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Authors: C.J. Barry

BOOK: Body Thief
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“Charges are set with a one-minute delay,” someone said.
“I got the keys to the front door. Clear out.”
Footsteps came toward them.
Time changed and slowed as she shifted to her Primary form. Everything sharpened; every one of her senses opened up. It was like breathing, like being set free. Powerful and immortal. She eyed the first guy entering her line of sight. She moved, catching him off guard, and backhanded him over a desk.
Then someone gave out a yell and guns fired simultaneously as the other two men dove behind furniture. Cam thinned her structure, ignored the flying bullets, and walked toward the second man. She was a step away when she felt a large projectile rip through and lodge in her belly. Pain radiated deep within as everything around the slug began to harden. She staggered and fought for control of her internal structure, but it wasn’t working right.
She clutched her stomach and concentrated on ejecting the object from her form. It took precious time, and her energy was fading fast.
What was inside her?
She heard Mercer yell as the man in front of her raised his gun to fire again. She couldn’t move out of the way, couldn’t defend herself. Fear gripped her. Each second ticked by like an hour. Her father’s face appeared in her mind.
No. It couldn’t end this way.
A gunshot went off, and the man dropped on top of the desk. She doubled over and focused on saving herself from whatever ammunition he’d used on her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled Ernest saying, “Make sure no one uses it on you.” And she knew. She knew she was dead.
Mercer’s voice was behind her, yelling, but he was lost in the pounding of blood in her ears and the buzz of the battle waging inside her. Then there was a bright light and a terrible concussion that threw her back against something hard. She smelled fire and felt her skin burn for a brief moment, and then everything went black.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 
G
riffin called Lyle as soon as he got her up the stairs and into his bed. His fingers fumbled clumsily with the phone numbers.
“It’s five A.M., Griffin. I just got to sleep,” Lyle complained when he answered.
“Cam’s hurt bad,” he said, his voice sounding far away and hollow. The ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped since the explosion.
“I’ll be right there.” Lyle hung up.
Griffin set down the phone and noticed that his hands were bloody and shaking. His clothes were singed, flying debris had sliced his arms, and his lungs burned from smoke inhalation. But he was still in better shape than Cam.
Lying in his bed in her charcoal Shifter form, she moaned as she twisted and flailed in agony. Two bullet holes oozed a thick liquid that he could only assume was her blood. Her thick skin was peeling and ripped in places where the blast had hit her. The giant solid bulge in her belly was what worried him the most. It was like her whole stomach had been turned to stone.
He ran into the bathroom and soaked a couple of towels with hot water. Cam was gasping for air when he got back to her. The stone in her stomach was affecting all her functions. How bad was she? He had no idea.
“Can you hear me?” he asked her, his words echoing in his ears. “Come on, Cam. You can do this. You can heal yourself.”
He pressed one of the towels to a bullet hole, and she groaned in pain. Then he laid another one on top of her hard stomach, and she let out loud cry. Griffin held it in place. It had to help. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.
“Jesus Christ, what happened?” Lyle was standing at the foot of the bed gaping at them both.
Griffin summarized. “We got blown up.”
Lyle walked to the side of the bed. “
You
look like you got blown up. What about her?”
“She was shot with something, I don’t know. But we need to get it out.”
Lyle stepped back in sudden understanding and put his hands up. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I can put in a few stitches, but there is no way I’m operating on her.”
“It’s killing her,” Griffin said, fighting the helpless feeling he’d had since he saw her lying on the floor in the building. His hands weren’t shaking from the adrenaline; they were shaking from fear. “So get your kit.”
Lyle ran a hand through his hair and swore. Then he turned and ran. He’d be back; at least that’s what Griffin hoped. Lyle wouldn’t leave her like this either.
“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he said. He had no idea why he was telling her that, but it was the truth. “Not for revenge. Not to play games.”
Cam was writhing in pain, and Griffin held her down, feeling a rush of helplessness. What did he have for medical supplies? Maybe Advil and Ace bandages. Nothing to stop her suffering. Then he remembered the tranquilizer in his arsenal. It was a gamble introducing yet something else into her system at this point. On the other hand, he couldn’t bear taking bullets out of her without some kind of painkiller.
He made the decision and ducked into the living room to get the tranquilizer cartridge. It was full, which was good. She’d be out for the next few hours. Lyle met him back in the bedroom with a duffel bag.
Griffin held the tranquilizer over her chest and braced himself. In Shifter form, black skin muted her features. But in his mind, he saw her red hair and ivory skin. Then he jabbed her with the tranquilizer, driving the needle deep into her chest. She wailed as the drug emptied into her. Seconds later, all the tension seeped from her body and she sank into the bed.
He put his ear to her chest. She was still breathing, and even better, she wasn’t suffering anymore. Griffin sat back, rubbed his eyes, and fought the fatigue that swept over him. His night wasn’t over yet.
Lyle set the duffel down and unzipped it. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Griffin stared at Cam, dreading the next step. “No. I’m definitely not.”
“That makes two of us.”
 
