Play of Passion

CHAPTER 32

Midmorning the next day, Andrew walked into Hawke’s office just as his alpha finished a conversation with Judd via comm screen. Nodding to his brother-in-law before the screen blanked, he glanced at Hawke. “Where’s Judd?”

“Somewhere in South America.”

The answer wouldn’t have made sense to most people, given that Judd had been in the den until only a couple of hours ago. Only a limited few knew the man was a very powerful telekinetic. Not a true teleporter, but well able to teleport long distances.

“Still nothing to confirm why the transmitters were there?” he asked, grabbing a seat.

“Four possibilities.” Hawke raised a finger, his anger banked but no less lethal for it. “To act as locator beacons for teleportation or airborne vehicles”—a second finger—“a test to see how quickly we’d detect that type of intrusion”—a third finger—“or as markers on where to place explosives.”

Andrew blew out a breath. “Trying to cause a massive rock slide?”

Hawke gave a nod, tapping the scrawled diagram in front of him. “You blow this section, you not only cut off a chunk of our land, any invading army has far less distance to cover to get to the heart of den territory.”

“You said four possibilities. What’s the fourth?”

“We found these so fast, you’d think we were meant to find them.”

“Decoys.” Andrew frowned. “But to what purpose?”

“That’s part of what Judd’s hoping to run down. He’s hearing whispers that say this might be linked to Pure Psy. I’ve also sent the techs back up to scan for anything else that shouldn’t be there.” Shoving his hands through his hair, Hawke clenched his jaw. “Whatever the truth, instinct tells me things are going to come to a violent head sooner rather than later.”

“If Judd does connect the transmitters categorically to Pure Psy,” Andrew said, slotting in the other pieces in his mind, “and we add the e-mails to the mix, then I’m certain the packs haven’t been targeted in isolation, but as part of a campaign against the city as a whole.”

The wolf looked out of Hawke’s eyes when he turned to Andrew. “You found something else.”

“Teijan called me this morning. His people have noticed a steady stream of Psy slipping into the city and setting up house. Some of them don’t appear to have jobs.”

Hawke’s jaw tightened. “Trouble?”

“Not according to what I got from Max after I spoke to Teijan. Seems like word’s gotten out that Nikita has accepted a flawed Psy in her administration.” Max’s wife, Sophia, was still in the Net. And she was no longer Silent.

Hawke thought about the cold-eyed woman who’d disowned her own daughter and knew there had to be something in the stance for Nikita. Either that, or the Councilor was simply waiting for a chance to turn on the poor souls who looked to her for hope. “Are they making waves?”

“Max has an eye on them and says most are only trying to find sanctuary.”

“But it’s going to shift the balance of the city.” And Hawke’s first priority was the safety of his pack. “I’ll talk to Lucas, make sure our own people have the situation under surveillance.”

Drew played a pen over his fingers. “The fact that San Francisco is becoming ground zero for Psy who are breaking Silence . . . well, it explains the dead Psy in the city and on the edges of the state, doesn’t it?”

“Poor buggers got caught up in the crossfire between two Council factions.” Picking up a small ball from the corner of his desk, Hawke threw it against the wall, catching it as it rebounded. “You think we’ve been hit by the crossfire, too.”

Drew nodded. “Judd’s intel is that Henry Scott is out to get rid of Nikita, and we already know Henry controls Pure Psy. And San Francisco might be a changeling city, but it’s also Nikita’s power base.”

“Psychological warfare,” Hawke murmured. “He wants the city in turmoil to undermine Nikita—and . . .” Hawke caught the ball as it rebounded again, held it. “What better way to do that than by inciting the humans and changelings against each other?”

“That’s what worries me,” Drew said. “But I think we’d have heard—sensed—if that kind of ugliness was simmering.”

Hawke threw the ball, bouncing it so that it rebounded toward Drew. “What’s the date?”

Catching the ball, Andrew glanced at his watch and gave the ball to Hawke. “Why?”

“The Cherry Blossom Festival in Japantown.”

“It’s on right now.” He immediately realized what his alpha wanted him to do. “Cats will have a much better chance of getting information from the population down there.” DarkRiver held the city, and they had held it long enough and well enough that they were a trusted part of its fabric. SnowDancer, by comparison, evoked a wary caution—which was how they wanted it.

“Work with them,” Hawke said, “but I want you down there as well.”

“Don’t trust the cats even now?”

Hawke shrugged. “It’s not about trust. It’s about Pack.”

