Hawk's Revenge: Lone Pine Pride, Book 3 (10 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The room reminded her sharply of the Organization board room where Mr. Washington had first threatened the Hawk. High windows flanked by long drapes and a massive conference table dominated the room. Around the table, nearly a dozen large men and a handful of Amazonian women eyed Rachel as she followed the Alpha’s mate into the room.

Patch made a beeline for an empty chair next to the largest man in the room—a big blond behemoth with muscles on top of his muscles and a carefully blank expression. He reached out to brush a hand along Patch’s arm as she took the seat at his side—the gesture automatic and quietly possessive.

Two chairs remained empty, at the end of the table farthest from the door. Adrian nudged the small of her back gently, prodding her into the room, and Rachel began the long walk in front of all those curious stares.

“Dr. Russell,” the big man said as she crossed the room. “Welcome to Lone Pine Pride.”

Apparently they were pretending she was a guest now. Rachel smiled graciously, manners rising to the fore, and slid into the chair Adrian held for her. “Thank you. It’s good to be here.”

“I’m Roman Jaeger, Alpha here. This is my mate, Patch. And these are our lieutenants—Xander, Grace, Kye, Hugo…”

The names continued, a barrage she couldn’t hope to remember as he named the fifteen men and women around the table in rapid succession—though she recognized the golden Grace, who watched her with a small half-smile, her gaze occasionally flicking to Adrian. Because she was sleeping with him?

“Has Adrian explained what we are asking of you?”

Rachel pulled herself out of her jealousy, focusing on the moment at hand. “Somewhat. You’d like me to tell you everything I know about the Organization.”

“We would.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have as much intel as we both might wish. I was never in the inner circle, and these last few months they kept all but the most necessary information well out of my reach.”

“I expect you know more than you think you do,” Roman remarked. “And all of it is more than we have right now. Why don’t we start with what you did for them?”

There was a click to her left. The young boy-band one, Mateo—still pretty even looking ragged with dark circles under his eyes—had just activated a voice recorder.

Rachel squirmed, remembering Adrian’s reaction when she’d first told him that the Organization was attempting a breeding program. But if anyone had a right to know, it was these shifters.

“I’m a reproductive specialist,” she said, pressing on quickly and keeping her eyes on the Alpha to avoid seeing as many of the unpleasant reactions as she could. “I was initially brought in because of my record with couples struggling with fertility. When I was recruited, they explained about shifters and told me they faced unique fertility issues. I was told that because of the necessary secrecy such special patients required, that I would not have much if any direct contact with them. It was unusual for me to be working strictly in the lab, fertilizing embryos for in vitro without patient interaction, but the science was fascinating and I thought I was helping people.”

She’d been seduced by her fascination. The conversations she’d had with the other scientists about the seeming magic of shifter science had stimulated her brain in ways she’d never experienced. How did a human form transform into something with more or less mass? What was the catalyst? Where did the energy for the transformation come from? Where did the excess matter
go
? So many questions—and they didn’t even brush the surface. Her own work had consumed her. She’d practically lived at the lab.

“It was months before I met my first patient and realized things weren’t entirely on the level. When I threatened to expose them, they threatened my mother. My father had just passed away and she was in such a delicate state. She passed away a few months later and I considered leaving again, but they’re very good at disappearing people and they don’t hesitate to remind their employees of that if we think about stepping out of line. When they told me no one would miss me, I realized they were right. With my family gone, I was in a vulnerable position, but if I stayed I thought I could do some good. So I pretended to be a team player. I did everything they asked and earned more contact with more shifters. I ingratiated myself to other employees, making contacts who would later be able to help me when I started smuggling shifters out.”

“You learned how their Organization was structured.”

“As much as I was able to. They’re obsessed with secrecy. Most employees only know what is going on with their little piece of the Organization, but their records are meticulous. I knew I couldn’t get anyone out unless I had access to the records and could change their status. I was based out of a rural Nevada A Block facility, but when I gave the appearance of being a team player, they started having me travel between the sites. I had access to more shifters, but it would look too suspicious if all the disappearances could all be traced back to me, so we stole codes to falsify the records. Deleting the files raised too many red flags, but changing a shifter’s status to deceased? Anyone with a medical passcode could do that.”

