The B*E*A*S*T* Within Page 10

  * * * *

  With a sigh, Lanie hung up the receiver of the pay phone for the fifth time. No luck in Phoenix. Or Tempe. Or Tucson. There was a listing for an Anthony Mercer in Yuma City, however, but that man was seventy-five years old and had even answered the phone. Wrong man.

  They'd stopped at a gas station shortly after they'd eaten lunch, and Lanie had approached the pay phone with trepidation. Now she was beginning to think calling Information was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. How was she supposed to know which city Noah had once lived in?

  Pulling more change from her pocket, she deposited it and redialed 4-1-1.

  "City and state?" came the monotone voice on the other end.

  "Flagstaff, Arizona."

  "Yes?"

  "Anthony Mercer."

  "One moment please." After a few minutes of typing, the operator said, "Thank you." Lanie heard a phone number recited by the computer. Repeating it to herself over and over, she deposited more change and dialed the number. First one ring, then two. Finally, a woman answered.

  "Hello?"

  "Yes, hello,” Lanie said, trying to sound happy and bubbly. “Is Mr. Anthony Mercer there?"

  A long pause, then, “Who wants to know?"

  "My name is Tiffany Copeland, and I'm with Mr. Mercer's high school reunion committee. I'm calling because we lost track of him over the years, and I was wondering if we'd found the right person at this number."

  "Yes, this used to be Anthony's phone number, but I'm sorry to say he's passed away."

  Lanie's stomach bottomed out. “Oh my goodness,” she said into the phone. “How horrible! I'm so sorry."

  "It's all right,” the woman replied. “It happened a couple of years ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Is this his widow?"

  "No, I'm not his widow, but we were engaged to be married. I guess it was never meant to be."

  "If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, would you be willing to verify his full name and birth date? I just want to be sure I have the right man."

  "Of course. His name was Anthony Noah Mercer, and his birth date was January 24, 1972."

  Lanie swallowed hard, her palms sweating. “Ye—yes, I believe that is the same man I've been looking for. About six foot three, dark blond hair, blue eyes?"

  The woman on the other end sighed forlornly. “Yes, that's the one."

  "Can you share any details about his passing or where he's buried? I just know the reunion committee will want to print a memorial for him in our program.” Lanie couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She hoped she sounded convincing.

  "Anthony was in a horrible car accident. The car caught on fire, and there was nothing anyone could do. They had to identify him through his dental records."

  "I'm so sorry.” Lanie gasped, truly shocked at all his fiancée must have gone through.

  The woman paused and sniffled before continuing. “He's buried at Oak Park Cemetery here in Flagstaff."

  "Oh, thank you, I might try to get a picture of his tombstone for the memorial. Do you know if Mr. Mercer had any children?"

  "Not that I know of. He was in the Marines, so he didn't have time for a lot of fooling around. He was even stationed in Iraq for a time. He'd been dating me since college. We were just six months away from our wedding date when he was killed."

  "That must have been a horrible time for you."

  "It was, but I've moved on. I'm engaged again now, as a matter of fact."

  "Oh?” Lanie was unable to keep the curiosity from her voice.

  "Yes, to a wonderful man. He healed my heart after Anthony passed. I'm truly blessed."

  "It sounds like it."

  "It's a good thing you called me when you did, Miss Copeland. My fiancé and I are getting married in a few days, actually, and this phone number will soon be disconnected."

  Lanie sighed with relief at her good fortune. “Well, thank you for all you've shared, and congratulations, Miss...?"

  "Garner. Patricia Garner."

  "Thank you, Miss Garner. It was nice talking to you."

  "You're very welcome. I hope you have a wonderful reunion despite Anthony's passing. Take care."

  "Goodbye."

  With a shaking hand, Lanie hung up the phone. There was no doubt in her mind that the woman she'd just talked to was the woman in Noah's memories. She'd said Anthony's middle name was Noah. It was too big of a coincidence to ignore. His age and description had been right on as well.

