Savage Hunger(34)

Don’t trust anybody.

Her resolve hardening, she went to retrieve the jump drive from the bathroom, her heels clicking on the wood floor. The sweatpants and sweatshirt would work, but unfortunately she had no idea where she’d left the flip-flops Warrick had given her yesterday to wear. Which meant she’d have to put on the heels again.

She shook her head and after retrieving the jump drive, headed toward the door. Her next task, and hopefully not an impossible one, was to find the keys to one of the vans.

As she’d hoped, the house was empty and she quickly started scavenging for the keys. But after the minutes ticked by and she couldn’t find them, frustration gnawed at her gut.

She bit her lip and glanced around, listening for the sound of the men returning. Nothing. Her gaze fell on the fridge and she frowned.

Hmm. It was a long shot, but worth a try. She hurried to the fridge, and stepped on her tiptoes, running her fingers over the top of the fridge. Her pulse quickened when the brush of metal against her skin coincided with the familiar jangle.

Holy shit. She’d done it.

She curled her fingers around the keys, jerked them down, then turned and sprinted toward the door.



The shaking and noise coming from the barn had Warrick’s gut-clenching guilt over Sienna fading some. Instead it was replaced with unease for the current situation. It was a good thing the safe house was miles from another building or someone would be calling the local authorities by now. And that was a situation they never enjoyed.

His outlook turned grim as he entered the building. Shit. The full moon had fucked them up, and good.

The shifters strained against the chains that held them, their howls of rage and pain filled the wood building. Claws swiped at the wood stalls, sending wood shavings flying into the air.

Right away he spotted Hilliard struggling to control the rabid wolf that had attacked Sienna earlier. The shifter’s face contorted between animal and human, but both sides showed the blatant agony the man experienced.

“Donovan,” Hilliard yelled, having spotted him. “Get your ass over here and help me tranquilize this one.”

Warrick sprang forward and into the stall, managing to push the shifter back before it could maul the other agent’s face off. Hilliard stumbled back, wiping the sweat off his forehead before grabbing the tranquilizer gun. A soft hiss rang out as the half-shifted wolf roared with anger, swiping at Warrick one last time, before he stumbled back and fell to the ground.

“Shit.” Warrick shook his head. “We’ve got to find a way to communicate with them somehow. Before we drug them up.”

Rafferty walked out of a nearby stall and gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, when you figure that out let me know, buddy. Because I’m not about to risk my life trying to have a nice little chat with a shifter doped up on some crazy shit.”

Warrick touched his fingertips to his temples and shook his head. No. They’d just risk the lives of the suffering shifters. “Where’s Larson?”

The bitterness slid from Rafferty’s expression, leaving a quiet somberness in its place as he jerked his head to the right. “Back-corner stall. It’s not looking good for the female.”

Warrick’s gut tightened and he bit back a sigh. He strode silently down the pathway of the barn, his footsteps crunching the straw on the ground, as he glanced in the stalls at the now-unconscious shifters.

The screams were once again silenced, but soft whimpers lifted from the end stall that he approached.

When he arrived, Larson lifted his head from where he sat on the floor. Grace, their fellow agent, lay in human form next to him, curled in fetal position and sweat glistening on her trembling body. Her eyes were glazed and it was clear she was completely out of it and unaware of either of the men in the stall with her.

“How bad is it?” Warrick asked quietly as he knelt beside her.

Larson gave a small shake of his head. “It’s bad. She’s got a fever that I’m not sure meds or even her were side can fight. What kind of drug is doing this to them?”

Warrick shook his head and pressed the back of his hand to the woman’s forehead, wincing at the heat he found there.

“Sienna knows something. And she’ll talk,” he spoke roughly. “I’ll personally see to it if I have to damn well string her up by her toes.”

A roar ripped through the air, followed by Rafferty’s cry of pain.

Warrick jumped to his feet, running toward the front of the barn. “Goddammit, I thought you just tranquilized him!”

Rafferty clutched a bloody shoulder as he stumbled out of a stall near the front of the barn. “Fuck, man, we did. The doses don’t seem to be enough tonight. He ran outside.”