Andrew understood. Hawke’s job was to protect SnowDancer. No matter the blood bond between SnowDancer and DarkRiver, he would never place the lives of his people in their hands alone.

Indigo wasn’t exactly pleased to be pulled off her—considerable—duties to come “play girlfriend,” as Drew had put it. “If you needed a decoy,” she muttered as they meandered through the bustling stalls that lined the street, offering goodies of every variety, “why didn’t you pick one of your harem?”

Tugging her close with the arm he had around her shoulders, he nipped at the tip of her nose. “Because,” he said with a grin when she glared, “you would’ve cut me to pieces with that ice glare of yours”—his hand slid down her back—“after you kicked my bleeding, whimpering ass out of your bed. And I really like your mattress.”

She would not laugh. “There’ll be some whimpering going on very soon if you don’t stop petting my ass in public.”

He stroked his hand even lower and, cupping her face with his free hand, took her mouth in a laughing kiss that simply melted any temper out of her. God, she thought, she’d have to watch him. He could charm himself out of any situation—and make her a co-conspirator.

When he broke the kiss, he didn’t pull away, but rubbed his nose affectionately against hers. “Think of it as a date.”

At that moment, for the first time in forever, Indigo decided what the hell. It was a beautiful, sunshiny day in San Francisco; she was with a gorgeous, sexy man who couldn’t keep his hands off her; and, given their underhanded tactics to date, the group of Psy behind the current attempts to brew up trouble weren’t about to come in guns blazing anytime soon. “In that case,” she said, sliding her arm around his waist, “you have to buy me an ice cream.”

It was only as they began walking again that she realized how much attention they’d drawn despite the crowd. She glimpsed more than one smile directed their way, along with the odd wink. Her wolf sighed, but even it had to admit it was delighted by Drew’s sense of play.

Just then, as Drew went to grab their ice creams, Indigo found herself being waved over by a tiny Japanese lady seated at a small stall. Intrigued, she went. When the yukata-clad lady urged her forward with a wrinkled little hand, Indigo bent across the trays of sweet mochi on the table until she could hear the woman over the buzz of the festival crowd.

“That one,” the elderly lady said in a soft but robust voice, “trouble.”

Indigo grinned. “Absolutely.”

Laughing out loud, the woman picked up a mochi from the table. “Does my heart good to see a man who’s not afraid of a strong woman.” Putting the treat in Indigo’s hand, she waved away her offer of payment and told her to get back to her “trouble.”

Smiling her thanks, Indigo sank her teeth into the sticky rice concoction to discover that the center was liquid chocolate. “Mmm.” Licking the syrup off her lips, she looked up to see Andrew in front of her, his eyes very much on her mouth.

“Share,” he said, in a husky voice.

Deliberately misunderstanding—because it was, she’d realized over the past few weeks, fun to tease him—she put the uneaten half of the mochi in his mouth. When he scowled, she grabbed her ice cream—mango swirl—and took a lick. “What did you get?”

Drew’s fingers tangled with her own as he swallowed the tidbit in his mouth and said, “Chocolate, rum raisin, and tutti-frutti.”

Freezing, Indigo stared at his triple cone. “Doesn’t that taste weird?”

“No. Try.” It was a relaxed gesture, but as she tasted his mix of flavors, their eyes met and suddenly the moment seemed far from lighthearted.

. . . a man who’s not afraid of a strong woman.

The elderly lady’s words whispered through her mind as she pulled back, as she squeezed her fingers around his and they started walking again through the mingled scents of sugar and ice, and later, through seafood stalls redolent with hints of the most delicate sashimi. Farther down, in the area set aside for arts and crafts, she picked up scents as distant as cured wood and cherry blossoms in gloriously full bloom.

The day seemed even brighter than before—and for the first time, the hope in her heart outweighed the fear. Because that elder had been right. While Drew challenged her, attempted to take over in his own charming way, and beyond a doubt liked being in control, he’d never—no matter what—denigrated her strength or made her feel less feminine because of who and what she was. In fact, he’d made it clear in countless ways that her capable, independent nature was part of the attraction.

“Come here,” she murmured, her heart feeling fragile and yet hugely powerful as she dared consider that this unorthodox—and utterly wonderful—relationship might just work after all.

When he dipped his head, she kissed him. “How do you like mango swirl?” she murmured against those lips she knew so very well.

“I think I need a second taste.”

