Branded by Fire

CHAPTER 45

Several hours after the wrench of leaving him, Mercy tracked Riley to the former Alliance hideout on the Embarcadero. His wolf flashed into his eyes when he saw her, and it was all she could do not to press close, and simply savor the warm masculine scent of him.

It wasn’t professionalism that held her back. It was the knowledge that to do what she craved would be to torment them both. “What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“I always do a pass through here in case one of them doesn’t realize it’s been made. Might get a new trail.” His gaze never moved off her, his jaw a brutally hard line.

Such control had to hurt.

She couldn’t let him hurt. Closing the distance between them, she stood so they brushed shoulder to thigh. He sucked in a breath, his hand shifting to lie on her lower back. “I can’t be near you and not touch.”

She nodded. “Who were we kidding?” The humor was fragile, the truth inescapable. “But that’s not why I came.”

Riley watched as his cat took out a small datapad and pulled up a map of the city proper. “Something bugs me about the tips we’ve had about possible Alliance movements.” She overlaid the map with the location of those tips. “If we remove the clear outliers, and focus only on the tips that really had some substance behind them, we end up with this.”

He leaned in, until the wildfire vitality of her filled his every breath. “A very rough circle.” He studied the diagram. “It’s still a massive area. Includes the warehouse Bowen and his group are using.”

“I know, but all this”—she waved a hand—“the bomb making, the cloak-and-dagger stuff—seems too coordinated for a small hit like that.” She pulled out a laser pen and began making Xs. “If it’s revenge they’re after, for the squad we took out, they could hit our pack HQ, the central CTX station, a couple of other places, but most of our stuff is spread farther out—toward Yosemite.”

“You think it has to do with the Psy. That corpse?”

“Yes, and because then, the centralization makes sense. Plenty of Psy targets in the city.” She annotated major Psy institutions, including banks and, nauseatingly, schools.

He knew why—the Alliance had given them no reason to believe it had a conscience.

“But why San Francisco?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate. “It’s not a logical choice—we know to be on the lookout for them. We’ve already disrupted their operations to a degree.”

Mercy pursed her lips in a way the wolf found fascinating. He’d never seen that expression before, never seen that facet of her. “A particular target?” She shook her head almost at once. “There’s nothing unique about these places. They’re important and it’ll cause chaos on a major scale if they go down, but the Alliance could find the same caliber of target in New York, Los Angeles, a dozen other cities.”

The wolf came to attention. “But we do have one thing no other city does.” Taking the pen, he put an X on one of San Francisco’s most well-known buildings.

“Nikita?” Mercy’s mouth dropped open. “No.”

“What better way to leave a mark?”

“Flaming idiots!” she yelled, igniting without warning. “Whoever the fuck is driving this operation needs to have their head examined, preferably after it’s been ripped off! No way would anyone be this much of an imbecile!”

To Mercy’s surprise, Riley chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss against her parted lips. “God, my mom would’ve loved you.”

Her heart almost stopped. “Riley?”

“She was a lieutenant,” he told her, his voice husky. “So was my dad. They died defending the pack.”

She turned to wrap her arms around him. “They were protectors.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzled into her neck, as if soaking in her scent. “My dad, he was the strongest man I ever knew, but he used to turn to putty in Mom’s hands.”

“That sounds like the perfect mating.”

He chuckled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn straight.” Kissing his neck, and smiling at his responsive shiver, she hugged him extra tight. “I think your mom and dad would’ve been so proud of the man you’ve become. If I ever have a son,” she whispered, “I want him to be like you.”

He shuddered. “We’ll figure it out, kitty cat. Somehow.”

She was about to respond when her cell phone rang.

A tenseness filled his body. It was gone an instant later. “Answer it,” he said. “You’re a sentinel.”

The leopard batted at him with playful humor. “Damn, but you’re trying to be good, Kincaid.”

“Glad you noticed.”

His hands settled around her hips as she dug out her phone. “Hello?”

“This is Bo. Lucas told me to call you directly if I found anything.”

It was a vote of confidence from her alpha and she appreciated it. “What have you got?” She slapped a hand on Riley’s chest when he started to growl, having heard Bowen because of the way they were pasted together.

“I think I know why they’re building bombs.”

She dug her claws into Riley this time, shooting him a “hush” look. He winced and toned it down; however, she could all but feel his need to tear Bowen’s throat out with his bare hands. “How good is your intel?”

