by Nalini Singh
“Time?” She circled a possible security hole in the blue-print in front of her, her mind flicking to the last time she’d been in an underground garage. Damn but she missed the wolf already. And, scent layer or not, that spelled trouble.
“Seven. Sascha’s doing dinner.”
“God save us all.” Sascha had decided she liked cooking. Unfortunately, cooking didn’t like her back.
Ria chuckled. “She’s improving. She made me a cake the other day, and it was only a little salty.”
“That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
“Don’t worry—tonight it’s tacos. She told me there’s not much she can do to destroy that particular meal.”
“We’ll see,” Mercy joked. “Any other news?”
“Zara’s designing for us again as of today.”
Mercy liked the changeling wildcat who’d been on contract to DarkRiver’s construction arm before heading back to her own pack. “Say hi to her for me. Tell her Sage still has a crush on her.”
“Aw, cute. How come your brothers are single?”
“They say I scare the women off.”
“More likely they’re spoiled—they’re not going to settle for any woman who doesn’t match the standard you’ve set.”
Buoyed by the compliment, Mercy shook off her odd mood and focused on the work. The rest of her day, including a security shift in the city, passed with surprisingly little drama—the Alliance had gone cold again, and Bowen and his crew were still behaving. Even Eduardo and Joaquin were nowhere to be seen, for which boon, she could only thank the heavens.
And if she continued to find herself thinking about a certain wolf much too often, she was sentinel enough to keep her emotions from interfering with the job. But those feelings were fresh in her mind when she got a call as she was about to leave to change for the meeting.
“Come up and meet me tonight.” That deep, now familiar voice soaked through her skin, rich, dark, and tempting.
Her hand clenched on the receiver. “Can’t. Got something else.”
“When’s it finish? I’ll meet you.”
“No.”
“That’s it—no?” The edge of a growl in his voice. “I thought we’d settled this.”
The sheer arrogance of his commands—not requests, commands—made the cat snarl. “Doesn’t mean you have an entry into my pants anytime you please.”
“Jesus, Mercy, I just wanted to talk to you.”
She felt a little twinge. Of guilt. Of hunger. “Talk now.”
“Fine.” He told her about the conversation he’d witnessed between Hawke and Sienna.
Mercy’s antennae twanged. “Something’s seriously wrong.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I want you to tell Sascha. She’s the one Psy we know who might have a shot at getting to the bottom of this. Judd says Sienna’s stonewalling him.”
“Why didn’t you call her yourself?”
Not even a pause. “Because it’s you I want to talk to.” No lies. No subterfuge. No hiding his intent.
“Damn it, Riley. This’ll leave us both broken in the end.” The naked emotional response pushed out past any logical rebuttal. She was starting to think of him as hers, but he wasn’t, might never be. Not when her leopard wouldn’t even accept the bonds of scent.
“And is fighting it any less painful?”
No. No, it hurts just as bad.
CHAPTER 29
He was only twenty-two, a telekinetic with a Gradient rating of 7. Powerful, he was truly powerful. And he’d lost control.
Trembling, he levitated the fallen bureau off his roommate’s body. The Tp-Psy lay crushed, his organs static, his brain destroyed. Dead. The Tk-Psy swallowed the word past the jagged glass of a parched throat. He’d never seen a dead person before. That wasn’t part of the Psy curriculum.
But now his roommate was dead, and he was a murderer.
He didn’t even try to hide it. Didn’t want to. He wanted to find an answer, something that would stop him from doing the same thing ever again. Enforcement processed him quickly, since there was no question of culpability.
When a representative from the Center came to offer him mild rehabilitation in lieu of a sentence, the Tk-Psy didn’t hesitate. Even if they’d said he had to do the sentence, he still wouldn’t have balked. Because he never again wanted to feel his powers sliding out of his grip, never again wanted to see blood seep into the carpet.
For the first time, he truly understood the salvation that was Silence.