Andrew could’ve spent the whole day playing with Indigo, but aware of how important it was that they get a feel for the emotional health of the city, he worked the people they met, keeping his questions light, his comments innocuous. And piece by piece, word by word, he began to get fragments of information.

Indigo remained uncharacteristically silent.

“You okay?” he asked when they stopped to look at the parade.

“I’ve never seen you do this kind of work before,” she said, looking up at him. “You’re very good.”

Pride unfurled its wings inside him, and his wolf strutted.

An hour later, when they ran into a DarkRiver couple they both knew—Emmett and Ria—they ducked out of the rush of the crowds to grab seats at a wrought-iron table outside a small café. Drinks ordered, Andrew asked the couple if they’d noticed anything, aware that all of DarkRiver’s senior people would’ve been briefed on the possible situation.

Emmett nodded to his mate, a small, curvy brunette with eyes uptilted just enough to speak of ancestry from Asia. “Ria’s family is in Chinatown, and they’ve been worried about some of what they’ve been hearing from their customers.”

Ria picked up the thread of the conversation so smoothly, it was obvious the two had been mated long enough to learn each other’s rhythms. “There are whispers around the city about ‘Purity,’” she said, making a face as she shifted her body to lean against her mate. “Some group is trying to get humans to believe they’d be better off with ‘untainted’ blood.”

Beside her, Emmett played with strands of his mate’s hair. “If they want to cause division, they’re barking up the wrong tree.” He curved one hand around Ria’s neck, fingers stroking gently. “This city and its people are loyal to DarkRiver; we’ve helped them when the Psy wouldn’t, and enough times that that loyalty is set in stone.”

Andrew took a drink, his wolf fascinated by the couple’s interaction. It wasn’t hard to guess why—he was just a little bit jealous. Not because he couldn’t touch Indigo, but because they hadn’t yet reached that depth of intimacy. No, that kind of love took years to settle, to grow and form.

And Indy hadn’t yet committed fully to him. In spite of everything they’d become to each other, he knew her wolf continued to see him as a younger male first, and everything else second. He wasn’t an impatient man, but neither was he a saint. At times like this, when he saw what they could have, that subtle distance threatened to get to him.

“That’s pretty much what I picked up today,” he said, forcing his attention to the matter at hand when he realized everyone was waiting for him to respond. “People are disturbed, but more at the idea of Purity than because they subscribe to it.”

Indigo put down her smoothie. “There are going to be pockets of malcontents. Nothing we can do about that except monitor the situation.”

“Yep,” Emmett agreed, his body angled toward his mate in a way that Andrew didn’t think the other man was even aware of. “But my take? We don’t have to worry about the population in general.”

Andrew agreed. “By the way,” he said, figuring it’d be silly not to mention it since he’d guessed, “congratulations.”

Ria glowed. “I didn’t realize changelings outside the pack would know.”

“Most won’t.” Indigo’s tone was dry even as she reached out to squeeze Ria’s hand. “But Drew’s made a lifelong study of the female form.”

Emmett laughed and nuzzled a kiss to his mate’s temple. “Tell them what Lucas said when he found out.”

“You know I’m Luc’s admin assistant, right?” At their nods, Ria continued, “When he realized I was pregnant, he yelled at me.”

Andrew blinked. “Seriously?” The cats adored kids as much as the SnowDancers did. He couldn’t imagine the leopard alpha not being pleased about the event.

“Uh-huh. He asked me what the hell he was supposed to do when I went on maternity leave.” Ria waited for a beat before delivering the punch line. “Then he told me to put my feet up and wouldn’t even let me pick up a stapler until I threatened to bash his head in with it.”

Indigo burst out laughing. “How many times has she threatened you since you found out?” she asked Emmett.

“Only twenty or so.” Emmett gave a slow smile as he answered, and Ria jumped a little.

“Emmett.”

Andrew saw Indigo bite back a grin as the other woman’s cheeks colored. “You’ll have to excuse Emmett,” Ria said in a laughter-choked voice, “he’s absolutely uncivilized. Can’t take him out in publi—Emmett!”

Andrew dipped his head toward Indigo. “What do you think he’s doing under the table?” he whispered in her ear, even as he slid his own hand up her thigh.

“Don’t get ideas, hotshot.” But her wolf flickered a shimmering gold in her eyes.

And later that night, when they lay entwined in bed, her eyes turned night-glow on him, and he knew that he danced with the wolf and the woman both. It wasn’t quite everything, but it was close enough to soothe his own wolf.