Alpha’s War (Bad Boy Alphas Book 7)

Nash

Denali’s gone pale and my lion’s snarling, wanting to fix whatever’s broken here. Except how does a ruined lion fix anything?

“I’m sorry—I wasn’t in any position to go back for you.” Her fingers bunch and twist.

My brows shoot up. Jesus. Is that what she’s upset about? She’s suffered survivor guilt all this time?

Fuck, I know more than a little bit about that. My flashbacks aren’t only from Data-X. They’re from Afghanistan, too.

I can’t stop myself from snatching her shoulders and pulling her into me until we’re nose to nose. “You think I would’ve wanted that?” I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but I need her to understand this. Need to help her release the guilt. “Never. I never wanted you near that place. You getting free was the only goddamn comfort I had in there. Understand?”

She blinks up at me, her chocolate brown eyes glinting with gold and caramel in the light. She’s pierced her nose since I saw her last. A tiny gold hoop loops through one nostril. It’s fucking perfect on her. Her hair is back to its natural brown, too. When I met her, she’d bleached the tight curls a tawny gold.

Her throat moves as she swallows. “I’m sorry.”

I force myself to release her. “No, I’m glad you got out. And I understand why you stayed in hiding.”

For a brief moment she stiffens, and my lion knows something’s off again, but I have no idea what. She changes the subject. “I heard the lab burned down. Did you…?”

“Yeah. That’s when I got out.” I confirm. “And I helped burn the second lab, too. Bombed both places to the ground. Dr. Smyth is dead.”

“Good,” she says fiercely. Our gazes meet and for once, we’re on the same page. Both of us burning for revenge.

She clears her throat and looks down at her neatly trimmed fingernails. “I ran out of habit. Years of looking over my shoulder. Afraid someone would hunt me down and drag me back to that place. I guess… I saw you and panicked.”

Thank fuck.

I’m breathing faster than normal at her confession.

She’s not afraid of me. Her instincts took over at she ran. Except shouldn’t her instincts tell her I’m safe? That I’m the one guy who would never, ever hurt her? The one who would die to protect her?

Or are her instincts as damaged as mine?

My gut twists as a new thought hits me. She ran because I am a danger to her. I shouldn’t have come—I’m a fucking loose cannon. But I keep clinging to the hope that being with her will heal my sick lion.

I have nothing to offer but a damaged soul and a dying body. But worse, the violence in me eats me from the inside out. And I would never, ever put her in danger. I’m not my father.

“And now?”

She licks her lips and I track the movement of her tongue. My balls draw up tighter. “It’s ah… good to see you. I’m glad you made it out, too.”

It isn’t an invitation. Not really, but I can’t stop my hands from sliding onto her hips, then around to her firm backside. She’s built like an athlete—with long, lean runner’s legs and the perfect amount of junk in the trunk.

She stumbles up against me when I pull her closer. Not resisting, but not giving in yet, either. Of course, she has no reason to surrender to me. Her lioness may know its mate, but the two of us? We’re practically strangers.

She doesn’t feel like a stranger to me, though.

“You gonna invite me in? Just for cup of coffee or something?” My lion’s ready to throw her over my shoulder and carry her straight to her bedroom, but the more civil part of me remembers to rein it in. Take it slow. She bolted out the door the minute she saw me, for fates’ sake. She’s not going to lie back and offer herself up on a platter.

She hesitates. “Yeah. Sure. But I have somewhere to be by 4 p.m.”

I settle my hand on her lower back and guide her back to her place. As reach her back gate, I stoop to pick a little purple blossom and offer it to her. “Favorite flower.”

Some of her wariness eases, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Wildflower.” She takes it and brings it to her nose. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I remember everything about that night.” That’s the truth. Sometimes I can’t remember my own name, but I will never, ever forget the moments I had with Denali. My lioness.

Denali

The door closes with a final clang. They delivered me, naked, to this male. I don’t know how long I’ve been captive—a week or so—but it’s long enough to know the guards are trouble. They treat me all right, but other prisoners aren’t so lucky.

A low growl rumbles in the male’s throat, but it’s not for me. His arms banded around me protectively the moment they pulled the sheet away and tossed me in. He’s big, solid. His hair is military short, and his stance reminds me of a soldier. But he’s not a human. He’s a lion, like me.

