Three to Get Ready Page 3

  What the hell was this? What was he feeling? He’d never before experienced such a visceral reaction about anyone. And he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle the raw emotions.

  He struggled not to tighten his grip on her arms. She might be stronger than the average human, but her skin would still bruise if he wasn’t careful. “No one is going to hurt you. Especially not me.”

  She snorted, her expression wary as she reached up to tug down the neckline of her sweater. Nael’s gaze lowered to take in the fist-sized scar that marred the smooth caramel of her skin just below her collarbone.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time one of Benson’s flunkies manhandled me,” she rasped.

  Nael’s cat went wild in an instant; snarling, pacing beneath his skin with a feral rage. The wound had to have been grievous to leave such a thick, dramatic scar.

  Or maybe the bastards had used malachite to keep it from healing for their own sick amusement. He’d heard several of the test subjects who’d escaped from Benson’s secret lab reveal that the scientists had taken cruel pleasure in causing pain.

  “Benson did this to you?” His voice was so thick he could hardly form the words.

  “You should know.”

  The accusation made something inside Nael snap. In that moment, he wasn’t the polished diplomat anymore—or the carefree wanderer who walked away when things got messy. He was a Pantera male whose honor was being questioned.

  “I don’t work for Benson,” he growled, closing in on her. “And believe me, if he walked through that door, I would be the one to rip out his throat, no matter what I promised Raph.”

  She frowned. “Who’s Raph? Does he work for Benson too?”

  “Goddamn you, female. Did you hear nothing I just said?”

  “Oh, I heard. And you expect me to believe you? Believe any of this?”

  “I’m the animal, remember?” Her scent was filling his nostrils, his lungs…it was killing him, warning him, tempting him… “Do you really think Benson would sink so low as to employ the likes of me?”

  She froze. Her eyes clamped onto his. “Benson will use whatever tool necessary to achieve his goals.”

  He dropped his head and snarled, cutting her off with one fierce kiss.

  No more words, female.

  She tasted like heaven, warm and sweet. Nael felt himself melt into her, even as his lips were hungry and punishing, even as he coaxed her tongue from her mouth. Mine, his mind screamed as he drank in her heat.

  Without a thought to the cost of his actions, he snaked an arm around her waist and groaned when she softened under him. No hesitation, no attempts to pull away. Instead, she lapped at him and pressed herself tight against his chest. He knew what she was feeling. An almost desperate need. He fucking felt it too. The Pantera blood in her veins was ruling her, and nothing would feed her like he could—like his puma could. If she didn’t understand that now, she would learn soon enough.

  He pressed her back against the door and changed the angle of his kiss, gentling his plunder. He’d started all of this to quiet her, to force her to stop railing against him and his motivations. But now…now, all he wanted was for her to feel what it might be like if they had no clothes between them, if his lips were suckling her nipples and his tongue was playing her sex.

  She made a sound then, a soft mewling sound deep in her throat, and the scent of her rose up and claimed him.

  Goddess, this was torture. Who was this female? Really? Truly?

  Yours, his cat purred.

  The skin around his muscles tightened. Never in his long life had he tasted anything so addicting as this female’s lips.

  Never in his long life had he wanted…more. Everything. To consume and be consumed. To know someone inside and out…

  Fuck.

  He broke their electric bond with another dark curse—this time audible yet under his breath—and drew back a few inches. His gaze ran over her stunned, flushed face, and the pink mouth that was wet and swollen. The desire to rush in and claim her again nearly broke his sanity.

  Not to mention his vow to the League.

  No mates. Nothing that could distract him or be used as a bargaining chip. #GhostStatus, remember?

  He would never be as weak as Cerviel or Elyon.

  “For now,” he began roughly, his breathing uneven, “we’re going to have to trust one another.”

  “I don’t trust anyone.” She swallowed, her nostrils flaring. She was as surprised by their encounter and the insane attraction as he was.

  He eased all the way back now, reluctantly loosening his hold on her. His every instinct urged him to sweep this female off her feet and carry her far, far away from D.C. Maybe to his remote house in the hills of Tuscany. He’d cook her pasta, then drink wine from her sweet, fragrant pus—

  Fucking hell! He killed all thoughts that led to ruin from his mind, then sent them deep into the recesses of his cat’s. He had a mission. Plain and simple. Like any other. To track down the asset before he, or she, could be destroyed.

  He should let her go. This…temptress. Wave sayonara and never allow her within a hundred feet of him again.

  But she was determined to get to Benson, which meant Benson would have access to her too. And he couldn’t allow that. Couldn’t allow even one long dark hair on her head to be touched.

  “Listen,” he began, his brain instantly supplying the excuse it needed. “There’s no way I’m leaving you behind. Not when you’re so eager to stick a knife in my back.”

  She took a shaky step sideways, her expression wary once again. “All you have to do is walk away. From here, from me, and I won’t need to stick a knife anywhere.”

  Not. Happening.

  Nael bent down to grab her knife off the floor. “The only place I’m going is into the house to look for Benson. You can come with me or I can tie you to the chair until I get back.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged.

  “Oh, honey…” He chuckled darkly.

