Hour of the Lion

“Got herself hired into the bar to collect information. Can’t get around that,” Alec said.

“She saved Jamie that day,” Calum put in softly. He could never forget that. “But when we caught her the night of the Gathering, she lied. She told us she was looking for you, Thorson. Not that she was investigating shifters.”

“There’s no law against killing two birds with one paw,” Thorson admitted, the growl gone from his voice. “I do believe Lachlan gave her that task. There was no lie in her scent-or her sorrow.”

Calum thought back to that night in Thorson’s home where Victoria had first told them how Lachlan died. Her grief had been real. “Aye.”

“My boy…he’d have been terrified of exposing us,” Thorson said. “He probably made her promise to keep silent.”

“But she’s an agent for the CIA. She admitted that, and we know Wells is her handler.” Calum’s brows drew together. “So this spy has just found out about creatures she’d never seen before. What’s her first action?”

Alec’s mouth twisted. “Tell her boss.”

“No, dammit,” Thorson snapped. His eyes had brightened. “Stupid cub. Are we flooded with government agents?”

“No,” Alec said slowly. “Aside from Vidal’s men, only Wells showed up.”

Calum leaned on the counter for support. “Could she have acted independently? Checked us out on her own?”

“You two know her better than I do,” Thorson said. “Would that little werecat go running to her boss with a fairytale story? Especially if she promised to keep us a secret?”

Calum remembered when Jamie was two. “Do it myself, Daddy.” Victoria would have been much, much worse. “No. I have a feeling she’d felt torn between her duties even before she turned shifter.” He remembered her careful questions in Thorson’s house, and her admission, “If I thought you were dangerous, I’m not sure what I’d do.”

“But Wells said she’d get a medal for the information. That doesn’t sound like someone on our side.”

“I talked to Angie today.” By Herne, he was still missing a piece of the bloody puzzle. “And this is what I want you to hear, Joe. I fear my own desires might affect my judgment,” he admitted.

Thorson nodded. “She’s your mate, Cosantir. You cannot help but be affected. Go on.”

“Angie said Victoria and her boss had talked very quietly. Then Victoria stood up and shook her head as if she’d refused something. The man was furious. Angie was heading over there-right before Wells raised his voice-because she thought he might hurt Victoria.”

“Vicki turned him down,” Thorson said, massaging the old wound on his shoulder. “Just like she told you.”

“Calum, I know you want… Brawd, she let him go free,” Alec whispered. His face looked like stone, hardened with pain. “She chose him over us. You have no choice; she has to die.”

I shouldn’t have discussed this with him here. Calum squeezed his shoulder. Could either of them survive the death of their lifemate?

“When I wandered the forest, I wondered where she might run to for help.” Thorson’s gaze rested on the picture of his grandson. “You know, she told me once she didn’t have anyone left either.”

No family. But surely someone so loving as Victoria would have found a substitute… Deep in his chest, hope flickered to life as he finally scented the right trail. “Alec,” Calum said, his voice hoarse. “We watched them through the windows before we jumped. Remember the look on his face?”

Alec frowned, and then his eyes narrowed. “She’d cut him loose. They talked. And he looked… His eyes were red as if he wanted to cry. He wasn’t looking at her like an employer or a lover either.” Alec rubbed his hands over his face. “And from the way she reacted to us hurting him, she loves him. Hell, he’s probably like her daddy, and we wanted to do a mind-wipe on him.”

“We didn’t leave her many options, did we?”

“Herne, how could we have been so stupid?” Light bloomed in Alec’s eyes as he reached the same conclusion as Calum. “But if he’s family, sharing information with him doesn’t break the Law.”

Calum smiled. “Aye. Family can share.”

Thorson barked a laugh, then jerked his head toward the door. “Cosantir. Cahir. Please fetch my granddaughter and bring her home.”

* * *

Fulfilling Thorson’s command wasn’t as easy as it had sounded, Alec thought, over a week later. The Vixen had disappeared as if she’d never existed. Well, that wasn’t surprising, considering she knew the Daonain would kill her. Alec put out an APB, used every legal and illegal method he knew to track her. Nothing. That damned spy-boss had trained her well.

The shorter days of winter had turned gray and miserable, and he wanted her with an ache that grew steadily worse. Although he and Calum tried to keep up a cheerful front for Jamie’s sake, they didn’t succeed very well, and she was pining too.

Last week, they’d discovered exactly who Vicki’s handler was. She’d made one slip in calling him by name.

Human channels of communication were too risky, but Calum had contacted Daonain on the east coast and arranged for the OtherFolk to leave a message for the man in his old Victorian house. House-brownies weren’t averse to making calls when the bribe was big enough.

Alec had to wonder how the agent had reacted to finding a note on his kitchen table in his well-secured home.

No word, so far, but if he really cared for her like a father…

An hour later, the door of his office opened.

Alec’s pen dropped as Calum walked in, followed by the handler. “Wells,” Alec said in a hoarse voice.

Wells pulled a chair next to the desk, seated himself, and smoothed his dark gray suit. “You wanted to talk. I prefer to speak in person.”

“Right.” Alec glanced at Calum. Where to start? “We’ve been trying to locate Vicki.”

A glimmer of amusement showed in Wells’ pale blue eyes. “The Sergeant rarely sits still long enough for someone to shoot at her.”

Calum poured them all coffee from the battered coffeemaker in the corner and set a cup in front of Wells. “You seem the type to take it black.”

“Very perceptive.” He leaned forward, his eyes like blue ice. “Why’d you change your mind about her, might I ask?”

“We managed to put together some of her actions, her motivations,” Calum said smoothly. He gave Wells a level gaze. “Your offering her a medal for her information came close to earning her a death sentence. I hope that gives you a sense of satisfaction.”

Wells paled at the cold statement of truth. His fingers closed around the coffee cup and opened. “I didn’t realize that until…afterward. I’ve handled it-her-badly.”

Wells versus the Cosantir. I should take bets on the winner, Alec thought nastily. Then again, didn’t women tend to mate with men like their fathers? He buried most of his irritation. “If that’s so, maybe now we can stop playing these asinine games.”

“Not yet. The Sergeant would get annoyed if I was mistaken and helped you-whatever you are-to hunt her down,” Wells said and looked at Calum. “Why do you want Vic back?”

He answered simply, “I love her.”

Wells’ gaze turned to Alec.

Over the last week, he’d tried not to think of her, at least during the day. The tiny pebbles of memories-her laugh, her flowing grace, her scent-could so easily turn into an avalanche-the way she moved under him in the night, how she bit her lips as she studied the police manual, the emptiness of their home without her. As with Calum, the answer was simple, “I love her.”

“She is, essentially, my daughter.” Wells wrapped long fingers around his cup as if his hands were cold. “I would almost prefer you to be hunting her than to want her as your own.”

To Alec’s shock, Calum actually growled.

A hint of a smile crossed Wells’ face. “But she loves you both, unworthy as you are.”