On the Edge by Catherine Vale Page A

the white stucco buildings baking in the sun. Cars honked, and the driver maneuvered the Jeep to the curb, wedging it between a truck and a small white car.
    “Where are we?”
    The driver turned off the engine. “This is the Consulate. They’ll know if there’s a reward. And probably find ya a way to get home.”
    “For the hundredth time, I am home. You’re taking me away from where I want to be.”
    “And like I said, ya got some kind of mental issue. Not sure if they can help with that, but they’ll get ya home.”
    The man to her right, who had yet to speak, opened the passenger door, blocking her from getting out until he stood on the sidewalk. The driver came around, holding out his hand.
    “Come on, you’re safe. Nothing gonna hurt ya here.”
    She ignored his hand, and climbed out of the Jeep, wincing as she put weight on her ankle. At least it wasn’t broken, just badly bruised. She thought about running away from them and took a tentative step. Her ankle held her weight, but it hurt. They’d be on her after only a few steps.
    It could be worse; they could have dropped her off somewhere else, or at the airport. With no money and her backpack long gone, she’d have been stranded. At least at the Consulate she might be able to contact Daniel, have him wire her money for a vehicle to get her back to the jungle.
    “Alright. Maybe you’re right.” She walked toward the building. “You said there’s a reward for me? If you bring me back?”
    “Might be. Someone back home might be missin’ ya, you know? They might of put up some money.” The glint in his eyes told her he was more interested in any possible reward than he was in her safety.
    He held the door, and she walked into the cool interior. The artificial smell of the air in the building struck her as noxious. She’d lost track of how long she’d been in the jungle, but it had been long enough that the smells of civilization made her gag.
    “Here. Talk to this lady.” The man pulled her toward a woman sitting behind a small reception desk.
    “Ma’am. This here’s that missing Museum lady. The one’s gone missing in the jungle. We brung her back.”
    The woman looked at Addison in alarm, then at the two men on either side of her.
    “Do you have an appointment?” Her eyes traveled over Addison, and she was suddenly aware of her torn and dirty clothes, her dirty hair, her sweat-streaked face.
    “Obviously not. I’ve been…” Kidnapped? If she told them these men had kidnapped her from the shifters, she’d have to admit she was living with the clans. And to do that would put Griffin and his people in danger. No one would believe she would willingly live with shifters.
    “I was working in the ruins in the jungle. These men abducted me, brought me here against my will.”
    The man stiffened. “Here, that’s not what this is about. We rescued you from them savages. Tell this lady who you are, that you’re missing from your Museum.”
    “I’m Dr. Addison James, with the New York Natural History Museum. I’m working a dig, an excavation.”
    “You were alone in the jungle. There wasn’t no other folk at the ruins. How’s that?” The man scowled down at her, clearly unwilling to give up his rescue story.
    “My partner, Dr. Daniel Parrish, returned to the Museum with a rare specimen. I stayed behind to continue working. Listen, if you could call him, he’ll tell you I’m not missing.”
    “She is. There’s got to be some kind of reward.”
    The woman behind the desk followed this exchange with wide eyes. Without a word, she rose and disappeared through a door behind her.
    She returned a moment later, followed by a tall man in a dark suit. He looked over the group, wrinkling his nose as he drew closer.
    “I’m Manuel Cervantes. And you are?” He inclined his head at Addison.
    “Dr. Addison James, New York Museum of Natural History.” She extended her hand. Mr. Cervantes raised an elegant eyebrow before cautiously extending