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Authors: C.J. Barry

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“What? Where did that come from?” he sputtered. “You can’t fire me.”

“Don’t call me again. Don’t do any more digging. You’re done.”

“Griffin, what the hell, man? I want to see this through.”

“Trust me when I tell you that you don’t,” Griffin said. “And I won’t answer this phone again.” He disconnected, feeling like total shit. But all the signs were pointing to major trouble, and he wouldn’t take Ernest down with him. Now he had to tell Cam. That wasn’t going to be pleasant either, especially with her father locked away in the detention center.

But sometime during the night Griffin had decided what he wanted.
The truth
.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C
am surveyed the carnage on a bright sunny afternoon. Flashing emergency vehicle lights twinkled red, white, and blue. Beams and walls smoldered from the blast and fire that ravaged the interior and roof of the two-story building. Yellow tape and onlookers lined the perimeter. TV station trucks with satellite dishes mounted on top were lined up like vultures.

Three people died here, it was big news.

It would be bigger news when they blamed it on Shifters.

Except that this wasn’t Shifters.

Griffin talked to the law enforcement uniforms protecting the site and then led her through the wreckage. She smelled only human scents and death. Lies and deceit.

“What
was
this?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t you ask Ernest?”

He turned to her. Their eyes met, and last night sparked between them. “I fired him.”

Cam blinked. “Why?”

He took her hand and led her back outside. “What do you think is happening here, Cam?”

“Well, I can tell you that it’s not Shifters,” she said. But he already knew that, and they both knew what it meant.

He waved to the officers as they left and headed back to his car. “Did you find any other recognizable scents?”

“No,” she said. “Sorry.”

Griffin slowed as they walked, focused on something down the block. Cam followed his gaze to two men in blue suits. One seemed particularly familiar. Roberts, the agent who had been shadowing Ernest. He watched them as they got into Griffin’s car and then used his cell phone.

“Why is he here?” she asked.

Griffin turned on the ignition. “He’s following us.”

The free-floating anxiety that had started after he told her about the deaths rolled over her in a sickening rush. “Because Harding ordered him to.”

He clenched the steering wheel. “Now you know why I fired Ernest.”

She waited for his reply in silence, even though she already knew what he was going to say.

“Harding, XCEL, whoever is going to use us and the information we’ve already reported to pin everything on the Shifters.”

Cam closed her eyes, accepting the conclusion she desperately wanted to pretend wasn’t possible.

“But until then,” Griffin added, “more people are going to die.”

“What makes you think that?”

He put on his signal light to pull out. “Because they can’t raise the fear and the hatred of Shifters unless they do.”

She gaped at him. “They’ll kill innocent people to damn Shifters? That doesn’t make any sense.”

His expression was disgusted but sure. “They’ve done worse. The question is: What do we do about it?”

“We need to stop them,” she said.

He cast her a serious look. “We’ll be on Harding’s hit list, if we aren’t already. And he won’t just slap us on the wrists.”

Then she realized what he was telling her. She’d have to choose between her father, and human lives and Shifters. There would be no turning back. Once she blew the mission, her father’s life would be in jeopardy.

“I can’t ask you to work with me on this,” he said.

“Are you going to fire me too?” she asked.

A corner of his mouth curled. “If that’s what it takes.”

To keep her safe. To keep her father safe. She knew he’d made up his mind. She thought it was about the sex. Instead, he’d decided what he wanted. She’d poked and prodded him to do just that. Now it was her turn.

Cam watched the streets passing them by. People milling about, living their lives not knowing the turmoil that was about to be unleashed upon them. A shapeshifter in human form stood on the corner with a grocery bag of food, waiting to cross the street. As they passed by, he smiled at her.

She closed her eyes as anguish radiated through her. Her father would tell her to do what was right, to forsake him. But he was family. He was all she had left in her world that had been pulled out from under her. He and memories were the only things that survived.

Then she remembered their last conversation. He’d known then, and he’d let her go. He’d called it his legacy. Well, he could call it whatever he wanted; she was still breaking him out.

For long moments, she considered her choices. Then she pulled out her phone and called him. He answered, “Hello, Camille.”

She turned to Griffin who was watching her. “Your legacy is about to come true.”

She heard him let out a sigh of relief and utter a profound, “Thank you.”