“So.” I blow out a breath. “What do we do now?”

He holds me, his body angled in a way I realize hides me from the cameras. I’m tall, with a strong, athletic build, but he’s even bigger. I hunch against him, grateful for the protection.

“They shouldn’t bother us the rest of the night, if we cooperate,” he says. “I’m Nash. What’s your name?”

“Denali Decker.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he says.

I take a step away from him. Is he serious? This isn’t a fucking date. As soon as I pull away his hands drop. I sense him being careful not to move, scare me, and it makes me even more angry. “What does it mean to cooperate?”

He glances to the bed, and away. I’ve been in this place long enough to know what he means.

I shake my head. “This is fucked up.” I whirl on my toes to face the door, ready to rant, ready to pound the walls and demand to be let out, to be treated with common decency.

“Don’t.” There’s urgency in his tone. I turn. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes blaze—not with anger or defiance. No, it’s worry. Warning. He’s afraid for me. “Please, don’t.”

Fates. To see such a big strong warrior afraid sends spikes of fear through me. What chance do I have in here? “You’re not going to fight?”

He shakes his head. “Not with you here.”

“You’re strong enough to take them.”

“Some of them. But not all. And then they’ll hurt you.”

Just like that my bravado is gone. Who am I kidding? They killed my pride right in front of my eyes. Shot them with quick, military precision. My beloved grandfather with a bullet through the skull. I’d do anything to go back and cooperate. If I had, I might have saved them.

I wrap my arms around myself. “So we’re just supposed to…” I nod to the bed. “And if I don’t…”

Again, he shields me from the camera, herds me back toward the cot without touching me. “We’ll do what they tell us to do,” he says, but I think it’s more for the watchers. I sense he’s trying to convey something else to me. His gaze is intent, bursting with a message. Or a promise. He’s not going to hurt me.

The backs of my knees hit the cot and I sit down. He crouches in front of me, hands on my thighs. The silent communication is still there. Like he’s willing me to understand something.

Every cell in my body is suddenly aware of the nearness of his masculine form. Even though I’m appalled by our situation, a slow thrum begins to pulse between my legs. I imagine those strong hands sliding higher.

“Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?” I try to joke.

His thumbs stroke tiny circles on the insides of my legs.

Something flutters in my belly. Excitement? Can’t be.

“This is so fucked up,” I repeat. “We don’t even know each other.”

“Gold,” he says.

“What?”

“My favorite color is gold. What’s yours?”

“I… purple.” If he wants to play this inane game while the guards watch via camera, who am I to argue?

“Purple and gold,” he muses. “The colors of royalty.”

“The lion is the king of the beasts,” I point out dryly, and, sure enough, his mouth twists in a grimacing smile at the irony. Two powerful apex predators, locked in a cell together. Forced to breed.

My breath catches. My gaze falls to his hands, large and rawboned. Powerful enough to kill, but his touch is gentle. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad. Fates, what if it was actually… good?

When I meet his gaze, he’s watching me. My cheeks heat.

“Favorite flower?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I like whatever’s in season—growing in the wild.”

“Wildflowers.” He tilts his head, a half-smile spreading over his handsome face. It makes him look younger, almost boyish. “See?” He squeezes my leg playfully. “We’re getting to know each other.”

I blink at the flower, willing myself not to tremble. Nash and I shared only one night, but it seemed to encompass an eternity.

He tucks the flower behind my ear, and I gasp at the state of his knuckles, the swollen, bruised skin. Why hasn’t he regenerated? Something’s wrong with his lion.

“What happened to your hands?”

“Fights.”

Panic steals my breath. “Data-X?”

Violence surges into the air just at the mention of the sadistic, government-backed company that imprisoned us. The one that promised me control of my lion but ended up being nothing but gene mining, forced breeding, and endurance testing/torture.

“Not them. I fight for a living. I have to. My lion—he needs to fight.”

I take a moment to sense his animal again. There’s a wild, reckless quality to it, almost like static, never settling. “He’s sick.”

“Definitely.” Nash slides his arms around me suddenly, and I go still as he presses his face to my neck. “I tried to stay away. But I need you.” His voice drops an octave, guttural sound. “Mate.”

My breath hitches. I have nothing to offer this male. I’m barely scraping by myself. And yet it’s literally impossible for me to push him away.

