Rogue (Book 2) (The Omega Group) Read online

  Rogue

  The Omega Group Series

  Book 2

  Andrea Domanski

  www.AndreaDomanski.com

  Copyright © 2014 by Andrea Domanski

  Cover Art Copyright © 2014 by Rebecca Sterling

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Send all inquiries to www.AndreaDomanski.com

  First Printing, 2014

  Web Info

  www.AndreaDomanski.com

  www.Facebook.com/AndreaDomanskiAuthor

  www.Amazon.com/Author/AndreaDomanski

  https://twitter.com/andrea_domanski

  The Omega Group Series

  Crossfire (Book 1)

  Greco (Book 1.5)

  Rogue (Book 2)

  Pandora (Book 3)

  Chaos (Book 4)

  Table of Contents

  Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

  Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

  Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11

  Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

  Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

  Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23

  Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27

  Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31

  Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34 / Chapter 35

  Chapter 36 / Chapter 37 / Chapter 38 / Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  A Note From The Author

  About the Author

  Prologue

  1400 Years Ago

  Ahiga, chief of the Havasupai tribe, leaned against the jagged rock wall of the cave they were using to treat their wounded. It was the desert’s cold season, leaving them with no better place. The stench of blood hung in the air as he watched his once mighty warriors writhe on the cold floor. Their cries, he believed, were not for the pain they felt, but rather for the sadness. They had failed, and because of that their tribe was finished.

  Two full moons had passed since the Yavapai tribe first attacked them. Although they had always been aggressive, angering the other Pai tribes with their petty grievances, Ahiga never thought they would start a war. The Yavapai were blessed with fertile lands and an abundance of animals. Their lives should have been full and peaceful, yet they wanted more.

  Ahiga’s tribe, like all others in the area, spent the cold winters living in the caves at the rim of the enormous canyon. During the warm season, when the sun’s rays reached down into the depths, they resided far below, surrounded by lush gardens and waterfalls fed by an underground spring.

  It was these gardens that the Yavapai coveted.

  Despite their inferior numbers, the Havasupai fought well to protect their land. Ahiga was proud of his warriors, though he feared the battle was over. Many lives had already been lost, and those that remained were weakened by injury and hunger. If their healer, Nayavu, could not find a way to strengthen their bodies and spirits, Ahiga would have no option but to surrender.

  “Cheveyo,” Ahiga called out to one of the children who had been collecting healing herbs and plants for the wounded. “Take me to Nayavu.”

  The young boy, still many seasons from manhood, led Ahiga past the wounded men to the far corner of the cave. He dropped his satchel of herbs beside a small fire burning a strange yellow color and, with a nod to his chief, returned to his duties.

  Nayavu was crouched low with his eyes closed, chanting another prayer to Tochapa, their god of good. This prayer asked for strength, speed, and healing to be bestowed upon the Havasupai warriors. When he finished, he placed a small bowl on his lap and filled it with leaves, roots, and twigs from the boy’s satchel. After crushing them together with a small stone, he added water, nestled the bowl deep into the yellow embers of the fire, and stood to face his chief.

  “Nayavu, I fear we are nearing our end. Have you a potion yet?” the chief asked.

  “Yes.” Nayavu wore a smile as he reached two fingers into a small sheepskin pouch that hung around his neck. He pulled out two tiny objects and held them up to Ahiga. “Earlier, when the sun was in its highest position, my spirit guides sent me a vision. They showed me a pack of wolves surrounded by many coyotes. The coyotes attacked as one terrible group and it looked as though the wolves would be slaughtered. But they were not. Instead, though injured, they fought with all their strength, and the coyotes were no match for them. When I awoke, I found these lying next to me. One is the tooth, the other the claw, of a wolf.”

  Ahiga felt hope blossom inside as the meaning of Nayavu’s vision became clear. Tochapa would endow his warriors with the strength of wolves and allow them to defeat their enemy.

  When the healer dropped the items into the bowl, the smoke from the fire began to swirl around itself instead of rising. The yellow flames threw sparks so plentiful and bright that the chief shielded his eyes and took several steps back. With one final explosion of sparks, the flames shrank down into orange embers and the smoke stilled before it resumed its path to the roof of the cave.

  Nayavu’s hands shook as he grabbed the bowl and handed it to his chief. Ahiga touched his fingers to the clay expecting to feel the heat of fire, but instead felt only a slight warmth. The potion inside swirled as the smoke had done only a moment before.

  “Feed this to all of our warriors. Quickly.” Ahiga watched as the healer tilted the bowl to every man’s lips. Once the injured were treated, Nayavu brought the potion to all of the others, saving the last drops for Ahiga.

  That night was a restless one. Sleep would not come, even to those exhausted by battle. Some complained of pain, others of strange thoughts racing so quickly as to make them lose their balance. Still others remained perfectly quiet, staring into the brightness of the almost-full moon from the mouth of the cave.

  When the sun finally began its ascent, Ahiga gathered all of his uninjured warriors. “Tochapa has blessed us. Let this be the day we prevail against the Yavapai.”

