Buried and Shadowed (Branded Packs #3)(35)

Sinclair’s wolf pressed beneath his skin, elongating his fangs and making his eyes glow. Thankfully, the house was shadowed enough to hide his reaction.

“Anything,” he said, keeping his face partially turned. “No matter how meaningless it might have seemed.”

Tanya gave a nod, thankfully unaware that she was standing in the presence of a shifter.

“I don’t know if it helps, but the night that she left, I happened to glance out the window and I thought I saw her car going into the garage,” she said. “Then I saw a dark truck drive down the street super slow.”

Sinclair felt a pang of disappointment. He was, no doubt, the one she’d seen driving the truck.

“Anything else?”

She hunched a shoulder. “About ten minutes later, I saw a van parked in front of my house.”

Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “Did it have a logo?”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall what she’d seen. “Yeah, as a matter of fact it did. It looked like three white bullets.” She grimaced. “Or maybe it was rockets.”

Sinclair tried to imagine the logo, something teasing at the edge of his mind.

Three rockets.

He’d seen it before. But where?

“Missiles,” he abruptly breathed, adrenaline exploding through him.

“Do you know who took Mira?” Tanya asked.

“I’m about to find out,” he said, already calculating how long it would take him to drive to the SAU military base just across the border in Wyoming.

Tanya lifted a hand to wipe a tear that was trickling down her cheek.

“How?”

“I have my ways,” he promised. “Take care of Sinclair. Mira’s going to want him.”

“Bring her home,” Tanya said in a whisper. “Please.”

A grim smile touched his lips. “You have my word.”





Chapter 3


Mira Reese tapped on the keyboard, doing her best to ignore the two large men who leaned over her.

It’d been the same thing for the past two weeks.

She would be taken from the small room in the old barracks where she was locked each night and brought to the headquarters of the SAU Air Force Base.

When she’d arrived here two weeks ago, she’d been terrified. The soldiers who’d burst into her house and smacked her hard enough to cause a bloody nose had threatened endless torture if she didn’t give them the information that they wanted.

Thankfully, she’d had the drive to the local SAU building to pick up the Director, and then another hour drive north to consider her limited options. By the time they’d reached the base, she’d managed to convince the bastards that she was on their side. And that her search for information on the Verona Clinic, and who’d actually been responsible for the virus, had been a necessary part of her job with the CDC.

Of course, they hadn’t agreed to let her go.

Instead, they’d demanded that she continue her search for the doctor beneath their watchful eyes. Mira hadn’t minded. If they were anxious to discover the doctor, that meant her suspicion that Dr. Lowman was somehow connected to the original outbreak was right.

It also gave her the opportunity to use the SAU’s powerful network.

During the near collapse of society when the virus had swept around the world, the internet had been severely limited. The government claimed that they didn’t have the manpower to devote to repairing unnecessary infrastructure. Mira, however, suspected that they were intent on limiting the amount of information that could be shared.

After all, there was nothing more dangerous than the truth.

Clicking to a new screen, Mira wrinkled her nose at the hot breath that puffed against the back of her neck as George Markham, the head of the Denver division of the SAU, released an impatient curse. A large, ex-military man with short, iron-gray hair and a large body that was trending toward flab, he’d been the first one to interrogate her at the SAU headquarters.

It was the second man, however, who’d taken the lead since they’d arrived at the air base. Chief Master Sergeant Donaldson wore the crisp uniform of a man still in service. His head was shaved, and his lean face deeply tanned as if he spent a great deal of time outside. She guessed his age to be in his mid-fifties, and while he technically appeared to be beneath Markham in rank, he was clearly in charge.

“Well?” Markham demanded for the hundredth time in the past two hours.

Mira didn’t bother to glance around. She wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate her captors. They would slice her throat without a second thought. But she was convinced that she only had a few hours until she could make her escape.

“I’m close,” she promised.

“You said that three days ago,” Markham snapped.

She had, of course. She’d been playing a dangerous game. One that could end in disaster if she couldn’t keep the men distracted while she concluded her hidden search.

“It takes time to break through so many layers of security,” she smoothly lied. “Which is why I’m so convinced that the Apate Clinic must be hiding something important.” She deliberately paused. “Or someone important.”

“Like you were convinced that the Morgan Hospital had a Dr. Lowman on their staff,” Markham snapped. “And that Scotland Research facility had the original notes from the Verona Clinic.”