Page 5 of Covert Affections (Shadow Agents/PSI-Ops #5)

Chapter Five

Jesse

Jesse stood under the stream of water, letting it run over him as his mind wandered to his run-in with Samuel. The man had been right. Not that he’d ever admit as much to the prick. The cold water had helped to calm his beast slightly, and it chased away the smell of soda.

The water couldn't wash away the burning itch that radiated from his injection site, spreading like poison through his veins. Each drop of water hitting his skin felt like tiny needles, his heightened senses making everything too sharp, too intense.

Jesse pressed his forehead against the cool tile, trying to ground himself as another wave of dizziness hit.

The serum was getting worse with each dose, leaving him fighting his own body, his own instincts.

His cat side prowled restlessly beneath his skin, pushing to break free.

It wasn't just the usual post-injection irritability anymore.

Something felt fundamentally wrong, like his body was trying to reject more than just the serum.

Don’t question the process.

Obey orders.

Keep your head down.

The chant played over and over in his head as if it were a broken record.

Bizarrely, it wasn’t his internal voice he heard saying it.

It was someone else’s voice. A male. One he didn’t know.

Even stranger was how the words had started coming to him shortly after his transfer to the new facility—when the nightmares had started.

A flash of memory hit him—men in black fatigues, faces blurred but familiar somehow, moving in perfect sync during what looked like a training exercise.

The scene felt real, felt right, but it couldn't be.

He'd never served with a unit like that.

Had he? The memory slipped away like water through his fingers, leaving behind only a deep sense of loss he couldn't explain.

Maybe The Corporation had built the facility on cursed land or buried bodies in the foundation. With them, anything was possible.

“I need a break.”

The week away from it all would do him good and give him a rest from the injections. Maybe his system could do its version of detoxing while he was enjoying his much-needed vacation.

Tipping his head back, Jesse let the water wash over his face, stealing away his worries about the serum and its ill effects on his system.

The only thing the water couldn’t wash away was the sting of Samuel being right.

Damn. He really hated that the man knew more about Jesse’s shifter side and how to calm it than Jesse did.

“He’s also a dick,” he muttered into the stream of water as if it were a friendly ear he was bending to listen to him whine.

Faint laughter found its way to him, and he paused, unsure he’d heard it right. It sounded too young to be from anyone who worked there. He rubbed his face, a little concerned he’d somehow fallen asleep standing up and was dreaming.

Nope.

He was awake.

He cocked his head to the side and listened deeply for sounds of laughter. None came. His beast stirred, as if it were thinking of causing him problems once more. Fucking Samuel had also been correct when he’d pointed out Jesse’s issues with controlling his temper.

It did make him weak.

He’d never been great at caging his cat side, but he’d been better about it—before the fucking injections. Now, it was all Jesse could do to keep from lashing out at everyone around him.

"Fuck," Jesse whispered as he tilted his head back, letting the water wash away his stress and worry.

His muscles trembled with barely contained tension, the urge to shift growing stronger by the second.

The cat wanted out, wanted to run, to hunt, to find.

.. something. Someone? The pull was getting harder to ignore.

Thankfully, Jesse was alone for his mini-freakout session.

Nick had gotten called away, so his plans to babysit Jesse in the locker room were foiled.

The last thing Jesse needed was witnesses to whatever the hell was happening to him.

The Corporation monitored everything and watched everyone.

One sign of weakness, one slip that he wasn't handling the serum well, and he'd end up in one of those restricted labs he wasn't supposed to know about.

Finishing up, Jesse shut off the water and grabbed his towel from the hook on the wall.

He dried off quickly, movements sharp and agitated as the serum continued working through his system.

His hands trembled slightly as he wrapped the towel around his waist before heading from the shower room to the locker room area.

The cold air hit his damp skin, raising goosebumps despite his naturally elevated body temperature.

His locker was undone and standing wide open.

He paused, sure he'd shut it after undressing and grabbing a towel.

Yet there it was, standing wide open, his lock set aside on the wooden bench where he always placed it.

A chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the air temperature.

