Hunter's Heart

else, he could give Daria that much.

Ryon waved a hand. “We’ve come this far. Let’s do it.”

“Wait,” she said softly. Stepping close, she laid her palm on his chest. “I’m sorry I pushed you into coming back here, especially now. You’re sick and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“It’s all right, baby. If I didn’t want to try again, you couldn’t have made me.” He gave her a quick kiss. “We’re going to accomplish what we came to do and get out of here, trust me.”

Daria looked deeply into his eyes, as if trying to discern his sincerity. After a minute, she stepped back, satisfied. “All right. So, did Nick say what part of the house the corridor leads to?”

“The kitchen pantry.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. What better place to hide the other entrance than behind a wall of food? We can restock our packs, too.”

“Clever,” she admitted.

“We’ve got to hurry.”

Every cell in his body alert, Ryon padded toward the house, Daria pressed to his back like a second skin. The narrow confines of the bright corridor made him more uneasy than before. He half expected the passage to be booby trapped, then dismissed the notion. A man like August would prefer to mete out pain himself and witness the results.

They reached the stairs and ascended slowly. Ryon found the latch, and the mechanism emitted an audible pop, the wall creaking when released from position. He tensed. After a minute, he used the tip of his rifle to inch the gap wider. Light from behind them flooded the large walk-in pantry. Quickly, he stepped inside and motioned for Daria to close the panel behind them. If anyone in the kitchen had seen the strange light below the door, he and Daria would soon find out.

Nothing. Breathing a sigh, Ryon used the tiny penlight to scout for food to replace what they’d consumed. Being a man of finer tastes, August didn’t allow the cook to buy a lot of junk. However, Ryon did locate several packages of crackers, jerky, and a few granola bars. With a grimace, he stowed them in Daria’s pack, thinking he’d give his small fortune for a juicy steak and a baked potato. An open case of bottled water rested on the floor and Daria put several bottles in his pack. Ryon figured he’d rather collapse from carrying the extra weight than to starve or dehydrate. What a choice.

This done, he flicked off the penlight and opened the pantry door an inch. All was quiet. A clock on the wall revealed the hour to be one thirty in the morning. His tired, aching body felt every minute of it.

They made their way from the kitchen into the open, airy living room, placing their steps carefully, keeping to the perimeter. Moonlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the pool on one end of the room, the front lawn on the other. A burly guard stood next to the patio door with his back to the glass, facing the pool, shifting restlessly.

August’s office wasn’t far, just across the living room and a few feet down the hallway. Ryon barely made the safety of the shadows in the hall and turned to beckon for Daria to hurry, when the guard suddenly pressed his face against the window. The big man jerked upright in surprise, shouldering his rifle.

Shit, he’d spotted her!

Daria saw him, too, and froze, the SIG trained on the man’s broad chest as he strode inside, stalking her. His cocky smile flashed in a sliver of light. Totally ignoring her gun, he lowered his own weapon and pressed his body against hers.

“Well, what do we have here? August’s sweet little do-gooding niece can’t shoot, so what are you going to do? Shall we work out a trade for my silence?”

Ryon’s wolf snarled in rage, and he barely kept the sound from escaping. The claws on his hand lengthened, and he waited.

Daria didn’t answer, but began to back away, bringing the guard closer to Ryon’s hiding place. Good girl. Just a bit more. Ryon clenched his teeth as the dirtbag crowded her and cupped a breast, confident in his ability to overpower her. A sloppy fool, smelling faintly of whiskey. And groping his mate. It would be his last mistake.

“Very nice,” the man laughed, low and nasty. “You’re going to come with me, open your pretty legs, and learn how to treat a real man. Then I might be persuaded to forget you were here—”

Ryon had heard enough. Moving silently, he came at the goon from behind, reached around him, and delivered a vicious, lethal swipe to his neck. Blood sprayed over the pristine floor, and he could muster no sympathy for the slimy bastard.

Working fast, he lowered the huge man to the floor, laid the rifle on his chest, took him by the ankles, and dragged him away. The living room offered no place to stash the body, so he secreted it inside the pantry. Next, he grabbed a couple of kitchen towels and quickly wiped as much of the blood as possible from the floor. A hurried inspection would pass in the darkness, but the guard would be missed eventually. After relieving the man of his shirt, pants, handgun and bullets, he rejoined Daria.

She hadn’t moved, but stood like a small, pale ghost with wide, fathomless eyes that he couldn’t see in the dark. Only the firm line of her unsmiling mouth gave voice to her thoughts. He touched her cheek.

“I had no choice, baby. He would’ve killed us both.”

“I know.”

But her tone was dull. She was coming to terms with the fact that the man she loved was a natural-born killer. He wasn’t some romantic commando from a Stallone movie, but the real thing, and he had other abilities tacked on for good measure. Knowing that and witnessing it were different matters. Heart heavy, he dropped his hand and turned to head for the office.

Daria swept in ahead of Ryon, and he left the door cracked a bit before joining her at the computer. She settled into August’s black leather chair, retrieving the thumb drive case from her pack. She wiggled the mouse to wake up the sleeping machine, then stuck in the thumb drive. The password box immediately appeared on the screen.

Fingers flying, Daria tried the last several codes. Access denied. “Damn. Have any more secret access codes up your sleeve?”

“Try Project Malik, no spaces.”

She clicked out the word, pressed enter. They were in! “Another safety net, mate? My, you and Nick were busy boys,” she commented without looking up.

Intent on her purpose, she leaned forward. His affirmation fueled her desire to get that final piece of evidence, the ace in the hole. Ryon didn’t interfere. Her computer skills matched or surpassed his, and he knew she would’ve eventually broken into the main screen, even without Nick’s help.

Conscious of the minutes slipping away, he peered into the hallway. Still clear, but not for long. Any minute one of the guards would stroll to the pool to check in with the missing man. He and Daria might have a few more minutes before they realized the man wasn’t in the restroom, or in the kitchen pilfering a late-night snack.

Sweat beaded on Ryon’s forehead and neck, and not just from nerves. The room was unbearably hot, his leg killing him. Not a good sign. Forcing the discomfort from his mind, he walked back to Daria.

Hunched over, she punched in another series of numbers. Waited. Then, like a miracle, a spreadsheet filled the screen. All the information they needed, at their fingertips. Smiling, Daria raised a fist in victory.

“It’s all here. The drugs they used on the shifters, names of their victims—or test subjects as the assholes called them—names of doctors and others in their employ. All sorts of damning evidence.”

“God, this is so much more extensive than what we recovered from Bowman’s last testing site.” Something caught Ryon’s eye. “Look there. It says Medicinal Countermeasures for Morphing Agents, and it looks like a recipe. Does that mean what I think?”

“It’s an antidote,” she breathed. Typing fast, she opened a window and, following Ryon’s direction, began to send the all-important files to the Pack compound’s server.

He contacted his commander. Nick, we’ve got it! All the files are coming your way, and it looks like there’s a reversal drug for the shit they did to Ben and the others.

After a couple of seconds, the man answered in relief. Great job. As soon as it’s sent, get the hell out. Time is short. I’ll get our lab people working on the antidote and try to have it in hand when we fly out to