Turning Payne (4 page)

Turner winced as he entered the Therian Agency control center. The buzzing of monitors and incessant clicking of multiple keyboards made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He breathed in the stuffy air and cringed at the scents that permeated the room. Stale coffee, overheated plastic, combined with the body odor of multiple metamorphs, he grimaced. He'd never understand why anyone, especially a metamorph, would choose a job that required one to be caged in a cement prison, day in and day out.

Jacob Oliver turned from the young woman he'd been speaking with, and trained his gaze on Turner.

Fifteen minutes late. It wasn't unusual, but he knew it drove Jacob bat shit crazy. If the man wasn't more like a brother than a boss, Turner might be nervous by the dark, dominant look the man gave him as he crossed the room.

"Where the hell have you been?"

He shrugged and handed him the file he carried. "Got caught up on the I-80."

Jacob flipped open the case report. His eyes widened as he scanned the pictures Turner and his team had taken of the scene.

"Everything's been taken care of." He sat on the edge of a desk and winked at a petite brunette who walked by. She was attractive, but nothing compared to Riley's exotic beauty. He wiped his hands on his pants and looked back at Jacob. "We ran into a bit of resistance with the local police, but I handled it."

Jacob shut the folder, sighed and dragged a hand over his face. The man was in his early thirties, but already his black hair was streaked with silver, and there were lines around his eyes and mouth that hadn't been there a year before.

Turner glanced at the monitors across the room, one of which broadcasted a live news report from Central Park. "Any word on the New York case? I heard about it this morning on the radio. Did you already send a team?"

Jacob stared vacantly at the closed file. He shook his head and glanced back at Turner. "It's out of my hands. If we attempt to acquire the animal, it would raise too much suspicion."

Turner frowned. "They'll end up putting him in a zoo, or worse, euthanize him. There has to be something we can—"

"The media's all over it." He exhaled roughly. "There's nothing we can do."

"Agent Oliver." Reece Maverick, werebear, and investigative supervisor approached, his face red from the exertion of walking across the room. His large belly pressed against the white fabric of his shirt, straining the buttons.

The stench of onion and bacon tickled Turner's nose. God, he hated it in this dungeon. The smells alone would make him insane.

"What is it?" Jacob asked.

Maverick glared at Turner, then looked back at Jacob before responding. He clutched a manila folder in his meaty fingers. "The progress report, sir."

"Tell me you've got good news."

Maverick gave a sharp nod. "Our geneticists believe they've found a correlation between the victims. According to the DNA analysis, they were all carriers of"—the man paused as if for effect and puffed out his chest—"a recessive metamorph gene."

"Holy shit." Turner grasped the folder Maverick carried, but the man's beefy fingers clamped down. With another insistent tug he pulled it free. He flipped it open and thumbed through the report. The document could have been written in Chinese for all the sense it made to him, but he understood the significance of Maverick's words.
The morphings weren't as random as they originally thought.

Jacob cleared his throat. "Why are we just learning about this now?"

Maverick's face molted red and pink. He reached for the file and Turner let it go, and put his hands up in surrender.

"They've only just identified the gene." Maverick turned his attention back to Jacob. "But from what I understand it's a mutation that only occurs in the offspring of a human and a metamorph."

The victims were all half-breeds. Damn, that complicated things. If Maverick was correct, what did that say about Kiera? About Boyd? It had to be a mistake. He'd studied the victims’ files inside out, only a small handful of them had any relationship to the metamorph community.

"None of the victims had metamorph parents. We would have known if they—"

"Not every metamorph is documented," Maverick said, tucking the folder securely under his arm.

Jacob scrubbed his hands over his face. "We need to inform the Council."

"I realize the implications that this could have, but there are thousands of carriers across the globe, and we've only seen a couple hundred cases of spontaneous morphings, all within a contained geographical location." Maverick lowered his voice and glanced around the room. The sweat from his palm stained the file he held. "There's no sense causing panic until—"

"No." Jacob let out a frustrated breath. "Until we figure out who or what is causing this, every person who carries the gene is at risk. How many of our kind have taken human mates? Every one of their offspring who aren't metamorphs are at risk."

