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“Then what makes you think it was my husband?” she asked archly.
He grunted at that. A completely feline sound of irritation.
“I read the report on you as well as that of your husband, Douglas Watts,” he informed her. “He wasn’t exactly a prize, Cassa. You could have done much better. Just because there was nothing in there about abuse doesn’t mean it didn’t exist.”
That was no joke.
“But there was nothing in that report about it,” she reminded him.
His hair brushed against his shoulders as he gave his head a quick shake before maneuvering the vehicle onto the main road.
“And you’re being too evasive, that’s answer enough for me.” There was a latent growl in his throat, one that sent shivers of both pleasure as well as dread racing down Cassa’s spine.
“Believe what you want to,” she told him coolly. “There are much more interesting matters in my life right now than a husband long dead. How long do you think it will take Jonas to figure out where that drug came from?”
Thick dark gold lashes narrowed on her as he cast her a quick look before turning his attention back to the road.
“Soon” was the only answer he gave. “Our main concern at this point is to catch our killer. Find him and we’ll find the origin of that drug.”
“Jonas thinks he can control a rogue, doesn’t he?” She could well believe Jonas was that arrogant.
“Jonas thinks he could control the wind if he put his mind to it,” Cabal snorted. “He’s that damned hardheaded. But in this case, he most likely can.”
Cassa shook her head at that thought. “I saw those pictures, Cabal, just as you saw the bodies. That amount of rage can’t be contained. Jonas could end up on the wrong end of a rogue’s fury.”
“He’s been there before.” And from the sound of Cabal’s voice, it hadn’t been any more pleasant then.
Cabal breathed in the scent in the Raider and restrained the need to snarl in anger. He still couldn’t catch her scent or his mark upon her. It enraged him that something so elemental had been restrained within her body. Her scent, so uniquely hers, had been completely wiped away. There was nothing to reassure the animal inside him that she was his, that his scent covered her body. There wasn’t even the scent of arousal to salve that primal need.
Added to that insult was the knowledge that his accusations against Watts were correct and she was still trying to hide it. Watts had admitted to beating her, abusing her. During his interrogation after Cabal’s escape from the hellhole of the pit, Watts had admitted to it. Just as he had admitted that Cassa had known nothing about his betrayal. That he had played her. He had laughed at how eager she had been for that illusion of love, of belonging.
Cabal had wanted to kill him. So many times. So many ways. But forcing the bastard to live was a salve to Cabal’s pride as well. As much as Cabal wanted him dead, this way Watts was actually paying for his crimes rather than resting in peace as it were.
Cassa’s fears were instinctive, and though Cabal understood that, still he couldn’t get past his anger that she would fear him.
He was her mate. He would rather harm himself than harm her. That was more than instinct, that was a part of him. No male could call himself a man if he gained his sense of power from harming those weaker than himself. Especially his woman.
Glancing over at her, he grimaced at the continued lack of scent. It should have lasted only approximately two hours, she had told them that morning. It had been quite a bit longer than that.
He couldn’t smell her, and a part of him needed that connection to her. Removing one hand from the wheel, he reached out to her and enclosed the soft delicacy of her hand as it lay against her thigh.
Her response was a stiffening of her body as the slightest tinge of surprise wafted through the air. She looked from where he clasped her hand back to his face.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Isn’t this what lovers do?” he asked her as he continued to hold her hand, drawing it from her lap to his hard thigh. “Hold hands.”
She blinked back at him silently. He’d managed to shock her. Damn, he thought he might feel a little pride in that. Cassa rarely allowed herself to be surprised or shocked.
She stared at their hands again, as though uncertain what to say, or how to act. To throw her further off balance, and simply because he enjoyed the feel of her soft flesh, he allowed his thumb to run over her fragile knuckles, to caress and warm her flesh.
A little tremble went through her fingers and raced up her arm. He swore she acted like a woman unused to touch.
“Beginning nearly forty years ago, escaped Breeds were making their way to areas they felt would shelter and protect them. They came here, to Glen Ferris,” he told her softly. “A few, one here, one there, until over two dozen amassed together. Then, about twenty years ago, out of those few, there would be disappearances. Rumor would make it back that the bodies of those missing Breeds had been returned, lifeless, to the Council. There was a hunting party that called themselves the Deadly Dozen, and they were preying on escaped Breeds.”
“Some of those Breeds were sold to Brandenmore Research before being returned to the Council,” Cassa remarked, a tone of relief in her voice. “Since Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls were arrested for crimes against the Breed society, information has begun trickling through linking them to illegal research.”
“Exactly.” Cabal nodded. “Our rogue Breed made his first kill about three months ago, just before Brandenmore and Engalls were caught in Sanctuary attempting to steal Breed medical information. Since then, five others have died, each rumored to be connected to the research and pharmaceutical family.”
