Megan's Mark (3 page)

For the first time in her life, the emotions of others, the frustrations, fears and angers of those around her weren’t flooding her brain. Only the need to survive.

“Settle down. The cavalry’s here. Or a version of it, anyway.” His soft laughter did nothing to still the rush of fear and the instinctive need to fight.

“Can you extract?” She was only distantly aware of Lance barking the question into the headset.

“Can and will, if she would stop fighting me like a little wildcat.” She was lifted off her feet as the dark male voice deepened. “You have a claim on her, Jacobs? I think I might like to keep her.”

Keep her? What the hell, was she a trophy now? She grunted as she tried to elbow him again, fought to throw him off balance.

“Get her the hell out of there. You want to risk the second, it’s your head. We’re on our way.”

“Let me go.” Satisfaction filled her when she finally managed to land a blow that caused him to tense, his hold weakening enough for her to tear away and turn on him.

Dark amber eyes stared back at her, the color intensifying in the shadowed expanse of the cavern.

Calm. It wrapped around her, soothing the ragged edge of her own nerves as it forced her to center herself.

“If you’re going to shoot, hurry up and do it.” A growl seemed to linger in his voice as white teeth flashed in a sun-darkened face. “Otherwise, we’re going to be hamburger meat if we don’t get to my Raider before they get to us.”

She could hear the voices outside the cavern now. Obviously more than one, and getting closer.

She lowered her gun, breathing harshly as control slowly returned.

“I don’t think I like you,” she snapped as he turned and began leading the way through a dark, nearly hidden crevice in the rock wall, the kind often formed when one of the tributaries of water cracked through the weaker portions of the caverns. It was barely wide enough to make their way through, deep and dark, stifling hot. Its confines wrapped the scent of man around her rather than death.

And oh boy, did he smell good. Dark and male, and like the land itself, hot and hard and rich with life. She liked that smell. Too damned much. Because suddenly it wasn’t the danger following them that filled her; rather, it was the scent of the man ahead of her and the sensual forks of sensation it sent careening through her body. He made her think of sex.

“Good. Conflict just makes life more interesting.”

He was insane. She loved it. She could feel her heartbeat racing with the danger, adrenaline heightening her senses, surging through her with a natural high that almost made her giddy.

They moved quickly and within minutes the slender threads of sunlight began lighting their way.

“We’re out,” Braden announced as they moved through the entrance and ran to his Raider parked just in front of it.

“We’re on our way,” Lance replied. “Get her out of there…”

“No!” She turned on the brawny, wild creature that jumped into the driver’s side of the Raider as she turned in the passenger’s seat.

For whatever reason she could no longer feel the rage, the need to kill, the terror and the fear that had echoed from the valley. With the arrival of this man, and the calm that seemed to reach out from him like a shield that blocked those jarring emotions, she was centered once again.

“I can do this.” She needed to fight. To prove to herself she could. “We can’t afford to let them get away. They killed, and they were waiting for me. We need to know why.”

He turned, his oddly colored eyes reflecting amused approval as a crooked grin tilted his hard, sensual lips.

“Let’s get them then…”

“Hell no,” Lance all but screamed then. “Damn you, Braden, get her the hell out of there.”

She continued to watch Braden as he looped a length of leather around his long, tawny-gold hair and tied it at his nape.

“Megan Fields.” She extended her hand as excitement poured through her.

“Braden Arness.” His grip was strong, firm. It sent a pulse of energy whipping through her arm, echoing along her body. But there were none of the riotous emotions coming from him that she felt from others. Emotions that normally left her drained, unable to think clearly. She felt the remnants of the earlier violence dissipating, the horror of a death not her own easing, as though the calm he projected extended to those around him.

“Braden, she’s not experienced enough. Get her back to Control,” Lance ordered again. “We can handle this.”

Braden’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. Casually he disconnected reception by flipping the mic up while his eyes stared into hers.

“Do you like to live dangerously?” His eyelids lowered, a hungry, almost sexual expression crossing his face.

A smile trembled on her lips as she flipped her mic back as well. “I live for it.”

