Deadly Protector: Federal Paranormal Unit Page 2

  Getting to the large conference room less than a minute behind Mejia, he stalked to the back of the room. Waiting for the boss to arrive, his eyes stayed glued to the woman who would quite literally make him immortal, then scoffed, “Only the good die young. So, I’m bound to live forever anyway.”

  Ignoring the feel of Ramirez’s eyes on him, it was a relief when Brock walked in with Donovan hot on his heels. Taking the lead, the spunky redhead handed a stack of folders to Mejia and asked that she pass them around.

  Pissed that he was holding his breath, but knowing if he inhaled Kat’s scent one more time, he would do something drastic, Cross held out his hand. “Thank you.” Lower than usual and more of a growl than he liked, he hoped she hadn’t noticed but was sure by the barely perceptible shiver that gave her hips a little extra shake, that she had.

  “As you can see,” Donovan started, “Mejia was absolutely right. Every single one of these girls was on the Two Becomes One dating app.”

  “Two Becomes One? Are you fucking kidding me? What a stupid name,” Buchanan, a smartass at the best of times and worse now that he’d found his mate, scoffed.

  “Shut up and listen or I’ll send you to Asia with Villa,” Brock ordered.

  “Stupid or not, all eleven of our girls were on there.” Donovan picked right up where the boss left off, not even looking up from her notes. “Now, they were all talking to different profile names from different IP addresses…”

  “Then how is this a lead?” A tall, blond, pretty boy Agent Cross had never met, and didn’t plan on talking to, asked.

  “Let her talk, Sway,” Ramirez growled, giving the new guy a glare before smiling at Jane and giving her a nod.

  “Like I was about to say,” Jane gave the blond a glare of her own, “they all had dates set up for the nights they disappeared and…hold onto your hats, people, every single one was meeting Prince Charming at the same bar.” Stopping and looking around the room, she added, “And the computer picked up too many similarities in syntax, sentence structure, and word usage for it to not be the same guy.”

  Thumbing through the papers as the others talked amongst themselves, Cross damned near choked on his own tongue when his eyes landed on the name of the bar. “Beastly” was the hottest new bar in the area where humans could rub elbows with vamps, shifters, witches, warlocks, voodoo priests, and any other paranormal creature who wanted to play nice with the “regular folk.” It was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of and was just about to say so when a horrified gasp sounded from the front of the room.

  Swamped in unbelievable sadness, wretched sorrow, and the feeling of loss that gripped his heart like a vice, Hunter’s eyes shot to Mejia. In the span of a single heartbeat, she wheezed, “Angela’s dead.” Before her head fell to the side.

  “What the…” Halfway across the room before he realized he’d moved, the dragon stopped dead when Brock bellowed, “Everybody out. Now!”

  3

  Opening her eyes and finding Brock and Vega staring at her like she was the opening act in the FPU’s first freak show was bad. Then she could feel the creep in the mirrored glasses trying to burn yet another hole in her head and Kat thought about crawling under the table.

  “Are you all right?” Vega’s concern filled the room as the woman’s mate, aka big, scary boss man, said at exactly the same time, “How long has this been happening?”

  “Yep, I’m fine.” Kat sighed, meeting Cynthia’s eyes, not wanting to disappoint her mentor in any way. Then to Brock. She pushed herself up tall in the chair and nodded with a command she didn’t feel. “Since I was little. Just wasn’t ready for it this time. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  Hand stretched across his forehead, the boss’s tone softened as he rubbed his temples. “Nothing to be sorry about. I just have to know that you can handle the field assignments. I can’t have you fainting in the middle of an op.”

  “No, sir. It won’t happen again. I’ll be prepared at all times.”

  As his hand fell away, Brock gave her a hard look, one she could feel all the way to the back of her skull, before slowly nodding. “Good. All you have to do is speak up, Mejia. Tell me or the Team Leader that you need a break. In the end, we’re all in this together. Now, explain what happened and what you know.”

