Allegiance of Honor Page 7

  Her hair, which she’d grown out, was twisted into a complicated knot at the back of her head, her sideswept bangs providing a frame for her fine-boned face.

  “I see,” she said, coming to stand over him and Drew, fisted hands on her hips. “While I’m off having serious meetings at the university, you all get to play.” Her attempt to sound stern was totally defused by the sparkle in brown eyes shattered by spikes of arctic blue that speared out from midnight pupils.

  Those extraordinary eyes were all that remained of her trauma at a monster’s hands, and she’d made them her own. The vicious Psy serial killer who’d taken and tortured Brenna had wanted to mark her, break her, then end her life. But he was the one who was dead. Brenna had survived, grown strong, reclaimed every part of her self. And the monster? She’d banished him from her mind until he couldn’t even stalk her nightmares.

  People called Judd tough; he had nothing on Brenna Shane Kincaid.

  “Want to join us?” He held up a muddy hand, while Drew said, “Yeah, Bren. Come play.” His voice was suspiciously cheerful.

  Raising her hands and clearly realizing both her brother and her mate were up to no good, Brenna backed off. “I love you both, but no. Not when I’m wearing these clothes.”

  She was gorgeous and so incredibly smart, Judd’s mate. She was also in the middle of the White Zone with kids who’d figured out the adults were in the mood to play. The first water balloon hit her ten seconds later, catching her on the back. Her yelp of surprise was followed by a second balloon that soaked her front, revealing the lines of the simple white bra Judd had watched her put on this morning.

  He loved watching her dress, loved the way she moved about so energetic and chatty in the morning. And he loved that she fed his touch hunger with demands of her own. Judd liked nothing better than to get his hands on her.

  “Since you’re wet anyway . . .” Rolling to his feet, he started to stalk toward her.

  “You keep your distance,” Brenna ordered. “Judd Lauren, I mean it! I am not getting mud all over—”

  Giving up trying to make him behave when it was clear he wasn’t about to listen, she took off into the trees, kicking off her flats along the way.

  Judd went to race after her . . . only to be brought down hard by a grip on his ankle. All the air in his lungs exploded from his mouth as he went chest-down right into the spot the pups had made their impromptu mud-creation zone. When he looked back, it was to see a certain blue-eyed wolf smirking at him. “Remember that time you used telekinesis on me?” Drew said. “I decided I’m still holding a grudge.”

  Judd took a breath then unstuck himself from the mud by pushing up onto his hands.

  Drew tightened his grip.

  And Judd took a leaf from Ben’s book of mischief. The pup was a master at innocent misdirection. Judd’s misdirection wasn’t so innocent. “Indigo’s on the ground,” he said after pretending to look to the other end of the White Zone. “I think Hawke’s making her eat grass.”

  Drew’s hold grew slack as his head snapped in the direction Judd had been looking. “What?” It was a growl. “Where?”

  Breaking free before the tracker could figure out Judd was lying through his teeth, Judd followed his mate’s scent into the forest beyond the clearing of the White Zone. She’d made good use of her head start, but while she was a wolf, he was an Arrow. He was also teleport-capable. He didn’t cheat though, staying on foot and using only the tracking skills he’d learned since becoming a real part of SnowDancer rather than simply existing within the pack.

  When he caught Brenna, it was because she’d paused to take a rest by a large, deep pond. It had a mirrorlike surface kissed by sunlight and surrounded by purple blooms with yellow hearts as well as by tiny white wildflowers that reminded him of daisies, the mountain flora having adapted to survive at this altitude. Careful to stay upwind so she wouldn’t catch his scent, he crept up behind her.

  “Judd!” she screamed as he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his muddy face against the side of hers, his equally muddy chest sticking to the back of her wet shirt.

  He wasn’t expecting her to hook her foot around his legs, unbalance him. They fell into the pond together, came up spluttering.

  Splashing water at him, Brenna grinned. “Serves you right.”

