Savage Hunger: Savage, Book 1 (4 page)

Wanting nothing more than to check on Sienna, Warrick resisted the instinctive urge and turned away to tranquilize the rest of the shifters. But each shot he took resonated in his head that he’d just failed her in a big fucking way to let the shifter get that close.

He’d cuffed her thinking she’d be safe and out of the way from the shifters; instead he’d made her a sitting duck for the attack. The sound of her scream, sharp with terror, still resounded in his head. His stomach clenched and bile rose in his throat as he shot another shifter.

A few minutes passed before the final two hostages were tranquilized, then loaded and secured in the van. Only after that was completed did he turn and approach Sienna.

Her eyes were squinted, a red handprint marred her cheek and she hadn’t wiped away a trickle of blood from her bottom lip.

“Sienna.” He touched her cheek with a gentle hand, but she flinched and pulled away.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Larson muttered and climbed behind the wheel, casting a narrowed glance at Sienna. “She all right?”

No
. Warrick’s jaw hardened. Physically she would survive and that’s all that Larson was asking right now.

“Yeah. She’s all right,” he muttered gruffly and reached up to unlock the cuff that he’d attached to the van.

Sienna’s hand fell limply to her side and she made no effort to open her eyes or look at him. With a silent curse, Warrick removed the cuff from her wrist and then lifted her onto his lap, not trusting her in the back in case the tranquilizers wore off early.

Her head fell against his chest, and she sucked in a shuddering breath that cut straight to his heart.

Catching her jaw in a light grasp, he muttered, “Let me see.”

He turned her head so he could get a good look. She didn’t resist, and he noted her eyes were wide and glossy with shock. Her skin felt cold as he used his thumb to brush away the small drop of blood near her lip. Anger flared in his gut, but this time it was as much directed at himself as it was the shifter who’d decked her.

“Sorry, kid,” he said quietly and adjusted her on his lap, pulling her upper body back against his chest.

She stiffened, but after a moment her head fell to his shoulder and she let out a small whimper. A familiar surge of protectiveness slammed into him, the same one he’d felt since they were kids and that had only seemed to intensify as years went by.

Warrick glanced over the seats to check on the unconscious occupants they had in their van. Behind them, in the second van, Agents Hilliard and Rafferty were settling in with the other half of the load.

“I’m going to need a drink the minute we get to the safe house,” Larson muttered, pulling away from the building, lights out on the van.

Warrick grunted. “How far is it?”

“Couple hours at least. And I’ve got a feeling it won’t be a damn picnic when those guys wake up.”

No kidding.

Warrick pushed a strand of hair off Sienna’s forehead and resisted the urge to brush his lips against her furrowed brow. Once it had been common for him to hug her, or give her a reassuring kiss on the forehead. But back then it had been a brotherly gesture, and he hadn’t had to think twice about it. Then the day had come when he realized his feelings for Sienna weren’t quite of the sibling variety. That’s about when he’d run like hell.

He hadn’t spoken to her brother for at least a year, since Daniel had deployed to Afghanistan. Their only contact had been through scattered e-mails, occasional phone calls, and even then, talk about Sienna had been minimal.

They’d always tried to keep Sienna out of trouble when they were kids, because she was notorious for finding it. And tonight proved to be no exception.

When had she discovered the existence of the shifters? And how long had she known what was going on in that run-down lab? Worse yet, how deeply was she involved?

He closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to shake the frustration and unease in his gut.

Two hours later, close to midnight, they traveled on a small highway in central Oregon. Warrick glanced down at Sienna, who’d pulled away from him shortly after they’d set off, now sitting rigidly on his lap. Her eyes were open as she stared out the window of the van, but he got the impression she wasn’t really interested in the darkened landscape. She must’ve sensed his gaze on her.

“Where are we going?”

The less she knew the better.
“To a safe house.”

She stiffened and he knew she fought for control of her temper. “Yes, I heard that part earlier. Can you tell me where?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis.”

“Great,” she said sarcastically. “I need to know.”

From the driver’s seat, Larson laughed, then smothered it with a cough.

Sienna narrowed her eyes at the other man and tried to lean forward, but Warrick kept his arm around her rib cage, not letting her move too far. He didn’t think she’d do anything crazy like jump from a moving van, but why take that chance?

“Please, you look like a reasonable guy. Can’t you just drop me off somewhere?” she pleaded to the commander of the op.

Larson turned his gaze away from the road and stared at Sienna, his gaze calculating, cold. “She say anything yet?”

Still on his lap, Sienna’s body went rigid, and Warrick could almost smell the fear rippling through her blood.

“Not yet,” he murmured and touched a strand of hair that he’d pulled loose earlier from the twist atop her head. Yeah. Sienna was hiding something. “But she will.”

She inhaled sharply and her breast brushed the curve of his arm. The muscles of Warrick’s stomach clenched as his gaze unconsciously lowered to the pale curve of her cleavage above the dress.

Shit
. It took everything in his power not to slide his hand up to touch her.
Get some control, buddy
.
She’s off limits. Just as much now as she was six years ago.

Sienna didn’t back down from questioning Larson. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing right now is kidnapping?”

“We’d never be charged.” Larson’s confidence was merited. “Tonight you were somewhere you obviously shouldn’t have been, lady. You’ve got some explaining to do. Questions to answer.”

“Is that why you’re forcing me along for this little joyride across the state? I already told Warrick that I don’t know anything.”

Larson gave a sharp laugh. “Right. And I’m the fucking president of the United States.”

Sienna made a noise of frustration and twisted her body in Warrick’s lap to face away from Larson. Her ass brushed against his dick and he exhaled on a hiss.

