Stolen and Forgiven Read online

  He glared at the middle-aged man with a broad face and buzzed hair. Richard Grant was a rigid, by-the-book ex-military paratrooper who had the personality of a turnip.

  Frank stepped forward, assuming an expression of authority that he’d practiced in the mirror.

  “You have her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any trouble?”

  Grant shrugged, folding his arms over his thick chest. “Not after she was tranquilized. Halak got too close before she was under.”

  Frank arched a brow. “Dead?”

  “No, but he’s missing an ear,” the man said, his voice revealing a lack of concern that was shared by Frank.

  The soldiers who did the grunt work for the SAU were nothing more than tools to be used and discarded when they were no longer of value.

  As far as Frank was concerned, only the science mattered.

  “The female was unhurt?” he asked.

  Grant gave another shrug, his resemblance to a turnip more noticeable than usual.

  “As far as I can tell,” the older man said.

  Frank reached for the leather medical bag that he’d strategically placed on his desk.

  “Perhaps I should examine her,” he said, moving toward the door. “Have her taken to my lab.”

  “No.”

  Coming to a halt, Frank turned back toward his companion. “Excuse me?”

  The man met Frank’s glare with a flat gaze. Did he ever blink?

  “My orders were to have her placed in a cell with a guard in front of her door 24/7.”

  Shit. That’s what Frank had feared. And why he was determined to get her into his lab.

  “She’ll do us no good if she dies before we can get our hands on her father,” he snapped.

  Grant snorted, his face hard with disdain. “It will take more than a tumble from a tree to kill one of those animals.”

  “I still need to-”

  “If you want the female in your lab, then you need to talk with Director Markham,” Grant rudely interrupted, clearly assuming the gun on his hip gave him some sort of power.

  Like every other petty bully, Frank told himself.

  When he ruled the world, a man would be judged on the size of his brain, not size of his muscles.

  “Fine.” He forced a stiff smile to his lips, turning back to the door. “I’ll do my exam in her cell.”

  Grant moved until he was deliberately blocking Frank’s path, his face impassive, although Frank sensed that the man was taking pleasure in denying him access to the prisoner.

  “Not until you clear it with the Director,” he informed Frank.

  Frank stiffened his spine. How dare this…no-neck idiot treat him as if he were nothing more than just another employee?

  “Are you aware that I’m the head of research in this facility?” he bit out.

  Grant rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of who signs my paychecks. And it ain’t you.”

  With a mocking nonchalance, Grant swiveled around and strolled out of the office, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.

  Frank hissed in fury, his hand slipping into the pocket of his white lab jacket to touch the syringe filled with poison.

  Someday.

  But not today…unfortunately.

  “Neanderthal,” he muttered, releasing the syringe as he walked to his desk and took a seat. He took a second to gather his shaken composure before he reached to pick up his cellphone and call the one member of the security division he knew he could trust. “Sinclair, I need you in my office,” he commanded as soon as the other man answered.

  Tapping an impatient finger on the top of his desk, Frank felt each passing second. How much longer did he have before the Director arrived at headquarters? A quarter of an hour?

  Thankfully, Sinclair was in the building, and in less than five minutes, the door was pushed open and the guard stepped into Frank’s office.

  Unlike Grant, the guard didn’t have a military vibe. Instead, he looked like a street thug. He had dark hair hanging to his shoulders and a lean face covered by stubble that needed to be shaved three days before. His body was lean but hard with muscles, covered by a pair of faded jeans and a khaki Henley that stretched across his broad chest.

  Strolling forward, Sinclair offered a lazy smile. Frank, however, didn’t miss the covert glance around the office to ensure they were alone.

  The man wasn’t quite as casual as he liked to pretend.

  Satisfied there was nothing hiding in the shadows, Sinclair turned his piercing blue gaze in Frank’s direction.

  “You called?”

  “Yes.” Frank rose to his feet. “A young shifter was brought in tonight.”

  The man scowled. “There was a hunt and I wasn’t invited?”

  Frank held up a hand. He knew that Grant and his men had occasionally taken shifters and put them in the fighting room that was hidden in the lower levels. They seemed to be fascinated by the sight of the various beasts shredding each other to a bloody death.

  Or maybe they were just fascinated with the vast sums of money that exchanged hands by betting on the matches.

  Either way, it meant nothing to Frank.

  So long as he had the opportunity to study the animals, he didn’t care what happened when they weren’t in his laboratory.

  “This particular shifter isn’t here for your games,” he informed the younger man.

  Sinclair’s interest was lost as he stifled a bored yawn. “What’s so special about this one?”

  “She’s the daughter of the Alpha of the Golden Pack.”

  Something flickered in the blue eyes. “A princess?”

  Frank blinked. Did the shifters have royalty? He didn’t know enough about their politics to be sure.

  “I suppose she might be considered a princess,” he conceded.

  Sinclair shrugged, back to being bored. “What do you need from me?”

  Frank hesitated. He paid this man an outrageous sum for his loyalty, but he was careful not to share his secret agenda. He didn’t trust anyone.

  “The Director isn’t here, and Grant is refusing to let me ensure our prisoner is unharmed,” he finally said.

