Hour of the Lion

himself before getting down to work.

Fuck yes. There was nothing like the young ones with their high screams and terrified eyes.

The sound of a pistol split the night air, then several more shots. Screaming. Yelling. The filming had begun. The people scattered into the various streets. They’d been told to keep running since filming would continue here and there.

No camera was set up on this street. Vidal had been clear about his requirements with the director.

Swane listened, and a second later, the kid appeared out of the darkness. She ran toward him, trying to look afraid, not very effectively. That would change. A few more steps and then…she stopped dead. Sniffing and looking around. What the fuck?

Whatever. She was close enough. He aimed and heard a growl. Before he could turn, jaws closed over his hand. His skin ripped, his fingers breaking with little snapping sounds. He screamed and struck at the animal. Another huge, monstrous dog sprang on him.

Swane landed hard on his back. As he tried to rise, teeth snapped close to his neck. He froze, barely breathing. Spittle hit him in the face as the dog’s fangs hovered an inch from his throat.

They weren’t dogs. Wolves. Werewolves. The monsters weren’t just mountain lions. Swane’s bladder released.

From the sidewalk, the girl watched him, then looked past him.

Too terrified to move, Swane rolled his eyes in that direction. Two men were crossing the street. The cop. The girl’s father.

Fuck.

* * *

Vic didn’t slow her pace, but her heart hammered like a ‘ma deuce’ machine gun. Wells! Here in her town. The thrill of seeing him had lasted one whole second before turning to worry. And dread. After some hard calculation, she straightened her shoulders and followed him into Angie’s Diner. I can do this.

Supper rush had ended, and only two men in overalls and work boots occupied stools at the counter. Wells had taken a table near the corner, and he motioned for her to join him. Her footsteps on the old wooden floors sounded like a drum roll of doom as she walked into the room.

“Vicki, dear!” The owner, Angie O’Neal, came out from behind the long counter, hands outstretched in greeting. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how pleased we are for you and the men. You’ve been good for them, and for little Jamie.”

Oh, this was so not the time for this. Vic forced a smile and let the woman squeeze her hands. “Thank you, Angie. That’s sweet of you.”

“What can I get you? The special tonight is meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

“Just coffee, thanks. I’m meeting a friend,” Vic added, nodding toward Wells.

He stood as she walked up to the table, politely pulling out a chair for her. Attired in jeans, T-shirt and a dark brown corduroy jacket, he’d dressed to fit in. They waited until Angie had set two cups and a pot of coffee on their table and returned to her counter.

Face impassive, he studied her with clear blue eyes, then nodded. “You’re looking well, Sergeant. Very healthy, in fact.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I was in the area and had a notion to see how you’re doing. Have you adapted to civilian life?”

In the area? Sure, you were. She summoned a smile. “I think so. It’s been harder than I thought in some ways.” There was something wrong here. His expression and body language were…off.

“I’m not surprised.” He changed subjects. “As you requested, I investigated the ex-marine named Swane.”

“I-I told you that the locals took care of it.” She realized her mistake immediately.

His eyes turned cold. “But they didn’t, Morgan. The homeless crimes are unsolved, and Swane isn’t in custody. In fact, they don’t have his name at all in conjunction with the case.”

Oh shit, she was screwed.

“Your Swane is an ‘enforcer’ who works for a Tony Vidal. So I checked out Vidal. Typical mobster with some odd interests.”

She kept her eyes down, pretending to watch her coffee. Pupil dilation, eye movements-Wells could read the smallest flicker. “Really.” How much did the spymaster know?

“He’s investigating rumors of people transforming into mountain lions.”

Worse and worse. She turned her shock into amusement. “Excuse me? Mountain lions?”

“Odd isn’t it? But about two months ago, he captured a young man…who transformed into a mountain lion when tortured. Vidal wants to know how to create more monsters. That is where using the homeless as specimens came into play.”

“Are you serious?” Please, don’t take this story seriously. Laugh, dammit. She saw her coffee lapping at the sides of the cup-her hands were shaking. Moving her hands back, she exhaled the anxiety out, inhaled calmness.

“Oh yes. He took recordings of the transformations.” Well’s lips turned up. “Keeps them on his laptop.”

Holy fuck. Wells had documentation. “He’s keeping all that information to himself? Why not give it to the National Inquirer for some big bucks?”

“His motivation is unclear at the moment. He’s focused only on how the creatures are created.”

“He doesn’t sound sane, sir,” she said lightly. If the information was still in one place, the shifters could destroy it. Calum needed to hear-

“Did you know the young man-the one who turned into a mountain lion-was captured nearby?”

Fingers of ice closed around her spine. “In Cold Creek?”

“That’s why Mr. Vidal is holed up not far away. I intend to pay him a visit later tonight to discuss his recordings.” Wells looked her straight in the eyes. “Do you want to tell me again why you’re here, Sergeant?”

Don’t do this, she wanted to say. “Because my life is here. I fell in love, married, quit the service, you know how it goes.” She pushed to her feet. “And speaking of new lives, I need to get back to work.”

“Gone over to the enemy?” he asked softly. “Would you like a charge of treason added to all your medals?”

The slash was quick and brutal. “I’m no traitor, dammit!”

“Then tell me about these animals. How many are there? How are they created?”

Created? Did he think some evil scientist had made them? She wanted so badly to give him the truth. She couldn’t. “I don’t-”

“You’re lying, Morgan.” His voice had gone flat, his eyes icy-he’d never looked at her like that before. “I’d never have believed you would betray your country-or me. I loved-” He broke off his sentence, breathed out harshly.

The pain surged all through her, hurting more with every pump of her heart. How could she lose him like this? After her first assassination, he’d showed up at her apartment. Ignored her shaking hands, her teary eyes. Stayed up all night with her, drinking coffee. Just being there. He’d always been there. Guilt shriveled her spirit.

“Vicki,” he said softly. “Have you seen these creatures?”

A tried and true technique. Slam the subject over the head, induce guilt, be their friend again. She searched for some answer to give him, and then simply shook her head. “Sorry, sir. I haven’t seen any creatures.”

All the life drained from his face, and his blade-like voice hacked bloody pieces from her soul as he said, “They’re monsters, Sergeant. However they’re created. You get me the information I need so we can hunt them down, and there’ll be a medal for you.” His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. “Otherwise you’ll have your discharge, Morgan. A dishonorable one.”

She stared at him, her jaw clenched. Dishes crashed behind her, the sound mimicking the shattering of her heart. I’m sorry, sir. Trying to find enough air to speak, she inhaled…and caught a scent. She turned.

Alec and Calum stood in the doorway.