He needs me. He’s broken, and I might be able to heal him. “Shhhh.” I stroke his back. “It’s all right. I’m here.” For now.

“Denali, I can’t…” He raises his head and I kiss him. I can’t give him much, but I can give this moment. This connection. Bodies seeking pleasure together. Animals communing.

I can give him what he gave me last time. Make it good. I want to do this for him.

Oh, who am I kidding? I want this for me, too.

Instantly, his hands grip my ass, and he lifts me easily. I wrap my legs around his waist, dragging my needy core over the bulge of his cock.

“Bedroom?” he pauses enough to ask.

“Second door on the left.” I weave my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. I have a moment of panic when he almost stumbles into the wrong room, but he kicks open the correct door and lays me on the bed.

“Is this okay?” He frowns. He knows I’m hiding something. Or he’s still the gentleman.

I sit up and pull off my t-shirt. His hungry gaze lands on the swell of my breasts above my red bra. “I need you.” It’s the truth. I pull him down on top of me, craving his delicious weight between my legs. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon rises between us. I kiss him hard, tongue darting between his lips. I’m desperate for him to be with me, to believe me, and not dig up secrets better left unsaid.

There’s a frown between his brows, but it doesn’t stop him from taking charge like I knew he would. He moves on top of me, settling his hips in the cradle of my legs as his tongue thrusts into my mouth.

“Denali,” he breathes, his hand rough on my breast. He yanks down the cups of my bra and feasts on one nipple, nipping and sucking and pinching it before he moves to the other one.

I moan, legs thrashing beneath him, pelvis thrusting up to rub my needy parts over his erection.

I pull his t-shirt up, rake my nails over his skin. He growls, hips snapping.

“Do you have a condom?” I gasp.

He jerks back, blinking as the amber glow of his eyes fades to hazel. “Yeah.” His voice is two octaves deeper than usual. He digs out his wallet and produces a condom.

I reach for the button on his jeans, but he grabs my wrists and pins them beside my head. “I need to taste you first,” he growls.

Oh fates, yes.

“You gonna be a good girl and keep your hands up here while I lick you, baby? Or do I need to tie you up?”

Holy hell, it’s like he tapped right into the fantasy I had earlier.

I push my wrists against him. “I’m never a good girl.”

It’s a challenge, and I’m not sure whether he’ll take it. We don’t know each other well enough for sex games, really. Hell, I don’t even know enough about sex with other shifters to know if this kind of play is safe.

Except it feels so right. And Nash’s answering grin is pure wickedness. Keeping my hands pinned with one of his large palms, he rolls me over and works open the clasp on my bra.

“Do you know what happens to bad girls, Denali?” He ties my hands with the bra in seconds flat. A true boy scout. Or soldier.

“What?”

He rolls my hips to the side and slaps my ass. It’s a hard, commanding slap and it goes straight to my core. My pussy clenches and a shaky mewl slips out of my mouth.

His grin widens. “Oh baby, I’ve imagined claiming you again for a thousand nights, but I never pictured it this way.”

I lick my lips. My ass tingles where he smacked me and the pulse in my clit takes all my attention. “Why not?”

He lets out a harsh curse and smacks me again, twice, then returns me to my back and works open the button on my shorts. “Need this pussy,” he growls. “Gotta taste.”

I’m unbelievably wet by the time he gets my shorts down. He’s still dressed, and I’m fully bared to him, which only makes me hotter. I slide my legs wide as he kisses down my shuddering belly. He flicks my belly button with his tongue, then licks his way lower. Hooking his hands under my knees, he spreads me wide.

“Is all this for me, baby?” he asks before tracing my inner lips with his tongue.

I jerk against him, but he holds my pelvis down, getting on with business.

And he definitely means business.

I haven’t forgotten Nash’s skill in bed, but after such a long drought, it’s even more devastating. Every flick of his tongue has me moaning. My wrists are bound together with the bra, but it’s not attached to anything so I bring my hands down to grip his head. He doesn’t have enough hair to pull, but I push him down, lift my pelvis to rub up.

He toys with my outer lips, nipping me.

I moan and writhe, needing more.

He sucks my clit, then works two fingers inside me.

I start coming almost immediately, he finger-fucks me roughly, pounding his knuckles to get deeper while his tongue flicks rapidly over my most sensitive nerve-bundle.

