Sentinel: Bravo Bear: (A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (The Agency Book 1) (8 page)

***

The van went over a bump.

The big Agent slammed his head into the ceiling, leaving a slight dent in the metal roofing.

“Ow,” he said slowly, rubbing the top of his head. The thick, slow voice all but confirmed Connor’s hunch that though the brute may be strong, he wasn’t particularly smart. Something had obviously backfired in their serum.

It was time to make his move.

Connor rolled quickly, pulling his legs into his body until his head was toward the interrogator. Planting his hands above his head, he lashed out with both feet, connecting solidly with the Agent’s face. The big man with the impossible strength crumpled under the blow.

Behind him, the interrogator tried to stab Connor with the needle.

Compared to the Extremis-enhanced Agent though, this man moved as slow as molasses. Connor’s hand shot out, grasping his wrist and squeezing, simply crushing it until his fingers opened, neatly dropping the vial into Connor’s hand.

“Hey, what’s going on back there?” The shouted voice came from the front as the man wailed in pain at his mangled wrist.

“Shut up,” Connor muttered and hit the man square in the face with his right hand, eager to ensure that it worked again after the deadening blow he had taken earlier.

The man crumpled.

Excellent.

Turning toward the rear, he saw his first target starting to move. He jumped on the big man and slammed a fist into his face until he lay still. The blows broke one of Connor’s fingers though, depriving him of his full power.

“Dammit,” he swore.

Escape was more important at the moment. The vial had to be delivered into the proper hands. Whatever it may contain, he knew it wasn’t the type of tranquilizer that worked on shifters. That was a deep golden color, closer to opaque than it was translucent. He took the needle, bent the metal around on itself, and jammed it in his pocket.

The rear doors swung open under a booted blow to the center.

Noise assaulted him as the van moved quickly through the city streets. Cars passed on one side, and the van passed vehicles on the other side.

Connor motioned for the truck behind him to stop, then grabbed one of the doors, ripped it off its hinges, and jumped.

He landed on all fours on top of the metal door and proceeded to hold on for dear life as he careened through the road. The truck behind him hadn’t stopped, only slowed down, and the driver slammed on both the horn and brakes as Connor’s side crunched into the front, sending him spinning wildly in another direction. A car swerved to avoid him and the mirror broke off on Connor’s head. He reached up and pulled a shard of glass from where it had impaled itself on the back of his head.

This was not my brightest idea.

A deep horn sounded as he flew across the small strip of empty pavement, marked only by a yellow line, that divided the flow of traffic.

Connor looked up in horror as he slid
under
the trailer being towed by a semi-truck. His brain barely had time to tell him he wasn’t going to make it before the rear set of wheels came close. Connor rolled to pull the side of his body that held the vial away from the wheel, but this had the unfortunate effect of leaving his other leg completely exposed.

The big wheel went up and over it.

He screamed in pain as bone shattered in his shin from the weight of the trailer on his leg. The big rectangular box on wheels tilted back and forth wildly as it settled back on the road, but Connor barely cared.

The vial was safe, but he may not be. His leg would heal, but it was broken and in a bad way just then. Feeling the leg, he gritted through the intense pain, focusing himself as best he could to ignore the waves of agony that were exploded from his leg.

There!

The break was bad; he needed to reset it. If he could. Putting all his pressure just below the break, he pushed the remainder of his leg
away
from his body. The pain was intense, to the point he thought he might black out, but bit by bit, the bone pulled apart until it was straight again.

“Over there!”

He glanced over his shoulder as he slowly began to release the pressure. The healing abilities of a shifter meant it would begin to knit almost immediately. It would be some time before he could walk properly on it, but several minutes and he would at least be able to hobble along.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he had that much time. The black car from earlier had apparently rejoined them and was in front of the van. It had stopped and men had emerged, threading their way through the multitude of cars to get at him.

He had to go, and now.

