Breeds: Megan's Mark Part 2

"Wrong weapon."

Megan turned, her eyes widening as Braden reached to the floorboard between the bucket seats and pulled an automatic, laser-guided rifle forward. "Try this one."

Illegal to the max.

She loved it.

She opened her mind to the calm that reached out from him, centering on it, letting it merge with her own fragile shields and finding it easier than she could have imagined as she tested the weight of the weapon he handed her.

The trim-line, fully automatic laser-guided rifle fired a deadly accurate blast that left a hole in a man the size of the Grand Canyon.

As with the man, even the weapons he owned carried no residue of violence or rage. They were tools, nothing more.

"Dead men don't shoot back, sweetheart," he reminded her as she cast him a gimlet stare.

"Lance will shoot us both." She grimed in delight.

"Yeah, but his bullets don't kill." He grunted. "d.a.m.ned police-issue c.r.a.p. What happened to the good ole days?"

She turned. bracing the rifle's barrel on the window as they sped around the curve into the gully where her own Raider sat. Gunfire blasted against their shields.

"Three o'clock." He yelled out the position. "Give 'em h.e.l.l."

Her finger tightened on the trigger as she further braced the rifle against her shoulder, allowing the weapon to pound against her as she held the trigger back and sliced an arrow of death through the gully wall.

Bullets ricocheted off the shield as they pa.s.sed, a second before she saw the first body fall.

"One down." She let off the trigger, throwing herself against the seat as Braden threw the vehicle into another turn for the second pa.s.s.

"Second one is on the run. There he is." Rather than pulling up the heat seeking radar on the windshield, he pointed to where a shadow moved along a crevice at the top of the wall. "Are you going to wound or wipe?'Kill or capture.

"Wound. I want answers." She pulled her own weapon free. "Let's roll."

Exhilaration pumped through her as the tires bit into the ground and the vehicle shot down the expanse of the gully.

She aimed, watching the laser sight on the weapon carefully.

"Get your eyes off that d.a.m.ned light." Braden snarled. "Use your gut. Let it tell you when to shoot. Those laser guides are for sissies."

She licked her dry lips nervously, took a deep breath and watched the a.s.sailant as he ran. She lifted the weapon a bit higher than the sight called for, letting her senses explode, reaching out to the weapon as her Navajo grandfather had taught her to rather than depending on the sights as her training had.

She fired the first shot, cursing silently as the bullet bounced away harmlessly just above her target's head.

Quickly adjusting, she fired again, twice in rapid succession, and watched with a sense of satisfaction as the sniper shooting at her fell.

"Get ready." The Raider turned, slammed to a stop, and Braden exploded from the vehicle to secure him.

"Darnmit, that was dirty pool." Megan raced out behind him. "I took him down, I get to cuff him."

A roar exploded from Braden's throat as he struggled with the a.s.sailant, who was growling with feral intensity. She stood back in shock, horrified as she watched the curved fangs flash at the side of the a.s.sailant's mouth a second before they sank into Braden's shoulder.

Braden's fist slammed into the side of his head, a furious roar leaving his chest as wicked, long canines were revealed by the animalistic snarl his lips.

They were both Breeds.

Suddenly, the man who had been her co-conspirator in adventure was a primal, unknown threat. Discounting the fact that Braden seemed to know Lance, she couldn't be certain that even her cousin knew the man she faced now.

Shock transfixed her as she backed away, eyes wide, weapon raised. Braden's fist landed in the undefended underbelly of the shooter, taking his breath before Braden landed another hard blow to the face and then delivered an incapacitating strike to the vulnerable neck.

It was powerful enough to knock the other man unconscious. Powerful enough to send a pulse of terror pounding through her as she flipped her mic down. She reactivated he receiver at her ear as she leveled her weapon on Braden. He was powerful enough that the next blow he was drawing back for might very well kill the only thing alive capable of telling her what had happened here.

"Step away from him," she ordered, raising her voice above the animalistic growl rumbling from his chest. It would have been s.e.xy if it didn't sound so d.a.m.ned dangerous. "Now."

She couldn't afford to trust him. She couldn't sense Braden, couldn't read him as she could others. And suddenly, she wasn't so certain that he wasn't the enemy as well.

"Megan? Megan? Is that you? Thank G.o.d!" Lance was screaming in her ear. "We're headed your way in a private chopper, ETA five minutes. What's your situation?"

She ignored his frantic questions.

"I thought you liked to live dangerously?" The canines flashed again as a growl rumbled from Braden's chest and he began to walk toward her.

