Undercover Lovers [Urban Affairs 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) (12 page)

“Buildings were cramped and poorly equipped for family living, so families were split up.
I was a baby. My parents tried to hide me, but eventually I was put in a building with other kids and a few human caretakers with assault rifles. My parents died shortly after. I found out later that my mother had been raped and sodomized by security guards. My father had been shot when he shifted and went after her attackers.
Slade lapsed into silence. He might appear calm on the outside, but inside his guts were in turmoil. Talking about his family was akin to driving a knife into his heart.

“I think you have enough.” Jax told the reporter harshly.

“No. I’m okay.”
Slade raised a hand in a gesture of reassurance. If telling his story helped someone else, it would make this worthwhile.
“I was a kid, but there are documented instances of guards shooting Weres who reportedly violated the rules or tried to leave. Medical facilities were poor, and a lot of
shifters died in the camps. We lost a lot of our people.”

“But what about your constitutional rights?” Mike asked.

Slade snorted. “The constitution is for the people. We’re not people, not according to your government. The fact is we
were incarcerated for five years, for no good reason and without due process. The military created fear in the shifters so that they hesitated to rebel.”

Jax sighed. “At least my family was able to stay together. When the new president came into office and closed down the camps we left Texas and headed east for Pennsylvania. My parents were killed in a house fire. It was arson. Somebody didn’t like shifters. They never caught the bastard. I was eighteen and out carousing somewhere. I moved to New York, never forgave myself for not being there.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Slade said. “Times were bad for all of us. I ended up in a state-run orphanage. As soon as I turned eighteen I headed west.”

No one said a word, and the silence spoke volumes. They all stared into space, lost in their own private hells.

Slade had seen urban warfare at its worst, and he knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. More conflict was coming. He hoped it wouldn’t be soon. His tension, and a desire to leave this place, had been growing steadily as the minutes ticked by. He had a gut feeling that something was wrong and impending doom waited just around the corner, or on the other side of the door. Paranoia was a way of life in his business, but through the years he’d learned to trust his gut instincts.

Right now, he tried to chalk his anxiety up to interview fatigue, and he glanced over towards the coffee. He’d already had four cups, black, the way he always drank it.
No wonder I’m wired.
The coffee had to be ice cold by now. He decided to give it a pass. He was about to ask Jordan if they were done when his gut feeling turned into reality. He smelled them an instant before all hell broke loose.

Three men with assault rifles kicked in the door. “Freeze.”

The intruders were dressed in solid black jumpsuits with zippered pockets.
They wore black caps and flak vests, and they carried big guns. They stood in a silent row, three against four, each man measuring the other.

The predator was now the prey. But the prey would not make it easy for them. Slade shook with repressed rage and blood lust. His wolfish eyes saw red as if he were looking through a camera lens with a red filter. The beast clawed at his gut, wild to get out, ready to fight, to kill.
What are you waiting for? Attack!
Slade put all his energy into subduing his wolf. If he wanted to live he had to keep the animal under control. Maybe he could buy a little time by talking. “What’s this all about?”

But there was no answer, no movement at all from the enemy. The men simply watched and waited with weapons raised. Richard Graham appeared between two of the men, smiling, a smug look on his aristocratic face. “This is very accommodating of you gentlemen. Getting everyone together like this makes my job so much easier.” He smoothed back his silver hair and looked at Mike. “Tsk tsk. But I am disappointed in you, Michael. I had high hopes for you once you got all this bad business out of the way. One should never allow their personal life to interfere with their duty.” He walked over to the desk, picked up Jordan’s notes, and glanced through them. “Lies, all of it. I can’t allow you to print this.”

The reporter’s expression clouded in anger. “Ever hear of the First Amendment to the US Constitution? You know the one that says we can gather, publish, and distribute information and ideas without government restriction. I want a lawyer.”

“You won’t be needing one. Unfortunately, you and these three domestic terrorists died while we were trying to resolve a hostage situation. But don’t worry. You’ll die a hero. You were following a lead and gave a heads-up on this location. We’re very grateful.”

