Sloane stared at him, raked a hand over his head. “For fuck’s sake, Rowan. When were you going to divulge all of this intel? Things between our two organizations are touchy enough without the commander of the Order’s operation in London willfully interfering in an open JUSTIS investigation. Withholding information, diverting resources, fucking a person of interest--”
Mathias growled at that last charge, even though he was guilty of everything Sloane pointed out. “I want this thing sewn up as much as anyone else--more than anyone, I’d say. But Nova is my responsibility. I don’t want anyone questioning her, or pointing one damned finger at her without coming to me first--”
Sloane studied him through narrowed blue eyes. “Have you drunk from this female? Have you blood-bonded to her?” When Mathias shook his head in denial, Sloane scoffed. “No, but you want to.”
He wasn’t going to refute that. He couldn’t.
While he’d lived a very long life taking his sustenance from willing human females--women who provided sex and nourishment and little more--he’d had no appetite for basic Homo sapiens blood anymore.
Not since he’d first laid eyes on an ink-covered, metal-studded, thoroughly unconventional beauty named Nova.
If he drank from her, a Breedmate, one sip would mean forever.
A concept Mathias was more than willing to explore with her. If she’d have him, and if he managed to find her before the danger on her heels came any closer than it already had.
“It doesn’t matter what I want right now,” he told Sloane and his team from the Order. “I just need to make sure Nova and the boy are safe, and that starts by finding the murdering bastard who was here in this shop earlier tonight.”
With his warriors dispatched to split up and hit the surrounding area streets on foot, and the JUSTIS unit augmenting the search by vehicle, Mathias then turned to Sloane. “The killer didn’t come here looking for Nova by accident. He must’ve had access to the video from the morgue. I know you don’t have a lot of reason to do me any favors right now--”
“No, I don’t,” the JUSTIS officer grumbled. “But lucky for you, I don’t hold a grudge. You want a list of all the eyes that saw that video?”
“And anyone who handled the reports of the dead scarabs,” Mathias added, quirking a brow when Sloane shot him an arch look. “I appreciate it.”
The Breed male grunted. “I’ll go make a few calls. I’ll alert the coroner’s office to the situation too.”
Mathias cuffed his old friend on the shoulder and murmured his thanks as Sloane stepped outside. Alone in Ozzy’s shop, the blood coagulated under the sheet-covered body, and far less potent to his Breed senses, Mathias took a moment to consider everything that had happened that night.
His concern for Nova’s safety, and the need to know that he hadn’t lost her completely, had his emotions combating his warrior instincts most of the time following Ozzy’s murder. And now that he was resolved, a plan being put into place, he realized that something was gnawing at the edges of his mind.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something crucial.
The pieces weren’t quite fitting together for him, and he kept coming back to the fact that something just didn’t feel right.
Sloane walked back inside, slipping his comm unit back into his pocket. “Since you’re begging favors from JUSTIS tonight, you want me to put an alert out on your female? Ordinarily, a missing persons call doesn’t go out until twenty-four hours pass, but I see nothing wrong in bending the rules for a friend.”
“No, but thanks,” he replied, those prickly instincts still nagging him.
As much as he appreciated Sloane’s offer of support, he preferred to keep all eyes focused on finding the killer. And there was a part of him that wouldn’t trust anyone where Nova was concerned.
He thought back to what she’d told him about the things she saw when she touched the dead scarabs in the morgue. “Nova said there was someone else on the dock that night,” he murmured, thinking out loud. “Someone who shot and killed one of the Russians, maybe more than one.”
Sloane grunted. “That’s odd. The only thing we pulled out of the river so far are dead scarabs. Not a single Russian among them.”
“She seemed pretty certain that’s what she saw,” Mathias said. “Which means we’ve got another killer out there.”
“Maybe that’s the guy we need to be looking for tonight,” Sloane suggested. “Was she able to ID anything useful about the guy who shot the Russians?”
“She didn’t say.”
“But she was sure it wasn’t Doyle?”
Every tendon in Mathias’s body went as tight as a bowstring. His veins started to pound. “Yes, she was sure...”
He glanced at Sloane, who had now gone equally still, staring back at him.
“I never told you his name,” Mathias said.
At first, he thought Sloane was going to deny it. But then the big Breed male cocked his head slightly, a wry smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “No. I guess you didn’t.”
Mathias felt sucker-punched. He looked at his old friend in sickened disbelief. “You did this tonight? You would’ve killed her too?”
“It wasn’t about the old man or the girl. They had nothing to do with any of this.” Sloane’s eyes took on a flinty edge. “If you want to blame someone, blame that drunken idiot, Doyle. He’s the one who put the target on their backs. He had no damned business letting himself be seen anywhere people might know him. So, he goes off and gets a tattoo? Fucking humans.”
Mathias dismissed the rant with a snarl. “Tell me what’s going on, Sloane. You and Doyle. It was you with him that night at the docks? What were you two doing? What kind of deal were you trying to make that night?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “My only hand in the deal was to make sure things went smoothly, and that no one got nosy that night.”
“You and Doyle,” Mathias pressed. “You killed all of those people in cold blood?”
“They were scum, all of them. Especially Doyle. I would’ve killed him soon enough too, but your female and the old man here did the job for me.”
“Why? Are you a scarab too?”
“Fuck no,” Sloane spat out. “My only affiliation is to myself.”
“Then how’d you get mixed up in all of this?”
Sloane grinned. “I got paid, friend. I got paid very fucking well to make sure a package reached its destination, and that there were no loose ends.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m the last one.”
“What about Nova?” Mathias said. “Is anyone else after her?”
