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Cyrus had really enjoyed punishing her for that one. At least he hadn’t killed the agent. Oh no, Cyrus Tallant didn’t murder useful talent right off. Nope, the married agent was still being blackmailed by Cyrus Tallant.
She’d had two other lovers, short affairs, men whose names she forced herself not to even remember. Nice, plain men whose saving grace had been their warmth. For a few short weeks she had let them keep her warm.
Rounding the curve in the tunnel, she moved into another. How fucking far did this damned underground path lead, anyway? She felt as though she had been walking forever.
And each step hurt more. The closer she came to escaping Tanner, the more it hurt. A physical, burning ache in the center of her chest.
Her common sense was screaming at whatever weakkneed little romantic was whispering that she turn back. Return to bed. Wait on Tanner. He was just checking on the soldiers surrounding his cabin, that unknown voice whispered in her head.
Stupid twit, shut the fuck up, her common sense screamed. He was probably reporting to her father even now.
But he had hasn’t hurt you. He was worried for you.
He wants answers, not your old-assed body.
She sighed. She felt old. So old that at times her soul felt shriveled, dry.
Until Tanner touched her.
Rounding another curve, she saw the way out. There, set in the stone, was a metal ladder leading to the ceiling and a light indention around what seemed to be a stone covering.
Freedom.
A tear slipped free of her eye.
Scheme brushed the dampness away slowly before rubbing her fingers together, absorbing the sign of weakness as she stared up at the exit. It was time to face destiny now. Fate. Karma. Whichever it was, it was time to pay for the lives her father had taken.
Wasn’t there a scripture in the Bible? Something about the son paying for the father’s sins? Well, she wasn’t a son, but she was the only child capable of paying.
She grabbed hold of the ladder and pulled herself up it, using the flat of her hand to push the stone above her aside.
Freedom.
So why did it feel more like a return to captivity?
“Tanner, son, we got problems. ”
Tanner crouched just behind Jackal and Cabal, his narrowed eyes piercing the early morning mists rising from the cliff-shrouded valley to envelop the high ridge his cabin sat on.
“What are you two doing here?” he murmured, his eyes following the delicate dance between a half dozen Council soldiers and the four Breed Enforcers moving around the small building several miles from the caves.
“Checking a few things,” Jackal’s ruined voice murmured. “We expected the Council soldiers to watch the cabin. We didn’t expect Jonas’s men to be there too. ”
“He knows you’re here?” Tanner was aware that Jonas had ordered them to remain on active duty. Hours later, Cabal had flipped him the finger and walked out of the Bureau. Jackal had followed with a smirk, Cabal related.
“He shouldn’t know shit,” Cabal growled. “We went to Sanctuary first and slipped out from there. By the way, Callan said you’re getting your ass kicked when you get back. ”
Tanner grunted as he slipped the noc’s, the short-range, multiuse glasses used for ground warfare, from Cabal’s face and set them over his eyes.
Son of a bitch. Council soldiers and enforcers were each pretending they didn’t know the other group was there.
“Wild,” he muttered. “What the fuck is up with this?”
“The Council crew is half a dozen of their best,” Jackal whispered. “Men they only call out in extreme circumstances because they charge an arm and a leg for the service. The Breeds playing patty-cake with them are part of what Jonas calls his Alpha Team. They’re the best of the best. Jonas recruited each one personally. ”
“The other half of Alpha Team is concentrated around the comm shed at Sanctuary, and some of the equipment they’re using is definitely not standard issue. ”
“Like?”
