Nature of the B*E*A*S*T* Page 11

  "Look,” she said nervously past dry, cracked lips. “We should be able to help each other here. My father wants me reprogrammed, and no doubt Wade, too."

  Lucian said nothing.

  "For whatever reason, you want to double-cross my father with this safe word. Strangely enough, I'm okay with that. But you can use your safe word to get me past Brett."

  "Why would I want to do that?"

  "To help me rescue Wade!” Keira threw up her hands in exasperation. She knew it was a long shot, asking the doctor for help, but right now, he was the only light she had at the end of the tunnel. “Once Wade is free from my father, we can go to the bank and get you a king's ransom for your trouble, I'm sure. If he's really this heir you say he is, then Wade is probably worth millions."

  Arching a brow, Lucian pursed his lips.

  "Wait.” Keira's shaky hands threaded through her tousled hair as she thought of something. “You made my father a shifter. Is he affected by this safe word, too?"

  The doctor did nothing more than give her a sly grin. Every hair on her body stood on end at the sight of it.

  "Holy crap,” she whispered.

  "You want me to help you, young lady, I won't take any less than a hundred mil."

  She felt odd, bargaining with Wade's money in his absence, but she had no doubt he wouldn't mind in the least. “Done."

  She shook Lucian's hand for good measure.

  Twenty

  Brett stared in shock as the old man demolished his office. Not more than two minutes before, Covington had gotten a phone call. Obviously, it had been something that seriously pissed him off. He wasn't even cussing, merely yelling at the top of his lungs as first his files, then his monitor went crashing against the far wall.

  And here Brett thought the news that Wade was safely tucked into the small cell under the mansion would cheer the bastard up. Apparently not.

  Brett wondered about Covington's health, as his face was beet red, and from where he sat, Brett could hear his accelerated heartbeat.

  "Jesus fucking Christ!” Covington's outburst made Brett's eyes widen in surprise. For as long as he'd worked for him, Covington had never dropped the f-bomb.

  "What the hell?” Brett stood from the leather sofa and glanced around the mess that was once the old man's office.

  "The others,” Clive raged, his chest heaving. “The other goddamn shifters seized the compound in Oregon!” Brett's eyebrows shot up. “All the experiments in the Pacific Northwest are on the loose. Holy Mother of God, what the hell am I going to do?"

  Covington's keyboard flew through the air and Brett ducked to avoid it. Every hair on his body stood on end at the news, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the benefactors. Those asshole scientists did indeed torture the men they captured. Even he himself had been under their knife on more than one occasion. In fact, the only reason he worked for Covington now was for the promise of a new life and freedom after Wade, Noah, and Rogan were caught.

  One down, two to go.

  Covington's blue button-down shirt was stained at the armpits. He looked like shit with his hair every which way and his slacks hopelessly wrinkled. “Carver was right,” he finally said after a long silence.

  "About?” Brett prompted when Covington didn't elaborate.

  The old man raked his fingers through his hair and stared Brett down. “I want you to kill Wade McAllister."

  "I thought you wanted him here for reprogramming?"

  "I changed my mind. That son of a bitch has made a mockery of me. He slept with my daughter! His friends are ruining everything I've worked so hard to build. Let him be an example to every shifter who dares defy me. Kill him."

  Balling his hands into fists, Brett growled low and nodded once. Without another word, he left the office, madder than hell. Killing Wade had not been on the agenda. Capturing? Yes. Hurting? Probably. But killing?

  Wade and Brett had shared a cell back in the compound in Colorado. They'd often talk late into the night about what had happened to them that day and tried their hardest to remember their lives before. Brett didn't consider him a friend per se, but he wasn't too keen on taking him out simply because Covington had his panties in a knot.

  Wade had been given the serum right after Brett had slammed into him with his cop car, and had also been injected with Dr. Carver's most recent discovery, a new serum that made you shift. Brett wasn't about to carry a heavy-ass cougar into Covington's mansion. Making Wade shift back into his human form had been more than convenient, and keeping him that way had been another bonus. By now, Wade's body was rapidly healing from the accident and he was probably wide awake. That would make Brett's job that much harder.

