Michel/Striker (2 page)

“You want me to check them out?”

“Actually I’ve had the adolescent Hunters following up the leads.” Raphael grimaced. “They need the practice and they’ve been itching with the need to do something.”

Michel was plagued with the same itch.

Feeling as if he’d been leashed was no doubt a part of the reason he’d become so…consumed with thoughts of Dr. Chelsea Young.

“And?” he asked.

“And I just got a call from Jazz in Bossier City,” Raphael said, referring to one of the adolescent Hunters who’d shown great promise. “She’s heard rumors that a prominent military contractor recently arrived at Barksdale Air Force Base and set up a secret lab in the abandoned bunkers.”

A sick ball of dread lodged in the pit of Michel’s gut. Christ. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that the human military was somehow involved. It was going to be hard enough to hunt down Locke and stop him without adding in…

No. He gave a sharp shake of his head. He wasn’t even going to go there.

Not until they could be sure what was going on.

“What makes her think it has something to do with Locke?” he demanded.

“She thought she caught sight of Locke headed into the base, but lost him in the wetlands that surround the bunkers.”

Michel curled his hands into tight fists. Inside, his cat roared with the need to taste blood.

He was going to stop that bastard. One way or another.

“I’ll find him,” he swore.

Raphael held up a warning hand. “First I want you to discover what his plan is and who’s involved.”

Michel didn’t hesitate. “No problem.”

Raphael gave a sharp laugh. “Whatever you lack, Michel, it isn’t confidence.”

Michel shrugged. He was the best at what he did. False modesty was as ugly as boasting. “You ask, and I deliver.”

“True.” Raphael paused, a worrisome smile playing around his lips. “But on this occasion you won’t have to do it alone.”

“A partner?” Michel scowled. What the hell was Raphael thinking? He always worked alone. “That’s not really my style.”

“It is this time.”

Michel stilled, a chill inching down his spine. Something was up. Something he wasn’t going to like.

“Who’s the lucky Hunter?”

“Not a Hunter.”

Michel narrowed his gaze. “A Suit?”

“An expert on Locke.”

“Who?” He sucked in a shocked breath as he realized just what his companion was implying. He’d suspected he wasn’t going to like what Raphael had to say, but this… “No.”

“No?” Raphael’s voice was dangerously soft, but Michel was too angry to care.

“You want me to rephrase it?” he snarled. “Hell, no.”

Raphael squared his shoulders, his power lashing out like a punch to the gut. Suddenly he was every inch the leader of the Suits.

One badass mofo.

“When I give an order, Michel, it’s not up for debate,” he stated in tones that defied argument.

He was right.

It was Michel’s duty to obey.

Michel glanced toward the sky, a bizarre exhilaration flaring through his body. “Shit.”

***

Dr. Chelsea Young was well aware of the two males standing across the small clearing who’d been watching her with the eyes of hungry predators.

She’d have to be dead not to feel the smoldering heat of their gazes. Plus, the injections of Pantera blood she’d given herself over the past six years had heightened her senses to the point she could feel the prickling power of their inner cats.

Of course she was accustomed to Michel’s unwavering attention. It didn’t matter where she was, or what she was doing. He was always lurking in the background, studying her with a blatant suspicion. She did her best to ignore him. After all, Rage was constantly watching her and she barely noticed him when she was working. But Michel…he disturbed her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Maybe it was guilt. God knew she had enough of that to drown in.

Or maybe it was awareness. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to his raw, male beauty?

She tensed, acutely aware the two males were moving forward.

Damn.

Hastily she set aside her clipboard and rose to her feet. At the same time she covertly studied the two shifters.

Raphael was the more traditionally handsome, but it was Michel who captivated her attention. His features were chiseled to austere lines that were emphasized by his shaven skull. His eyes were the color of bayou moss, and rimmed with black. They could shimmer with a rare humor, or darken with a lethal fury. His skin was the same coppery shade as his cat when he shifted and his body was layered with slabs of muscles that moved with fluid ease.

Not that she’d been staring. Or ogling. Or sneaking peeks like a creeper.

She swallowed a sigh.
Gah.
There was clearly something wrong with her.

First she’d allowed herself to be seduced by a psychopath who’d eventually held her prisoner. And now she was fascinated by a male who made it painfully clear he wanted her far away from the Wildlands.

Yep. For all her scientific brilliance, she was clearly damaged in the head.

With an effort, she kept her expression one of polite interest as she forced herself to focus on the leader of the Suits.

“Raphael,” she said, deliberately ignoring the male who scowled at his side.

“Good morning, Chelsea,” Raphael murmured.

A bead of sweat trickled down her back. Despite the chill in the breeze, the Wildlands managed to feel warm and muggy. She told herself it was heat trapped in the thick foliage and the dappled sunlight that fell across her shoulders. Or even the fabric of the loose scrubs she insisted on wearing instead of the pretty sundresses that had been offered to her by the female Pantera.

It couldn’t be because she was excited that Michel was standing close enough she could feel his delicious heat wrapping around her.

Because that would be…

Pathetic.

She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the male musk that saturated the air. “Is there a problem?” she demanded of Raphael.

“I have need of your expertise,” the older male murmured.

“Of course,” she eagerly agreed. She’d been waiting for an opportunity to go over the studies she’d done on her patients before leaving Benson Enterprises. “I’ve promised I would do whatever possible to help. Let me get my research notes and—”

“They won’t be necessary,” Raphael interrupted.

“I don’t understand,” she said, unconsciously lifting her hand to chew her thumbnail. It was a nervous habit she’d developed after the fire and one she found impossible to break. By the time she went to bed at night, her thumb would be bleeding.

“On this occasion it’s your connection to Stanton Locke that can help us.”

