Crave The Night (Midnight Breed 12)

Jolted, Nathan swung his head around from the table and chair where he was seated and found Sterling Chase leaning against the jamb of the open weapons room door.

Jesus Christ. He’d been so engrossed in his work, his head full of steam and troubling realizations, he hadn’t even heard the commander arrive.

It was early morning at the Order’s Boston headquarters. Most everyone in the compound and the connected estate would be in bed. Nathan, however, had been awake and twitchy ever since he and his team returned to base last night. A couple hours ago, he’d finally given up the idea of sleep and decided to make some productive use of his restlessness.

He met Chase’s stare. Years of old training schooled his expression to a bland, unreadable mask before he went back to cleaning and lubricating the field-stripped black Beretta 9 mm. “Didn’t expect to see you down here at this hour. How long you been standing there?”

“Couple of minutes,” Chase said. “Long enough. You wanna talk about it?”

With nimble fingers, Nathan reassembled the pistol and set it aside. “Nope.”

Chase strode into the room now and took up a position next to Nathan’s worktable, his thick arms crossed over his chest. He wore a white short-sleeve T-shirt and loose gray sweats, his trim golden hair rumpled.

At the moment, Sterling Chase looked less like the impeccable, tight-ship captain he was and more like a man with troubles of his own. Troubles that dragged him from the comfort of the warm bed he shared with his mate at an unholy, early hour.

“Looks like you’ve been up for a while yourself.” Nathan glanced at him sidelong. “Maybe you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Chase smirked and blew out a short sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to get used to the fact that Carys moved out. Tavia doesn’t like it either, but she says we have to give her time. Give her space.” A growl rumbled in the vampire’s chest. “If anything happens to her … if anyone hurts her now that she’s living outside my direct protection—”

“She’s doing all right,” Nathan said. “She has people looking out for her.”

Chase scoffed. “Jordana Gates may be well connected in the Darkhavens, but no one she knows is going to keep my little girl safe the way her mother and I can.”

“Your little girl is a full-grown woman,” Nathan pointed out. “She’s making her own choices. You have to trust her. Hold her too close and you’ll only make her pull away harder.”

“Philosophy at this hour—and from you, besides?” Chase chuckled, then gave a nod. “It’s good advice, Nathan. Gonna be damned hard to follow it, though. And if Carys ends up getting harmed by anyone in any way—”

“Then she’ll have you and all the rest of the Order making sure someone pays,” Nathan said.

“Damn straight she will,” Chase agreed, his blue eyes glittering with menace. He went quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat. “My daughter’s actually not the only reason I’m pacing the halls this morning.”

Nathan glanced up. “What’s going on?”

“Gideon called a few minutes ago from D.C. One of Crowe’s exes surrendered some interesting news under tranced interrogation today. Seems Reginald Crowe had a mistress.”

That was the most promising intel they’d uncovered so far. “Who? Where can we find her?”

“Ireland. Dublin, according to the former Mrs. Crowe,” Chase said. “As for the who of it, we’re still trying to figure that out. We don’t even have a name yet. All we know is that Crowe’s ex claims he saw this woman frequently during their marriage and that it had been going on for quite some time.”

Nathan’s veins lit up with the instinctive, predatory spark of his assassin past. “We’ve got to find her. We’ve got to find her now. I can be ready to roll out anytime, if you need me to go in solo and see this done.”

“You’re best utilized right here in Boston, going after Cassian Gray. Besides, we have boots on the ground over there already. Mathias Rowan’s team in London will be mobilizing at sundown tonight. Lucan’s put this in their court for now.” Chase narrowed a look on him. “You’ve never walked away from a mission. You’re not looking to do that now, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Nathan replied, a brisk denial, even though his conscience pricked him.

Had he been hoping for a reassignment? One that would put a whole continent between him and Jordana Gates?

Fuck, he didn’t know what to think about that.

Chase studied him now. “You seem … unfocused, my man. Like you’re walking a dangerous edge. What’s going on with you? When’s the last time you fed?”

“I was with a blood Host last night,” he replied, the unwanted reminder of the brunette from La Notte’s BDSM club making his voice darken to a growl.

Chase seemed to consider for a long moment, his shrewd gaze lingering for longer than Nathan liked. But his commander didn’t challenge the lie, even if he suspected it.

“I’ll leave you to your work,” he said, and headed for the door. “Good job last night. If nothing bubbles up to the surface on Cassian Gray today, let’s hit him even harder again tonight.”

Nathan gave him a vague nod. Only after Chase was gone back up the corridor did Nathan release the curse that had been burning like acid on his tongue.