Branded by Fire

CHAPTER 19

Midmorning the next day, Riley talked to Judd as they supervised several eight-year-olds in the White Zone while their teachers went on a break. “So, did your contact come through?”

“Says the Council’s downplaying any link between the shooter and the other incidents of violence.” His voice was cool, his eyes intent. “It could be the truth.”

Having learned something of how the PsyNet functioned, Riley took a moment to think. “The rebel activities in the Net have anything to do with that?”

His fellow lieutenant nodded. “Silence didn’t magically happen one day—Psy chose it because we were going insane on a phenomenal level. If that Silence is now starting to fragment . . .”

“Then we’re going to see more of this. Like that murder-suicide Dorian found.” An entire family butchered after the head of the family shattered in the most lethal way.

“Yeah.” Judd’s face was bleak.

Riley could understand why. The Laurens had left the PsyNet, but they still cared about those trapped in emotionless Silence . . . and yet that very Silence might be all that was keeping those others alive. “But say it’s not because of the trouble in the Net,” he said. “How high are the chances of that?”

“High,” Judd said to his surprise. “Apparently, there’s evidence the shooter was acting under a compulsion. It’s possible the others were, too.” He glanced at Riley. “If that guy from yesterday survives, we might find out more.”

Riley thought of the images he’d seen. “His brain was all but leaking out his ears—even if he survives, he might not remember anything.”

“But if he was coerced, the telepath who programmed him might’ve left a psychic fingerprint.” A pause. “I won’t be passing on the info about the survivor to my contact.”

“I think that’s a good call—DarkRiver’s being very close-mouthed about their source.” The SnowDancer lieutenant understood their care, but the man didn’t like the evidence of the continued separation between the two packs, seeing in it a solid barrier to his pursuit of Mercy.

“Can’t blame them—trust is an expensive commodity in the Net.”

Riley kicked back a soccer ball that had rolled to his feet. “Your contact, would it be the Ghost?” he said, naming a rebel so notorious, he’d started to become known outside the Net.

“Yes.”

“Do you know who he is?”

Judd watched the children play, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. “I have my suspicions, but he’s been very, very careful. I’m not even going to speculate until he’s ready to blow his cover.”

“Fair enough.” Riley folded his arms. “But you sure his word is gold?”

“He’s dangerous,” Judd said. “Brutal at times. He’d do anything to protect the Psy, lie, even kill. But then, if it concerned the pack, so would Hawke.”

“Point taken.” The SnowDancer alpha had honor, but it came second to defending those under his care. “You think the Council will keep playing meek? We haven’t had any real problems with them for months.”

“They’re up to something. We’ll find out about it sooner or later.” Judd’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the Human Alliance that concerns me right now.”

Riley nodded. The recent slew of violence spoke of an organization that cared little for its own people, much less those they attacked. “Did you find anything in the surveillance footage from the airport?”

“Bowen’s intel was solid—a number of mercenaries got off three different planes from Europe. They’re hiding in our city.”

Riley didn’t ask how Judd had recognized them—the man had been an assassin, after all. “Fuck. That means this isn’t over.”

Learning that mercenaries had entered the city worried Mercy as much as it did Riley, and she conferenced with Clay to make sure the Rats knew what to look for. The spy network run by Teijan, the Rat alpha, and his people, was extraordinary. But the Alliance people were somehow managing to stay under the radar.

Still, after a SnowDancer-DarkRiver discussion, they decided to increase their visible presence in the city. It would let the mercenaries know they were under surveillance, which might be enough to derail their plans.

Since she didn’t have a shift in the surveillance rotation until the next day, Mercy intended to use her time to catch up on her work for CTX, the communications network run by DarkRiver and SnowDancer. She was in the process of upgrading the security protocols for all stations, a vital precaution since CTX was breaking more and more inflammatory stories.

However, first she had to deal with another problem. Tracking Eduardo down to the guest cabin he and Joaquin were using on DarkRiver land, she folded her arms and looked him full in the face. Dark eyes, dark hair, bronze skin, perfect bone structure, sinful smile. “So, you come to me,” he said in deliciously accented English.

