purplish shade like the crushed petals of a violet, with a halo of silver that seemed to pulse with energy. If she had encountered this creature in the wild, it was those eyes she would have focused on, praying that her camera would capture what she saw.
But when those eyes narrowed in rage, Olivia remembered that the alpha was waiting for a response.
"I'm not lying." Somehow, she had recaptured her voice, and the truth poured out of her. "I swear to God. I have no idea who sent me out here. I'm pretty sure they were government, but they refused to identify themselves. All they told me was that they'd kill my family and me if I didn't do what they wanted. Please, don't kill me. I'm telling you the truth."
The alpha's expression shifted only slightly as Olivia spoke, incredulity replacing some of his fury, his mouth tightening. But when he spoke, his question was nothing she would have expected in a thousand years.
"You're a woman?"
Olivia tried not to let the alpha see how stunned she was by the question as she continued to dangle in his grip. Okay, so she wasn't some curvy pinup model, especially in this shapeless tactical suit, but it still should have been pretty obvious.
Then again, maybe not. Her hair and everything but her eyes were covered by a hood. The scent blockers infused through the special material made the suit stiff, obscuring her body. Even her voice was muffled by fear and the constriction of her neck.
The alpha pulled her in closer as if to get a better look.
But when his nostrils flared, and he drew in a deep breath, Olivia realized it wasn't a closer look he wanted—but an opportunity to smell her. She froze, not even daring to breathe.
Apparently, he was satisfied with whatever he detected because he released his grip on her, and she dropped to the ground in a heap.
So he wasn't going to strangle her—but that didn't rule out his whole squash-her-like-a-bug plan. Just to be on the safe side, Olivia scuttled a few feet away from him.
But the alpha had already turned away and was striding purposefully toward the wreckage of the blind. Rummaging through the debris, he picked up items one by one, examining them closely before discarding them into a growing pile.
Only a few things merited his further attention. Her sleeping bag was one; her rations another. But it was the hard black briefcase that seemed to interest him the most.
"What's this?" he demanded, without bothering to turn around and face her.
Olivia knew better than to tell him she didn't know again. "They told me it's the satellite relay equipment. It's locked, though, so I couldn't open it."
The alpha gave a dismissive huff before tearing the secured case open. Pieces of the steel locking mechanism shattered, falling to the ground. Whatever he saw inside made him scowl and toss the case onto the pile with enough force that it splintered.
"You say you have no idea who sent you here." Finally, he turned and looked at her directly.
"It's the truth." The hairs on the back of Olivia's arms stood up, and icy fear returned. There was something about his expression…something horribly wrong.
The alpha slowly walked back to where she was huddled on the ground with her arms wrapped around her knees. This time when he crouched down, he was holding something in his hand.
He held it up in front of her face, so close that all Olivia could make out was a grainy photograph of herself.
"Then explain this to me," he growled, shoving the object into her hand.
Olivia looked down to see that she held a plastic ID card attached to a black lanyard. Printed under her photograph was her name…and the words Homeland Security — Alpha Control Division.
Chapter Three
Olivia J. Fowler.
That's what the block letters on the plastic nametag had spelled out—but Gray was having a hard time connecting such a pretty name to the camo-covered spy standing in front of him.
He'd been tricked by so many details—the blocky cut of her suit, the scent blockers covering every inch of material, even the rage roaring in his ears had managed to drown out the feminine lilt in her voice—but those eyes of hers should have been a dead giveaway.
Two pale hazel orbs, wide and round with long, soft lashes that fluttered as she stared down at the ID in her hand.
Her…she.
The fact that the spy was a woman made no sense. So, Gray did what he