Megan fired at his feet, causing him to come to a dead stop as he stared back at her in surprise. His brow lifted mockingly.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," she warned him firmly.

He flipped his rnic down.

"Lance, your girl doesn't want to believe I'm one of the 1 good guys. Rea.s.sure her, huh?"

Braden was laughing. The son of a b.i.t.c.h was staring at her and laughing. No anger, no rage, no desire for retaliation against her. "Sometime before she puts a hole in my toe." She aimed higher. "Or somewhere more important."

She felt his amus.e.m.e.nt. It eased around her like a caress as she breathed in deeply, forcing herself to release the edge of calm she had allowed herself to tap into. His calm.

"Do you two think this is fun and games time?" Lance was screaming as the sound of the chopper coming in from the distance could be heard.

"Megan, if you shoot him, I'm going to tan your hide for sure. You'll never get out of booking. Do you hear me? Pull back, dammit."

She kept her gun leveled on him. Fine, Lance trusted him, but did her cousin know who and what they were dealing with here?

"The situation here is contained," she reported. "But I think I'll play it a bit safe and keep Puss in Boots in my sights until you get here."

Braden's eyes narrowed at the nickname as silence filled the receiver, confirming her suspicion that he was indeed a Lion Breed. Coyote fangs held a hard curve; the Lion Breeds' were straighter. He might not be the enemy, but he wasn't exactly safe either.

Lance groaned a second later. "Megan, sweetheart, you are digging yourself into a hole you won't be able to pull yourself out of here."

If the way Cat-boy was looking at her was any indication, she already had. Anger swirled in the golden depths of his eyes as he flipped the mic up and crossed his arms over his impressively broad chest.

She didn't feel the anger though. It wasn't whipping at her head, shredding her nerves. It was contained within him. d.a.m.n, she really could have grown to like him. Maybe.

"You do like to live dangerously then." The rough timbre of his voice sent a chill up her spine. "Next time, I'll let you tangle with the Coyotes and I'll find a nice place to sit and watch."

"Yeah, you do that." She refused to let the gun waver so much as an inch.

She could feel the tension in the air, despite his apparent casual stance. He was waiting on an opening, watching her for a weakness. And she could feel it, feel his readiness consuming her, pounding through her blood.

It was exciting rather than painful. Exhilarating when it should have been terrifying.

He shook his head in mock sadness, the deceptively lazy stance of his powerful body almost deceiving her into relaxing her guard. Jeans loosely molded his powerful thighs, a gray T-shirt hugged his broad chest. He was a walking s.e.x machine and the glitter of his unusual eyes showed her he knew it.

"We were making a great team." He sighed as the sound of the helicopter grew louder. "It's too bad, Megan. I was finally starting to have fun."

He jumped for her. d.a.m.n. No warning, no thought, no impression of what he was going to do before he did it. He just did it.

The gun flew from her hand as she hit the ground, the breath whooshing from her body as his heavier length covered her, heated her.

"Later baby." He nipped her ear before jumping to his feet and racing for his Raider. A second later, dust enveloped her as he sped through the gully and disappeared around a bend. The sound of the helicopter grew closer.

Geez, could this day get much worse?

Washington D.C.

Senator Macken Cooley frowned in displeasure as the cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket, forcing him to take his attention from the statutes of Breed Law he was currently reviewing. The mandates that governed the new species and gave them their special rights were a thorn in his side. They were creatures. They weren't animal or human; they deserved no rights.

As the special, secured cell phone continued to vibrate, he jerked it from his jacket pocket with a grimace that turned to a look of interest when he saw the number on the caller ID.

"Yes?'

"Arness was there," a low voice spoke into the phone.

"Megan Fields has taken out one of the hunters and captured the other."

Braden Arness was becoming the problem he had predicted to the Genetics Council. He smirked at the ire in the voice on the phone, wishing he knew who his contact was; he would love to imagine the expression that went with the voice at the moment. He didn't sound pleased.

"I warned you it wouldn't be so easy." He couldn't help but gloat. "She doesn't hide in that desert because she doesn't know what she's doing."

He had tried to warn the Genetics Council of this when they decided to take the matter out of his hands.

They didn't know the girl or her family as he did. Their special psychic powers would make it practically impossible to ambush one of them, especially Megan Fields. Her empathic abilities were stronger than most, harder to control, but definitely impressive.

"We're turning over two units to you, Senator," the voice rasped.

