HISS (9 page)

scrambling behind the trunk for cover. Her heartbeat sped up and she plastered herself to the rough

bark. A cold sweat formed on her skin and her vision flipped between hers and her animals. She

waited. No bullets tore through the vegetation around her. She inched forward, keeping her palm

against the oak.

She may not have grown up in the swamp and she’d never been able to shift but no one screwed

with her relatives, and as much as she hated to openly admit it, Jamison was the father of her child. He

was family. Crossing the bog was her only option. She could find a camp or maybe a few hunters to

help out. No matter, everyone carried guns and all she needed was one or two. Marree swooped down

and snatched up Jamison clothes. Give her some time and she could kill a bitch with the best of her

cousins.
Hang on, Jami, help or a weapon is coming, I’ll come back with whichever I find first.

Marree took another glance in the direction she thought the SUV was and turned to take another

route. As a snake, Jami wouldn’t need his clothes, but she could definitely use them in the marsh. She

knotted the slacks, shoes, and underwear in his shirt. Wrapping the bundle around her torso, she

jogged deeper into the swamp. She would show Jamison she could watch his back and be the mate he

needed. Her feet tangled in a tree root and she stumbled forward. Where the hell did that idea come

from? Being his mate was a stretch, but she could at least help make sure they made it out the bayou

alive. She rose to her feet and immediately started running.

So much time had passed, Cheryl had been wrong. Tears blurred her vision. She could be everything

and more to Jamison. Not an obstruction as that bitch of his mother had put it so many years ago.

They were both looking forward to graduation. Their dreams were finally coming to fruition with

her acceptance into School of Veterinary Medicine. He had his pick of law schools to attend. They

would be active and contributing members of the Constrictor Clutch. She couldn’t shift but, dammit,

she could help those who could. Then Cheryl paid her a visit while Jamison was at the library. With a

saccharine sweet smile she coaxed her way into their apartment.

Marree jumped a log, landing on her feet. She kept moving as fast as she could over the water-

logged ground. The conversation she had with Jamison’s mother played through her mind like a

recorder. So desperate to impress Cheryl, her excitement was palpable when the woman showed up,

unannounced. Marree had pulled out her best tea pot and the small service of china Loretta had given

her for Christmas one year. It was the first time she’d thought to use the thin bone white porcelain.

Her happiness was quickly doused when his mom reached in her purse and pulled out a wad of cash.

She met Marree’s gaze with cool disdain. “Here’s ten thousand dollars. Yours. You’re welcome to

take the money if you walk out my son’s life right now.”

Marree had been at a loss for words.

Cheryl paused before continuing. “Not enough?” She leaned forward and grabbed Marree’s hand.

Her palms had been leathery and bone chillingly cold. The skin on the back of her pale white fingers

was paper thin showing a network of blue tinged veins.

“I know you want to be a vet. Goddess knows Jamison has told me all about how you want to help

shifters.” She rolled her eyes. “There are reasons people remain at certain stations in society.

Sometimes clans aren’t meant to move up in the hierarchy. As Jamison’s mother it is my job to

protect him, and that includes keeping him safe from greedy young women who have no way of

helping him in his pursuit of becoming our clutch’s Alpha. I’ve received some very disturbing reports

including one which moved me to take this action.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marree tilted her head and the kettle started to whistle. She

slid her hands free of the crazy woman’s grip.

“I’m saying that I know you’re pregnant and given your background I don’t believe the child is my

son’s. Furthermore, I won’t have you trying to saddle him with your bastard offspring.”

Marree rose from her chair and walked to the kitchen. She twisted the knob which turned off the

stove and strode back into the small sitting area. The idea that someone was watching her and

reporting to Jamison’s mother sent uncomfortable shivers up her spine. “I haven’t told anyone about

our baby,” she muttered.

A smug knowing grin lifted Cheryl’s lips. “Doesn’t matter. I know and I have ways of finding out

many things. So for the sake of child, I’m feeling benevolent. Take the money on the table and I’ll add

an additional fifteen thousand to the pot.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook

and pen. “That should help you with bills. Babies can be expensive.” She scribbled in the register, tore

off the slip and held out the thin rectangular piece of paper. “You must pack your things and leave

today. I’m expecting good news, and I want you gone before Jamison is notified.” She placed the

check on top of the cash.

“I think I’ll wait for Jami.”

Cheryl’s lips turned down. Her eyes flashed, exposing her beast before she masked her anger. “Yes,

let’s. Of course I would hate to show him these pictures of you with that human boy you’re always at

the student center with.” Jami’s mother dug into her bag and pulled out a stack of pictures. The images

didn’t reflect two friends putting their head together to figure out a problem. Instead they portrayed

lovers caught in a thrall of a secret meeting.

Marree tossed them on the table. “Like Jami would believe that.”

“I don’t know where you came from, and Loretta is tightlipped about your heritage, but do you

really want to challenge me?” Cheryl cocked a thin brow. “Jamison will trust me. I’m his mother and

I’ve always placed his wants ahead of my own.
And
he knows that. Even if he decides to stay with you

he will always have the seed of doubt I’ve planted, and it will overshadow everything he does with

your bastard baby. Just leave now and save yourself of having to do it a few years from now.” She

leaned back in her seat. “I’ll let you think about it.”

“Get out!” Marree’s stomach roiled. Vomit rose in her throat and she placed a protective hand over

her belly. His mother’s laughter rankled.

