Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

got sorted in the end. As they walked up the hill toward the gate to the fort, Alaric met Alexios‟s gaze over the top of Michelle‟s head and grinned.
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    Alaric. The mighty and terrible, most powerful, could-melt-your-bones-with-a-glance Alaric. Grinning like a youngling.
     
    Poseidon himself would find it hard to believe.

Chapter 11
    Grace kicked the office chair so hard it flew through the air and landed on its side, which accomplished nothing. The loud crashing noise didn‟t help her headache any, and it sure as heck did nothing to diminish her frustration.
     
    No word from Quinn or Jack. No money had magically appeared in the rapidly dwindling bank account to help her feed or train the new recruits, only about half of whom showed any promise.
     
    Another attack last night, this time in Miami. This one blamed on panther shifters who‟d gone rogue and clawed and killed at least a dozen humans. But, as the smarmy news anchor had perkily announced, the humans were suspected to be members of a huge drug cartel.
     
    Translation: nobody cared. Rah-rah for the shifters. P Ops would make a token effort to find them, but nobody would dig too deeply into the reasons and discover that this attack was another piece of the puzzle. The vampires were far too smart to test their new shifter-enthrallment techniques by sending their “experiments” after random humans. They were wiping out the dregs of society. People nobody in law enforcement would miss.
     
    The average Miami resident would probably be indifferent. Happy, even, that some trick of fate had happened to put drug dealers in the path of the crazed killers. After all, it hadn‟t happened to “good people,” so who had time to care?
     
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    “At this rate, we‟ll all be penned up like good little sheep waiting for the slaughter before anybody catches on that we need to do something,” Grace shouted, kicking the chair again. A muffled noise caught her attention and she caught Sam leaning against the doorway, chuckling. He wore a plaid flannel shirt and ancient blue jeans, as usual, and his white hair looked like he hadn‟t combed it in a week. Same old Sam.
     
    “Shouting at the TV again, are we? Does it do any good? And if that chair needs the hell beat out of it, let me know. I‟m in,” he drawled.
     
    She glared at him, too furious to be embarrassed. “Another one, Sam. Like the attack on that Harley biker bar out West last week by the bear shifters. Another so-called rogue attack that nobody gives a damn about, because they‟re practicing their technique on the outlaws.”
     
    He straightened, all humor vanishing from his face. In that instant he underwent a drastic shift from affable good old boy to the man who‟d led teams into and out of almost certain death, over and over, during his Special Forces tenure.
     
    “When? Where? Tell me,” he demanded.
     
    She nodded her head toward the newscast playing out on her computer screen, and he reached for the mouse and turned up the volume. Together they watched as an earnest-looking young reporter cornered a big, casually dressed man who was stepping out of the front door of a building. The label in the corner of the screen told them it was the Big Cypress National Preserve Ranger Station.
     
    “Can we have a moment of your time?”
     
    The man lifted his head and, obviously scanning the camera crew, shrugged.
    “Apparently so.”
     
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    The eager-beaver reporter, probably no older than twenty-two, pushed his microphone almost into the man‟s face. “As the alpha of the Big Cypress Panther Shifter Pride, what do you have to say to those who accuse your pride members of being behind the vicious attack in Miami during the night, Mr. Ethan?”
     
    Something in the man‟s eyes changed, and Grace inhaled sharply. The reporter was a fool. That man was a predator and he was very much on edge. Maybe a hairsbreadth away from ripping out Junior‟s throat.
     
    Sam nodded, making a humming sound in his throat that she‟d come to associate with approval. “He‟s a pro, Grace. Watch him. Be a good man to have on our side, this Ethan.”
     
    It was true. As she watched, Ethan‟s face smoothed into an expression of calm composure, his eyes giving away nothing. Anyone watching would think they‟d imagined that