Circe's Recruits: Gideon: A Multiple Partner Shifter Book (3 page)

Though it went against protocol to only have one guard present at a time, Alex chanced it. He punched in the code and stepped right outside. Then, instead of using the company phone, he texted his sister on the cell phone he wasn’t supposed to have inside the compound.

Katie, enough. You’ve done all you can. Get your ass to ground. I can’t wait any longer. Honey, please. Disappear. It’s going down now. Call me when you get this.

He heard nothing. But then, she only communicated on
her
timetable, whatever the hell that was.

Then he sent another text, knowing this one he couldn’t take back. Once he sent it, all hell would break loose.
23:30. A go. South gate. 2-4-5-5-8. Extract for 4.
Pocketing his phone, Alex walked back inside, only to see Pratt fucking with Gideon.

“Hey, get away from him.” Alex frowned.

Pratt pushed a button to slide the table back to a horizontal plane. Then he pushed another, rocking Gideon up and down, and no doubt screwing with the guy’s already frazzled brain.

“Pratt, come on. He’s got to heal so the docs can work with him later. You know how pissed off they get when the subjects aren’t functioning.”

Pratt sighed. “Whatever.” Then he smirked and withdrew a large knife from a side sheath strapped to his leg. “But this guy heals awful fast, and I don’t—” His eyes grew wide. His lips parted, and a gurgle of shock escaped.

Alex noticed something sharp poking through Pratt’s left side.

“Oh, shit.” Alex leapt forward, but it was too late. Gideon Spencer had one of his hands free from the supposedly unbreakable restraints. That hand was tipped with claws and buried deep in the small of Pratt’s back.

Gideon’s fist pushed through, gripping a mass of bloodied guts, then he ripped it back and laughed.

And the sound was anything but human.

Chapter Two

It’ll be the best job you’ll ever have,
they said.
You’ll never want to leave. U-Ground is an employee’s paradise.
Yeah, right. Bailey Duncan rolled her neck, wondering why she always had to work the night shift. Though she’d been deemed U-Ground’s Service Rep of the Quarter, she felt like the lowest peon on the totem pole lately.

The phone rang,
again,
and she sighed at the myriad lights blinking on her display. She put her current call on hold, answered the next guy in line, rattled off his dispatch, then returned to her current problem child.

“Seriously, this load isn’t worth my time.” Joseph, her biggest pain in the ass since taking on a second board of U-Ground drivers, started to complain. “And what the hell am I transporting? You have any idea how heavy my crates are? I barely made it past the last DOT weigh in.”

While she talked him off the constant ledge he seemed to be perched on, her headache returned. No doubt her own fault since she’d forgotten to grab a coffee from home. She loved her java but could do without the caffeine withdrawal.

Bailey dealt with four more calls before needing a break. “Hey Steve, can you take the rest of my calls? I need a break? My head is killing me.”

Her supervisor smiled. “Sure thing, Bailey. Go ahead. You’re due for a lunch anyway.”

More like a midnight snack. “Okay. See you in half an hour.” She rubbed her temples and walked away from the maze of cubicles into the staff room.

When she’d majored in communications in college, she’d never imagined she might put that handy degree to work talking on the phone eight hours a night. But then, jobs were hard to come by, and she made an excellent salary at U-Ground. So what that she felt as excited about work as she would about a root canal? Or that she basically read details off the computer—what any unskilled sixteen year old could do.

U-Ground was only a starting point.
You can do this. Your student loans need you.
At the thought of how much longer she still had to pay them off, she groaned and headed into the upper management lounge.

Since making Rep of the Quarter, she’d been given a few perks she loved. One, a parking spot not located three states away. And two, access to this schwanky manager lounge. They didn’t just have a coffee maker. They had an espresso machine and milk frother. Gourmet food machines, a microwave and mini cooktop, as well as a fancy electronic kettle and a selection of teas and coffees for the taking. To her delight, the place was empty. She normally only shared it with a few night owls working the late shift anyway.