Using the door as leverage he climbed to his feet—foot, for the time being—unsteadily. The two closest men bunched up as they approached. It was just what Connor had been waiting for. He picked up the door, whirled it around his head, and sent it spinning at the pair like an oversized Frisbee.

The men yelled and dove out of the way, allowing Connor time to hop his way from the street. He went down the first alley he found, leaving the gawking eyes of the stopped residents of the city behind. What was about to happen was not something they should have to see.

It didn’t take long for his pursuers to catch up with him, but as long as they didn’t include the troll of an Agent, he hoped to be okay.

He snatched the lid off a trashcan, holding the round metal object in his right hand, to protect his shattered leg on that side. The continual hopping wasn’t helping, as pain continued to shoot from the leg with every bounce and landing, each motion jolting the break in his bone.

Backing down the alley, he stopped, looking around him. With a nod, he decided to make his stand.

The sudden cessation of his retreat caused the four Agents to slow their approach. By the looks of it, none of them were Extremis-enhanced, but he didn’t know that for sure. Besides, four against one was going to be tough with only one leg. He wouldn’t be able to spin to protect his flanks and rear. The closed confines of the alleyway would help, but only a little.

“Let’s go then,” he taunted. “Come on. Come at the wounded guy.”

One of the four nodded at two others, who proceeded to edge past Connor, staying just out of his reach. He made a mental note to try and eliminate that one first. The others deferred to him. Cut off the head, and the body will die much easier. It was one of the first tactics taught when it came to fighting multiple combatants. Eliminate the most dangerous or the leader first. As far as Connor could tell, there was not one of them that was more dangerous the rest.

The leader pulled out a knife.

He shrugged mentally.
Okay, so that one dies first then.

One man came at him from each side. The leader brandished his knife and approached the side with the shield, while the larger man came at his left side.

Connor waited until they closed in, then feinted against the unarmed man before reversing course and thrusting his shield at the knife-wielding hand.

Both men backed away, but he didn’t make contact with either. His leg was severely limiting him. A third man approached from the middle now, while the fourth hung back, waiting for an opening.

The knife waved back and forth, forcing Connor to match it with his shield, distracting his attention as the others closed in. They knew he was stronger than them, but all they had to do was get him to expose himself for one moment…

The middle attacker lunged, but he went for the shield side, forcing Connor to slam the metal circle down, bending it around the hapless man’s head. The man to his right moved a split second later, jerking Connor’s attention that way as he blocked with his left arm.

Which left his weak side open.

The knife dug deep, coming in
under
the makeshift shield that he had been bringing back up to try and protect himself. Connor roared in pain, his right arm shooting directly out. The trash lid caught the man full in the face, sending him spinning to the ground. The metal disc, now completely warped, fell to the ground as Connor let it go.

He jumped as hard as he could off one leg, his hands grasping the lowest rung of the fire-escape ladder that he had positioned above his head. Pulling up with his core, he freed up his strong leg, which now lashed out and caught the man who had attacked from his left full in the jaw. Bone cracked and the man dropped like a brick.

Connor released his hold and fell to the ground, hissing in agony as his weak leg was jolted from the landing, even if he didn’t absorb any weight on it.

The fourth man looked around, and then took off back down the alleyway.

“Coward,” he muttered, picking up the deformed lid and hurling it after the man with all his strength.

It glanced off the man with a deflecting blow, causing him to stumble and fall, but otherwise not doing any damage. The enemy Agent got up and all but hurled himself out of the alley.

Connor turned down into the alley. Gingerly he put his leg down to test it, but even the slightest touch left him in agony.

“Fuck,” he said, then coughed, the action bringing up a bit of spittle with it. Frowning in distaste he ran the back of his arm across his face.

It came away red.

“What the fuck?” he said aloud as the metallic-iron taste of blood hit his system.

Reaching down, he pulled up his shirt, grunting in pain as the skin screamed its protest at the movement.

