Greco (Book 1.5) (The Omega Group) (7 page)

You’ve just read Greco, from the Omega Group Series. I hope
you enjoyed it.

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If you’d like to read an excerpt from Rogue, the next
installment of The Omega Group series, please turn the page.

Ahiga, chief of the Havasupai tribe, leaned against the
jagged rock wall of the cave they were using to treat their wounded. It was the
desert’s cold season, leaving them with no better place. The stench of blood
hung in the air as he watched his once mighty warriors writhe on the cold
floor. Their cries, he believed, were not for the pain they felt, but rather
for the sadness. They had failed, and because of that their tribe was finished.

Two full moons had passed since the Yavapai tribe first
attacked them. Although they had always been aggressive, angering the other Pai
tribes with their petty grievances, Ahiga never thought they would start a war.
The Yavapai were blessed with fertile lands and an abundance of animals. Their
lives should have been full and peaceful, yet they wanted more.

Ahiga’s tribe, like all others in the area, spent the cold
winters living in the caves at the rim of the enormous canyon. During the warm
season, when the sun’s rays reached down into the depths, they resided far
below, surrounded by lush gardens and waterfalls fed by an underground spring.

It was these gardens that the Yavapai coveted.

Despite their inferior numbers, the Havasupai fought well to
protect their land. Ahiga was proud of his warriors, though he feared the
battle was over. Many lives had already been lost, and those that remained were
weakened by injury and hunger. If their healer, Nayavu, could not find a way to
strengthen their bodies and spirits, Ahiga would have no option but to
surrender.

“Cheveyo,” Ahiga called out to one of the children
collecting healing herbs and plants for the wounded. “Take me to Nayavu.”

The young boy, still many seasons from manhood, led Ahiga to
the far corner of the cave. He dropped his satchel of herbs beside a small fire
burning a strange yellow color and, with a nod to his chief, returned to his
duties.

Nayavu was crouched low with his eyes closed, chanting
another prayer to Tochapa, their god of good. This prayer asked for strength,
speed, and healing to be bestowed upon the Havasupai warriors. When he
finished, he placed a small bowl on his lap and filled it with leaves, roots,
and twigs from the boy’s satchel. After crushing them together with a small
stone, he added water, nestled the bowl deep into the yellow embers of the fire,
and stood to face his chief.

“Nayavu, I fear we are nearing our end. Have you a potion
yet?” the chief asked.

“Yes.” Nayavu wore a smile as he reached two fingers into a
small sheepskin pouch that hung around his neck. He pulled out two tiny objects
and held them up to Ahiga. “Earlier, when the sun was in its highest position,
my spirit guides sent me a vision. They showed me a pack of wolves surrounded
by many coyotes. The coyotes attacked as one terrible group and it looked as
though the wolves would be slaughtered. But they were not. Instead, though
injured, they fought with all their strength, and the coyotes were no match for
them. When I awoke, I found these lying next to me. One is the tooth, the other
the claw, of a wolf.”

Ahiga felt hope blossom inside as the meaning of Nayavu’s
vision became clear. Tochapa would endow his warriors with the strength of
wolves and allow them to defeat their enemy.

When the healer dropped the items into the bowl, the smoke
from the fire began to swirl around itself instead of rising. The yellow flames
threw sparks so plentiful and bright that the chief shielded his eyes and took
several steps back. With one final explosion of sparks, the flames shrank down
into orange embers and the smoke stilled before it resumed its path to the roof
of the cave.

Nayavu’s hands shook as he grabbed the bowl and handed it to
his chief. Ahiga touched his fingers to the clay expecting to feel the heat of
fire, but instead felt only a slight warmth. The potion inside swirled as the
smoke had done only a moment before.

“Feed this to all of our warriors. Quickly.” Ahiga watched
as the healer tilted the bowl to every man’s lips. Once the injured were
treated, Nayavu brought the potion to all of the others, saving the last drops
for Ahiga.