  Sinclair studied him for a long minute, no doubt sensing there was more than mere concern driving Frank’s interest in the female shifter. Then he gave an indifferent shrug.

  “Grant’s pay-grade is higher than mine.”

  The mention of the aggravating head of security brought a flush of irritation to Frank’s face.

  “I’m sure you could make a trade for guard duty,” he said.

  “I could,” he agreed, narrowing his gaze. “What’s in it for me?”

  Frank hesitated before reaching for the file on his desk.

  He’d heard the stories about Sinclair, of course. He knew the man had a twisted obsession with shifter females. And that once he was done with them, they usually ended up buried in the thickly forested park behind the building.

  Which was why he’d approached the man in the first place.

  A guard without morals would no doubt be willing to do anything. Including deceiving Grant and Director Markham when given the proper…encouragement.

  “Her,” Frank said, flipping open the file to reveal a picture of Cora Wilder.

  Leaning forward Sinclair gave a low whistle. “Nice.”

  Frank closed the file. “Once she’s served her purpose, I’ll make sure you have some time alone with her.”

  A slow, nasty smile curled the man’s lips. “Good enough for me.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “Give me five minutes to convince the guard to exchange shifts with me and then come down.”

  Moving with surprising speed, the guard was jogging out of the office, no doubt anticipating the sick pleasure he intended to take with the female.

  Left alone, Frank hid his grimace. His father would tell him that when he was working in the sewers he should expect to come home covered in shit, but there were still times when his conscience pricked.
/>   Sadly, he didn’t have a choice. Did he?

  He couldn’t create a virus without the proper specimens. And with Markham constantly looking over his shoulder, he had to do something.

  Right?

  Waiting four and a half minutes, Frank left the office and took the emergency stairs down to the hidden basement beneath the parking garage. It was impossible to completely avoid the cameras that constantly monitored the building, but moving with a brisk step, he tried to look as if he were on official business.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door to the long, subterranean room without being challenged by any of the guards.

  With any luck, he would be in and out before anyone paid any attention.

  Moving along the cells built against the back wall, he skirted the brightly lit area in the center of the floor and headed toward the far corner where Sinclair was waiting for him.

  “She’s inside?” he demanded.

  “Yep.” Standing beside the heavy steel door, Sinclair reached out to place his palm against the electronic reader. Silently, the door slid open. Frank stepped forward, only to come to a sharp halt when the guard grabbed his arm in a painful grip. “Don’t forget, doc…once you’re done with her, she’s mine.”

  Chapter 7

  Cora felt like shit.

  Her mouth was dry. Her temples pounded. And her brain felt as if someone had stuffed her head with cotton wool.

  And there was a strange pain in her ass.

  As if she’d…

  Been shot.

  With a sharp groan, Cora wrenched her eyes open, not surprised to discover she was lying naked on a cot in a tiny, steel-lined room. She’d known that the gang of wannabe warriors had been sent to kidnap her as soon as the dart had hit her.

  Why else use a tranq gun instead of just a traditional bullet to her heart?

  What did surprise her was the strange man who was crouched next to the cot, staring at her as if she were a specimen he’d found beneath a microscope.

  “Shit,” she breathed in horror.

  Awkwardly grabbing the blanket that was thrown over her, Cora wrapped it around her naked body and managed to push herself to a seated position. Then, shoving her hair out of her face, she managed to glare at the intruder.

  “Easy,” the stranger murmured, his thin face deeply tanned and his pale eyes filled with a fanatical glow.

  He was staring at her as if he found her a source of endless curiosity.

  Creepy…

  “Where am I?” she demanded.

  He flashed a smile that revealed a perfect row of capped teeth. “Don’t worry, you’re safe.”

  She snorted. Was he for real?

  “Yeah, I might believe that if I hadn’t been shot, kidnapped, and locked in a cell.”

  “It was an unfortunate necessity,” he murmured, trying to sound sincere. “But now that you’re here, I can promise that you won’t be harmed.”

  She pressed her back against the steel wall, trying to ease the shivers that raced through her. Until she managed to regain control of her muscles, it would be impossible to shift.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her voice raw.

  He held out a hand. “Dr. Frank Talbot, Head of Research for the SAU.”

  She ignored his pretense of civility. They both knew she wasn’t a welcomed guest.

  “You brought me here to become a specimen for your research,” she accused.

  He shook his head. “No. Our interest isn’t in you as a specimen.”

  His words were smooth, but she sensed he was lying.

  Or at least, not telling her the full truth.

  “Then what is your interest?” she demanded.

  “Your father.”

  Cora’s fuzzy brain struggled to understand. If they wanted her father, then why didn’t they just kidnap him? Why go to the trouble of taking her hostage?

  Then, slowly, she managed to shake off the last of the fog that was making it so difficult to think clearly. Obviously, they hoped to control Jonah Wilder by threatening to kill his only daughter.

  God almighty.

  They had no idea what they were doing.

  Her father would be...devastated. But more than that, he would go ballistic.

  It terrified her to think what he might do to try and rescue her.

