He didn’t shift. The bear roared and thrashed and fought, but he held it back. He felt it pushing at his skin, felt his bones aching to change, and he held it. Held it. Held it.
The wolf stopped. She sat back on her haunches, her tongue lolling out.
Then she shifted back. Siren stood before him, naked and breathing hard. And she was smiling like he’d never seen before.
“You did well,” she said, sauntering toward him.
Reed looked at his hands. They were human. They were trembling, but human.
“I held it.”
“That’s real progress,” she said, pulling on her clothes. “Your nervous system’s threshold for fear is much higher.”
He sank to his knees in the grass from sheer exhaustion.
“Are we done?”
She walked toward him and knelt beside him, stroking his back.
“You can’t take any more today. I shouldn’t have pushed you this far.”
“If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have made this much progress.”
“Probably not. You’re much stronger than you look, bright eyes,” she said, stroking his cheek. “You still have issues with gunshots. We’ll probably have to work on that eventually.”
She helped him up, and they walked back to the van where his clothes were waiting. He got dressed and sat down on one of the camping chairs in the shade outside. He was so exhausted he could barely move. Siren brought him a bottle of water and ran her hands through his shaggy hair.
“I’m going to make dinner. Rest.”
He chugged down the water. His body felt hollowed out, every muscle ached. His heart was pounding in his head. It felt like he’d run a marathon and then fought a boxing match and then run another marathon.
Siren was moving around inside the van, making dinner. He drained the bottle of water and then a second that she must have brought him without him noticing. Then there was a plate of chicken quesadillas in his lap.
“This is good,” he said, scarfing it down.
Siren was sitting on the other side of the campfire she must have built, eating her own quesadilla in a camp chair. He looked at her in the fading light. She was wearing the shorts she slept in and a tank top. Her shoulder holster and weapon under her arm. She was absolutely gorgeous. This woman had spent all day beating him up, terrorizing him, and pushing him past his limits. And he worshipped her for it.
“Thank you,” he said between bites. “For pushing me. For not giving up on me.”
“You did really well today, Reed. I wish I could say it was the end.” She took another bite of her food. “But you have a lot more control than you did this morning.”
Chapter
Sixteen
Siren drovethe van across the Missouri River just after noon. The heavy, brown river moved slowly between the wooded banks. Council Bluffs fell away in the rearview, Omaha spreading out along the water.
They drove over the cobblestone streets of the Old Market district. The original brick warehouses had been converted into coffee shops, art galleries, and lofts.
When they reached downtown, the corporate headquarters for insurance companies and railroads rose around them. She found Diana’s firm in a six-story professional complex and parked the van in a garage two blocks away.
They were dressed as Sarah and Michael Phillips. Siren in her linen trousers and flowery cardigan, gun strapped to her ankle above her sensible sandals. Reed in khakis and a polo shirt, looking exactly like a high school chemistry teacher on vacation.
In the lobby, they checked the business directory, locating Reyes Forensic Accounting in Suite 412. The two of them then took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
The reception area for Diana’s firm was small but cozy, with artistic black and white photographs of the Omaha landscape decorating the walls. A young woman sat behind the reception desk, typing on her computer.
She smiled in greeting. “Can I help you?”