CHAPTER 30
Mercy sat in her car, staring out at the light show of a cloudy dusk. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until she felt like she could break the damn thing. When the first flick of rain hit the windshield, she finally turned on the engine and headed to her cabin, wanting out of her work clothes before going over to Lucas and Sascha’s aerie.
Turned out she was the first to arrive. Sascha was in the kitchen, looking mournful. “Lucas went to grab some take-out.”
“You found a way to destroy tacos?” Mercy raised her eyebrows. “This, I have to see.”
Sascha threw a tomato at her. “I dropped the box of taco shells and managed to break every single one into a million pieces.”
Looking into the box, Mercy whistled and put down the abused tomato. “Wow, sure you didn’t throw this at his highness’s head?”
A guilty look. Mercy burst out laughing. “That does my heart good.”
“What?”
“To know you two still fight.”
Sascha’s lips tugged up at the corners. “It’s fun.”
“Yeah, it is.” Grinning, she used one of the broken pieces to scoop up the salsa Sascha had already made. “I got some info for you on Sienna.” She filled Sascha in.
“Hmm, I’ll have to go up and see what’s happening. I’ve been working with Toby, but I don’t think I’ve talked to Sienna in several weeks.” She leaned against the wall and looked at Mercy with those penetrating cardinal eyes. “You’re wound up tighter than tight.”
Mercy decided to take up the implied offer. “Riley’s pushing.”
“That’s what predatory changeling men do.” A meaningful glance at the broken taco shells.
“Not that kind of pushing—though he does that, too. He’s pushing for more than sex.” She paused, then admitted the truth. “It already is more than sex.” The strength of these new emotions threatened to crush her heart, steal her breath.
“Ah.” Sascha took a few moments. “Is there a possibility he could be your mate?”
“I’m not what he’s looking for in a mate, trust me.” A stab deep in her soul, a twisting pain that seemed to get stronger with every day that passed.
“That hurts you.”
She went to deny it, then decided it was unmitigated stupidity to lie to an empath on the subject of emotions. “Yeah, it does. But I’m glad he was honest—that’s more important than anything. As long as he doesn’t try to mold me into what he wants, I can deal.” Because she wanted him, too, the idiot.
And maybe, since he wasn’t asking for a lifetime, her leopard wouldn’t resent being tied down, perhaps even find some peace in it. Except . . . “The way he draws me, the sheer strength of it . . . I don’t know what to do.”
Sascha gave her a surprisingly mischievous smile. “Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy him while you figure it out.”
And the tension broke, just like that. Mercy threw part of a taco shell at Sascha. “Some help you are.”
They were still laughing when Dorian arrived, followed by Clay. The four of them managed to demolish the salsa by the time Lucas returned, with Nate and Vaughn on his heels. None of the sentinels’ mates had come today, which was surprising. Mercy said as much.
“Kids are at Tammy’s—Tally’s gone to dinner with Ria,” Clay told her. “They’re calling it a strategy meeting—how human females deal with changeling males.”
Everyone but Dorian laughed. His next words told them why. “Shaya’s w
ith Amara.”
“She’ll be fine,” Lucas said. “Your mate’s tough.”
“Yeah.” A proud smile. “I can’t help but worry, though. Keenan’s at Tammy’s.”
“Faith, too,” Vaughn added. “And Brenna was there when I left.”
No one found that strange. Brenna and Faith had quietly become very good friends over the past months. “Did Judd come down?” Mercy asked.
“Probably.” Dorian passed her a box of take-out fried rice. “He has trouble letting Brenna out of his sight.”
“Oh, please,” Mercy muttered, “you’re all so overprotective you’d be delighted if you could pack your mates in cotton wool and put them inside glass bubbles.”
Sascha started laughing so hard, she almost dropped her egg roll. “I think that’s Lucas’s secret fantasy.”
Her mate growled at her. “All I said was that you looked a little tired. You didn’t have to blow a gasket.”