Tears burned her eyes, rolling one after the other down her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Daughter. You have made me very proud.”

Through her tears, she hung up. “I’m with you, Griffin. Now, how do we get him out?”

Ernest was waiting for them in the bar. He sat in a back booth with a beer in one hand and a smartphone in the other. Lyle was stocking the bar when Cam and Griffin entered. He hitched his head toward Ernest. “Been here for the last two hours nursing that one beer. Save me, will you?”

Cam smiled. “I love Ernest.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be worthless to me,” Griffin warned her.

They went to the back where Ernest was waiting. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in the past twenty-four hours.

“You can’t fire me,” Ernest said. “I know where you live.”

Griffin walked up to him and smiled. He couldn’t help it. Ernest angry was priceless. “Sorry. I just don’t want Harding to ruin your life, your career, and your soul.”

“I’m a big boy. I know you don’t believe that.” Ernest pointed his beer at him. “But I can make these decisions myself. Harding is a dip wad.”

Cam stood next to Griffin. “He has a point.”

Ernest nodded and aimed his beer at her. “See?”

“You come with us, you won’t be able to go home,” Griffin warned him.

“Already got my stuff in a van,” Ernest said.

“And you can’t run to your family and friends.”

“Don’t have either,” Ernest countered. “ ’Cept you.”

That took Griffin by surprise. It never occurred to him to ask.

“And you could be on the run forever,” Griffin added for good measure. He wanted to make sure that Ernest understood fully what he was getting into.

The kid nodded. “I know all that. I already calculated the odds, and really, you don’t want to know them. But for once in my life, I finally get to do something that matters.”

Griffin put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. There was nothing else he could say. “I’m sorry. I should have given you the choice. If you want to ruin your life, you’re welcome to hang with us.”

“Damn right,” Ernest said, and took a big swig of warm beer. He coughed a little and pretended to like it. “What next?”

“I have a very important mission for you,” Griffin said. “We have to get Cam’s father out of the detention center.”

Ernest’s eyes widened. “Sweet. Do I get a gun?”

“No,” Cam and Griffin said in unison.

“It’ll be just me and Cam,” Griffin said and then an idea crossed his mind. “Unless . . . you care to join me in some fashion.”

He and Ernest smiled at each other and then turned their attention to Cam.

She eyed them warily. “What?”

The humans had killed three of their own. Aristotle sat at his table and pondered what kind of monsters would do such a thing. But then he’d met many such monsters, so desperate to protect their world that they’d sacrifice their own people. Collateral damage, they called it, to lose a few in order to save the many.

“What do you want to do, boss?” Red asked. “You know they’re going to use those killings against us.”

The kid was worried and rightly so. Aristotle wished he had words of wisdom to offer or even a suitable retaliation. He had known Harding would ruin property, but to murder innocent people—that had never crossed his mind.

The attacks were escalating, and that meant they were getting ready to launch their final campaign against the Shifters. Time was running out.

“We have to go after Harding,” he said.

Red slammed his palm on the table and said, “Finally!”

“Don’t get overly excited,” Aristotle warned him. “We do that, and we have all of XCEL on our asses. It could make matters much worse.”

“At least it’ll slow things down,” Red pointed out.

“For how long?” Aristotle asked. “There is always another enemy out there.”

Red f rowned. “It’s better than sitting here doing nothing.”

That was true, perhaps. But Aristotle feared that it was only a matter of time before his species died. Never in his lifetime did he expect to witness such a thing.

“Anything on Camille or her partner?”

Red shrugged. “They tried to stop the one hit I tipped them on. Camille was badly injured but survived. I think they’re ready for us. Except—”

Aristotle glanced at him. “What?”

Red said, “Harding is watching them very closely now. If we make a move on them, we’ll have to be careful.”

It was a glimmer of hope, although how much of a difference they could make, he didn’t know. “Find a safe place to meet.”

“Will do. What about Harding?” Red asked.

The old man leaned back in his chair, and it creaked from age. “Watch him for the next few days. We need to know his schedule, where he goes and when.
Before
we try to capture him.”

Red asked, “Why?”

“Because if we do it quietly,” Aristotle replied patiently, “it may buy us more time.”

“And what do we do with Harding once we have him?” Red asked.

That was a good question. “We’ll lock him up.”

“For how long?”

Aristotle answered, “For as long as this takes.”