Graham walked away and spoke to one of the armed men. “I have a prior engagement, but I’m sure you men can take it from here.” He disappeared through the door.

“He can’t do this,” Jordan spurted, his pale cheeks so suffused with blood his face appeared nearly purple.

“I think he just did,” Mike responded impatiently, without turning to look at him.

Slade said nothing, but merely looked at an equally silent Jaxon. Understanding passed between them.

One of the men in black pointed his rifle first at Slade, then Mike, and then Jordan. “On your knees. Hands behind your heads.” He barked. “You.” He pointed his weapon at Jaxon. “Face down on the floor.” He motioned to one of the other men. “Tie him up.”

So Slade, along with Mike and Jordan, was about to be executed. And Jaxon would be arrested for their murders. His pulse elevated. His wolf wanted out, ready to rip these guys apart. Slade saw himself crushing the man’s throat.
Rage is a powerful emotion
. It made him stronger. He vowed he wouldn’t die. Not tonight. Not this way, in a seedy motel room in New Jersey.

Mike and Jordan looked terrified. Slade knew he couldn’t expect much help from them. It was really four against two. Slade smiled inwardly. An unfair fight. These SWAT guys should have brought more men. From the corner of his eye Slade caught Jaxon’s eye. He gave the tiniest of nods.

Slade’s senses magnified. The slightest scent and the smallest sound took hold and kept him alert to everything happening around him. Adrenaline pumped through his body and his wolf sat waiting for the battle to begin.

The big beefy human came up behind him and Slade felt a
cold gun muzzle press against
the back of his head. His focus centered on the click of the hammer. Jaxon growled. A man screamed. Slade made his move.

Slade could shift in an instant when his wolf smelled blood. He crouched and went for the man by the door. Two huge black paws landed solidly on the human’s chest. Slade pinned him to the floor, enjoying the terrified look in his prey’s eyes. Slade bared his canines, dripping saliva on the human’s face. He wished he could make the kill last, but there was no time. Behind him gunshots sounded. Quickly, he sank his fangs into the man’s throat and crushed his windpipe between powerful jaws. Gurgling noises came from the man’s throat and then stopped in a few seconds. Slade watched the last breath leave his lungs. Satisfied, he sat back, licked the blood from his muzzle, and looked for his mates.

Jax made a magnificent wolf, massive and gray. He stood over his prey, panting and staring back at Slade from intense amber eyes.

Mike had an assault rifle in his hands. He’d taken it from Jaxon’s kill and managed to get off a few shots. The last bullet went through the man’s skull, killing him instantly. Slade’s wolf made a mental note to thank Mike. He had taken down the third man and saved Slade’s life.

Jordan, shaking badly, muttered, “Dear God” and backed into a corner. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. The reporter had bitten off more than he could chew for sure.

A feeling of pins and needles prickled Slade’s skin. His body contorted and bones realigned. Animal and human merged. One last low growl escaped before his muzzle shrunk, and suddenly his human form was sitting on the floor, his clothes bloody and torn.

Slade looked at the man next to him. Half of the human’s face was gone, and the throat torn out. His wolf had done this. Bile rose in his throat. For many years he’d been killing with human weapons. It had been a long time since he had used fangs and claws.

There was no way this man could be alive, but he made himself check anyway. No breath sounds, and the pupils were blown. He was most definitely dead. Slade moved away, not wanting to be near him.

Jax had shifted, and he was checking his victim. He looked up at Slade and shook his head. Slade leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily, tried to relax and allow the sensation of being alive wash over him. It was usually a good feeling. Not tonight. The inside of the motel room looked and smelled like a slaughterhouse. And they weren’t home free. Not by a long shot.

He wanted to be back in LA. Hell, he wanted to be anywhere but in this seedy motel room with the coppery smell permeating everything. For years he had hoarded the money he made, stashed it away, striving for the day he would have resources to quit DSA. He should have done it sooner. Gotten out when he had the chance. He wasn’t sure they could escape this. There was no flying under the radar now. They hadn’t made waves, they’d made a tsunami.