  Lost in her dark thoughts, she barely noticed the doctor, who was opening a black bag and rummaging through it. In fact, it wasn’t until he reached under the blanket to grab her arm that she abruptly remembered she was in danger.

  Stiffening in outrage, she watched as he turned her arm over and brushed his thumb over her skin.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want to make sure the drug is fully out of your system.”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  He held up a small vial that had a needle on the end. “This won’t hurt.”

  She yanked her hand free. “No.”

  He pressed his lips together in annoyance. “I just need a small sample.”

  Holding up her hand, she released her razor-sharp claws. “Blood for blood.”

  The man was smart enough to jerk back, fear tightening his face. But instead of leaving the cell as she’d hoped, he sent her a warning glance.

  “Please don’t make me call for the guard,” he said. “He enjoys hurting shifters.”

  Typical. Most of the SAU staff took pleasure in their pain. Why else would they lock them up as if they were worthless monsters?

  “Fuck off,” she growled.

  “Have it your way.” Heaving a faint sigh, the man rose to his feet and motioned toward the open door. “Sinclair, will you join us.”

  Instantly, a large man with long brown hair and a lean face that was scruffy with whiskers stepped into the room.

  “Yeah?”

  The doctor nodded toward Cora, who remained huddled on the cot, her claw-tipped hand still lifted.

  “I need you to convince our guest to cooperate.”

  “No problem.” Walking forward, the guard studied her with a pair of ice blue eyes that sent a chill down her spine. She had no difficulty believing Sinclair enjoyed hurting females. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if he ate babies for breakfast. As if sensing her thoughts, he pulled his lips back in a humorless smile. “Hey, pussy, pussy.”

  Even knowing she was too weak to fight, Cora slashed her claws toward the man’s face. He laughed, lunging forward so he could wrap his arms around her.

  She hissed, but he was far too strong. Stronger than most humans. Obviously, he was one of those vain humans who used steroids. Or maybe the SAU was injecting their soldiers with some new drug.

  Maybe they were using shifter power to enhance their employees.

  That would explain the doctor, and why he wanted her blood.

  Effectively trapped, she was helpless as he turned her back to the waiting doctor. Her nose wrinkled. The man smelled…different.

  Not bad. Just different.

  If she survived this ordeal, she needed to warn the Alphas that she suspected there was something weird going on with the guards.

  “Bastard,” she snarled, unable to avoid the doctor as he grabbed her arm to shove the needle into her vein. Swiftly, the vial was filled with her blood. He grabbed another vial, filling it before he removed the needle and tossed it in his bag. Then, pulling out a long swab he pointed it toward her face.

  On cue, the steroid-pumped Sinclair grabbed her jaw and painfully forced her mouth open. The doctor reached between her lips with the swab, swishing it against the inside of her cheek before he was hastily pulling back.

  Smart man. She couldn’t do a complete shift until she’d regained her strength, but she could grow her fangs long enough to bite off his hand.

  Talbot reached back into his stupid bag, no doubt searching for something else to poke or prod her with when the man holding her suddenly glanced toward the doorway.

  “Someone’s coming,” he warned.

  “Damn.�
�� The doctor scowled, snapping shut his bag. “I suppose this will have to do.” Scurrying out of the cell like the cockroach he was, he hastily glanced over his shoulder. “Lock the door and don’t say a damned word about this.”

  Hmm…

  Cora barely noticed when she was tossed back onto the cot as the guard left the cell and closed the door behind him. She was far more interested in why the doctor wanted to keep his visit a secret. And how she could use the information to her advantage.

  Catching a familiar scent, Cora wasn’t surprised when the soldier who’d shot her entered the cell. Slimy bastard.

  Along with him was a large, gray-haired man who had an air of authority. This was a man who was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

  “So…you’re awake,” the older man said, tossing her an orange jumpsuit. “Here.”

  With a grimace, Cora used the blanket as a shield as she pulled on the ugly-ass outfit. Orange really wasn’t the new black, she decided as she tossed aside the blanket to look down at the neon-nectarine jumpsuit.

  Still, it was better than being naked.

  Not that she was about to admit it to her captors. Instead, she sent them a glance of pure disdain.

  “Am I supposed to be grateful?”

  The man studied her without expression. “Your feelings are immaterial to me.”

  Cora shivered. The doctor had been creepy, but this man…he was as cold as ice. And she didn’t need to be warned that he would kill her as easily as he killed a cockroach.

  “Who are you?”

  “Director Markham, head of the SAU.”

  Shit. That would explain his air of authority.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice not entirely steady.

  Reaching into the pocket of his black slacks, he pulled out a small cellphone and tossed it onto the cot next to her.

  “I want you to contact your father and tell him to meet me at the Flatirons at midnight,” he commanded, referring to the line of rock formations in Green Mountain, southwest of Boulder.

  She scowled. “He’s not allowed to leave the compound.”

  “I’ll alert the guards that I’ve given him permission to leave, and text him the exact coordinates once he agrees.”

  Cora’s mouth went dry. The very fact that Markham was suggesting they meet at such an isolated area at midnight meant that this was no government-sanctioned get together. In fact, she would bet her last damned dollar that this was yet another secret SAU mission that was intended to hurt the shifters while giving the humans more power.