And, Mercy thought with inward amusement, the arrogant cat knew precisely how he sounded. After having grown up with three gorgeous younger brothers, there was little she didn’t know about the male ego. “I came to tell you we have no ‘chemistry.’ Zero. Zip. Zilch. So go away.”

His smile changed into something dangerous, determined. “You haven’t given me a chance. Spend some time with me—a mating isn’t always obvious.”

“Eduardo, you’re not an idiot. You have to know I’m with Riley.” She still couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to be his lover. Part of her was convinced it wouldn’t work—they clashed far too often. But another part of her was exhilarated, ready to take on the wolf on every level and then some.

Eduardo shrugged, tone insouciant when he answered. “You don’t wear his scent. You haven’t accepted him as a leopard female needs to accept a male. Means the coast is clear.”

The way he said that disturbed her enough to agitate the leopard. “I might never wear any man’s scent.” The leopard liked running wild. To be tied that intrinsically to another, until their scents melded, was something that made it restless, wary. “But even then, we’d have zero chemistry.”

He stood from his half-sitting position against the railing and gave her a smile that she figured would’ve sent most women into orgasm on the spot. “How about a kiss to test that theory?”

“How about you stay right there.” It was a command. “I need to get to work—and you should go home.”

A very Latin sigh. “You break my heart, Mercy.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone to patch it up for you.” She’d already had a few inquiries from interested parties as to whether “the sexy one with gorgeous eyes” was off-limits. They continued to be a little wary of the “dangerous bite of beautiful.” “I’ve told the women of the pack that you’re free to a good home.”

“Such cruelty.” But he smiled and it was real this time, stripped of the charm he’d used as a mask till then. Eduardo was as lethal as any of the sentinels in her own pack, his protective nature honed to a fine edge—he’d make as possessive a mate as Riley.

She scowled. All this talk of mating was starting to affect her sanity. Riley would never be her mate. Heat aside, she wasn’t what he was looking for, and he was exactly the kind of man who made her cat the most wary . . . in spite of the fact that it was his strength that drew her to him.

A painful paradox.

Maybe she’d been right in what she’d said to Tammy—perhaps she’d never be able to surrender that absolutely to a man, to trust him with that much of herself. It was a real possibility that one day soon, she’d have to watch Riley mate with someone else. Her hand fisted. “Call it what you like,” she said to Eduardo, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He shrugged. “I’ll stay—after all, Joaquin’s still in with a shot.”

Not deigning to answer, she turned on her heel and left, arriving at her current CTX station just after lunch. She had every intention of working with single-minded focus, but couldn’t forget the disturbing ferocity of her reaction to the thought of Riley mating with another woman, a woman who’d have the right to touch him, kiss him, hold him when his demons got too bad. Even now, as she made her way to the garage, the idea made her blood ignite.

“Security cameras, check, weapons detection system, needed,” she muttered in an effort to drown out the cat’s angry hissing. “Can’t do much about Psy teleporters, though. How do you detect someone who poofs in?”

A familiar scent came to her on quiet air currents. “Talking to yourself, big sis?”

She pecked her middle brother, Sage, on the cheek. “I smelled you a mile off, Herb.” It was an old joke, one that never failed to make him scowl.

It didn’t today either. “Ha-ha. This is my I’m-not-amused face.” That done, he put his camera equipment on the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess where I just was.”

Based on the now genuinely pained expression on his face, she said, “Lifestyles of the rich and famous?” Sage normally covered the crime beat.

“Close. I had to sit through an interview with Bibi Pink.” He looked like he was about to throw up. “If she has three brain cells, I’m a frickin’ wolf.”

Mercy’s stomach dipped at the way he said “wolf.” What would her family say if they realized she was consorting with the enemy on a very intimate basis? “Who did you piss off to get on that?”

“Nobody—it was Eamon’s turn to do the celebrity stuff, but he got called out to a shooting at the Berkeley campus. I was the closest to Bibi so I covered.”

“Another shooting?” Frowning, she turned to look at her brother. Sage had inherited the family red hair, but on him, the red was tangled with so much brown, most people didn’t realize he had any red at all until he walked out into the sun. “Details.”

Deep hazel eyes frowned. “Would it hurt you to say please?”

