He had his plans in place. The investigator could provide the background he needed, then Dash would finish the job.
“So you can do what?” Commander Thomas leaned back against his chair, watching him with a frown.
“You’ll be assigned a new unit…”
“I was given the option to return stateside on deactivation.” It was all he could do to keep from snarling.
“I won’t be returning to duty, Commander. I’ve had enough.”
Surprise glittered in the commander’s eyes, and Dash knew why. He had been in the service since he was eighteen. He hadn’t once taken a deactivation. Twelve years he had given to first the Army and then to the Special Forces Units. He was one of the best, a natural leader and a savage fighter. But he’d had enough. The unit he had fought with for over a year was gone. The little girl and the mother who had seen him through the need for death were gone. He needed justice. He needed a way to balance the scales and then he needed to find the part of himself he had hidden for most of his life. The commander sighed wearily before nodding. “I’ll call him tonight. You’ll have what you need.”
He rose to his feet, staring down at Dash for long, silent moments.
“Vigilantism is a crime. You know that, don’t you Dash?” he asked him cautiously. Dash smiled. A slow baring of his teeth that he knew the commander would recognize. Dash was one of the best for a reason. He knew what he was doing. And he knew how to do it right.
“They have to catch you first,” he said softly.
While he waited on the information, he worked on completing his recovery. He was rarely still. He worked his body and his mind constantly, making certain each were in peak condition. When word came through that the information was being sent to the stateside location Dash had chosen, he packed his duffle bag and prepared to leave.
Several days before his release, his strength renewed, his mind on returning to the States and armed with enough information to begin a slow, steady hunt, an unfamiliar letter arrived. He knew the handwriting, not the name. His heart stopped when he read the letter within the plain envelope.
I know you must have lots of other little girls to love. Momma says you must be married with children and don’t need us. But I need you Dash. Please help me and my Momma before the bad guys get us again. I used to be Cassidy Colder, but Momma says now my name is Cassie Walker. Walkers okay I guess. And here. This is Bo Bo’s Kercheif. So you know it’s me. Momma says you will think the splosion got us. It hurt Momma, but we’re okay. Please help us Dash.
It had been hastily scrawled and it sent terror chasing down his spine. Inside was the locket he had sent her for her eighth birthday, a picture of herself and her mother inside. The mother looked haunted. Big
blue eyes stared in startled awareness at the camera while the girl smiled charmingly. The small red kerchief had been wrapped around a little teddy bear’s neck that he had asked Commander Thomas to order for her. Bo Bo, she had named it. He could smell her on it. Baby powder and innocence. But there was another scent, Elizabeth ’s, and it sent his hormones howling. Pure female seductiveness. Dark, sweet, like a summer rainfall.
His eyes narrowed on the picture then, rage shaking his body at the thought of anyone daring to hurt either of them. They were his. And no one dared touch anything or anyone belonging to Dash Sinclair. Before he could stop it, a rumble of pure menace echoed in his chest, a growl of foreboding, a promise of retribution. And the hunt was on. He would go after the enemy later. First…first he had to find the family he had claimed in the darkness of pain. The mate that needed warmth, the child that needed protection. He would find them first. If along the way, a few of the enemy died, too bad. It would be a few less to kill later.
Chapter One
Six Months Later
He was a Wolf Breed. Dash Sinclair had known what he was even before the news exploded around the world six months before. Thankfully, in Dash, the genetics had recessed and were only identifiable on the genetic level, rather than the physical. It was the reason he had been marked for death at a young age. But it was also the reason he had survived after his escape from the labs. He had joined the army at eighteen, had fought and killed and done his best to hide right under the noses of several of the men who had funded his creation. He knew who they were. He had seen them at the labs when he was just a child, remembered their faces clearly. Dash never forgot the face of an enemy. Over the years he had become confident, strong, and aware of his strengths in a way that kept him from making mistakes. He never told anyone what he was. Never took the chance of confiding in friends. Hell, he had never made friends. He was surly on the best of days, and downright dangerous any other time. Most people knew to steer well clear of him.
Right now, he was in the mood for blood. He stood still, drawing in the scents of the small ransacked room, and felt rage wash over him. Over the past six months he had investigated Elizabeth and Cassidy Colder until he knew even the most minute detail concerning them. He had made contacts while in the Forces. Contacts that owed him, and he pulled in each favor he could draw on. Cassidy was a little girl living on borrowed time. A child with a price on her head and a mother fighting to save her. The lengths Elizabeth Colder had gone to save her little girl made his gut tighten in fear. Such a small woman should be protected, cuddled, just as the child should be, not running in fear for that child’s life.
He could smell the little girl’s terror now, her childish tears, just as he sensed her mother’s rage and terror. He snarled silently at the scents, drawing them in, allowing them to fuel his rage. The men chasing them would pay. Eventually.
He picked up a childish jacket, brought it to his nose and drew in deep. Innocence and the smell of baby
powder clung to it. But the fact that it was here and not wrapped around her small body sent chills snaking down his spine. It was damned cold out there. A little one would freeze quickly in weather like this. Not that the jacket would do her much good, ripped in half as it was. He picked up a sweater next and did the same. Ahh, there was a smell a man would die happy to know. Female, fresh and clean, a hint of baby powder, but filled with the delicate scent of womanhood. His. He stared around the room. He wasn’t far behind them and it was obvious they were still several steps ahead of the men chasing them. He snarled softly. He would find the woman and child first. It was too cold, too brutal out there to go hunting for the enemy with no assurance that what was most important was safe first.
