One Down: Bayou Heat (Pantera Security League Book 1) (2 page)

Hmm.
Cerviel studied his friend and leader. “How do you know he wasn’t lying?”

Raphael looked cagey. “Trust me, we have a special lie detector.”

Cerviel didn’t demand an explanation. They’d learned that the humans who’d been infected with Pantera blood had all sorts of new, unexpected talents. He wouldn’t doubt that one of them was a walking, talking lie detector.

Anyway, if it was a secret, Raphael wasn’t going to share the intel no matter how hard Cerviel might press. It was Raphael’s ability to keep his mouth shut that ensured no one but a handful of Pantera knew about “The Six.”

“And if you can’t reach her in the time allotted—”

Cerviel interrupted his superior with a dismissive, arrogant snort.

“If you can’t reach her,” Raphael repeated, his mouth suddenly tight and grim, his eyes flashing with a grave warning, “burn the place to the ground.”

Cerviel raised one eyebrow.
Now this is interesting.

“No one,” Raph continued, a snarl threading his tone, “and I mean no one, can be allowed to leave the property with intel that could be dangerous to the Pantera.”

“Dangerous? Or deadly?” When Raphael didn’t answer, Cerviel gave him an understanding grin. No, he mused, this wasn’t work for a Hunter—or any civilian member of the Pantera. “Talk to me about the ranch.”

Raphael inhaled sharply. “It’s located in the Star Valley,” he said. “Over a thousand acres of prime real estate with a house the size of a football field.”

Cerviel snorted. “Cozy.”

“I’ll text you the exact coordinates.”

“Do you have an entry and extrication plan in place?”

“You’ll fly to a private airfield. From there a chopper will drop you just outside the hot zone.” Raphael glanced around as the wind rustled through the tangled grass. It was a reminder to both men that the dawn was swiftly approaching. “We’re alone.”

“Never can be too sure,” Cerviel said dryly. “Don’t want anyone seeing me. Ghost stories don’t go down well around here.”

Raphael nodded.

Asshole.
“You going to make me ask?”

Raphael knew exactly who he was talking about it. Same question, different day. “They’re fine. Healthy.”

And the same motherfucking answer.

Not that Cerviel expected anything different. No doubt his parents were relieved they never had to lay eyes on him again. Ghosts were easier to forgive.

“The chopper will return to the same spot as soon as you give the signal you have the target,” Raphael continued. “Or if other…measures were taken.”

“Did you call in the rest of the team? More locations in that message.”

“They’re all in research mode.”

“What about Elyon?”

The male arched a brow. “What about her?”

“The last I heard from her, she was infiltrating the Chinese Triad.”

“She’s fine. Focus on your own work.” The leader of the Suits reached out to lay a hand on Cerviel’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

Cerviel met the male’s steady gaze. “I have skills and a bad attitude. I don’t need luck.”

The puma was glorious. Red and gold under the burnt light of the setting sun. And as it walked down the path, near the water’s edge, it sniffed at exotic plants and tall, thick trees. Granted, they weren’t exotic to some, but to the puma—to her—life in such a wondrous wild land was as foreign and mysterious as it came.

A soft, summer breeze rushed over her fur.
This is where I belong. This is my home.

Near the slow-moving water, three cats played on the mossy ground. They turned to look at her, and one, black with green eyes, called to her with a comical, engaging growl.
Play with us. Fight with us.

She, the red puma, didn’t move. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But something was holding her back. Like a leash on a dog. Though she felt nothing.

We’ll protect you
, promised the black cat, its emerald eyes flashing with truth and passion.
Find your way here…and we’ll protect you.

Overcome with the desire to join them, she sprang forward, feeling the warm breeze on her puma’s face as she took flight. But when she glanced down, around herself, she hadn’t gone anywhere. There was only concrete and steel.

She was caught, like a mouse in a trap. Like a prisoner.

Caged.

Caged!

Hallie wrenched her eyes open as an excruciating pain seared the skin of her neck. Instinctively her hand lifted to touch the collar at her throat, only to jerk away before she made contact with the strange metal. She didn’t know what the collar was made of, but it was a constant irritant even without the jolt of electricity that was currently running through it.

“Wake up, bitch,” a mocking voice called out.