Lost in his own thoughts, Slade didn’t notice Jax approach until a hand came down on his shoulder. The other shifter crouched down next to him. Slade stared into eyes as amber as his own and just as confused. He didn’t know what to say. Thanks seemed inadequate, but it always worked. “You saved my life.”

“Just returning the favor.” Jaxon’s eyes glittered with lust, and he ran his fingers through Slade’s thick, black hair with a low growl of appreciation. “We make a pretty good team.”

Slade felt heat slowly creep up his cheekbones.
Nothing like a kill to heighten a wolf’s sex drive.
If they were alone, he’d throw Jax on the bed and fuck him senseless. A dark brow rose, and one corner of Jaxon’s lips lifted in a faint smile, as if he knew exactly what Slade was thinking. Of course he did. They were the same. Him and Jax. Enough time together and they’d be finishing each other’s sentences. He pulled away with an effort. “We need to get out of here.”

Jax stood and gave him a hand to help him up. “You’re right. There could be others.” He walked over to Mike and hugged him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve had SWAT training. Jordan’s a little freaked.”

“I’m okay,” the reporter blurted out. I’ve been in war zones covering worse. But I have to admit I panicked when I saw you two shift. That was a first for me.”

“Still want to do our story?” Slade asked him.

Jordan nodded and tightened his mouth grimly. “More than ever.” He turned off the recorder and collected his notes. “Mike, you know where the Bulletin Building is. Meet me in the back.” He pulled a small digital camera from the briefcase he’d brought with him and started taking pictures.

“What are you doing?” Slade asked.

“Documentation.” The reporter grinned and jerked his head toward the recorder. “Your boss isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. The recorder was running the whole time he was here. This is going to be one hell of a story.”

Slade felt almost detached. The whole scene was so surreal. “Let’s just speed it up and get out. The story won’t leave the room if another SWAT team shows up.”

“Gotcha.” Jordan packed camera, recorder, and notes in his bag. “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Be safe,” Mike said. He gave him a quick hug.

“I’ll be okay. You guys be careful.” And then he was out the door.

Jaxon looked around at the carnage. “Should we clean up?”

“Are you crazy?” Slade frowned at him. “You can be sure a cleanup squad will be arriving, and believe me, we don’t want to be here to greet them.”

Jax shrugged. “You guys know more about the cloak-and-dagger stuff than I do. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good, then let’s get the fuck out of here.” Slade ushered them out, hoping the death squad hadn’t destroyed the Toyota.

They hadn’t. Mike knew the way, so he drove. Slade sat in the back and kept an eye out for trouble. He breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at their destination without any.

The twelve-story Bulletin Building included first- floor storefronts and housed commercial offices as well as the publishing facilities. Mike drove by the recessed main entrance and parked behind Jordan’s hybrid in the back. Jordan unlocked the door and punched in a security code. He led them over to an elevator and rode up to a staff lounge on the deserted fifth floor.

The small carpeted room was furnished with a
sturdy table and chairs, and a few fake plants. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Jordan threw down his bag and walked over to a
kitchenette area with coffee machine, microwave and a small fridge.
“Going to make coffee.”

Slade’s stomach growled in protest. “Not for me.”

“There should be some juice or ice tea in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Jax stood behind Slade as he rooted through the fridge. Nothing appealed. Slade shut the door. He had no appetite.

Mike flopped on a chair. “When will the staff show up?”

“There’s a few of us here already. We work long hours. I have the dogwatch tonight.”

Mike gave him a funny look.

“It’s just a name they gave to the lousiest shift.
We practically work around the clock.” Jordan chewed on his nails while he waited for the coffee to brew.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Mike asked him. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jordan poured his coffee and started toward the door. “I’m going to see if the editor is in.”

Mike stretched out his legs, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Jax
sat down next to him and put a hand over his. Slade watched them warily, wondering if he’d see either man again after tonight.