Several shifters leaned forward suddenly, but it was the Alpha’s mate who spoke. “So when you helped a shifter escape, they were listed in that roster you got us as deceased? Not all of those shifters are dead?”

“Not all of them. All told we got one hundred and fifty-two out.”

Murmurs rippled around the table. “And you remember which ones,” Patch pressed, all but crawling on the table now. “You know their names.”

“All of them.”

“Dorian Fontaine. Was one of them Dorian Fontaine?”

Rachel’s heart plummeted as she matched the name to the one Adrian had given as Patch’s surname downstairs. Brother, father—whoever Dorian Fontaine was, he meant a great deal to the Alpha’s mate. “I’m sorry. He wasn’t one of mine.”

Patch lurched back as if struck, blinking furiously. “No. Of course not.” Roman reached over and laced their fingers together, his mate gripping his hand with both of hers as if he was a lifeline. Rachel envied them that. She’d never had a lifeline.

“What about Cari, Caridad Amador?”

Rachel gasped, her head whipping toward the softly spoken words.
That
name she recognized. That name, thank God, she could report on with less heartbreaking news. “Yes! Yes, we got her out.”

Mateo, the tech-savvy young man with the boy-band pretty face, broke down, bowing his head and covering his face with one hand, shoulders shaking.

Suddenly Adrian was in her space, his lips right against her ear. “You wouldn’t lie to Mateo, would you? To try to gain favor? I don’t remember any Caridad.”

“She was after you were…incapacitated,” she whispered back. “There was a coyote from New Mexico, one of the first shifters we got out, he met us and took her south.”

“Can you give us the names of all the shifters your group freed?” Roman spoke, forcing Adrian to lean back. Even when he was stiff with suspicion, she missed his warmth along her arm.

“I think so. It may take me a while to compile a complete list.”

“Understandable.” Roman’s thumb continued to rub circles on his mate’s. “Some of those one hundred and fifty-two are here, Dr. Russell. We’re very grateful for all you managed to do. A one-woman task force against the Organization.”

Tell that to the Hawk.
“It wasn’t one woman. I had help. And anyone in my position would have done the same.”

“No. Few would have even attempted half of what you did, let alone accomplished as much. We’re in your debt.” Roman caught Adrian’s eye and gave a slight nod. “But we’re also responsible for too many lives to ignore the fact that you were with the Organization for a long time. I’m afraid for the time being, our gratitude must be tempered by caution.”

One of the lieutenants spoke, a heavy-set bearded man with thick brown hair just going to silver who couldn’t have looked more bear-like if he tried. “What more can you tell us about the Organization’s operations?”

“They target isolated shifters. Those who won’t be missed. I was only involved in an acquisition one time—” She studiously avoided looking at Adrian, “—so I can’t provide much insight into that side of things. I do know that once they are acquired they are assigned to one of four blocks. The A Blocks, where I worked, were for biological research. B Blocks were for psychological or social experiments. The C Blocks…” She cleared her throat, forcing herself to meet the Alpha’s eyes. “They were for information gathering. Torture, mostly. And the D Blocks are for detainment and disposal—typically where shifters are sent to die after they are of no use to the other three blocks anymore.”

“Those blocks,” another lieutenant asked, lifting a hand to catch her attention. “Do they relate to the location codes in the rosters?”

She nodded. “The first four digits of the code are the building, and the rest of the code is the location within the building.”

“But none of the buildings on the schematics you gave us have codes,” Mateo argued, his eyes now dry.

“They’re hidden in the addresses. A Blocks are Avenues, Bs Places, Cs Circles, and Ds are Ways. The first letter of the street name and the last number of the address are the rest of the code. So 785 Monroe Way would be D Blocks and M is the thirteenth letter, so it’s D135. The Organization makes sure they’re private roads so if they want to repurpose a building, they simply change the name of the access road.”