A sick sense of fear washed through her. Any love she might have felt for Locke was long gone, but she still dreaded the day they came to tell her he was about to be punished for his sins.

“You’ve captured him?”

Raphael gave a shake of his head. “Not yet, but we believe he’s in Bossier City.”

She nodded. That was one of the places she’d told them to look for her previous employer.

“I’ve given you a map to his lab there,” she pointed out.

Raphael nodded. “Jazz found the lab and followed a male she believes to be Locke onto the nearby air base.”

Okay, she’d done her part. Right?

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to travel to Bossier City and search through whatever research files we can manage to steal from his lab,” Raphael explained. “You’ll know what we need to bring back to the Wildlands and what should be turned over to the human authorities.”

Ah. That made sense. She gave a nod. “Very well.”

“I also want you to discover what his connection is to the human military.”

Chelsea hissed in horror. She’d desperately hoped Locke would refuse to give in to Christopher’s greed. It was, after all, one thing to use the Pantera blood to try and create a miracle drug that would heal the sick. It was another to use the research to prolong the lives of the rich, or to increase the strength and endurance of soldiers.

A potential threat she hadn’t shared with the Pantera.

Along with her other little secret…

“That’s impossible,” she finally managed to say, her voice thick.

A sudden anger prickled in the air. Michel, of course. Still, it was Raphael who spoke.

“Why?”

She continued to chew her nail, her stomach churning. “If Locke sees me he’ll know something is wrong.”

“You’ll be with Michel,” Raphael said in smooth tones. “No one will see you.”

With Michel? Was that supposed to be reassuring?

God almighty. She should never have come to the Wildlands. After Locke had released her, she could have fled Louisiana and travelled to Siberia. It might have been cold as hell, but at least no one would bother her and she could forget her past.

“It’s too dangerous,” she muttered.

Michel abruptly thrust himself into the conversation. “Are you frightened?”

She instinctively bristled. Somehow Michel always rubbed against her nerves.

“Not for myself,” she said, her gaze skating over his starkly beautiful face before returning to Raphael. It was too hard to concentrate when the disturbing male was standing so close. “But Locke is ruthless. If he suspects he’s been found he’ll destroy all evidence of his crimes. Including any—”

She stumbled over the proper word. Naturally, Michel didn’t have any trouble offering the most vile suggestions.

“Hostages? Lab rats?” he drawled. “Disposable victims?”

Her gaze remained grimly focused on Raphael. “Patients he might have,” she finished.

Raphael nodded, his expression bleak. “It’s a risk we have to take.”

“Why?” She glanced around the small glade surrounded by towering cypress trees and narrow channels of water. It was as close to paradise as possible on this earth. “You have your people safe.”

The two males exchanged a silent glance. There was something they weren’t telling her.

At last it was Michel who spoke. “What about the children he created in his Frankenstein lab?” he reminded her. “Don’t you imagine that Karen would like to find her sons?”

She flinched. She adored the kindhearted woman who’d treated Chelsea far better than she deserved. The woman had been a breeder and was still looking for two sons who’d been born in Locke’s New York labs.

There were few things that she wouldn’t do to reunite Karen with her children.

“Of course,” she muttered.

“Not to mention the danger if he shared our blood and semen with the military,” Raphael piled on. “We have to discover who has access to our DNA.”

God. It was so much worse than they even suspected.

She grimaced, biting her tongue. Hopefully they would stop Locke before he could reveal the superpowers of the potent Pantera blood. God only knew what would happen to the Wildlands if the military thought it could provide super-strength to their soldiers.

“Why me?” she demanded.

Raphael studied the flush she knew was staining her cheeks. She had many talents, but lying wasn’t one of them.

“You know Locke,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “Not any longer.”

The leader of the Suits cocked a brow, not about to let her off so easily.

“You know his preferences in passwords and security. Where he’s most likely to hide his most sensitive information,” he said. “You’ll also be capable of determining what files might help us understand Locke’s purpose in Bossier City and how to find Christopher.” He paused, holding her wary gaze. “Will you go?”

Like she had a choice?

“Yes,” she grudgingly agreed. “But I think it would be better if I went on my own.”

Michel took a sharp step forward, crowding into her space as he glared down at her stubborn expression.

“Yeah, I bet you would,” he growled. “It would be a perfect opportunity to be reunited with your old friends.”

She scowled, but before she could protest there was the soft rustle of grass as Rage abruptly stepped forward.

“Maybe it would be better if I went with her instead of Michel,” the young Hunter suggested, his hand lightly touching her shoulder.

Instantly Chelsea felt better. Not because she had fallen victim to Rage’s easy charm and stunning beauty.

It was just nice to know that not everyone hated her.

Michel, on the other hand, wasn’t at all pleased. His eyes flashed gold as his cat prowled near the surface.

“No,” he growled.

Rage frowned. “It’s Raph’s decision.”

Without warning, Michel reached out to grasp her upper arm, yanking her until she was pressed close to his side. Chelsea blinked in surprise. Did he realize what he’d done? Or how possessive it must look to the other males?

She discreetly attempted to tug her arm free, only to have his grip tighten as he continued to glare at Rage.

“This mission needs the skill of a spy, not a Hunter,” he said.

Danger prickled in the air as Rage took a step forward. Suddenly the lighthearted flirt was stripped away to reveal the lethal Hunter beneath.

“Not if that spy intends to be a jackass,” he countered.

Chelsea held up her hand, the choking heat sizzling between the two males making it difficult for her to breathe.

The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble.

She’d done enough to harm the Pantera.

“It’s okay, Rage. This is my…” The word
punishment
hovered on the tip of her tongue before she changed it. No need to provoke the seething male who held onto her like he feared she was about to bolt. “Duty.”

CHAPTER 2