Turner leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He hated to admit it, but he agreed with Maverick. There was no sense alarming people until they had a way to control the situation.

"We don't even know how this thing is spread." A large vein pulsated on Maverick's temple. "If you make it common knowledge, you'll just cause unnecessary fear and we'll have a—"

"They have every reason to fear." Jacob handed Maverick the file of case two-thirty-eight, which contained the photos of the massacred cheetah.

Maverick opened his mouth and then shut it. He winced and looked away. "Point taken, sir, but I still think we need to keep this information classified until we know more."

Turner's mind spun. Boyd was human. A sociopath and psychotic killer, but still human. And his wife had died of cancer—a disease that didn't affect metamorphs. If both Kiera's parents had been human, how had the woman inherited the recessive gene?

It didn't make sense. Was it possible the gene could be passed down through generations? If so, the implications could be catastrophic. It also meant that Riley could also be a carrier.

Turner clenched and unclenched his fists, and forced himself to ignore the sudden threat that had his animal raging inside. He had to get back to Riley. His animal paced within him, and an unnatural urge to protect her wrapped around his heart, until he could barely catch his breath. He had to keep her safe. There was no chance in hell he was going to let her succumb to the same fate as her sister.

"Agent Payne, is there something you'd like to share with us?"

Jacob's deep voice broke through his sense of panic.

Maverick's face distorted in a scowl. "You're more out of it than normal, Payne. What's your problem?"

Maverick was right, he was losing his cool. The woman had turned his brain to mush and if he didn't recover quickly, it would be his ass the agency would wipe the floor with. He needed an excuse, and he needed it quick.

"Sleep deprivation will do that to a person." It wasn't exactly a lie. He gave what he hoped was a cocky-ass grin and looked down his nose at Maverick. "Unlike you, I've actually been working."

Maverick opened his mouth to retort, but Jacob raised his hand to silence him. "Go home and get some rest. I need you back here first thing tomorrow morning."

More fucking paperwork. He ground his teeth together. "I'll be here."

"On time," Jacob warned.

Turner rolled his eyes. Like that would happen. "Right."

Jacob reached out and gripped Turner's arm before he could make a beeline for the door. Thankfully Maverick had moved on and wasn't witness to the death stare Jacob now gave him.

"I don't know what's going on with you, but if you do anything to jeopardize your position here, I can't help you again."

Too late, buddy.
There was nothing Jacob or Chase could do when the shit with Riley hit the fan. He was screwed. It was only a matter of time before they placed the noose around his neck.

One week. That's all he had. He peeled Jacob's fingers off his arm. How much easier would his life be if even one person at the agency believed him when he told them Boyd was still alive?

Not even his own brother believed him.

The tension in Turner's body was almost impossible to control.

Jacob's nostrils flared and his lips thinned. His eyes locked on Turner. "If something's happened, you need to talk to me."

Turner shook his head. He couldn't trust him. Not with this. The man's sense of duty to the agency would override any friendship that lay between them. It didn't matter that Jacob was his brother's best friend, or that the man's mother had basically raised him and Chase. If Jacob thought for even a minute that Turner had violated the agency's rules, he would hand him in. Exposing what he knew about Riley and Kiera would be a huge mistake. A mistake he couldn't afford if he was ever going to bring Boyd to justice.

Forcing back the truth of his words, he snarled, "Once a fuckup always a fuckup, right?"

Jacob stiffened. "I didn't say that."

Turner rolled his eyes. "You didn't have to. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. And don't think I don't see the way Maverick and his brood watch me, waiting for me to fail."

Jacob shook his head and sighed. "No one wants you to fail. I'm just worried about you."

Worried about him? He almost laughed. Jacob didn't know a tenth of the shit he got himself into—and out of—on a regular basis. He was a walking, talking time bomb.

