Gator's Challenge (14 page)

R
eality wanted to intrude
. Melanie didn’t want to let it. She refused to think about the fact that they’d made love in front of an audience. Refused to think about what would happen next.

She hugged Wes tight, as if by holding on she could keep the ugliness away.

It didn’t work. “The subjects will move to opposite ends of the room,” a man’s voice ordered.

“Dr. Philips can kiss my ass if he thinks I’m leaving you. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Wes set her on her feet and smoothed down her pathetic excuse for a dress.

The words warmed, and yet, she couldn’t help but wonder how Wes would manage to keep his promise. “What are we going to do?”

“Bust out of this joint.”

Great optimism, but for one teensy problem. “How? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re locked in a room.”

“Yup.”

“And?” she prodded.

“And I will get us out.”

A heavy sigh blasted past her lips. “How?”

“Dare me,” he said with a grin that didn’t quite match the cold glint in his eye.

“Dare you?” she repeated.

“Yes, challenge me to get us out. I’m a Mercer. It’s part of my genetic makeup to have to attempt it, no matter how impossible seeming.”

“And how is challenging you going to change facts?”

“Because I’m a Mercer. I’ll find a way.”

“Enough chattering. There is no escape. You are in a sealed room. You will separate and move to opposite ends. Comply or I will release gas into the chamber.”

Wes pivoted to face the glass window—tall, straight, and bristling. Danger hummed under his skin. “Are you really stupid enough to think for one minute I’d believe you’ll gas us? Like hell you will. I know you, Dr. Philips. I know how desperate you are for your little project to succeed. You won’t do anything that might risk your breeding experiment. Because, if you do, my uncle will have your balls.”

An imp made Melanie add, “For dinner.”

Wes tossed her a look, his lips twitching in an almost smile. “With hot sauce.”

“You are not leaving that chamber until you are separated and contained. The longer you refuse, the longer you stay locked in there.” Dr. Philips put on his sternest voice for his threat.

It left Wes unimpressed. “You want to leave us here? Sounds good to me.”

It did? She quickly saw his logic. In there, together, at least, she could pretend some hope.

“You’re being stubborn.”

Wes cocked his head. “Just being a Mercer. Now, if you’re done, go inject yourself with some more stupid shit. With any luck, you’ll think you’re a dog and decide your time is better spent playing fetch.”

This time, she laughed out loud. The situation was dire, her life in jeopardy, but still, Wes was with her.

With her. Loving her. He might not have said as much, but he had to. Why else fight for her like this?

Dr. Philips made a sound that came close to a growl. “You won’t get any food, water, or any other amenities until you obey.”

Tapping his chin, Wes smirked. “No food? Are you sure about that?” He sniffed. A big, long whiff with his eyes shut that culminated in a wide, tooth-filled grin. “I smell coward behind that glass. It’s not my preferred meal of choice, but a gator’s got to eat.”

“You can’t get to me. This is bullet-proof glass.”

“Never did much like that word can’t. And I never could say no to a challenge.” Wes flexed his arms, his skin rippling. “Stand back, angel. I think it’s time we blew this joint.”

Past time. She might have asked how he planned to get them, except she noted Wes began to morph, his control over the changes in his body astonishing. His torso widened, and thick scales rose from his skin, their color dark and dull out of water. The skin she’d so recently touched and admired turned into something else. Wes made himself into an armor-plated beast, which then ran on powerful legs at the glass.

Bang
. He hit it shoulder first, the window absorbing most of the impact. Most being the key word. The window vibrated at the shock, and she heard the slight crackle of things straining.

“You can’t get through.”

Surely Wes heard the waver of uncertainty in those words. She did, and she could have laughed. The room surely was impenetrable—to normal people. Even difficult for most shifters to escape from. She’d wager the walls were concrete. The doors reinforced steel. But in wanting that window to watch the action, they’d created a weak spot. A weak spot not meant for a big, bad gator in a pissed-off mood.

Wham
. The vibration went on longer this time it seemed as the glass shuddered.

