Damn her and damn my bastard of a brother.
Vin’s lips thinned as if he read his thoughts, and Tag strengthened his barriers against him.
Forestor steepled his fingers and tapped his lips as he continued to circle the room. “You’ve spent the last ten years doing research for the Triumvirate at their complex in Ireland, Dr. Jennings, but as I understand it, you were there a bit longer than that, were you not?”
Vin’s gaze shifted. A light flash like the sun hitting metal flared in his pupils as he refocused the intensity of his stare on Forestor.
Tag pushed up from his chair and moved to flank his brother just in case. That flash was a Drachon retinal flare, and it meant bad news even from a weakened, unmated male like his brother. Especially since his brother’s behavior was so unpredictable.
Forestor’s response was an eerie slow lift of his lips that didn’t quite make a smile. “The very same complex Dr. Mahoney was held in as a girl, the one she ‘escaped’ from…well, ten years ago. And since that time, you never so much as stepped foot from that compound. Until now.”
Vin made a rumbling noise. “And your point?”
“You made quite a messy exit, if I’m not mistaken. Killed twenty-two of the complex guards.” Forestor’s voice was a low rumble of sound as he came to a stop next to Vin and leaned toward him. “Triumvirate Guardians.”
Tag frowned, his gaze darting from one man to the other. Why would his brother need to kill the guards if he was working for the Triumvirate willingly? And he’d been there with the doc all those years ago? The doc had never as much as thought of Vin— and Tag had been in her mind enough to notice—and surely she would remember a man who was Tag’s mirror image?
“In the years that Dr. Mahoney has been working here, there was no indication she was anything but loyal to Incog and me. Until now.” Forestor lifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes at Tag. “How odd that she went from the company of one brother to the other.”
Tag prickled. “What the fuck, Forestor? Are you accusing me of something?”
Forestor rose to his full height, those dark eyes unreadable. “No, Agent Jennings, I am not, but neither do I believe it a coincidence.” Forestor frowned thoughtfully. “Especially since the two of you have had absolutely no contact in twenty years. What I can’t figure out is why. What happened in that complex ten years ago, Dr. Jennings, and what was your role in it? What has changed to precipitate your appearance and Dr. Mahoney’s disappearance?”
Vin said nothing, but his emotions hummed in the air like a string wound too tight. Tag couldn’t tell what those emotions were.
“I’ll leave it to your Drakes to figure out when they arrive,” Forestor murmured, referring to the Drachon elders.
“The Drakes are coming here?” Vin’s eyes glinted green, and he straightened.
Forestor made a low sound of affirmation. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear the prodigal son has returned. They’ll arrive once the patients being tortured at the GenTest research lab are secured within Incog.”
Why the hell would Forestor give out so much information in front of a prisoner, especially one they knew to be in league with the Triumvirate? GenTest was a genetic research company funded by the Triumvirate that acquired human crossbreeds against their will and experimented on them. If Vin was heading up their science experiments in Europe, then he would be involved with GenTest. Surely Forestor knew letting Vin know their plans would create a security risk of massive proportions. His brother was the strongest telepath he’d ever known and could be communicating with someone outside of Incog even as they sat here feeding him sensitive information. Forestor wasn’t stupid. What game was the wily Guardian playing now?
“Drachon soldiers are going to help take down the facility and secure the victims here at Incog,” Forestor continued. “Everyone else will be given to the Drachon for sorting out.”
Sorting out for Drachon meant bringing in their strongest telepaths and rooting through the minds of their enemies. Those not considered a threat would be released, but those who were deemed a threat to Drachon survival… Drachon didn’t take prisoners. They didn’t adhere to the rules of conduct set by the Arcane Alliance, the farce of a governing body that was supposed to balance the power of the Triumvirate. And Tag’s people sure as hell didn’t kneel down to the three ancient and corrupt witches. His people lived by their own laws. They were fair but far from merciful.