"You work me harder than anyone here." He swallowed hard, and played his next card. "If you're worried about me then give me a few days off to recuperate."

"You want time off?" Jacob's eyes narrowed and suspicion glowed in the amber depths.

There was no point pushing his luck. He shook his head and turned. "I'll be here tomorrow morning."

"Agent Payne." Frustration filled Jacob's voice.

Turner paused with his thumb pressed against the security pad. "What?"

"Take a few days off. I expect you to be in better form when you return." Jacob gave a curt nod and walked away.

Turner heaved a heavy breath as the doors shut behind him. It was less time than he needed, but it would have to be enough.

Riley tucked her knees under her chin and chewed on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She hadn't moved from her spot on the living room couch in over an hour. What was she supposed to do? What could she do?

She closed her eyes and placed her forehead on her knees.

Turner said he'd come back for her, that he'd help fix Kiera, but could she trust him? She shook her head and let out a long shaky breath.

What were her options? It wasn't like she could call the police. A small, hysterical laugh vibrated through her throat as she thought about how the conversation would go. "My sister's been turned into a lion, and some smoking hot guy, who's actually a lion too, has kidnapped, or rather lionnapped her, and dragged her off to God knows where…"

They'd end up carting her off to the loony bin.

Tears blurred her vision and she blinked them away. Breaking down wasn't going to help. She stood and shook out the numbness in her fingers. She needed to stay strong—for Kiera.

The shrill ring of the phone made her jump. She wiped her hands on her pants and walked to the kitchen. An unknown number displayed on the green screen.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end. A click and the line went dead. She frowned and put the phone back on the receiver.

It was the third dropped call today. The house was eerily silent. Almost too quiet. Her stomach clenched and an uneasy feeling settled over her.

Before she knew what was happening, a gloved hand covered her mouth and nose, and an arm wrapped around her chest, pulling her back towards a solid, large mass.

Panic surged through her. A ragged scream, muffled by her attacker's hand, burned her throat. She fought for breath, and struggled, but he tightened his grip.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Marcus' voice was raspy and wet against her ear. "I just want to talk."

Cold prickles ran up her arm and she went still. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon—
nothing
. She gritted her teeth, feeling her body weaken from lack of oxygen.

"Good girl." He tightened his grip around her chest, but removed the hand that covered her mouth.

She gasped in several breaths. "What do you want?"

He retrieved something from his pocket and a small pop sounded close to her ear.

"I want you to tell me where they took your sister."

She turned her head slightly and felt the blood drain from her face as she spotted the large syringe he held. "What are you doing Marcus?"

"Tell me where they took her and I'll let you go. If you refuse"—He lifted the syringe in front of her face, and a small drop of the amber liquid beaded at the end of the needle—"There are other alternatives."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "What is it?"

"Come on Riley, you're smart enough to figure it out." He placed the needle against her neck. "Tell me where she is."

"I already told you. She hooked up with someone last night and—"

He pushed the needle through her skin and she cried out. "Stop fucking lying to me. I know she turned and I want to know where she is. So unless you want to share the same fate, you better start talking."

"It was you." The words came out in a gasp, and the anger that swelled up within her threatened to choke her. "You did this to Kiera?"

"I'm not the bad guy here," he snarled, relaxing his grip slightly. "I didn't want to have to do this."

Her skin pulsated where the needle was embedded in her skin. His thumb twitched over the plunger. She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to cry. How much worse had Kiera suffered? When had he injected her, and why hadn't her sister told her?

She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. "Then why are you doing it?"

"It's my only chance." His body trembled around her and his breathing quickened. "I don't want to hurt you—"

"Like you hurt Kiera." She blinked back hot tears. Riley knew the guy was bad news, but this? "She trusted you."

"I did what I had to. It's the only way." A pained cry tore from his lips and he shuddered. The movement drove the needle deeper into her neck and she gasped. "If you tell me where she is
he
can save her."