  While war cries echoed throughout the canyon, the Havasupai ran toward their enemy with spears raised. When they arrived at the small group of caves they knew the Yavapai tribe used as their gathering grounds, they found the spot empty. Smoke trailed lazily from the remains of several fires, but the warriors were gone. Ahiga’s heart clenched in his chest as he realized his mistake. He’d taken every warrior that was well enough away from their home, leaving the injured and the women and children alone. “We must get back and protect our people.”

  He’d taken but two strides when he heard it—the whooshing sound only airborne spears can make. “Raise your shields!” Before the words were out of his mouth, the Havasupai warriors were gathering in a tight circle, backs to the center, crouched behind worn wooden shields.

  The Yavapai had been lying in wait, hidden behind rocks and in the darkest shadows created by the large caves. The sharpened stone-tipped spears came at them from all directions, most clattering uselessly off their shields. Then came the Yavapai warriors. If it had not been his warriors caught in this trap, Ahiga would have been impressed with their strategy. They had them surrounded.

  The familiarity of the situation overwhelmed Ahiga as he thought back to Nayavu’s vision. Was this that battle? Without wasting another moment, he led his warriors in a mighty war cry and they rushed their attackers.

  The sensation of the change was almost lost on Ahiga as he felt the first Yavapai club strike his shoulder. The pain from the blow radiated outward until it encompassed his entire chest. He reached for t
he knife sheathed at his waist only to have it fall from the fur-covered paw that was once his hand.

  Swiveling his head from side to side, the chief saw the Yavapai tribe’s expressions change from triumph to bewilderment and finally to horror as his men changed. His mighty warriors were now ferocious wolves.

  Acting on pure instinct, Ahiga pounced, powerful jaws tearing at the Yavapai’s throat. The unfamiliar taste of flesh covered his tongue, and before the first bloodied body hit the ground, the chief added two more. His tribe—now his pack—ravaged the unsuspecting Yavapai until rivers of their blood flowed down the canyon walls.

  The battle was over before the sun reached halfway to its apex. Surveying his surroundings, Ahiga’s heart swelled with pride. Resting on his haunches, he raised his eyes toward the heavens and howled his thanks to Tochapa.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  “Can I get you something to drink, sir?” The stewardess looked impeccable—her hair, makeup, and uniform all perfect.

  “No, thank you.” Carter Mockta turned his attention back to the endless blue sky outside his window, an errant lock of black hair escaping his ponytail to hang in front of his eye. Flying in the luxurious Bombardier BD-700 Global Express was definitely one of the best perks of being an Omega Group member, but the comfort that the supple leather seats afforded was lost on him. They were three hours into their four-hour flight from Jacksonville to the Grand Canyon, and Carter was running out of excuses for his lack of participation with the rest of his team.

  When Myrine, the leader of the Omega Group, assigned Carter to this mission, she’d inadvertently put him in an untenable situation. There was no way he could investigate the strange happenings around the canyon without running into his family. And running into his family could very well put an end to his investigation. It’ll definitely be an interesting reunion.

  “Well, that’s a first.” Han, his closest friend, eyed him from across the aisle.

  “What?”

  “The stewardess. She’s been flirting with you since we took off and you’ve barely even given her the time of day. Definitely not the Carter I know.”

  He was right, of course. Carter was what people called a ladies man. His Native American complexion and dark, brooding eyes—not to mention his tall, muscular build—tended to attract attention from the opposite sex. Normally, he was more than happy to oblige, keeping a string of women anxiously waiting for a telephone call from him that would never come. He was fine giving women a second or even third date, but anything beyond that was strictly off limits. He knew all too well the damage a relationship could inflict.

  “I’m pretty sure they prefer to be called flight attendants now.”

  Han just smiled and resumed reading. Although he appeared to be engrossed in his book, Carter knew he was waiting for him to start the inevitable conversation about his family. He was about to do just that when he was interrupted by Jackie, the last member of their team.

  “We’ve got a call from Director Finley.” She put the phone on speaker and sat down across the small table from Han. “We’re all present, sir.”

  Robert Finley, director of the CIA, spoke without preamble. “Myrine tells me you’re on your way to the Grand Canyon. When you get there, there’s somebody I need you to speak to.”

  The quizzical looks on both Han and Jackie’s faces expressed Carter’s own feelings perfectly. Although Director Finley had started the Omega Group, in the twelve years since, he rarely got involved in the day-to-day operations of a mission. He provided cleanup services as necessary, paved the way for them to get whatever backup they might need from the military, and oversaw the preternatural prison facility nicknamed “Finley’s Basement.” But he didn’t give orders during an operation and never called the operatives.

  “DARPA’s got a top secret MDS research facility located on the north side of the canyon,” Director Finley continued. “It’s headed up by General Eryk Persaud. If anything weird is happening in the area, he’ll be able to lend a hand.”

  Carter sent a questioning look to his team. When all he got in return were shrugs, he asked, “I’m not familiar with MDS, sir. What are they researching?”