Just as she headed in the direction of the coffee pot, desperate for her daily fix, trouble walked in the door. Myers and Yates, two of her least favorite people on the planet. They worked security on one of the lower levels in the building, where they made the super secret stuff they transported. Some kind of hybridized electronic and steel plates that the government used for…something.

Bailey had been told the material would be used in construction to protect government buildings from new threats. The security had to be tight at all times. Heck, just getting a job in the place had been like jumping through a bazillion hoops. But for the pay, she’d jumped like mad.

“Well, well, Myers. Our lucky night.” Yates didn’t so much grin as leer at her.

“Hello, sweetness.” Myers gave her a smile that made her shiver.

“Good evening.” So much for hanging around the lounge. She’d take her coffee to go. She poured herself a large mug and doctored it with enough creamer and sugar to be palatable. But when she turned to leave, the monstrously large guards surrounded her.

The security teams on her floor looked normal enough. But the men from the lower levels took pumping iron to an extreme. Yates and Myers were a fair representative—buff, menacing, and enjoying their power. They were interchangeable, Yates with blue eyes, Myers with brown. Both major assholes.

“When do you think we’re going to have that dinner?” Myers asked.

“Or a drink?” Yates added. “I’m free after work in the morning.”

“For a drink?” She took a hasty sip of coffee and nearly scalded her tongue. “Well, I’d better get back before—”

Myers stepped closer, almost on top of her. She stared at the center of his chest, taking particular note of the breadth of muscle there. Then she raised her gaze to his mean eyes and hard, unsmiling mouth. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Talk about sexual harassment. The two men had been bothering her for weeks. She’d complained, to no avail. None of the higher ups had done anything about them. Odd, considering the sensitive climate these days concerning harassment. Her boss had talked to HR on her behalf, but even Steve didn’t have much pull. Not compared to the people who worked in the secured environment on the lower levels. In addition, Myers and Yates had standing with the company. She didn’t. Six months of her time compared to three years of theirs.

She didn’t think they’d do more than verbally taunt her, not in a company environment. But she’d taken care not to go to her car alone after work, even in broad daylight.

“Look, I—”

Yates pushed Myers back. “Hey, man. Back off. You’re scaring her.”

“I’m not scared, but—”

“She said she’s not scared.” Myers glared at his supposed friend and shoved Yates. “See? She wants to go out with me.”

“No, I don’t.” She tried to edge away, but Yates closed in on her.

“She wants
me.
” He plucked the coffee from her hands and placed it on the counter behind her.

“Hey.”

Before she could grab it, Yates kissed her. More like mauled her. His slimy mouth made her want to gag. She hadn’t noticed more than his bland aftershave, but now pressed up against him, she smelled body odor, tasted the too sweet cola he’d consumed earlier, and felt as if spiders were crawling all over her. Her senses went haywire, and she bit down, hard, piercing his lip.

To her horror, she tasted blood.

Yates sprang back and glared at her. “Bitch bit me.”

“That’s cause you were doing it wrong.” Myers chuckled and dragged her to him, resisting her fists with ease. “How about my way?”

He leaned down to kiss her, nearly suffocating her with his fat mouth and bruising hug. And she went crazy.

Bailey tore into his face, his arms, gouging and screaming, hitting and flailing. A haze of out-of-control rage—not fear—consumed her. As did an inhuman sense of strength. She’d
kill
him. How dare he touch her? She’d tear him apart, bathe in his blood, then—

Bailey blinked up at the ceiling.

Confused to find herself sprawled on the floor, all alone in the room, she took a moment. She didn’t see anything, but she tasted copper. A
bad
taste, and what exactly did that mean? She picked herself up off the floor, baffled, scared, and no longer suffering a headache.

“What the hell?” Shaky, she ran her hands over her clothes, her head, her body. Nothing felt out of place. No lumps on her head to prove they’d knocked her out. No disarray to her clothing to show she might have been violated after being—what? Drugged?