Something felt off. Wrong. His cat side bristled, sensing an intrusion into its territory.

"I really need a solid night's sleep," he muttered, trying to rationalize the unsettling feeling as he grabbed his bag and pulled out a change of clothing.

He could smell traces of everyone who'd passed through recently—the sharp chemical tang of the serum lingering on other shifters who'd had their injections, the stale coffee on the breath of the security staff, the nervous sweat of the medical personnel.

And something else. Something that didn't belong.

Jesse tensed, sniffing the air more carefully.

There was another scent here, one he couldn't quite place.

It was faint, almost completely masked by the overwhelming smell of industrial cleaners, but it tugged at something deep in his mind.

His cat side surged forward, suddenly alert and interested in a way that made no sense.

Jesse gripped his open locker door to the point the metal began to bend.

He released it quickly and managed to regain control of his cat side.

Whatever they’d done to the serum this week was doing a number on him.

If he didn’t get his ass in gear and get out of the facility soon, he’d lose control and end up in mountain lion form.

That would set off more than one alarm.

Jesse dressed quickly. He wore a pair of jeans, his biker boots, a dark T-shirt, and his motorcycle jacket. Jesse glanced at the top shelf of his locker and froze. While nothing appeared to be out of order or missing, he could smell the scent of another. Someone had been in his locker.

Not just anyone—Peters.

Jesse's lip curled as he caught the guard's distinctive odor near his locker. His cat side pushed harder, claws threatening to emerge as rage and territorial instinct surged through him. The serum in his system made it harder to control the shift, his vision sharpening painfully as his pupils began to change. There was no good reason Peters would have been in Jesse’s locker. Whatever he’d been doing there could only lead to trouble.

"Son of a bitch."

His skin felt too tight, the injection site burning as his agitation grew. That strange scent from before seemed to be pulling him, urging him to follow. It led toward the restricted areas—the ones he wasn't supposed to know about, wasn't supposed to go near.

"Fuck," he murmured, the calming effect the shower gave him completely gone. Something primal and urgent told him he needed to follow that scent. Needed to understand what was happening in this facility before it was too late.

Jesse headed out of the locker room and caught faint notes of Samuel and Benat in the air. Why was their scent mixing with Peters’?

The mysterious scent grew stronger, winding through the hallways like an invisible thread.

His cat side pushed to the surface rapidly, guiding him as he tracked it.

The serum heightened everything—the sterile glare of the lights, the hum of machinery behind the walls, the sharp chemical undertones that permeated everything.

His head throbbed, but something deeper than conscious thought drove him forward.

Before realizing it, he was down the main hall and headed toward the security office.

The restricted wing loomed ahead, its heavy doors and biometric scanners a constant reminder of the secrets The Corporation kept.

Jesse had spent months avoiding this area, fighting the strange pull it seemed to have on him.

Now that same pull twisted through him, urgent and impossible to ignore.

Turning the corner, one of the directors of the facility ran right into him. The impact sent a jolt through Jesse's hypersensitive skin, his cat side instantly alert and defensive.

Reaching out, Jesse caught the man, steadying him. "Sorry."

The man wore black tactical fatigues. The kind typically reserved for field ops, not upper-level brass. The material was too crisp, too clean, as if it hadn’t seen real use. His name patch had S. Murlick stitched on it.

"Culbertson, good," the man said, his tone carrying an edge that set Jesse's instincts screaming.

Jesse didn't know this department head very well.

The man had only been at the facility a few short weeks.

While the man's expression and tone of voice said he wasn't upset with their collision, Jesse's cat-shifter side detected something else.

A predator. One that wasn't as settled as it appeared to be.

The man wasn't human, yet Jesse couldn't place what type of supernatural he was.

He smelled off.

Like a mix of more than one supernatural and roadkill.

The smell left Jesse struggling to keep from sneezing and backing away. His cat side wanted nothing to do with the abomination before him. The strange scent he'd been following seemed to grow stronger, weaving around them both like invisible smoke.

