by Nalini Singh
Pursing his lips in disapproval, the man on the other side nonetheless made no demur as Hawke signed off. “What is it?” His eyes flicked over Riaz’s shoulder, sharpened.
Riaz had already turned to greet Riley, pushing the door closed behind the senior lieutenant. “Do you have what I asked for?” He’d called Riley during his run to the den.
Nodding, the other man input a data crystal into the comm panel. “These are the watch routes I’ve assigned the soldiers and novices over the past two weeks.” A longer period than warranted by the intensity of the scent, but Riaz hadn’t wanted to risk missing a pattern because of too tight a date range.
“I’ve color-coded the individual soldiers,” Riley continued, “so you can see who was where when at a glance.”
Riaz pinpointed the rise where he’d caught the scent, inserted an asterisk to mark the spot on the map, then checked which packmates had passed within sight of it. Fury ignited in his blood. “The shape of the scent on the earth,” he said, after filling Hawke and Riley in on his discovery, “says the intruder was lying down.” It was the only way he or she could have escaped detection.
“Sniper?” Riley asked in a grim tone.
“Or surveillance.” Ice in Hawke’s voice, the wolf stalking behind pale eyes fixed on the assignment map. “No reason for the Psy to watch Maria, Tai, Riordan, or Ebony.”
That left one name.
“We knew this would happen,” Riaz said, tracking the deep aqua color Riley had allocated Sienna, his anger transforming into a cold determination to keep safe the young woman who’d walked into battle willing to die for SnowDancer. “Everyone in the Net now knows what she can do.”
“I hoped they’d leave her alone a few fucking months at least.” The words were gritted out between the alpha’s clenched teeth.
“How’d they know she’d pass through that field?” Riaz thrust a hand through his hair. “Riley mixes up assignments.” SnowDancer had had one traitor in their midst—another one would kill them; but the question had to be asked. “You think they have an informant?”
“No.” Hawke’s response held utmost confidence. “I’m betting they’ve been using spy satellites to scan our territory—the canopy makes it difficult in most cases, but there are open areas.”
Riaz gave a slow nod. “All they’d have needed was a single glimpse of Sienna”—her hair that distinctive ruby red—“and then they just had to be patient.” He considered the other implications if Hawke was right. “No normal person would have access to that kind of satellite data. Or to a teleporter.” Flying or driving any unauthorized vehicle into the territory without being caught was so difficult as to be impossible.
“Pure Psy,” Riley said, his eyes on the map, “lost the majority of their Tks in the fight. If Judd’s right about the rumblings in the Net, the group’s probably got other priorities at this point.”
“Ming is the most obvious suspect.” Riaz was aware the man had been the military mastermind of the Council. “But we don’t have enough information to rule anyone out. Kaleb Krychek for one.” The lethal telekinetic could see Sienna as a threat to his own power.
“Shoshanna’s gone suspiciously quiet, but she was the force behind Henry for most of their sham of a marriage,” Hawke said, and Riaz knew the alpha’s brain was working with cold efficiency in spite of his rage. “And Tatiana’s always been very good at hiding her involvement in any number of ops.”
“I’ll talk to Judd.” Shutting down the map, Riley retrieved the data crystal. “He might be able to get us more concrete data.”
“I’ll tap my contacts in Europe,” Riaz added, knowing Ming used an estate in the Champagne region of France as his home base. “See what I can dig up.” Glimpsing the look in his alpha’s eyes, he said, “No one will get near her, Hawke. We won’t let them.”
Hawke knew his people would bleed to protect his mate, but he didn’t want Sienna to need that protection, to be forced to live in another cage. “We make sure she’s safe on our land,” he said, his anger an icy blade. “This needs to be her home, where she can walk without fear.”
Riaz’s phone beeped a sharp alarm into the silence. “Damn,” the lieutenant said, glancing at the screen after switching it off. “I have the comm-conference with Kenji and the BlackSea rep.”
