hopped over the coffee table and vaulted over a small club chair to get to the door. He checked the peephole just to be sure, then flashed them all a smile as he opened the door to a male Amara had never seen before.
The man who entered carried an innate grace similar to a shifter, but she knew, just from his aura, he wasn’t an animal. At least not one who ran on four paws. His chestnut brown eyes met hers for a brief moment, and then they flickered to a deep emerald green and the air was sucked from Amara’s lungs like he’d just drank from a straw to pull her life force.
Warlock.
Amara had seen her fair share of wizards, warlocks, witches, and fae, but they didn’t quite have the leashed power this man exuded.
Hammer shook his hand and said, “Thanks for coming, Buzz. We appreciate your help.”
He pounded Lucky on the back and met the eyes of the others in the room. “Happy to assist. Anything for Lucky and Cecelia.”
Flip gave him a head nod, Oliver rose to his feet and shook his hand, and once the newcomer came closer to her, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Buzz, I don’t believe we’ve met?”
She shook her head and cleared the spit from her mouth then extended her hand and gave him a firm shake. “I’m Amara, from Britain. The people we’re tracking are the ones that tortured me.”
Buzz sucked air in through his teeth and whistled out. He tilted his head to the side and examined her. She wasn't sure what to make of it; it wasn’t sexual, but it felt like whatever magic was inside of him was glossing over her animal. “That sucks,” he said and turned, looking for a place to sit. He was tall, but lean, with well defined muscles that pressed against his skinny jeans and Inked Menace t-shirt.
“So anyway, as I was saying,” Hammer started again. “We’re going up into the Catskill Mountain Park. There is a lab outside of Shokan, somewhere near the reservoir on fifty acres of protected land. We’ve got an address. Brick’s contact came through with more information on one of the head scientists.”
Hammer reached into his black leather bag and pulled out a manila envelope then passed it to his left where Flip sat and opened it, pulling out a stack of pictures and papers.
“This is Dunstan Octavius, the Third.” The picture showed a fortyish man with greying hair shorn close to his scalp, thick brows, small, beady eyes, and square-rimmed glasses. He had a small head and soft jaw with small lips.
Amara trembled. She’d never gotten a good look at the leaders’ faces. They’d always worn white suits and masks to prevent airborne infections and diseases from spreading. But she did remember those eyes.
“And this,” Flip said before he sent Dunstan’s photo to the next person in line, “is Betty Pierce.”
Ms. Pierce, Amara noted, was curvy, forties, blonde pin-up girl material. She even had her hair curled like the photos of old – to her shoulders with soft waves held with bobby pins.
“Damn, they look like they belong on a sitcom, not part of an evil science lab,” Oliver said, drawing a few chuckles from a couple brothers. He reached and grabbed the first photo and Amara leaned in to get a better look at one of the monsters responsible for hurting her.
“Bastard,” she whispered as her canines extended in her mouth and she liked the taste of blood from her swollen gums. “I’d like to kill this one,” she said to the room.
“As you wish,” Maura said, stilting any opposition with the raise of one her hands. She sat on Hammer’s left, perched on the arm of the loveseat with one leg dangling, the other planted on the floor.
Buzz was the last to receive the photos and he scanned them for a long moment before he tapped one hard. “This one, I believe, but I could be mistaken, is some kind of witch, so I’d be careful around her.”
“They’re likely to have some muscle around the facility. Probably hired guns, possible ex-military. They’ve got government
The man who entered carried an innate grace similar to a shifter, but she knew, just from his aura, he wasn’t an animal. At least not one who ran on four paws. His chestnut brown eyes met hers for a brief moment, and then they flickered to a deep emerald green and the air was sucked from Amara’s lungs like he’d just drank from a straw to pull her life force.
Warlock.
Amara had seen her fair share of wizards, warlocks, witches, and fae, but they didn’t quite have the leashed power this man exuded.
Hammer shook his hand and said, “Thanks for coming, Buzz. We appreciate your help.”
He pounded Lucky on the back and met the eyes of the others in the room. “Happy to assist. Anything for Lucky and Cecelia.”
Flip gave him a head nod, Oliver rose to his feet and shook his hand, and once the newcomer came closer to her, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Buzz, I don’t believe we’ve met?”
She shook her head and cleared the spit from her mouth then extended her hand and gave him a firm shake. “I’m Amara, from Britain. The people we’re tracking are the ones that tortured me.”
Buzz sucked air in through his teeth and whistled out. He tilted his head to the side and examined her. She wasn't sure what to make of it; it wasn’t sexual, but it felt like whatever magic was inside of him was glossing over her animal. “That sucks,” he said and turned, looking for a place to sit. He was tall, but lean, with well defined muscles that pressed against his skinny jeans and Inked Menace t-shirt.
“So anyway, as I was saying,” Hammer started again. “We’re going up into the Catskill Mountain Park. There is a lab outside of Shokan, somewhere near the reservoir on fifty acres of protected land. We’ve got an address. Brick’s contact came through with more information on one of the head scientists.”
Hammer reached into his black leather bag and pulled out a manila envelope then passed it to his left where Flip sat and opened it, pulling out a stack of pictures and papers.
“This is Dunstan Octavius, the Third.” The picture showed a fortyish man with greying hair shorn close to his scalp, thick brows, small, beady eyes, and square-rimmed glasses. He had a small head and soft jaw with small lips.
Amara trembled. She’d never gotten a good look at the leaders’ faces. They’d always worn white suits and masks to prevent airborne infections and diseases from spreading. But she did remember those eyes.
“And this,” Flip said before he sent Dunstan’s photo to the next person in line, “is Betty Pierce.”
Ms. Pierce, Amara noted, was curvy, forties, blonde pin-up girl material. She even had her hair curled like the photos of old – to her shoulders with soft waves held with bobby pins.
“Damn, they look like they belong on a sitcom, not part of an evil science lab,” Oliver said, drawing a few chuckles from a couple brothers. He reached and grabbed the first photo and Amara leaned in to get a better look at one of the monsters responsible for hurting her.
“Bastard,” she whispered as her canines extended in her mouth and she liked the taste of blood from her swollen gums. “I’d like to kill this one,” she said to the room.
“As you wish,” Maura said, stilting any opposition with the raise of one her hands. She sat on Hammer’s left, perched on the arm of the loveseat with one leg dangling, the other planted on the floor.
Buzz was the last to receive the photos and he scanned them for a long moment before he tapped one hard. “This one, I believe, but I could be mistaken, is some kind of witch, so I’d be careful around her.”
“They’re likely to have some muscle around the facility. Probably hired guns, possible ex-military. They’ve got government
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