Braden turned in his seat, revved the Raider’s powerful motor and took off. No seat belts, no word of warning as he turned the wheel sharply, sending the Raider skidding along the sandy ground as it headed back toward the gully.

“Wheel protectors and bullet shield engaged.” She activated the security settings before checking her weapon and lowering the window at her side.

The bullets would clear the security field with no problem, but anything shot into it would explode harmlessly before touching the vehicle. Most of the time, anyway.

“Wrong weapon.”

Megan turned, her eyes widening as Braden reached to the floorboard between the bucket seats and pulled an automatic, laser-guided rifle forward. “Try this one.”

Illegal to the max.

She loved it.

She opened her mind to the calm that reached out from him, centering on it, letting it merge with her own fragile shields and finding it easier than she could have imagined as she tested the weight of the weapon he handed her.

The trim-line, fully automatic laser-guided rifle fired a deadly accurate blast that left a hole in a man the size of the Grand Canyon.

As with the man, even the weapons he owned carried no residue of violence or rage. They were tools, nothing more.

“Dead men don’t shoot back, sweetheart,” he reminded her as she cast him a gimlet stare.

“Lance will shoot us both.” She grimed in delight.

“Yeah, but his bullets don’t kill.” He grunted. “Damned police-issue crap. What happened to the good ole days?”

She turned. bracing the rifle’s barrel on the window as they sped around the curve into the gully where her own Raider sat. Gunfire blasted against their shields.

“Three o’clock.” He yelled out the position. “Give ‘em hell.”

Her finger tightened on the trigger as she further braced the rifle against her shoulder, allowing the weapon to pound against her as she held the trigger back and sliced an arrow of death through the gully wall.

Bullets ricocheted off the shield as they passed, a second before she saw the first body fall.

“One down.” She let off the trigger, throwing herself against the seat as Braden threw the vehicle into another turn for the second pass.

“Second one is on the run. There he is.” Rather than pulling up the heat-seeking radar on the windshield, he pointed to where a shadow moved along a crevice at the top of the wall. “Are you going to wound or wipe?” Kill or capture.

“Wound. I want answers.” She pulled her own weapon free. “Let’s roll.”

Exhilaration pumped through her as the tires bit into the ground and the vehicle shot down the expanse of the gully.

She aimed, watching the laser sight on the weapon carefully.

“Get your eyes off that damned light.” Braden snarled. “Use your gut. Let it tell you when to shoot. Those laser guides are for sissies.”

She licked her dry lips nervously, took a deep breath and watched the assailant as he ran. She lifted the weapon a bit higher than the sight called for, letting her senses explode, reaching out to the weapon as her Navajo grandfather had taught her to rather than depending on the sights as her training had.

She fired the first shot, cursing silently as the bullet bounced away harmlessly just above her target’s head.

Quickly adjusting, she fired again, twice in rapid succession, and watched with a sense of satisfaction as the sniper shooting at her fell.

“Get ready.” The Raider turned, slammed to a stop, and Braden exploded from the vehicle to secure him.

“Dammit, that was dirty pool.” Megan raced out behind him. “I took him down, I get to cuff him.”

A roar exploded from Braden’s throat as he struggled with the assailant, who was growling with feral intensity. She stood back in shock, horrified as she watched the curved fangs flash at the side of the assailant’s mouth a second before they sank into Braden’s shoulder.

Braden’s fist slammed into the side of his head, a furious roar leaving his chest as wicked, long canines were revealed by the animalistic snarl on his lips.

They were both Breeds.

Suddenly, the man who had been her co-conspirator in adventure was a primal, unknown threat. Discounting the fact that Braden seemed to know Lance, she couldn’t be certain that even her cousin knew the man she faced now.

Shock transfixed her as she backed away, eyes wide, weapon raised. Braden’s fist landed in the undefended underbelly of the shooter, taking his breath before Braden landed another hard blow to the face and then delivered an incapacitating strike to the vulnerable neck.

It was powerful enough to knock the other man unconscious. Powerful enough to send a pulse of terror pounding through her as she flipped her mic down. She reactivated he receiver at her ear as she leveled her weapon on Braden. He was powerful enough that the next blow he was drawing back for might very well kill the only thing alive capable of telling her what had happened here.