“Go,” Hawke said, thinking past the fury that clawed through his veins. “That’s your priority.” BlackSea brought far too much to the table to disregard. “I need to talk to Sienna anyway.” Any defensive response SnowDancer formulated would need her input—she knew the strengths and weaknesses of her enemies better than anyone.
Riley shot him an openly concerned look after Riaz left. “It might go better coming from me.”
Hawke didn’t take it wrong—Riley wasn’t only his senior lieutenant, he was also Hawke’s friend, knew exactly how this might make him behave. “No, I’ve got it.”
* * *
HAVING tracked Sienna to the nursery where she was doing a volunteer shift, Hawke watched his mate talking with a two-year-old. Thank God she was inside today—he didn’t know if he’d have been able to handle his primal response if she’d been out in the thick green of the forests.
He knew she’d sensed his presence, but she didn’t break off what appeared to be a serious discussion. Nodding solemnly at something the little boy said, she helped him finish building his wooden-block masterpiece before rising to her feet and walking over to Tarah.
A short conversation later, she headed toward him. “I asked to leave early,” she said, and he knew he’d failed in his attempt to shield the raw emotions that had his wolf pacing, claws out.
“Walk with me.”
Not asking questions, she accompanied him down the corridors and to an exit from the den that led into a less utilized section of the White Zone. Where he leaned against the moss-covered wall of the den and gathered her into his arms, just held her for a long, long time.
Sienna was intensity and fire and energy, but today, she stood quiet, letting him take what he needed, his mate who knew him better than he knew himself.
When he drew back at last and told her what Riaz had discovered, the cardinal starlight of her gaze turned to endless midnight. “It was predictable,” she said, no shock in her, just an anger as deep as his own. “No one likes a rogue X.”
A growl rumbled up from his chest. “I will not allow anyone to hunt you.” It was a vow from the heart of the wolf. “Brenna and Mariska are already working on further fine-tuning our surveillance systems, so we have a better chance of detecting these incursions.” The fact that it was near impossible to stop teleport-capable Tks from going anywhere they wanted meant nothing—no one in SnowDancer was planning to make it easy for those stalking Sienna.
His mate placed her right hand against his chest. “I’ll speak with them,” she said, “let them know a few elements they can factor into their calculations. Judd will probably be able to provide more guidance.”
At times, he forgot how Sienna had been brought up, the inhumanity of her childhood. Then she showed this depth of strength, keeping a steely calm through an ugliness that would’ve shoved many back into the darkness, and he remembered that his young mate had lived a lifetime in nineteen years. “Good,” he said, his pride in her a blinding fire. “You also need to talk to Riley about your watch rotations.”
A guarded alertness. “Why?”
“So he can make sure your shifts never fall into any kind of a pattern, timing or location wise. We don’t want those watching being able to guess with any hope of accuracy where you’ll be.”
Her shoulders lost the fine tension that had flowed into her with his earlier words. “Yes, that’s an excellent precaution.”
Cradling her face with one hand, he said, “I won’t ever clip your wings, baby.” Regardless of how much he hated the fact that she was in danger—because to do so would be to put her back in that cage, and his mate had spent more than enough time locked in the dark.
“I
know you want to protect me,” she whispered, long, slender fingers spreading over his heart. “I can feel your need in every pulse of your blood.”
“I can’t promise that I won’t check up on you every so often during your shifts,” Hawke admitted, because it would’ve been a lie of monumental proportions to do otherwise, “but every part of me understands who you are.” Not simply his mate, but a dangerous, beautiful woman with her own dreams and desires.
It would’ve been easier if she’d been someone else, a woman who followed his every dictate and who never put herself in harm’s way. But he didn’t want easier, didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Sienna. Only Sienna.
She turned her face into his hand. “All right.” A simple acceptance that said she knew, understood … followed by an unexpected smile full of mischief. “Scuttlebutt is, Riley’s been running into Mercy ‘accidentally’ during her shifts since they found out about the pregnancy.”