“You told me to go lie down.” Sascha poked her chopsticks in his direction. “Do I look like an invalid to you?”
Of course, that was just an invitation for the men to throw in their support behind Lucas, while Mercy had to back Sascha on principle. Come to think of it, the cardinal did look different. Not tired exactly. A little more fragile. Softer. More breakable.
“Enough.” Sascha cut off the discussion with a hand. “We have actual work to do.”
“Right,” Lucas said. “Clay, you had some intel.”
“Rats.” Clay named his source. “They’re catching hints that a group of people are gathering chemicals that could be used to make bombs. Low-tech bombs, but they’ll do the job same as high-tech.”
Everyone went quiet.
“Alliance?” Dorian finally asked.
“Unconfirmed but from the surveillance footage we were able to get, one of the buyers looks very similar to a face we flagged as a possible Alliance mercenary from the flights that came in around the time of Nash’s abduction,” Clay said. “Teijan has his people on it twenty-four/seven, but whoever they are, they’re being very careful. No clue as to where they’ve set up base yet.”
“We’ll find them,” Lucas said, eyes grim. “No one makes trouble in our city.”
The night after his frustrating call with Mercy, Riley was antsy. It was tempting to blame it on his day—DarkRiver and SnowDancer had both upped their already visible presence in the city in silent warning to the Alliance, but they weren’t any closer to running down the operatives. Since he’d just come off a full day shift in the city, it would’ve been easy to lie to himself.
But that wasn’t who he was. “What would you say if I asked you a hypothetical question?” he asked after giving Hawke his report.
Hawke’s eyes gleamed. “That there are no such things as hypothetical questions.”
“That’s what I thought.” He lapsed back into thought.
Hawke stared at him. “I can answer your hypothetical question, though.”
“You don’t know what it is.”
“I know you’re jumpy as hell for Mercy. Go find her. Get naked. The end.”
Riley looked at his alpha. “That’s your pitch to women? Let’s get naked?” He snorted. “No wonder your balls are blue.”
Hawke gave him a one-finger salute. “Go take care of your own balls.”
“Maybe I will.” He got up. “I have an answer for you, too.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Too bad. Lieutenant privileges.” He put his hand on the door to the office. “I know why your balls are blue.”
Silence.
“Whatever the hell is happening between you two, make a note that several different men, me included, will kill you if you touch her. She’s not ready.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Hawke’s voice remained unconcerned, but his hand was squeezing his pen so tight, he’d probably shattered it.
“But none of us will kill you for spending time with her.” He pulled open the door. “Track her down, taunt her into a sparring session. It’ll get you skin-to-skin contact.”
Hawke’s eyes were pure wolf when they met Riley’s. “I don’t think so.”
Riley looked at his alpha and gave a slight nod. “Yeah, I see your point.” A little contact would only enflame the wolf. “You need to draw some blood?” It was an honest offer, wolf to wolf, frustrated male to frustrated male.
“Not yet.” Putting down his mangled pen, Hawke shoved both hands into his hair, leaving a streak of bright blue ink on the pale strands. “You’ll find me when I do.” He sounded disgusted.
Riley shrugged. “It’s my job.” Being the senior lieutenant was about more than responsibility to the pack. It was about responsibility for the alpha as well. With Hawke unmated—and likely to remain so—Riley had to make sure the other man never went too close to the edge. Hawke, in turn, kept a watchful eye on him, too.
Now the alpha raised his head. “You’re so fucking calm you fool everyone else, but don’t fool yourself, Riley. You’re in no better condition than I am.”
Leaving Hawke to his own demons, Riley got changed into workout gear, found an empty training room, and began to go through his usual sparring routine, but without a partner—he was in no mood to hold his punches. Hawke could’ve taken him, but his alpha already saw too much. He didn’t want to betray anything else.
“Riley?”