  And Lanie's heart also took flight in knowing that Noah wasn't married and had no children! She glanced at him as he pumped the gas and couldn't help but smile. The man was hers, all hers.

  She supposed she should have told Miss Garner that he was alive and well, but the man Patricia had once known no longer existed. In a way, Anthony Mercer had died two years ago. Now, no one existed but Noah Carpenter.

  Lanie shivered as she had a thought: two years. Noah had been with B*E*A*S*T* for two years! Dear Lord, the pain and suffering he must have endured. It was a wonder the man wasn't catatonic. The agency must have abducted him, taken him off the streets and faked his death. The body in Anthony's grave wasn't his, so whose was it? Lanie shuddered and tried not to think about it.

  Walking over to the Hummer, she avoided Noah and climbed into the passenger side. She didn't want to tell him the news of what she'd found out next to a gasoline pump in the middle of nowhere. But she could see the frustrated look he gave her through the window. His eyes flashed, giving Lanie a glimpse of the tiger he could become. Could she handle him? Could she truly love a man who was almost a monster?

  Her own thoughts stopped cold. Love? Was she in love with him? Groaning to herself, she knew it was true. Noah, despite his abnormalities, was the perfect man—for her anyway. She must be mad. She was in love with a shifter!

  But, as Noah finally climbed into the driver's seat flashing her his sexy grin, she sighed and her heart melted. Yes, it was true. She was in love with a shifter.

  Nineteen

  Rogan scowled as he drove over the border into Arizona with Justin in the car beside him. Heaving another sigh, he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

  "What?” Justin asked, giving him an innocent look that made Rogan's blood boil.

  "You know damn well what!” he exclaimed.

  Justin leaned back his head on the passenger seat, closed his eyes, and smiled. The cocky little bastard even had the nerve to fold his hands on his lap.

  "Why the hell do you insist on tormenting me, J?"

  "You?” Justin said with a chuckle, turning his head and cracking open an eye. “It's Tam I'm trying to torment."

  "Yeah, and we all know what his response is going to be. It's not going to take him long to figure out that the information you gave him about the Iowa plates was wrong!"

  "I kinda want to see how long it will take him, don't you?"

  "No, Justin, I don't. He's going to find out you lied to him and come looking for you. Hell, he'll come looking for me. He'll put two and two together, you know. He's not stupid. We work too close together for me not to know about your disloyalty. Damn it, this isn't a game!"

  "Of course it is, Rogan,” Justin said with another wry grin. “We're driving in the opposite direction as he is. By the time he realizes what's happened, I plan to fly the coop."

  "Why not leave now?” Rogan asked. “Get while the gettin’ is good."

  "Because I want to see the look on his face.” Justin laughed, and Rogan had to wonder about the kid's sanity. Justin appeared to laugh even harder at Rogan's sour expression. “I'm joking, Wolfe. Geez."

  "Damn, kid. I thought for a minute there that you mighta had a death wish."

  Justin shook his head. “Maybe I do. It does make me happy to get the best of Tam. If I could, I'd kill the sonofabitch."

  "Good Lord, J. What's gotten into you?"

  Justin glanced out the window and was silent a few moments before he said, “Before we left the compound to look for Noah,
I managed to hack into B*E*A*S*T*'s mainframe. Know what I found?"

  Rogan shrugged. “What?"

  "My classified file. Told me everything I needed to know about who I am, where I came from. And it also told me another little nugget of truth."

  Rogan looked at him as he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “What?"

  "Tam killed my girlfriend.” Rogan gasped as Justin's eyes turned glassy. “When I was abducted by B*E*A*S*T* in the middle of the night, she was with me, lying naked in my bed. He ... tore out her throat, but not before he ... raped her.” Justin covered his eyes as a sob escaped him.

  "Jesus,” Rogan whispered, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “I'm sorry, man."

