Cross Breed (Breeds 23)

She came to her feet, kicking off one shoe, uncertain what happened to the other as Breed Enforcers surrounded them and rushed them along the halls.

“Teams are heading out,” the Coyote Breed, Mordecai, yelled as alarms continued to blast through the halls. “Security has a location narrowed down; our enforcers are flying in.”

She could feel Dog’s arm around her waist as he raced down the hall, nearly lifting her off her feet at times as he kept her close to him. They pushed through the basement doors and within minutes they were on the basement floor and pushing through the doors to Information Command.

“Stay here.” Dog swung her around to face him, glaring down at her as he hurriedly strapped on a weapon, his gray eyes cold, hard. “Right here until I get back.”

“Make sure you come back, Dog,” she ordered him. “Don’t you leave me alone. Don’t you dare leave me alone.”

The very thought that he wouldn’t come back wasn’t something she could bear. She couldn’t face it.

“Not even for a heartbeat.” His hand curved around the back of her neck, his head lowering, his lips suddenly catching hers in a kiss that rocked her entire body despite its brevity.

And in that heartbeat, he was gone, pushing through the doors of the room and barking out orders. Savage, hard. Determined.

Her mate.

• • •

Dark had fallen before Dog made it back to the Bureau. They’d found the sniper’s nest, but the only scent to be found was a faint human scent and that of the weapon used. High-grade sniper rifle and matching ammo. The shooter had come on a dirt bike and left the same way just minutes after the satellite that watched over the Bureau began readjusting position.

Someone knew the right time to be there, and exactly where the teams patrolling the desert would be. It was just a matter of timing, but what made them think that bullet would penetrate a window rated to take a much more powerful strike?

They’d known the window would fail, which meant someone had already sabotaged the window’s high-grade electronics.

By time they returned to the Bureau, the Breed investigators had already gone over the shattered debris, found the corrupted electronics and had the evidence in one of the labs. Now the apartment he and Cassie were being given instead was being checked for similar defects in the windows and balcony doors.

And the question remained. Was it a strike against him or against his mate?

Stepping into Cassie’s former room, he came to a hard stop just inside the door, eyes narrowing on the two unfamiliar visitors. The two Wolf Breeds standing next to the window weren’t the investigators Jonas had assigned to go over the room and the window’s electronics.

“Can I help you boys?” he drawled as he stopped just inside the door and allowed Mutt and Mongrel to move around him, flanking him carefully.

The two Breeds, both tall, one with hints of auburn in his brown hair, the other black-haired with hints of dark gray and pale blond strands, tensed at his entrance. They faced him silently, their eyes moving from Mutt and Mongrel back to him.

“We were just looking,” the darker Breed assured him, quiet confidence echoing in his voice as his pale green eyes met Dog’s.

Dog’s brow lifted, his gaze dropping to the shards of the window beneath their feet.

“You’re not the investigators,” he pointed out.

“True.” The Breed inclined his head, the scent of confidence, of inner strength and control, never shifting. “Merely curious.”

Hmm. Curiosity was a Breed fault, he admitted, he had plenty of it himself. Still, this didn’t feel like mere curiosity; this felt more like an agenda to him.

“Satisfied that curiosity yet?” he inquired, moving farther into the room, drawing in the scents he found there as he kept his gaze on the two Breeds.

“Not really.” The Breed sighed and looked around slowly before meeting Dog’s gaze once again. “But we’ll go now. Pardon the intrusion.”

Now, who said Breeds couldn’t be polite? Not that they were, but this proved this one knew how to be.

Dog didn’t move. He remained in front of the doorway, watching as the Breed stopped several feet from him.

There might have been a gleam of amusement in the hard features as their gazes met again.

“Names,” he stated softly, one hand settling on the weapon strapped to his thigh.

The Breed’s lips tilted in a wry curve. “John Kodiak.” His head tilted toward the more watchful Breed. “Troy Rain.”