"Who?" she whispered, licking her dry lips. "Who can save her?"

A knock sounded at the front door and Marcus stiffened. "Fuck." He loosened his grip and pulled the needle out of her neck. He took a couple of quick steps backwards and crashed into the kitchen table. "Who's here?"

Riley turned slowly and touched her neck. Another series of knocks, this time more persistent. It was too early for Turner to be back. But who else could it be?

Marcus took another step backwards and skirted around the table, his gaze darting around the room. "It's him, isn't it?" The syringe dropped to the floor, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Marcus." She couldn't let him leave, not if he knew how to change Kiera back.

When his gaze snapped back to her, his eyes were wild, crazed.

She caught her breath and took a step back. "If you know how to help Kiera, I'll do whatever you want."

"You can't trust him. Any of them." He blinked several times, then thrust a hand through his dark hair. "He's not who he says he is. Tell me where they've taken her and I'll make him fix her. He'll have to."

She shook her head. He was talking in riddles. "I don't know where she is."

A loud crash sounded from the front of the house, and Marcus bolted out the patio door.

"Wait!"

She started to follow him, but froze as Turner rushed into the kitchen through the hallway door on her left, weapon drawn.

His handsome face drew down in a scowl, and his eyes flashed silver in the shadows. "You all right?"

She gave a sharp nod, and he disappeared out the back. Her legs went rubbery and she had to grab the kitchen counter to steady herself. The neighbor's dog let out a long series of howls. She glanced out the kitchen window at the darkening sky and let out the breath she'd been holding in. 

Turner slammed the patio door shut and stalked towards her, teeth bared. "Did he hurt you?"

She touched her neck. "He had a needle."

A growl vibrated from Turner's chest. He pushed her hand away and ran his fingers over the small puncture wound. For a moment, she swore she saw a flash of panic cross his expression.

"He didn't inject it." She motioned towards the discarded needle.

He dropped his hand from her neck.

"Go pack a bag. Clothes, toothbrush, whatever you need. You can stay with me until we figure this out."

Stay with him? She didn't even know him. But if she stayed here, she knew Marcus would come back for her. He'd made his threat clear. If he couldn't have Keira, then he'd come back for her.

Turner shuffled through the pantry, and pulled out a box of plastic lunch bags. Using a bag as a glove, he picked up the syringe and held it up to the light. "It doesn't look like a sedative."

"I think it's what he used to…
turn
Kiera."

His head snapped towards her and his mouth dropped open. "Did he tell you that?"

"Not in so many words, but he threatened to do the same to me if I didn't tell him where you took her."

The muscles in his face tightened and his jaw clenched. "Did he say anything else? Mention who he was working with?"

"No." She rubbed her temples. "I don't know. It happened so fast. I don't understand any of this. He seemed to know about you…what you are. Is he one of you?"

"Fuck no," Turner growled, his lips curled up in disgust. He dropped the syringe in a bag and sealed it. "Get your stuff. We need to leave now."

"You'll take me to Keira?"

"It's too dangerous. If we go there now and  this psychopath is following you, we run the risk of leading him straight to your sister. Chase can handle himself, but I'm not putting Lora at risk."

"Lora?"

"His mate."

"Mate?"

He gave an irritated growl. "Wife. Soulmate. Life partner. Whatever term you humans want to use."

"Oh." She looked down at the floor to hide her discomfort.
Mate—t
he word sounded so primal, animalistic, and she couldn't help the desire it stirred within her.

Turner cleared his throat. "We really need to leave."

With a sigh, she headed towards her bedroom to pack. A thousand arguments of why she shouldn't go with him raced through her head, but none of them overruled the fact that he had her sister. The man seemed relatively sane, the lion-thing aside. He definitely wasn't the one jamming needles in her neck and threatening her, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that Turner was hiding something.

She'd go with him and find out where he'd taken Kiera. If it couldn't change her sister back, then she'd find the man who Marcus said could.