“Nash!”

“Aw, that’s it, baby. Come for me. I need to see you come.”

“Yes, yes!” I scream, my pussy squeezing and releasing as the storm passes through me.

He slows the movements of his fingers until it becomes a slow undulation, then a possessive cupping of my mons. He rises over me and kisses me hard, my scent on his lips.

He works the bra off my wrists while he kisses me, but then surprises me by flipping me to my belly and binding my wrists behind my back.

Oh goodie.

I’ve never had sex like this. Never playful. Never kinky. Nash was already the epitome of masculine attractiveness to me, but this? This is like sex in another dimension. It’s every fantasy and desire I’ve had plus all those I never dared dream rolled up into one.

“Since you’re having a hard time with your hands, I’ll have to give you a little more help.” Nash’s breath is short, like he’s already panting for release.

He’s already brought me to orgasm twice—he must have balls the color of blueberries.

“And I think you liked having your ass smacked, didn’t you, baby?”

I tense for more spanking, but it doesn’t come. I realize he’s waiting for my reply.

“Yes,” I admit.

“Yes, sir, is usually how this works.” There’s a chuckle in his voice.

I’m getting swoony just over the fact that he knows how this works. Whatever this is.

“Yes, sir.” My voice is so husky I don’t recognize it.

He lifts my hips until my knees slide up under me, so I’m resting on my upper body with my ass in the air. “Mmm, now that’s a beautiful sight.” He slaps my ass a couple times. I want more, but he reaches for the condom. I hear the crinkle of the packet and then he’s there, pressing at my entrance.

“Yes.” I utter the word like his cock is my salvation. Maybe it is. I want him so badly. Want the sensation of him filling me. Claiming me. Using me.

He groans as he pushes in, his large cock angled perfectly to seat deeply. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in. He doesn’t move. I feel his thighs shake against mine, the pulse of his thick manhood inside me.

“Fuck, Denali. Fuck. You feel so good. Better than I remembered. Better than anything.” He’s babbling. Offering his words up to the Gods of Sex. Of lions and lionesses.

Finally, he moves. Out and then in. He slams home like he couldn’t stand the half second of retreat. “Baby, I’m losing my mind already.”

Who am I to complain? He already got me off twice. But I start giving orders. “Fuck me, Nash. I need it harder.”

He curses and jackhammers into me, stuffing me so full of his cock I lose my mind, too. Slap-slap-slap. His loins smack against my ass, his balls catch my clit. He drives deeper and harder and faster.

My eyes roll back in my head, my teeth chatter.

His roar bounces off the walls. I scream. We both come in a monumental orgasm.

Before I can recover, he’s freed my hands from the bra and he pushes me to my belly. His fingers lace over the top of mine as he fucks me slowly, taking his time now, like he’s savoring the feel of me. Or he doesn’t want it to end.

Hell, I don’t either.

My mind is beyond blown. I’m still orbiting the moon.

Nash’s mouth finds my neck. He bites and kisses and sucks. Traces the place where he marked me.

My pussy squeezes his cock. My lioness purrs.

Nash releases one of my hands and works his under my hips. Still rocking in and out of me, he lazily rubs my clit. I’m not ready to orgasm again. I’m too relaxed. Too replete.

Nash isn’t in a hurry. It’s just pleasure for the sake of pleasure now. No rushing to a finish line. Just two bodies communing. Two animals purring.

My mind wants to race around this problem. Figure out what to do with Nash when we’re done. How to side-step our connection. But my lioness won’t let my mind follow any thread of thought. It’s only the rightness of Nash moving inside me, the glory of his touch, his scent.

And just when I reach the point where I need Nash to either stop or move forward, he pounces—quick, and powerful. I find myself on my back, Nash shoving my knees wider to make way for his thighs. “Gotta fuck you again, my queen.” He thrusts into me.

I gasp at the power of the drive. My mouth opens with a cry, head falling back, chin arched to the ceiling.

And then he’s driving hard again. The king of beasts, plowing his way home.

Lights explode behind my eyes. I’m suspended in time—hurled into an explosion of carnal pleasure. I think the snarling sound comes from me, but I can’t be sure. The room shakes with our roars, bed slamming against the wall.

He fucks me way too hard, but I love every second of it. I crave this pounding contact, need more, more, more.

