Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
My mission is simple. Break into Dieter’s office, grab the evidence of his next arms deal, plant a few bugs. The best time to do this is when he's in his house, thinking he’s safe, thinking all is well.
I halt in the hall before the office door, listening for any incoming guards. Dieter’s security is excellent, but it’s not enough to deter a werewolf. My heightened hearing, night vision and sense of smell give me the advantage.
“I’m at the office,” I murmur to my comm. “There’s no sign of extra security.” No fingerprint or eye scanner, nothing. I put my hand on the latch, and it opens smoothly. “Door’s unlocked.”
“Noted. Security cams quiet. Proceed with caution,” a new voice chimes in. Lance, from the safety of his new home. He’s grounded from missions until further notice, but he insisted on being radio backup.
The door creaks a little as it completes its arc, but the house remains silent. Somewhere in the house, Gabriel Dieter is asleep in his safe room. If it all goes well, it won't be until he awakes in the morning that he'll know anything is gone.
The way before me is filled with red lasers. A hundred of them, crisscrossing the entire room. No wonder the door wasn’t locked. No human thief could weave through this labyrinth.
But I’m not human.
I back up in the hall and take a running leap. In a maneuver I’ve practiced for weeks on end, I sail head first over the lasers, high enough to brush the ceiling. My jump ends in a roll that deposits me behind the giant desk. I land close to the wall and freeze, every muscle tensed. Silence. Behind me, the red forest of lasers remains untripped. Two feet to my right is a small safe on a ledge built into the wall.
I did it. “I’m at the safe.”
“Roger that,” Lance murmurs.
I sidle over to the safe and turn on the special blacklight built into the collar of my bodysuit. When I move the light over the safe’s keypad, Dieter’s fingerprints show up as blue and purple smudges on the keypad. I read off the relevant numbers to Lance.
“There are no papers left out on the desk?”
“No.”
The lights in the office cut on. I whirl, blinking against the sudden brightness.
“Welcome, Rafe Lightfoot, to my home.”
Gabriel Dieter sits in the corner, lounging in an antique-looking chair that’s probably as old as the house. The bastard’s wearing an honest-to-God dressing gown. Red velvet, with black silk slacks and beaded slippers. Not everyone can pull off a Hugh Hefner look, but Dieter’s going for it. He has thick black hair and bronze skin, and the arrogance of a movie star.
The bastard is wearing sunglasses. Inside. At night.
The lasers have disappeared. One leap, and I could have my teeth at his neck. Except he's holding a gun with an elongated black barrel. “I wouldn't if I were you,” he says in smooth, unaccented English.
My comm comes alive with a sudden crackle. “There are lights on in the office.”
“Hello, Lance,” Dieter calls from across the room. There’s no way he could’ve picked up my comm unless he had shifter hearing, so he must have made a lucky guess. I remain still and watchful, weighing my options.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Gabriel drawls. “I practically rolled out a red carpet.” He cocks his head to the side. “Did you kill my dogs?”
“No.”
He tsks. “So hard to find good help these days.”
“I drugged them,” I lie. “It should’ve worn off by now.” I won’t have Dieter kill his dogs, thinking they’re worthless. I spread my hands to distract him. “So you caught me. Now what?” If he shoots me, it’ll hurt, but I should be able to escape. A few bullets won’t take down a shifter.
“Now I teach you a lesson. I knew you would escalate after your little spy operation in Switzerland, but this breaking and entering is a bit too far.”
“Did you think you could sell AK-47s to warlords, and we wouldn’t do anything about it?”
“Hmm,” he pretends to ponder this. “I wonder what I could give you to drop this little crusade?”
I stifle the growl that rises from my chest. “Nothing.”
“Money, gold, jewels—”
“Not a chance,” I interrupt.
“The names of those who killed your family?”
My muscles turn to stone. “What do you know about that?” My voice comes out hoarse.
“You’d be surprised by how much I know about you, Rafe Lightfoot. I know you and your brother Lance were orphaned as teenagers. I know you want revenge.”
My head’s reeling from this when he adds, “Oh, and congratulations. I hear your brother has gotten a human female with child.” Dieter’s lips draw back in a slow smile. It’s the creepiest thing I've ever seen. “Perhaps I should pay a visit.”
My snarl bursts out before I can stop it. “You leave him alone.”