Fox Hunt Read online

  “Have it your way,” he said when the silence had gone on too long. He pulled his phone back, swiping across the screen.

  “I’ll do it!” I blurted out. “I’ll cooperate.”

  He lowered the phone, but his finger stayed poised over the screen.

  “I’ll… I’ll get you the data. Just don’t hurt him.”

  “Okay, then. Glad you saw reason.”

  There was nothing reasonable about this. I’d hoped to buy myself some time, but now I had no idea what to do next. I definitely didn’t have any data, and when this guy and his associate figured that out, Buddy and I would be back to square one. Or we’d be dead.

  “Where is the data?”

  “Ah….” Was he expecting me to pull out a thumb drive or something? His suspicious glare at my hesitation suggested that, yes, he expected me to do something to conjure the data to him.

  “I don’t have it with me.” I held out my hands to illustrate my lack of, well, anything. I literally had gone into my interview with nothing but the clothes on my back.

  “Where’s your computer?”

  At least now I knew where he’d expected to find the data.

  “It’s in my car.” It wasn’t in my car. It was packed with my luggage at some mediocre hotel two miles away, but the car would give me more time to come up with some other kind of plan.

  The intercom on the elevator panel squawked to life. “A technician has been called. Please stay calm. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

  I sighed. Of course they thought the elevator had experienced some kind of technical difficulties. Would it have been too much to hope they had security cameras in the car?

  I must have said the last out loud. Bob, though I highly doubted Bob was actually his name despite the embroidering on his uniform, shot a quick look to the back corner, and I followed his gaze. Two strips of duct tape covered a space approximately four inches by four inches.

  “Camera?” I asked.

  “Camera,” he confirmed. “No need to give the authorities my face.” He flashed his phone to me again, where the video feed of Buddy continued. He’d started pacing the lobby.

  “Now here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to take the elevator to the ground floor. Without causing a scene, you are going to convince your boyfriend to come quietly.”

  “He’s not my—” I snapped my mouth closed. This really wasn’t the right time.

  “Then we’re going to take a trip to your car and retrieve your computer. You’re going to pull up the data, then you’re going to give me your computer.”

  “And then?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Not a comforting answer.

  I nodded.

  He pulled the Emergency Stop button out, and a few seconds later, the car resumed its descent.

  With every floor we passed, my mind whirled with possibilities. I ran through hundreds of possible plans to escape him, to overpower him, to strangle him with my tie. I discarded each and every one of the plans. All of them, up to and including strangling the man with my tie, had too much risk. Risk to Buddy. I had no doubt I could get away from this guy if I put my mind to it. Thanks to my shifter heritage, I was faster and stronger than an average human. But I was not faster or stronger than a bullet. Even if I were able to get away from this guy, his associate still had a gun aimed at Buddy.

  The elevator doors slid open, and a security guard—an older man in the same uniform of the guy who’d greeted Buddy and me at the front desk—stepped forward. He had a Taser at his belt, and I thought briefly about grabbing it and turning it on Bob. But again, that wouldn’t stop the man with the gun from taking his shot at Buddy’s head.

  “Sorry about that!” Bob said to the guard. “My friend here tripped and hit the panel. Not sure what happened. You’ll want to check the Emergency Stop button. I had problems pulling it back out. It might be sticking or something.”

  Wow, he was good, voice all jovial and no-problems-here. The security guard ate it up, assuring us he’d have the maintenance people take a look immediately.

  Buddy stalked through the lobby toward us, and I almost threw myself into his arms. Seeing him there, bigger than life, made me want to weep in relief. I also desperately wanted him to drag me into his arms and haul me out of this place. Sadly, none of that was happening.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  The security guard turned. “Sir, you need to stay on the other side of the corridor. I won’t ask again. I’ll be calling the police instead.”

  “Everything’s fine,” I told him, hoping he could read my eyes, which were screaming that everything was absolutely not fine.

  He caught something—either the unspoken words in my expression or changes panic wrought on my scent. He stilled, watching me carefully.

  “Bob’s going to come with us, Buddy. He’s going to show us the sights before we head to DC for my next interview.”

  His eyes narrowed. Good. He’d caught my little hints. I hadn’t called him Buddy since the day he’d told me he didn’t like the name. I always said Theo. Theo was my friend, Buddy was the bodyguard. And I’d skipped Columbia University. Change of plans.

  He nodded. “Great. Let’s get a move on. Don’t want to hold up these folks any longer.”

  I knew what he meant. Let’s take the fight away from the innocent civilians.

  He reached out to shake the security guard’s hand, and in so doing, managed to get between me and Bob.

  A flash of red. My heart jumped. Was that the laser scope? Brake lights? It could have been anything, but it was enough that when Bob gave me a significant look, I led Buddy toward the door without a fuss.

  Bob urged us forward. “Get into the car. You won’t make it three steps if you try to take off.”

  Buddy shot me a look from the corner of his eye, though his body still angled toward Bob.

  “Gunman,” I said under my breath. “Long distance.”

  His eyes widened.

  “I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice that no one without preternatural hearing could pick up.

  “Explain,” Buddy whispered, voice equally soft.