  “I needed to wash off the mud anyway.” Going under, he scrubbed his face clean before coming back up and hauling her close with one arm around her waist. Her body was softly curved and lithely muscled both—Brenna was a tech rather than a soldier, but aside from her lupine love of running under the moonlight, she attended certain compulsory training sessions alongside fellow packmates who weren’t submissive, but who weren’t dominant enough that a protective security role in the pack was a driving force.

  They had the combat training so they could provide backup should SnowDancer suffer an assault that broke through the ranks of aggressive dominants. The training was intense and regular, and it satisfied the dominance of the wolf within while permitting Brenna to continue to work in another field.

  Because her true asset was her dazzling mind.

  “How was the meeting?”

  “Good. The university wants me to teach a class.”

  Judd felt no surprise. Young though she was, Brenna was at the forefront of her field, her ideas cutting-edge. “You want to?”

  “I’m considering it.” Mind clearly on other matters, she smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist, having already linked her arms loosely around his neck. “Do you think we’re far enough away from the White Zone not to be interrupted?”

  He knew that tone in her voice, slightly husky and soft at the same time. His body responded as if it had been conditioned. Unlike the brutal suffocation of Silence, however, this conditioning was chosen, was wanted.

  Gripping her lush lower curves, he opened to the kiss she claimed, felt his erection harden further as she licked her tongue against his. His hands flexed on her, his body hers to command. His mate had taught him pleasure after a lifetime of cold discipline engendered by torture that had forever ended his childhood, and now he craved that pleasure. Craved her. Only with Brenna could he be this man, a man who demanded and gave and who sank into sensation.

  Sliding one hand up her back, he was about to deepen the kiss when he heard voices, felt the thunder of pounding feet. He broke the kiss just in time to witness an invasion, as all the adults who’d been in the White Zone jumped into the pond en masse, most with loud whooping and hard splashes. Brenna threw back her head and laughed as she was splashed, broke free to splash back. Judd watched her grin, watched her sparkle . . . and he played.

  It was no longer a foreign experience.

  As he stole a kiss from his mate a few minutes later, he hoped his friend Xavier would have the same chance at happiness, that he’d find his Nina. Of the three of them who had come together to form their own small rebel cell—Judd, Kaleb, Xavier—the priest was undeniably the only one who was good to the core of his soul. He might’ve struggled, might’ve looked into the screaming depths of the abyss, but Xavier Perez had never fallen into that darkness. He deserved joy, deserved to find the love he’d lost under a hail of bloody telepathic strikes over nine years earlier.

  Good luck, my friend.

  Letters to Nina

  From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez

  July 8, 2073

  Nina,

  I’m sitting surrounded by the phantom image of what was once our village. A bare three months since the Psy attack and there’s nothing here anymore. The bodies are all gone, as are the houses. No sign remains of the vibrant place that was our home.

  I can hear you laughing at the idea of me writing a letter. I never did write you romantic love notes like Jorge did to Fiorella, even after you hinted so hard you may as well have hit me over the head with a hammer. Why should I write letters, I
thought, when my Nina is here beside me, and I can love her with my voice, my hands, my body?

  But now I’ve lost you and all I have left is paper and ink.

  I saw you go over the cliff into the river. I made you jump. I thought you’d be safe, that the waters would carry you away from the carnage.

  The silence here is ugly, obscene. A heavy shroud.

  In the months since the Psy murdered all those we loved, I’ve returned here many times hoping you’d made your way back, but I’ve found no trace of you. No one knows of a woman who came out of the river. No one has heard of my Nina. I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up. Because from the day I first grew old enough to remember my own thoughts, I knew two things: That I was a man of God, and that one day, I would marry you.

  I’ll find you, Nina. No matter what it takes or how long I have to search. I’ll find you.