  He'd always hated killing people. The process was so messy, not to mention the fact he hated the taste of human blood, unlike Tam, who'd seemed to find it a delicacy back in the day. But Wade would be conscious when Brett tore out his throat, and he wasn't in the mood for hearing his pleas for mercy.

  Was killing a man—and a fellow shifter at that—worth his own freedom? Just yesterday, Brett would have said yes. But witnessing Covington's temper firsthand with regards to the second compound being seized in Oregon, he had serious doubts about whether the bastard would ever let him go. Perhaps he was about to kill the wrong man.

  Brett's skin rippled at the thought and it was all he could do to hold the cheetah at bay as he strode through Covington's mansion.

  * * * *

  "Can you believe this, Noah?"

  "Child's play."

  "Exactly my thoughts. You'd think Clive Covington, U.S. senator and the man behind B*E*A*S*T*, would have better security.” Rogan made a sour face before tightening the zip-ties he'd used to tie up the last of the five rent-a-cops they'd encountered within the mansion, who were now all unconscious.

  "To his credit, the man's got a million things on his plate right now,” Noah said with a slight grin on his face. “His daughter makin’ whoopie with a shifter, his second compound in Oregon destroyed, eventually taking over the entire world..."

  "Don't make me gag, tiger.” Rogan rolled his eyes.

  "How long until Mac and the others get here?"

  "Hmm. When I talked to him, he was just about to cross over into Arizona. That was a few hours ago. I'd like to think maybe twelve hours if they push themselves hard."

  Noah scoffed. “Good God! They'll miss all the fun."

  "They've still gotta go through New Mexico."

  "Yay, New Mexico."

  Rogan chuckled as they rooted through the security guards’ ammunition belts. “Nothing wrong with New Mexico. In fact, I thought you and the Missus quite enjoyed the desert."

  Noah's eyes twinkled. “Oh, we did."

  "Then what are you—"

  "Shh!” Noah's body suddenly went rigid. “Someone's coming."

  "Damn. I'd recognize that stench anywhere,” Rogan said, pinching his nose. “Brett."

  Noah cocked the handgun he'd stolen off the man lying next to him. “Let's say hi, shall we?"

  "After you.” Rogan grinned from ear-to-ear. He couldn't wait to put Brett in his place. But it would be tricky. He'd be able to smell them in a few moments. They'd have to use surprise to their advantage.

  Noah ran to one of the Romanesque marble columns that rose from floor to ceiling on the far side of the room and hid behind it. Rogan made his way swiftly to the one opposite Noah and waited. The wolf inside of him howled to be set free. His skin itched with the urge, but he wouldn't give in to it. Not now, not yet.

  Footsteps echoed throughout the hall before a shadow stretched across the floor from the rising sun shining through a large-paned window. Rogan nodded at Noah, fingering the syringe of serum he still had from infiltrating the B*E*A*S*T* compound in Colorado. Noah jumped out a split second before Rogan, squeezing off a shot before Brett could even react. The cheetah went down with a cry and as quick as a flash, Rogan was on top of him, injecting him with the serum.

  "Ha! Take that, you bastard!�
� he yelled with a grin.

  "Get off me!” Brett screamed, trying like mad to shift. Rogan could see it in his flashing eyes.

  "Think again, traitor-boy. You're going to tell us where Wade is."

  Brett breathed heavily through his teeth, a large pool of blood already collecting on the pristine marble floor. “What makes you think I'd do that?"

  "How about to save your pitiful life?” Noah offered, hunkering next to the two men on the floor.

  "Covington's going to kill you. You've risked your own lives by even coming here. There's bound to be more security on the way. Cameras are all over the place.” Brett's eyes darted back and forth between them. Rogan smiled.

  "Nah, I think we found the backup, don't you, Noah?"

  "Indeed,” Noah said, nodding thoughtfully. “And I believe those cameras we smashed are useless as well."

  "Yup. As were those guard dogs.” Turning to Brett, he said, “You should have seen them running away yelping when they were chased across the lawn by a white tiger!"

  Brett seethed through his pain, but said nothing.