That night was a restless one. Sleep would not come, even to
those exhausted by battle. Some complained of pain, others of strange thoughts
racing so quickly as to make them lose their balance. Still others remained
perfectly quiet, staring into the brightness of the almost-full moon from the
mouth of the cave.

When the sun finally began its ascent, Ahiga gathered all of
his uninjured warriors. “Tochapa has blessed us. Let this be the day we prevail
against the Yavapai.”

While war cries echoed throughout the canyon, the Havasupai
ran toward their enemy with spears raised. When they arrived at the small group
of caves they knew the Yavapai tribe used as their gathering grounds, they
found the spot empty. Smoke trailed lazily from the remains of several fires, but
the warriors were gone. Ahiga’s heart clenched in his chest as he realized his
mistake. He’d taken every warrior that was well enough away from their home,
leaving the injured and the women and children alone. “We must get back and
protect our people.”

He’d taken but two strides when he heard it—the whooshing
sound only airborne spears can make. “Raise your shields!” Before the words
were out of his mouth, the Havasupai warriors were gathering in a tight circle,
backs to the center, crouched behind worn wooden shields.

The Yavapai had been lying in wait, hidden behind rocks and
in the darkest shadows created by the large caves. The sharpened stone-tipped
spears came at them from all directions, most clattering uselessly off their
shields. Then came the Yavapai warriors. If it had not been his warriors caught
in this trap, Ahiga would have been impressed with their strategy. They had
them surrounded.

The familiarity of the situation overwhelmed Ahiga as he
thought back to Nayavu’s vision. Was this that battle? Without wasting another
moment, he led his warriors in a mighty war cry and they rushed their
attackers.

The sensation of the change was almost lost on Ahiga as he
felt the first Yavapai club strike his shoulder. The pain from the blow
radiated outward until it encompassed his entire chest. He reached for the
knife sheathed at his waist only to have it fall from the fur-covered paw that
was once his hand.

Swiveling his head from side to side, the chief saw the
Yavapai tribe’s expressions change from triumph to bewilderment and finally to
horror as his men changed. His mighty warriors were now ferocious wolves.

Acting on pure instinct, Ahiga pounced, powerful jaws
tearing at the Yavapai’s throat. The unfamiliar taste of flesh covered his
tongue, and before the first bloodied body hit the ground, the chief added two
more. His tribe—now his pack—ravaged the unsuspecting Yavapai until rivers of
their blood flowed down the canyon walls.

The battle was over before the sun reached halfway to its
apex. Surveying his surroundings, Ahiga’s heart swelled with pride. Resting on
his haunches, he raised his eyes toward the heavens and howled his thanks to
Tochapa.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” The stewardess
looked impeccable—her hair, makeup, and uniform all perfect.

“No, thank you.” Carter Mockta turned his attention back to
the endless blue sky outside his window, an errant lock of black hair escaping
his ponytail to hang in front of his eye. Flying in the luxurious Bombardier
BD-700 Global Express was definitely one of the best perks of being an Omega
Group member, but the comfort that the supple leather seats afforded was lost
on him. They were three hours into their four-hour flight from Jacksonville to
the Grand Canyon, and Carter was running out of excuses for his lack of
participation with the rest of his team.

When Myrine, the leader of the Omega Group, assigned Carter
to this mission, she’d inadvertently put him in an untenable situation. There
was no way he could investigate the strange happenings around the canyon
without running into his family. And running into his family could very well
put an end to his investigation.
It’ll definitely be an interesting reunion.

“Well, that’s a first.” Han, his closest friend, eyed him
from across the aisle.

“What?”

“The stewardess. She’s been flirting with you since we took
off and you’ve barely even given her the time of day. Definitely not the Carter
I know.”

He was right, of course. Carter was what people called a
ladies man. His Native American complexion and dark, brooding eyes—not to
mention his tall, muscular build—tended to attract attention from the opposite
sex. Normally, he was more than happy to oblige, keeping a string of women
anxiously waiting for a telephone call from him that would never come. He was
fine giving women a second or even third date, but anything beyond that was
strictly off limits. He knew all too well the damage a relationship could
inflict.

