Jeremiah Black rubbed a hand over his face in exhaustion, ignoring the conversation going on around him. He really didn’t give a shit how much the little prick in the corner wanted to jerk off to the image of one of the prisoners they had in Virginia. Or how another one of the guards thought they should take turns beating a powerful lion shifter they’d captured the month before, because he refused to bow down to anyone no matter what they did to him. Then, there were the rumors of the General’s death and Ebony’s takeover. Speculation on how it happened, and what to expect now. He didn’t have to wonder what happened. He knew. He was there when RARE infiltrated the facility he was stationed at. He’d heard the gun go off. Heard Ebony was the one who pulled the trigger. He’d also seen Jaxson, a RARE team member, tear out the General’s throat. Yeah, he knew it all, but right now he didn’t give a fuck about any of it.
His mind was consumed with thoughts of his beautiful mate, who was currently in the hospital at the White River Wolves compound in a deep sleep, from what he’d been told. What the hell did that mean, anyway? Was it similar to a coma? Angel told him Rikki wasn’t in any pain. That’s what mattered. But… what had happened to her? The thought of his strong, courageous mate, fighting for her life while he was working for the bastard who hurt her in the first place had him wanting to rip out the heart of every soldier in the room with him. The General’s men, now Ebony’s.
Gritting his teeth, Jeremiah glanced around the small area that he and five other guards were crammed into. They each had a cot, a tiny dresser with two drawers to keep their clothes in, and that was it. They shared a bathroom that was just big enough to walk in, turn around, and sit your ass on the toilet. Or take two steps to the right and climb in the shower. Lucky for him, none of the other men seemed to think cleanliness was important, so he never had to fight for a shower. His shifter genes protested the stench that filled the room he had to sleep in with the filthy bastards, though. And they thought shifters were the animals.
“Yo, Jer, what do you think of that little hottie in Virginia? You know, the feisty one with the long red hair.”
What Jeremiah thought was that he wanted to punch the little fucker in the face. That poor little fox was hurting, no matter how sassy she might be to them. And the betrayal in her gaze when she looked at him with those large amber eyes was like a punch in the gut every single time he saw her. He knew she couldn’t understand why a shifter would work for someone like the General. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell her the real reason he was there. All he could do was treat her the same way he did all of the other prisoners he came into contact with. With indifference. If he acted as if he gave a damn about any of them, even in the slightest, the other guards would pounce on him. He couldn’t afford to have that happen. He’d worked his way too deep into the organization to have his position second guessed by anyone. So, with a shrug, he said, “She’s okay. Not really my type.”
“Not your type? Shit, man, she’s fine!”
“Exactly what is your type?” Jerret Kyle, one of the other guards, asked. “I’ve worked with you for months now, but as far as I know, you haven’t dipped your dick into any pussy since I’ve known you. What, you prefer guys or something?”
Jeremiah stood and walked over to him, staring down at him, his face a hard, cold mask. Jerret was a cruel son of a bitch. From what Jeremiah had been able to find out, he’d been with the General’s organization for close to three years now. He loved to mess with the prisoners — shifters and psychics both; he didn’t care. They were all beneath him in his opinion. “Do I look like I prefer guys?” he growled, getting right up in the other man’s face. Hell, he didn’t care what anyone’s sexual preference was. He had a female cousin who was bisexual, and he fully supported her. Would kick anyone’s ass who spoke out against her. But he couldn’t let these bastards know that.
Jerret’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. “No, but since you aren’t out there getting laid, I figured there must be something wrong with ya.”
“What’s it to you who I fuck?” Jeremiah questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Jerret was quiet for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. Clapping Jeremiah on the shoulder, he said, “Just giving you shit, man. Thought maybe something had to be wrong with ya if you didn’t find that little fox sexy as hell like the rest of us.”
Shaking his head in disgust, Jeremiah turned and walked back to his cot. “Naw, just prefer blondes.” A lie. He preferred a dark-haired beauty with deep brown eyes and full, pouty lips, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Not me,” the little punk, Jimmy Wilson, said with a wide grin. “I love the redheads. They like to fight ya. Turns me the fuck on.” He’d been working for the General for just over a year now, and Jeremiah hated the prick just as much as the first day he met him, if not more. He was a vile bastard who made it his mission to make all of the prisoners’ lives miserable, both male and female. He wanted to beat the hell out of all of the men and have sex with the women. He didn’t get to the female prisoners; the General wouldn’t have allowed it because he lacked any special psychic abilities. However, the males were a different story. Neither the General, nor anyone working for him, gave a shit who roughed them up. It made Jeremiah sick. He never personally laid a hand on them, but the others didn’t realize it. He took great care in making sure it looked as if he was a part of everything that went on. He didn’t have a choice. If they found out how deep undercover he was, so deep he’d even cut himself off from his FBI handler, he would be stuck in a cage and on the other side of those fists.
Jeremiah ignored him, glancing at his watch. “My shift starts soon. I’m gonna take a walk first.” It was either that or knock the fucker out. Knowing he couldn’t get by with that right now, Jeremiah strode from the room, calling back, “Meet ya up front in fifteen, Kyle.” He was working with Jerret that night, which was a good thing. He’d probably kill Jimmy if he had to be around him much longer.
Shoving a hand through his thick, brown hair, Jeremiah let his thoughts turn back to the one person in this world that he cared about right now. His mate. Rikki. He felt his fangs punch through his gums at the thought of his woman lying in a hospital bed, oblivious to what was going on around her. He wanted to be with her, not getting ready to patrol the grounds of the facility he was currently stationed in. The General was dead. What the hell was he still doing there? But even as he asked himself the question, Jeremiah knew the answer. The General’s death didn’t mean the end to the chaos his organization caused. With his daughter, Ebony, taking over, it actually caused a lot more issues than in the beginning. She was more evil than her father, if that were possible. He was going to have a bigger war on his hands than he’d anticipated. One he couldn’t fight sitting at his mate’s side in the hospital, even if everything in him was telling him that was where he should be right now.
A low growl left his throat, but he forced his fangs to recede, reining in his emotions. He had a mission to accomplish. He needed to focus. Everything he was doing was for Rikki. She was his, and he would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant he had to be away from her a little while longer.
Gritting his teeth, Jeremiah nodded to one of the scientists he passed in the hall. Yes, he would bide his time… for now.