She didn't know at what point she'd drawn her blades from their sheaths at her back. She felt the chill of custom-tooled metal in her hands, her fingertips light on the scrollwork of the daggers' hilts. Felt her instincts itching to let the blades fly as Rooster shot a sudden glance in her direction.
He saw her, realized she was coming for him. Something flashed in his eyes as they met hers. Panic, certainly. But Mira saw guilt in that worried gaze too. In fact, his oh-shit look seemed to say that she was the last person he expected or wanted to see. He shrank back behind one of his hoodlum pals, as if that fiery shock of upright hair wouldn't give him away.
Mira felt a snarl curl up from the back of her throat. Son of a bitch was going to bolt. And sure enough, he did.
"Damn it!" She shouldered her way through the thick crowd, trying not to lose sight of her quarry as she maneuvered for a clear shot at him with her blades.
Someone saw her drawn weapons and a scream of warning went up. People scrambled out of her way - just long enough that she saw her chance at nailing Rooster. She took it without a hint of hesitation. Her twin blades flew. They arrowed on an unerring path that hit her moving target and skewered him to the far wall, one dagger buried to the hilt in each of the human's thin biceps.
He howled, no longer amused now that he was on the receiving end of a little pain. Mira shoved a few gawking stragglers aside as she closed in on him, venom hot in her veins. She'd already broken one law here tonight; looking at the rebel ally just beyond arm's reach from her, she was tempted to add aggravated homicide to the tab.
A strong hand came down on her shoulder.
"Don't do it, Mira." Nathan. He and the rest of the warriors stood behind her now, disapproval on each hard face.
She realized suddenly how hushed the club had gone. The illegal contest in the cage was over, the spectators now watching the new one Mira had started. The human proprietor of the place and some of his Breed fighters moved in from other areas of the club, their mere presence threatening added trouble if things got any further out of hand.
Shit. Mira knew she'd stepped in it this time, but her blood was still on a hard boil and all she could think about was settling the score for Kellan. One less rebel bastard tonight was a good place to start.
"Let it go," Nathan said, his voice soldier-cool and emotionless, the way she'd heard him speak a thousand times before, even under heavy combat fire. "This is not the way you were trained. You know that."
She did. She knew it, and yet she still threw off Nathan's grip and took a hard lunge toward Rooster, who yowled like a banshee, writhing where he was pinned to the wall. Nathan blocked her. He moved faster than she could track him, placing himself between her and the human.
"Get out of my way, Nathan. You know who this scum hangs with - rebel pigs. Way I see it, that makes him one of them."
"Somebody help me!" Rooster howled. "Somebody call the cops! I'm innocent!"
Mira shook her head, meeting her teammate's disapproving gaze. "He's lying. He knows something, Nathan. I can see it in him. I can feel it. He knows who's responsible for Kellan's death. Damn it, I want someone to pay for what happened to him!"
Nathan's curse was an airless growl. "For fuck's sake, Mira." His eyes were intense but tender. Holding her with a pity that she'd never seen before and hated to acknowledge now. "The only one you're making pay for what happened to Kellan is yourself."
The truth in his words hit her like a slap. She absorbed the blow in a stunned kind of silence, watching as the rest of her squad and Nathan's moved in around the two of them.
"Probably not a good idea to linger down here," Webb remarked to Mira and Nathan when neither had relaxed from their unspoken standoff. "If we don't clean this up quick, things could turn ugly."
Bal swore low under his breath. "Too late for that."
Pouring into the underground club from the street outside came twenty black-clad officers from Joint Urban Security. The JUSTIS detail stormed in, heavily armed, dressed in full riot gear. Mira could only watch - and blame no one but herself - as the law enforcers surrounded them, their automatic weapons trained on her and her teammates.
Chapter Two
LUCAN THORNE COULD THINK OF A HUNDRED OTHER things he'd rather be doing at a little after 1:00 A.M. than sitting idle at his desk in the Order's global headquarters in Washington, D.C., pushing papers and sifting through video mail. Not the least of those preferred other things being the craving to seek out his Breedmate, Gabrielle, and feel her warm, soft curves beneath him in their bed.
No, that was a craving he hadn't been able to shake in all the time she'd been his. A short twenty-plus years with his woman, and she owned him like nothing else had in more than nine centuries of living.
His body eagerly agreed, responding to just the thought of his beautiful mate. Lucan groaned low in his throat and shifted to adjust the sudden tightness in his groin. His pen scraped across the paper as he signed off on what seemed an endless pile of classified Global Nations Council documents and agreements, most pertaining to the world peace summit taking place in the city in less than a week's time.
The pre-summit meetings with other GNC heads - an equal mix of human and Breed world leaders - had been anything but peaceful. But at least the saber-rattling and firefighting had been kept behind closed doors. To their credit, the Council members seemed to understand that letting their personal agendas, political egos, and private mistrust of one another leak out to a wary public would serve no one well. The summit had become as much about putting a shiny, friendly face on human - Breed relations as it was about negotiating true accord between the heads of state who ultimately would be responsible for enforcing that peaceful future for the generations to come.
Lucan could only hope it didn't all crumble down around him before it even began.
He scrawled his signature onto a GNC security briefing and added it to the stack of assorted other approvals he'd already reviewed and cleared for implementation. As he reached for the remaining sheaf of reports, his tablet chimed with an incoming, top-clearance message. He tapped the receive button on-screen and paused to enter the password required to play the v-mail. It was from one of the GNC's senior officials, an elderly human statesman named Charles Benson. The man was also among the more moderate-minded on the Council, an ally Lucan felt would be sorely needed as talks to forge stronger relations between man and Breed continued long after the pomp and flash of the over-hyped peace summit had faded into the grit and mundanity of daily reality.
Lucan set down his pen and watched, guessing that the message must be important for Benson to have contacted him privately and under high-security clearance, besides.
"My apologies for disturbing you with this request at home, Chairman Thorne." The wrinkled face appeared anxious in the recorded video message, thin lips pressing into a flatter line as the old man cleared his throat. "I have a favor to ask of you, if I may. Of the Order, that is. It's of a personal nature, you see."
Lucan scowled at the monitor as the hemming went on. "It's about my nephew. Perhaps you're aware that Jeremy is to receive a very important award from Reginald Crowe's foundation on the eve of the summit gathering."