* * *
Walker Danielson woke up again flat on his back, his wrists taped together in front of him. He’d swum into and out of wakefulness since the Shifter had taken him down to the yard in front of his neat bungalow. Walker had woken again in the living room of one of the bungalows, surrounded by men in Collars who looked as though they wouldn’t mind tearing Walker apart and leaving bits of him around as a warning to others.
The desk jockeys in the Shifter Bureau thought Shifters were pushovers, contained and controlled. They congratulated themselves about it.
But Shifters were dangerous, and that Bengal tiger Shifter was even more dangerous than most. Walker’s commander knew it too. When Walker had made his report about the hospital to the Bureau, he’d been told to contact Dr. Brennan and suck up to the human woman Tiger seemed to like, and see if they could make her find out more about Tiger for them.
Carly Randal. She was pretty, friendly, polite—a well-brought-up Texas girl. She hadn’t bought Brennan’s bullshit for one minute. She’d recognized the danger in Walker, and knew her Shifter friends couldn’t let Walker go.
So now Walker woke up on the floor of yet another Shifter house, after the one called Dylan had shot tranquilizer into him, looking in no way worried about it. Dylan’s gaze had told Walker that if the decision had been up to him, he would have given Walker a lethal dose.
Walker assessed his situation through half-closed eyes while he lay as motionlessly as possible, so that anyone set to watch him wouldn’t realize he was awake.
They’d taken the duct tape from his mouth. That didn’t mean kindness—it meant they didn’t worry about who would hear him if he called out. He must be pretty deep into Shiftertown.
This living room was similar to the one in the Morrissey house. The ceiling was beamed, the windows wide casements, one open to let in the air, as hot as it was. This house was bigger than the other, the living room twice the size of the Morrisseys’. The back half of the room bore a long table with many chairs. A polished wooden staircase led upward, and a door near the table presumably led to a kitchen.
A lot of Shifters must live here, judging from the length of the table and the haphazard way the chairs had been pushed in. It looked like every chair was used.
The room appeared to be empty, as far as Walker could tell. They’d left him alone. Because Shifters were the best predators on earth, that meant they weren’t afraid of him escaping. Not even with the open window.
Walker wet his lips, opening and closing his mouth a few times. He’d love some water.
But thirst was only a distraction. Walker wasn’t dying. He moved his wrists, dislodging the sticky part of the tape from his skin, and set about making his way out of the bonds.
Walker closed his eyes as he worked, taking time to rest. Getting out would not be easy, and he’d need all the energy he could find.
Duct tape was easier to manipulate than plastic zip ties or metal handcuffs, unless he had something with which to pick a handcuff’s lock. Tape was a matter of loosening it in order to slide out at least one hand, and from there he’d be fine.
Thank the saints he’d had a mentor who’d insisted on putting Walker through exercises like these and more. You might think me unfeeling and my methods harsh, the man had said. But if you’re ever in any of these situations behind enemy lines, you won’t panic. You’ll know exactly what to do. He’d turned Walker into a talented escape artist.
The tape loosened and Walker wriggled one hand free. That was enough to let him unwind the other hand. He reached for the tape on his legs.
And found himself right back down on his back, a foot planted in the center of his chest. A bare, shapely foot.
Walker looked up a long, equally bare and equally shapely leg to a woman who wore denim shorts over a fine ass and a T-shirt that read “Keep Austin Weird.” She had dark brown hair that glinted with lighter highlights, the hair falling a little past her shoulders in thick waves. Her face was incredible, her smile wide, her eyes brown and inviting.
She had to be more than six feet tall, and the foot on his chest spoke of strength.
“Not so fast, sunshine,” she said, her smile widening. “You stay here with me.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Walker swallowed on his dry throat. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Rebecca. A bear Shifter, if you’re wondering. And you’re Walker.” She tilted her head to consider him. “I like that name.”
“So did my mom.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.” Rebecca leaned forward, her large br**sts behind the tight shirt softening and coming within reach. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Walker. You’ll be staying here, in my living room, until Liam figures out what we should do with you. Want some water? When I took the tape off your mouth, your lips were dry. You have to be thirsty.”
Walker cleared his throat. “Water would be nice.”
Rebecca lifted her head, but the pressure on Walker’s chest didn’t ease. He wouldn’t be able to dislodge her foot in a hurry.
“Olaf,” Rebecca called. “Olaf, honey, bring out the water for our guest.”
The kitchen door opened, and out walked a small boy with white hair and night-dark eyes, carrying a sports bottle with both hands. The boy came to Walker without fear and held out the bottle.
Walker took it, mystified. He knew that if he tried anything, such as hitting the kid or slamming Rebecca onto her back and barreling through Olaf to get away, Rebecca would kill him. The look on her face told him no less.
Walker wouldn’t use a child to help himself escape. He wasn’t that way. He upended the bottle of water and drank.
They might have drugged the water to keep him groggy, but at this point, Walker didn’t care. When he was more rested and no longer thirsty, he’d be better fit to get away. The water tasted normal, though, nothing added that he could taste.
Olaf watched him drink, his look grave. No child should be so quiet and serious. He didn’t look anything like Rebecca, so not her son or her brother. The kid was about ten, his eyes black—not dark brown as Walker had first thought. They were the eyes of an animal, a sad animal.
Walker handed the empty bottle back to Olaf. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Olaf said, then he turned and walked back to the kitchen, his job finished.
“Were you trying to lull me into submission with a cute kid?” Walker asked, wiping his mouth.
“Did it work?”