How had she been assaulted one minute, alone and on the floor seconds later, with no recollection of escaping the attack?

As she tried to still her shaking legs and gripped the counter, Myers and Yates entered the break room.

She froze.

Yates frowned. “You okay?” His lip looked fine. No bite mark.

“I-I, uh—you…”

“Hey, Bailey, you want to sit down? You look pale.” Myers nodded to her cup, still on the counter. “That yours? Maybe have a sip and relax.”

Neither man looked bruised or mussed.

What the hell?

She grabbed her coffee, gave the pair a wide berth, then darted out the door.
Great. Another blackout. I’m going to have to see a doctor. Three times in one week? If this is the new normal, I am seriously screwed.

Myers shared a glance with Yates. He moved to the phone mounted to the wall and dialed.

Dr. Lang answered. “Yes?”

“She’s showing definite signs.”

Yates nodded, his hearing as enhanced at Myers’s.

“You’re sure?” The excitement in Lang’s voice irritated him. Myers had had enough of Lang’s plans. He’d put up with a lot for the crazy bastard. The money had been good, but not enough that he should have to deal with a loony bitch who said no when she really meant yes. Good thing he healed fast.

“Her pheromones were all over the place. She wants it bad, even if she’s not aware of it.” He shared a grin with Yates. “I think it’s time we introduced her to the team.”

“Hmm.” Lang paused. “Not yet. I need more data.”

“Then when, Doc? The boys aren’t doing so well.” Understatement. He’d had to hide a body this morning. Not the way he’d planned to spend his time with Jane Doe #4. Unlike Sheer, he liked his bed partners alive.

“Yes, yes. I know it’s getting worse. I just need a little more time. Trust me. Once she’s fully developed, she’ll suit. Right now, too much rough handling will kill her. I’ll have to start over. And that won’t help anyone.”

“He’s got a point,” Yates said in a low voice.

Myers agreed. But he couldn’t say the same for Pratt or the other guys. Which reminded him. Yates and he needed to deal with Palmer. Maybe the doc had a few ideas. “Okay. We’ll wait on Bailey. But about Palmer. He’s a little off.” They’d all denied taking the drugs that made them special, because Lang had told them to keep their abilities a secret. But Myers had a feeling Palmer really hadn’t been given EP13.

“I’m aware. I’ll take care of it.” That tone in Lang’s voice.

Myers knew when to back off. “Yes, sir.”

“If there’s nothing else?”

“That’s all for now.”

Lang hung up without a goodbye.

“So we have to wait.” Yates scowled.

“What else is new?” Myers sighed. “I know we volunteered for this, but I’m getting tired of waiting. Any word on the other freaks Lang’s working on? Smith say anything about when we can have them?”

“No, but he’s not one to talk to right now. You saw what he did to Spencer. Torched his balls off.”

Myers frowned. “Smith worries me.”

“Me too. But I think he worries Lang more. That’s why we’re here.” Yates gave a shrug. “But there are ways around him, around the doc too, for that matter. Have you seen the chicks down on level 4? Part of that psychic program Lang’s fronting? How about we offer some security down there?”

“Seen anything you like?” No wonder he and Yates got along so well.

“There’s a new sexy brunette mouthing off about things she shouldn’t be talking about. No one’s going to complain if she wants to play house with us…then disappears.”

“Well then. Let’s go.”

***

Gideon loved the feel of Pratt’s guts squishing through his fingers. The scent of Pratt’s otherness surprised him, though. He hadn’t sensed it before, but now he realized Pratt had to be a little bit like him. Psychic, yet not. Stronger, for sure, because though Pratt had fallen in a heap to the ground, he remained silent and aware. Gideon leaned down to grab him, and the bloodied guard struggled to go free.

With Gideon’s luck, the asshole would heal, and then he’d need to deal with Pratt
and
Palmer at the same time. Ripping his arm from the other metal band on the table, Gideon tore into Pratt’s neck. No way the guy would re-grow a head. At least, he hoped not.