“Would you prefer I broke your arm?” She’d grown up with three little hooligans who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of a closed door. If she’d let them, they’d have swarmed her like a horde of locusts. “Give it up, hotshot.”

“Abuse,” he said, but then gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek, the scent of him a familiar and much loved touch of firs dusted with snow, and the sweet crushed nutmeg of home. He’d hate to be described that way, but that was how she saw him—if Bastien was the rock, and Grey the sea, then Sage was the tide. Fluid. Enduring.

Now he put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m getting this second hand,” he said, “but apparently it was so much of a mess that there’s no way the Council’s going to be able to keep it quiet. Some senior Psy professor put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.”

“Suicide by a Psy is news, but you’re talking breaking news bulletin if Eamon got pulled off schedule. Why?”

“ ’Cause the professor held his physics class captive for twenty minutes beforehand. He shot himself in front of them.”

“Jesus.” Mercy rocked back on her heels, datapad dropping to her side. “You hear of any other episodes like this?”

“I got a buddy up in North Dakota—he says they’ve had a couple of incidents of Psy acting out violently. One guy almost beat another to death before they managed to pull him off. And Garrick, up in Chicago, he’s had a couple of hits on his radar, too.”

Which meant there were probably even more that hadn’t yet filtered down through the grapevine.

“Oh, and this broke a few minutes ago—they found a human male stabbed to death in an alley in Tahoe. Looks like random violence, but it’s the second murder in that area in less than a week. First one was that woman in the shallow grave.”

Mercy nodded, wondering if there was any connection between the two killings. Might be time for Dorian to hack into an Enforcement database. “Thanks, Herb.”

“Cut it out.” Turning, he grabbed her in a full hug, squeezing tight, his forehead lined with a heavy scowl. “Take it back.”

“Puh-leeze. I can flip you in one second flat.”

“And how will you explain the bruises to Mom?”

“Tattletale.” She fought not to smile.

His eyes narrowed, but she saw the cat’s laughter. “Take it back.”

“Or what?” When he bared his teeth in a mock growl and squeezed her even tighter, she blew out a breath. “Fine. I’m sorry. Happy?”

He let her go with a grin that had caught her heart from the moment her mom had first laid him in her arms. “I’m still telling. You know how mad Mom gets when anyone makes fun of our names, Mélisande.”

About to respond, she caught another scent entering the garage. “I’ve got company. Talk to you later.”

Sage’s lip curled in disdain. “Wolf.”

“We have an alliance.” She parroted Lucas. “Now, shoo, baby brother.”

“Nice try but I know you can’t stand this one.” He bent to pick up his gear, missing her guilty expression. “Dinner tonight? Bas just got back from New York, and Grey’s got the night off.”

Mercy nodded, her skin tight with expectation. “Text me the details.” But her attention was on the wolf who’d stroked her into wild ecstasy only yesterday. Her lower body clenched and she all but bit through her tongue to force down the rising wave of arousal. She so did not want Sage picking up on that little bit of info.

Her brother said a civilized hello to Riley as they passed. Riley responded with a nod, then jerked his head toward the exit. She went—no way did she want an electronic audience to their conversation.

“Can’t stay away from me?” she asked when they were safely on the grass verge outside the building. Set in an industrial/ professional area, foot traffic was light, the grass neatly trimmed. It appeared they were alone.

Riley glanced up at the building behind them. “I can feel them watching me.”

“Yep. So don’t try anything funny.” It came out an invitation.

His eyes went dark with a kind of knowledge that made her internal furnace go straight from hot to explosive. “I was passing by, thought you might be interested in some stuff we didn’t discuss on the phone earlier.”

“Passing by?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I went to visit those kids from the burger place, check they were okay.”

Something melted in her heart. “I called them today.”

“Yeah, they said.” He held the eye contact, all calm and solid and practical . . . except for the blazing heat in that gaze. “Your cat wouldn’t leave it alone either, would it?”

“Nope.” It was an integral part of them—that need to protect. “They seem to be doing good. That girl Jen, she’s a smart cookie.”

“She wants to be you when she grows up.”

Mercy grinned. “I forgot to tell you something else—we’re being stonewalled on what exactly Nash is studying.”