  "Honestly, Walker,” Rogan said, inspecting the dirt under his own fingernails. “Infiltrating compounds is becoming old hat nowadays. This place is a cakewalk compared to the agency."

  "You two are idiots!"

  Noah pressed his knee against Brett's wounded shoulder, making him cry out in agony. “No, Brett, you're the idiot, working for Covington when you know damn good and well the bastard isn't going to do you any favors. What did he promise you, anyway? Full disclosure to your files?"

  The cheetah breathed heavily through his nostrils, making them flare in and out.

  "Whatever it is, it must be damn good,” Rogan said, glancing at Noah. “How else do you tame the fastest mammal on the face of the Earth?"

  Swallowing hard, Brett squeezed his eyes shut. After a few moments of silence, he began to talk. “Covington sent me to kill the cougar."

  "Ah, now we're getting somewhere.” Noah grinned.

  "The old man's cracked.” Brett winced and licked his lips. “He knows about everything, and he wants the heir to the Cameron fortune dead."

  Rogan arched a brow. “So our Wade is loaded, eh?"

  Brett nodded. “You don't know the half of it. Covington threw him into the B*E*A*S*T* program to keep him from inheriting that money. He's using Wade's millions to fund the project."

  Noah whistled through his teeth, his eyes wide.

  "Why the hell are you telling us this?” Rogan asked, suddenly suspicious.

  "Because you're right. The old man doesn't care about anything but himself and his damned agency."

  "And you've had this epiphany within the last—” Rogan looked at his watch, “—ten seconds?"

  Brett growled. “No, you ass—ah!"

  "Watch it,” Noah said under his breath, pressing his knee into Brett's wound once more.

  "I've bent over backward for that man and gained nothing in return. He sent me to kill McAllister, that much is true, but I wasn't going to do it."

  "I suppose you were going to set him free and live happily ever after?” Rogan pursed his lips. Taunting Brett filled him with smug satisfaction. He supposed it was better than beating the shit out of him.

  Brett rolled his eyes. “Look, I wasn't going to kill him. I'm not sure what the hell I was going to do, but it's obvious to me and to everyone else that Covington is off his rocker. He's even ordered his own daughter to be reprogrammed once she returns with Dr. Carver."

  Noah glanced at Rogan. “Ah, so she's not here yet?"

  Wincing, Brett shook his head. “No."

  "Well that makes our job easier,” Rogan said with a grin, standing to offer Brett a hand. He cried out, as Rogan took no pains to be careful with his injury. “Take us to Wade, and if you try any funny business—"

  "You'll eat the barrel of my gun,” Noah grumbled.

  "Ooo, I like that, tiger.” Rogan nodded in approval.

  "Do you? I made it up just now.” Noah pushed Brett in front of him and dug the end of the weapon into his back.

  Brett stepped over the unconscious guards and led them down the length of the hall until he came upon a solid wall at the other end. Placing his hand upon a seemingly innocent-looking panel, a section of the wall opened, revealing a narrow corridor.

  Rogan gasped. “A secret door? Right on!"

  Brett growled while Noah shook his head. “I swear, anything impresses you, Wolfe."

  "Hey, what can I say, I'm easy to please."

  With a chuckle, Noah muttered, “That's what she said."

  Rogan socked his friend none too gently in the shoulder. “Don't make me hurt you, ass wipe. I promised Lanie I'd bring you back in one piece."

  "Are you two finished?” Brett asked, obviously irritated.

  "Oh, I'm sorry,” Rogan said, a note of mock sympathy in his voice. “Are we not paying enough attention to you?” Grabbing hold of Brett's injured shoulder, he pushed him forward.

  "Son of a bitch!” Brett stumbled in the secret corridor

  "Hmm. Sounds like he knows you pretty well, Rogan."

  "Shut up, tiger."

  * * * *

  Wade sat up when he heard voices. That sounded too much like Rogan and Noah. Was he delirious? How long had he been in this cell? But the longer he strained his ears, the more he became convinced he heard them speaking. It wasn't until their muted scent came to him that he began believing they were really outside his door.

  But so was Brett.