The little girl’s doll was ripped apart, stuffing littering the room. Clothes were shredded, books ripped in half. He knew the smell of the enemy now and he smiled coldly as he drew it in, memorizing it, making certain he never forgot it. Cassidy and her mother must have come in after the destruction of their temporary home. A small basket of clothes sat by the door, left forgotten but undamaged. Laundry. Doing the laundry had saved their lives.
He dropped the garments. They wouldn’t be needed after he found them anyway. He had everything they would require packed in the SUV. He had made certain that once he found Elizabeth and Cassie they would want for nothing. He took care of what he considered his and everything inside him screamed out in possession of Elizabeth and her child.
He turned on his heel and moved silently through the room, aware of the hidden bugs placed within it. He had smelled them immediately upon entering the room. His lips twisted into a cold smile. He was dealing with amateurs. There would be little challenge in taking them out when the need arose. The scent of Elizabeth ’s fury and fear went no farther than the door, so he knew she hadn’t taken time to investigate the destruction. She was smart. He had been chasing her for months and only in the past week had he gotten close enough that he knew the end was in sight. She wouldn’t be easy for the others to catch. After he found her, they would never have a hope of capturing her. But first, he had to find her. He left the apartment, moving carefully along the dirty passageways, following her scent down the stairs, then to the basement. There, a small window had been pried open. He reached up and removed a tattered piece of flannel. The woman’s. She had cut herself escaping. Blood marred the soft, worn fabric. But she had been smart. Smart enough to know they would be watching the front entrance. Over the past two years she had grown in strength and instinct, learning to hone the abilities she needed to stay on the run. He sensed that, sensed her ability to use her wits where she lacked physical strength. As he stood there staring at the fabric, his fingers running over the dark stains that marred it, he felt another presence begin to disturb the air that flowed in through the opened door. Dash stilled, his head swinging to the partially opened door as a new scent began to mix with that of fabric softener, detergent and stale water. It was insidious. The smell of corruption and furious intent. It wafted through the cool basement air, digging into his senses, filling him with the need for blood. The enemy was on the prowl, stalking him now, foolishly moving from cover to investigate Dash’s interest. Dash was looking forward to the confrontation.
He stilled the warning growl that rose instinctively in his chest. The smell of cold steel moved closer, the tread of cautious steps. There was only one. He was confident, but filled with fury, and weaker. Dash smiled. The man moving toward him was no more than a flunky. No threat. A hired gun and little more.
Disposable. It was a good thing because he wouldn’t leave the building alive. Silently, Dash waited. He didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open slowly, revealing the lean, tense body of the enemy. He was a man full grown. A Gamma trying to play Alpha with an animal he had no idea existed. Dash allowed his lips to curl into an anticipatory smile, knowing the other man wouldn’t see it for the lethal threat it was.
“Getting nosy, stranger?” the other man grunted as he carefully closed the door and aimed his weapon at Dash’s chest. “Put your hands up where I can see them, and don’t move funny or you’re dead.”
Dash lifted his arms, hands behind his neck, the fingers of one hand curling around the hilt of the large knife concealed in its sheath between his shoulder blades. Oh yeah. Now he could play.
“Just checking some things out.” Dash narrowed his eyes, aware of the gun barrel’s angle, straight to the heart.
A silencer had been attached to the barrel. He was a cautious bastard; Dash gave him credit for that. But only for that. Otherwise, he was less than smart. He should have realized the threat Dash was and killed him instantly. If he could. Instead, he wanted to play. Dash liked to play. And he knew for a certainty that his opponent would fall. It was the way of the beast. He could sense the weakness facing him. Overconfidence glittered in the enemy’s eyes as the need for pain scented the air around him.
“Who are you?” Beady eyes narrowed. Thick, oily brown hair fell forward, framing a less than intelligent forehead.
“No one important.” Dash shrugged as he allowed his lips to curl with insulting mockery. He refused to give respect to a creature so lacking in morality that he would kill a child. “Who are you?”
Dash watched the other man closely, the shift of the lanky body beneath the ill-fitting, though expensive, coat he wore, the confident manner in which he held his weapon. The other man was used to killing and he was used to doing it the lazy way. He wouldn’t expect to face a man of Dash’s capabilities. It was almost too easy, Dash sighed. It was a shame; he would have enjoyed a fight.
“You’re being too nosy, dude.” The surf boy accent grated on Dash’s nerves. The casual disrespect of the attitude was reason enough to kill him.
“Not nosy enough maybe.” Dash watched the other man’s gaze carefully as he allowed his smug smile to deepen. “She got away from you again, didn’t she? Elizabeth ’s smarter than you are, dude. Back off now, before I have to take you down.”
The challenge was made. Dash made certain the insulting derision in his voice was clearly understood. There was no fight here, no conflict. The enemy’s blood would be spilled, period. Angry color filled the other man’s cheeks, his brown eyes glittering with the need for violence as he stepped closer. He would want to be closer, Dash thought, to be certain the bullet killed rather than maimed. To watch the pain and fear he hoped to see spilling into Dash’s eyes as the blood spilled from his chest.