Primal Law (42 page)
After jogging around to the front, she pushed inside and spotted Dean sitting in a booth near the back. He waved and she went to meet him, returning his quick hug before sliding into her seat across from him.
Mustering a smile, she crossed her arms on the table. “You look good, my friend.”
He always did. Dean was in his midthirties, with honey blond hair, big brown eyes, and a killer smile. The whole package stopped traffic. It was a shame she felt nothing more than mild attraction for the man, and vice versa, because it had been
way
too long since she’d had any sort of an intimate relationship.
way
too long since she’d had any sort of an intimate relationship.
“Back atcha.” Sitting back, he eyed her in speculation. “I already heard through the grapevine about the shooting. How are you holding up?”
“Jeez, that was fast,” she muttered. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He patted her hand, gaze softening. “That’s normal. You’ll be all right, trust me. Especially after I give you something else to occupy your mind.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a legal-sized white envelope and slid it across the table.
Swallowing hard, she eyed it. “My
tickets
?”
tickets
?”
The agent glanced around, but there was no one nearby to listen. Still, he spoke in a low voice. “Read that, memorize it, and then destroy it.”
Turning the envelope over, she glanced at her friend. “What’s inside?”
“Directions to a place that doesn’t officially exist.” He paused. “A compound in Wyoming situated deep in the Shoshone National Forest. Top secret, black ops.”
“Unless you know the right people to squeeze.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Exactly.”
Taking a deep breath, she asked the one question burning in her heart. “Is my brother alive?”
“I don’t know,” he said, tapping the envelope. “But those are the ones who will.”
So close, but still no answer. Yet. She fought back the tears that would do neither herself nor Micah any good. “You risked everything to get this information for me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“By not getting yourself killed.” He wasn’t joking.
“I’ll put that on the list right after finishing with IA, taking personal leave, packing, and hitting the road.”
“Call me when you leave town, and keep in touch.”
“I will,” she promised.
“You hungry? I’m buying.”
To Rowan’s surprise, her stomach snarled. Funny how a sliver of hope could revive a person’s appetite. “I could eat, but it’s on me. And if this lead takes me to the truth about what happened to Micah, there’s a steak dinner in it for you when I return. It’s the least I can do.”
“Only if you bring Micah with you,” he said softly.
Dammit, she would
not
cry.
not
cry.
“It’s a deal.”
Understandably, their meal was quite a bit more subdued than usual. Rowan was far too preoccupied to make a good companion, but that was the beauty of true friendship; neither of them had to say a word to be comfortable. They had each other’s backs.
While they ate, her thoughts drifted to this mysterious compound and what kind of operation she would find. Not to mention the reception she’d receive, especially when they learned of her mission.
But she wouldn’t leave without learning, once and for all, what had happened to her brother. She and Micah had always shared a mental connection that most people would scoff at, and certainly wouldn’t understand. They weren’t twins, but she felt strongly that she’d
know
in her heart if and when he died. He was alive. Had to be.
know
in her heart if and when he died. He was alive. Had to be.
No, this wasn’t the end at all, but just the beginning. She’d find her brother if it was the last thing she ever did.
And then she’d make reservations for three at the finest restaurant in L.A.
With every mile that took her closer to her destination, Rowan’s anxiety grew by leaps and bounds. The gorgeous backdrop of the Shoshone National Forest, resplendent in full summer greenery, hardly registered as she steered her truck up the winding road.
Gripping the wheel, she eyed the left-hand side of the road, looking for the obscure turn outlined in the directions she’d memorized and then burned two weeks ago. Three miles later, she found it. Or hoped she had.
Turning, she braked in front of a metal gate. It was simple, the kind any landowner might use, along with the black-and-white NO TRESPASSING sign nailed to a post next to the chain and padlock. Neither posed a deterrent to her bolt cutters or her determination.
Leaving the truck running, she grabbed the cutters and made short work of the chain, then unwrapped it, letting it hang from the gate.
In for a penny.
If she was in the right place, she’d soon have a lot more to worry about than a measly charge of trespassing on government property.
In for a penny.
If she was in the right place, she’d soon have a lot more to worry about than a measly charge of trespassing on government property.
After swinging the gate open enough to drive the vehicle through, she returned to the truck and did just that. Then she got out and closed the gate again, wrapping the chain around it so that hopefully nothing would appear out of the ordinary to a casual passerby. So far, so good. She continued on her way.
A couple of miles deeper into the forest, the second barrier was an unpleasant surprise and a formidable obstacle. She could have screamed in frustration.
The chain-link fence was about ten feet tall and topped with razor wire. This gate was much more sophisticated, at least two feet taller than the fence on either side, and automated, with a pass code box on the driver’s side. On top of the security box, a camera lens stared her in the face like an all-knowing eye.
“Shit.”
She didn’t have the code. And after several minutes of punching a green CALL button and waiting, it became evident that no one planned to answer her summons. The operatives inside were probably having a good laugh. Maybe they thought she’d get bored and go on her merry way.
They thought wrong.
Calmly, she reached for her purse. Extracted the Glock from within and, squinting, pointed the gun at the camera lens. “Knock, knock, assholes.”
And fired, sending a shower of glass and metal raining all over the drive.
That ought to get their fucking attention. Best to meet them head-on. Stepping from the truck, she tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans and walked over to inspect the gate. State-of-the-art stuff, a real fortress. What was this place and how was Micah involved? She wasn’t leaving until they enlightened her.
A shuffle sounded to her left. And low growling.
Turning, she cursed softly, eyes widening. Guard dogs? Several of them, on
her
side of the fence, fanning out to surround her, heads down, ears flat, fangs bared. Moving almost silently through the sun-dappled forest.
her
side of the fence, fanning out to surround her, heads down, ears flat, fangs bared. Moving almost silently through the sun-dappled forest.
But no, these weren’t dogs. They were . . .
Wolves! Several of them, and one really large black
panther
?
panther
?
She blinked rapidly as they approached. Then she backed slowly toward her truck, thinking she must have been seeing things. Wolves were now common in the Shoshone, thanks to wildlife rescue efforts. But she’d heard that wolves went out of their way to avoid mankind. Right? Just not
these
wolves.
these
wolves.
And what about the big cat? Black panthers didn’t even technically exist!
Tell that to this one.
“Stay,” she called, holding out a shaking hand. “Nice doggies. I’m not going to hurt you.”
A loud snarl came from behind her, and a glance nearly stopped her heart. One wolf had moved behind her, blocking her escape to the truck. She was completely surrounded. Her pulse beat a terrified tattoo in her throat.
Just then, the images of three of the wolves and the cat began to shimmer. Sort of like heat waves on hot pavement. Their bodies began to re-form, the fur retracting. Canine and feline limbs becoming arms and legs.
What the shit?
Staring, she told herself she was
not
seeing a group of sexy, naked men standing among the rest of the wolves with a range of emotions on their faces from amusement to grim resignation.
What the shit?
Staring, she told herself she was
not
seeing a group of sexy, naked men standing among the rest of the wolves with a range of emotions on their faces from amusement to grim resignation.
A dark-haired god of a man—wolf, whatever—strolled forward. “I’m Nick Westfall, commander of the Alpha Pack team. And you’re in a shitload of trouble, Miss Chase.”
How did he know her name? Rowan couldn’t catch her breath to reply, even if she could’ve formed a response. Her vision blurred, and the tough woman raised in an East L.A. barrio did something she’d never done in her life. Not even when she’d been informed of Micah’s “death.”
She fainted dead away.
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