  “It seems I was a target.”

  “No shit.”

  I begged him with my eyes. “Just play along for now, okay?”

  A silver SUV idled in front the building. As soon as we stepped onto the pavement, I searched the surrounding buildings, looking for any sign of Bob’s accomplice. Was that an open window in the building catty-corner from us? Was that motion curtains wafting in the breeze or a shooter?

  Blood pounded through my veins, a rapid, shallow beat that left me light-headed and giddy. My fingertips tingled. Shit, not again.

  Buddy’s hand landed on my shoulder, his touch grounding me.

  Bob opened the back door of the SUV, gesturing that we should crawl in.

  The driver turned in his seat, pointing a Beretta at us. No, not at us. At Buddy. I recognized him too. This was the guy who’d run into us in Chicago. This asshole dinged my baby! I growled under my breath. If we got out of this, I would make him pay for what he’d done to Andy.

  “In, or he shoots,” Bob said.

  Buddy’s face didn’t betray any fear at someone holding a gun on him. His fingers stiffened on my shoulder, though, so I knew he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed.

  “Fine,” I said quickly. I couldn’t let Buddy get hurt protecting me. Sure, maybe he was hired to do that, but that didn’t mean I could sit back and let him get shot. Not when this was all my fault. I crawled into the back seat, scooting over until Buddy could get next to me.

  “No funny business,” Bob said.

  The driver kept his gun aimed at Buddy. Nope, definitely no funny business.

  Bob jumped into the front seat and pulled a gun from the glove box. As soon as he’d lifted it toward us, the driver shoved his Beretta into a side holster, then merged into traffic.

  “Now, where’s the data?”

  Chapte
r Sixteen

  THE parking garage where we’d stored my Mini Cooper was on the western edges of the city, so I knew we had almost forty-five minutes to come up with some kind of plan. So far, my plans could be filed under “a wing and a prayer” versus something more well thought out. I’d been working with delay tactics, but that would only get me so far. At some point Bob and his friend were going to find out I had no data, and then where would we be?

  At least we were out of range of the shooter who’d been targeting Buddy. Now, if we could escape these guys, maybe we’d be okay. But I needed more information. There was nothing that couldn’t be figured out if enough information was gathered. The five Ws and an H to the rescue.

  “How did you find us?” I asked.

  Bob grunted. Not very helpful.

  “Why do you want the data?”

  Silence.

  Damn it, questions were only as good as the answers they elicited.

  “Don’t waste your breath,” Buddy said, voice loud enough I knew he meant for these goons to hear him. “They’re hired guns. Brainless muscle. They’re just doing what they were hired to do, no more.”

  I gaped at him.

  “You shut your mouth,” Bob said. “I’m sick and tired of being treated like a piece of meat. I’m as much brains as I am brawn.”

  The light dawned. Buddy was a freaking genius.

  “Yeah, right. You were hired to kill David, right? You couldn’t even get that right.”

  Bob’s growl was as fierce as any shifter when he said, “I could have killed him more than once since I started tracking him. I decided he was worth more to me alive than dead.”

  “You were supposed to kill me?” I asked, horrified.

  “Yeah, well, the guy who hired me, he’s the dumb one. He was so sure you’d found out his secret and you were going to blab.”

  “Secret? You mean the data I have?”

  Bob nodded. “Yeah. Whatever you found on him would put him in deep shit with his bosses. He figured, eliminate you, eliminate the threat.”

  “Fascinating,” Buddy said in a bored tone. “That doesn’t explain how you geniuses went from assassination to kidnapping.”

  “Hey, I’m smarter than I look,” Bob said. “But I’m getting old for this life. I want to retire. My uncle’s got a place in Boca. Sounds like a good life.”

  I blinked at him. “You kidnapped me so you could retire to Boca Raton with your uncle?”

  “Not immediately, obviously. But it’s expensive, and I’m not getting any younger. I figured a couple more jobs, plus this big payout, and I’d be set.”

  “So how’re you getting the big payout if it’s not by killing David?” Derision dripped from Buddy’s words, not a common tone for him. He was egging these guys on, and I totally approved.

  “That’s what’s so smart. I figured if this guy is willing to pay half a million to off the guy—”

  The blood drained from my head, pooling nauseatingly in my gut. Half a million? Dollars? What the hell did they think I’d found?

  “—then his bosses would pay double that for the information.”

  “Your genius plan is to blackmail someone who is known to hire hitmen? What’s to stop him from putting a hit on you? No offense, but I doubt you’re the top of the barrel when it comes to killers for hire.”

  My stomach twisted. I really wanted Buddy to stop talking about killers.

  Bob’s smile edged on evil. “Because his bosses are the scariest bunch of scientists you’d ever want to come across. One word to them, and he’d be toast.”

  Scientists. I’d assumed these guys were connected to the Moreau Initiative, but I thought they were actually part of the group, not hired guns, hired by an underling.

  “So the guy who hired you, he’s not one of the scary scientists?” I asked.

  “Nah. He’s some kind of mole. Undercover, you know, like to get insider information. He’s got some kind of bigwig position with the competitor.”