“Christ almighty, Braxton!” Harding roared as he flung open the door to his partner’s office. Braxton was sitting behind his desk, a dark figure against white walls. He looked up at Harding with black eyes and a thick beard that covered up tanned skin. He wore military-grade fatigues and hat.
Harding planted his hands on the front of his desk with a loud thump that he hoped would give Braxton a clue to just how pissed off he was. All the frustration and fury he’d kept in check on the way over here spit out. “How did Mercer know about that attack last night?”
Braxton set his pen down and pushed back in his chair. He laced his fingers behind his head and regarded him with a cool disdain that drove Harding to the brink of futility. “And a good morning to you too.”
Harding thrust a finger at him. “Don’t get cocky with me. What happened?”
Braxton maintained his typical poker face. “Whatever it was wasn’t worth you jeopardizing this operation by coming down here. Your temper is going to be the end of us both.”
Harding stood up and clenched his fists to bring himself back under control. Braxton was wrong. A temper got things done, motivated people. Most people. But he’d learned that Braxton would not continue this conversation unless Harding calmed down. He dropped into the chair in front of Braxton’s desk. “Report.
Please
.”
“Obviously, Mercer got a tip that we were targeting that location,” Braxton began. “Both he and his partner proceeded to take out our men. The bombs went off, destroying the place. Mercer carried the woman out immediately afterward. We picked up all our men before the authorities arrived. One was dead, the other two injured.”
Harding gripped the arms of the chair and mentally ran through the ramifications of the night’s disaster. Mercer and Camille knew that the men weren’t Shifters. That would be a problem. “You said he carried her out?”
Braxton laid his elbows on his desk and leaned forward. “My men said they hit her with a Salt Round. She succumbed to it. We may have killed her.”
Good,
Harding thought. That would save him the trouble. “And Mercer?”
“Minor injuries.”
So Mercer would need to be dealt with and soon. Before he could do anything with his newfound information. “Is there any way they can tie the attack back to us?”
“No,” Braxton said and smiled. “We’re solid.”
Harding glared at him. “Really? So you’ve identified whoever leaked this information?”
That got a twitch out of Braxton. “Not yet, but in a few days it won’t matter. The operation is well under way, and nothing can stop us now. We have a few more shipments coming in to complete the large-scale manufacturing line.”
They were so close, Harding could taste it. “Make sure those deliveries arrive on time. I won’t tolerate any more mistakes.”
Braxton’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t threaten me, Harding. I’m the man keeping your shit together.”
It wasn’t a threat. Harding had no intention of letting Braxton screw up his plans. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could find a replacement for Braxton if he had to. He’d just have to pay him very, very well.
“But it’s my neck on the line,” Harding replied. “And I will protect it at all costs.”
The two men stared each other down. Finally, Braxton picked up his pen and bent over his paperwork. “Go write your report, Harding.”
 
Cam felt warm and safe. She couldn’t tell where she was or what day it was, and she didn’t care. The feeling of total love wrapped around her like a soft blanket. There was no pain, no worry, no suffering. She clung to the overwhelming sense of well-being with dogged determination.
I am loved,
she thought.
Then she wrapped her hands around her belly. It was swollen and round. She was pregnant. She didn’t remember getting pregnant, but it didn’t matter. Happiness flooded over her in great waves. She hugged her child with loving arms, promising it unrequited love and protection. Her world was perfect, and she felt like she would burst with the glory of it all.
And then a gunshot shattered her world. She panicked, grasping at the love and the well-being, trying desperately to hold on to them. They were yanked away into darkness through her fingers. She felt her belly; the child was gone. And in her mind, she howled at the loss.
“It’s okay, Cam.”
She cried out as pain radiated through her body. Reality returned.
No. Please don’t leave. Please
.
“I got you.”
Stripped bare, she turned on her side toward the words and the warmth. Strong arms cradled her, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. His scent soothed her grief; his kind caress a balance to the pain.
Griffin
. She relaxed against him, knowing that her reality was safe, if only temporarily. The last remnants of her perfect world faded away. Her belly burned, and she checked it with her hand. That’s when she realized she was in Primary form. The building, humans, gunshots, bomb blast all came back in a heartbeat.
And now she was with Mercer.
In his bed, in his arms. In her Shifter form.
Panic gripped her, tearing across the wound in her belly as she lurched away from him. She heard his protest and yanked the blanket they shared around herself. His heat lingered on the blanket as she rolled to the far edge of the bed.

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