“No one ever was. I don’t know what her connection was to Doyle or his associates outside London, and I don’t care.” He shrugged. “Far as I’m concerned, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Mathias was relieved to hear it, but still cognizant of the fact that Nova’s past would need to be dealt with at some point. When she was ready. And he meant to be at her side when that day came.
“I have to take you in, Gavin.”
He stared, expressionless. “We both know that’s not gonna happen.”
Slowly, he turned around as if he meant to stroll out of the shop.
Mathias pulled his gun from its holster on his weapons belt. He cocked the 9mm pistol. “Sloane, stop.”
He paused, but didn’t turn around. His arms hung loosely at his sides. “You gonna put a bullet in my back?”
Mathias cursed through gritted teeth. “I’d rather not. But you’re not walking out that door.”
“Okay,” Sloane said after a moment. “I’ll make it easy on you.”
He pivoted suddenly, and Mathias saw that he was holding his own gun. It exploded an instant later, and a fireball of pain opened up in Mathias’s gut.
He fired back.
His bullet hit his old friend between the eyes.
Sloane hit the floor.
Mathias staggered down to one knee, blood pouring out of him.
CHAPTER 10
Mathias walked into the war room of the Order’s London command center that next morning, a bandage wrapped around his bare midsection. His pain was mild, but the gunshot wound that perforated several internal organs was going to take a few more hours to heal.
He hadn’t been happy to be dragged to headquarters by Thane and his other men after he called them back to Ozzy’s shop. He’d wanted to go looking for Nova last night. Turn the city inside-out in order to find her and tell her that Ozzy’s killer was dead and she had no reason to be afraid.
But dawn had been coming fast, and the bullet Gavin Sloane had fired through him had grounded Mathias on base for the rest of the night instead.
The Order’s report overnight of Gavin Sloane’s death in the line of duty had been met with shock by his colleagues at JUSTIS. The fact that the long-time law enforcement officer had been corrupt, on the take from a troubling underworld organization with ties and motives not yet determined, had been a detail Lucan Thorne had decided to omit from any official filings.
Documents had been pulled, photographs and video destroyed, data obliterated. And, where necessary, human minds had been scrubbed of any and all recollection to the contrary of what Mathias’s official statement read.
For all anyone knew outside the Order, Sloane had stumbled upon the scene of a homicide at a Southwark tattoo shop, apparently surprising a pair of perpetrators--one who had a knife, the other a gun. Unfortunately for Sloane, Mathias and his patrol team from the Order discovered the crime too late to save the respected Breed officer, who had been killed with a lucky shot to the head, the criminals having fled the scene.
Never to be seen or heard from again, of course.
As for Mathias and his team, they were already looking into another unusual string of killings.
It seemed someone had begun quietly targeting London’s banking community. Three high-ranking finance executives had been found dead in their homes in the past handful of days--one victim human, the other two Breed. JUSTIS was under immediate and great pressure to make the murders stop before the public found out and began to panic.
Mathias understood the urgency, but his mind was on another unresolved matter of great concern.
He had to see Nova again.
He had to let her know she was safe.
And that she would always be safe, so long as he had breath in his body and blood running through his eternal veins.
He just needed to find her first.
“Nice ink,” Callahan said, strolling into the room to where Mathias sat with a computer tablet, reviewing the intel from the recent murders. The young warrior sat down next to Mathias at the workstation, studying the sword tattoo on his back. “Think your lady will do one for me?”
“I don’t know,” Mathias answered. “What would you want?”
The warrior shrugged. “Something badass, like the one you have.”
“No way,” he said. “That one belongs all to me.”
And so does the woman who created it.
“What about the one you’re drawing on that report, then?”
“Hmm?” Mathias glanced down to where he’d been idly toying with the stylus on the tablet. He didn’t have a fraction of Nova’s talent, but he recognized the symbol immediately.
The rose window from the ruins of Winchester Palace.
One of Nova’s many tattoos.
One that meant something very important to her.
And that was where he would start looking for her as soon as night fell.
~ ~ ~
Nova tucked Eddie into the thin cot in the basement of the cathedral. The poor kid was exhausted. She was too. She sat on the edge of the mattress and smoothed his hair off his drowsy face.
“How long do we have to stay here?” he asked her, his words slurred from the sleep that was already pulling him under.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “For a while. Until I find us someplace better.”
He nodded sleepily. “Okay. Just don’t leave me.”
“Never,” she whispered, realizing only now that she had just stepped into Ozzy’s shoes. They wouldn’t be easy to fill. But she would do her best. She would find a way to give Eddie the same security and support that Oz had given her all those years ago.
God, she missed him already.
Would always miss him.
And she missed Mathias too, although that was a pain she didn’t have to accept.
She could contact him. He’d given her his number. A number she’d tossed in the trash almost the same moment he gave it to her.
Now, she wanted nothing more than to pull that moment back to her. Rewind it. Play it out a different way.
Maybe Ozzy would still be alive.
Maybe she and Mathias would be together.
Maybe she was a fool, losing her heart to someone she’d known only a handful of days.
As Eddie’s soft snores drifted up from his pillow, Nova carefully eased herself up off the bed.
It was early, just past sundown. She was restless, twitchy, even though she hadn’t slept more than a few minutes last night.
She glanced around at the dozens of other similar cots, occupied by men and women and children, a community of all ages and descriptions. She was homeless again. Faced with the decision to either run some more or hide.
She needed space to think. Time to heal after Ozzy’s death and all of the awful things that had surrounded it.
And she needed to feel Mathias’s arms around her, with a desperation she could hardly reconcile.
She’d fallen in love with him.