  “It stands for Metabolically Dominant Soldier. Think ‘Captain America’ with high-tech gadgets.”

  “You’re serious? They’ve got a super soldier program at the Grand Canyon? Maybe that’s what’s causing the anomalies in the area.”

  “That was my thought at first, too, but General Persaud assures me there’s nothing going on at his facility that would cause auras, and nothing that would affect civilians. He’s willing to open his doors to you to prove it. His guys will be waiting for you at the airport to take you in. Good luck.” A click on the line signified that the conversation was over.

  Han shook his head, lips quirked in a disbelieving grin. “Captain America? Really? I thought that stuff was just in the movies.”

  Jackie laughed. “This coming from the guy who can walk through walls.”

  “Touché.” Han turned to Carter. “Are you ready for this?”

  With a smirk, Carter said, “As I’ll ever be.”

  Chapter 2

  When they exited the plane, Carter was hit with a blistering wave of heat. He couldn’t understand why people always said a dry heat was better. An oven has dry heat, and the meat that came out of one never looked happy about the lack of humidity. Dressed in loose jeans and a button-down shirt, he immediately wished he’d chosen something lighter.

  The stairs leading from the jet wobbled as Carter stepped onto them, and he grabbed the railing to keep from tumbling down to the tarmac. He felt the searing heat of the bullet as it skimmed past his skull and lodged into the fuselage. Shit. “Shooter!” he yelled while unholstering his Glock. He flipped himself over the rail and dropped to the ground, pressing his back to the plane and using the stairs as cover.

  Although in the movies the hero always remained calm and cool while under fire, reality was a completely different story. The fight-or-flight response, ingrained in the DNA of every human being since the dawn of man, took over whether it was welcome or not. Carter could feel his heart rate accelerate as the adrenaline surged through him. He kept his breathing even and his mind focused through sheer force of will, not the fictional nerves of steel Hollywood propagated.

  Scanning the area, he searched for any sign of the shooter. There weren’t many vantage points that would be easily accessible to a man with a rifle. Though the airport was small, with lighter security than most, it was still an airport.

  The movement was so slight that Carter almost missed it through the scaffolding of the stairs. A luggage trolley sat abandoned about a hundred yards off the port wing. Its blue plastic flaps were hanging down over the sides of each of the three bag carts. A crinkle in the plastic of the first cart, about a foot from the top, suddenly disappeared as it returned to its hanging position. Something had been holding it slightly open.

  “Han,” Carter kept his voice as low as possible so as to not alert their attacker. “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear. You got a bead on him yet?”

  “Luggage cart to your left. First cart. Can you draw his fire?”

  “Not a problem.” Han stepped through the doorway of the jet and casually walked down the stairs. When he reached the tarmac, he paused. “Maybe he already left.” As if on cue, a bullet pinged off the metal railing directly behind him. “Guess not. I’ll go left.”

  Carter watched as Han ran, bullets flying through him as though he wasn’t even there. That is one handy little power. Carter always loved being able to shape-shift into a wolf, but Han’s ability to change his molecular structure in order to pass through solid objects and, as in this case, have solid objects pass through him, definitely made some things a lot easier.

  While the shooter was busy targeting Han, undoubtedly questioning his abilities and aim, Carter sprinted to the front of the cart. The rifle’s muzzle protruded a good eight
inches, so he knew exactly where the man holding it was positioned. Without making a sound, he stepped to the back side. Jackie, who’d used Han’s diversion to join him, stood to one side of the cart while he took the other. At Carter’s nod, she yanked back the plastic. The shooting stopped immediately and the rifle fell to the ground as Carter pressed the business end of his Glock to the man’s ear.

  Carter took in every detail of the man crouched in front of him. He was Native American with black hair tied in a ponytail that reached his waist. A crescent-shaped scar trailed down from the corner of his right eye. “So, is this one of those ‘I’ve had a really bad week so I’m going to go shoot some random people’ things? Or were you looking specifically to ruin our day?”

  The shooter’s cold stare, tinged with more than a little hatred, told Carter everything he needed to know. “Who sent you?”

  Still no response.

  “All right, then. Get on the jet.” Carter grabbed the man’s elbow and hauled him from the cart. “Let me tell you how this is going to go down. Normally, I’d ask you a bunch of questions. Of course you wouldn’t answer any of them because you’re too stupid.” The man continued to stare. “Yep, the stupid ones always try the stare. Anyway, like I was saying, we’d go through all the usual paces and get pretty much nowhere. Other than me and my friends here enjoying every minute of kicking your ass.

  “But, because we have people to see and places to go, I’m going to skip all that and send you back east on that jet over there. It’s quite a nice ride actually, other than the new bullet holes messing with the paint job. You’ll pay for that, by the way. So, after spending a four-hour trip in shackles, you’ll be taken to Finley’s Basement. Ever heard of it? No? Don’t worry. No one has—ever. That’s the secret prison where we keep all the super-talented bad guys that are just too much for a regular prison to handle.”