Oriana and the Three Werebears (4 page)

As she continued to study the three smiling visages within her hand, the primal urge that insisted she call for help then flee for her life vanished, and the room swayed beneath her feet. With her fear induced adrenaline rush rapidly subsiding, her battered body began to throb with pain.

She needed to lie down for a spell before she collapsed.

Placing the picture back on the desk, Oriana shuffled into the hall. There were five more doors. One of them had to lead to a guest room.

Oriana sat on the king-sized bed, her weight barely affecting the hard memory foam mattress. This first room, with its red, charcoal and steel colored accents, was sparse and tidy, much like the first desk in the office.

Rising to her feet, she approached a wall that displayed more certificates. The diplomas, certifications and awards, all in IT and management fields, were impressive.

“Jack McMathan.”
Obviously the oldest of the bunch.

Neatly arranged on top of the dresser were the usual manly items. Watch, wallet, some coins. She resisted the urge to look in the wallet—not that she wanted to take anything, but only to satisfy her curiosity and learn more about the man. However, she didn’t want to pry more than she had, and the owners had to return some time. She would learn more about him then.

She picked up his cologne and sniffed it. “Jack,” she whispered, memorizing the spiced scent. Then replacing the bottle in its spot atop the dresser, she turned and left, resuming her search for the guest room.

The next room over was decorated in various shades of green and chocolate, and smelled fresh and woodsy. Timber shelves lined the walls, all filled with books, geodes, models and other science geek stuff.

“So which brother are you?”

A book lying on the side table caught her eye.

Oriana sat down on the queen-sized bed, gasping when she fell back and sank into the soft middle with an audible
whoosh.
With arms and legs flailing, she struggled against the liquid mattress sucking her in and enveloping her body like a quicksand tomb. Miraculously, she managed to roll onto her side and push herself up into a sitting position. Leaning all her weight forward for balance, she spent a few moments catching her breath, then reached for the unassuming hardbound book lying on the nightstand.

She opened it and found a neatly penned title page. “
The Personal Journal of Jordan McMathan, Volume Twenty-Eight
.” Oriana promptly shut the cover and placed the diary back where it belonged.

Groaning, she slid off the waterbed and forced her shaking legs to take her back into the hall. Only three doors to go.

She trudged into the third room, finding the bright blues and tropical fruit colors refreshing and relaxing, the decor reminding her of California. Posters of women in bikinis hung on the walls along with more family pictures showing the brothers doing exciting sports like bungee cord jumping and hang gliding.

“And you must be Jonathan McMathan. The fun baby brother.”

She sat down on the full-sized bed, trying to summon the strength to proceed on to whatever lay hidden behind door number four. However, the temptation of sleep was strong, and the pillows looked so inviting... Her eyes closed on their own accord.

She shook her head. She needed to stay awake and find the guest room.

Oriana tried to get up, but her legs gave out and her ass fell back upon the comfortable spring mattress. She attempted to rise again, but to no avail. She just didn’t have the energy to go any further.

Perhaps if I rest for just a second...

Not wanting to ruin Jonathan’s sheets, she removed her shoes and tugged her soiled clothing off, tossing them into a pile beside the bed. Sporting nothing but her bra and underwear, she lay down and covered herself with the warm comforter that smelled of sunshine, fresh air, and citrus trees. She closed her eyes.

Her sensibilities tried to offer a feeble protest to her decision.
What will the brothers think if they come home and find you lying half-naked in Jonathan’s bed?

If this room—with the scantily dressed women covering the walls—was any indication of the youngest brother’s personality, she didn’t think any objection would be coming from Jonathan.

Jon stood next to his brothers, staring the front entrance of the bunker and the steel door that had been left ajar.

Shit
. They’d been infiltrated and he was to blame.

“This is my fault. If I hadn’t lost the keys—”

“No, it’s mine.” Jack rubbed his forehead. “I was the one who said it would be fine if we left—”

“Will you two stop?” Jordan said. “Be reasonable. Even if we had secured the door, if someone really wanted in, they would have just broken the lock. Locks are only deterrents, nothing more. The problem is that our location has been compromised. How did they know where we were? How did they find us? How did they arrive and leave the area without us noticing?”

Jon looked to Jack. “Wait. Didn’t you say you smelled a female?”

“Yes, but there are female spies in the world.”

“She was alone?”

“I believe so.”

“Do you think she’s still in there?”

They all turned back to the door.

The eldest placed his hand on the handle. “I guess we should find out. Are you ready?” When Jon and Jordan nodded, Jack swung open the heavy steel. The tunnel was empty. “Let’s go”

As they navigated the dim passageway, Jack leading the way and Jon bringing up the rear, an interesting thought came to Jon’s mind. “Hey, if she has a weapon and our lives are in danger or something, we can shift into bears and eat the bitch, right?”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jordan responded with blatant condensation. “That would make us cannibals. No, we’ll just kill her and be done with it.”

“We’re not killing anyone,” Jack muttered. “We disarm, restrain, and detain—preferably without shifting. Then at the first opportunity, we turn her over to the US government. I’m sure our clients will know what to do with her.”

