Soul Deep

Chapter Three

Babysitting duty sucked. Kiowa sat back in the seat of the luxurious Lexus and watched the little demoness hand out candy like royal favors and stifled a growl of arousal. He had been at this for a week now, and her effect on him was damned inconvenient. And that costume wasn’t helping matters any.

She smiled at the kids, her face lighting up with pleasure at each one that came to her door, only to become smoothly polite while talking to the parents. She held herself aloof, in control, but he could sense a fire simmering inside her.

Damned woman, watching her hadn’t been his brightest move. He should have told Dash Sinclair to take a damned hike when he tracked him down and asked him to join this insanity. The world was not going to accept Breeds. President Marion could vote a hundred Breed Laws in and it wasn’t going to make a difference. They were too different. But Dash and Callan Lyons were certain it could happen. Just as they were certain Kiowa could help.

He snorted at that. A coyote consorting with lions and wolves. What was next?

He shifted in the leather seat, readjusting his cock and grimacing at the engorged length. Just what he needed, a hard-on for the President’s sweet little daughter. That was guaranteed to get him hunted and killed like the mangy animal he was created to be, he thought mockingly.

As Kiowa watched the front door, it suddenly swung open, a woman’s strangled scream barely reaching him as it closed just as fast. His eyes moved to the door beside her, the duplex her Secret Service unit was using was dark and quiet. No lights came on; no alarm was sounded.

His gaze narrowed as he scanned the nearly deserted street now. Trick-or-treaters were on the street above and below, but there was no one close enough to hear that abrupt cry. Cursing, he pulled the Glock from the waistband of his pants and exited his vehicle quickly. Ducking, he made his way around the cars, then the side of the fence that enclosed the little two-story duplex.

They wouldn’t take her out the front door; they would have a car at the back. Dammit, where the hell were her bodyguards, the inept Secret Service detail assigned to her? He personally didn’t need this shit. He was supposed to be backup, nothing more, not the damned cavalry.

As he moved through the shadows, rounding the fence carefully, he caught sight of the van and the driver waiting impatiently, a black mask pulled over his face. Kiowa moved through the shadows, inhaling the crisp night air to be certain there were no other guards outside. His vision picked up the driver, but no other signs of a partner in the van.

Stupid. Stupid, he raged silently as he quickly silenced his weapon and fired. The guard slumped over instantly at the same moment the back gate opened. Moving swiftly along the side of the fence, Kiowa jerked the first man past the gate, his arms going around his head and twisting quickly. He dropped the body before the sound of the hollow break finished. The second man, surprised, was just as easy to take out. Ducking, he barely avoided a bullet before firing back and taking out the third. Didn’t take those boys long to figure out they were caught, he thought mockingly.

Dogs were howling now, voices raising as the fourth man moved to lay his gun at the temple of the unconscious woman he was holding.

Training could be a wonderful thing, Kiowa thought distantly as extended his arm and fired first, before catching the burden the assailant carried as he fell.

Now what? Goddammit, he didn’t need this.

Throwing her over his shoulder, he moved to the van, jerked the dead driver from his seat to the ground and moved in himself. He tossed the girl on the floor of the van, revved the engine and pulled out as lights began to flood the street.

Fuck, he really didn’t need this. He was just supposed to watch her. Just watch her and make sure the Goof Troop didn’t bungle their job and let the blood supremacists stalking President Marion make an attempt on her.

The Secret Service detail was experienced. They were old hands at protecting First Daughters. The best of the best and they were fucking dead as hell or sleeping on the job and now he was stuck with the Baby Girl.

He’d drop her off somewhere, make a quick little phone call to the nearest police station and that would be that. Easy. Simple.

Bullshit.

If the bastards had got to her this easy then there was some major shit getting ready to hit the fan. No one, but no one, got to the President’s daughter that easy without inside help. Shit.