“Yes, Nash—yes!” I scream. My nails dig into his back, I think I bite him, although I’m not sure where. My eyes flip back in my head and the room spins.

“Nash, oh fates, Nash,” I mumble, chanting his name on repeat mode until the swells smooth and I’m floating on a still, quiet bed of blankets.

Nash crashes beside me, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his light brown chest hair curls. I trace the tattoos across his chest. He turns into me and strokes a hand up my side to cup a breast. “Keep saying my name like that, my queen, and I’ll never let you out of this bed.”

Nash

My world—no, my entire universe—just shifted and rearranged. This is where I belong. In Denali’s bed. Satisfying my mate.

Except I have nothing to offer her but a ruined animal and a male who fights with his fists for his dinner.

Still, my beast kneads his paws, a new strength pouring through my veins. Just being with Denali, mating with her again, revives my tattered spirit. I don’t know why I need my mate so much, but I do. It’s the first time I’ve lifted my head and looked around since I broke out of the lab. No, since before Afghanistan.

Denali doesn’t look at me, caught in her own musings.

Fates—I have no clue what she thinks of all this. Our physical attraction is undeniable, yes. But while she appears content, she’s not giving off the let’s move in together and play house energy. No, she’s definitely giving off a solitary lioness vibe. More like, thanks for the orgasms, catch ya on the flip side.

I should give her space.

No space, my lion growls. Don’t let her out of your sight again.

But that’s crazy. I’m not a stalker. Okay, yeah, I just chased her up a hill and tackled her to the ground, but I couldn’t help myself.

And that’s precisely why I need to give her space. My lion is not well. I’m dangerous. And I definitely don’t want to fuck this up.

I sit up and roll off the bed, recalling that she had to leave by 4 p.m.

Denali

“What time is it?” I reach for my phone and get a chill. It’s almost 4 p.m. “I have to go.” I rise and grab my shorts.

“I know.” Nash bends over to tie his boots, gorgeous muscles glowing in the lazy afternoon light. There’s a heaviness to his tone that makes my chest tight.

He knows what I’m going to say.

So I say it. “Yeah. You should go.” I face the wall as I shrug on a shirt, wincing at how cold I sound. “I’m sorry. I have a life. A job.”

I barely hear a step before he’s at my back. “This isn’t over, Denali.”

My heart lurches and skids. Of course not. It’s too much to ask, to share one more afternoon and then part ways.

“I’m late. I have to go. Please, Nash.” I turn to plead with him.

His expression is shuttered. He nods.

“It’s probably not a good idea for you to come back.”

Well, that came out sounding wishy-washy. Because my lioness is scrambling my brain. She doesn’t want him to walk away. I’m not even sure I want him to walk away. But I definitely need to proceed with caution. It’s not just about me. I have Nolan to protect.

His frown tells me he doesn’t agree.

“Walk me to the door?”

He escorts me with a hand on my back. Ever the gentleman. He had manners, even when we were trapped in a cell.

“So where do you live? How can I get in touch?”

“I’m in San Diego. Not far. I’ll give you my number.”

I enter his phone number into my cell. He doesn’t ask for mine in return, but if he found me here, he probably already has it. “It was good to see you.” I mean it. As troubled as I am by his appearance, I also hate saying goodbye. I lock the door. “I’ve got to run.” I kiss him on the cheek—and jog to my car. Somehow he arrives before me, and opens the door.

I get in and focus on turning on the car, ignoring him as he leans over me. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “But I’m late. I really have to go.”

I pull out of the drive, leaving him standing there, watching me go. Everything in me wants to turn back, run into his arms, tell him everything.

I shake my head, and the flower falls out of my hair. Somehow in all our lovemaking, it hung on. Until now. It lies on the floor, battered but still beautiful. Like the lion I left. A brutal fighter with a sick animal. My mate.

What the hell am I going to do?

Nash

I follow Denali’s beat up hatchback through town. She’s hiding something. Normally I wouldn’t stalk a female, but my lion insists. She’s my mate. Even if I’m in no shape to take care of her.

She’s done well for herself. From the information Sam forwarded, she has her own small business running errands and taking care of homebound elderly. She pays most everything in cash. Still living mostly under the radar.

