Undercover Wolf Read online

  Harley was almost disappointed but knew the man was right. While she’d enjoyed their verbal jousting, she was here for more important things.

  “Do you know if the men you followed down here are supernatural in any way?” she asked. “Or are they normal bad guys holding supernatural victims captive?”

  The British werewolf’s eyes narrowed, and Harley was worried she’d made a big mistake assuming he was aware of creatures besides werewolves out there in the world. But then he shrugged. “I’m not sure how much you know, but the situation is more complicated than that. While those two guys you saw weren’t anything special, I’m almost certain there are other supernaturals involved and that at least one of the people they kidnapped is, too.”

  There was a lot to unpack there, but the implications were staggering. Supernaturals working with humans to kidnap other supernaturals?

  Harley was about to ask him that exact question when she was interrupted by a loud scraping sound coming from the far end of the room. She stared in shock as the whole wall slid to the side. What the…?

  The werewolf immediately lifted his weapon and pointed it in that direction. She did the same, grimacing as a smell hit her in the face so hard she almost choked. With her nose, that was saying a lot. But it was hard to ignore the stench of mud and stale blood. It was nasty as hell.

  Three men stepped into the room. Two of them were the guys the Brit had said were nothing special. The third guy, on the other hand, was definitely supernatural. Not quite as big as Caleb, he was damn close. But the thing that nearly froze her solid as she stood there were his flat, black eyes. Cold and dead, they reminded her of a shark’s. Before she even saw him move, he took a gun out of his jacket pocket and pointed it in their direction with a hiss, displaying more teeth than any human should have.

  Because the thing obviously wasn’t human.

  Gunfire lit up the darkness, bullets filling the air. Harley felt one slice through her waist and another burn a line of fire across her right shoulder. She ignored the pain long enough to put a round through Dead Eyes’s chest, then she was diving to the floor, rolling as she hit and coming to a stop behind a knee-high crate before emptying her magazine into the other two men with him.

  Her werewolf partner had focused on Dead Eyes, too, putting five more bullets in the creature. It didn’t seem particularly bothered by the holes in its body or the dark blood pouring out.

  Harley scrambled for the extra magazine strapped to the inside of her thigh along with the gun holster, then called for backup over the sounds of gunfire, warning teammates about the creature she was up against. As Caleb and Jake asked for additional details, she popped up from behind the crate to put a few more bullets in Dead Eyes. That was when she realized the British werewolf was calling for backup on his own radio.

  She hadn’t expected that but was secretly thrilled at the possibility he was one of the good guys.

  The two men who’d come in with the creature were dead, but Dead Eyes didn’t seem to care as he leaped over them and ran through the doorway, the wall beginning to slide closed behind him.

  Harley and the British werewolf ran for the door at the same time. Instead of trying to slip through the opening that was getting tinier by the second, he grabbed the two dead men and shoved them into the door’s path, stacking them on top of the other. There was a crunch and a pop, but the wall stopped, leaving a foot and a half gap.

  “What the hell was that thing?” Harley asked as the werewolf scooped up one of the dead guy’s weapons and handed it to her, then took the other man’s before searching them for spare magazines.

  “I have no bloody clue.” He tossed her one of the magazines he’d found, then darted his head through the gap in the wall to look into the darkness beyond. “But we don’t have time to wait around and figure it out. Whatever that thing is, we have to assume it’s involved in these kidnappings.”

  Harley didn’t hesitate to follow when he slipped through the opening and into the stairwell, knowing he was right. The creature they’d filled full of holes was down there somewhere right now, either trying to escape with his victims or killing them to clean up the evidence. Either way, they couldn’t wait for backup.

  As they ran down the long, uneven staircase, sounds and random scents from below bombarded her senses. Shouts of anger and confusion were interspersed with screams of terror and pain. The smells were myriad and unusual, and there were way too many of them for her untrained nose.

  “We’re on our way, Harley,” Jake said over the radio. “Hold your position.”

  At least that’s what she thought he said. The reception got crappier the farther underground they went, and she couldn’t be sure of anything that came through her earpiece, but Harley swore her pack alpha said something about chopping off the creature’s head. Or maybe he’d said hand? Both options sounded extreme.

  It was pure bedlam at the bottom of the stairwell as a handful of heavily armed men moved to confront her and the other werewolf. Behind them, more bad guys were dragging half a dozen prisoners out of a row of cells along one wall. Two of the captives were resisting, but the others seemed completely out of it, like they were drugged. Dead Eyes was standing in the middle of it all, shouting orders in a deep voice that echoed off the stone walls even as blood continued to pour out of him in black, sluggish rivulets.

  Harley and the Brit were forced back into the stairwell by a storm of bullets. A werewolf could take a lot of punishment and still keep going, but a bullet through the head or heart would kill them as quickly as anyone else. And unlike the fairy tales, the aforementioned bullet didn’t have to be silver. But retreating wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. All they needed to do was hold the stairs and keep Dead Eyes and his buddies from getting past them with the prisoners. It wouldn’t be long before Jake and the rest of her team found them, then they could finish this.