Hawke’s wolf was startled out of its anger into a chuckle. “I hope Mercy lives up to her name.”
Sienna laughed, no fear in her, only a strength that made his wolf want to throw back its head and sing in joy that she was his.
Chapter 35
RIAZ LINKED IN with Kenji in the conference room usually used for SnowDancer lieutenant meetings. The other man’s hair was now a shocking pink with vivid blue streaks. It was a welcome distraction. “You look like fucking Japanese cotton candy.”
“How the hell can cotton candy look Japanese?” Kenji shot back before picking up a datapad. “Any new thoughts on the outline agreement since our last call?”
Knowing they were short on time, Riaz decided to update Kenji on the situation with Sienna later, and brought up the contract on a split screen that would be visible on Kenji’s end, too. “Yeah, one.” He quickly set it out. “You see any problems?”
Kenji shook his head. “No, that’s a good amendment.” He highlighted a section in the agreement they’d discussed earlier. “I’m still not sure about this.”
“They won’t consent to a complete strikeout, and it’s not a deal breaker for us,” Riaz said, “but let’s bring it up and see what concessions we can squeeze out of them.”
“Works for me.”
One of the other comm screens in the room chimed a five-second countdown as Kenji finished speaking. Clearing away the contract, Riaz was ready when the third screen filled with Emani Berg’s elegant face. Born in a small village along one of Norway’s remote fjords, Emani had skin of a deep, silken shade of brown, and eyes of midnight. Her black hair had been in curls the last time Riaz had seen her—in Venice—but fell sleek and straight around her face today … complete with a single streak of shocking pink.
Amused, Riaz said, “Good call.”
Emani’s nod was regal. “Mr. Tanaka does keep things interesting.”
Kenji looked disgruntled. “How did you guess?”
“I have someone in your region.” Not even a hint of a smile, though Riaz knew her well enough to know she was tweaking Kenji’s nose. The woman was a killer poker player.
“Fleeced any innocents lately?” Riaz asked, recalling the soccer tickets she’d won off him and Pierce, the same serene expression on her face the entire game.
“I’m planning to do so in the next few minutes,” was the smooth response.
Laughing, he lifted the printout of the outline. “This,” he said, “is fine as far as the basics go, but we’d like to make some changes with regard to the details.”
Her surprise was concealed with such flawless ease, Riaz would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching for just such a reaction. “I’m listening,” she said in that calm, temperate voice.
Riaz nodded at Kenji, who began to go through SnowDancer’s list of requested amendments. Emani frowned at some of their stipulations but didn’t voice outright disagreement. Once Kenji had completed the run-through, she looked up from the copy on which she’d been making notes. “I’ll need to run this past our Conclave, but while we’ll certainly be coming back to you with our own changes, I don’t foresee any major problems.”
“Good.” Riaz folded his arms. “BlackSea realizes we’re already in alliance with DarkRiver and WindHaven?”
“Of course. We understand that should we agree to a full alliance, BlackSea would be expected to come to their aid when necessary.”
“And vice versa,” Kenji pointed out.
Emani gave a graceful nod. “As DarkRiver and WindHaven would effectively become our allies should SnowDancer and BlackSea come to an understanding, our Conclave would like to have a comm conversation with both Lucas Hunter, and Adam Garrett of the WindHaven falcons before we take the final step into an alliance.”
“I don’t see a problem with that,” Riaz said. “We also have a request: a face-to-face meeting between Hawke and Miane.” He didn’t mention the fact the request was nonnegotiable, wanting to gauge how well BlackSea was willing to play with SnowDancer.
“I see.” A small pause.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a no?”
“On the contrary. We expected the request.”
“We’ll work with you to set it up then.” There was no use waiting, not when the entire alliance might hang on the reaction the two alphas had to one another.
“Very well.” Emani’s image swayed a little, then righted.
“Rough seas?”
