Caressed by Ice

CHAPTER 43

He was sweating. It had taken him two hours to return to the den after Riley had sent him on some bogus training exercise. After Brenna was dead, he’d return to where he was supposed to be without anyone being the wiser. The perfect alibi.

He glanced at his watch and then at Brenna’s door. D’Arn was leaning against the wall, but the killer didn’t make the mistake of assuming the other soldier wasn’t aware of everything going on around him. Sights, sounds, smells. It was why he’d chosen this hiding spot, in the wrong direction for the air currents to carry his scent.

All he needed was three seconds with that bitch who just wouldn’t die.

He glanced at his watch again, knowing he’d never get a better chance. The Psy was gone and if D’Arn fell for the distraction, Brenna would be alone for at least one crucial minute. More than enough time to take care of business. Another glance at his watch.

Five, four, three, two…one.

D’Arn jerked to a standing alert as the alarm blared through the den. Coded for sound, this one screamed that something had happened in the nursery, something bad enough to require the declaration of a full emergency.

The killer smiled. He had placed the crude bomb to maximize chaos—by collapsing the entrance to the nursery—but had tried to ensure none of the pups would be hurt. He wasn’t a monster.

D’Arn started to run in the direction of the nursery, then hesitated. Brenna’s door opened. “Go!” she yelled. “I’m right behind you. I’m part of the comm team.”

The killer knew that, had seen the emergency roster. Brenna would now zip back inside to grab her emergency communications equipment before racing to the command center to direct operations inside the den.

“Move!” She slammed her door, but the killer knew she wouldn’t have stopped to lock it. If she had, he’d get her as she walked out, her concentration elsewhere.

D’Arn took off at a run, his instinct to protect the young overwhelming everything else. It was what the killer had counted on. The Psy were right—emotions made changelings weak, open to manipulation.

He stepped out as D’Arn disappeared around the corner. He had a very short window of opportunity—too bad he wouldn’t be able to choke the life out of her as he’d planned. He palmed the pressure injector full of one hundred percent Rush and reached for the doorknob. It turned without resistance.

One more second and it would be good-bye, Brenna Shane Kincaid.