  Happy to put the focus back on the case and off her, Kat picked up her blue folder from where it had slid to the floor, laid it on her lap, and carefully removed the picture of the first girl reported missing. Laying it on the table, she took a deep breath, slowly let it out while counting to three then explained as her fingertips outlined the young woman’s long blond curls.

  “From the time I last looked at this photograph until when Donovan put her picture on the screen. So, about an hour and a half ago, Angela Thomas passed away.”

  “Just like that?” Brock stood and rolled his shoulders. “You get a feeling? A flash? A picture? How do you know?”

  It was always the same question. She’d gotten really good at the answer.

  “When I meet someone, touch something of theirs, or even see a picture of them, something in the depths of my brain attaches to the essence of that person. My abuela called it clarividente or clairvoyance. The priests said it was something more special than just a sixth sense. It was their belief that I have a sensitivity to the moment in time when a soul leaves its earthly body. In a nutshell, I’ve now met you. Let’s say I never see you again, but fifty years from now, I pick up a newspaper and there’s your picture.”

  “Okay, I’m with you.”

  “Just seeing your face would trigger my ability and I would know that you had passed.”

  “But if you never saw me again, you wouldn’t know?” Brock sounded slightly intrigued but the look on his face said he’d heard way weirder.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Vega jumped in. “A hundred years from now, you pick up a box of pictures and just like that, you’ll know who’s dead and who’s alive?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she nodded. “That sums it up.” Then needing to clarify, she added, “In most cases, I don’t know right away. It just so happened that I was going through the file at home this morning and had looked at Miss Thomas’s picture.”

  Pointing at the photo, he asked, “Any other info? Where is she? Was it a grisly death? Anything we can work with?”

  Staring at Angela’s smiling face, Kat looked into her light blues eyes and a feeling of peace flowed over her. No stress, just calm, serene peace. Angela had been happy, almost euphoric. It wasn’t natural, but it didn’t feel like drugs either. It seemed to come from somewhere in the young woman’s brilliant mind. A suggestion…a command that someone had purposely placed there to keep her compliant and docile.

  Relaying the information as quickly as her lips would move, Kat knew her words were running together but she needed to be sure they understood what she was picking up from the deceased. Never in her almost thirty years had she connected so closely with someone she’d never met.

  “There’s a fogginess to her thoughts. She’s never had to second guess or fight to get a thought to surface, but she was most definitely doing that towards the end.”

  “Would you be able to get better information if you touched something that was hers? If you visited her apartment?” Vega was spitting out questions like bullets from a gun. “What if you talked to people she knew? Would her clothes give you a better connection? Any ideas?”

  Jumping in when the director took a breath, Kat nodded, “Yes, most times any or all of those things can help but my perceptions will not be as clear as Agent Villa’s. I won’t experience what Angela did. I’m a spectator in their memories, and usually, one way up in the cheap seats. My ability is to feel if their soul still resides in the mortal coil. Make sense?”

  “Absolutely,” Brock barked as he marched across the room and opened the door. “Sway.”

  No sooner had the boss bellowed than the tall, blond, very easy on the eyes agent appeared in the doorway. “Y
ou called, sir?”

  “I did. Get in here and shut the door.”

  Doing as he was told, Sway smiled in her direction as he crossed the room, stopping to the right and leaned against the wall as Brock stated, “I need you to go with Mejia to Nokesville.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  “Get your go-bag then checkout an SUV. You may need to stay the night.”

  “I’m on it.” Moving with a grace that contradicted his six-foot-four-inch muscled frame, Sway looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll be out front in thirty minutes. That good for you, Mejia?”

  “Sure is. Thank you.”

  Waiting until he was gone, and the door was once again closed, Kat looked back at Brock as he began again, “I’ll call ahead. You’ll meet with their detective in charge. You should have his name in your file.” Once again up on his feet and heading toward the door, he continued, “Play nice with the local LEOs, but make sure they know it’s your show.”

