“Ms. Cray?” the first man asked in a rough voice that spoke of a pack-a-day habit. My nose wrinkled at the strong odor of cigarettes wafting in through the door.
“Yes…” I replied, drawing the word out in a questioning lilt as I eyed him with suspicion.
“I’m Special Agent Johnson and this is my partner, Special Agent Holbrook,” he said, inclining his head minutely to the man standing just behind him.
“You got any I.D. to go with those spiffy titles?”
With a frown, Agent Johnson withdrew a leather bifold from his pocket and presented his credentials. Leaning forward into the gap in the door, I peered at the gleaming badge, not really sure what I was looking at.
Hell, Loki would know what to look for as much as I do.
Ascertaining that it at least didn’t appear to have come out of a Cracker Jack box, I nodded at the agent as if I had some inkling of what I was looking at.
“I guess you gentlemen had better come in,” I said, stepping back and opening the door.
Pack-a-day was the oldest of the pair, though his age was hard to pin down. A smooth face with only a small cluster of wrinkles around his bright blue eyes would have made me peg him as early forties, but the stark white hair combed back from his face made it a harder guess. He bore the wide and stocky frame of an ex-football player, though it looked as if there was a little softness about his middle.
To say that Agent Holbrook was drop dead gorgeous would be an understatement. He was a dark haired Adonis with wind flushed cheeks.
Forest green eyes studied me with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. Narrower through the shoulders than his partner, he was tall and lean, the tailored cut of his long coat accentuating his narrow waist. It was the look in his eyes, however, that brought a sudden rush of heat to my middle, awakening the slumbering wolf, causing her to unfurl inside me. It was a rare thing for her to be roused so soon after a run, and I found my interest piqued by the reaction he inspired.
I figured it was a safe assumption that I wasn’t the only one interested when his gaze tracked down to the neckline of my robe with no attempt at subtlety. Glancing down, I realized that I was affording the two agents a rather generous view as the front of my bathrobe gaped open.
Seeing as I spend a good portion of my time naked as I shift between woman and wolf, I’m not easy to embarrass, but the unabashedly appreciative look in Agent Holbrook’s eyes brought a flush of pink to my cheeks. Even as I cleared my throat and pinned him with a glare that let him know he had been busted, my blush spread all the way down my chest in response to the smirk that curved the edges of his mouth.
“How can I help you, Agent?” I asked Johnson, tightening the belt on my robe and ignoring the smile that continued to curve his partner’s lips.
“I understand that you are familiar with Mr. Samson Reed?” Johnson asked.
All traces of blossoming arousal fled in the blink of an eye as my hand moved instinctively to cover my stomach. The puckered scars marring the skin of my belly flared white hot with remembered agony while my mouth went suddenly dry.
“You could say that,” I managed to choke out, my mouth filled with the sour taste of bile.
“Mr. Reed escaped from White Sands Supernatural Penitentiary two days ago. We came here to tell you that…” Johnson continued to explain, but his words faded into static as the world grew fuzzy around the edges of my vision, the floor slanting sharply to the right.
A large hand clutching my elbow in a strong grip brought me swimming back up to conscious thought, and I found Agent Holbrook standing close. Heat radiated from him along with the woody scent of his cologne, and, beneath that, something sweet like caramel or dark molasses. Electricity crackled in the air between us, sending jolts of sensation up my arm where his fingers touched me.
“…had better sit down, Ms. Cray,” he was saying in a voice that flowed smooth and rich like sun warmed honey, the hint of a southern accent lending another layer of richness to his voice.
Unable to find my voice through the twisted knot of fear lodged in the back of my throat, I nodded and let him steer me into the living room where he deposited me on the couch. Loki let out an irritated meow at being disturbed before sliding off the back of the sofa and slinking off into the safety of my bedroom.
My brain buzzed with a dozen nonsensical thoughts, distracting me from the deluge of panic that was cresting like a tidal wave just on the edge of my consciousness. If I acknowledged my rising fear, it would surely drown me in seconds. In an effort to protect me from the mounting horror, my brain chose to focus on something a little more interesting.