. That’s what she was. The one person who could complete both man and snake. She was special.
She was theirs.
And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
The rattlesnake wasn’t stupid. What the man knew, he knew, too—in as much as he could understand it. But even if the man hadn’t told him Friday was sick, the rattlesnake would have known. He could smell it on her. Taste it on the air around her. The snake knew toxins. It knew she had one inside of her. One that didn’t belong there. One that was sleeping, waiting to take her from the rattler and the man.
He wasn’t going to let that happen.
That was why he was sneaking through the corridors looking for the man who’d hurt Friday. He had to save her. And to do that. He had to eliminate the threat. He had to kill the man.
He’d told his human that he was going to open the door. That he would get them out of the room. But he’d heard the human’s thoughts, the ones he didn’t even acknowledge to himself, let alone say out loud. The human knew that the door needed a special key. A biological key. And there was no way the rattler could get it. The human had been lying to himself. Clinging to hope that wasn’t there.
The diamondback knew better.
The rattler couldn’t free them, but he could eliminate the threat. And then he would go back to the room and help his human take care of their mate.
Because Friday belonged to both of them.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kane Duggan was amused by the nest the smuggler had built for himself and his woman. Amused enough to allow his captives the illusion of privacy, for the time being. It was hours until the poison activated and Friday Jones expired. According to the records at the Houston facility, she’d accessed the controlled substance cabinet at six p.m. five days earlier. That meant she’d taken the poison close to the same time. Which gave her less than six hours to live.
Kane smiled at the monitors showing the couple’s cell. In an hour or so, he’d send a team to rip apart their little sanctuary. And then he’d record every last emotional minute for Miriam. He knew exactly how much she’d appreciate his efforts.
Satisfied with his plan, he turned his back on the monitors, but he could still hear his prisoners whisper. Kane couldn’t quite make out the words, but from what he did manage to hear, they were talking about Striker’s family. Not a topic that interested Kane. Family was nothing more than sentimental weakness. It was why he’d rid himself of his as soon as been able. He’d learned early that a man with his skills made enemies easily, and it was best not to have anything those enemies could use as leverage. Not that his useless parents would have been much in the way of leverage, but it had been wise to eliminate the possibility—in the most permanent way possible.
Of course, he’d made sure that the right people heard about what he’d done to his family. In the end, his useless parents had served a purpose—they’d furthered his reputation as a man to be feared. Mm, maybe he was sentimental after all, because listening to Striker talk about his childhood had brought back the happiest memory he had from his youth—watching the life drain from his parents.
He tapped the console in front of him and connected with CommTECH’s head office. He hated the Coalition Countries. Hated that his implants were useless outside the Territories. He wanted to go back to New York, where his will was carried out with the merest thought. After a moment’s delay, Miriam’s face appeared on the screen covering the wall.
“Is she dead?”
Kane smiled. Miriam Shepherd always got straight to the point. It was one of the things he loved about her, in as much as he could love anyone.
“Nearly. They’re locked in a monitored cell.”
Her gaze sharpened, his meaning at once clear. “Are you recording it?”
“Of course.”
“No chance of escape?”
“None.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” She practically purred the words, and not for the first time, he wished he found her even remotely attractive. He considered Miriam to be his soulmate, but she didn’t arouse him sexually. His needs lay in other directions.
“When can I expect your return?”
“Tomorrow. I need to clean up this mess. After that, I’ll meet with the mine management, to ensure ladmium production is on track. Then, I’ll be back.”
“I look forward to it.” The communication ended.
The CommTECH CEO was a piece of work. He’d never met anyone as intelligent or as ruthless. Aligning himself with her, instead of against her, was one of the smartest moves he’d ever made.
He checked the monitors again. There was no movement from inside the little tent. No sound coming from the room. If the bioreadings for the cell hadn’t been telling him there were two bodies in the space, he might have assumed they’d escaped. But there was no escape. Not for them.
Settling in at his desk, Kane went through the reports on the mine. It had only been running a year, and already it had supplied half the amount of ladmium they needed for their new data chips—at a fraction of the cost of buying the mineral legitimately. CommTECH would make a fortune from this deal. And not only in the Territories. If Miriam was right and her plans were successful, CommTECH would rule the world.