Chapter Thirteen
Hamel lay in his jaguar form in the woods behind Melinda’s home. The events of the day really wore on him. Normally, he didn’t worry about things he couldn’t control, but with his mate so close to the action, he couldn’t help but stress over “what if.”
He’d spent the day scouring the facility for smells, clues, and any information that would shed light on their culprit. Early on he’d figured out the trespasser used hunter’s block to keep his personal smell and identity hidden. Which could mean a couple things: Hamel knew this person, thus the need to block the scent, or Hamel would come across this person during the day.
Perhaps he should dig deeper into the background of the guards at the facility. The captain of security he spoke with on the phone in Kintu’s office was a very capable ex-military Ugandan. Nice guy at face value. He held his men in tight formation and ran a clean ship. This made it hard to believe that someone outside the compound could get in and out without detection. Never overlook the possibility of an inside job.
But the big question for Hamel was why. Why did this person want a virus no one knew anything about? He wondered how long ago Melinda discovered the additional brain connections in the monkeys. The intel about someone taking the virus to “end the world” that his office received on the emerging threat was a week ago.
Did that mean someone understood the full implications of the added brain mass? That they already knew the virus would create the ability the mouse showed?
After the results come back from the forensics team, they would hopefully have more answers. The crew should’ve been in and out already. Even though the Ugandan virus lab could process the evidence, he’d ordered lab results from another location just to keep everything clean and at arm’s length. He didn’t want any cross-contamination affecting anything.
His tail flipped up, swatting at the flies buzzing around his fur-covered head. He’d decided to come in his animal so he wouldn’t be caught with his pants down, or needing to be down, like last night. That could’ve been bad for this operation. He’d never blown an assignment, and didn’t plan to start now.
His lovely mate had been home for about an hour. She’d opened her balcony doors, which seemed to be the norm for her, but had yet to sit in her hammock chair. Last night she was safe since the bad guy had been busy raiding her lab. Tonight, he wasn’t sure if she would be safe since they had all her research, or if there was more they wanted. Either way, he would watch her until it was time to go back to the hotel.
Since he started working with the American government according to their “agreement,” he and his cat had become a tightly knit team. At first, he had wanted no part in the contract between shifters and humans. But in the fifty years since his species was discovered, they’d had no choice but to go along with what the government cooked up. In exchange for volunteered assistance from alpha-level shifters, the U.S. military and president would do everything in their power to keep the shifter community unknown to humans.
In reality, the powers that be didn’t want the shifters to be exposed because of the potential chaos and violence that could erupt. Humans weren’t known for sharing or tolerance, even though they liked to pretend they were.
His grandfather had been one of the original members of the Alpha League Federal Agency. Their mission statement said they would uphold the laws of the United States of America and protect her people no matter where in the world they may be. That was still the case today, but the ALFAs were usually called upon when a job required agility and resilience humans didn’t possess.
Melinda’s back door opened, catching him by surprise. He didn’t see anything fly over the rail, like another bottle of wine, so he wasn’t sure what she had in mind. He moved into a low crouch and slinked behind a tree to watch her.
She slowly came down each step, staring into the woods intently. What was she looking for? After passing the first few trees, Melinda stopped and looked around. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
She couldn’t be serious. Kitty, kitty? He could take her down in a single leap and eat her whole. His tongue licked his feline lips. Eating her little kitty would be divine. Oh, fuck.
When his back foot came down, it slid on leaves, making enough noise to grab her attention. So much for stealth, cat. Good thing we’re not prey. His animal growled at him.
Melinda moved directly toward him. Shit. He should stay away from her. But how could he watch over her then? Why did women always make things more difficult than they had to be? He headed for the concrete wall. It worked for a good escape route the first time.
His mate must’ve had the same idea. She stopped coming toward him and hurried through the trees parallel to him. Dammit, woman.
He really should be happy with his mate for wanting to see him. Ultimately, that’s what he desired, for her to want to be with him. But not like this. Not in his other form. He put on a burst of speed to get to and over the wall before she could get too much of a glimpse of him.
Behind him in the woods came a short cry, as if Mel had fallen and skinned her knee. Then her scream filled with terror froze him in his tracks. He smelled a touch of her blood and a flood of adrenaline in her system. He turned and sprinted along his path. Then the seriousness of her plight hit him.
Snakes. He smelled a momma cobra, pissed off because her nest was invaded by a human. Fuck. Hamel had seconds to reach Melinda before the cobra attacked. Dodging tree after tree, he was finally close enough to see the cobra floating side to side with the sides of its head flared. And Melinda, not seeing in the dark or knowing where she was crawling, headed straight for the nest. Not on momma’s watch.
The cobra reared back to strike. He would be too late. She’d die before he could get her to the hospital. He let out a sharp hiss, hoping to distract the agitated mother. Didn’t work. His legs pushed him from the ground, through the air between the snake and his mate.
Melinda screamed as a sharp sting bit into his shoulder. His forward momentum dragged the attached snake with him, tearing the skin, letting more venom pump into his veins. He’d never been bitten by a cobra, or any snake, for that matter.
Far enough from his mate, his cat rolled, smashing the serpent’s head, but forcing its fangs into the bone. He swatted the putrid thing off and headed back to his mate to make sure she was okay.
How strange. She had doubled; two of her sat where one had a minute ago. Then the earth tilted up. Or was it him falling to the ground. The ache that punched his nose suggested he just did a face-plant. In front of his mate. Shit. But seeing that he couldn’t move any of his body, he’d worry about his pride later.
First, he needed—