but why don’t you come to my house later tonight, Annabel?”

“Sure, okay. That sounds great. What’s the address?”

He gives it to me, and I end the call.

Now to send a message to Charlie.

In a motel room, I pull out my tablet to contact Annabel. I need to let her know she’s safe and what this means. I don’t know how she’ll take the marking thing. If she wants me to stay away, I will. As long as I know she’s safe, I’ll respect her wishes.

I log into the secure server we have for messaging, enter my password, and provide a retinal scan.

She’s already left me one.

I smile. Then read, A prickle of fear rolls over me. It’s not attached to any rational thought—just a knowing. Something’s not right. Is Annabel still in danger?

Oh, Lord. How could I have left her unprotected?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I yank electronics out of my bag, plug in my phone, tablet, laptop. I get into the records from Director Scape’s phone and from Agent Tentrite’s and scan through them. There are calls from Scape to Tentrite. That’s to be expected. I’m looking for anything from Flack. When did Annabel first call him?

I don’t have Annabel’s call records because she used a destroyed burner phone. I do have Scape’s cell phone. And I have a good memory. I pinpoint the time Annabel would’ve called Flack, then check Scape’s incoming calls.

There’s one. Only a few seconds long. I download the recording and play it.

It’s short and sweet. Simply the Senator’s deep voice saying, “Call me on a secure line.”

I grab Scape’s cell phone and scroll through. Bingo, Director Scape made a call from his cell phone to that same number thirty seconds later.

Too bad I didn’t have a bug on that phone.

But it’s enough. Flack’s involved. I have to get a message to Annabel before she goes there tonight.

I memorized the numbers on the burner phones Annabel and I bought, and I dial them all, one by one now. She doesn’t pick up.

I leave a message on the server.

I leave a string of numbers in which my phone number is hidden in code. It could be broken by the CIA, but it might take them a little time.

Shoving my things back into a bag, I jump on the motorcycle and gun it for the airport. Flying East in the afternoon from Tucson is going to be a challenge, but hopefully, there’s something going out. Why in the hell did I come all the way to Tucson instead of picking up the damn phone to call Jared, instead?

I’m an idiot.

It’s eight p.m. when I get dropped off by my Lyft driver in front of the Senator’s house. It’s a showy, manicured estate in Georgetown. Much nicer than a former CIA director turned senator should be able to afford. He must come from money.

I clutch my attaché case and walk up the sidewalk. The door swings wide and the senator steps out with a warm smile.

“Annabel Gray. Come in, come in. You have your father’s eyes.”

“Do I?”

“Come in, have a seat.” He gestures to an overstuffed sofa. “My wife is out tonight, but I can play host. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, nothing.”

He sits down in the chair beside me and balances one ankle on his knee. “I’m glad we finally get to meet. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Actually, I lied when I said I had the stomach flu. Someone tried to stop me from seeing you.”

His bushy white eyebrows raise above penetrating brown eyes. He leans forward.

“What happened?”

“Two guys pulled me into a stairwell. I got away but decided I’d better lie low until I put the pieces of this together.”

“All right. Start from the beginning. Pieces of what? You mentioned your dad’s death?”

“Yes. Senator Flack, you were director of the CIA when he died, right?”

“That’s right.”

“And do you know what his mission in El Salvador was?”

“He was quelling unrest, so the peace accord would go through.”

“Actually, he was given orders to stir things up and prevent peace. And when he refused, his superior, Director Scape had him killed.”

Flack sits back, a look of disbelief on his face. “That’s quite an allegation.”

“I have his recorded confession.” I hold up my cell phone and hit play.

Flack’s expression remains blank as he listens. Then he leans forward.

“Who have you told about this?”

It’s an odd question. The wrong question. Isn’t it? I’m suddenly ready to jump out of my skin with nerves. I lie to test him. “No one. I don’t know who I can trust in the CIA. I came straight to you.”

He clasps his hands. “That’s good. And what about your partner? Where is he?”

My chest seizes. I can hardly breathe. He definitely shouldn’t know anything about Charlie.

“What partner?”

“Oh, I assumed you had one of your field agents on this with you,” he says smoothly. It’s so smooth, I can’t quite decide if I’m being paranoid or not.

“Nope. Totally alone.” I clutch the edges of the attaché case in my lap. “I wouldn’t involve agents on a personal matter. That would be unethical. Um, may I use your restroom?”

Senator Flack stands up. “Of course, right this way.”

I follow his directions and shut myself in the bathroom. I just need a minute to think. To get my heart rate down, figure out what to do next. I stare at myself in the mirror, still surprised to see myself blonde.

Okay, I just need to leave. If there was a bathroom window, I’d already be out it. I wish I had a phone number for Charlie. But he’s already out of town. I have to figure this one out on my own.

And I can. All it takes is staying calm. If I keep my wits about me, I can figure out for sure if the Senator is a part of things. I take a page out of Charlie’s book and turn the recorder on my phone.

Here goes nothing.

I step out of the bathroom and pain explodes at the back of my head.

The last thing I remember is the floor rushing up to meet my face, then I’m out.

I see the four meatheads hustling out of the Grand Cherokee parked in front of Senator Flack’s house, weapons in clear view. They’re private mercenaries by the look. Military trained. Probably from a high-profile, top-secret security company.

Hopefully, their presence means Annabel’s still alive. I race around the side of the manor, climbing up to look in each window.

Oh God.

Annabel’s on the living room floor, her wrists, ankles, and mouth taped with duct tape. The four goons stand around her, jawing with Senator Flack. I’m going to kill them all.

There are bars on the windows or I’d bust through this one right now.

I need a distraction. I grab a grenade from the duffel Otis packed for me, light it, and throw it into the front yard, then race to the back of the house. The grenade explodes, and the men inside the house shout and run out the front door. It takes me thirty-five seconds to pick the lock on the back door.

My wolf hearing detects someone on the other side of the door, so I throw it hard and smack him with it. The guy stumbles back. I kick his gun out of his hand and punch him in the face. He lunges for the gun on the floor, and I slam my boot into his back, flattening him with inhuman strength. He’s out cold. Picking up the gun, I tuck it in the back waistband of my pants and race forward on stealthy feet. Three shots and the other guys are down. Their shots go wild. Senator Flack fires on me from behind the couch, but I dart behind the door frame.

Annabel stirs on the floor, and her eyelids flutter open. Thank fuck. I heard her heartbeat but seeing her lifeless made my wolf insane.

I need to eliminate Flack’s threat to her.

I dive into the living room, rolling in front of her body and crouching, gun pointed. I take a bullet to the chest and return fire. Call me old school—I always aim straight between the eyes.

Flack drops to the ground.

I use shifter strength to tear off the duct tape around Annabel’s wrists and ankles and wince with her when I pull it off her mouth. She throws herself at me, and I gather her in my arms, crushing her body against mine.

Sirens sound outside.

“Annabel. Christ. I almost lost you,” I choke. “I never should have left you unprotected.”

“You saved me,” she breathes. “I knew you would. I mean, it wasn’t rational—I didn’t you could possibly come to my rescue, but I knew. When I heard the explosion outside, something in me said, ”

“Get on the floor, face down!” The police charge in, guns drawn.