“Give the kid a few days,” Riley said. “He might change his mind after he thinks it over.”

“Especially since we only need enough information to protect him properly.” She made a note on her datapad to have Ashaya follow up with Nash—the lynx might respond better to a fellow scientist. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

Riley’s mouth became bracketed by white lines. “Judd got confirmation that someone pushed that shooter to do what he did, some kind of a mental suggestion buried deep in his psyche.”

Damn. Her sympathy for the poor man who’d been made a puppet mixed with a slow-burning anger toward those who used people so heartlessly. “Tempting to call it a Psy internal war and ignore it,” she said, “but it’s affecting everyone.” She told him about the professorial suicide. “He could’ve taken so many kids with him.”

“No way to know if he was programmed.”

“Funny coincidence, though, isn’t it?” She gritted her teeth. “You know, the Human Alliance might consider the Psy their enemy, but they’re fucking twins when it comes to harming innocents.”

Riley’s eyes gleamed amber. “You need to burn it off. Come for a walk.”

Anger exploded under a surge of raw desire. “No, thanks.” Especially when the urge to nibble at that strong throat, that stubborn jaw, was a drumbeat in her skull. And double especially when she was considering the mechanics of tangling limbs in a car.

The wolf was a shadow in his voice. “Scared to be alone with me?”

“Busy.” Despite her racing heartbeat, it happened to be the truth. “I want to finish what I’m doing here since we have some downtime.” And I need to get a handle on this hunger before it creeps into every corner of my life. Because if she fell too deep and then he found his mate . . . Mercy knew herself, knew the soul-destroying pain that would accompany such rejection—she wasn’t good at holding back. If she gave herself to him, it would be with everything in her. “Don’t you have work?”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing himself up so deliciously that she had to fight the leopard’s desire to play with the strands. “Yeah, but it’s with Hawke and he’s in a shit of a mood.”

“Sienna?”

“Who else?”

Mercy thought about the girl who seemed to be the—very short—fuse on Hawke’s temper. “What’s up with those two?”

“He’s my alpha,” Riley said, eyes full of challenge. “I’m not going to talk about him to a leopard.”

“We’re not enemies anymore, remember?” she said, tone arch. “We’re allies.”

“Political allies—our animals still don’t trust one another.”

“Which is an excellent reason for us to stay away from each other,” she said, seeing another glaring truth—her pack was critically important to her life. Being with Riley, that whisper of tenderness growing and twining like a vine around her heart, it held the potential to shake the foundations of her link to DarkRiver.

A sentinel couldn’t give her heart to a onetime enemy/new ally and do her job as the first line of defense for her pack. She had to be able to rip out Riley’s throat if the unthinkable happened and SnowDancer broke the alliance to turn on DarkRiver.

Her stomach roiled with nausea, but her voice, when it came, was calm. “I’m as loyal to my pack as you are to yours.” If those bonds were compromised . . . it would break something fundamental in both of them.

Riley went about his remaining business in the city with impeccable competence, following a checklist in his head. It was the only way he’d found to control the wolf when it got this agitated. Mercy would undoubtedly roll her eyes, but then she had her own ways of controlling things, didn’t she? He’d felt her hunger, hot and slick in the sunshine, and yet she’d denied them both.

The light changed to red in front of him. His car came to an automatic stop.

He slammed a palm on the dashboard as the wolf snapped out, frustrated and angry. And needy. That was the kicker. She’d turned him away, and he was drowning for her. “Fuck.” Thrusting his hands through his hair, he used every one of the tricks he’d learned over the years to calm himself down.

It wasn’t as easy as Mercy might’ve believed. Riley made it a point to be in command of his instincts because he knew what would happen if he wasn’t. His wolf was wild, ferocious, quite capable of killing without a blink if those he loved were threatened. Only with Mercy did he dare let the leash slip a little. And when their bodies joined . . . hell, what leash? But she seemed to like him that way.

“Not enough,” he all but snarled as the car started moving again. The worst of it was, he knew she was right. This wasn’t about them in isolation any longer, it couldn’t be—if it had been just sex . . . but it wasn’t. He’d felt it. So had she. So had his wolf. Now it crouched down in feral anger, but it was also thinking, considering . . . wanting.