  Smelling that bastard made his hackles rise. Wade's skin rippled with the need to shift, but the serum in his blood prevented him from doing so. Banging on the door to his pitch-black cell, Wade screamed as loud as he could, and winced as his muscles screamed in agony.

  "Rogan! Noah! I'm in here!” He pounded until his fists were numb. The sound of the clicking lock was loud within the confines of his room, and the door squeaked open on rusted hinges. Florescent light flooded the shadows, making Wade cringe and cover his eyes.

  "Wade!” The familiar voice of Noah was next to him, holding him steady as he swayed in the light.

  "Jesus,” Wade groaned, his eyes watering. “What the hell are you guys doing here?"

  "Rescuing you, dumbass.” Wade couldn't help but chuckle at Rogan's tone of voice.

  Then the pungent aroma of blood filled his sensitive nose. Squinting, he said, “Which one of you is hurt?"

  "That would be Brett,” Noah said dryly. “We forced him to bring us to you."

  Once Wade's eyes adjusted to the light, he glanced around the room, but nothing else filled it aside from the crude cot. Noah stood next to him in the cell while Rogan and Brett stood in a corridor of some kind. Brett glared at all three of them.

  Wade would have tried to punch him merely for the pleasure, but his body still screamed in pain with every move he made. “I'm amazed you got Brett to help you. Bastard hit me with a car not too long ago. I don't trust him farther than I can throw him."

  "Who says I'm trustworthy?” Brett suddenly shoved Rogan into the cell before he dove for the door. It slammed shut and the bolt clicked into place just as Noah and Rogan both lunged to reopen it.

  "Goddamn it!” Noah yelled, pounding on the door. “Walker, what the hell?"

  "Three for the price of one,” Brett exclaimed from the other side. “The old man's going to be happier than a pig in shit."

  Wade hung his head and sighed deeply as Brett's footsteps faded away. “Well this is a fine mess.” Unable to stand any longer, he collapsed onto the cot behind him.

  Rogan pounded on the door with the palm of his hand one more time. “Doesn't this just effing figure?"

  Noah sighed, and Wade felt the cot dip in the darkness when his friend sat beside him. “Our wives are going to be pissed."

  "You can say that again,” Rogan fairly growled.

  "At least we're all together again,” Wade said with a forlorn chuckle.

  "Eh, don't worry, Wade.” Noah patted h
is knee. “Mac and the gang are on their way. Probably be here in a few hours."

  He didn't say it, but Wade wondered if they even had that long.

  Twenty One

  Keira rubbed her skin as goose bumps raced up her arms. Seeing her father's mansion had never filled her with such foreboding as it did right now. The sun had risen not too long ago and the grounds seemed deserted. Strange, considering her father usually had a man on duty in the gatehouse to screen visitors. But the gates to the estate were wide open, and the guard dogs were nowhere to be seen.

  "Well, what do we have here?” Lucian said, following the gravel drive up to the house. “It would seem we're not the only ones to visit the old man so early in the morning."

  Keira swallowed hard in an effort to clear her throat of her pounding heart. “Are you sure this safe word works?"

  "I've seen it with my own two eyes, my dear,” Lucian said, pushing his spectacles up his nose. Turning the car around the circle at the end of the drive, he turned off the engine and brought his gaze to Keira. “Used it on your lover myself."

  Intense heat crept up her cheeks, but there was no hope for it. “Fine. Let's get this over with.” Without another word, Keira climbed out of the Buick, slamming the door behind her. But she hesitated, waiting until Lucian rounded the car to walk in front of her.

  He climbed the steps like he owned the place. She walked timidly behind him, wishing she had his confidence. The knowledge that her own father was a shifter was almost too much to process. He'd stolen everything from Wade, his father, his money, hell, even his identity. This very mansion used to belong to the elder Cameron back in the day. Keira couldn't help but wonder if he'd truly gifted the estate to her father, or if her father had merely taken it after Cameron's death. Knowing what she knew now, she wouldn't put it past her father to have stolen the man's home as well as his bank account.

  The large double doors swung open easily, revealing an empty hall with a set of wide stairs, curving along the wall to the second story. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting tiny rainbows on the wall from the morning sun pouring in through the front windows.