  “Competitor?”

  “It’s got to be some kind of corporate espionage deal, right? I mean, these scientists are on the brink of some big discovery. Why else would they want someone on the inside?” Bob gestured broadly in his enthusiasm, waving the gun wildly.

  I grabbed Buddy’s knee, fingers digging in. Insider. The Moreau Initiative has someone on the inside? Inside where? Shifters? Or somewhere sort of adjacent to shifters?

  “Right. Why else? That makes the data on this mole really important to them,” Buddy said.

  “No kidding. I’ve never heard of the Monroe Institute, but given how much they freaked my contact out, they are something to avoid. And since you have the proof of his double cross, he’s got a real hard-on for you.” Bob waved his gun in my direction.

  “Of course,” I said weakly. If I’d had any doubt that the Moreau Initiative was involved, it was gone. I didn’t know if Bob got the name wrong, or if it the Monroe Institute was their public name, but it didn’t much matter.

  “Your plan is to take the information David has gathered to blackmail your contact.” Buddy shook his head like this was the stupidest idea he’d ever heard.

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Sure. If these Monroe Institute guys have a traitor in their midst, I bet they’d pay big-time to find out. Of course, you’d have to find them first.”

  “Might be worth it,” the driver said, joining the conversation for the first time. “I’d rather not go back to Wyoming anytime soon. Place freaks me out. Where are all the people?”

  Another piece of the puzzle fell. Whoever the traitor was, he was in Wyoming. Things were hitting a little too close to home.

  “You’re not lying,” Bob said to his friend.

  “And if we didn’t have to deal with the man again, that would be nice too. Guy kind of creeped me out. I swear, his eyes glowed when we told him we’d missed the kid that first day. Probably a glitch in the video call, but still.”

  My vision dimmed, and I clawed into Buddy’s knee hard enough my nails broke the skin. The tang of blood in the air pulled me out of my near miss. A shifter. A fucking shifter was working with the Moreau Initiative. I loosened my grip, sending Buddy an apologetic glance. He covered my hand and squeezed.

  The same fury I felt blazed in his eyes. Oh yeah, someone was going to pay. “Sounds like a winner.” Buddy ground out. “You should definitely avoid him.”

  “Might just be easier to do the blackmail thing,” Bob said, looking at his friend, gun held limply in his hand. Had he forgotten he had it? “I wouldn’t even know who to go to at this Monroe Institute. I doubt their website would have anything about insider information.”

  “I can help,” I said quickly.

  “How?” Bob asked, narrowing his eyes.

  Buddy’s lips quirked. I loved that he understood me.

  “I’m a hacker. It wouldn’t take me any time at all to dig into the Moreau—” I caught myself and cleared my throat. “—the, ah, Monroe Institute. I could have you in contact with their head honcho in a matter of hours. Maybe less.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “As long as there’s someone out there willing to hire people like you to kill me, I’m in danger. I’d rather make sure the information gets to the right people and mitigate the risk to myself.” I was rather proud of that last line. I sounded like my mother.

  “What would you need?”

  “My laptop and uninterrupted internet access.”

  An unspoken conversation went on between Bob and the driver. The driver met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You really that good?”

  I shrugged, trying for a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “I found the data linking your contact to his traitorous actions.” Data I don’t really have, but still….

  “We’d have to check in with Chuck.”

  “Chuck?” I asked.

  “Our other partner.”

  “Oh, the one with the gun?”

  Bob nodded, oblivious to the flare o
f anger in my voice. “I’ll text him.”

  I leaned into Buddy’s comforting warmth, trying to draw strength from it. Something hard pressed into my thigh. I glanced down at one of the big cargo pockets on his shorts, which was filled with something large and roughly phallic in shape. Since I knew Buddy wasn’t happy to see me in this particular moment, I met his eyes in question.

  “Something to help,” he murmured.

  He nudged me closer to the door until there were several inches separating us. Enough space, I realized, that he’d be able to access his pocket if he needed to.

  Several minutes later Bob said, “Chuck agrees.”

  “I’m going to need everything you have on your contact and on the Moreau, ahem, Monroe people. The more specific search terms I use, the faster I’ll have the information you need. We should start a list. Do you have any paper?”

  Both Bob and Buddy looked at me like I was a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

  “Nope, no paper.”

  “You have a notes function on your phone, right?”

  He nodded, brow furrowed.

  “Can you take notes?”

  He still looked skeptical. “What are you playing at?”

  I rounded my shoulders, hoping it looked like I was strengthening my resolve or trying to put on a brave front. “Look, the more info we have ready to go, the sooner we’ll have this done, and the sooner I can go home without having to keep an eye out over my shoulder.” When that didn’t sway him, I added, “And the sooner you’ll have your money and be on your way to Boca Raton.”

  “Kid’s got a point,” the driver said. “Might as well get started. This traffic isn’t going anywhere fast.”

  “Fine.” Bob shoved the gun somewhere—I couldn’t see where exactly, from my spot in the back seat. He grabbed his phone and started stabbing at the display. “What kind of info do you need?”

  “Did your contact ever call anyone at the Monroe Institute by name or title?”