Taken by Midnight (Midnight Breed 8)

"I hope we didn't need that bridge back there, because you may have just torched it," Brock said as they reached the vehicle.

Chase didn't answer. Nothing but quiet at Brock's back. Too much quiet, in fact.

He pivoted around. All he found was a lot of empty space where Chase had been standing just a second ago. He was gone, vanished without excuse or explanation, into the snowy night.

Chapter Sixteen

A couple hours after dinner with Alex, Jenna was seated in the Breedmates' war room, at the very conference table where she and Brock had opened a door that likely neither one of them had been prepared to walk through. But she tried not to think about that. She tried not to think about Brock's sensual mouth on hers, or his skilled hands, which had given such intense pleasure even as he drew away her grief and inhibitions.

Instead, she rooted her attention on the discussion taking place between the women of the Order who were gathered in the room to review the status of their mission to locate the captives being held by Dragos. Only Tess was absent from the meeting, the pregnant Breedmate having apparently begged off to rest in her and Dante's quarters while keeping little Mira company, as well.

"She's not feeling ill, is she?" Alex asked. "You don't think the baby might be coming early?"

Savannah gave a mild shake of her head as she rested her elbows on the table. "Tess says she feels great, just a little tired. It's understandable.

She's down to just a few weeks now."

There was the faintest hesitation in her voice, then her gaze drifted subtly toward Jenna. A silent curiosity lingered in her eyes. At that moment, Jenna noticed that Savannah's palms were pressed against the table. Her slim black brows lifted slightly, and it was obvious from the partial quirk of her mouth that her Breedmate talent for reading objects with a touch had just told her--no doubt, in vivid detail--of the passionate kiss Jenna and Brock had shared on that very surface.

When embarrassment started to make Jenna look away, Savannah merely smiled in serene amusement and gave her a small nod as if to say she approved.

"You know, Dante's got a pool going on the delivery date," Dylan piped in. "Rio and I have our money on a Christmas baby."

Renata shook her head, the blunt ends of her dark hair swinging around her chin. "New Year's Eve, you wait and see. Dante's son would never miss an excuse for a party."

At the far end of the table, Gabrielle laughed. "Lucan will never admit that he's looking forward to having a baby in the compound, but I have it on good authority that five bucks was placed on December twentieth recently."

"Is there something special about that date?" Jenna asked, caught up in the excitement and genuinely curious to know.

"It's Lucan's birthday," Elise said, sharing Gabrielle's humor. "And Tegan put a hundred dollars on February fourth, knowing full well it was much too late to be in the running."

"February fourth," Savannah said, nodding with serene understanding.

Elise's smile was tender with memories, bittersweet. "The night that Tegan found me hunting Rogues in Boston and tried to put a stop to it."

Dylan reached out and squeezed the other Breedmate's hand. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

As the chatter of small, everyday things gave way to more serious talk of pursuing leads and formulating new mission strategies, Jenna felt her respect growing for the smart, determined mates of the Order's warriors.

And despite the earlier assurances that Tess's exhaustion was nothing to worry about, she found herself concerned about her, too, feeling as though the fabric of the gathering was missing one of its most vibrant threads.

A thought struck Jenna as she quietly observed, taking in the faces of the other women in the room: Somehow, she had begun to consider all of them her friends. These women mattered to her, and so did their goals. As adamant as she was that she didn't belong in this place, among these people, she realized that she wanted to see them succeed.

She wanted to see the Order defeat Dragos, and there was a part of her--a very determined part--that wanted to have a hand in making that happen.

Jenna eagerly listened as Elise discussed the status of the new sketches she and Claire Reichen had been working on with Elise's artist contact in the local Darkhaven. "It should only be another couple of days before we have finished sketches to work with. Claire has been amazing, making sure every detail is just as she recalls it from her dreamwalk into Dragos's lab. She's got meticulous notes, and her memory is incredible."

"That's good," Renata said. "We're going to need all the help we can get. Unfortunately, Dylan and I have run into a slight snag on Sister Margaret."

"She's living in a home for retired nuns down in Gloucester," Dylan interjected. "I spoke to the administrator, and told her that my mom and Sister Margaret used to work together at the women's shelter in New York. I didn't mention what we were really looking for, of course. Instead I set it up as a personal call, and asked if it would be possible to visit with the sister sometime and chat about her years of volunteer work--maybe reminisce a bit about my mom. The good news is, Sister Margaret loves having company."

"So, what's the snag?" Jenna asked, unable to keep from jumping on this new intel trail herself.

"Dementia," Renata replied.

Dylan nodded. "Sister Margaret's been suffering from it for the past couple of years. The house admin said there's a good chance she might not remember much about my mom or her work at the shelter."

"But it's still worth a try, right?" Jenna glanced around at the other women. "I mean, any lead is a good one at this point. There are lives on the line here, so we have to make use of everything we can. Whatever it takes to find those women and bring them home."