  But the next time Harley poked her head out to take a quick look, that hope died. The bad guys were headed to the far end of the long room with their captives, and if her faulty nose wasn’t lying to her, there was a scent of fresh air coming from that direction.

  “Crap, they’re getting away!” she shouted. “There must be a back exit out of this place. They probably have transportation waiting for them.”

  The Brit snarled and cursed, which sounded almost sexy with that accent of his.

  “Cover me,” he said.

  Before she even realized what he was doing, he was up and running out of the stairwell straight into the hail of gunfire. Cursing, she loaded a fresh magazine in her weapon, then followed, firing rapid shots at the armed men facing them, focused on trying to hit as many as she could.

  The British werewolf closed on the shooters so fast Harley could barely keep up with him. Under his long overcoat, his body twisted and spasmed in a partial shift she’d never even attempt, his claws and fangs extending even as he continued to fire his weapon. Even though he got hit multiple times, he still kept running toward them.

  Within seconds, they were both in the middle of a group of bad guys. The large automatic pistol they’d gotten off the dead guy earlier locked back on an empty magazine. She flipped the pistol backward to hold it by the barrel, ready to swing it like a club.

  “Go after them,” the British werewolf said, ripping out a man’s throat with claws that had to be an inch and a half long. “Save as many of the captives as you can.”

  She didn’t want to leave him to fight on his own, but she also couldn’t let the traffickers get away with the prisoners. Dropping the borrowed handgun she pulled her 9mm out and ran as fast as she could, praying she didn’t get a bullet in the back for her trouble.

  When she got to the archway at the end of the room, Harley slowed as she realized it opened into a tunnel. It was dark in both directions, but she headed up the ramp, sure that’s where the fresh air was coming from. Dead Eyes’s stench seemed stro
nger in that direction, too.

  Harley raced up the incline to the end of the tunnel and cautiously stepped out into an underground parking garage where she saw two vans disappearing up a ramp and a third starting its engine even as a man in a ragged leather jacket carried an unconscious woman toward the open back doors. Harley sprinted toward it, wishing for once that she could shift enough to run as fast as any other werewolf. But she’d never been able to do that, which meant she probably wouldn’t be able to catch the man before he made it to the back of the van with his captive.

  Sliding to a stop, Harley lifted her weapon, hoping she’d hit the guy and not the woman. She squeezed the trigger slow and steady, just like Jake had taught her, and hit the bad guy in the leg. He went down, the girl tumbling from his arms.

  Harley hurried toward the downed man and van still idling. If she reached it, she might be able to save a few more prisoners. But then a young guy with long black hair hopped out of the back of the van and came at her, a knife in his hand.

  She barely had enough time to mutter a curse before he suddenly disappeared into thin air. Half a heartbeat later, the guy popped back into existence right in front of her, thrusting the blade into her chest at the same time he rammed into her with the impact of a Mack truck. Her 9mm went flying before she could even think about pulling the trigger.

  Hitting the concrete floor so hard she bounced and slid five feet, she fought off the urge to lie there and wait for the pain to subside. She had to find her weapon.

  She rolled onto her side and saw her gun a few feet away. Unfortunately, the guy with the long hair was heading straight for her with that damn knife again. She lunged for her weapon, coming up with it and spinning around to fire all in one smooth move. But the man disappeared before the bullet reached him and it ricocheted into the darkness as the slide of her weapon locked back on an empty magazine.

  Oh crap.

  The man popped back into view by her hip, the blade coming at her throat. She threw a hand up to block the knife only to see the man jerk sideways as the sound of gunfire filled the parking garage. A split second later, he disappeared again, reappearing beside the guy she’d shot in the leg and the still unconscious girl. He moved to pick her up, but the other guy shoved him away.

  “Leave her,” he said. “We don’t have time. We have to get out of here.”

  The guy with the long hair hesitated but then helped his partner in crime up and got him into the van, which immediately sped away. Groaning, Harley started to get to her feet as she heard footsteps coming in her direction. She turned to see Caleb, Jake, and the British werewolf running toward her. Jes, Misty, and Forrest were right behind them, along with two men and a woman she didn’t recognize.

  Jake reached her side first, concern in his dark eyes. “You okay?”

  Harley nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Check on the girl.”

  Giving her a nod, Jake hurried over to the unconscious woman, Jes joining him.

  Caleb frowned at the knife wound, the top of which was visible above the V-neck of Harley’s dress. It had stopped bleeding and was already starting to close up. “You should have called for backup sooner.”

  She nodded. “I know. Go see if Jake and Jes need help.”

  As he strode off, albeit reluctantly, the British werewolf sauntered over, mouth curving.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re bloody awful at this werewolf thing.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that.” She held out her hand with a smile. “I’m Harley Grant by the way. Any chance you’re the one who kept that guy from stabbing me again?”

  His handshake was firm, his warm skin sending a little tingle through her. “Sawyer Bishop. And yes, although I can’t take too much credit since I didn’t get here in time to stop him from doing it the first time.”

