Dawn stared at Cabal for one long, silent moment, until he turned his back on her and moved to stand on the other side of Scheme.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Jolian’s shoulders fell before she lifted her gaze to Tanner. “You left the notes on the table,” she said faintly. “I forgot them. I didn’t want to disappoint you again.”
“Then you should have asked me for them.”
“Come on, Jo, we’ll figure this out downstairs.” Dawn led her to the door before glancing back at Tanner. “Don’t take all day, okay? I have work to do, and if I don’t get it done, I’m not going to be in a good mood.”
Tanner chided her then. “Are you ever in a good mood? I’ll be down later. Make certain Jonas is around as well. I need to talk to him about his guard’s lack of diligence in letting unauthorized personnel on the family level.”
The door closed behind Dawn with a snap as Scheme felt the tension emanating from both men now.
“Not her,” Scheme muttered as Tanner stalked to his dresser, jerked the electronic bug detector from inside and began running it over the room.
Cabal moved to the small table and began sorting through the small stacks of paper there.
“You don’t know it’s not her,” Cabal responded, his voice grating. “You didn’t see a name on those files, remember? And she was trained in infiltration.”
“And failed.” Scheme rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Do you have any idea how many kill orders I shredded on that girl? She failed every program they put her in. What is she? Twenty-four now? She was lucky she didn’t have a stroke during the rescues. The girl is terrified of her own shadow.”
“No, she’s not.” Cabal flipped a notebook to the love seat beside him. “There’re the interview notes.” His gaze was cold as they latched on to Scheme. “Don’t let her fool you. I’ve seen her when no one is watching. She’s rather organized when she thinks she’s alone.”
Scheme shook her head. “It’s not her.”
“Drop it,” Tanner ordered firmly. “You don’t know who it is and neither do we.”
“Cabal just found the notes she was looking for. That poor girl, you nearly scared the life out of her, you know.”
“And she could have nearly fucking killed you.” Tanner gripped her arm, turning her to face him as the fury in his eyes lashed at her. “Stop protecting someone you know nothing about.”
“And stop treating me like a twit that doesn’t know any more than that scatterbrained little Panther you just terrorized.” She jerked away from him, striding across the room before facing both of them with cold resolve. “I’m a profiler, Tanner. I know my job. And I know that girl is the last one who would ever attempt to spy on anyone. The damned notes were on the table, just like she said.”
“Convenient.” His lip lifted in a snarl.
“Convenient or not, you’re wrong. I know my stuff, and I know it’s not her.”
“Good, you know your stuff, Miss Profiler,” he growled. “Use it. Tomorrow evening Callan and Merinus are hosting a little party for our mating and upcoming marriage. Find our spy, then I’ll stop suspecting every Breed trained in espionage and infiltration that I catch going through my personal room. How does that one suit you?”
“About as much as sleeping alone tonight,” she informed him sweetly. “Just damned fine.”
“Sleeping alone?” His arms crossed over his chest as he glanced at the bed. “You go ahead and try it, sweetheart. You’re already burning as hot for me as I am for you. Neither one of us will make it another ten minutes before I have you flat on your back and my dick buried as deep inside your body as you can take me.”
Her face flamed almost as hot as her body.
“Cretin,” she snapped.
Tanner growled, his lips pulling back from his teeth as he pushed his fingers through the fall of sun-streaked black hair that fell around his face. Cabal grunted before moving to the connecting door between the two suites.
He didn’t speak. No good-bye, go to hell, catch you later or anything similar. When he entered his own room, the door closed so quietly she didn’t even hear the snick of the latch.
“Look.” Scheme finally inhaled deeply. “Just give her the benefit of a doubt before you do anything harsh. You asked me to trust you; now I’m asking you to trust me. I’m telling you, you lock that kid up in a cell and terrorize her, and you’ll regret it.”
“Beats regretting the possible consequences if I don’t. Your death,” he pointed out.
“Trust me, Tanner. She’s not your spy.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on it?” he asked her then.
Was she? Was she ready to put herself that firmly on the line for a Breed she knew only through her lab files? Lab files filled with failures, punishments, and years of living with the knowledge that she would die because of those failures. Even the psychologists assigned to try to mend whatever was broken within the girl to make her productive hadn’t been able to fix her.
Jolian Brandeau was one of the few Breeds that clearly stood out in Scheme’s mind. Because everything in her initial psych files had pointed to a strong, adaptable Breed female. But nothing in her performance had proved it.
“At this point,” she finally answered him, “I’m not willing to bet my life on anyone but you and Jonas. But something tells me you and Cabal had better walk a very fine line with that kid, because breaking her would be easier than you believe.”
“And you say that because of her files,” Tanner pointed out. “Files that could have been wrong, Scheme. I could smell her guilt while she stood there facing us. I could smell her attempts to hide something. Files are not always right.”
“No, I say that because of her eyes,” she said softly. “She has very sad, very old eyes, Tanner. And whatever was going on here, whatever she was hiding, it wasn’t an attempt to kill. Your harsh attitude with her hurt her. That’s not something that can be faked as easily as you think it can be. Don’t focus on her and risk overlooking the real threat.”