“Go away.” He’d heard Brenna enter, had decided to ignore her.
But Brenna had never been easily dissuaded. “Drew said you’re not sleeping well—that you were up most of last night.”
He went through a vicious series of moves and ended a foot from her, breath calm, eyes furious. “Drew has a big fucking mouth.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” She grinned, but there was worry in those magnificent eyes she’d turned from a scar to a badge of courage. “Riley, is this . . . I . . .”
Scowling, he closed the distance between them to cup her cheek. “It’s not about you.” Her hurt haunted him, but he wasn’t going to put that weight on her back. That was his cross to bear. “I’m not sleeping because I want sex.”
Her mouth dropped open. Then she went bright red. “Too. Much. Information!”
Satisfied at having distracted her from the past, he raised an eyebrow. “You did ask.”
“Argh.” She rubbed at her temples. “Am trying to erase image from mind.”
His temper lessened at her theatrics. “What, you think I’m a monk?”
“Might as well have been,” she said with a shrug. “You haven’t been with anyone for months.”
“And that’s not too much information?”
“That’s looking after my brother.” She poked him in the chest. “And if you’re—you know—why don’t you go and do something about it?”
He stroked a hand down her hair, reassuring himself for the millionth time that she was still alive, still breathing. God, he felt for Dorian. The other man’s sister hadn’t come back. That heartbreaking truth was why Riley had allowed Dorian to strike the killing blow when they’d hunted down the monster who’d stolen so much innocence. “You think it’s that easy?”
“You’ve got confidence leaking out your pores.”
“The bigger the ego,” he muttered, repeating something Mercy had said to him, “the louder they pop.”
Brenna laughed. “You never had an ego problem, Riley. You had a responsibility problem. You didn’t even go away to roam—you were always there for me and Drew.”
“You were more important. And Pack centers me.”
“Maybe now’s your time to roam?” She grinned at him. “With a certain redhead.”
“Out,” he said, pushing her to the door. “There are some things little sisters don’t need to know.”
He shut the door on her grinning face, but as he went back to his routine, his mind circled back to the problem that had driven him here in the first place—the gulf that would always separate him from Mer
cy. His wolf was blood-loyal to the pack, to his people. Her leopard felt the same about DarkRiver.
He knew all that.
And still he wanted her with a fury that made him snarl at the idea of any other male laying a hand on her.
CHAPTER 31
The men and women tapped for the second San Francisco operation were loyal, had reasons to be loyal.
“A Psy killed my family,” one man said to his workmate, “but the Council covered it up, said there was no violence among their race. They made it seem like my father killed my mother.”
“Fucking bullshit,” his teammate muttered. “They’ve got those Jax junkies, strung out on the streets. That’s violence—they’re killing themselves every time they mainline that stuff.”
“I never thought about it that way,” the first man said, “but you’re right.” A pause. “Why did you sign up?”
“I’m sick to death of being at the bottom of the food chain.” A shrug. “Maybe we succeed, maybe we fail, but no one will ever dismiss us again.”
“DarkRiver and SnowDancer know we’re here,” his partner replied. “I almost got caught today.”
“We lost a bunch of supplies, too—no one can get near the pickup point.” A word that turned the air blue. “People are making mistakes. We do that, we might as well give it up.”
“You really think we can pull this off in wolf and leopard territory?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “They’re searching for a needle in a haystack.”
“Where do I put the wire?”
“Here.” The explosives expert completed the low-tech but stable bomb and handed it off to the third man. “You know what to do?”
The man nodded. “I’ll make sure no one sees me.”
“Hey,” the first man said. “Why are you here?”
For a minute, the other man was silent. Then he said, “One of them wanted something I knew. I wouldn’t give it to him. So he tore into my mind and took it.”
The word wasn’t used, but they all knew it—rape. The Psy had been getting away with it for far too long. Now they would pay. And if this attempt failed, the Alliance would rise again. And again. And again.