Chapter 7
Cricket
“Give me the keys.” I hold out my hand to Agent Melon.
While waiting for Crash and Doralee to conduct business—something my cat was staunchly against, if for no other reason than my inherent need to keep my eyes on her at all times—I watched two men walk out of the lobby with their eyes on our vehicles.
I clocked them instantly as ex-military, and I’m sure they wanted to do the same thing I had Pitch doing at the same time—planting GPS trackers on their vehicles.
Of course, they didn’t expect me to be holding vigil any more than they expected a bear-shifter dressed like a teenage football player with a bag of fast food in hand to emerge from behind their vehicles. They never could touch our SUVs, which means they’ll try to follow us out of here instead.
But apparently Crash has a contingency for that—a multi-million-dollar house outside of Yellowstone we can slip into if need be. It annoys me for a multitude of reasons.
One, it’s a damn good contingency, and two, he’s the one who thought of it.
Fucking hero.
As the driver of the second vehicle, I’ll be performing evasive maneuvers if those tailing us become hostile.
I kind of hope they will. Crash and I didn’t have time to talk about it, but I’m positive their security is Special Forces, although I don’t know any of them personally.
It goes hand in hand with the government corruption and billion-dollar price tags, and is straight out of every James Bond and Mission Impossible movie I’ve ever seen.
We pull onto Main Street and I catch through my mirrors two men rushing to their SUV—the lights coming on as they start their engine.
“What’s going on?” Agent Melon asks, noting that I’m watching my mirrors. He glances over his shoulder and screams when Pitch pops up from the backseat. “How the hell did you get back there?”
The bear-shifter grins. “I’ve been here the entire time, Melon. Your situational awareness sucks.”
I chuckle, liking this kid more and more. He’s only twenty, but he’s smart and takes direction really well. I’m sure Lieutenant Crash Pumarston is going to be pissed that I’m giving his subordinates direction.
Fuck it—we’ll fight about it and much more later.
“Did you do anything to their tires?” I ask, getting into the left-hand lane to follow Doralee’s car toward the mountains.
“No. I thought that would be too obvious,” Pitch says. “But, I have a few fun things I can throw out if need be.”
“Let’s wait and see. No reason to piss them off just yet.”
They stay four cars behind us, but lose their buffer as people pull off into residential neighborhoods.
They drive past us when we pull off at a wrought-iron gate in front of a long, impressive driveway.
We idle as Rumpert inputs a code into a security system.
The gate swings open and we drive through, but I wait on the other side for it to close before cruising up the long driveway to a nice mountain home.
Who the hell owns this and why are we not staying here?
Melon steps out of our vehicle to meet with the other agents, but I hesitate to make eye contact with Pitch.
“We’ll go into the trees, shift, and see if our friends are waiting for us.”
“If they are?”
I smile. “We’ll have some fun.”
Crash taps on the passenger window, his eyes on Pitch. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Helping me.” I flash my fangs. The sun has dipped below the horizon, so none of the humans can see me. “Distract them and we’ll take a walk.”
Crash frowns but nods. “Roger.”
“Where are we?” Agent Melon asks as Pitch and I exit our vehicle.
“It’s a driveway, Melon.” Crash rolls his eyes, and if he wasn’t such a prick, I’d laugh.
He turns to Doralee as she walks around the front of the SUV, the headlights highlighting her curves like a fucking mafia princess.
Sweet Fates, when she came out of the warehouse earlier, I wanted to jump out of the passenger seat and shield her body from the lecherous eyes of the rest of these assholes.
“Cricket and Pitch are going to check on our tail while we hang out here.”
“Why them?” Rumpert raises his brow.
“Where did you come from?” Doralee points at Pitch.
Pitch grins. “I’ve been here the whole time, ma’am.”
I shake my head, “Contingency plan.”
She puts her hands on her hips and turns to Crash. “Exactly how many—”
He cuts her off with a shake of his head, something I know she hates, and tilts his chin to the porch lights that come on. “I’ll fill you in later.”
I hate his proximity to her, but more so, I hate his protectiveness. There’s no way for me to know if it’s real or not, if he genuinely fancies her, or if it’s all a ruse to fuck with me.
He projects to me and Pitch. “Try not to kill them.”
“Did you notice anything about their security?” I think back.
“Ex-military types? Most like Special Forces.” His eyes shift from me to Pitch.
“That’s problematic,” Pitch adds.
“We’ll talk about it when we get back to the garrison,” Crash thinks, and then says out loud, “Take a look. We’ll be waiting.”
Pitch and I step off the driveway and jog down to the edge of the property where it hits the road. Even if we couldn’t see them, we’d hear and smell them considering our proximity. I hold my fist up and crouch down to listen.
“This is where they stopped?” A suit with dark hair and a deep scar on his face asks as he exits a second SUV.
“Yes,” One of the ex-military guys says, holding up a tactical tablet. “It’s deeded to a Freedom International Trust, but the beneficiaries are sealed.”