  "I'm sorry too,” Justin said, wiping his cheeks. “I'm not supposed to remember any of it, but I couldn't sleep at night. All I could hear were her screams echoing in my ears. Once I read the file, I remembered glimpses of that night, glimpses of a huge black cat that pounced on us from out of nowhere. I'm not even sure how I survived."

  "I guess B*E*A*S*T*'s method of mind-wiping us isn't working too well."

  "No, it isn't. I know who I am, Rogan. But I can't go back to that life. And I can't go back to the agency. So where does that leave me?"

  "I don't know."

  "Yeah, I don't know either."

  A few miles passed in silence before Rogan spoke again. “How did you hack into B*E*A*S*T*'s classified files?"

  Justin smiled wickedly. “Well, first, you need to get yourself an access code—"

  "How do I get one of those?"

  "Do you want to hear this or not?” Justin glared at him, crossing his arms on his chest.

  "I'm sorry, O Magnanimous One. Do enlighten me.” Rogan rolled his eyes.

  With a satisfied nod, Justin continued. “You get yourself an access code..."

  * * * *

  Tam glared at the technician behind the desk and growled. “You're sure this information is correct?"

  "Checked it twice,” the tech replied, turning the monitor so Tam could see. “That license plate number you gave me belongs to a Eunice Marx, age eighty-two. The car it's registered to is a white 1988 Lincoln Continental. The woman's never owned a blue pickup in her life."

  Leaning back in his chair, Tam heaved a sigh and stared at the ceiling. He'd returned to the B*E*A*S*T* compound to relay the information on Noah to his superiors and dig up an address from Justin's intel. But it appeared that a certain hawk needed to get his eyes checked—and his wings clipped.

  Justin had lied to him. The bastard had lied! What was he hiding? Had he simply made up a story to circumvent Tam's wrath? Or had he fabricated the story to help Noah and Lanie escape?

  At that moment, Tam realized the truth. He should have seen it coming. Noah had friends while he was at B*E*A*S*T*. Tam should have known better than to believe that Noah's friends had turned on him so quickly, but he'd been so consumed with rage at the thought of a shifter actually escaping the compound that he hadn't realized their obvious ruse.

  Noah had been close not only to Justin, but to Rogan and Wade as well. Both Justin and Rogan had been chosen for this mission on the basis of their loyalty to the agency, but Wade was still rotting in his cell for all Tam knew. Wade was another shifter—a cougar who could also remember his life before as they liked to call it. Until he could be brainwashed again, they kept him drugged to suppress the effects the memories were having on him—something that should have been done to Noah.

  But it was obvious to Tam that he'd been getting some help, and perhaps there were more traitors in their midst. It had boggled Tam's brain that one shifter could have escaped so easily. Now he knew how.

  Noah's old friends might still be with the agency, but their loyalties lay with that damned white tiger, not to B*E*A*S*T*.

  Shaking his head, Tam couldn't stop the side of his mouth from curving into a grin. Before long, chuckles escaped him and turned into loud peals of laughter. It all made sense. It finally all made sense!

  The technician stared at him as if he'd gone mad, but Tam didn't care. In a flash, he was on his feet and walking out the door, determined to raise a little hell.

  Twenty

  "So?” Noah asked.

  "So what?"

  "So are you going to tell me what you found out? You haven't said a word for miles!"

  Lanie could hear the frustration in his voice, and she pursed her lips. They'd left the gas station long ago, and still she was silent, not saying a word. Why didn't she just tell him the news? What was she afraid of?

  She supposed she feared the unknown. How exactly could she have a future with Noah? True, she was already in love with him, but once she crossed the line—fully crossed it—there would be no turning back.

  Could Noah control the animal side of him? Was there something inside him that was primal, instinctual? If there was, could it be tamed? Looking at him from across the cab, her entire body shook, but she wasn't sure if it was from fear or desire.

  "I think I found the woman you dreamt about,” she finally said, releasing the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

  Noah slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. He threw the Hummer in park when it finally lurched to a stop and pierced her with his intense gaze.

  "Tell me what she said!” he demanded.

  "Her name is Patricia."

