Body Thief (7 page)

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Authors: C.J. Barry

BOOK: Body Thief
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“Now let’s see what
you’ve
got,” Mercer said as he walked over to unlock the gate of the chain-link fence. His tone caught her attention. It was soft but firm, with just a little edge that made her shiver. There was much more to Mercer than he let her see, and she was determined to uncover it all. Because it could mean the difference between getting what she wanted and not.
When she passed him, she caught a quick whiff of his scent, which, despite everything, was welcomed next to the stench of burnt building.
Mercer locked the gate behind them while Cam circled the exterior of the building, stepping through puddles of water leftover from the fire hoses. Footprints dotted the ground, clogged with soot and mud. A lot of people had been through here. It would make her job tougher.
Cam stopped in front of the building and closed her eyes to concentrate on the slurry of scents. The air was still, breezeless on this warm summer night. Having extraordinary senses in a city like New York was difficult for Shifters. She’d had to learn to turn them down so as not to overload.
When she thought she had her senses retuned to enhance her olfactory nerves, she started sorting through the smells. Burnt materials, one by one, she noted and excluded. Sooty runoff, mud, city odors, she eliminated from her mind. Slowly, the other smells rose, more pronounced.
Mercer moved up behind her, jarring her concentration. Suddenly, she focused on his movements—the rub of the jacket against his jeans, the way he moved so as to not jostle the gun holstered over his T-shirt, the soft footfall of his step. Then his scent wafted over her, full-bore and unhindered by her normal filters. It was nice, clean, and musky. He must have showered before coming out tonight. Her mind wandered there, following an intangible trail before she could stop herself. She dawdled awhile in a fantasy world until she remembered that he was her sworn enemy.
She opened her eyes, breaking all the concentration she’d worked so hard to gather, and glared at him over her shoulder. “You need to give me some space. This isn’t as easy as you might think.”
He hesitated only a moment before taking a step back. “Far enough?”
No, but she wasn’t going to ask again. Instead, she closed her eyes and retraced her mental steps until all the inanimate smells were identified. That left the humans. Mercer, she had on permanent file. Then there were others. They could be investigators, firefighters, owners, or arsonists.
“I’m getting seven strong human scents. Any one of them could be your arsonist,” she told him.
“Any Shifter scents?” he asked.
Cam blew out a long, slow breath and then inhaled. Traces of Shifters filtered into her mind, each with their own distinctive fingerprint. Every Shifter could do this. They’d developed their unique tool kit of abilities over thousands of years in order to survive. It was always safer to smell your enemy before they tried to kill you.
“Cam?”
Speaking of enemies.
“Yes.” She found each distinctive scent and fought the disappointment. Mercer was going to love this. “Three Shifters, all male.”
She opened her eyes and turned to face him. “But that doesn’t mean they set the fire. They could have come here as customers or in some other capacity.”
He gave her a dubious look. “Do you really think that?”
His face was shadowed under streetlights, but she could see his irritation perfectly. “Innocent until proven guilty? Isn’t that what Americans are all about?”
He didn’t move for a moment, matching her glare for glare. She could almost read his mind.
If you’re looking for justice
. . .
Instead, he said, “Let’s go inside.”
Why did she even try? The man didn’t believe in any of it. She wondered why. Seriously, he lived in the greatest country on the planet by most standards. He had a job, even if it
was
killing her people, and he lived without fear of certain death on sight. What more could he want?
Mercer turned on a flashlight, and she followed him through the empty frame of a metal door into the reception area. Water dripped from steel trusses overhead. Charred ceiling tiles littered the floors and furniture. The fire seemed to have scorched every surface.
“They believe the fire started in several places, including here,” Mercer said.
Shifter scents were strong, but she still wasn’t convinced. It didn’t add up. Shifters only went to this kind of trouble if they wanted something badly. “Where else?”
He led her through the building, room by room. They were all the same. And they all smelled like Shifters.
“Well?” Mercer finally asked once they were back outside.
“Shifters set the blaze,” she said, disappointed and not really knowing why. After all, she wasn’t in charge of all the Shifters. She couldn’t care less what the rest of them did. But her twisted gut and the headache that had formed across her forehead said differently. They were all linked by association. Check that. All
guilty
by association.
Then again, she’d bought into this knowing that. Use, or be used. Right now, she was using Shifters. She was no better than XCEL, and that really made her head hurt.
She turned to find Mercer grinning. It was the first time she’d seen him smile. It was very sexy, riveting even, and not in the kind of way she wanted to think about with a man who owned her for the foreseeable future.
“That’ll make Harding happy,” he said, the smile vanishing in a flash.
She huffed. “I can’t believe you put up with his crap. Desperate for a job or something?”
Mercer reached for the lock on the gate and froze. She’d readjusted her senses, but even she could feel the tension emanating from him. His breathing deepened, and his pulse sped up. That was one big-ass nerve she’d just jumped on.
“Or something,” he said and yanked the lock open.
Cam eyed him. “Must be a
really
big something.”
He held the gate open for her, and their eyes met. His were dark, almost blending into the night. “It is, and that’s all you’re getting out of me on that subject.”
She’d never been one to back down from an opening. Cam walked up to him. He had rugged good looks. Not smooth, not polished. Just all male. Or in his case, all male human. She’d met a few of them that were interesting and fun for a night. Mercer would be fun for a lot longer than that.
“Afraid I might get too close, Mercer?” she asked softly, moving near.
He watched her with singular intensity. “You won’t.”
Cam felt her smile grow. “You’d be surprised what I can do.”
He grinned back, challenging her. “I have a few tricks of my own, remember.”
She did. She was also ready to move out of his reach in a heartbeat. But for right now, this was fun and risky, and frankly, she hadn’t had enough of that lately. “That’s what they all say.”
Then he leaned in, his expression turning serious and his breath warm on her face. His hair brushed his forehead. She forgot about keeping her distance. “They might, but I’m the real deal.”
He said it like he meant it, and she believed him. One thing was clear: He’d do what he had to to keep her under control. Under his control. He may smell good, he might even look good, but he was still her adversary.
“So am I, Mercer,” she whispered back and moved through the gate.
 