“I’ll overlook nothing. No one.” Before she could evade him, he had her in his arms; his hands were tugging at her sweatshirt as he pressed her against the back of the love seat, jerking the sweatshirt up and over her head before he moved to her pants. “Because I’d die without this.”
His hand cupped between her thighs, causing her to lift to her tiptoes as sensation slammed inside her. Pleasure. Oh God, the pleasure was so intense that sometimes she felt she would die from it.
“Feel that,” he rasped, his fingers massaging her wet flesh, stroking her, sending tendrils of sensation to race through every nerve ending. “Feel it, Scheme. Do you want to lose this forever?”
Before she could answer, before she could form a coherent reply, his lips were on hers and he was bracing her on the back of the love seat, spreading her thighs, releasing his cock and pressing between the saturated folds of her sex.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her knees tightened on his hips, as he began to work inside her. Stroke her, stretch her. And bind her soul tighter to him.
She could feel that each time he touched her. Each time she felt his kiss on her lips, ravishing her, sipping at the passion that rose between them, hotter, wilder, more intense than anything she had ever known in her life.
Yes, the mating heat stole control. But Tanner had stolen her control before this heat had ever begun. He had stolen her heart. No matter what came later. No matter what happened in the future, she knew she had found something more than blinding desire and heated lust.
She had found Tanner.
She had found trust.
As his hips moved between hers, his tongue tasted her, let her taste him. The mix of rich, dark desire and stormy passion filled her senses. The taste of him was exquisite. She needed more. She craved more.
His pelvis caressed her clit with each stroke, rasped against it, sensitized it as his cock began slamming inside her, thrusting so hard and deep she was screaming her pleasure into his kiss. Screaming, begging with each cry, then tearing her lips from his as her orgasm exploded through her.
The pleasure was rich and hot, washing through her with the force of a tidal wave and leaving her shaking, shuddering in the wake of a release she still couldn’t get used to. It was like this every time. Each time he touched her, took her, possessed her. Riotous and soul-deep. Profound satisfaction and an intimacy that shook her to her core.
“Be careful, damn you,” he panted at her ear then, his hands caressing over her as he lifted her and carried her to his bed. “Please God, Scheme, let me protect you. Let me keep you safe.”
She smiled as he lay down and pulled her close to him, tucking her against his sweat-dampened body as his arms held her tight, possessively.
“How about I let you help protect me?” she asked then. “Don’t discount me, Tanner. I’ve survived ten years on the Tallant estate. I can’t just sit back and wait for you to fix everything now.”
“And I can’t handle the thought of you being in danger,” he argued. “Your father will stop at nothing to kill you, Scheme. He deals in positives. He didn’t kill a Breed without proof that he was a failure. He doesn’t kill his people without proof of betrayal. He knows you’ve betrayed him now. He won’t miss an opportunity to take you out.”
“But it will have to be dealt with personally. I’m his daughter. He won’t tolerate another killing me now. Not after I escaped Chaz. Chaz was the only one he trusted to kill me with mercy, other than himself. He’ll have to do it himself, Tanner. Nothing else will satisfy him.”
She had given it a lot of thought, had considered each possibility and the placement of the spy in Sanctuary. It was dangerous, and there was always a chance she could be wrong, but she had never been wrong before, despite her deliberate mistakes. She was a better profiler than even her father understood. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Cyrus would have to kill her himself. He might not realize it yet. And Tanner might not believe it. But when it came right down to it, it would eat her father alive. He would have to punish her himself. He was her father. No one else had the right.
“He’ll never get you out of Sanctuary,” Tanner swore.
She hoped he couldn’t. But she knew her father, and she knew he had managed to do many things that others had believed impossible.
CHAPTER 27
Sanctuary was a cross between a loose-knit community and an armed camp. All around the twelve-acre main compound was a thick iron fence posted with guards. Outside that area, small cabins sprawled in an orderly abandon into the mountains surrounding the main estate.
The cabins were built to blend into the forest, rather than forcing the forest to accommodate the small cabins. Everything was orderly and neat on the outside, but Scheme knew that on the inside, the souls of those who lived here screamed out at the horrors they had escaped.
Enough time hadn’t elapsed since the Breed rescues. Many still moved around as though uncertain of their freedom, always looking over their shoulders, crouching at the least sign of danger. And many were so young.
Most of the surviving Breeds had barely been in their early twenties when they were rescued. As Breeds aged, the Council had learned, they were much harder to control. It was extremely rare for a Breed of any species to survive past thirty. As though that age clicked some mental switch within them, they became deadly.
“The fenced area holds the house, communications, supplies, weapons and the garage.” Tanner pointed out the buildings. “Seth Lawrence, the majority shareholder in Lawrence Industries, has supplied most of the building supplies.”
“And Vanderale Industries supplies weapons, vehicles and satellite access,” Scheme finished for him. “That’s aside from the various corporations that donate money yearly for food, clothing, travel and other expenses. Sanctuary also lines its coffers with the exorbitant rate it charges for Breed support in a variety of operations both military and private. Sanctuary has learned that it holds several exceptional artists who, through their paintings and drawings, have depicted the horrors the Breeds endured in captivity for the world, gaining it multinational support.”