  "Patricia...” he whispered as he closed his eyes.

  "She lives in Flagstaff, and she told me that Anthony Mercer died about two years ago in a horrible car accident. Apparently, he burned to death and they could only identify him by his dental records. She told me his full name and his birth date. His middle name was Noah."

  With a sigh, Noah raked his fingers through his hair. Lanie could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

  "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

  "Yes!” He startled her with his anger. “I'm sorry, baby. But I've got to know. Keep talking."

  "You were born on January 24, 1972. You were in the Marines and engaged to be married, but you never were. Patricia told me you didn't have any kids either. And she's found someone else now, Noah. She's engaged again and told me that her fiancé had healed her heart after you ... passed."

  Noah wiped the tears from his eyes but couldn't stop his sobs. Lanie desperately wanted to climb onto his lap once more to comfort him. Sniffling, he pounded the steering wheel.

  "Those bastards stole my life from me! How could they? How could they, Lanie?"

  "I don't know,” she answered, wiping away tears of her own.

  "God, it's liberating in a way though. I finally know. Christ, I know who I am."

  They sat there in silence for several minutes before he glanced at her once more. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he smiled in spite of it. More tears spilled over as he chuckled and covered his face with his hands.

  "Noah, are you all right?"

  "I'm not married!” he exclaimed, as if he'd just won the lottery.

  Lanie smiled. “No, you're not."

  When he looked at her once more, she could clearly see the hunger in his eyes. It must have been mirrored in her own, because he groaned and slipped the car into drive.

  "Where are we going?” she asked warily.

  "Somewhere with a bed."

  * * * *

  The door to the motel room hadn't even slammed behind them before Noah pushed Lanie down on the large bed in the middle of the room. Without missing a beat, he lowered himself on top of her and kissed her savagely. A bolt of lightning raced through her veins, making her moan and buck against him. His hands seemed to be everywhere, scooting her farther back on the bed and following her with his big body.

  Lanie opened her legs for him without conscious thought, gasping as his body fit snuggly on top of hers. His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her head still for his roving mouth, invading her, possessing her with his tongue. She answered him in kind, raising her legs to caress his thighs.

  "Dear Go
d, woman, you smell so good. So damn good.” He panted against her neck, nipping at her skin. It was a little painful, but each small sensation of pain also shot an arc of desire throughout her entire body. She was on fire, and all she wanted was him.

  His palms were suddenly under her sweater, lifting it up and over her head, burning her sensitive skin. She cried out as they claimed her breasts still clad in her bra.

  "Lanie, baby, you'll have to help me with this, or so help me I'm going to rip it off!” He licked her skin just above the frilly lace.

  She slipped her own hands under his shirt, stroking his masculine skin. “My hands are busy at the moment,” she told him boldly. “You'll just have to rip it."

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than her bra was torn away, the sound of it filling the room. Instantly he pounced, claiming one of her breasts with his mouth.

  "Noah ... oh, Noah,” she whispered with a moan. “Please hurry. I want you inside of me!"

  "Damn, Lanie,” he said as he kissed her once again. “You're going to make me come in my pants."

  "Then take them off!” She plunged her fingers into his waistband. She'd never seen a man undress so quickly, but once he was naked before her, all she could do was stare.

  "Noah, you're ... beautiful."

  Had she actually made him blush? He hid it by picking up his discarded pants and digging in the pocket for one of the condoms he'd been carrying. He tore open the package, but Lanie's hand on his stopped him.

  "Let me,” she said, wanting nothing more than to wrap her hands around his length.

  Noah bit his lip and nodded, handing it to her. With slow, determined strokes, Lanie sheathed him in the condom, languidly fondling him up and down. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. With a low growl, he tossed her back into the pillows.

  "Your turn,” he said as he fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans. Within moments, he'd yanked them off along with her panties, and she was naked before him. Her skin pebbled at the cool air, but she wasn't cold. Far from it. She was hot, burning to a crisp from the blue flames in Noah's eyes.