Mateo groaned, closing his eyes. “I’m an idiot. We didn’t analyze the street addresses.”

Grace bumped his elbow with hers. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re one person. And that’s convoluted shit.”

Mateo didn’t respond, he was already bent over his tablet, scrolling through a list of some kind. “What are Lanes?” he asked.

Rachel blinked. “There are Lanes?” The Organization had an entire class of buildings she didn’t know about.

Roman leaned forward. “Mateo, can you use the roster to determine where the highest concentration of shifters are being held? That could help us decide where to strike next.”

“The ones in the D Blocks are at the highest risk,” Rachel said. “Some of the guards would joke that D was for deceased.”

Roman gave a sharp nod, turning back to Mateo. “Start with the D Blocks.”

Mateo rose with a crisp nod and slipped out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the other lieutenants piped up with questions, grilling her about everything she knew and a dozen things she didn’t know about how the Organization worked.

She told them how the Board of Directors used fake names—Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Washington, Mr. Wilson—and how they were constantly on the move. How even the tech guru who had helped Rachel compile the hard drives hadn’t been able to locate a central headquarters and each cell operated independent of the others, orders funneling down through the supervisors and managers who traveled from site to site. She described a handful of those managers—including Madison Clarke—but she didn’t have much hope that they would be able to capture any of them. Organization members at that level were all true believers. They wouldn’t let themselves be taken alive.

The interrogation lasted for hours, some of the shifters excusing themselves and others coming in to take the empty chairs. Food was brought in, but Rachel barely picked at it, her appetite nonexistent. She felt like her brain had been run through a meat grinder by the time Adrian—who had been silent all day—finally spoke up.

“Enough.”

Roman started to protest, but Adrian held his eyes, a tacit challenge that made several of the shifters around the table stir uncomfortably.

“She’ll still be here tomorrow. That’s enough for today,” Adrian insisted.

As grateful—and confused—as Rachel was for the intervention, there was one question she had yet to be asked. “Wait, you have Organization prisoners, right? From the lab where you found me?”

Suddenly everyone at the table was very, very quiet. “Why do you ask?” Roman inquired, the words stretching.

“Some of the people who work for the Organization are monsters, I don’t deny that, but some are good people. I can help you separate one from the other. I know many of them—”

“Which is why you won’t be allowed anywhere near them,” Roman said, with a sympathetic grimace. “Sorry, Dr. Russell. Caution before gratitude.”

“Come on.” Adrian rose, holding out his hand for her when she would have argued.

She was exhausted. And just like the questions they still had for her, it was an argument that would wait for another day. Taking the hand he’d offered, she let him tug her to her feet and guide her out of the room as the pride’s lieutenants fell to arguing about what she had been able to tell them.

“They aren’t all bad,” she said quietly to Adrian as they descended the
Gone with the Wind
staircase.

“Maybe not,” he acknowledged. “But you don’t get to sort them out.”

He helped her into her coat and opened the door, holding it for her as she stepped out onto the front steps. The sun had set while she was inside being interrogated and the pride spread out below her in the cozy glow of yellow light bleeding out of windows and lining the pathways. It was lovely. Peaceful and domestic in a way she’d never associated with the animalistic shifters.

Adrian withdrew a length of black scarf from his pocket. She groaned.

“I’m exhausted, it’s dark, and I have the world’s worst sense of direction. Is that really necessary?”

“Caution before gratitude.”

“That’s going to be your excuse whenever you want to get your way, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much. Turn around.”

She gave him her back and he looped the scarf over her eyes, securing it with quick, deft tugs. Within seconds he was leading her down the steps and through the pride again, and back into the forest. It was strangely relaxing, relying on his eyes. His night vision was far better than hers anyway and she had more faith in his ability to keep her from falling than she did in her own, as tired as she was. She still trusted him completely—even if he couldn’t return the sentiment.