“I’m pretty sure they prefer to be called flight attendants
now.”

Han just smiled and resumed reading. Although he appeared to
be engrossed in his book, Carter knew he was waiting for him to start the
inevitable conversation about his family. He was about to do just that when he
was interrupted by Jackie, the last member of their team.

“We’ve got a call from Director Finley.” She put the phone
on speaker and sat down across the small table from Han. “We’re all present,
sir.”

Robert Finley, director of the CIA, spoke without preamble.
“Myrine tells me you’re on your way to the Grand Canyon. When you get there,
there’s somebody I need you to speak to.”

The quizzical looks on both Han and Jackie’s faces expressed
Carter’s own feelings perfectly. Although Director Finley had started the Omega
Group, in the twelve years since, he rarely got involved in the day-to-day
operations of a mission. He provided cleanup services as necessary, paved the
way for them to get whatever backup they might need from the military, and
oversaw the preternatural prison facility nicknamed “Finley’s Basement.” But he
didn’t give orders during an operation and never called the operatives.

“DARPA’s got a top secret MDS research facility located on
the north side of the canyon,” Director Finley continued. “It’s headed up by General
Eryk Persaud. If anything weird is happening in the area, he’ll be able to lend
a hand.”

Carter sent a questioning look to his team. When all he got
in return were shrugs, he asked, “I’m not familiar with MDS, sir. What are they
researching?”

“It stands for Metabolically Dominant Soldier. Think
‘Captain America’ with high-tech gadgets.”

“You’re serious? They’ve got a super soldier program at the
Grand Canyon? Maybe that’s what’s causing the anomalies in the area.”

“That was my thought at first, too, but General Persaud
assures me there’s nothing going on at his facility that would cause auras, and
nothing that would affect civilians. He’s willing to open his doors to you to
prove it. His guys will be waiting for you at the airport to take you in. Good
luck.” A click on the line signified that the conversation was over.

Han shook his head, lips quirked in a disbelieving grin.
 “Captain America? Really? I thought that stuff was just in the movies.”

Jackie laughed. “This coming from the guy who can walk through
walls.”

“Touché.” Han turned to Carter. “Are you ready for this?”

With a smirk, Carter said, “As I’ll ever be.”

When they exited the plane, Carter was hit with a blistering
wave of heat. He couldn’t understand why people always said a dry heat was
better. An oven has dry heat, and the meat that came out of one never looked
happy about the lack of humidity. Dressed in loose jeans and a button-down
shirt, he immediately wished he’d chosen something lighter.

The stairs leading from the jet wobbled as Carter stepped
onto them, and he grabbed the railing to keep from tumbling down to the tarmac.
He felt the searing heat of the bullet as it skimmed past his skull and lodged
into the fuselage.
Shit.
“Shooter!” he yelled while unholstering his Glock.
He flipped himself over the rail and dropped to the ground, pressing his back
to the plane and using the stairs as cover.

Although in the movies the hero always remained calm and
cool while under fire, reality was a completely different story. The fight-or-flight
response, ingrained in the DNA of every human being since the dawn of man, took
over whether it was welcome or not. Carter could feel his heart rate accelerate
as the adrenaline surged through him. He kept his breathing even and his mind
focused through sheer force of will, not the fictional nerves of steel
Hollywood propagated.

Scanning the area, he searched for any sign of the shooter.
There weren’t many vantage points that would be easily accessible to a man with
a rifle. Though the airport was small, with lighter security than most, it was
still an airport.

The movement was so slight that Carter almost missed it
through the scaffolding of the stairs. A luggage trolley sat abandoned about a
hundred yards off the port wing. Its blue plastic flaps were hanging down over
the sides of each of the three bag carts. A crinkle in the plastic of the first
cart, about a foot from the top, suddenly disappeared as it returned to its
hanging position. Something had been holding it slightly open.