“Step away from him,” she ordered, raising her voice above the animalistic growl rumbling from his chest. It would have been sexy if it didn’t sound so damned dangerous. “Now.”

She couldn’t afford to trust him. She couldn’t sense Braden, couldn’t read him as she could others. And suddenly, she wasn’t so certain that he wasn’t the enemy as well.

“Megan? Megan? Is that you? Thank God!” Lance was screaming in her ear. “We’re headed your way in a private chopper, ETA five minutes. What’s your situation?”

She ignored his frantic questions.

“I thought you liked to live dangerously?” The canines flashed again as a growl rumbled from Braden’s chest and he began to walk toward her.

Megan fired at his feet, causing him to come to a dead stop as he stared back at her in surprise. His brow lifted mockingly.

“I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you,” she warned him firmly.

He flipped his mic down.

“Lance, your girl doesn’t want to believe I’m one of the 1 good guys. Reassure her, huh?”

Braden was laughing. The son of a bitch was staring at her and laughing. No anger, no rage, no desire for retaliation against her. “Sometime before she puts a hole in my toe.” She aimed higher. “Or somewhere more important.”

She felt his amusement. It eased around her like a caress as she breathed in deeply, forcing herself to release the edge of calm she had allowed herself to tap into. His calm.

“Do you two think this is fun and games time?” Lance was screaming as the sound of the chopper coming in from the distance could be heard. “Megan, if you shoot him, I’m going to tan your hide for sure. You’ll never get out of booking. Do you hear me? Pull back, dammit.”

She kept her gun leveled on him. Fine, Lance trusted him, but did her cousin know who and what they were dealing with here?

“The situation here is contained,” she reported. “But I think I’ll play it a bit safe and keep Puss in Boots in my sights until you get here.”

Braden’s eyes narrowed at the nickname as silence filled the receiver, confirming her suspicion that he was indeed a Lion Breed. Coyote fangs held a hard curve; the Lion Breeds’ were straighter. He might not be the enemy, but he wasn’t exactly safe either.

Lance groaned a second later. “Megan, sweetheart, you are digging yourself into a hole you won’t be able to pull yourself out of here.”

If the way Cat-boy was looking at her was any indication, she already had. Anger swirled in the golden depths of his eyes as he flipped the mic up and crossed his arms over his impressively broad chest.

She didn’t feel the anger though. It wasn’t whipping at her head, shredding her nerves. It was contained within him. Damn, she really could have grown to like him. Maybe.

“You do like to live dangerously then.” The rough timbre of his voice sent a chill up her spine. “Next time, I’ll let you tangle with the Coyotes and I’ll find a nice place to sit and watch.”

“Yeah, you do that.” She refused to let the gun waver so much as an inch.

She could feel the tension in the air, despite his apparent casual stance. He was waiting on an opening, watching her for a weakness. And she could feel it, feel his readiness consuming her, pounding through her blood.

It was exciting rather than painful. Exhilarating when it should have been terrifying.

He shook his head in mock sadness, the deceptively lazy stance of his powerful body almost deceiving her into relaxing her guard. Jeans loosely molded his powerful thighs, a gray T-shirt hugged his broad chest. He was a walking sex machine and the glitter of his unusual eyes showed her he knew it.

“We were making a great team.” He sighed as the sound of the helicopter grew louder. “It’s too bad, Megan. I was finally starting to have fun.”

He jumped for her. Damn. No warning, no thought, no impression of what he was going to do before he did it. He just did it.

The gun flew from her hand as she hit the ground, the breath whooshing from her body as his heavier length covered her, heated her.

“Later baby.” He nipped her ear before jumping to his feet and racing for his Raider. A second later, dust enveloped her as he sped through the gully and disappeared around a bend. The sound of the helicopter grew closer.

Geez, could this day get much worse?

Washington D.C.

Senator Macken Cooley frowned in displeasure as the cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket, forcing him to take his attention from the statutes of Breed Law he was currently reviewing. The mandates that governed the new species and gave them their special rights were a thorn in his side. They were creatures. They weren’t animal or human; they deserved no rights.