Have Lizard, Will Travel Read online

  Have Lizard, Will Travel

  Double-Oh Shifters

  Mina Carter, Eve Langlais

  Contents

  Introduction

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author - Mina Carter

  About the Author - Eve Langlais

  Copyright © 2019, Mina Carter & Eve Langlais

  Cover Art by Mina Carter © 2019

  Published by Mina Carter and Eve Langlais

  http://www.Mina-Carter.com

  http://www.EveLanglais.com

  E-ISBN-13: 9781393407614

  PRINT ISBN: 9781393378792

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.

  Introduction

  A lizard of many faces, he not only must save the world, but also convince a lady to pet his reptile.

  International agent Simon is on a mission. And it isn’t to avoid the shoe of the woman he’s sent to spy on.

  This undercover operative must find a dangerous recipe book before it’s too late. The fate of shifterkind depends on him.

  But if it comes down to saving the lovely Petunia or the world…his trouser-lizard wants a say.

  Prologue

  Hanging out in the rafters of a warehouse wasn’t the most exciting thing. Especially since Simon had been waiting here for hours. Being a spy wasn’t all cocktail parties, jumping out of airplanes and seducing women for information—although, admittedly, that was the best part.

  A lot of surveillance involved twiddling his thumbs. Usually, in uncomfortable places. The time he’d spent crammed in an overhead bin during a private flight for that drug lord being a prime example. However, then, like now, his patience had paid off. The deal was about to happen right in front of him. The package he’d tracked sat atop a wooden crate, and both the parties had arrived to make the trade.

  “Is it all there?” Lester asked, his gruff voice matching his scruffy countenance. His hair had a shag to it that blended into his beard, and the hair covering his neck. Given how much he must shed, he probably kept the local plumbers busy. Simon shuddered at the thought. There was nothing worse than clearing hair out of a drain.

  “Twenty-five kilos of Honeyed Ursa’s Bane. Top-grade. Only the most potent part of the plant was used.” The speaker, a slender Asian fellow who only went by the name Yang, kept his hands tucked behind his back. He wore a full suit and, unlike Lester, was freshly shaven and trimmed. A pair of armed guards, also in suits, flanked Yang, their dark shades hiding their expressions. The contrast between them and the disheveled Lester proved stark.

  “What kind of honey?” Lester asked.

  “Non-pasteurized and fresh to give it that sweet twist. Guaranteed to make your inner beast roll over and beg for some more.”

  The hairy bloke didn’t take Yang at his word. He pried open the end of the package and withdrew a vial filled with an amber-colored fluid. He held it up to the light, and Simon ducked into the shadows lest he be seen.

  A pop of the lid and a tilt of the tiny glass jar dropped a bit on Lester’s tongue. He closed his eyes and gave a satisfied rumble. “That’s good shit.”

  “Indeed, it is. Now, if you don’t mind, I will take my payment,” Yang prodded.

  Lester gave a jerk of his head. “Bring it out.”

  It turned out to be a woman, wrists bound in rope, mouth stuffed with a rag, eyes wide in terror.

  Simon perked up. The target for his mission had been located.

  Time to call in the reinforcements. Simon nudged the face of his watch. A single tap would send an alert for the cavalry to infiltrate. An error message lit the screen.

  No signal.

  Bloody warehouse with its metal-sheeting walls.

  The deal was nearly done. The parties about to walk away.

  There was no time to waste.

  Without hesitation, Simon flung himself off the beam, arms and legs spread wide. He sailed through the air to land on the crate with a thump.

  Someone exclaimed, “Is that a fucking lizard?”

  Ah, but not just any lizard. Agent double sixty-nine was here to save the day. Again.

  Simon darted towards Lester, who aimed a gun in confusion.

  “What the fuck is a lizard doing here?” Lester asked.

  Getting the bloody job done, that’s what.

  A soaring leap by Simon startled the man, and he misfired, the bullet hitting the rafters above. Claws scrabbling for purchase on the man’s clothes, Simon climbed him, inwardly smirking at the guy’s shrieks.

  Really, it wasn’t as if he were a truly grotesque arachnid. Now there was a reason to panic.

  Lester didn’t make the distinction. He danced around, batting at himself, managing a solid smack against Simon. His eyes rattled in his head, and he saw stars for a moment, but he held on and finished his climb, his personal theme song playing in his head.

  Latching his mouth on to Lester’s neck, he managed a solid chomp. The sleeping capsule, attached to the tip of his tooth, broke on contact, the serum rapidly entering Lester’s bloodstream. The sedative worked almost immediately.

  Lester slumped as Simon leaped clear.

  Chaos abounded with Lester’s henchman confused and aiming their gun everywhere and yelling uselessly.

  “Holy shit, that lizard bit him.”

  “Think it’s poisonous?”

  “Fuck me, I hate lizards!”

  The idiots still hadn’t grasped the situation. But Yang understood. He headed briskly for the exit, his henchman dragging the woman behind them.

