Lion's Heat (42 page)

Jonas stared back at him coldly, silently.

Svenson grunted before he and the driver stepped from the vehicle and the back door opened.

"Now, let's be polite and not try any of that Breed-going-nuts bullshit, okay?" he warned as he waved them toward the cabin with one hand while he held the gun on them with the other.

Polite? Jonas was never polite.

Rachel fought back a hard shudder of fear as Jonas's hand landed at her lower back while he escorted her to the cabin. His palm was a warm, heavy weight as they stepped up on the rough stone porch and the front door eased open slowly.

She wasn't panicking, Rachel thought. There were no premonitions of danger such as the ones she had felt returning home the night Brandenmore had been in her house.

Stepping into the cabin, Rachel felt nothing but anger, and an overriding fear for Jonas. He would die before he allowed anything to happen to Amber. Though she knew he was attempting to give the appearance of unconcern, she knew there was no way he would allow their child to be harmed.

Their child. As the heat from the fireplace slapped her in the face, Rachel realized that Amber had always been their child.

Then, she came face-to-face with the man who had fathered Amber once again.

Devon sat with Phillip Brandenmore in the cabin's open sitting area. Relaxing in the leather recliner, obviously more than a little drunk, Devon appeared smug, triumphant, as she and Jonas were escorted into the room.

Phillip Brandenmore, on the other hand, simply seemed satisfied. For some reason, he appeared to think he had won. And if his expression was anything to go by, he believed he was being benevolent in his victory.

"Have a seat, Jonas." Brandenmore gestured to the leather sofa across from Devon's chair and parallel to the couch Brandenmore was seated on.

Sitting in the corner, the other man stretched his arm along the armrest before lifting his drink, which had been resting against his knee. He sipped at the golden liquor slowly as he watched Jonas with the careful regard men used when a wild animal crossed their paths.

"Director Wyatt." Brandenmore extended his hand to the sofa. "Thank you for joining us. Can I get you a drink?"

Rachel was almost amused at Brandenmore's cordial tone.

"No thank you." Precise, unaccented, Jonas's tone was like ice. "Shall we get to the point instead?"

Brandenmore sighed heavily. "You moved up my schedule a bit, I must say. I had intended on waiting a few weeks to allow my spy within Sanctuary to be able to gather the information I needed."

Rachel hid her surprise. She knew the tireless search that had been waged for any remaining spies, only to come up empty-handed.

"You mean the bugs you had programmed into our computers?" Jonas's words shocked her even more. She hadn't pieced that together yet.

She knew the virus hadn't made sense. Sherra was diligent about the computers, as were the lionesses who operated them and the rest of their computer security staff, especially after discovering that information had been stolen via a new program that had hidden secrets in innocuous emails.

"Yes." Brandenmore smiled as Devon shot him an irritated look. "The bugs. They were rather ingenious, I must say. I was within days of cashing in on the information they had been gathering when you so obviously found them."

"They were programmed to wipe their tracks and self-destruct." Jonas had already guessed that one.

"You owe me for that one, Phillip," Devon bit out mulishly. "That program was rather expensive."

"I owe your father," Brandenmore shot back in irritation.

There was a tension between the two men, an anger that wasn't entirely understandable, Rachel thought. Then again, she couldn't bring herself to understand what they were doing together in the first place.

"Where's my kid?" Devon turned and caught Rachel's look. His brows lowered ominously. "I told you to abort the little bastard, but you had to make my life hell, didn't you?"

"I've decided to make it my life's goal," she agreed pleasantly as hatred rolled through her. "I so enjoy knowing you're here to make my life hell."

"Smart-mouthed bitch." His lips twisted in a sneer.

Jonas growled. The sound was low, throbbing with power and danger. Enough so that Devon flinched.

"The boy never learned good manners. Although his father often tried to instill them, his mother just undid all the good his father tried to accomplish." Brandenmore gave Devon another disgusted look as he finished the explanation.

"I want the kid." Devon ignored his elder's silencing look.

"Amber is my child," Rachel informed him calmly. She wanted to reach out and rake her nails down his eyes. She wanted to rip out his tongue.

