“You’re welcome.”
“Hey, Az, by the way, before I go in, did you ever get to catch that television show,
‘The Smurfs?’”
“I hate that stupid cat.”
Obviously, he’d seen it. “Good luck, Ash.” She heard him click off the phone before the sound of the dial tone met her ear. She closed her phone and grinned at her father.
Scott unhooked his seatbelt as the car came to a stop inside the IPAG gates. “Do I want to know?”
Ashlee shook her head. “No. It’s pack politics.”
“Technically, I am pack.”
“You still don’t want to know.”
Scott nodded. “All right, how long will those herbs you took disguise your wolf smell?”
Ashlee looked at her watch. “Another four hours, which should be more than enough time to either subdue the witch with this…” Ashlee pulled a hypodermic needle out of her pocket, which was filled with a combination of Nembutal and Phenobarbital, enough of both to knock out an elephant but not kill the witch, “…or get caught by the armed guards and locked in a cell to be experimented on for the rest of my life.”
“No one is going to lock you up and experiment on you, sweetheart.” Scott raised his shirt to reveal a gun under his sweater.
Ashlee’s mouth dropped open. She sucked in her breath. “Where did you get that?
Did you have that on the plane?”
“No, Cullen slipped it to me in the airport. He thought perhaps we needed more of an insurance policy.”
“Dad, do you even know how to use that thing?”
“I’ve never used one, but I imagine it’s got to be sort of like point and click.”
Ashlee shook her head. Visions of her father shooting someone—or worse, himself—filled her head and she shuddered. “Promise me you won’t use it. You have no experience with it and if, God forbid, you actually have to resort to using the gun, then the plan has failed anyway and the best thing you can do is get yourself out and back to Mom.”
“You are so focused on saving Tristan. You love him so much you’d do anything to save him. Do you think your mother and I love you any less?”
Ashlee never got the chance to answer, as the door to the car opened and a hand reached inside to help her get out of the car. She took the hand and stepped out. The contrast between the air-conditioned car and the heat of the Mexican desert left Ashlee stunned for a moment. She felt someone grab her shoulders to keep her upright in case she should faint.
Ashlee had no intention of swooning or suffering from heatstroke. She blinked rapidly to clear her head and smiled, hoping to create the image of the dumb, spoiled brat, her cover persona for the rest of her time in IPAG.
“Daddy.” Ashlee spun around to look at her father who had stepped out of the car behind her. “How long is this going to take? I want to go to Señor Frog’s tonight.” She stomped her right foot. The nightclub had been a favorite of her friends who had spent spring break in Cancun the year before.
Her father gave her an indulgent look, and Ashlee had to suppress her snicker. If she’d ever really behaved that way, both of her parents would’ve grounded her. “We will, darling, I promise.” He patted her on the back.
Ashlee’s father turned to the man in front of her. He held out his hand. “I’m Dr.
Scott Morrison and this is my darling daughter, Ashlee.” Ashlee felt her shoulders released and she turned to look at the man who shook her father’s hand.
“I’m Kendrick Kane. It’s a pleasure to have you and young Ashlee here with us, Doctor. The Institute has been trying to get a doctor of your caliber interested in helping us develop this place for some time.”
Ashlee sucked in her breath and then covered it with a cough. No one had told her how much Tristan resembled his father. He was the spitting image of the man. All of the Kane men resembled each other, and clearly took after Kendrick, but Tristan held the closest similarity. They had the same shade of brownish, blondish hair with an infusion of red. Steady brown eyes shaped just like her mate’s stared at Scott as he nodded to something her father said. But Kendrick Kane’s eyes were cold, like steel. Even when he was crazed in the hallway, Tristan’s eyes had never looked so calculating.
Ashlee pretended to sneeze and inhaled deeply. He didn’t smell anything like Tristan either. He smelled unnatural, like hospital sterilization tools and cheap cologne. How could he even stand to smell himself? She would never mistake Kendrick for Tristan, not even in a pitch-black room. She ached for the woodsy smell that Tristan carried and silently she begged the universe to not let her fail at her task so she could be close to Tristan’s scent again.
Bad man. He does bad things to his wolf.
Oh yes, bad man. He’d done bad things to his wolf? What did that mean?
Not pack.
No, not pack.
The basic introductions between Kendrick and her father ended and Ashlee took the opportunity to act up again. “Daddy, I thought you said this was a spa?” Should she stomp her foot again or would it be overkill? Ah, what the hell. She stomped.
“I said it might be a spa, darling. We might help to add a spa to it where my patients can relax and vacation after they’ve had a little nip or a tuck. They’ll also be able to partake of this fine institution’s actualization techniques that will help them to become stronger, better people.”
Ashlee put her hands on her hips. “Bored, Dad. And I don’t like to be bored.”
Ashlee’s father turned to Kendrick. “Is there somewhere my daughter can sit and amuse herself while you show me the facility and we talk?”
“My office has a television and an internet connection.”
Ashlee rolled her eyes. “I suppose I could order those new Gucci sandals I’ve been wanting while I wait for you.”
Kendrick extended his arm. “Right this way, Ms. Morrison.”
Ashlee’s father put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Do you have children, Mr. Kane?”
Kendrick shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been married, never had children.”
Evil. I want to bite him and get back to Tristan.
Ashlee shook her head to clear her wolf’s thoughts. Ashlee would love to tear him to small, tiny bits and throw away the pieces. But first she had a witch to capture.
Tristan stood back and watched the Institute burn bright orange and red in the distance. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he knew he should feel something about the destruction of a building he’d once designed and helped to build with his bare hands. But he could barely bring himself to focus on it. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smoke into his lungs. The wood burned first; the insulation would go next. When that happened, it would soak the island in a damp, foul odor they’d never get rid of. Fortunately, it wasn’t his problem.
His brothers were near. He could smell them. They kept their distance, and that was smart. The breeze danced on his skin and he smiled at the sensation. It was nice to have even the smallest bit of relief to the constant burn. He looked down at his skin. There was no physical manifestation of his pain, no burns or rash to indicate the trauma that was going on inside of him. If that was odd, Tristan didn’t know why.
Kill her, Tristan, kill her.
Love to, but she’s not here.
Tired of the constant nagging from his father, Tristan rolled his eyes.
In the distance, he heard a wolf howl. Whose wolf was that? He didn’t sound like his pack. The same howl carried through the night to him again. Tristan sucked in his breath.
He knew that noise. It was his wolf.