The knife wound was still bleeding, red blood soaking his shirt and pants. His frown deepened. The wound must have been deeper than he thought if it hadn’t clotted already. Connor tugged the shirt down over the wound, holding his hand against it to put pressure on it as he moved down the alley toward the road on the far side. The last thing he wanted was to be around when the Extremis Agent regained consciousness and came after him.

As he hopped along, Connor’s focus narrowed to the only important thing. The one thing that would make it all worth it. Agony rocketed up and down the right side of his body, the waves of pain almost blinding him as they assaulted his senses. But his bear came to the front, the more simple, animalistic side taking over, redirecting the pain away from the one little pocket of his mind that contained a thought. A singular purpose that repeated itself over and over and over.

Get back to Maddy!

Madison

The Limp Noodle.

She stood outside the restaurant, the faded yellow sign proclaiming its name proudly on a thirty-year-old sign, big blue block letters clashing garishly with the background. The weathered piece of plastic was cracked in many places. It looked to her eye that it would simply crumble at the slightest touch. A bird flew in from overhead and through a tiny hole in the sign. Shortly thereafter the cries of young sounded as the babies eagerly begged for food.

The windows were dirty, covered with bars on the inside, and mostly obscured by brown curtains that showed every stain contained within them. A black-and-white standard-sized piece of paper was haphazardly taped to the window, proclaiming the store’s hours. Below that, written in what appeared to be window marker, was the menu. She grimaced as she noticed it was written on the inside, and thus many of the letters were facing the wrong way.

Her eyes roamed over the rest of the neighborhood, none of which was in much better condition. Although Maddy had lived in King City her entire life, this wasn’t a part of the city she ventured to very often.

Looks like I wasn’t missing much.

The cab had dropped her off two blocks south of her current location after an uneventful ride. Maddy had made sure to pay cash, a wad of which she had found stowed in the pack her father had put together for her. She would make sure to thank him next time she saw him.

Which might be a while from now. If I ever get out of this blasted city.

How had she gone from enjoying the city, to hating it so quickly? The answer seemed to be that it was because the city had turned against her overnight. A terrifying escape from the only house she had ever known, followed by a huge fight, and then a night tossing and turning as she waited for the faceless enemy to finally catch her was more than enough to convince Maddy that that was the reason. But a part of her resisted that conclusion. It had another idea.

You never fit in here at all.

She shrugged, watching the tide of people walking split and part around her, like a boulder dropped into a fast-running stream. Maddy always seemed to stick out. She was taller than most, bigger than most as well. The city was geared toward those with money and the interest to party. That wasn’t her at all.

It’s true. I don’t fit in here. I never did. This isn’t the place for me.

Maddy sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as she accepted that reality.

If I don’t fit, I may as well get out.

Her feet moved of their own accord, propelling her to the door. She pulled it open and entered into the dimly lit interior. The bars and curtains kept most of the natural light outside, and the interior was only lit by one individual incandescent bulb per table. This caused the pathways between seating areas and any other open space to be draped in shadow.

“Hello, welcome to the Limp Noodle. For one, or are you waiting for somebody?”

Maddy’s eyes flicked to the side where a blonde, near to her age, had appeared as if by magic.

“Just for one,” she said cautiously, trying to figure out what it was about the blonde that was setting off her internal alarms.

“This way please,” the pert young woman replied. “Watch your step, the carpet has a bit of a lip.” She pointed down to where the edge was curled up on itself.

Carpet in a restaurant? That’s got to be dirtier than—

That was it! The restaurant was dingy, dirty, rank, and frankly probably even a little moldy. But this woman—the hostess, or server, or possibly both—was clean, her hair pulled back neatly, with a crisp, clean-pressed yellow uniform on. The yellow was a nightmare, but it was clean and new -looking, which stood out from the background like a warning beacon.

“Here you are,” she said, waving Maddy to a table.

“Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

Maddy shook her head. “No, I think I know what I’m going to have actually.”