"Enough bullshit. Let's get to the point here," Jonas snapped out, his hand clamping loosely on Rachel's arm as he upheld the appearance she knew he wanted to give: that she was no more than a woman he was now tied to through a biological mating.

Rachel hoped they weren't paying attention to the small, imperceptible strokes of Jonas's fingers against her wrist, or how he kept her close to his own body; otherwise, he had given them both away.

Not that Rachel couldn't hide the fact that she was leaning on his strength. The longer they sat there, the more that gut-deep feeling of dread was beginning to build in her.

"The point is, I want the child." Brandenmore set his glass on the table in front of him before leaning back to watch them with a cold, assessing gaze. "Lions don't enjoy having the young of other males around them," he continued. "I'll do you a favor and solve a small problem I have in the process."

"No!" Rachel couldn't hold back the instinctive denial. Her body clenched, tightened to the point that the warning grip of Jonas's fingers on her arm was barely felt.

"And what problem do you have, Brandenmore, that an infant can solve for you?" Jonas queried, his tone so icy cold that Rachel nearly shivered and almost believed that he was actually considering the proposal.

"Her mother is a Breed mate." He nodded his head in Rachel's direction. "If my preliminary tests are correct, then that would make her child compatible to Breed physiology as well. I'd like to conduct some simple, rather painless tests over the course of her primary years into adulthood. She would be well cared for." He leaned forward, his expression sincere. "She would have a good life and provide an invaluable service as well."

"And that service would be?"

She knew Jonas. Knew his moods, his expressions, the progression of ice in his voice, and she knew that in this moment, the animal inside him was as close to breaking free as she had ever sensed it.

"The Breed mating-age phenomenon." Excitement colored his voice, narrowed his eyes and lent a glow of fanaticism to his expression. "Neither Breeds nor their mates age once mating occurs. We know that now. I want to know why. I could duplicate it, create a serum. All I need is a viable, healthy child whose biology is compatible."

"And how do you know this child is the one you need?" Jonas asked.

"I took blood and urine samples while I had her," he gloated. "I had her for hours--enough time to collect what I needed for the proper tests. Rachel and Devon's child is compatible. Devon's parents have advanced millions of dollars to the project, and my friends in the Middle East have provided the perfect lab to work in."

"You would need a Breed to test her with. How did you achieve that?" Jonas was full of questions.

Rachel had to fight back her horror, her tears, as she stared at Devon's mutinous expression. He and his parents had sold his child to a monster. For what? For an anti-aging serum that might or might not work?

She couldn't hide the fact that she was shaking from the inside out now, nor could she hide the complete fury beginning to engulf her.

"It was fairly easy to achieve." Brandenmore shrugged then. "We have so many Breed blood, urine and semen samples that have been preserved both by myself as well as the Genetics Council. Testing her against them wasn't that difficult."

"She would have only matched to a specific Breed," Jonas pointed out. "Her mate."

Did Amber have a mate? How could that be possible? She was only a baby.

"Mating tests are unreliable until adulthood, Brandenmore," Jonas continued. "We've proven that."

"A mating test, true." He nodded. "But not a compatibility test, which is what I have created."

He was so filled with self-importance now, so triumphant as he stared at Jonas, certain he would agree to give Amber up.

"Jonas, make him stop with this," she whispered, desperate now to erase the horror of what Brandenmore was suggesting.

Brandenmore shot her a pitying look as Devon glared at her in disgust.

"Shut the fuck up, Rachel," Devon snapped. "She's my kid too. You can have more brats with your lover here. Let me have Amber."

"So you can kill her?" she yelled, staring at him, wondering why she hadn't seen the evil that had infected him while they'd lived together.

"No one's going to kill her. She would be useless dead." Devon laughed in ridicule. "Get a grip. You always overdramatized things to the point of ridiculousness."

"Enough." Jonas's voice was low, a throbbing sound of power that immediately silenced Devon.

"He'll kill you for insulting his mate, my boy." Brandenmore laughed. "He might not love her, she might be a shackle about his ankle, but that animal inside him will protect her with his last breath." He looked at Jonas. "That kid is another matter, isn't it, Mr. Wyatt?"