“I just hope she’s still here,” Jordan said. “I hate to think she got away with a copy of our files. We don’t know who she’s working for. Or how they’ll use the information, and what our clients will say when they hear about the security breach.”

“You both encrypted all your files, right?” At their nods, Jack then asked, “And you both have the fail-safe program embedded in all of them?”

Again, they nodded. The fail-safe was a computer program invented by
Jordan
that worked hand-in-hand with the encryption. If someone tried to bypass the encryption, or used the wrong key in their attempt to decrypt the files, then the fail-safe program would switch on and corrupt the information within the files, thus making it unreadable. And then, as an added bonus, the files would delete themselves.

“And you both remembered to add the tracer program?”

“Yes,” they both replied in unison.

For once in his life, Jon was actually glad that his eldest brother had been such a stickler about security, insisting that they all apply the extra protective measures—even if it meant extra work. Jack’s paranoia might have just saved their asses.

“Then we have time,” Jack continued. “Encrypted or not, if she so much as sticks our files on a computer with even one outside connection, we’ll be able track her down. Once we’ve zoomed in on her location, we’ll tell the clients where to find her, and they can send someone after her.”

They rounded the corner only to find the second door also ajar.

“Was the woman raised in a barn?” Jon whispered. “How hard can it be to close a door?”

“Shush,”
Jordan
hissed.

Jack stuck his head in. “I don’t hear anything. I think she’s gone.” He pushed the door open wide.

The three entered the living room.

Everything appeared normal. “She must have gone straight to the office,” Jon offered. “She obviously knew what she was looking for.”

“The hell she did.”
Jordan
moved toward the dining room.

Following close behind, they all gathered around the table, staring in disbelief. Damn, the woman must have been hungry. She had helped herself to the fruit and cheese platter, nearly finishing it off, and there was nothing but crumbs left in the breadbasket.

Jack picked up his dirty spoon. “It looks like she tasted my stew.”

“I think she sampled mine as well,”
Jordan
remarked dryly, studying his dish.

“Well, at least she only
tried
yours.” Jon held his bowl in the air, then turned it over and shook it for emphasis. “She ate all of mine.”

The strange sensation of déjà vu swept over
Jordan
. He felt like he had lived this moment before, or dreamt of living it.
Paramnesia.
While his mind tried desperately to grasp a fleeting memory that wasn’t there,
Jordan
willed the analytical part of his brain to mentally record the phenomenon. He wanted to remember every detail of the experience so he might effectively log the incident in his journal for further study.

“Let’s check the office,” Jack said.

Pulled from his musings by the suggestion, he followed his brothers to their work area.

Jordan
was pleasantly surprised to find that the room hadn’t been ransacked. The only thing that seemed out of order were the—

“She moved my chair,” Jack grumbled, rolling it back onto the floor mat before his desk.

Poor Jack, he didn’t like anyone sitting in his chair. “Well, she sat in
and
adjusted mine,”
Jordan
offered, indicating that the seat to his chair was higher than usual.

Thump!

They swung around to find Jon’s chair tipped over backwards—with him in it, his feet dangling uselessly in the air.

“Fuck,” Jon growled, rolling the toppled chair over to its side and crawling out of it. “First she eats all my lunch, then she breaks my chair. What’s next?”

Again, that eerie feeling of déjà vu assaulted
Jordan
. “Does this seem vaguely familiar to any of you?”

“Perhaps it’s one of my psycho ex-girlfriends,” the youngest continued as he climbed to his feet. He rubbed the back of his head. “One who’s tracked me down to dish out petty revenge by booby-trapping all my stuff.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Go check the rest of the bunker while Jordan and I finish up here.”

“Gladly.” Jon moved toward the exit. “Be sure to check my computer for rigged explosives. I don’t want to hit the space bar and lose a finger.”

Jack waited until Jon left the room before approaching the large safe in the corner. He looked over his shoulder as he began twirling the dial. “I’m going to run an inventory. You can start checking the equipment.”

“What? So I’m the one who loses a finger?”

Jack smiled. “Take it as a compliment. You’re a genius when it comes to technology. You’d know better than I if something’s been tampered with.”

Jordan
was just about to offer a smartass retort when movement in the doorway caught his eye. He turned to find the youngest sibling standing there with the most perplexed expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked Jon.

“Um…not to sound all mother goose or anything, but there’s some blond chick in my bed.”

Had Jack not been standing there witnessing it for himself, he would have never believed it possible. He still couldn’t.

There really was a gorgeous, nearly naked woman sleeping Jon’s bed.

“She’s pretty,” Jon whispered. “Can we keep her?”

Jordan
smacked Jon’s chest with the back of his hand. “She’s not a stray animal, you dimwit.”

Jack gently shook her shoulder, but she didn’t wake up.
Is she unconscious?
The poor woman looked a little worse for wear.

Noting the leaves in her hair and the pile of dirty, tattered clothes laying on the floor, he guessed she was lost tourist... a really, really lost tourist. She’d probably been wandering the wilderness for days before stumbling upon their bunker.

“Like the story,”
Jordan
remarked. “That’s why I kept feeling the déjà vu.”

“What story?”

“Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

Jack drew his eyes away from the sleeping beauty and frowned. “The fairy tale?”