Her old car runs a yellow light and I pull through a gas station parking lot to keep her in my sights. She wasn’t kidding about being late. Either that she drives like a maniac. No matter. I catch up with her easily, almost pulling flush with her car. She doesn’t notice me following her. A little frown of concentration mars her forehead.

My lion admires her. He hasn’t been this happy in… ever. My animal was born in blood, triggered in battle. I’ve never known him to be anything but a stone-cold killer.

Except with Denali. Drumming my hands on the steering wheel, I realize I’m grinning.

She let me into her bed, even though she wasn’t entirely happy to see me. But afterward, she certainly was in a hurry to get me out of her life. That just shows she’s smart. No matter. Even if I should, I’m not about to let her go.

She stops briefly at a grocery store, coming out with two bags before continuing on. She must have more errands because she doesn’t head home, but back to the main boulevard until she turns into the parking lot of a low building with a fenced playground.

What is she doing at a preschool?

Denali disappears into the building. A minute later, she exits, holding the hand of a little boy.

My entire body turns to ice.

A cub.

She has a cub. But… who’s the father? She wasn’t pregnant when she met me, and I mate-marked her. Who would dare touch her after that? A human? As I blink away the red haze, there’s a crunching sound. I broke the steering wheel. I tear open the car door, my legs eating up sidewalk. Mine, my lion growls. Mine.

Denali looks up. Shock and fear cross her face, followed by anger. The little boy has his head down, oblivious. She steps in front of him.

“Stay back, Nash.” Her chest rises and falls. She’s gearing up to fight me. Momma lioness prepared to protect her cub.

Does she think I’ll hurt him?

Well yeah, I did storm out of the car mad as fuck. She’s right to fear me. Hell, even I fear my lion most days.

The spice of her scent hits me and I stop in my tracks. The little boy peers around her. I suck in a breath.

His face and hair are pure Denali, only a few shades lighter. But the boy’s eyes are green, like mine.

Denali

No, no, no.

“Nash,” I warn. “Back off.”

He does, stepping off the sidewalk. I hurry Nolan past him and get my son into his car seat.

“Here, baby.” I hand him a juice box and his usual snack. Just keep calm. Stay normal. Even though all my plans have gone to hell.

“Who’s that, momma?”

I glance back. Nash is rooted, staring right at Nolan. His son.

“He’s a… friend.”

The boy sniffs, scents the air. “He’s like me. He’s a lion.”

“Yeah, baby. But we don’t talk about our animals in public, remember?” I shut the car door, and head to face Nash.

Damn, this is so fucked up.

“What the hell?” Nash chokes out.

“Quiet,” I hiss, even though he’s only said what I’m thinking.

“Who is that?”

“My kid.” I lift my chin and hold my ground.

“How old is he?”

I close my eyes, willing this moment away. I’ve imagined it a hundred, a thousand times. I don’t know whether I wanted it to happen, or just knew it would.

“Denali, how old?”

“Three,” I whisper. “He’s three.” I’m almost dizzy, helpless to stop this moment. For the past three years, my whole life has been centered around protecting this one vulnerability: my sweet boy, currently eating his goldfish and drinking his juice in his car seat.

“He’s mine.” He starts to push past me, but I block his path.

“Stay back,” I warn.

He stops, craning his head to look around me. “You don’t want me near him.” It’s a statement, not a question and it hits me like a two by four across the ribs.

He’s right, I don’t.

And yet, haven’t I wished a thousand times that Nolan had his daddy in his life? Haven’t I imagined what a good father Nash would be?

But that was a different Nash. One I conjured out of memories and fantasy. One who doesn’t exist. This Nash looks like he’s barely holding on to basic living.

My shoulders sag. “Nash, I just—I don’t want him hurt. I can’t let him get attached to someone who’s not going to be a part of his life.”

A muscle in Nash’s jaw flexes. “Who says I’m not sticking around?”

I press my lips together. “I never said you could.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. He has a legal right to be in his son’s life whether I want it or not, but he doesn’t challenge me. He rubs his stubbled jaw, still trying to peer past me at our son.

The static-y quality to his animal grows louder.

I shiver, my lioness senses telling me I’ve made a mistake, but I ignore them.

“You have a son.” The awe in his tone would make more sense if he’d said we have a son. The omission sets of alarm bells for me.