"You're off-duty?" the man asked, his gaze raking over Jesse slowly, assessing him with an intensity that felt wrong.

"I am. I'm headed out on vacation." Jesse fought to keep his voice steady as another wave of dizziness hit him. The injection site burned fiercely, as if responding to the department head's presence.

"Right. Well, consider yourself back on duty and your vacation canceled," Murlick stated, his authority absolute despite the wrongness Jesse sensed in him.

"Sir?" The word came out rougher than intended as Jesse's throat tightened. That other scent was getting stronger—honey and melon mixed with something he couldn't place. Something that pulled at memories he couldn't quite grasp.

"I need you to handle something," Murlick said, the smell of roadkill increasing until it nearly masked everything else.

Jesse nearly covered his nose and mouth to avoid taking the scent in anymore.

He was about to when he caught hints of that other scent again—the one with slight notes of honey and melon.

Something that didn't go hand in hand with the facility.

Something that made his cat side suddenly alert and protective in a way he didn't understand.

"Did you hear me?" asked the director, impatience creeping into his tone.

"W-what?" returned Jesse, realizing then that the man had been talking to him still. The serum was making it difficult to focus, hard to separate reality from the strange images that kept flashing through his mind—men in black fatigues, training exercises, missions he couldn't remember taking.

Murlick’s expression tightened. "You're not close with Eyres, are you? Not like that other one...what's his name?"

"Vergara?" supplied Jesse, fighting to stay present in the conversation while his senses screamed at him to follow that other scent, to find its source before it was too late. Too late for what, he didn't know.

"Yeah. That one."

Jesse snorted, latching onto his familiar animosity toward Samuel as an anchor against the chaos in his mind. "It's safe to say I am anything *but* close with Eyres."

"Can you take him?" asked Murlick, his eyes glinting with something that looked too much like hunger.

"I'm sorry, what?" Jesse was positive he'd heard the man wrong. The serum they'd given him had clearly messed with his hearing. Yet something cold settled in his gut, a primal recognition of the moment everything changed.

"If it came down to your life or his, could you kill him?" Murlick asked, the stench of wrongness coming from him in waves, nearly drowning out that other scent that still pulled at Jesse's instincts.

Jesse nearly backed away, but instead, held his ground. “Yes.”

He wasn’t sure he actually could take Samuel after the guy had handed him his ass an hour ago, but he kept that bit to himself.

“Good.” He looked Jesse over slowly. “Change into tactical gear and meet me back here.”

“Sir, can I ask what this is about?” questioned Jesse.

A glint of satisfaction flickered in his gaze as his mouth pulled into a cruel smile.

“Yes. A kill order has been issued for Eyres, and you’re going to be the man to carry that order out.

” With that, he stepped back into his office, leaving Jesse standing there in the darkened hallway, the man’s words echoing in his mind.

As if on autopilot, Jesse pivoted on his heels and marched back to the locker room, his fingers traced the spot where his ring should have been, that nagging sense of wrongness growing stronger. Each step he took brought with it flashes that made no sense—from events that never happened.

He saw himself laughing with Samuel as they sat around a dinner table that looked a lot like ones you’d see in a movie. The kind that had a full, happy family gathered for a meal, sharing food and laughter. He put a hand on the door frame of the locker room to steady himself.

“Get a fucking grip,” he hissed in a hushed whisper, trying to will himself into control and submission.

He returned to his locker and made quick work of getting dressed in his standard-issue uniform. He was about to head for the armory but paused when he stepped into the hallway once more, his attention drawn to the restricted area.

Being ordered to kill Samuel should have left Jesse feeling as if he’d won the lotto.

He'd fantasized about taking Samuel down often enough. Instead, his chest tightened with apprehension. He hated the bastard, didn’t he?

Killing him shouldn’t make him take pause—yet it did.

But these fragments of memory kept surfacing, showing him impossible things.

Things that contradicted everything he thought he knew about their relationship.

“None of it is real,” he said through clenched teeth, needing to hear the words. The problem was, the flashes felt like real memories. And if they were right, he didn’t hate Samuel quite as much as he thought.