“Oh?” The woman’s eyes might have flickered, but if they did, it was only for a split second.

She was good, Maddy decided. Very good.

“Yes, can I have the Spelunker’s Delight please? With just a water, thanks.” She added the last part on, in case anyone else happened to be listening.

Listen to you! You’re already becoming paranoid.

Maddy forced her brain to watch a rerun of their past twenty-four hours, then told it to piss off if it thought she was still paranoid. If five extra words made her sound crazy, then the rest of her life was going to be filled with a lot of insanity.

“Sure thing,” the blonde replied.

She still hadn’t given Maddy her name.

“Would you like to perhaps freshen up while I put your order in?” The blonde pointed to an opening in the rear wall of the restaurant that was recessed several feet, then immediately turned to the left.

“No, I’m okay thanks,” Maddy said, sitting back in her seat.

“If you’re sure,” the woman said.

Her voice was just a bit sharper than it should have been. Maddy looked up, and noticed something in the woman’s eyes. Her blank gaze had tightened, just a little.

Oh. Maybe this is what I’m supposed to do next.

Feeling sheepish, Maddy nodded slowly. “You know, maybe I will. Wouldn’t want to wait until food arrived and then go, now would I?”

The slight glint in the blonde’s brown eyes disappeared, if it had ever been there to begin with. “No, probably not,” she said cheerfully, turning on the spot and walking toward the door on the other wall labeled
Kitchen
.

Maddy waited until she was gone, then grabbed her bag and slid from the seat, pulling the strap over one shoulder. She followed what was revealed to be a small hallway to the left, and then took another right, and then another right. There were two doors, neither of which were marked at the end.

The doors were a deep rich brown, which managed not to clash with the ugly red and gold leaf-swirled wallpaper that lined the hallway. Whoever had chosen that design should have been fired, she thought, trying to pick which door to enter.

One of the doors opened and the blonde appeared, still in her yellow uniform. She nodded sharply at Maddy, all semblance of the cheerful server gone. Her steps were determined and purposeful now, no longer light and airy. She took two steps closer to Maddy, turned to face the wall on Maddy’s left, and pressed with both hands.

The wall clicked, and popped open slightly, enough for the blonde to hook her fingers around it and pull it wide open.

“After you,” she gestured. This time her tone brooked no argument. Maddy, with a cautious glance over her shoulder back down the hallway, disappeared into the hidden door.

Instead, the angry yellow light from the hallway illuminated a metal staircase that led down at a very steep angle. The roof followed so sharply that she was forced to duck as she descended. Behind her, the door clicked shut, cutting off all light and leaving her in the dark.

“Umm,” she said quietly, pausing on the step. She was fairly positive there was two more stairs, and she slowly put her foot down onto it, the metal echoing softly in the darkness.

Light flared from behind her and she turned, squinting against the sharp white glare. It was coming from the woman’s cellphone camera flash. Maddy shrugged. That seemed a little low budget, but at the same time, it was something almost everyone carried on them.

Except for her. Maddy’s had been left behind in the house, along with her father’s, to ensure they couldn’t be tracked. The Agency apparently had government contacts to aid that sort of endeavor. That seemed a little extreme to her, but after what she had now witnessed, Maddy was grateful she hadn’t argued too hard against leaving it behind. What was she missing, social media updates from people she never talked to?

“Keep going.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head and pushing down the last step onto a metal walkway that went straight before turning to the left. The walls closed in on all sides, and as she brushed against one, Maddy was surprised to feel it was damp. She stuck out her hand, fingertips brushing against solid rock.

“The walls are wet,” she commented, though this time she didn’t stop.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re not walking on the ground. There’s a channel for the water below us. Apparently this whole part of town is a low spot for water. When it rains heavily, sometimes there’s an inch or two of water above the walkway.” The blonde’s voice wasn’t conversational, but it wasn’t rude either. She was just sort of stating facts, without wanting to talk to Maddy more than she had to.