  “That’s okay,” Harley said, realizing she was probably grinning like an idiot and had absolutely no idea why. Sure, he was cute, but seriously? “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  Chapter 2

  “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

  Sawyer wondered when someone on his MI6 team was going to bring that up. The question seemed to bounce off the walls in the silent hotel conference room, and he turned away from the window he’d been gazing out for the past twenty minutes to look at his teammate, Elliott Lloyd. Between the breathtaking view from the tenth floor and thoughts of the beautiful female werewolf he’d run into at the club, he was a little distracted at the moment. It was all he could do to think about anything else since setting eyes on her.

  “What’s to talk about?” he asked, trying to sound casual even though he was tense as hell. “We went up against a crew of human traffickers and got our arses handed to us.”

  Stocky, with blond hair, the team’s medic/equipment specialist eyed Sawyer like he was crazy. His other two teammates, Rory Higgins and Erin Nichols, were doing the same. Afraid they’d see the nervousness on his face he was trying desperately to hide, he turned back to the window, forcing himself to concentrate on the scenery.

  Sawyer had been to France more than a dozen times during his years in MI6, but he’d usually been rushing to get somewhere else—or getting shot at. On those occasions when he’d been fortunate enough to spend more than a few hours here, it was always in some safe house in the middle of nowhere. He’d never stayed at a hotel as nice as this one, that was for sure.

  Straight across the Seine, the Eiffel Tower threw shadows in the late-morning sun, with the Arc de Triomphe a little to the north and the big glass pyramid of the Louvre a mile to the east. He couldn’t see it from where he was standing, but the Bastille district and the club they’d been at last night was somewhere in that direction, too. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d get a chance to see any of this beautiful city someday, or whether this was the best he could ever hope for.

  “Don’t act like you didn’t see that woman get up and walk away after having a knife shoved halfway through her chest,” Elliott said in exasperation. “And that was after getting shot at least twice judging by the holes in her dress. She shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

  Sawyer was trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for that, in between breathing a sigh of relief that his teammates had apparently missed his own gunshot wounds, when Erin Nichols, their weapons and tactics specialist, let out a short laugh.

  “I don’t know why you’re so worried about the woman.” Fair with shoulder-length, curly, red hair, Erin was sitting in the same chair at the conference table she’d commandeered when they’d gotten there—the one with the best view of the door. Like she was worried someone was going to kick it in and attack them. “I’m more interested in knowing how the guy who stabbed her was able to disappear from her side one second and show up again fifty feet away. That shouldn’t be possible.”

  Sawyer opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a loud snort. He turned around again, this time to see Rory Higgins, the team’s intel analyst and resident computer geek, shaking his head. A redhead like Erin, his light skin was even paler than usual. He looked plain wrung out.

  “Maybe it isn’t possible, but we all saw it happen,” Rory said. “I think we need to accept last night was about something beyond the possible.”

  Erin’s gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Like what?”

  Rory glanced at each of them in turn before looking down at the floor. In that one second of eye contact, Sawyer saw a mountain of doubt and uncertainty. “I was thinking maybe something…I don’t know…supernatural?”

  Sawyer was stunned Rory had gone there. Had he had a run-in with something strange he’d never told them about? If the room had been quiet before, now they were in that hearing-a-pin-drop category.

  “Supernatural?” Erin stood, moving closer to where the rest of them were, an incredulous look on her face. “Please tell me you didn�
��t use that word with Weatherford and the other agents during the post-mission interview.”

  Rory didn’t answer, but his sheepish expression said it all.

  Sawyer sighed. Clarence Weatherford was their team’s section chief at MI6. Weatherford rarely left the comfort of his London-based office, and as far as Sawyer knew, the man hadn’t been in the field for almost four years. But after the report Sawyer sent in immediately following what happened at the club, saying they’d had a run-in with an American covert team and that something unexplainable had occurred, Weatherford had been on the first plane to Paris. Sawyer hadn’t revealed that three of the Americans were werewolves, but since he knew his teammates had gotten to the garage in time to see Harley get stabbed, he had to at least mention the guy who could disappear at will. When Weatherford had asked pointed questions, Sawyer had been honest about the guy with the freaky, black eyes and all the teeth, too. There was no way he could hide that he and Harley had put more than half a dozen bullets in the guy—there was blood everywhere—or that the thing had simply walked it off afterward. Not when there was a good chance his team might end up running into the creature again in the future.

  “Don’t rag on him too hard, Erin,” Sawyer said. “How else do you describe a guy who seems like he can teleport in the blink of an eye?”

  Erin looked like she wanted to argue, but Sawyer cut her off. “Look. The guy with the knife wasn’t the only strange thing in the building last night. There was another man, I guess you’d call him, with flat black eyes and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. I shot him six times and the female agent from the American team got him a couple more. Any one of those bullets should have killed him, but he shrugged them off like they were nothing.”

  Elliott and Erin exchanged skeptical glances while Rory went even more ashen.

  “He was probably wearing some kind of fancy tactical vest,” Erin said, the words casual, like she wasn’t implying he’d missed something so obvious. “With all the exotic materials out there these days, they can make those vests so light, it’s hard to tell someone is wearing one under their clothes.”