He explained how the parents of Lieutenant Patrick Worley, one of the members of Alpha Force, had been killed by silver bullets, about a year apart, theoretically because they were werewolves.
“And in fact, Dr. Worley, senior, was a shifter. After he died, Patrick sold his dad’s veterinary practice to Dr. Melanie Harding—Melanie Harding-Connell now, my cousin-in-law. Drew’s wife.”
It seemed that a cult of shapeshifting groupies used to hang out in Mary Glen hoping to see, and perhaps dispose of, some shapeshifters by shooting them with silver bullets. Maybe some still did.
“That’s an absolute myth, though,” Jason added. “Shapeshifters can be killed just like regular people, by any normal kind of ammunition.”
Sara just rolled her eyes but didn’t comment.
In any event, back then someone had shot Drew’s cover dog, Grunge, who was found injured by Melanie, and, excellent vet that she was, she had saved the dog’s life—while endangering her own as an apparent shapeshifter lover. She’d proven to the town that Grunge was not Drew in shifted form. Drew, of course, never admitted to shapeshifting—especially not to that wacko group of people.
Eventually, after more killings, the perpetrator was finally caught. Things around Mary Glen—and around Ft. Lukman—had settled down to a relatively peaceful existence.
Until now.
“Do you suppose anyone from town could have sabotaged the general’s car?” Sara asked.
“Possibly, but that all happened a while ago. I’d bet instead that it was a member of our new best friends, the USFT.”
“But why?” said Sara.
“When we figure that out,” Jason replied, “we’ll probably know who it was, too.”
Their discussion was enough of a diversion for Sara that the drive to the main street of Mary Glen, Maryland, went quickly.
So shapeshifting was real. Jason certainly sounded convincing.
He had looked even more convincing....
* * *
The car-carrier truck was definitely available for rent. At the right price. At the right high price.
But hell, Jason thought. Uncle Sam would be footing the bill, not him.
And the vehicle, with its black, shining cab in front and car-size, ramplike bed in back—along with a hookup to pull a car onto it—was exactly what he needed.
Sara didn’t seem impressed, but he figured she wasn’t a vehicle aficionado, at least not the way he was. He haggled for a few minutes with the owner of the service station that owned the truck, though, so she’d figure he was a good military guy who wanted to save his employer, and his country, some money.
After more discussion, he locked his beloved Mustang in a relatively secure-looking garage area.
He then returned to the truck, opened the passenger door and took Sara’s hand, helping her climb inside.
He liked touching her warm hand, feeling her firm grip.
Wondering what it might feel like elsewhere on his body...
Hell, what was he thinking? Why had he even taken this woman along with him? It wasn’t in his nature to feel sorry for someone who was apparently suffering in sympathy for a downed friend—in this case, a superior officer.
But he had enjoyed her company. Too much.
“This thing rides amazingly well,” Sara said as they headed back toward Ft. Lukman. Then she paused. “But I really like your Mustang.”
Okay. If he hadn’t already been attracted to her, Jason knew he would be now.
But, he told himself, just because she was beautiful and sexy and fun to tease—and talk to—and he’d inhaled her light and appealing citrus scent on their entire ride to town, and even though she liked his car, that didn’t mean he could let himself get involved with her.
She was an officer—a non-Alpha Force one at that. She seemed completely by the book. Ready to obey all orders of her commanding officer, the injured general.
Horrified that she’d seen Jason shapeshift and now trying to ignore it.
And he was just a military peon.
One who happened to be a shapeshifter, and proud of it.
* * *
Their ride back from Mary Glen wasn’t as enjoyable to Sara as going the other direction.
Surprisingly, she had been enthralled by Jason’s glib tale about the quaint small town and its foibles. Not that she’d liked hearing about murders and strange shapeshifter groupies, but the way Jason had described the amazingly squirrely people had captured her interest.
But on the way back, it seemed as though he’d exhausted his interest in the town—and her.
Even so, their being cooped up in the small cab of that truck hadn’t seemed uncomfortable.
Sara hadn’t let it.
Her verbal encouragement hadn’t spurred Jason to tell more stories about Mary Glen, or even himself. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her about his shapeshifting. Maybe then he would have had to explain what Alpha Force was really about.
And Sara would have enjoyed hearing it. Been relieved, in fact, to learn the secrets.
She had other questions about him, too. Why had he joined the military at all? He didn’t seem enthralled by it. Was it simply to join this team of military shapeshifters?
But he was a noncommissioned officer, and many other members of Alpha Force whom she’d met so far were lieutenants and above. Why was he different?
She didn’t ask. Not now. And when Jason stayed quiet, Sara had started talking about herself—and how she had become General Yarrow’s aide. She’d first gotten her undergraduate degree in political science at Kent State University, where she’d also joined ROTC. She’d always wanted to give back to her country, plus she loved the order of the military. She’d planned early on to make it her career.
She didn’t mention, though, that Alan, her college boyfriend, had thought her nuts and kept trying to get her to do things outside the box. All he did was make her feel uncomfortable.
One night she’d joined Alan at a party and found him drinking, indulging in “recreational” drugs—and making out with another woman. That ended their relationship. And Sara hadn’t been seriously interested in another man since then.
Which was a good thing, especially now. She would never get involved with someone like Jason. She was superior in rank to him. She had the honor of being an aide to a general, and Jason fixed cars.
And, worst of all, he was an amazingly genuine shapeshifter.
His sexy, amusing demeanor didn’t make up for any of that.
“I’d really like to know more about Alpha Force,” she finally finished. “And what makes it tick. General Yarrow is really proud to be the unit’s commanding officer and always hinted broadly at its...unusual characteristics. One thing I do like is the camaraderie among its members.” Although she knew she’d have to remind herself more than once that it was okay to call other members here by their first names instead of their ranks, as she did sometimes in private with her mentor, Greg Yarrow. She’d slipped,