Following the light, Maddy took a right as their walkway ended after several minutes of walking, splitting off into a T to the left and right. Almost immediately the stairs began to climb once more. Although she wasn’t aware of how far they had descended, the number of stairs seemed to be far more than the first set. Was she going above ground somehow?

“This is where I leave you,” the blonde said as Maddy arrived at a blank wall. “Press there, and there,” she instructed, shining the light at two circles drawn onto the wall. “Close up after you. Ask for Flint, say Karly let you in.”

Maddy nodded.

The blonde turned and disappeared back down the hallway.

Maddy waited until she was gone, then found the circles via touch—they were actually rings attached flat to the wall—and pressed. The door clicked and slid open with ease.

“Wow.”

The room was completely different than the place she had just left. The restaurant had been rundown and on the verge of needing to be demolished instead of renovated. This place was so swanky she felt that just stepping inside would devalue it. Maddy carefully scraped her feet on the stairwell before stepping inside.

It wasn’t huge, perhaps twenty feet wide by thirty feet long, with the door toward the end of one of the short sides. In the center, facing away from her, was a huge wooden desk with a high-backed office chair sitting next to it. The chair was twisted to the side, revealing it to be empty of an occupant.

Bookcases lined the wall to her left, made of the same rich dark-brown wood as the desk. The shelves were lined with hardcovers, along with a few expensive trinkets, like a gold-crusted pen, and some sort of crystal globe.

She closed the secret door, noting the wood paneling that covered the entire wall, including the door, allowing it to blend seamlessly. Opposite of the bookshelves were several black filing cabinets. The rest of the room beyond the desk had what appeared to be a futon covered in a thick, plush cushion, two recliner chairs, a television, mini fridge and a table.

Big windows with heavy tint occupied the short wall on the opposite side from her. There was a door on the left-hand wall at the far end, right next to the windows. Overhead, bright recessed potlights lit the room.

Cautiously Maddy stepped through the room. She wanted to see what was on the other side of the windows. The tint was extremely heavy, preventing her from seeing through it until her nose was almost pressed against the glass. It took her a moment longer to realize that she needed to look
down
, not out.

She was in an elevated room that overlooked what appeared to be a nightclub. The big rectangular room was dotted with bar stations. Directly below her window was an elevated area spanning the width of the room. It was filled with tables and alcoves to increase privacy.

The VIP area.

The place was empty for the moment, except for what looked like a janitor, or cleaner, pushing a broom in front of him as he swept along. Maddy focused on him again. There was something about him that struck her as odd. He paused at one of the bars for a moment, and it was then, with the height perspective of the bartop added, that she realized what it was.

The man was huge! He had to be a shifter. Was it Connor? Had he beaten her here? She turned and bolted for the door, even as part of her mind rejected that conclusion. It wasn’t the lack of logic in her thoughts that brought her to a screeching halt, however, but something else entirely.

Maddy grabbed the closest thing that she could. It happened to be a small but heavy statue from the desk that occupied the center of the room.

The man who was standing in the door looked at her curiously. “What are you planning to do with that?” he asked.

“Whatever I need to,” she told him fiercely, determined not to give in. “Who are you?”

“My name is Flint,” he said evenly. “You don’t need to do anything,” he said gently. “Not for now. You’re safe.”

She snorted. “You know what, over the past day, I’ve learned a whole lot of things that I wish I hadn’t. Most of all, that I’m not safe.”

Maddy maintained a blustery exterior, hoping that it would cover up her nervousness. Connor had said that Flint was good, that he was safe. She looked at him again. Tall, for a human, though still much shorter than any shifter, he had brown hair kept short and pulled to one side in the current fashion. A neatly trimmed goatee covered his face, complementing the intelligent hazel eyes hiding in his face. He wore a nice suit, not tailored, but well-fitted in a comfortable-looking charcoal-gray color. His entire demeanor screamed “professional.”