When the woman didn’t move, she marched to the other side of the room and started packing. If she

spent any more time with Jamison’s mother, she might strangle the woman. She only took a few

things, sure Jami would come and find her once he’d found out she’d left. Cheryl watched her from

beady eyes, tracking her movements as she hurried about the area. Once she had her things packed she

passed by the bitch without a second glance at her or her money. She waited, but Jami never came for

her.

She fell face first on the ground. Marree spit out the dirt and tried to wipe it off her tongue with her

hand. A tart, foul, grainy substance spread across her taste buds and she lurched forward on her knees

as her gut rebelled. What little she had in her stomach burned her throat as she puked. She staggered to

her feet and wiped the hand across her mouth. Something scuttled through the leaves and she skipped

to the side.

Over the years Mais had tried to teach her how to track, and recently Sasha had begun to train her in

self-defense moves. She would need both to get out of the situation she was in. Taking in a deep

breath, she closed her eyes and focused on what was happening around her. Nocturnal creatures were

making noise, so the smaller animals weren’t scared. She opened her eyes and lifted her arm to check

her watch. In the dark she couldn’t make out the hands on the face of her time piece. She looked up.

The half-moon was more than halfway past its zenith. It had to be early morning; four, maybe five

a.m. If nothing had happened to Jami, he should be able to find her easily.

She marched over to a tree and checked to see which side the any plant growth was on. That moss

always grew on the North side so she would need to head in the opposite direction. Betaille should

have been South of her. First, she needed to rest. She doubled over and placed her palms on her knees,

sucking in short breathes. The soles of her feet throbbed where she had run over the debris that littered

the ground.

Though her form never changed, she was a shifter and more important, a snake. At least that’s what

she’d always been told. Therefore she would handle this like her pride demanded. She hefted the

clothing bundle over her shoulder and marched on. One way or another she would find her way out of

the bog and not once did she doubt that Jamison was okay.

* * * *

interstate. Whatever Jamison was up to, he must have been in a hurry. It would have taken forever to

find him if she hadn’t stuck a tracker under his fender. With the ease of familiarity, she slipped out of

her four by four and soundlessly stalked over to Jamison’s vehicle. Bullet holes riddled the driver’s

side. She glanced around, seeking the possible source of the gunfire. Leaning into the seat she noted

the keys were still dangling from the ignition switch. She kept her gun low and her index finger on the

trigger. After walking around the SUV, she crossed the two lane highway to check beyond the cover of

foliage.

A hundred yards away from the truck, she found a spent pile of casings. She crouched to pick up the

empty cylinders, nine millimeter, semi-automatic. They were similar to the one she’d found from the

shot that had been fired at her the day before. She raised her chin and sniffed the air. Gun oil and

powder tickled her nose. Kiele separated the scents, pushing past the metallic odors. The harsh smell

of ammonia made her wrinkle her nose. That was anger and probably Jamison’s. A thin underlying

aroma of bitter almonds and perfume had to be Marree’s confusion. Finally, she reached the stinging

tang of cold resolve.
The attacker.
Kiele focused on that stench and followed the thread past Jamison’s

SUV into the water retention ditch. There was no stink of blood or death.

She climbed up the embankment and walked to her truck to grab a few items. Before she took a trek

into the marsh she needed to make a call. She opened the door and light from the interior cab spilled

out onto the asphalt. She pulled her company cell from the door and pressed the avatar for Heinrich.

She didn’t bother to wait for him to speak. When the line clicked she immediately spoke. “I don’t

know what game you’re up to but I don’t play well with others.”

Heinrich’s grainy voice made his words sound jumbled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She inserted a strand of steel in her voice. “Kinda hard to do when you’re trying to play me against

another assassin.”

“What? Your clan is the only one I hired. That isn’t a bad idea considering you can’t seem to do

your damn job.”

“Coyote, I will wipe you and every fucking member of your family off the face of this earth if you

think for one minute you can double cross me.” She pressed her lips close to the mouth piece and

continued. “Actually I’d do it for free and consider it a public service. Call off your dogs before you

piss me off.”

“Do you know who I am?” Heinrich yelled. “I can make you disappear with a snap of my fingers.

You will complete your task and provide proof of death within twenty-four hours or you can bet that

tight ass you will be the one I’ll have eliminated next.”

“Listen you Shadow Clan bitch. The contracts are signed and in the hands of the Volkshire pack. My

target’s death is a moot point. As for me, well, I’m more valuable to your partners than you will ever

be.”

“I want the snake dead strictly on principle. I give less than a damn about the alliance. My plans

exceed what your tiny brain can comprehend. Your superiors will be hearing all about your reluctance

to complete your mission.”

“I’m okay with that, dog.” Her accent thickened. “I would suggest you start looking over your

shoulder because when this task is done, I’m coming for you. I bet my handler won’t mind either. That

pompous prick is probably tired of listening to your whiney ass also.” She disconnected the call and

reached into the back seat for her bag. It was time to go hunting. It had to be the same fucker she’d

tried to lure in to the deeper recesses of the bog. Something had spooked the bastard then, but she

wouldn’t lose her prey a second time.

She grabbed a few grenades from her bag and strapped them to her belt. Why she always ended up

with the cracked clients she would never understand. Just once she’d like to have a housewife with a

cheating spouse bent on revenge, a simple wham, bam you’re dead, man. But, no, she always got the

megalomaniacs with some serious mental issues. She pulled a few guns and clips out the duffle and