Page 55

He glared at Carter. “Do you want to alert those damn wolves to our location?”

Carter huffed and tucked his hands in his armpits. Bishop suppressed a shudder of distaste. He knew how bad the other man smelled even after their frigid bath in the river. He also knew that Carter wouldn’t be washing his hands before he ate.

If we can find anything.

This mission had gone about as far south as he was willing to go. Their clothes hadn’t fully dried before darkness fell, they were out of food, and he was out of patience. He was having serious second thoughts about capturing this human. She had led them in circles, chasing their tails.

How in the hell had she run circles around them? Every damn time we picked up her trail, it led back to the same spot where we started.

He rubbed his raw hands together, wincing at the cuts on them. They had found where she had been hiding on the cliff. Hell, they had probably been standing right on top of her!

The thought that they had been so close and clueless burned at his pride. He had expected to catch her within a few hours of her escaping. The storm hadn’t helped. Still, she was a damn human! It shouldn’t be this difficult. His fox should have been able to track her.

Their lone break had come when he caught the scent of blood where she had run into the vines. That had eventually led them to the river. He didn’t know if she had been crazy enough to swim across or had doubled back. The scent had ended at the water, but with the water as high as it was and cold, he couldn’t imagine a human female being crazy enough to go in it. Hell, he wouldn’t have made it if not for Carter grabbing him when the current sucked him under.

“Screw this. Let’s head back,” he growled, rising.

Carter looked up at him with a surprised expression. “What about the boss? What’s she going to say when we come back empty-handed again?”

“We aren’t going to tell her,” he snapped.

“But-but, she told us to not come back without one,” Carter stuttered.

He sneered at the other man and waved his hand. “Do you want to freeze your balls off?”

“Naw. I like my balls,” Carter mumbled, lowering his hands to cup his groin.

Another shudder of distaste swept through Bishop. “We’ll find another way to get the boss some humans—ways that don’t involve freezing to death.”

“I like that idea,” Carter eagerly agreed.

Bishop gritted his teeth and prayed the journey back to civilization went a lot better than their mission had so far. He needed warmth, food, and sleep so he could plan his next move. Maybe Lorne Timberwolf could be of use—if he wasn’t dead.

The hoot of an owl above them drew his attention. He sneered at the creature who was watching them from a nearby branch. He wondered if owl tasted anything like a chicken. His stomach rumbled with hunger and his eyes narrowed.

The owl, possibly sensing it was in peril, took off into the night. His lips curled into a vicious smile. Roasted pork was beginning to sound good right now, so he knew it was definitely time to get the hell back to civilization.

Anchorage, Alaska

* * *

“Sir, the report you requested.”

Eric reached out and took the folder his lieutenant was holding out. With a nod, he dismissed the man and returned to his seat. After the Nova Principia was compromised, Eric and his crew had retreated to their northern complex. The move, while always a possibility, had still been an inconvenience and costly. Neither of which sat well with him. The humans were already an expensive expenditure when he considered the losses he had incurred in human resources, equipment, and political connections.

He opened the report and read through it. As he suspected, Isabella Wyland didn’t appreciate having her toes stepped on. He had suspected she was the one behind the sudden interest in his business.

That still didn’t explain how she knew about the satellite.

He turned to the page on Talon Nightsky. The Director of the SBSI was a shrewd shifter. The documentation said he was a Snow Leopard, but there was something off about the man—and that irritated Eric. He didn’t like it when his gut warned him that not everything was as it appeared.

Turning the page, he studied the last set of satellite images that had been taken. He spread them out on his desk and stood back. His eyes moved from the first in the series to the last. The frown creasing his brow deepened as he compared the track of the human female with the map he had on the far wall.

Comprehension dawned and a curse slipped from his lips as he rounded his desk and placed his finger on the last spot he had pinned in blue and the white dot that indicated the cave where the humans had been evacuated from a few months ago.

“Son-of-a-shifter,” he cursed.

He twisted, returning to his desk, and reached for the satellite phone. Staring at the map, he waited for his team leader out in the field to answer. His impatience built when there was no answer.