Graham hated to fly. Eric liked to send him places in the cargo plane because of this, part of Eric’s battle of wills with Graham, the head Lupine in his Shiftertown.

“Thanks,” Bowman said. “Keep in touch.”

He put down the phone and turned to find Cristian two feet away. “This Eric will send help?” Cristian asked.

Bowman nodded, his neck stiff. “Some. An expert on Faerie. I’ve met the guy. He’s weird, but he knows a lot.”

“Good. Let them get on with what they do. And we will get on with what we do. Which is find out everything we can, by interrogation when necessary.”

Bowman scowled at him. “Turner’s mine.”

Cristian studied him for a moment, then gave him a nod. “Yours first. Then I want a go at him. If he is still alive after you are finished.”

Bowman said nothing, only pushed past Cristian—who moved before Bowman could touch him—and out of the house. For once, he and the crazy Romanian Lupine agreed on one thing: Get Kenzie back, by any means necessary.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The mists rolled in and rolled back again. When they cleared, Turner was standing a few yards away.

Kenzie was on her feet, shifting as she rose. She landed in her wolf form and charged, intent on killing her enemy. Turner watched her come without worry and held up his hand.

Kenzie hit him full force, and they went down in a tangle. Her Collar went off at the same time as the Taser in his hand.

A cross between a yelp and a scream left Kenzie’s throat. Pain flashed around her neck and down her spine, then through every nerve in her body. Her fur crackled, her eyes burned, and a high-pitched eeeeeeeeeeee tore through her ears.

She managed to roll away and landed on her belly a few feet away, panting hard, her Collar shocking her. Turner climbed to his feet, still holding the Taser.

Brigid hadn’t moved. Not because she didn’t want to, Kenzie realized, but because she couldn’t. She must be under the influence of the spell she’d told Kenzie about. Brigid struggled to take a step, her booted foot inching in the dirt and then stopping. Her dark eyes burned with frustration and hatred.

“You know you can’t touch me,” Turner said to Brigid, sounding far too calm. “I learned a trick from a half Fae,” he told Kenzie. “I have taken some of her blood”—he nodded at Brigid—“which I used in a binding spell. I have some of yours now, and some of your fur.” He held up his hand, showing Kenzie a tuft of wolf hair between his fingertips. “Thank you. Though Tasers coupled with Collars are excellent at stopping Shifters.”

Kenzie snarled. She longed to leap up and tear his face off, but the double shock had robbed her of strength. Her Collar continued to snap curls of electricity through her—it knew her aggression and wanted to stop her. She’d arrogantly told Bowman she’d be among the last to have her Collar removed, taking the pain so others could be freed first. Way to go, Kenzie.

Turner waved a hand at her. “Shift back. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Don’t,” Brigid said. Her voice was strained, teeth clenched.

Kenzie had no intention of shifting, but she felt her fur receding, her limbs changing shape against her wishes. That scared her more than anything.

Kenzie came to her feet, naked and breathing hard. She had enough strength of will to snatch up Brigid’s cloak from the ground and wrap it around her. She never minded being nude after shifting in front of male Shifters, but the way Turner gazed at her with frank interest made her skin crawl. Kenzie pulled the cloak around her, finding it surprisingly warm for fabric so thin.

“You have no need to be afraid of me, Kenzie,” Turner said, his blue eyes innocent behind his glasses. “My work can benefit you. Can benefit everyone, really. The Fae were trying to make a race of skilled fighters to conquer their enemies, and it worked. It cut their casualty rates in half. Think what a contribution you can make to national security.”

Kenzie struggled to speak. Her Collar had calmed down, but the pain remained. “Fae casualties were cut in half, you mean. Shifters still died. Now you want Shifters for national security? Like joining the military and so forth? We tried. They won’t let us.”

Turner shook his head. “Not Shifters necessarily. Beasts stronger than Shifters, which the military can control. I am very close to making a breakthrough.”

“You mean that poor thing you let loose near the roadhouse? It was strong, sure, but didn’t last very long.”

Turner roved his cold gaze over her. “That ‘poor thing’ nearly killed you all. I was conducting an experiment that night, admittedly, to see how well my creation stood up to the fighting prowess of Shifters. You handled yourself very well, I was pleased to see.”

“You were there?” Kenzie adjusted the cloak. She and Bowman had been climbing each other just before the thing attacked. The thought that he’d been watching was repulsive. “I thought you hired a lackey to drive the truck.”

“I did. I can’t drive a rig. But I rode along, and yes, I watched.” His smile made her know he’d seen everything she and Bowman had done. “I wanted to see how my baby performed. Doesn’t a mother wish to watch her child’s first steps?”

Brigid threw him a look of haughty disgust. “You do not know the first thing about being a mother.”

“Yes, women can be so superior about children,” Turner said. “My mother never was—if she had been, maybe my father would have been nicer to her. Not that I knew anything about that until after he died. My father was a complete bastard.”