Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

The message below was cold: Do not attempt to track the child. Do it and we will cut her into small pieces which we will send to you by mail. Any rescue attempt or perceived attempt by BlackSea will equal her death.

Jawbones grinding against one another, he put Zaira’s phone on the small table she’d brought from her Venice room and that now sat to one side of their bed. “They don’t know we’re working with BlackSea.”

“Exactly.” Rage vibrated in her own voice, but it was frigid. “Miane’s people can’t risk being caught—they’ll continue to work behind the scenes in the search to find Persephone and the other missing members of their pack, but they need our help for live actions.” She turned to face him. “I don’t have any other pressing mission briefs. I want to focus on this.”

Aden didn’t even have to think about it. “Do it,” he said, not only because no child should have to suffer such hell, but because Zaira needed to save this one child as she hadn’t been able to save herself. “Use whatever resources you need.”

Hands fisted, Zaira gave a small, frustrated scream. “The thing is—I don’t know where to go,” she said, her voice taut. “None of my search bots on the PsyNet or Internet have turned up anything.”

None of Aden’s sources had unearthed anything, either. “I’ll speak to Krychek, see if the NetMind or—” He froze, his mind shining a thin beam of light on a near-forgotten piece of data. “Hashri Smith’s business associates,” he said. “The woman.”

Zaira sat up on her knees, her hair wild around her shoulders. “She was asked to wire a bribe to an official in Denver six months ago in order to expedite certain building permits—but the owners of those buildings are all ordinary people.” She shoved back her hair. “Deep background, telepathic scans, none of it points to any kind of involvement in the conspiracy.”

Having already pulled up the report on an organizer, Aden scrolled down. “Secondary report confirms the first. We’re keeping an eye on them, but so far, it looks like someone did them a favor for no discernible reason. The e-mails we were able to retrieve show them expressing surprised delight at the swiftness of the permits.”

Zaira blew out a breath and, getting out of bed, began to pace. Since she was dressed in only a pair of black panties, the sight was distracting despite the serious nature of their discussion, but Aden didn’t tell her to put on clothes. He was an Arrow, not an idiot.

“Why offer a bribe to expedite permits that provide you with no advantage?” Zaira frowned, turned on her heel, and continued to pace. “It’s not like the contracts with Smith and the others. These people have no idea they were done a favor and no reason to believe anyone who claims to have facilitated it.”

Aden tapped the organizer on his knee, the whole situation niggling at him. “That’s exactly it. The people running this op aren’t stupid—their every action has been well thought out, planned. I can’t believe they’d waste several thousand dollars on creating a pointless dead end.”

Jumping on the bed, Zaira grabbed the organizer, then made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know how to find the data I need!”

Aden gave in to temptation and, wrapping his arms around her, dropped a kiss to the tip of one bare breast. “I’ll wake Tamar. Put on some clothes.”

Fingers weaving through his hair, Zaira pressed her lips to his temple. “After we find Persephone,” she whispered, “we’ll take a whole night just for us.”

“Deal.”

Tamar was rubbing her eyes when she walked into the restricted underground part of the main training complex, the natural tight curls of her hair looking as if she’d stuck a finger into an electrical socket, and her clothing yellow pajamas with white stars on them that had Axl taking a long look as he came in at the same time.

Then his eyes dipped to the pink sheepskin boots into which Tamar had shoved her feet.

“Civilian,” Tamar said before he could make a comment. “Civilian who has had only four hours of sleep because she’s obsessed with ripping apart all these shell companies upon shell companies.”

Axl ran his eyes up and down again. “How exactly did you pass for Silent? Was the examiner blind and psychically deaf?”

Tamar made a face at him. “Go on and take your vitamins, Battle-Ax. No creaky old men needed here.” Stomping into tech central on the insult, the entire room lined with banks of computers, she sat down in front of the central core and proved that her brain was functioning at full capacity. “What do you need?”

Zaira braced her hand on Tamar’s desk while Aden took a minute to touch base with Axl, no doubt checking on his physical and psychic status. “Can you dig up all building permits that bear the signature of the official who received the bribe?” she asked Tamar.

“Sure.” The younger woman began to work. “It’ll be hundreds if not thousands. Time frame will narrow it.”

“Month on either side of the bribe,” Zaira said after a moment’s thought. “We can go wider if this doesn’t pan out.”

“Or if it does.” Aden’s quiet words had her looking up. “If he can be bribed once . . .”

Zaira nodded, watched Tamar work. Creaky old man? she telepathed when Tamar paused to allow the computer to run the search algorithm she’d just input.

Heat bloomed under the silken ebony of the other woman’s skin. He always makes me feel like a child with dirt on my face. Her fingers raced over the old-fashioned physical keyboard she preferred over a projected one. “Got it. Main screen.”