“Yeah. His name is Nolan. He’s pretty awesome.” I ignore the stabbing desire to share Nolan with Nash—for him to review and soak in every milestone he’s missed. To laugh with me over the cuteness I endure on a daily basis. To love him as much as I do.

“Denali,” Nash chokes. “I didn’t know.”

I can’t stop myself, the words tumble out and expand between us. “Come back this weekend. Maybe we could go to a park and hang out or something. You can meet him. If you don’t tell him you’re his dad.”

Agent Dune

Charlie scales the rope hanging from the skylight of his target’s mansion and slips out, gently replacing and sealing the domed covering.

Bugs successfully planted in international smuggler Duke Ducey’s home. He had to rush back from his personal jaunt to Tucson to obey these orders.

Quiet as a cat, he slips over the edge of the roof, hangs from his hands, and throws his body away from the house, over the seven-foot metal fence. Landing noiselessly in a deep squat, he pulls up the black mask that covered his pale skin and stays in the shadows as he walks swiftly up the block to where he parked a car under cover of some bushes.

He calls his handler as he drives away. “It’s done. Feed should be live. Check it.”

“Already on it,” Agent Ann Gray sings, the clack of her fingers flying over keys audible in the background. She’s a thirty-something analyst—never been in the field, but highly utilized for information security and transmission. “Yep, feed is live. I’ll have it stored on the Degas server and to yours. Anything you want me to monitor for?”

“No, I’ll handle it.” He hesitates. “I need you to look for something else for me, though. For a different case.”

“You bet. What it is?”

“A lab in Mexico City that burned to the ground eighteen months ago.”

She goes quiet. “This is a personal request?” There’s a tautness in her voice.

Fuck. He doesn’t know Gray well enough to ask this favor. She seems eager to please, but that means she’s eager to please her superiors, too. Their superiors.

The ones who told him to stop nosing around the Data-X case. His job had been to bury it. Not dig it up.

You don’t know what you are. The taunt of Jared Johnson, the cage fighter he picked up and questioned in Tucson rings in his ears.

He’d trailed Nash’s associates—the ones connected with the lab fire—to Arizona, where they staged another fight. Charlie got inside, but the local police showed up and blew his cover. His only option was to take over—to make sure they pulled in Jared, one of the fighters, for questioning. Because Charlie saw his eyes change, just like Nash’s had in Afghanistan. Just like he remembered his father’s changing. Jared is one of them—the superhumans who’d been created or enhanced in the government-funded Data-X lab. And Charlie needed to know more about the project. How his father was connected. What happened to him.

And his government clearance didn’t go high enough to get that information. He was chasing it down on his own. And after Jared’s comment, the pursuit became something beyond curiosity. Now it borders on obsession.

He researched everyone around Jared—from his pretty blonde attorney to her partner Garrett Green, whose name is behind the warehouses where the illegal fights were being held in Tucson, to Garrett’s sister, Sedona, who had a missing person report filed on her in Mexico. All of the people associated with the fights were in Mexico City at the time of the lab fire, just like the San Diego cage fighters had been involved in the Data-X fire.

Yet he hadn’t found much in the government files on the Mexico City lab. Not even redacted, above his pay grade information.

“Yeah, it’s personal.” He blew it his breath and waited.

Gray waits a beat. “Am I going to get in trouble for looking?”

He recognizes his opportunity. She hasn’t refused yet. She wants to help. “I haven’t been given a direct order not to investigate.”

She lets out a strangled laugh. “That’s probably because no one knows what you’re up to.”

Does she? She must know something about Mexico to even question his motives here.

“Tell me something, Dune. Why are you so interested in these lab fires? Did you lose someone?”

He hesitates. “Yeah.” It’s a lie, but he hopes it will gain her sympathy. Could be a huge mistake, though. If she thinks he’s out for revenge, she might not give him anything.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft. “I’ll look into the lab. I don’t think we had anything to do with that one, though.”

“That’s what I’d gathered, too. Anything you can get would help—what they’re studying, who they experimented on. Thanks, Gray.”

“Someday I might need a favor.”

The corners of his lips turn up. Favors for favors. What could the lovely play-it-safe Ann Gray need from him?

Intriguing.

“Then you’ll know where to come.” He disconnects the call and stows his phone.

Soon. He might have answers after a lifetime of wondering who—no, what—his father was.