  Grabbing the handles of her bag and springing out of her chair, Kat was halfway across the room by the time Brock had the door opened. Stopping in front of her boss, she nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good luck, Mejia,” Vega appeared beside her. “Remember your training and trust your instinct. You’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Looking straight ahead, making a list of everything she needed to do and ignoring the fiery gaze of tall, dark, and silent, Kat made it to the elevator that was thankfully waiting and stepped inside. As soon as the doors closed, she slumped against the back wall, letting her head fall forward, and sighed. “Time to buckle up, Muñeca. This is the big leagues and you’re up to bat.”

  4

  “What the fuck was I thinkin’?” Oz grumbled as they walked toward the horde of drunk and giggling women rubbing up on a couple of wolves, a panther, and a really young vamp on the patio of Beastly. “If I didn’t owe you my life, I’d… ”

  “You would’ve still come.” Hunter chuckled. “I heard your ears perk up the second I mentioned bar, free drinks, and drunk women with a thing for supes.”

  Barking out a laugh when his friend snickered, “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Cross couldn’t help but think of all the dives from one end of the world to the other that he and Oz had raised their share of hell in and subsequently been kicked out of.

  Army rangers for nearly ten years before leaving the service and going their separate ways, Hunter had been sure to keep in touch with the explosives expert extraordinaire. Oscar Tomas Venegas ~ Oz to anyone who wanted to have their head remain on their shoulders ~ was crazy as a bedbug, could create a bomb out of anything from a piece of gum with a shoestring tied around it to a paper bag full of dog shit, and he was loyal to the very marrow of his bones.

  Against all odds, because dragons from unaligned clans or different parts of the world almost always stayed clear of one another, Hunter and Oz had become brothers at first sight. No matter the situation, they had each other’s back, even when one of them had been ordered to “play nice with the human groupies.”

  “I still can’t believe they put a place like this out here in the middle of Nowheresville.”

  “Nokesville,” Cross corrected just to irritate Oz. Who, as usual, ignored him and kept right on going.

  “Cows on one side, pigs on the other, and plowed fields. The scent of fertilizer in the air. Were they playin’ it safe? Thought one or all of us would flip out? Or were they tryin’ to be different?” Chewing on his ever-present toothpick, Oz scoffed, “One thing’s for sure, they didn’t give a good gosh damn about security.”

  “It’s all about the money. Out here is cheaper than in the city,” Cross grumbled.

  “So, what’s her name?”

  “What?” Hunter tried to act shocked.

  “Don’t try to play a playa, asshole. I know when a woman’s gotten the best of your scaly hide. So, spill. Ya know I’ll find out sooner or later.”

  “No woman. Scout’s honor.” Hunter raised his hand and did the Boy Scout salute. “Hell, I haven’t been laid in so long, I’m not sure I’d know which end to kiss and which to screw.”

  Shaking his head, Oz laughed out loud, “Yeah, right, and I’ve got some swamp land I’ll sell ya real cheap.” Keeping in step, the Latin Lover, as their squad had nicknamed him because he could talk a woman out of her pants before she knew what had happened, tapped the side of his nose. “The scent doesn’t lie. You’ve at least brushed up against your lady love. That mating scent is riding you hard, brutha.” Making a show out of pulling the toothpick from his lips and dipping his chin, he added, “Even the Lone Dragon can’t escape destiny.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Oz,” Cross grumbled. “Keep your eyes open and show off some scale. We need these ladies to fall all over us. It should draw our perp out if he’s here. Profiler says he’s a narcissist with a need to be the center of attention.”

  “Fancy words that all mean arrogant asshole who kidnaps and kills women to me,” Venegas snickered. “But ya know how much I like showing off. So, off I go.” Letting the midnight blue scales of his dragon flow down his arms and the pupils of his eyes elongate, he added with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Ladies love the Oz man.”

  Walking onto the patio as if he owned the place, the ladies’ oohed and aahed, chittered and tittered, and basically made Hunter want to throw up on his own boots as they quite literally fell at Oz’s feet. Following suit, the multi-colors of the paper lanterns haphazardly hanging around the tiki-esque perimeter reflected in the slick silver scales running down Cross’s arms and covering the backs of his hands.