  Her eyes narrowed. “It’s my turn,” she said in low tones. “Who are you?”

  “Nathanael.” He offered the name given to him by Raph when he’d become a member of the Six. “But most call me Nael.”

  She studied him with a searching gaze. “That’s unusual.”

  “It means the angel who rules over fire, vengeance and hidden things,” he revealed.

  When Raph had baptized him into the League, he’d said that Nael might not have the raw power of many Pantera, but Raph was convinced that he was a true a force of nature.

  As well as ruthless and cunning when he was on the hunt.

  “It suits you,” she said, not offering an explanation why, though her gaze roamed his face. “If you’re not working for Benson, then why are you here?”

  “I’m looking for answers.”

  She sniffed with irritation. “Yeah, that’s not at all vague.”

  Nael hesitated, choosing his words with care. “What we know is that Benson has…assets who we believe possess information that could be critical to the welfare of the Wildlands.”

  One dark brow lifted. “Now you sound like a politician.”

  He shrugged his agreement. “That comes from dealing with the bloodsuckers for countless years.”

  “Dealing with them? What’s that mean?”

  “It’s all I can say.”

  “So much for trust.”

  With a shake of his head, Nael headed for the door. As much as he wanted to reassure his companion, he didn’t have the time. He’d already been distracted for longer than was prudent. His target might be in the mansion at this very moment. If Benson had arrived to destroy him or her, then Nael couldn’t waste a second.

  “Are you coming with me or not?” he asked as he shoved open the door.

  She muttered a curse. “Like I have a choice?” she demanded, following behind him.

  A quick, satisfied grin touched Nael’s lips and he deliberately slowed his pace, so they were walking side by s
ide. Although she’d tucked the knife back into her pocket, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  He didn’t know if she was truly going to work as his partner or take another stab at him.

  Excitement hummed through him. Ridiculous, but the not knowing what this female would or wouldn’t do was as intoxicating as Z’s famous homebrew.

  That stuff would peel paint off a barn.

  Heading toward the back of the estate, Nael paused in the shadows. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Instantly he caught the scent of a human. His nose wrinkled. Sweat. Garlic. And stale cigarette smoke. He held Miranda’s gaze, silently warning her not to make a sound.

  A minute later, the dull thud of footsteps echoed in the air, then slowly began to fade. Obviously it was a guard making his rounds.

  He waited until the stench of the man had wafted away, then he gave a small nod toward Miranda.

  Without hesitation, she leapt up to grab the top of the fence. Then, with a grace that revealed she was no longer just another human, she pulled herself over the wide brick barrier and disappeared from view.

  Damn. Hot.

  Nael quickly followed behind her, leaping up and over the fence to land on the thick layer of mulch. The snows had melted weeks ago and the first hardy spring flowers were beginning to peek out of the ground.

  He glanced quickly around. The backyard was a flat expanse with no cover to reach the rear terrace. If someone inside the massive house happened to glance out, they would easily see them approaching.

  His attention turned toward the gardens that ran from the garage to a set of French doors at the side of the house. Perfect.

  Apparently noticing the most obvious place to sneak past any security at the same time he did, Miranda was jogging along the edge of the fence before darting toward the back of the garage.

  A growl rumbled in his throat. He was going to have a word with her about freelancing during the middle of their mission.

  With a burst of speed, he was quickly moving past her to take the lead through the garden. He heard her mutter something beneath her breath.

  It sounded something remarkably like pushy prick.

  His lips twitched. The one thing he would never have to worry about with Miranda Arnaz was boredom.

  She was the most unique, fascinating and fierce creature he’d ever met.

  Not to mention, she tasted like heaven.

  Nael gave a small shake of his head. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not when both of their lives depended on his skills as a spy.

  They reached the French doors and Nael reached into his pocket to pull out the small gizmo that Xavier had invented. The head of the Geeks wasn’t only a prime-time hacker; he had a wicked talent for creating ways to bypass human security systems.

  Attaching the round gizmo that looked like a watch battery to the electronic keyboard, he stepped back. Ten seconds later, he watched as sparks flew from the keypad, and he heard the door unlatch.

  Miranda blinked, studying him with a grudging expression of respect. Obviously she’d assumed his worth as a partner was just above that of a dung beetle.

  He tried not to puff up with pride. So far she was impressed with Xavier’s clever gizmo that he was plucking off the keypad and tucking back into his pocket. He wanted her impressed with his own talents.

  Pushing open the French door, Nael moved into the long room that had a bunch of frou-frou sofas and chairs that looked too fragile to sit on. He barely noticed as he crossed to peek out the nearest door into the wide foyer.

  Breathing in deeply, he caught the scent of two humans.

  He glanced over his shoulder, surveying Miranda’s determined expression. In the fading afternoon sunlight, her eyes glowed with a lust for revenge and her hair was threaded with highlights of fire.

  Heat. Passion. Pure female glory.

  Confident Miranda had his back, he stepped into the foyer and headed across the marble floor.

  They moved in silence, Nael’s heightened senses capable of warning him if anyone was approaching the front of the house.