Nostrils flared, Hallie turned her head, her stomach clenching with pure hatred as she caught sight of the man she wished dead every time he descended the narrow flight of stairs into the basement.

He was short and broad with a head that looked too big for his body. There was a small fringe of hair that grimly clung to his bald scalp, and he was wearing a blue suit that had once been perfectly tailored to him, but now strained at the seams. The asshole clearly refused to acknowledge he needed a larger size.

Rick “the Dick” Donaldson.

Meeting his icy blue gaze, Hallie released a low growl deep in her throat. It had taken a few years, but no longer was she afraid of him—no matter what he forced on her, in her. No matter that he kept her naked and seemingly vulnerable. Her hatred fueled her now; every breath, every thought, every plan she concocted late into the night to slice his throat and get the hell out of his cage of misery.

And she would.

Someday, she would.

The man lifted his hand then and Hallie braced herself as he pressed the small device that sent another shock of pain through her body. He laughed his pig squeal laugh as she shuddered. Her hands formed fists and she gritted her teeth against the intensity. He’d get no scream from her.

Fuck him.

Strolling across the cement floor, the arrogant asshole glanced toward the uniformed guard who had risen from his desk in a shadowed corner to stand at attention.

“I have company coming for dinner tonight, Carl. They’ll expect to be entertained,” he said, waving a hand toward the cage. “She needs a bath. Every nook and cranny, if you get my meaning. And put her in the harem clothes. Have you fed her?”

Blinking through the unending waves of pain vibrating through her body, Hallie swallowed her fear. She could handle the guard and the
bath
and the goddamn nooks and crannies, but she knew what ‘entertaining’ Donaldson’s guests meant. And she knew if she fought back, bit, punched, spit, as she had in the beginning, he would kill her. Because he almost had. And she wasn’t going out like that.

The guard moved forward with a shrug. “She hasn’t eaten today.”

A snakelike smile curved Donaldson’s lips. “Good. I want her hungry. So hungry she’ll swallow just about anything.” He pressed his face between the bars of the cage. “Do you hear me, animal?” he taunted.

Fury and disgust thundered through her. His neck was so close. Her fingers twitched with need. She had the strength to do it. Easily, in fact, if the collar she wore didn’t switch on with any presumed threat and squeeze the life right out of her. She’d tested it twice. So she knew.

His eyes moved down her body, settling on her sex. “You’ll be a good girl and open wide. Let Carl get you nice and clean.”

Her lip curled. She could practically taste his blood on her tongue. “Fuck. You.”

Instead of being angered by her words, he was…excited by them, his watery eyes flickering with heat. “Oh, you will. But not until my guests have been satisfied,” he said, blowing her a kiss. “Save your strength, bitch. You’re going to need it.”

Donaldson glanced toward the guard. “Since this is our last night, I intend to make it one to remember for my guests, but once she’s been brought up I want you to start getting things cleaned down here. I was warned there couldn’t be anything left that might give our enemies a clue to what makes our…guest so special.”

The guard shrugged. “Once it’s been disposed of I can start scrubbing the place. No one will find a damned thing when I’m done.”

Hallie frowned. What the hell were they talking about? Last night? Disposed of?

Fear gripped her once again.

An unending nightmare.

Clearly satisfied with the guard’s assurances, Donaldson turned to walk away, a bounce in his step. The man who’d abducted her, hurt her, used and abused her with such deep pleasure was the sort of petty, small-dicked, insecure piece of shit who thrived on the misery of others. And the guard, Carl, who was studying her with a disgusted expression, wasn’t much better. She didn’t know what the man had done in his life to be condemned to spending his days and nights in the basement, but it must have been bad. Or who knew, maybe he got off on it.

Either way, he had very little bite in his bark, and she relished their battles.

Planting his meaty hands on his meatier waist, Carl gave her a look that was supposed to intimidate. “Are you going to behave yourself so I can get you in the shower, or do I need to get the hose?” he demanded.

Hallie bared her teeth. The last time the idiot had come into the cage, she’d taken a small chunk out of his neck. The blood had tasted good, but in retaliation she’d been tied down and beaten black and blue.

Still so worth it.