  Your Xavier

  Chapter 7

  KALEB HADN’T BEEN serious when he told Judd he was thinking of taking Silver along to the meeting with Ena Mercant, but when his most senior aide walked into his office as he was buttoning up the jacket of his navy blue pin-striped suit, he considered it for an instant. Because the Mercants were . . . unusual.

  In political terms and in terms of their intelligence network, their importance was far-reaching. Most people saw them as shadow players who wanted to manipulate puppets in positions of power, but Kaleb had always seen something different: a family that had stayed a family regardless of Silence. They were a tightly integrated unit with blood-deep loyalty to one another.

  Kaleb had first hired Silver because he wanted an “in” with the Mercants, had kept her on even after he figured out that getting Mercant trust was nothing so simple. It had been an easy decision: Silver was the best aide he’d ever had, one who worked efficiently with and for him—as evidenced by the fact that she was here so early this morning. However, Silver also had the critical capacity to make independent decisions and take the necessary steps to action those decisions.

  Kaleb didn’t trust her. He trusted very few people, but he had long ago decided that whether she brought the Mercant family with her, or not, Silver had considerable value on her own.

  She proved that value with her next question.

  “Sir,” she said. “Would you like me to accompany you to this meeting?”

  “No,” he answered, at the same time setting up a psychic filter for any mentions of Lucas Hunter’s child. It would run quietly in the background so long as he didn’t turn it off. “I think your grandmother and I should speak alone.”

  Silver’s expression didn’t change. She was always coolly composed, no matter the pressure, her ice-blonde hair pinned neatly back in a sophisticated roll and her body clad in skirt suits paired with spike heels. Today’s suit was gray, the shirt white. The heels were black. Kaleb only noticed things like that because he saw them as tools—Silver was far too intelligent to dress in impractical heels unless they gave her an advantage in some way.

  “If I might make a suggestion,” she said now.

  Kaleb nodded. He was well aware of his own strength and power, but arrogance was a flaw he tried not to cultivate. It led only to bitter outcomes. Look at Ming LeBon, scrambling to make a place for himself in the world after losing his grip on the most lethal squad of assassins ever known. Had Ming still had the loyalty of the Arrows, he’d have held more power than even Kaleb.

  But where Kaleb had Sahara to keep him anchored, to keep him as honest as he could ever be, Ming had no one he could truly trust. It was difficult to build that trust when subordinates lived in constant fear of death or torture because Ming didn’t tolerate mistakes. Kaleb didn’t, either, but he didn’t punish mistakes that were genuine—or those that had been made in pursuit of a worthwhile goal. He’d been known to promote not only the winners, but also those who had failed but then dusted themselves off and tried again. To do otherwise was to stifle all innovation and drive.

  Most of all, his people knew he never forgot those who’d been loyal.

  As he hadn’t forgotten Silver when it came time to promote someone to coordinate the worldwide Emergency Response Network. Yes, Sahara had had to nudge him, but only because he didn’t want to lose part of Silver’s attention to EmNet, not because he didn’t have confidence in her competence for the task.

  “Grandmother Mercant is predisposed to work with you,” Silver said as those thoughts passed rapidly through his head. “Don’t insult her intelligence at any point by lying or skirting the truth, and you’ll come out of the meeting with everything you want.”

  Kaleb held Silver’s eyes, the color an unusual light shade that was a marker of one branch of the Mercant family tree. Her brother had the same eyes, as did her mother and grandmother. “Understood,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re offering me advice that might help me best your own grandmother.”

  “It’s not about besting,” Silver replied. “It’s about ensuring you don’t make a mistake that will cost both parties in the long run.”

  Kaleb understood the subtext: The Mercants had, for whatever reason, decided to welcome him into the fold. All he had to do was accept that welcome and work with them. “Thank you, Silver.”

  Inclining her head, she passed over a whisper-thin organizer that was a prototype from one of Kaleb’s enterprises. “If you could sign this contract before you go.”