Wes retreated and ran again as it still quivered.

The doctor screamed, “Stop!”

As if Wes would listen.
Bang
. He hit the glass again, and this time, it did more than shudder. He left behind a hairline crack.

The doctor stopped yelling. Not a good sign.

Wes took a few steps away from the window, readying for another rush. In the silence, she heard the hiss of escaping gas. “They’re going to drug us!” she warned, taking a deep lungful of oxygen before it became contaminated.

Wes didn’t reply. This dark beast had no expression. He charged again, ramming hard against the window with his shoulder. The single split fractured into a spider web of lines.

An alarm went off.
Whoop
.
Whoop
. The strident sound pierced her ears. But she didn’t mind it because it meant Dr. Philips was scared.

He should be scared.
Very scared because they were coming for him.

With his next bull gator rush, Wes smashed through. The hard ridge of his scales prevented him from getting sliced to ribbons. His armor also meant the dart the doctor fired at him bounced off.

“Ffffucker.” Wes hissed the word as he lunged through the opening.

“Don’t touch me,” screamed the doctor, and surprisingly, she aped his words.

“Don’t kill him. We need him alive to use the elevator.”

“I’ll save him,” Wes grumbled, “as a snack for later.”

The use of her air to talk meant her lungs burned. The gas swirled around Melanie as she fought not to breathe. She ran at the opening in the wall, reaching it just as Wes finished knocking out the sharp shards remaining.

He vaulted through and then turned to offer her a hand. She grasped it and let him pull her into the control room. She ignored the slumped body on the floor, gasping for air, feeling the tinge of the tranquilizer gas, acrid on her tongue.

The gas oozed into the room, overtaking the fresh stuff.

“We need out,” she wheezed.

The door wouldn’t yield to Wes’s tug. She tapped his wrist, and he growled, “Duh,” before grabbing the unconscious doctor and tossing him over a shoulder. Melanie held the doctor’s wristband and then thumb against the scanner.

The door clicked open, and they stumbled into the hall, the gas trying to follow. She quickly slammed the door shut then turned at the
rat-tat-tat
of feet.

A pair of human guards ran toward them.

A roar erupted from Wes.

The guards replied by dropping to their knees and firing.

Wes immediately threw himself in front of Melanie. The darts fired fell harmlessly to the floor. As Wes advanced on the men, Melanie realized she couldn’t keep hiding behind Wes.

I’m not a coward.
But she could use some help from a certain feline.

Here kitty, kitty. Can you come out and play?

Ever since that last shot in her cell, she’d noted her senses coming alive. Could feel a certain vibration in her body that let her know she was returning to normal. She’d managed to pop some claws, but was that all?

Time to see if she could shift.

Ready?

Meow
! Her panther burst out in an exuberant rush of fur and fangs, scattering the remnants of her paper gown. Power coursed through her limbs. Strength as well. With a push of hind legs, she bounded down the hall, snarling at the humans with wide, white eyes. Eyes that stared blankly once she bowled into them.

Keep me prisoner will they?

Rawr
!

She kept on running past the downed guards, the other half of her reminding the alarm would draw more of the humans with their weapons.

Squeaky toys. Yay
.

Dangerous
, her more logical self reminded.

Yes, dangerous, with their weapons that fired those things that made her want to sleep. At least they were firing darts and not bullets. But that might not last long once the enemy realized she and Wes were on the loose.

The elevator doors slid open just as they arrived. The guards sporting real guns never stood a chance. They didn’t even have time to scream as she leaped on one and Wes thundered into the other. Between the two of them, she slashed her foe into silence while her mate crushed the weaker body.

We make a formidable pair.
No wonder their enemy Parker wished to mate them. Their children would be stupendous.

As the elevator door closed, shutting them in the box that moved, her fur remained hackled. Anger made her twitch. Someone had tried to lock her away. That male, the one she’d had as mate, tried to do her harm.

And they took my cubs.

She planned to get them back.

The doors opened and surprised those standing outside. Wes tossed the body of the human he carried at the guards, sending most falling to the floor. As for the one that dodged to the side and dared to raise his weapon?

