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Cassa breathed out roughly as she left the city, hit the interstate and sat back for the drive ahead. If she got there fast enough and managed to locate the area wh
ere Alonzo’s body was now lying, then she might have a chance to find a few of the answers she needed.
Eleven years as a television investigative reporter had given her the experience; a knowledge of the Breeds was an additional bonus. Now she could only hope that she was the only one who had received that file. If she was lucky—and she was praying she would get lucky—then she might have something to bargain with when she was forced to call Wyatt.
Her own pictures. She would need those. The file was good, but it wasn’t good enough. Pictures could be faked. Technology was amazing and still growing at a rapid pace. There was no way to prove those photos were, in fact, pictures of men who had died at the hands of a Breed.
Only Banks’s body hadn’t yet been found. Alonzo’s was a new addition, but she had no doubt that Jonas would ensure that his murder was covered up. Jonas was damned good like that. So good, a shiver of fear snaked up her back.
But Jonas wasn’t the only one with a knack for doing whatever was needed to protect his people. Cabal was also slowly gaining that reputation. The playboy of the Breed society. The whore-mongering tomcat. He was also whispered to be one of the Bureau’s best silent assassins.
He wasn’t an enforcer. He wasn’t even listed with the Breed registry. For a reason, she guessed. Breeds listed with the registry had to turn in blood and DNA samples. They couldn’t turn in fingerprints because those had been burned away in the labs.
She knew what those labs were, the hell the Breeds had endured. If one was now taking vengeance, then God help her, she couldn’t blame him. But she knew that the rest of the world would do more than blame the Breed, they would turn on all of them.
There was only one way to ensure that didn’t happen. She needed to know why. A face had to be put to the killer, a history. That was her job.
Now she just prayed that Jonas, and most especially Cabal, wouldn’t catch her before she managed to do it. If they did, then she didn’t have a chance in hell.
? CHAPTER 3 ?
EIGHTEEN HOURS LATER
Cassa was beginning to learn to hate the dark, and as she crashed down the mountain she was cursing her own lack of foresight in not having taken one of those nifty little scent blocker pills. Of course, she was on foot. The tangle of brambles and trees in this part of the forest was too thick for her Jeep to make it through.
Slapping at the vines as she crashed through them, she cursed herself, the Breeds and whoever the bastards were chasing her down the mountain.
She had a feeling that if they were Breeds, then they weren’t the friendly sort. She’d gotten an inkling when her attacker had jumped from a broken cliff above her position and snarled in a less than friendly manner.
The curved canines were her first clue that she was in trouble. The Coyote Breeds had curved canines, and for the most part, if they were chasing her now, then they definitely were not the friendly sort.
She heard a low, vicious growl behind her. The sound of it sent her heart rate spiking and her legs attempting to pump faster. She stumbled and rolled down a steep incline before gaining her feet once again.
This was insane. Coming here at night rather than waiting until morning. She’d been too impatient. The trip to West Virginia had been a nightmare to begin with. A flat tire, then a traffic jam along the interstate that had lasted long enough for her to take a long nap, due to the tanker that had collided with a guardrail before slamming into the face of a mountain.
She’d arrived in Glen Ferris just after dark and had taken the time to do nothing more than check into a hotel before setting her personal GPS with the coordinates that had been sent in the email. After dark.
Her father had warned her before his death that she was going to end up racing into more trouble than she could get out of one of these days. She was certain she had finally met up with that day.
“Nosy little bitch!” The snarl drew her up short as the body of a tall, muscular male Coyote Breed jumped in front of her, blocking her exit.
Cassa let out a girly scream. A high-pitched, surprised scream that pierced her own eardrums before she skidded to the side, went down on one leg and slid past him.
Oh God. Angels watch over her. Jesus, Mary or Joseph, whoever was listening to prayers tonight, just get her out of this one. Get her out of this and she promised she wouldn’t harass Marv for a week. No, make that a month. She’d fix coffee for him. She’d call her old biddie of an aunt, send her flowers or something. She would find some kind of good deed worthy of saving her skin.
A low, dark laugh echoed behind her. “Run, little girl,” the wicked voice called out, the pitch low, the amusement in the tone sending fear snaking down her spine.
She could feel her own breath laboring in her chest and wondered if this would be the last time she would feel it.
“Did someone forget to post the ‘No Reporters’ sign?” A hard laugh sounded behind her again.
God, they were playing with her. Coyotes were like cats playing with mice when it came to their victims. And like the mouse, she was running, running, running, and still they were thrashing behind her, shaking the brambles, crunching through the dead leaves and laughing with evil amusement.
She should have thought, should have put more planning into this.
She should have brought a flashlight. The third sharp branch of the night jumped in her path, and this one slapped her broadside, left her cheek stinging and brought tears to her eyes a second before a sharp tug at her jacket jerked her back and tossed her to the ground.
She kicked and struck something hard, a second before a furious yelp was heard, then she rolled and scrambled to her feet again.