“Good but not foolproof. The chairman’s been known to shut others out of the loop.”

“Who’s the target?”

“Not target. Targets.” And then he told her the names.

Mercy closed the phone and stared at Riley. “Someone is that much of an imbecile. I don’t believe it.”

“If he’s right and they succeed, it’ll plunge the world into wholesale war.” Riley was already pulling out his cell. “I’ll call Faith.”

Mercy nodded and pressed the quickcode for Sascha. “Pick up, Sascha. Pick up.”

Sascha closed the cell phone and swallowed. It rang in her hand moments later. “Lucas?”

“Sascha, I can feel you hurting. What is it?”

And that quickly, her terror was buried under a flood of love. “I need to get hold of Nikita.” She relayed what Mercy had told her.

“Damn.” A pause. “You want me to call?”

“No, I’ll do it. I’ll call you after.” Hanging up, she coded in a number she’d never expected to use again.

Nikita answered on the first ring. “You got my package.”

“It’s not about that.” She kept her tone even with effort—Nikita didn’t understand her daughter’s emotional nature. She probably never would. But she was still Sascha’s mother. “We’ve had a tip that Councilors have all been targeted for assassination. Check the building for explosives.”

It was a reflection of the world she lived in that Nikita didn’t argue, just hung up after telling Sascha she’d get back to her. Shaking from the impact of that short conversation, the first nonbusiness one she’d had with Nikita since her mother disowned her, Sascha slid down the aerie wall and to the floor. Tremors shifted over her body from head to foot.

She wanted Lucas. I need you. A thought sent through the mating bond, needy and vulnerable. It was as if she’d lost all her strength, become the fractured creature she’d been after she first learned what had been done to her, how her gift had been stifled, her mind almost destroyed. Lucas.

Her mate’s love moved to surround her, comfort her, hold her. She closed her eyes and wrapped that feeling around her very senses, cocooning herself in the savage wildness of him. But a footstep sounded on the balcony what felt like an instant later, breaking her concentration. She looked up to see a striking blond male with the mark of a sentinel tattooed onto his arm. And she knew Lucas had sent him.

Dorian sat down beside her. “Hey.” When he put his arm around her shoulders, she resisted. “Come on, Sascha darling.” A gentle tease. “You’ve helped me more times than I can count. Just think of me as Luc’s stand-in.”

Softening, she let him hug her. “What about Ashaya?” The other woman was both Psy and newly mated. She might not understand that at this moment, Dorian was simply giving a packmate what she needed to hold herself together until her mate got to her.

“She’s seen inside me, seen how you helped me stay sane—”

“You did that yourself.” He’d always been impossibly strong.

He squeezed her. “I’m saying she understands. She’s the one who sent me to you.”

“I thought—Lucas?”

“I got his call after Shaya’s. She felt something from you in the Net.” He rubbed his cheek over her hair. “We get to look after you sometimes.”

Giving in, she turned into his hold, but other than asking him to call Vaughn to make sure Faith had gotten a message to her father, she said nothing . . . not until Lucas appeared in the doorway. She was barely aware of Dorian leaving, her eyes focused on Lucas. He was sweating, his T-shirt soaked. Tearing it off, he threw it to the side and scooped her up into his lap as he sat down on one of the huge cushions that served as their sofas.

Once, she would’ve considered her need for him a flaw, a weakness. Today, she all but crawled into him, the scent of him as familiar to her as the sound of her own heartbeat.

“I’m all sweaty,” he murmured some time later.

She pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “You look good sweaty.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “You must’ve broken a few speed records getting here.” He’d been in the city office, which meant he’d driven as far into the forest as he could, then run the rest of the way on foot.

“We’ll be paying fines till the next century.” A stroke down her back. “You okay?”

“It hit me hard. Hearing her voice.” She swallowed. “I’ve been avoiding any business meetings with her lately and you’ve been letting me.”

“We all get a few free passes.” Another stroke. “She say anything to hurt you?”

“No. She’s checking for explosives.” A tear streaked down her cheek even as she finished that sentence. “What’s wrong with me?” Frustrated, she dashed away the streak of wet. “I’m not this weak! I’m an alpha’s mate!”

“Hey.” Lucas grabbed her fisted hand. “You had a shock, the adrenaline’s probably still screaming through your system.”

