Sentinel: Bravo Bear: (A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (The Agency Book 1) (6 page)

***

Connor stirred awake, blinking sleep from his eyes as he rose with careful silence, unwilling to wake Madison.

He glanced over at where she slept on the bed, her chest moving up and down with slow, rhythmic regularity. She looked so very peaceful, unlike the slightly frazzled and overwhelmed woman he had seen the night before.

No, that wasn’t fair at all. Despite the suddenness of everything that had overtaken her, Madison had managed to keep her composure for much of the night, not losing control until they were safe and secure. She was smart, far more intelligent than he had guessed at first glance. That intelligence had allowed her to remain mostly composed for the trip, barring a few moments.

She had even taken out one of the Agents who had come up behind him, clobbering him upside the head with a stone. Connor had taken a quick look at the man, and she had walloped him. He doubted the man would ever be quite the same again after a hit like that.

Madison was someone to be taken seriously.

His bear roared its agreement, shaking off its nightly slumber to chime in on the subject of Madison. The feral animal made it very clear what it wanted, but Connor pushed it to the side with almost contemptuous ease. Not because he disagreed, but because he needed to focus on getting her to safety, and not how the curves of her hips constantly drew his attention.

Slipping his clothing back on from the night before, now that it was dry, he prepared to go outside. The swamp smell was mostly gone, though he did get a quick whiff every now and then, but nothing that he couldn’t deal with. Moving to the door, he opened it slowly and slipped outside.

Climbing down the stairs, he cautiously moved toward the front of the house. His eyes searched the street for any suspicious activity or anything that might indicate that they had been compromised. The house was on a very busy street, which actually helped with the cover. There were so many people coming and going that passersby rarely noticed someone new in their midst. To the right were more houses, but to the left, the direction he now turned, shops began to populate themselves. Across the street were more houses, then a small park to break up the buildings before shops began on that side as well.

There was a small coffee and sandwich shop just at the street corner that he had been to several times. In the morning the owner, Myles, served egg, cheese, and thick-cut bacon on a freshly baked croissant that was to die for. Connor smiled as he imagined the reaction from Madison. He hoped she was happy with his choice.

“Myles,” he nodded casually as the little bell rung to announce his entrance. The portly little owner, a man with a thick foreign accent who nonetheless understood English perfectly despite his lilted speech, looked up.

“Ah, Meester ‘Onnor,” he said politely. “You have the same?”

“Yes, but I’ll need a second portion of everything if you please,” he said.

The slightly-older gentleman’s face lit up like a neon light. “Oh, yes yes! For a lady?” he asked, his bushy eyebrows bouncing up and down happily.

Connor laughed, shaking his head as he smiled at the man. “Indeed, though not quite like that,” he protested. “More like a coworker.”

Unfortunately.

Now where had
that
thought come from? Connor was more than willing to admit that he found Madison very easy on the eyes. But that was quite different from being interested in her. Wasn’t it?

Shaking his head, he forced that thought aside, turning to look out the front of the building while Myles put together his order.

Connor froze. There, parked across the street, was an Agency SUV. And loitering against the hood with his back to Connor was someone who unquestioningly was an Agent. Connor wasn’t sure how he knew that he knew, but he did. Something about the body language. With his back to him, the black clothing could have been anything, but that just reinforced his notions.

How the fuck had they located them this fast? Could it be a coincidence?

He shoved that thought from his brain almost immediately. There was no such thing as a coincidence, especially not one of such a huge magnitude as this. The Agency knew where to find them. He doubted they knew exactly where, because nobody had been watching the particular unit that contained their safe house. Nobody that he had seen, at least. Perhaps they had been using some high-powered binoculars or similar technology. That wasn’t really the Agency’s style, but he supposed it was possible.

The trick now was going to be getting back without them seeing.

“Here you are Meester ‘Onnor!” Myles said, putting the coffees in a cardboard tray and the packages of food in a bag.

“Thank you Myles,” he said absentmindedly, pulling out a couple of bills and pushing them across the counter at the man. Pocketing his change, Connor grabbed the food and drink and turned to leave.

An idea struck him.

“Myles,” he said slowly.

“Ah, yes?” the man asked cautiously, aware of the change of tone in Connor’s voice.

“Do you drive?”

“Ah, I sorry, what you say?” he asked again.

“Drive,” Connor said more forcefully. “Do you have a vehicle?”

The old man looked around somewhat nervously, then nodded. “Ah, yes, but, you no tell anyone, but Myles not supposed have one.”

Connor smiled. “Can you take me a block and a half that way?” he said, pointing back in the direction of the safe house. The safe house and Madison.

Myles began to protest, but Connor put the order down, pulled out his wallet, and shoved the cash in it across the table. The shop owner brightened immediately and bustled around the counter without saying a word, locking the front door and flipping the Open sign over to Closed.

“Dis way!” he said, beckoning Connor to follow him.

He followed Myles out through the kitchen and into the back of the shop, where a pink Cadillac sat in the parking spot nearest the door. Connor felt his mood sink. This was
not
the inconspicuous little sedan he had hoped to find. Not only was it a powder pink, but it was an older model with high tailfins and big cherry-red lights.

Connor groaned a little. He was going to get caught. They were all going to die. The crinkling of the food brightened him. At least he was going to die with a full stomach!

Snorting away his nerves, he climbed into the front seat, relieved to see that the windows were actually a little tinted. That should work. Myles sat back and very carefully did up his seatbelt before looking in the various mirrors and adjusting them. Then he slowly inserted the key into the ignition and turned it over.