“Taking that facility will require significant manpower. The Triumvirate monitors Incog. They’ll know what you’re planning the minute Drachon start arriving.” Vin cursed low and fervent, heaving to his feet. Tag moved in closer to intercept any threatening moves, but his brother only paced away from Forestor. “The guards will kill all the scientists in the complex before your people even get close enough to smell the blood.”
This time Forestor did smile. “Drachon have been arriving since yesterday.”
Tag spun on one heel to face Forestor. “What? Why didn’t I know of this?”
“They’re being shimmered up to the eleventh floor from an undisclosed location outside of the city by Agent Sheridan. As you can see,” Forestor inclined his head toward Tag, “very few are aware of their presence.”
“Fucking Kel,” Tag mumbled and dragged his hand over his buzzed hair. Agent Kel Sheridan was a crossbreed who could shimmer, an ability she did not hesitate to use to her advantage. She was a death wish wrapped in a pretty pixie coating that often had people underestimating her. The little brat was probably gloating at knowing something he didn’t.
Vin shook his head as he paced. “This won’t work. Dr. Mahoney will be killed or relocated before we can reach her.”
Tag’s attention arrowed back in on his brother. “Doc? What do you know that we don’t?”
“She’s at the Death Valley Research Complex, what you refer to as GenTest. It’s the only complex the Triumvirate has on the West Coast that is conducting research Dr. Mahoney would prove valuable in.” Vin rubbed a hand down his left arm. “I’ll go there. They’ll be expecting me since it’s the most logical move on my part, and I can protect her during the raid.”
“What?” Tag folded his arms over his chest. “Hell
and
no. You can’t be trusted.” A nasty suspicion surfaced. Vin showed up looking for the doc after she’d disappeared, and now he wanted them to let him get to her before they did. “How the hell do we know you’re not here because the Triumvirate already knows about the attack? You could be a danger to her.”
A muscle ticked in Vin’s jaw, and a sharp pain ripped through Tag’s head without warning.
Fuck no.
His brother was not fingering up his thoughts. “Fuck off, Vin.” Tag wiped the trickle of blood from his face with the back of his hand.
“Think, Tag. We’re two halves of one whole. My reaction to her would have been no different than yours.”
“Bullshit,” Tag grunted. The metallic taste of his blood tainted his mouth, and he coughed. With a fury that had his dragon unfurling inside him, he sent his own thoughts spearing into his brother.
“I’ll never let you take her.”
Vin’s smile was sharp as he advanced a step.
“There it is. That need to protect her. Even at sixteen she had me struggling with my daemos to resist it. I knew it would be the same for you. Why do you think I sent her here? Help me protect her. Let me help you.”
The room around them flickered to shades of fire that warned Tag’s dragon was too close to the surface. Drachon hunting vision gave them the ability to see heat signatures even through walls. It made them unrivaled hunters. He blinked it back.
“I don’t trust you.”
Vin’s smile faded.
“Fine. Don’t trust me, but trust what you feel. She’s our mate. I knew it from the moment I saw her. You did too. Trust that I would never,
could
never harm a mate.”
Tag cursed, wiped his nose, and looked down at the blood on his hand before glaring at his brother.
“If you even try to harm her, I’ll kill you, brother or no.”
Chapter Five
Hours later Vin walked slowly through the gate of the Death Valley Research Center. His skin prickled under the sheer magnitude of the weaponry currently trained on him. Despite the facility security being made up almost entirely of Guardians, each was armed with large-bore rifles. The kind used to take down an elephant, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Under the focus of all that firepower, Vin let them herd him through the gleaming concrete halls of the research facility, and the thought occurred to him that he should be flattered. Their estimation of his physical prowess was sorely exaggerated, but better they believe he was some kind of beast than to have any idea how weak he actually was. Fear was more lethal than even the most powerful weapon if wielded properly. Despite the agreement Forestor had made with him, Vin wasn’t confident the army they were sending in would secure his freedom from this facility when they attacked it.
Aside from Incog’s own agents, Drachon warriors made up a large part of the force taking the complex, and Vin’s defection to the enemy camp was a well-known offense among his kind. He was confident his rescue would not be high on their priority list, but he expected no less. He was accustomed to looking out for himself and knew it would be wise to accumulate any advantages he could find, should he need to make his own way out.