It was nearly daybreak when Griffin unlocked his apartment door and held it open for Cam. She walked in, still looking fresh and wide awake even after six hours of trudging from site to site across New York City in the wee hours.
“You live here alone?” she asked, walking through his apartment without waiting for an invitation.
He was really regretting the whole full-disclosure deal. “Yes.”
Cam stopped and faced him. Neither one of them had turned on the lights. He could see her by the Shifter glow that hugged her human frame. She could see him in pitch-dark with her super Shifter vision. It made them equal for a brief moment.
“What, no goldfish?”
“I killed them.” He closed the door, locked it, and flipped on the lights. “Thirsty?”
Cam eyed him warily. “Depends. How’d you kill the goldfish?”
“Too much excitement,” he said as he went to the kitchen. The cupboard above the sink contained scotch, vodka, whiskey, and tequila. He opted for the tequila and two glasses. If he was at all lucky, Cam would be a cheap date and crash before he did. She might have agreed not to kill him in his sleep, but it wasn’t like it really counted for anything.
Cam took a seat on a stool across the ceramic tile island from him as he poured a shot into each glass. She raised hers to no one in particular and swallowed it in one gulp. She gave a shudder and slammed the glass on the island. “Hit me.”
Griffin readily refilled her glass. He took a sip of his, felt the liquor burn down his throat, and tried to ignore the fact that a Shifter had invaded the one place he’d manage to keep Shifter-free. “So you’re certain we’ve only identified six Shifters?”
Cam raised her glass and held it to her lips. “
I
identified.
You
were a distraction.”
He wasn’t sure if that was a complaint or compliment. “I stand corrected.”
She gave a
humph
and downed her drink.
“All working in teams of two or three at a time,” he continued and filled her up again. She showed no signs of getting sleepy. “But with the same base scents?”
“They all came from the same place, or at least the same environment. I can’t tell you where though unless I can find that exact combination of smells.” She leaned over the island to retrieve her shot glass.
He was torn between the surprise show of cleavage and the line of questioning he was working on. “Do you think the teams know each other?”
She swiped the refilled glass off the island and walked into the living room with it. “I can’t tell.”
It was a start, at least. He might not have all the answers yet, but he was relieved that this may actually work. Cam was better at isolating scents than he thought possible. Unless she was lying. Which was also possible.
Cam ran a finger across the top of his flat-screen television as she walked around his place. “So, exactly what are we supposed to do with these guys once we catch them?”
“We’re not catching them. We’re just identifying them.”
She inspected the Bowflex exercise system set up in the corner of his living room. “Right. Can’t step over that line, can we?”
Griffin eyed her. Where was she heading with this? “I have orders.”
Cam turned to him and gave a mock salute. “Orders. Yes. So if we find something that isn’t quite right?”
“We report it to Harding,” he said, feeling like he was being ambushed in some way. “He’ll decide whether or not to investigate.”
She smiled benignly. “Of course he will.”
Griffin placed his hands on the edge of the island. “Why don’t you just come out and tell me exactly what is going on here?”
Cam wandered over to his mail and started sorting through it. “Maybe
you
should tell
me
what exactly is going on here.”
That covered a lot of territory. Most of it he had no intention of stepping into. “You’ll need to be a little more specific.”
She trained her eyes on him. “Don’t lie to me, Mercer. Do you know that I can hear your pulse quicken when you lie?”
He eyed her. She was bluffing. Probably.
“This is bigger than you and me finding some bad guys.” She cast him a pointed look. “At least for you. This is
personal
.”
Hell. When had she figured that out? He was going to have to watch himself. He set down his tequila.
Griffin shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the island. “Nothing personal about it. We can’t allow these Shifters to continue to bomb places.”
Cam walked back to him slowly, the breaking sun setting her aglow for a moment. They’d spent most of the night in the dark, so he hadn’t had a chance to appreciate her sleek red hair and big blue eyes. The shirt she wore was unbuttoned down as far as it could go without being illegal. Jeans hugged her hips and legs.

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