  Immediately showered with attention, cold beers shoved at him from every direction immediately followed by shots of tequila and whiskey, it was the first time in his very long life Cross wished he could get drunk. At the very least, it would dull the high-pitched squeals and the feel of unfamiliar hands all over his body.

  Pulled onto the dance floor and passed around for hours, he saw absolutely nothing and no one who piqued his senses. It was a total bust, just like he’d told Brock it would be. There wasn’t enough time between kidnappings. The guy they were looking for was nothing if not meticulous.

  From all the reports, the perp waited eight to ten days in every case. It had only been four since Leslie Walton was last seen. The sick bastard was still playing with his new toy.

  “Last call. Last call for alcohol.” The DJ’s announcement sounded between one gyrating tune and the next.

  “Thank God,” he mouthed to Oz, who nodded, looking like he too was over all the attention. Waiting until his friend made his way to the bar, Cross asked, “You see anything?”

  “Nah. You?”

  “Nothing in…” The words froze on his tongue. She was there. No doubt about it. Both he and his dragon knew Mejia had just walked into the building.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Oz joked.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Hunter growled, turning toward the door and zeroing in on the Ken doll who looked way too comfortable for the dragon’s liking. “We’ve got company.”

  “Good company?”

  “Don’t know.” Finding all five-foot-five of Kat making her way through the crowd of dancing women, Hunter paused. For the first time in his life, he had no clue what to do.

  If he went to her, one of two things would happen. He would snarl and growl and they’d both be pissed. Or, well, the other possibility just couldn’t happen so there was no reason thinking about it.

  Deciding to cut and run, he gave a sharp nod to Oz and together they went out the way they came in. Walking in silence, Cross was sure he’d gotten away clean. Then Oz snorted. “Never thought I’d see the day when the fearless Hunter Cross tucked his tail and ran from a girl.”

  5

  “I still don’t understand why we bothered driving all the way out here,” Sway once again griped. “I told you they closed at midnight.”

  Looking out the passenger’s side window as
she tapped the nail of her index finger against her thigh, Kat muttered, “I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening out here.”

  “But you didn’t see anything at Angela’s, right?”

  “No, I told you that.” Turning, she glared at the side of his handsome face, too handsome if you asked her, and scolded, “How many times are you going to ask me the same questions?”

  “Sorry.” Sway glanced in her direction before looking back out the windshield. “This whole profiling thing is new to me.” Letting out a nervous chuckle, he went on, “Where I come from, we pretty much rely on the five basic senses with a little magic thrown in for good measure.”

  Wondering if she should tell him that she’d gotten a glimpse of his dragon scales on the back of his hands and the black fur of a panther on the nape of his neck while the ladies at the club were attacking, Kat decided to let him keep his mystique. Although, there would come a day when she would have to satisfy her curiosity and ask how exactly his parents met.

  Moving on to the important part of what Sway had said, she nodded. “I hear ya. Profiling isn’t what I thought I’d be doing when I joined the FBI, but I have to admit, I feel like it’s the right place for me. Especially with this case.”

  When his only response was silence, Kat slid her eyes to the side and snuck a peek. Shocked to find him scowling and biting his lips, she blurted out, “What’s wrong? What’s got your tail in a tangle?”

  “Ha! Good one,” Sway laughed. “I like that. I may just have to steal it.”

  “It’s what my abuela used to say when she’d find me thinkin’ too hard.” Tilting her head to the side and giving him her don’t bullshit a bullshiter look, she added, “Like you were just then.”

  “Busted,” Sway snickered. “Yeah, all right, I was just thinking, do you really think we’ll be able to pick this guy out of a crowd? Isn’t one of the reasons these disappearances went unnoticed for so long the fact that he doesn’t stand out? He’s just a regular Joe, or he makes himself appear like a regular guy?”