“Dammit, Sienna, can you
try
and sit still?”

She blinked in surprise, her gaze flickering with hurt, before she pressed her lips together and looked through the passenger-side window.

Shit.
Warrick flexed his jaw and bit back a sigh. Could he have come across as more of an asshole? But with Sienna this close to him, it was like having his hand in the candy jar then being told no.

Larson cleared his throat. “We’ll be arriving at the safe house in a few minutes.”

Warrick nodded. “The shifters will probably be out for at least another few hours. Have we thought of where we’ll put them?”

“The safe house is on a ranch and we’ll have access to a barn. We’ll keep them in there until we can, shit, I don’t know, figure out what the hell is wrong with them.”

Warrick grunted in agreement. The shifters had been given something potent, something unlike anything any of them was familiar with. Something they couldn’t even begin to fight until they figured out what it was. They’d gotten them away from whatever was being put in their system, but who knew how lasting the effects would be?

The van turned off the main road, and the only light came from their headlights bouncing on the dirt road and the full moon above.

Sienna folded her arms across her chest and shivered. “So where are we? The middle of nowhere?”

Warrick smiled grimly and murmured an uninformative, “Basically.”

The van slowed down and a few minutes later came to a stop in front of a large, old-fashioned-looking farmhouse. Warrick unbuckled them, and then reached around Sienna and pulled the handle on the door, pushing it open. A rush of cold air chilled him through his clothing.

“About time.” Sienna slid off his lap and onto the ground. She shivered in her party dress and rubbed her bare arms as she walked quickly toward the front door.

Warrick’s lips quirked with relief to see some of her spirit returning. He followed her out of the van and was met by a choir of crickets singing. The smell of an earlier rain filled the air, along with cow manure and hay. The general smell of the country. The stars and moon cast shadows around the ranch, but Warrick still got a pretty good idea of the layout.

In the beam of the headlights, Warrick watched Sienna walk toward the house and raise her arms above her head and stretch. With her hair tousled and her fancy dress wrinkled, she looked surreal in the moonlight. Dangerously beautiful and almost mystical. His throat closed at the sensual image she made.

Larson handed Warrick a bag and the keys to the house. “Take the girl inside. Me and the other guys will start dealing with the shifters, and you come out and join us when you’re done.”

“All right. What’s the floor plan? Is it possible… I would like to talk to Sienna somewhere with a little bit of privacy.”

Larson snorted, glancing over Warrick’s shoulder to where Sienna stood near the door to the house, but was too far away to overhear their conversation. “Yeah, I just bet you do.”

Warrick’s jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. “It’s not like that, Larson. You know I don’t want to screw up in the eyes of the P.I.A.”

“I know that.” Larson’s expression sobered. “You’re a good agent, Donovan. You need to let that shit go. You’re not your father.”

Warrick gave a slight nod, acknowledging the comment without emotion, even as everything inside him went taut and screamed with frustration. No. He wasn’t his father. And thank God for that. Bitterness rose in his throat and he swallowed it, blocking out the sudden memory of his father and the stigma Warrick had been left to fight. A stigma he continued to fight.

The need to prove himself was constant, his ability not to fuck up, something he prided himself on. He couldn’t—wouldn’t start now.

Larson had always been a close friend, they’d known each other even before either of them had enrolled in the agency. Their friendship had only grown tighter as they’d worked together. Warrick respected Larson’s opinion and the authority that he held inside and outside the agency.

Larson shook his head. “I’m not sure we should’ve brought her with us.”

“We couldn’t leave her. You know that. Not with what she’s seen.” Warrick paused. “Or who she is. She’s Kevin Peters’s daughter.”

Larson’s eyes flickered with understanding and a bit of calculation. “Interesting. What was she doing there?”

“She’s an employee of Feloray Laboratories.”

“Hmm. That’s a definite strike against her.”

Warrick’s mouth tightened. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Think she’s involved?”

“I fucking hope not,” he muttered grimly, every muscle in his body tightening with the possibility.

“Warrick?” Sienna stepped toward them, impatience on her face. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Larson jerked his head to the left. “Get her settled. We can learn more in the morning. In the back of the house there’s a room that’s a bit more isolated—you can both share it. It’s the best I can do unless you want to sleep in the barn with the ferals.”

“Yeah, gonna pass on the barn. Thanks, Larson.”

Larson thrust a hand through his hair and shook his head. “No problem. Just get back out here soon.”

“I’ll only need a few minutes.”

Warrick crossed the lawn to where Sienna waited. She looked exhausted now, and still a little uneasy.

He moved to unlock the door and his thigh brushed her hip, which sent her jerking away. His jaw hardened as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, hitting the light switch. The interior flooded with light and he gestured for Sienna to enter first.

The house was simple. Polished hardwood floors. A living room with a couch, a few modern recliners and a flat-screen television. Off to the right was the kitchen with a big oak table in it. Then there were two hallways that he assumed led to the bedrooms.

“Let’s get you settled.” He turned down the hall. “Follow me.”

The soft click of her heels on the wood floor proved she’d obeyed. Though she called out, “Are you always this bossy?”

“You oughta know.”

She just grunted, but didn’t answer.

He continued down the hallway, barely taking in the generic, schlocky wall art.
These places were like hotels. Enough comfort and familiarity to put you at ease, but they never really made you feel at home.

When they reached the bedroom, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Damn, Larson had really given him the hookup. Warrick had pretty much resigned himself to sleeping on the floor if there was just a twin bed. This room not only had a queen bed, but boasted a small bathroom
en suite
. A fireplace was in the far corner with a large area rug in front.