"Says ya," Declan throws an arm around me. "We're a right motley crew, aren't we, luv?"
Sam growls.
"I don't think Sam likes you calling me 'luv.'" With a finger and thumb I snag Declan's sleeve and lift his arm away from me and let it drop.
"No, wolfie? Ya gonna challenge me for the lady?"
I hold up a finger before Sam can answer. "Let me clarify. I don't like you calling me that. So stop it. Understand?"
"Right," still grinning, Declan backs away. "Clear as glass."
Laurie chuckles.
I glare at him for good measure.
"So, Layne," Parker asks. "How did you and Sam meet?
"So, Layne," Parker asks. "How did you and Sam meet?
I turn to the grey-haired shifter. "He broke into my lab, stole my research, and kidnapped me."
Laurie chokes on his drink.
"Then I shot him with a tranq dart and left him on the side of the road. But Sam showed up right when Data-X was going to kill me, and saved my life." I shrug. "We've been inseparable ever since."
"I see," Parker says.
Sam clears his throat. "As much as I'm enjoying this little soiree, Nash and I need to talk privately." He holds up his laptop case. "I have something to show him. Something personal."
"Go on with ya," Declan waves a hand. He's grabbed up the bottle sitting near Parker and is topping up Laurie's drink. Whatever the clear liquid is, it smells like turpentine.
I shake my head. These guys are nuts.
"We can talk back here," Nash says, jerking his head towards a hall leading to the other end of the trailer.
"Layne." Sam holds out his hand to me.
"Are you sure?" I mouth and he nods. When I take his hand, he squeezes it.
Nash leads us to a back room-a bedroom. Sam doesn't hesitate, just sits down and opens his laptop.
"This is the footage." He turns the screen towards Nash, hands him a pair of headphones and then gets up and comes back to me, tugging me into the hall. "Nash needs to see this alone."
I nod, and let Sam pull me into his arms. I don't need to see or hear to know what's on screen: footage of Nash and his mate.
Sam holds me for a few minutes. We left the door open and every so often I glance at Nash's face. His expression is blank, but his eyes blaze bright.
Finally he removes the headphones. "Where is she?"
"I don't know. All's I know is what you saw. I didn't watch it," Sam clarifies. "I skipped past most of it, but at the end it's clear-you marked her."
Nash sits so still for a second I wonder if he's breathing.
"I didn't remember," he starts, and clears his throat. "I'd forgotten her. I made myself forget. But somehow I always knew."
"She's your mate," Sam says. "She's alive. Her file says she escaped. I'll help you find her, but first we stop Smyth."
Nash's gaze comes back into focus. "What do you need from me?"
"I don't know where he is. The program file said you came to Data-X from the military. I need a way to track Smyth. I don't have any leads. I was hoping you could tell me something that will give me an idea of his trail outside of Data-X."
"Can you tell us of how you first met Smyth?" I ask. "It was after you left Special Forces, right?"
Nash gets another faraway look. "I was … desperate. I had PTSD from Afghanistan and a lion who loved to kill. I needed help. Smyth was an army doctor. He told me he'd help me."
"He told me that too," I say. "I ended up working with him, until Sam came and showed me the truth."
Nash nods.
"I went in thinking he was going to do some kind of reconditioning on me. There were tests-endurance tests, pain threshold tests. I didn't mind it all, but I was still a fucking mess. I started asking more questions.
"Smyth gave the wrong answers. I realized they weren't trying to help soldiers recover from the war, they were experimenting to make super soldiers. They wanted to duplicate shifter regeneration powers and apply it to humans. I took it upon myself to search the research facility. That's when I found the other test subjects. Most were dying from whatever experiments Smyth was doing on them. Some of them were young-barely teenagers. My lion came out and I went after Smyth."
He clenched his jaw. "That's when I became a prisoner, too. Unable to help anyone." He looked out the window. "Unable to help… her."
"She got away on her own. She's free, but she's not safe. None of us are. Not until we take down Smyth," Sam says.
The mad light comes back to Nash's eyes. "Then we take down Smyth," he says grimly.
Sam nods. "You help me find him, and I promise I'll find your mate."
S
am
"COME ON," I grab Layne's hand as we leave Nash's house. Laurie, Declan, and Parker are still drinking the nasty smelling liquor Declan scrounged up from who-knows-where. I almost feel sorry for Nash, and then I remember how his claws felt in my chest.
A little drunken Irish singing might be good for the lion. He can always throw them out.
"Where are we going?" Layne asks, tromping beside me. I lead her to a bike-an old Triumph Declan's been working on. He made me swear on my liver I'd get it back to him in one piece.
Wavering strains of "All for Me Grog" reach us. I doubt Declan will notice if we're a wee bit late.
"A motorcycle? Really?" Layne lights up.
I hand her a helmet. "Have you ever ridden on one?"
"No, but I've always wanted to."
"Hop on, sweetheart." When she's settled, I pull her arms around me tight. "You all right?"
"Yes! Shouldn't you be wearing a helmet?"