NCIS | The Night's Agents: Book 1: Strangers in the Night

Chapter Two

“Poor girl,” Ducky some fifteen minutes later as he bent over the petty officer’s prone form.

            “Duck, need I remind you she was our top suspect in a murder investigation?” Jethro told the aged M.E.

            “No,” the medical examiner said. Carefully, he maneuvered the body until it was out of the car. “The body bag, if you please, Mr. Palmer. Let’s get her home.”

            “Of course, Doctor,” Ducky’s assistant said, bringing over the black bag they used to transport bodies. As they lifted the body, the old Scotsman noticed something in the woman’s wounds glinting as it caught light. “Is that silver?”

            Tony and Ziva exchanged anxious glances. They could heal quickly from any wound unless the weapon was silver or they were bitten by another Shifter. (If they were shot in the heart or head, they died, but reverted back to human form in death.) If what had killed the petty officer was made of silver, then, well, it didn’t look good.

            “Hey!”

            Both Ziva and Tony winced as the blow fell. Ziva rubbed the back of her head and demanded, “What was that for?!”

            Gibbs glared. “I said to head back. Now, are you coming, or should I leave the two of you out for the wolves?”

            Smiling thinly at the irony of that statement, the two Shifters slipped into the black Charger. As they started heading back to the Navy Yard, Ziva said to herself, “She couldn’t have been one of us. We would’ve known.”

            It was true. When one lycanthrope met another, there was an instant connection. Think of it as like calling to like.

            DiNozzo reached over and rested his hand on her thigh, reassuring her. Even though it was only for comfort, he could feel her skin growing warm and it felt as though he’d been punched in the gut.

            Then Ziva floored the accelerator and Tony was thrown back against the seat. Not even his reflexes could protect him from her driving. “Slow down!”

            “Why? I’m only going 50 miles over the speed limit.”

            “That’s exactly why! Ziva, if we get in an accident, God so help me I will personally—”

            “I take it that whatever you have in mind will involve the dark, yes?”

            “Uh, well . . .”

            Ziva smiled triumphantly. “I was right!”

            “Shut up,” Tony muttered, turning on the radio. His beloved Frank Sinatra floated through the car. The Israeli Shifter hit the gas again, and the black Charger wove its way through traffic to reach the Navy Yard, beating the others by a minute.

            When they walked into the squad room from the elevator, Abby came flying towards them. “I just heard! I’m so sorry, guys. I might have liked her, aside from the fact she was dealing cocaine and probably murdered a captain . . . Did you know Sister Rosita bowled a 750 and McGee’s new book came out?”

            “What?” For a few heartbeats Tony and Ziva looked blankly at the forensic scientist. Then her words registered and they glowered at the author of Deep Six, wolfish growls emanating from them.

            McGee gulped, noticing the sudden change in his teammates. Right then he was positive they could rip him into bite-sized McGemcity pieces and wolf him down. So to speak.