"So you're suggesting I give you Amber, in exchange for what, exactly?" Jonas asked.

Brandenmore leaned forward again, that fanatic light still gleaming in his eyes. "Well, number one, in exchange for your lives." He smiled. "Secondly though, I will share my research with your scientists. It's my understanding that mating heat is causing no small amount of discomfort, at least according to the medical assistants you caught helping me not long ago. This is a win-win situation for you, Jonas."

A win-win situation? Who lost? Definitely she would lose, her child, the most precious treasure in her life. Amber would lose her life, if not in the first weeks of this so-called research, then in the years following.

Rachel stared at Brandenmore, then at Devon.

"That's your daughter," she whispered, wondering how she could ever face the questions Amber would eventually have about her father now. "How could you do this, Devon?"

He finished his drink off quickly before sneering back at her. "I told you to abort the brat, Rachel. You didn't do it. Phillip can at least use her efficiently."

Rachel flinched. Jonas growled, low and dangerous, as Phillip Brandenmore stared back at Jonas in surprise, as though he recognized the inherent danger in the sound.

"Mr. Wyatt," Brandenmore said carefully, "you want to consider this. We both know the child means nothing to you, but your mate does. You'll call Sanctuary and have the child flown to a location I'll give you. Once I have her, you'll be released."

Rachel heard the low hum of laser weapons powering up behind her.

She was shaking her head. Tears were rolling down her cheeks; she was trembling from the inside out, until that moment.

"No," she whispered. "I won't let you . . ."

"But it's not your choice," Brandenmore informed her. "It's your mate's. And tell me, Ms. Broen, what do you think that animal inside him is demanding that he do? He wants rid of that kid because it's not his. She isn't his blood, or his species; therefore, she is a hindrance to his Pride, a threat to his leadership and the future leadership of his rightful children."

"This isn't the Middle Ages," she exclaimed.

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid little bitch." Devon's glass flew across the room and shattered on the wall as everyone stared back at him. "You will give him that little brat or I'll have her killed. Take your pick."

"No, you won't," Jonas growled, the hard, dangerous rumble of his voice filling the silence with a bone-chilling wave of vicious intent.

"Of course he won't." Brandenmore was definitely aware of the murderous undercurrents filling the room now. "Jonas, Amber won't be harmed. I swear it. You won't lose in this, and your mate can't hate you. The only way to save her is to trade the kid for her. That simple."

Jonas breathed in slowly, subtly, careful to make certain no one was aware of the scents he was drawing in. There were Breeds outside, more than one. Four of them were from Ghost Team. He'd seen the glow of Jag's green eyes minutes before in the window behind Devon's head.

There were others. Lawe was out there, Rule, Mercury and, strangely enough, Jonas could smell Leo and Dane Vanderale. Not that Dane had much of a scent to him; it was always carefully disguised. But there was the barest familial scent, which Jonas could never have mistaken.

He'd waited, restrained the animal clawing at his insides with brutal, bruising strength to be free. He'd held on to his control, fought the rage, until the others were in place.

The smell of Brandenmore's lies mingled with those of the Breeds. He was a monster. Jonas had no idea what he had planned for Amber, but it wasn't the existence he had described. Amber would know nothing but pain. If reports were correct concerning the rumors of some of the experiments conducted by the man over the years, she would be lucky to live weeks, let alone into adulthood.

"I'll even pacify your mate as best I can." Brandenmore was smiling, his beady eyes filled with malice cloaked by sincerity.

The man should have been an actor. He would have won an Oscar.

"I'll send photos, keep her updated on the kid's progress. Maybe even phone calls for a while." He smiled benevolently toward Rachel.

Horror was pouring from her. Tears stained her pale cheeks; rage ate at her. She was in control. She had, like Jonas, managed to restrain the need to kill.

His hand tightened on her wrist, his fingers stroking a pattern of warning across her flesh until he felt her tense, felt the moment she realized the pad of his finger was carefully outlining the letters to a very short message.
Be ready.