“Fine.” With an impotent glare, he grabbed the nearby hose and turned it on full blast. He aimed the frigid water at Hallie, laughing as she tried to curl away from the ruthless spray. “You like that, bitch? Won’t stop until you open up. Get to all those nooks and crannies like the boss says.” He moved in closer. “Stupid animal. I could’ve treated you nice in the shower, but you’re the one who wanted to do it the hard way.”

“I like the hard way.” A male voice echoed through the basement. “In fact, I prefer it.”

The hose was abruptly shut off, allowing Hallie to blink away the water so she could catch sight of the stranger who was calmly walking down the stairs. Breath held and her gut clenched, she readied herself for whatever was coming. Who was he? This stranger with the long, silky black hair and eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows. He was tall and lean, and dressed in jeans and a long, leather duster that made him look like an outlaw. Or a pirate. Her skin hummed with cold, but she forced herself to think, assess. He was good-looking. Too good-looking, with a lean, bronzed face and sculpted features emphasized by a trimmed goatee.

Unfazed by her wet, nude form, she crouched, eyes narrowed, ready for a fight. Was he one of Donaldson’s “guests”? Or maybe a new guard? Whoever he was, he’d get nothing from her—not if she was conscious and could use her teeth.

All thoughts took a sharp left as her nostrils flared, and she caught the scent of something she’d never breathed into her lungs before now, but that her body instantly understood and welcomed.

Musk. Raw. Male.

Animal.

It flooded her. Inside and out, and she straightened and then stepped back a foot. As she stared at him, an electric tingle of awareness crawled over her skin, shocking her with its intensity. She didn’t know how it was possible, but whatever he was, she was too.

The cat. The puma.

A hum of beautiful unease went through her. Her dreams, the ones she’d had every night for years, weren’t just a fantasy. Tears pricked her eyes and she rushed to the bars of the cage, wrapped her fingers around the steel.

Seemingly unaware that he was facing the sort of carnivore that humans should flee from or risk being eaten, Carl tried to pretend he was some kind of dungeon badass. He dropped the hose and placed his hand on the gun holstered at his side.

“Guests aren’t allowed down here.”

The intruder reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled toward the guard, his movements liquid smooth. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a guest.”

The guard scowled, pulling his gun. “Who the hell are you?”

The man’s steps never faltered, his smile taunting. “Hmm. Should I say ‘your worst nightmare’? It’s so clichéd.”

Carl nervously swayed from side to side, belatedly feeling the danger that crackled in the air. “Stay back or I’ll shoot,” he threatened.

“Ah.” The stranger lifted his hand to smother a fake yawn. “So we’ve decided to go with the whole cliché thing.”

The guard’s pudgy face flushed with fury. “I swear. I’ll—”

The words were cut off as the intruder moved with blinding speed. One minute he was standing in front of the guard, and the next he was behind him, his hand knocking away the weapon even as he wrapped his arm around the man’s beefy neck. Then he squeezed. Hard.

“Not so brave without the gun in your hand, are you?” he asked.

Carl made a weird, whimpering sound. Like the air being let out of an overinflated balloon.

Hallie didn’t know if it was from the lack of oxygen, or pure fear, but she relished it. How many times had he made her feel just as he was feeling now?

“Please,” the guard at last managed to rasp. “Tell me what you want.”

The stranger’s glowing gaze moved toward Hallie. It seemed to take in everything at once. Her long, bedraggled hair. Her exhaustion, her naked body. The bruises. The fierce refusal to show the gnawing terror that was her constant companion.

“I want you to die,” the man said, his eyes still pinned to Hallie as he gave a sharp jerk of his arm. There was a loud snap, and just like that the guard’s neck was broken. Simple. Efficient. Bye-bye Carl. Then releasing his hold, the stranger allowed the limp body to tumble to the cement floor. “Good boy,” he murmured.

Hallie’s eyes widened as the man calmly stepped over the dead guard and moved to stand at the door of the cage.

“You’re the only prisoner here, correct?”

A toxic combination of fear and a strange, sensual fascination thundered through Hallie. She made a feral noise in her throat, scrambling backward to fold herself in a tight ball. Yes, she felt as if she knew this man. No—her body, her insides, her nose sensed him, understood him. But as he came close, her mind still screamed, warned. Men and pain were too often combined in her world for her not to prepare herself for some new torture.