  Simon scurried quickly after them, his tail swishing with excitement. They wouldn’t escape him!

  Bang. Pow. The bullets dug into the concrete floor, scattering shards that pinged off the skin and stung. Simon hissed, flicked his tongue, and weaved, making himself a harder target. But he wouldn’t remain lucky forever. At some point, his good fortune would run out. Literally. He was due to visit Madame Lachance for a fresh packet of lucky herbs. He might grab more of that skin cream, too. It left his lizard very soft to the touch. Pettable.

  Ping! That bullet came a tad too close. Time to put a stop to it. With his sleeping capsule gone, Simon had to rely on other tricks. His tail flipped up and forward, the sudden flick throwing a sharp-tipped dart. It hit Yang’s guard in the calf. He didn’t notice and kept moving, his steps slowing until he collapsed on the floor.

  One down!

  The other guard shoved the woman at his boss and turned to face Simon.

  “Here, lizard, lizard,” he sang, taking aim with malicious glee.

  Bang. Bang.

  The whizz of a bullet skimmed past Simon’s tiny, reptilian skull. Bollocks, that had been a close one. He dodged left, and yet didn’t entirely escape unscathed. The next shot scraped a furrow along his side. It stu
ng but didn’t slow him. Nothing would stop this super-lizard!

  The guard ran out of bullets and turned away, dashing for the exit where his boss made his escape.

  Oh no, you bloody well don’t. Still scurrying, Simon transformed, his small lizard body expanding into something big and hulking. It wasn’t a shape he could hold for long.

  “Going ssssomewhere?” he hissed.

  That got the man’s attention. He paused to glance over his shoulder, eyes widened.

  With his lips peeled into a smile, Simon flicked his tongue and said, “Yummy. A rat.” The guard recoiled.

  The hesitation provided the opening Simon needed. He slammed into the guard, driving his shoulder into the man’s midsection and taking him to the ground. The impact jolted his concentration, and he shrank to normal size, slightly less scary.

  But not less dangerous. From his position atop the man, it proved simple enough to grab hold of the fellow’s ears. The sharp rap of his head on the concrete knocked the guard out.

  Slam. The metal door rang as it shut behind Yang and the woman. Simon ran for it, bare feet slapping on the concrete.

  Instinct had him flattening himself to the floor, legs out as he slid. Just in time.

  Bullets peppered the door with holes, the missiles whizzing past overhead. Simon crawled to the exit and kept to the side when he flung it open. Nothing shot at him, so he glanced around the edge.

  Yang had changed tactics, and rather than shoot at Simon, he shoved the woman into the back seat of a luxury sedan. He was about to escape.

  Not on Simon’s watch.

  Literally. The timepiece, with its expandable strap, slid off his wrist. Simon flung it and immediately turned his face. Closed his eyes too for good measure.

  Bang. The flash bang went off, and the echo of it hadn’t even died before Simon was up and running towards the car. But he didn’t need to hurry. Yang lay on the ground, groaning.

  Simon stood over him, hands on his hips. The special loincloth that followed him through the shift was stretched to the max.

  The. Max.

  Simon had always been rather proud of that fact.

  Yang opened an eye and glared at him blearily. “Who are you?”

  “Agent Simon Longwatton with RI3. You probably know me as agent double sixty-nine. You are under arrest for the illegal sale of Honeyed Ursa and the trafficking of Dryads.”

  A body flung itself at Simon. Soft, scented curves that went well with the femininely gushed, “My hero.”

  Indeed, he was. And just like the legendary 007, he always got the girl.

  He just never gave her his number.

  He showed her instead.

  One

  “Oh, here we go. The tailless wonder returns.”

  The comment was meant to be heard as Simon walked into RI3 headquarters—short for Reptile Intelligence, section three, an offshoot of the main international intelligence agencies. They specialized in missions only lizard shifters could pull off.

  “It grew back,” Simon muttered with a dark glare at Ricardo, his rival at the bureau. A dark and swarthy sloth on loan from another department with a track record almost as good as Simon’s.

  “Stroke of luck they caught a nice pic of you for the Christmas party.” Ricardo flashed his phone.

  He needn’t have bothered. Simon had seen the image—studied it, as well—noted that his package presented itself admirably in the tight loincloth.

  Very nice, indeed. “You’re just jealous because I get all the ladies, Ricardo.” Simon smirked at the other agent as he passed, catching sight of himself in the glass wall of the offices at the end of the room and stopping to smooth his hair down.

  It couldn’t be less than perfect. He had a reputation to maintain.

  A door in front of him opened, and a woman poked her head out. Mrs. Sterling, N’s secretary, looked Simon up and down. He bit back his smile but did proffer a wink.

  She wanted him; he just knew it. She never said anything, and may have rebuffed his every advance, but even though she was happily married, having just celebrated her thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, Simon knew she wanted to pet his lizard. All the ladies did.