The engine roared and coughed, rolled over again, made a loud
bang,
and then began to pour black smoke out of the dual exhaust.

This time Connor groaned aloud as his head sunk toward his lap. This idea was
not
turning out the way he had expected it to. Not at all. Next he half-expected Myles to lean on the horn as it played a musical tune.

That—thankfully—did not happen, and they cruised from the parking lot. Myles did, however, jam on the gas and cut off two cars as he swerved through traffic to the far lane to make the left-hand turn from his shop onto the road. Connor had visions of dying all over again, this time via vehicular crushing. He breathed a sigh of relief as they cruised by the Agency SUV without anyone seeming to notice.

“Where I go?” Myles asked in his stilted English.

“That house there,” Connor said, pointing. “Go all the way to the back.”

Myles followed the directions perfectly, putting the car in park at the back of the house, where the driveway ended in a detached single-car garage.

“Thank you,” Connor said, slipping out quickly and heading for the steps up to the third floor.

“See you soon Meester ‘Onnor!” Myles said, then gunned the vehicle backward toward the street.

Connor stood at the bottom of the stairs, trying not to flinch when more tires squealed as Myles probably cut off at least one, if not several more cars. There was no bang, thankfully, and so after a second he climbed up quickly, hoping that Madison was still asleep.

She was, but the sound of the door opening woke her with a snap.

“Easy!” he said. “It’s me. Everything is okay.”

“Where did you go?” she asked, eyes wide awake, face unsmiling. She was looking around the room, reminding herself of where she was.

“Food,” he said brightly, holding up the bag. “And caffeine,” he finished, holding up the drinks.

Her mood brightened almost immediately. “Now you’re talking my language,” she said, though she still didn’t smile.

He frowned at that, but let it slip. She had been through quite a lot in less than twenty-four hours. It was perfectly okay if smiling wasn’t at the top of her list of priorities.

Pulling the little table in the room closer to the couch, he laid out the contents of his haul from Myles’s. Two breakfast sandwiches, along with a donut, and two coffees with a handful of sugar packets, a little pre-sealed cup of creamer or two, and stir sticks.

“You’re all right,” Madison said.

That’s what Connor interpreted her half-formed words to mean as she took several big bites from the sandwich, without touching anything else.

“I’d like to say it’s because I’m a nice guy, but I just know the sandwiches are damn good and I was hungry myself,” he laughed, then dug in to his own meal.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Madison asked, taking a swig of coffee as she swallowed her first bites.

He raised an eyebrow in answer, not wanting to speak with a full mouth.

“You shifters, you heal fast, correct?”

He nodded slowly, wondering where she was going with the conversation.

“So why does this super-secret Agency kill so many shifters? Why don’t they just keep them hooked up and constantly take their blood?”

Connor nodded, understanding her point now. He finished his bites, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, ignoring the crumbs that fell onto the floor.

“Couple of reasons,” he said, beginning to elaborate. It was a valid question. “First, we don’t know for sure, but we suspect they need a lot of it in short order, and fresh. That’s why they basically take everything at once. We’re not sure, but it seems to fit. That may not have been the way they started—” He paused. “In fact, we’re almost positive that’s not the way they started. But that’s how they do it now.”

Madison nodded. “And second?”

He took a quick bite of sandwich, eyes becoming slits as he relished the savory mixture of flavors. “The second is because they don’t want to keep housing all the shifters while they continue their search.”

“Their search for what, exactly?”

“We believe,” he said, pausing to take a drink. “That they are searching for an Alpha.”

Madison frowned, thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t get it. An alpha what?”

“Capital A Alpha,” he said. “It’s a sub-strain of shifter. It can manifest itself in any race, though it is more prevalent in some than it is in others.”

“There’s different types of bear shifters?” she asked, confused. “What’s the difference?”

“We’re bigger, faster, stronger, and most of us are a bit more feral,” he told her, only hesitating for a moment over the particular words he used.

He watched as her eyebrows shot up. “We?” she asked simply.

Connor nodded. “Yes. Me, my team, most of the shifters in and around Genesis Valley—we’re all of the Alpha strain. Some take more prominently toward it than others, but it’s present in almost all of us.”

Madison was quiet as she digested this bit of information, taking several bites of her food. He mimicked her, constantly reminded of the truck out front. They would need to be going. Soon.

“So what happens if they get an Alpha?” she asked at last.

He shrugged. “We don’t know. But their serums are improving. The man I fought last night was a handful. I’ve been training for close to a decade in all manner of combat, in addition to increased physical training. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m good, Madison. I’m damn good. And he almost beat me. I probably would have gotten the better of him without your help, but it wasn’t a sure thing. That’s without the blood of an Alpha to distill,” he finished, the ominous implication of what might happen if the Agency did get an Alpha clear for all to see.

Madison sat back, looking thoughtful once more. His eyes flicked over, noting a hint of troubled thought this time as well. Each time she glanced over at him, that seemed to increase several fold, until she looked away.

She was wearing small silver hooped earrings, he noticed. Connor was about to comment on them when she opened her mouth. Sensing that this was something important, he stayed quiet.

“Call me, um, call me Maddy, okay?” she asked haltingly, her voice full of indecision.

Connor nodded slowly. “Okay, Maddy, I can do that.”

She smiled weakly.

“Those are nice earrings,” he commented. “Where did you find those?”

“Oh, these?” she said, looking relieved at the change of topic as she reached up to finger them gently. “I almost always wear them. I guess my dad knew about this, and so he had some packed away in the bag he made up for me.”