With a snarl, she leaped and took him down. It proved messy, another layer of grime on her lush fur, but she’d have to groom herself later. They hadn’t escaped yet.

No escape until we locate the cubs.

Their last location put them at the top floor. However, she and the gator appeared stuck on the main level. The elevator doors had sealed shut and wouldn’t open, no matter whose wrist and thumb Wes slapped against the scanner.

Let me back out.

Her cat relinquished control, and Melanie shifted back, welcoming the painful reshaping of her bones as a sign that at least part of her was back to normal.

Wes remained in his hybrid shape. She couldn’t have said how. She’d heard that, while it was possible to maintain a half shift, only a few could manage it. The strength of will required too much for most.

“What should we do?” She truly was at a crossroads of dilemmas. She needed to locate her boys, and yet, if she stayed, she would run the high risk of getting captured again. Maybe killed.

On the other paw, if she escaped, she could go for help, but would she get back in time to save her boys?

Instead of replying, Wes’s head lifted.

She heard it a moment later, too. The crack and pop of gunfire.

“What the hell?” she muttered, taking a few steps toward the windows at the front of the building.

An explosion rocked the floor under their feet. The whooping alarms trebled in reply.

A glance through the glass windows of the lobby for the research building showed people running and screaming, but more interesting, smoke billowed in the distance by the front gate.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

A computer voice announced, “Perimeter breach. All personnel please lock down your workstations. Security forces to the gate. This is not a drill.”
Whoop
.
Whoop
.

It would have proven fascinating—in a movie! Being a part of what sounded like guerilla warfare? Kind of freaky, especially when Wes exclaimed, “Stay here. I’ll go look.”

Wes charged through the glass, the more decorative windows on this floor easier to break than that several levels below.

She thought about following, and yet… She stared at the ceiling, wondering if her missing boys had left the building. Given how hard it was to get in and out, could they have taken her advice and hidden where no one could find them?

How could she go and look?

The elevator doors dinged open, but the cab appeared empty. She dove into the elevator and slapped at the console to shut them.
Move, do something
. But the screen flashed red and mocked her with the word, “Lockdown.”

But there was more than one way to go up. She peeked at the ceiling. While hard to distinguish, it was there. Just like in every movie. A hatch. It took her jumping a few times, banging it, to push it to the side then another leap to grab the edges and haul herself through.

Once inside the shaft, she peeked up, way up. A metal-rung ladder embedded in the concrete provided a method to climb.

As she stared at the daunting climb, the whooping alarm cut out. In the new silence, her ears rang a bit with the echo of the strident call. Fingers gripping the metal, she climbed, trying to ignore the distant sound of gunfire. What happened outside? Was it the good guys, come to rescue?

Or had Bittech drawn the attention of enemies? Their kind long feared humanity’s discovery. If they knew monsters walked among them, would they move to rid themselves of a perceived threat?

She didn’t even want to contemplate a world where their kind might get hunted.

Never hunted. We are the dominant species. They are only prey.

A very simple animal reaction, an outdated one. Today’s humans didn’t keep things fair by fighting with only their body. They used knives, spears, and, most deadly of all, guns.

All the skill in the world couldn’t help if someone shot a shifter long range.

Please let this be a rescue. Let this nightmare end. Let her find her babies.

Keeping her boys in mind, she clambered up the ladder, the adrenaline of doing something powering her movement. She only slowed at the top, stumped initially by the closed doors. Now what?

Open them. Put a little muscle into it.

Smart-ass cat. But her feline was right.
I can open these.
Before, she’d found herself unable to pry them open, the surface seamless with nothing to grip. But they’d not paid as close attention within the shaft.

The tips of her claws wedged in the seam, she took a few deeps breaths before straining. It took a bit of grunting, a few muttered choice words—including “open, you fucking piece of scrap metal.” They finally opened when she talked about taking a blowtorch to them and melting them into a puddle. A gaping portal didn’t mean she immediately dove through. Wanting to live meant acting smart.