  Simon was irresistible. Blond, blue-eyed, and handsome. If, by some remote chance his incredible physique didn’t seal the deal, being the son of a baron certainly did. A title—and the wealth that went along with it—dropped panties. A fact that Simon very, very much appreciated.

  “Longwatton!” Mrs. Sterling barked his name better than any drill sergeant he’d ever heard. It gave a man a shiver, especially given the governess thing she had going on with her hair tucked in a bun, and her glasses low on her nose. “N wants to see you in her office. Now.”

  “Wonderful seeing you, Mrs. Sterling. You’re looking especially lovely today.”

  “Save the buttering for the boss. You’re late. Again.”

  “Until the next time I see you, Mrs. Sterling.” Simon winked and inclined his head. He sauntered past her, making sure to readjust his suit jacket as he went. He knew suits were to women what lingerie was to men, and he used that to his advantage. Ruthlessly. He also wore a suave smile, not too much teeth, just a hint of humor that pulled the little dimple by his cheek.

  “Oh, put it away, Longwatton,” N rebuked as he walked in.

  “Lovely to see you too, ma’am.” This woman deserved his respect, and he knew better than to misbehave.

  Although in her late fifties, possibly early sixties, N was not someone to be trifled with. Not only was she striking in looks, the evidence of her beauty shining in her brown face, but she’d also been an active RI3 operative in her time. Added to that was the fact that, as a Komodo dragon shifter, she could eat him for breakfast if she chose to. And by eat, he didn’t mean in a good way.

  “You’re late.” N stared at him, the vertical slits of her eyes unblinking.

  “Slightly detained,” he said as the door closed behind him. “You know how it is.”

  “Perhaps you should spend less time on your hair and more on learning to tell time.”

  A man’s hair was his pride. Right after his tail. “I’m here now. What did you want to see me about?”

  “Sit down.”

  Oh, shit. That tone of voice didn’t bode well.

  Simon sat down, his movements precise. He didn’t manspread, his manners too ingrained in him by a succession of nannies during his childhood for anything so… crass.

  The dragon lady had yet to blink. “I just read the report on your last mission. Care to explain?” N queried a touch too nicely, her hands folded neatly over a folder on her desk. Prim. Proper. Nostrils smoking, a possible sign of agitation. But as long as he didn’t see teeth, she probably wouldn’t eat him.

  Although, he could end up slightly roasted.

  “Explain what, ma’am?” He coughed and sat up a little straighter, feeling—uncomfortably—like he was on trial. “I thought I was quite eloquent in explaining my role in the successful return of the package.”

  “The package has a name. She is also what I’d like to talk about. Would you care to explain to me why there is a time gap between your recovery of Miss…” N paused to open the file in front of her and rifle through the pages. “Ah, yes, Miss Ash. Would you like to explain why there is a time delay between your recovery of Miss Ash and your delivery of her to her home? And why there is a rather large bill for the Grand Orient hotel in London listed in your expenses?”

  Bollocks. Caught. Simon had hoped that N wouldn’t make that connection.

  “Ah, yes. Well, Miss Ash was rather…unsettled by her experience, so I thought a little rest and relaxation would be in order.” Simon could definitely say he felt rather boneless after the experience.

  N cocked her eyebrow. “I suppose next you’ll tell me it required a double room and a thousand-dollar bottle of champagne.”

  Simon gave a small smile. “Only the best for the ladies, N. You wouldn’t want anyone thinking the section is cheap now, would
you?”

  There. The tiniest little curve at the corner of the old dragon’s lips. He had her, he knew it.

  “One day,” she said warningly, “that charm isn’t going to work. Then, you’re screwed.”

  “Oh, I certainly hope so.” He smiled, knowing that he was off the hook. More or less. N would probably have the extra expenses taken out of his wages, but with his inheritance, Simon didn’t rely on what the agency paid him. Pitiful amount really, even with the hazard pay.

  “Get out of here, Longwatton.” She laughed, closing the file. “And report to S straight away. He has a new assignment for you.”

  “As you command.” He sketched a bow before exiting her office.

  He saluted a few chaps and ladies on his way to S’s office. He didn’t bother knocking, just walked right in. “How’s it hanging?”

  S gulped, and his buggy eyes widened. “Must you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Startle me.”

  “Why so startled? Unless you were doing something you shouldn’t.” Dropping into a chair, Simon adopted a casual pose with his hands laced behind his head. “Were you doing something naughty, S?”

  “Most certainly not.” Said with a hard swallow that showed his Adam’s apple.

  “That’s a pity.” Simon changed the subject. “So, what’s my next mission?” Maybe something tropical. He did so love sandy beaches.

  “Glad you asked. This just came across my desk this morning.” S shuffled some paper, more for show than anything else. These days, most of their missions came electronically. S also shoved at his thick-rimmed glasses. If anyone ever had the word geek attached to his name…

  Simon crossed his legs. “What’s the summary of the gig?”