“Nothing unusual.” Tapping at the comm controls on her desk, she looked at him and Kenji in turn. “While we are not yet allied, BlackSea would like to pass on some information in the spirit of cooperation.”
Not waiting for a verbal response, Emani split her screen. “Two days ago, three of our members found a ship dead in the water off the coast of Sardinia—well outside their territorial waters, however.” The empty half of the screen filled with the image of a sleek yacht that had to be at least one hundred feet long. Painted a gleaming black, it was shaped like a bullet, the windows tinted. “As per our own internal rules, they shifted into human form to render assistance.”
Riaz had no trouble believing her explanation. More than one stranded sailor or shipwrecked crew had been saved by those from BlackSea—the sea changelings might have been notoriously secretive, but they didn’t hesitate when it came to a question of saving lives.
“All seven of the people on board were Psy,” she continued. “They’d been dead long enough to cool, but rigor had not yet begun to set in.” Seven crime scene images appeared onscreen, replacing that of the yacht. “As you can see, they appear to have been executed.”
“Suggests a team with military training,” Kenji murmured before pausing and asking Emani to reorder the images a certain way. “No, not a team. Look at what I’d bet was the first kill—broken neck. The rest are all clean strikes with a laser weapon. Silent and efficient.”
“We agree. It appears the individual responsible for the executions took the weapon from the first victim and proceeded to use it to eliminate the others.”
And, Riaz thought, if the yacht had been found in the high seas, that pointed to the involvement of a second craft—no one but another water-based changeling could’ve swum to shore from that far out. In which case, BlackSea would’ve sunk the boat and its dead cargo in short order, no one the wiser.
“Our people,” Emani said, breaking into his thoughts, “had enough time before a Psy team located the boat that we were able to gather a significant amount of data. One of the things we discovered was this scrap of fabric.”
Riaz stared at the image of the ragged square, one half of it bearing an emblem of some kind. “I’ve seen that before.”
“Yes, very likely.” Emani input a command and the fragment re-formed into a whole.
Kenji hissed out a breath. “Son of a bitch.”
ADRIA had just finished having coffee with Tarah and was heading back to the office she’d been assigned down the corridor from Drew when Shawnelle ran up to her. With an exuberant personality and wild bronze curls to match, the
athletic fifteen-year-old was incredibly sweet, a gentle maternal submissive.
“You didn’t forget?” the girl asked.
“No,” Adria reassured her. “I was about to get my camera—you want photos, right?”
A bright smile against skin the shade of polished teak. “Do you think anyone will want to see?”
“Don’t try that shy act on me,” Adria teased, tugging on one of Shawnie’s tight curls. “Walker’s put me onto your tricks.”
Shawnie giggled, protesting her innocence all the way to Adria’s office, where Adria grabbed a camera capable of taking holographic images as well as high-definition two-dimensional shots. “I’m all yours.”
Shawnelle led her quickly down the corridors, past all the busy sections, to a small room at the very back. Pushing through the door, she waved Adria in with excited motions.
Entering, Adria whistled. “You have a bunch of elves working for you?”
“The others helped,” Shawnie said. “Especially Becca and Ivy.”
Adria shook her head. The room had been four plain stone walls and a door when she’d assisted Shawnie make the request for a work space. The teen had been terrified of approaching Riley on her own, but she’d had the will. All Adria had had to do was provide moral support.
Now, the four walls were each painted a different colors from lime green to blood orange to aqua-blue and crisp white, the paint remnants no doubt left over from when the maternals had redone the common areas of the den. Vibrant and alive, it suited Shawnie. The faded carpet on the floor was clearly a discard from someone’s home, but it had been washed and dusted to within an inch of its life, its battered elegance imparting a warm coziness to the room.
Against one wall stood a long table on which were spread swatches of fabric, beside it a compact sewing machine, while there was a small curtained cubicle to the back. Walking to the cubicle, Shawnie whispered to the person on the other side—Ivy, from the scent—then glanced at Adria. “Ready?”