“Han,” Carter kept his voice as low as possible so as to not
alert their attacker. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. You got a bead on him yet?”

“Luggage cart to your left. First cart. Can you draw his
fire?”

“Not a problem.” Han stepped through the doorway of the jet
and casually walked down the stairs. When he reached the tarmac, he paused.
“Maybe he already left.” As if on cue, a bullet pinged off the metal railing
directly behind him. “Guess not. I’ll go left.”

Carter watched as Han ran, bullets flying through him as
though he wasn’t even there.
That is one handy little power
. Carter
always loved being able to shape-shift into a wolf, but Han’s ability to change
his molecular structure in order to pass through solid objects and, as in this
case, have solid objects pass through him, definitely made some things a lot
easier.

While the shooter was busy targeting Han, undoubtedly
questioning his abilities and aim, Carter sprinted to the front of the cart.
The rifle’s muzzle protruded a good eight inches, so he knew exactly where the
man holding it was positioned. Without making a sound, he stepped to the
back side
. Jackie, who’d used Han’s diversion to join him,
stood to one side of the cart while he took the other. At Carter’s nod, she
yanked back the plastic. The shooting stopped immediately and the rifle fell to
the ground as Carter pressed the business end of his Glock to the man’s ear.

Carter took in every detail of the man crouched in front of
him. He was Native American with black hair tied in a ponytail that reached his
waist. A crescent-shaped scar trailed down from the corner of his right eye.
“So, is this one of those
‘I’ve had a really bad week so I’m going to go
shoot some random people’
things? Or were you looking specifically to ruin
our day?”

The shooter’s cold stare, tinged with more than a little
hatred,
told
Carter everything he needed to know. “Who
sent you?”

Still no response.

“All right, then. Get on the jet.” Carter grabbed the man’s
elbow and hauled him from the cart. “Let me tell you how this is going to go
down. Normally, I’d ask you a bunch of questions. Of course you wouldn’t answer
any of them because you’re too stupid.” The man continued to stare. “Yep, the
stupid ones always try the stare. Anyway, like I was saying, we’d go through
all the usual paces and get pretty much nowhere. Other than me and my friends
here enjoying every minute of kicking your ass.

“But, because we have people to see and places to go, I’m
going to skip all that and send you back east on that jet over there. It’s
quite a nice ride actually, other than the new bullet holes messing with the
paint job. You’ll pay for that, by the way. So, after spending a four-hour trip
in shackles, you’ll be taken to Finley’s Basement. Ever heard of it? No? Don’t
worry. No one has—ever. That’s the secret prison where we keep all the
super-talented bad guys that are just too much for a regular prison to handle.”

The man made no comment. Carter watched the shooter’s eyes
as he spoke, waiting for the telltale signs of fear. So far, nothing.
Time
to kick it up a notch
.

“And when I say super-talented, I mean it. Hell, I’m
Havasupai and those guys make me look like a Chia pet.”

There it is.
It was obvious that this guy knew, and
believed, the Havasupai legends because his eyes widened ever so slightly, then
focused on the ground.

The sound of a chopper approaching halted their one-sided
conversation. Both Carter and Jackie looked to the sky, momentarily distracted
by the interruption. That moment was all it took. The man shoved Jackie into Carter’s
chest, sending them both toppling to the ground.

Then the unexpected happened. One minute the man was running
away as fast as his two feet would take him. The next, his two feet were
replaced by four paws, and his speed increased exponentially. Jackie raised her
weapon and fired, but the impact had virtually no effect. Within seconds, the
shooter was safely in the woods that surrounded the airport.

“Well, that’s new,” Han said as he caught up to them. “I
didn’t know your people could shift into bears, too.”

Carter stared off into the woods, his brain trying to catch
up with what his eyes had just seen. “We can’t.”

To
purchase the next installment in the Omega Group series, click below.

Rogue (Book 2)