Vin took note of each turn and curve, sharp for any and every nuance that might aid him later on. He noted the floor beneath his feet was slanted marginally, indicating they were likely descending into an underground level of the compound. A few discreet glances at the placement of the cameras—no blind spots. Each door they passed was steel with a security pad to the right of it. He’d thought the Triumvirate Citadel to be overly secure, but this facility was more like a military compound than a lab. That was more than a little disconcerting. What could possibly need this level of security on the inside?
He and his armed entourage came to a stop in front of a large steel door similar to the others, and two of the Guardians turned to direct their weapons at him. He raised one eyebrow as he took in their braced stances, the tilt of their heads bent to the stocks of their rifles. They were going to make damn sure he didn’t attempt an escape…or, at least not alive.
Lesser men might have found the sight of those barrels hovering in front of him ominous, but it elicited no more than a bit of morbid humor in Vin. He was a Drachon, a species of the Arcane that could hope for little more than living out their short lives. He had sacrificed even that when he’d made the fateful decision all those years ago to join forces with the Trust, a covert group that infiltrated all levels of both the Rebel and the Triumvirate infrastructures. Death meant nothing to him. It was no more than a stop on a path he’d chosen long ago. What meant something to him was the woman he knew to be within these walls. He would thwart even death to assure she was safe.
As another Guardian pressed his hand on the security pad next to the door, Vin noted the security was biometric. He absently speculated on how long he had once the owner was dead to use their biometrics to get through the security. Was a pulse necessary to activate the sensor or just body heat? No guilt or remorse accompanied the thoughts, and as he watched the door slide open, he felt a foreign sense of discomfort at the absence of his morals. Had he gotten so far from his humanity that he no longer mourned the loss of human life? How many lives had he taken in the past two days? In the past, he hadn’t given much consideration to what he’d done in the name of survival. Why was he suffering from such introspection now? Was it the promise of seeing her again that made him measure his humanity?
Vin mentally shook himself. Now was no time to search for elusive compassion—not when he would need to operate without it to free Dr. Mahoney.
He followed the Guardians into the room. A lab—no surprise there. He noticed the equipment was state-of-the-art as he stepped forward, not bothering to acknowledge the silent retreat of his guards or the hiss of the door shutting and locking. Moving deeper into the lab, he inspected the counters. Drawing in a deep breath, he narrowed his eyes and turned to study the lab closer.
She
had been here. Her scent was faint—old—maybe a day or two. As frail as the trace of her was, he still paced through the lab, drawing it in, savoring it. It had been years since he’d been this close to her.
Years
. A pulse of energy reverberated through him, expanding in his chest, burning down his arm. Inhaling another deep draught of her scent, he ran his hand down his right arm in an instinctual bid to ease his dragon. It rarely roused these days, and he preferred it that way. The spirit of his dragon was fire and instinct when what Vin needed was calculation and intelligence.
As he slowly passed through, it didn’t appear as though any of the equipment had been used. Every surface was immaculate, the gleam of metal and glass begging for touch. His fingertips tingled with the draw. Science was his obsession; the siren’s call of the next great discovery had held him for so many years. Yet the blood that beat through his heart was Drachon. The call of his people had pulsed so much heavier in him. Until Dr. Mahoney.
Vin stopped his advance at the back of the lab where a door lay open, and stared into the darkened room. A small living suite was attached to the lab. A large chair upholstered in deep red fabric was angled in one corner next to a tall chest of drawers. Against the opposite wall was a bed carefully draped in a thick brown-and-red comforter. Another door was ajar, and he could just make out the shine of tile on the floor. He didn’t cross the threshold because he scented the same faint thread of her essence in that room.
Vin glanced back into the lab with a frown.
Dr. Mahoney had been held in this unit but had never touched any of the equipment. What then had she done in here? Why was she no longer here? It was her brilliant mind, her incomparable ability to process genetics that made her so valuable to the Triumvirate, and this lab was obviously as cutting edge as it could get. Why move her?