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That wreck; everything had changed the night Claire Martinez had taken her father’s sports car, Liza with her, flying over a canyon and somehow missing the other side.
The two girls hadn’t been found for hours, and when they had been located, their fathers hadn’t called the EMS immediately. Instead, they had called together the chiefs of the Six Tribes, the medicine men of the Nation. Only after they had treated the girls had an ambulance been called and they had been taken to the hospital.
The accident report had been accessed by Diane Broen before she had arrived in Window Rock. Her suspicious nature had read something into those events that even the Breeds had been unable to decipher. Something even Stygian had been unable to figure out.
According to the blood tests and surface-level genetic testing, Liza wasn’t Honor Roberts. Her DNA was different, but the DNA used for those tests had been collected before the experiments conducted in the Brandenmore labs. The blood and tissue samples were those collected when she was a young girl, hospitalized for the wasting disease that had slowly been killing her.
Had a full-level DNA analysis been done? One that went to the very center of the genome, such as those done to detect recessive Breed genetics? After all, the serum used on the two girls had been derived from Breed hormones, while that used on the Breeds had been derived from both Breed and human hormones.
Barring that, had their DNA been compared to their parents’?
As he felt her slip into sleep, Stygian found his mind racing. There were too many questions, and far too many mysteries surrounding his mate and her friend Claire Martinez.
The fact, though, was that there was no evidence to even raise suspicion that Liza and Claire weren’t exactly who they claimed to be. Nothing but the fact that since they were children, no blood, tissue or saliva samples had been taken from either girl, even during their stay in the hospital after the wreck.
From the moment they left the hospital, their personalities had been different. Their looks had been altered from the plastic surgeries needed, supposedly because of damage caused from the vehicle crashing into the canyon.
The fact that no blood and tissue samples had been taken then was highly suspicious and riding the cusp of being illegal.
There were Diane Broen’s suspicions, there were Jonas’s suspicions and his own, but that wasn’t proof. There was no proof at all that she was anyone other than who she was supposed to be.
As he glared at the ceiling, he heard the faint hum of his sat-phone, which he’d set on the bedside table. Glancing over, the text message had him closing his eyes briefly.
Five minutes. Connecting suite.
The message was from Jonas.
Fuck, he didn’t need this.
Dealing with Jonas wasn’t something he wanted to do tonight, not while his own emotions were in such turmoil. Not while he was still trying to process the fact that his mate likely had no idea who she really was.
Not while he was still trying to get a grip on the suspicion that, somehow, the real Liza Johnson had ceased to exist somewhere around the time of that car accident.
In her place was Honor Roberts—but without Honor’s memories, or the knowledge of who she was or who she had been. And if Liza Johnson was actually Honor Roberts, then that meant Claire Martinez would most likely be Fawn Corrigan, the target Gideon Cross was rumored to be determined to kill.
With a tight grimace, he eased himself from the bed.
Liza was sleeping. Stygian tucked the blankets about her shoulders to ensure she didn’t get chilled.
Gathering his clothes, Stygian made his way to the connecting sitting room to dress quickly.
Once he pulled the low boots on and jerked the hem of his jeans over them, Stygian made his way to the door across the room, activated the digital keypad then punched in the code to disengage the locks.
Closing the door carefully behind him, he moved across the room to the entrance and opened the door to admit Jonas, Rule, Lawe and Mordecai.
Lawe Justice’s rumored recent refusal of the position of assistant director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs hadn’t changed the fact that he was still one of Jonas’s most trusted advisors. The fact that he was there for the meeting Jonas had demanded proved it.
“What do you want, Wyatt?” Stygian breathed out wearily as he closed the door quietly. “Liza’s asleep, but she may not be for long. So whatever you have to say that you don’t want her to hear, now’s the time to do it.”
He had no idea what the director wanted, but he could sense the fact that whatever it was, Liza would be offended by it. The fact that the director insisted on meeting after she would most likely have been asleep was the first indication.
The look on Jonas’s face wasn’t comforting either.
Looking around the room, the director turned back to him slowly. “You’re a lousy host, Stygian. There’s not a damned thing here to drink.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you taught me well then.” He snorted. “There hasn’t been a time I’ve come to the office that you’ve shared with me any of that whisky you’re so proud of.”
Jonas’s lips kicked up at one corner as he inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps I made a mistake there,” he stated, his voice remaining low. “I can get a drink when I return to my suite