Another suit with a pasty face and beady blue eyes nods. “Freedom International. That sounds familiar. I guess they’re legit.”
“Damn,” Scar says. “I was hoping for a reason to get her alone.”
My hackles rise and I know who I’m going to kill first. I strip off my shirt and unlace my boots without saying a word.
“What are you doing?” Pitch projects. “It sounds like they’re leaving.”
“Does that mean we shouldn’t teach them a lesson?” I grin, my eyes glowing with my cat’s presence.
Pitch rolls his eyes and strips off his college football t-shirt while kicking off his trainers.
We both shift quietly. “Go for the security team. I’m going for the suits in the SUV.”
“Shit. Don’t get shot. Crash will kill me if you do.”
“He’s done worse things to me.” I think before trotting down to a break in the wall where I easily jump up and over.
I step onto the middle of the road, far enough away that they think they’ll have time to take cover in their vehicles.
When Pitch takes up position on the opposite end, all vehicles between us on the roadway, I let out a deep growl that causes each man to stop what he’s doing and squint in my direction.
“What the fuck is that?”
“That, gentlemen, would be a mountain lion,” one of the security guys says. He pulls his gun, but doesn’t point it at me. “Go on. We don’t have any food for you.”
“You are the food, motherfucker.” Not that I actually want to eat him, because honestly, humans don’t taste like chicken.
Too much chemical-laced bullshit trapped through their muscles, and don’t even get me started on their fat deposits.
Not that I’ve eaten a human, but I have ripped a few open, and it’s not something I enjoy tasting.
Pitch lets out a roar behind them, causing the five of them to spin quickly on their heels.
“Holy shit!” Pasty Face yelps and runs back to his vehicle. All men scramble, jumping into their cars as Pitch rushes the security SUV, bouncing his enormous body against the side panel and pawing at the latch.
I leap onto the hood of Pasty and Scar’s SUV, staring down at the man whose throat I want to tear out. I hiss, flashing my fangs. He fumbles to get the key in the ignition while staring back at me with wide eyes.
“Get us the fuck out of here!” Pasty yells.
The engine cranks, and he throws it into gear. I leap onto the roof and then off the back as his tires squeal and he punches the accelerator. Two vehicles tear down the road back toward Dunham as Pitch and I watch from the center line.
“That was… I’m not sure what that was.” Pitch shakes out his coat. He’s significantly smaller than Kade and Erick, although his coat is a cinnamon color, and I wonder if he’s a black bear instead of a grizzly.
“It was a warning,” I growl. “Those fuckers will see us again, our muzzles coated in their blood as they take their last breaths.”
“Damn, Cricket.” He chuckles. “You’re bloodthirsty.”
He doesn’t understand that this is about more than atrocities committed against innocents; it’s about me protecting my mate.
But something tells me he’ll learn that sooner rather than later.
I won’t be able to hide my need from other shifters, and I won’t be able to avoid her for much longer.
It’s killing me now to know she’s a quarter-mile up the road with someone I don’t trust watching her back.
“Come on. Let’s get back.” I trot to the wall and leap over. A few minutes later, we’re dressed and walking through the trees to the driveway where a shifter I don’t recognize talks to the assembled agents.
Crash turns murderous eyes on me and Pitch, and it’s obvious they heard our animals and the chaos that ensued.
Doralee also turns to us. “Did you see wild animals down there?”
“We did. It was crazy.” I lick my lips. “Anyway, they’re gone. Apparently, this house is deeded to some nefarious organization that earned their approval?”
Shifting my eyes to the unknown shifter, I project my thoughts. “Friend or foe?”
There’s no recognition on his face, which tells me he isn’t capable of speaking telepathically, a special talent we specifically recruit for in SpecOps Sierra.
Crash sighs. “This is a friend of Colonel Packard’s. They were at the same college around the same time.”
“Ah.” I shake the unknown cat-shifter’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” He smiles, the wrinkles in his face telling me he’s probably in his mid-sixties. Was he one of Packard’s professors?
“Since the coast is clear, we’re going to take off. Thank you for the assist.” Crash again shakes the hand of the man who has yet to be named.
I lock eyes with Doralee, trying to get a read off of her. Her heart rate beats steadily in her veins, but her lips are pursed as if she has something to say.
“Would you like to ride with us?” I offer.
She nods. “Yes. Crash and I will ride with you and Pitch. Melon, you ride with Castor and Rumpert.”
“What?” Castor argues but then shakes his head. “Never mind.”
We bid our goodbyes as Doralee climbs into the passenger seat. Part of me is thrilled to have her near me and away from Crash, who begrudgingly takes the backseat with Pitch, but in the front seat she’s more vulnerable should an ambush be waiting for us down the road.
I doubt she’d appreciate me asking her to sit in the back for her protection, so I keep my mouth shut. Cranking the engine, I lead our caravan down the driveway.
She doesn’t waste a second. “Okay, SpecOps. Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”