  In just a few minutes, they’d reached the narrow door beneath the sweeping staircase, where Nael had detected the scent of humans. A quick glance into the room, however, proved it was an expanded closet that was being used by the security staff.

  Nael caught sight of a line of monitors as well as two uniformed men seated at a long desk before he was pulling back with a frustrated shake of his head.

  Where the hell was Benson?

  As if she could read his mind, Miranda gave a jerk of her head toward the nearby hallway. Nael frowned, but she lightly touched her nose, and he realized she was telling him that she recognized Benson’s scent.

  Or she’s leading you into a trap, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

  It was a voice that he normally relied on, but this time he easily squashed it.

  His cat trusted this woman. And that was all he needed.

  He nodded, and before he could protest, she was taking the lead. Dammit.

  They moved quickly toward the back of the house, ending up in the kitchen. Empty. Nael frowned, but Miranda continued forward, slowly pushing open the door to the pantry that was the size of most people’s apartment. Still nothing.

  “Did he go out the back door?” he asked in a low voice.

  She shook her head, moving toward the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the far wall. Without warning, she put her hands against the wooden structure and gave it a shove. Instantly it swung backward to reveal a hidden doorway.

  Chapter Four

  Miranda grimaced. The air in the narrow escape tunnel was brutally thick. Add to it Nael’s smoldering frustration, and the uncharted route felt like something akin to pea soup.

  Her lungs were protesting.

  And her head was doing that strange buzzing dizziness thing that she’d been feeling over the past several months.

  Finding the hidden entrance in the pantry had offered her a momentary flare of hope. After all this time, after the years of painful injections, being held captive, curled up naked and freezing in that cage while plotting his slow and painful demise, she at last had Christopher Benson cornered. Oh…and she was going to make him suffer. Forget what he’d done to her. The slow, vengeful death she had planned for him was a gift, a final offering to her beloved twin sister.

  But as soon as she and Nael had stepped into the dark, cramped space, she’d realized it wasn’t a room at all. Instead, it was a short hallway that led to a staircase heading down to a tunnel that was dug beneath the estate.

  Forcing back her anger and disappointment, she’d followed the dark, dirt-packed passageway, Nael behind her, to another set of stairs. Once again, she’d hoped Benson was within her grasp. But when they’d pushed up the manhole cover, it was only to discover that they were several feet beyond the fence. And that it would have been a simple matter for Benson to enter the tunnel and have a car waiting on the other end. Bastard… No one would have spotted him leaving. And now there was no way to follow him.

  In the same silence, they’d reentered the tunnel and headed back to the house.

  “He must have spotted me following him and used this passageway to escape,” she muttered in disgusted tones, her head clearing of the annoying dizzy sensation.

  Nael climbed the steps and cautiously pushed open the door to examine the kitchen before allowing her to join him. As she stepped forward, his hand lightly grasped her shoulder.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” he commanded in a low voice. “The slippery bastard always assumes that someone is hunting him. That’s why he has a dozen places like this spread across the country. And why we haven’t managed to catch him.”

  Perhaps ridiculously, his words eased the sick knot in the pit of her gut. Sometimes she allowed her anger toward Christopher Benson and her grief for her sister to overwhelm her.

  She squared her shoulders. This was just another hurdle she had to jump over.

  “What
now?” she demanded.

  He led her across the kitchen and into the hallway. Pausing at each door, they peeked in before moving on.

  “We continue to search for the asset or find something that will lead me to it,” he said, the words so soft only her superior hearing could have heard them.

  “I don’t care about your asset,” she retorted, her voice equally soft. “I want Benson dead. I need…him…dead.” Her voice broke ever so slightly, but she recovered quickly.

  Or so she thought. Nael glanced over his shoulder, his compelling blue eyes searching hers. He wanted to know. But he didn’t ask.

  “I’m hoping we can accomplish both finding the asset and Benson’s demise,” he said at last. “Trust me?”

  “I told you—” she began.

  “You don’t trust anyone. I know. But maybe you can make an exception. Just this once.”

  It was all he said before he turned around and started for the next door. She followed him, even as a voice in the back of her head warned her not to. Warned her that trusting, believing anyone after what she’d lived through, was foolish at best. But hell, she knew how to handle herself, and if Nael could get her to Benson even quicker, easier…wasn’t it worth the risk?

  Maybe even worth the strange and ever-present attraction she had for him?

  “At last,” Nael muttered as he pushed open the next door.

  Motioning for her to follow him, they entered the large study. Everything was wood and leather, with endless shelves of dusty books. Nael crossed the Persian carpet toward the desk that was positioned beneath a massive bay window offering a billion-dollar view of the front yard.

  Each taking a side, they pulled open drawers, searching through the various files and stacks of mail. Then, Nael reached for the middle drawer. He yanked, then yanked again.

  It was locked.

  He moved so he had leverage and gave another yank. This time the sound of splintering wood echoed through the silence. They both glanced toward the open door, making sure no one had been alerted by the noise. Finally, Nael wrestled the broken drawer open to reveal there was nothing inside beyond a small computer flash drive. He reached to grab it, sliding it into his pocket.