Their Improbable Mating [Paranormal Protection Unit 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

Paranormal Protection Unit 3

Their Improbable Mating

The operation was planned for every possible outcome, all but one—complete and total loss of communications. Jackie Sutter doesn't know if anyone is listening, doesn't know if they know where she is, and doesn't know if the cavalry is riding to the rescue. All she knows for sure is that she's suddenly up on the block, being sold in a black market auction to the sexiest man she's ever seen.

The mission is simple—get in and save the girls being sold off at a madman's whim. What Allistair Fairbanks doesn't expect, what throws a wrench into it all, is finding the woman that is his bond-mate on display for all to see. All he has to do now is get her out, convince her they are fated to be together, and live happily ever after.

Never has a mission come with higher stakes. With their very happiness and future riding on the outcome, do they dare not try?

Genre:
Contemporary, Paranormal, Shape-shifters

Length:
45,412 words
 

Paranormal Protection Unit 3

Honor James

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

THEIR IMPROBABLE MATING

Copyright © 2013 by Honor James

E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-229-6

First E-book Publication: February 2013

Cover design by Viola Estrella

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of 
Their Improbable Mating
 by Honor James from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Honor James’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. James’s right to earn a living from her work.

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Thank you to my editor. I honestly do not know what I would do without you. You have managed to keep me on the path with very few deviations for…Ooh! Shiny!

This book I also dedicate, as always, to you, my dearest readers—for without you, I am nothing.

I would also like to dedicate this to the woman who made me, my mother—I love you, Mom!

THEIR IMPROBABLE MATING

Paranormal Protection Unit 3

HONOR JAMES

Copyright © 2013

He really hated that feeling. That sensation of being on the outside looking in. Like everyone else knew the punch line to the joke while he’d missed the good parts. And even if they did explain it to him, it was in a foreign tongue that made it even less decipherable.

He really hated that feeling, and today it seemed worse than ever. Sighing, he shook his head and tried, again, to concentrate on what he was doing. Focus, damn it, he snapped to himself internally. One mistake could cost him his life. Rubbing a hand over his face, he let out a slow breath and forced his concentration to the computer monitor.

There was a lot of data to take in, something he was pretty good at. Not as good as Talon, the leader of the Paranormal Protection Unit, also known as Bulldog, who seemed to have an elephant’s memory, or Skittles, the Lead Computer Tech whose real name was Quincy, who could, or so it seemed, magically pull shit out of thin air. No, he definitely wasn’t up at Mensa-level genius, but he could hold his own usually. Up to a point. Maybe not against his King or the techie, but against pretty much anyone else he was golden.

Unless it was his twin, but they seemed to share a brain 99.9999 percent of the time, so really, that didn’t count. He just stole all his good ideas, really. Pausing, he tipped his head and waited. Nope, he wasn’t listening in.

Focus, you tool!
He had twenty-four hours to know all this stuff or he’d be pulled from the mission and another would go in. He wanted this one. It was kind of personal, not really, but sort of in a vague sixth-cousin-on-his-mother’s-grandmother’s-bastard-son’s-daughter’s-side sort of way. They’d come across this sort of thing too often, and it just sat ill with him. He didn’t like traffickers of human flesh, especially when it was young females and males sold into a life of servitude or worse, sold to some old bastard that used and abused them sexually and mentally. Then when they were broken, they would be tossed aside like a used tissue and the sicko would buy a new slave.

“All right, eyes on the ball,” he muttered and decided to start with his cover again so that he could regain some perspective and hopefully get past his anger and need for retribution against a bunch of unknown men and women, who were codenames and nothing more.

He would be going in as himself, mostly. He’d be a philanthropist by day, good deeds, charities, and kissing babies to appeal to the people who gave him money for his works. By night he had a sick and twisted sex fetish. Apparently he liked early-teen girls, ages eleven to fourteen, well developed for their ages, but they had to be virgins. That put him in an elite grouping.

And, just because Skittles wasn’t twisted enough with that bit, he apparently also liked women in their early twenties, virgins preferably but not a deal breaker. He did insist that if they had had sexual encounters they were very minimal. “Gods, I’m disgusted with myself,” he muttered, scrolling through the screens to learn the “charities” and works he supposedly dealt with. Even if the traffickers decided to do a background check they’d run into Skittles, Bulldog, and a variety of other people that would be rerouting calls to any of the numbers listed to them directly for the period he was undercover. Yeah, it could potentially cause issue with some of the workers and their personal calls, but hopefully they would keep it to a minimum. Besides, that’s what direct numbers were for.

Frowning, he curled his nose up at his newfound sexual predilections. Damn, Skittles had a sick and seriously demented mind. He, or rather who he would be, apparently liked to ensure that his women were hairless on their bodies. So everyone got waxings or laser hair removal or both. “Ouch.” He winced in sympathy at the description of a Brazilian.
Who the hell put themselves through that shit willingly?
He did that to ensure that there was nothing between him and his “tools.” Gagging slightly, he had to go to a different sheet. He couldn’t read it. He just couldn’t. He knew that Skittles had likely gotten all that from various case files from the different agencies from over the years, but still, the fact that one human could do that to another for their so-called pleasure was disgusting.

Blowing out a shaky breath, he reviewed who was going in. His twin would be their driver as well as their muscle. He’d remain in the vehicle and therefore out of view but would still have a disguise just to be absolutely sure. The Bear twins, Mac and Sully, would be his bodyguards, his main muscle, which was fitting. They did like playing the big, dumb, muscle-bound type. As well, Rainier, one of their Panther changers, who had a law degree as well as his business degree, would be acting as his accountant and legal adviser on sight to ensure everything played out right without any possible legal ramifications, for him anyway.

Trey, as well as Omega Team, would be on standby in case the shit hit the fan. Not that they were expecting any issues. He was already being vetted and checked out from what the reports said. It was pretty sad when the bad guys had a better system for checking out people than the good guys in a lot of cases. If he received the invitation to attend the auction and private showing to check the “merchandise,” he would have passed. Either that or they figured he was law enforcement and were setting him up to get killed. Here was hoping that they figured he was just another sick sociopath with an addiction he needed fed.

Getting up, he grabbed his empty mug and headed for the lunch room that serviced all the offices. Running his profile through his head over and over again so that it would be second nature, he poured more coffee before raiding the fridge. Finding a platter of sandwiches, he stared at it a second and, after a quick look around, pulled out a couple of corned beef and put them on a plate. There wasn’t a note on them, so hopefully he wasn’t stealing something he shouldn’t. Feeling bad though, he did leave ten bucks on top of the platter, just in case.

Carrying everything back to his office, he shut the door and sat on the large, overstuffed sofa across from his desk. Kicking his legs up onto the ottoman he used for a coffee table, Allister sat back to eat and continued running all the details through his head.

The invitation should come in soon. Hopefully it did. Then there’d be no option but to let him take the role. Otherwise Skittles would have to do some fancy footwork to come up with why someone was there in his stead. Not good for the untrusting bad guys who would just clam up and close up shop, disappearing into the ether with their “goods.”

Looking up, he nodded to his twin as he wandered into his office. “Sandwich?” He offered his plate up to his brother.