“No.” She shook her head, scowling even as another tear escaped her control. “This is too much. I’m not this fragile, not anymore.” And it was true. She should’ve been able to handle Nikita without falling apart. “My emotions have been seesawing all over the place the past few days.”

Lucas went very quiet against her. Then he buried his face in the curve of her neck and breathed deep. The joy that shot through her an instant later was so pure, so beautiful, and so utterly protective that she turned in his arms, eyes wide. “How can you know?”

His smile was fierce. “I know.” His arm tightened as one hand spread over her abdomen. “I know.”

Putting down the briefcase he’d carried in, Kaleb took off his suit jacket and removed his tie before opening the first few buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. He never ever did the latter while outside his home.

No one could be allowed to see the mark on his forearm. Most would have no idea what it meant. Perhaps no one would know. But the PsyNet was the biggest data archive in the world—he couldn’t take the chance that someone, somewhere, knew the story behind the mark. The room had been processed by Enforcement, after all. There had to be pictures, though they wouldn’t have found DNA. Santano Enrique had been too careful for that. And he’d taught Kaleb everything he knew.

Now, having neutralized the threat from the humans, Kaleb considered his next move. The men had been from the Human Alliance, but unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to tear their secrets from their minds. First, they’d had some kind of a block, and second, the instant he eliminated the first, the others had all been killed by remote.

He looked at the chip in his hand. Each intruder had had one in the back of his neck. Clearly, it was equipped with some kind of a suicide strategy—or perhaps murder was more apt. But why would the Alliance target Kaleb? Not that their reasoning mattered. The assassins had signed their death warrants the instant they set out to destroy the house.

Because this wasn’t truly Kaleb’s house. He was only a caretaker. And he took his responsibility very, very seriously.

Mercy got off the phone with Vaughn and blew out a breath. “Faith’s father is safe,” she told Riley as they stood in the driveway to her parents’ home. Dinner had come up on them so fast, they’d hardly had time to shower—luckily, Riley had begun to carry an overnight bag in his vehicle. Mercy’s cat was a little leery of that hint of permanency, but not enough to take a step back. Not now. Not when the vines around her heart had grown so fiercely strong. “They found explosives at a building where Anthony was supposed to have a meeting at tonight.”

Riley glanced at her, eyes contemplative. “How about Nikita?”

“A charge hidden in the elevator shaft—the working theory is that someone hacked into the surveillance system, intending to detonate the charge once Nikita was inside. Since she lives on the penthouse floor, it was a smart plan.”

Riley shook his head. “How is she still alive?”

“Blind luck. She made an unplanned trip to New York last night, and went straight from the airport into negotiations on the mezzanine floor when she got back today. The other party kept her longer than estimated. Almost certainly saved her life.”

“Judd hasn’t been able to get in touch with his contact, but we should get more information when he does.”

“Never thought we’d be helping Councilors stay alive.” Mercy reached over to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen across his face in a gesture that seemed exquisitely familiar, exquisitely theirs. Heat arced through her fingertips, and it took her a second to realize she’d closed the distance between them until their bodies met.

“You’re connected to Nikita and Anthony through Sascha and Faith,” Riley said, his hands closing over her hips. “You couldn’t let a packmate lose a parent.”

“No,” she agreed, wondering what he’d say if he knew Anthony’s true loyalties, wishing she could tell him. “But I think I’d have done the same even if we didn’t have Faith and Sascha in the pack—after Marshall Hyde’s recent assassination, I don’t think the world could survive the shock of losing a second Councilor.”

He stood there and let her run her fingers through his hair, over his jaw, along his lips. “You’re right,” he said, eyes going wolf on her. “Much as I hate the Council’s guts, the Psy are still the most influential race on the planet—if they crash and burn, we’ll all pay the price.”

“And the Net’s not ready,” Mercy said. “That’s what Sascha, Faith, and Ashaya all say. Too much too soon and millions of innocents could die.”

“It’s like the Alliance wants to destabilize the world.”

Putting both arms around him, she drew in the scent of him until it was in her very veins, twined with her own. “My theory—someone smart but morally corrupt has a thirst for power.”

“Much easier to become king if the world’s in chaos,” Riley said, his lips brushing her own as his hands pressed her flush against his muscular frame.

“Hmm.” She was rapidly losing interest in the conversation, far more—

“Get a room!”