  Kaleb scanned the text to make sure it was exactly as he wanted it, then signed. “No interruptions unless it’s an emergency.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Having already gotten a fix on the visual coordinates he’d been given, Kaleb teleported to the location of the meeting—though he could’ve teleported directly to Ena Mercant. Despite her tendency to stay out of the spotlight, he had a recent visual of her face. Not all teleporters could lock on to people as well as places, but Kaleb had been born with the ability.

  Using it in these circumstances, however, would’ve been a grave insult to his host.

  I couldn’t resist, whispered a familiar telepathic voice, carried along their bond and augmented by Kaleb’s own strength until Sahara could reach him telepathically, no matter the distance that separated them. What does Ena Mercant’s inner sanctum look like?

  The darkness inside Kaleb stretched out under the light that was Sahara. Are you still in bed? He’d left her warm and sleepy and flushed from his kiss when he teleported into the office.

  Do you know how sexy you are when you dress in those suits? was her response. Especially when you button up your shirt, then slot in the cuff links. Watching you is like having a waking erotic dream.

  Kaleb smiled inwardly. Yes, I know. Sahara had made it clear by the way she watched him, by the number of times she’d hauled him into bed after he’d had his shower and was dressing. Should I stop?

  Come home and tease me after this meeting. You left too early.

  His inward smile deepened even as he kept his face expressionless. I have an empire to run.

  Pfft. What’s another million or five when you have . . . I don’t even know how much money you have.

  A lot. And it’s ours, not mine. He’d built the empire for her, built everything for her. This location in Ena Mercant’s home is identical to the image I showed you. A cool floor of dark stone, steel gray walls, sofas of a darker gray.

  Really? A hint of disappointment. I expected something unexpected. She’s the Mercant after all.

  Kaleb looked around the room, spotted what he’d missed when he first came in. There’s a vase of dark, dark red roses along one wall. A single, violent splash of color in the gray. Perhaps a subtle reminder that those who cross the Mercants die bloody deaths?

  Don’t joke, Sahara ordered, her tone no longer playful. These people are dangerous.

  So am I, he reminded the woman who worried about him, who loved him, twisted internal scars and all. But I promi
se I won’t take anything for granted. The Mercants can be lethal foes.

  He walked to the large sloping windows that looked out over a misty gorge. It was heading into night in this part of the world, but Ena’s windows didn’t look out over a city bright with sparkling lights. No, beyond the gorge was craggy rock and then the crashing sea. This is interesting. He sent Sahara an image of what he was seeing.

  His senses alerted him to another presence at almost the same instant.

  Turning, he saw a woman who was Silver with fifty more years of life. The same eyes, the same sharply defined face. The difference was that Ena Mercant’s hair was silky white and she wore not a skirt suit, but pants that moved fluidly around her legs, the color of the fabric similar to that of the café au lait Sahara had made Kaleb try three days earlier. Ena’s top was the same color and of the same fabric and flowed to her hips while covering her arms.

  On her feet were black flats. She also wore a long silver necklace that came down to below her breasts and was anchored by an ornate metal pendant with a core of red.

  Psy rarely wore jewelry, but Kaleb had a feeling this wasn’t just jewelry. “Ena,” he said, very deliberately using her first name.

  Ena Mercant might be a shadow power but Kaleb was a power.

  Better she not forget that. His decision wasn’t arrogance but the cool tactical thinking that had led to his meteoric rise—and that kept him at the top of the food chain. Even Pax Marshall, who was flexing his muscle against many others, gave Kaleb a wide berth.

  “Kaleb.” Ena Mercant’s voice had a rasp that seemed natural. “What do you think of the view?”

  Turning back to it as she came to stand beside him, he said, “It’s similar to my own view at home.” His deck jutted out over a gorge as steep. “You don’t want to be closer to a metropolitan area?” That was the choice made by most Psy.

  “Do you?” Ena’s eyes remained on the foaming waves in the distance.