"They're ex-Navy SEALS and dedicated to our cause. Don't mess up. We won't try to cover you if you're caught. You're on your own."

"And if I succeed? He could feel his c.o.c.k stiffening at the thought of the control he would soon have over the delicate little Megan.

If you succeed, you'll advance to the next position," the voice promised.

"If you fail, you'll die."

He wouldn't fail. And advancement within the Genetics Society was his ultimate goal. He craved the power that would come with the position of a section leader. One of the few that commanded their own units of Coyote soldiers. The spies would come to him then, their lives would be in his control. The thought of that power was almost o.r.g.a.s.mic.

As the phone connection was severed, he allowed antic.i.p.ation to begin building within him.

He didn't see the Breeds as human or as animal; they were creatures. Tools to be used and nothing more. And Megan, by sheer chance, would become no more than a p.a.w.n in his efforts to see the creatures placed once again where they belonged-within captivity.

He would play with Megan a bit first though, see if she was as good as her father had always claimed she was. He could take her out at any time, but he wanted to see her fight. He wanted to see her scared. And he wanted that d.a.m.ned arrogant Jonas Wyatt to come to the realization that the Breeds were nothing compared to the Council. Nothing compared to Senator Macken Cooley. Wyatt was always so arrogant, so sure of himself and his power. Mac would show him once and for all the reality of true power.

Of course, Wyatt would attempt to save Megan. He might even have her placed in Sanctuary. It wouldn't matter. No matter where she went, Mac knew his people could get to her. He wanted Wyatt to know that as well.

And maybe, just maybe before he killed little Megan, he would tell why he had marked her for death. Not that she would remember at first. He knew her. Knew how her powers worked. David Fields, her father, had often confided in Mac as he worried for his daughter and her inability to process the empathic signals she received.

No, she wouldn't remember that night; not until he took her life. He would have her, and then he would kill her. But in the meantime, he could play, just a little bit. The thought had him smiling as he turned back to his research, his dedication renewed, his determination to find a way to destroy those d.a.m.ned Breeds energized. He would succeed.

Chapter Two.

d.a.m.n, she made him hard. It was the first thought that popped into Braden's mind the next morning when Megan stepped into her cousin's office and stared at him with instant suspicion.

She was dressed in tight, s.e.xy jeans tucked into calfhigh boots. A khaki shirt was b.u.t.toned just over the rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s; a wide belt cinched her waist and held the holster for her police-issue Wounder that lay behind her left hip.

A fine film of perspiration dotted her brow as her dark blue eyes gleamed with amus.e.m.e.nt and a spark of menace. She would not be an easy woman to control, but he had already guessed that.

And she was aroused. That was his second thought. It slammed into him as the subtle, unmistakable scent of female heat reached his sensitive nostrils. He sat up straighter at the scent, narrowing his eyes in complete pleasure so he could relish it.

Who had aroused her, though? The p.r.i.c.k to his male pride suddenly had him frowning at her. She lifted her brow, her expression mocking.

He restrained his chuckle, just as he restrained the need to meet her challenge. One thing was for sure: It wouldn't be long before he had those pants off her a.s.s and his c.o.c.k seated snugly in that hot little p.u.s.s.y.

"You wanted to see me?'Megan prompted her cousin with a mocking lift of her brow as she closed the door behind her.

Braden turned his gaze back to Lance, quirking his brow when he caught the other man's less than pleased expression. Lance hadn't been thrilled by the order that came from his superiors, nor by the information Braden had given him on the Coyote's interrogation the night before. Not that much had come of that.

"Take a seat, Megan," Lance sighed.

Slouched back in his chair, his ankle propped on his knee, Braden turned his head once again to watch her walk across the office. She moved like a spring rain, smooth and silky. And d.a.m.n if the smell of her didn't have his mouth watering.

"Okay, so here I am." She stopped at the desk, eyeing the chair beside Braden with no small amount of suspicion and a glint of humor as a smile was quickly controlled. "I don't want to sit next to him. He bites."

She crossed her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, nice, compact little b.r.e.a.s.t.s with just enough fullness to tempt him. Her mock frown informed him that yesterday's little adventure hadn't really angered her. Those winged black brows lowered over ocean blue eyes that looked deep enough to drown a man, and challenged at the same time. He loved a challenge.

"She shoots." He restrained his smile as he turned back to Lance and nodded in her direction. "I needed some sort of defense."

Lance wasn't amused. He wiped his hand over his face and muttered something about "d.a.m.n stubborn women."