Jonas, Lawe and Rule followed him. It was no more than he could expect. Jonas had his games to play, and it was Rule and Lawe’s job to keep him alive while he played them. He might not live much longer though, if he continued to play them with Cabal’s mate.
“Cabal, the van she was taken in is being tracked,” Jonas informed him as they followed him into his room. “We have a team on it now, keeping close behind. We’ll have her location soon.”
“Now.” Cabal threw open the closet door and pulled out the duffel bag he had carried in with him earlier.
“Cabal, we don’t have it now,” Jonas snapped. “For God’s sake, if you mated bastards don’t stop going apeshit like this, then I’m going to start shooting you.”
“Remind me not to tell Jonas if I get infected,” Lawe murmured to Rule.
“Better yet, don’t get infected,” Rule grunted. “I’d hate to have to shoot you myself when you start acting stupid.”
Cabal stared back at them in icy distain before pulling out the weapons he would need. There was a knapsack packed with ammunition and clips. He strapped a dagger to one thigh, a handgun to the other. From the back of the closet he pulled free a rifle stored in its weatherproof bag and pulled the strap over his head and shoulder to allow it to lie comfortably along his back.
“Dammit to hell, Cabal, we have this covered,” Jonas cursed furiously. “Let’s handle this the right way.”
“Your way you mean?” he asked coldly.
“That’s usually the right way,” Jonas informed him.
Cabal shook his head slowly. “Not this time, Jonas. Not this mate. You can ignore yours as long as you want. I’ve claimed mine.” He paused, pain streaking through his soul. “She claimed me.”
He brushed past the three men as he stalked from the room.
Watts hadn’t had time to reach Glen Ferris; Cabal couldn’t imagine he’d had anything to do with this kidnapping. The Coyote spy they had on the team that had broken him out of the prison would have reported it first thing.
Who had taken her?
He slipped silently out of the inn, a shadow, a lethally trained ghost that had once known nothing but the hunt and the kill.
Sliding around the edges of the commotion still ongoing outside the inn, he pinpointed Jonas’s people, and those who weren’t.
There were three Breeds, well trained to blend in, but not blocking their scent as well as they thought they were. How the hell had they gotten the drug that blocked the Breed scent and left only the human scent? The drug Cassa had given them had been tested at Sanctuary. The hormones in it were developed to block scent in Breeds, not humans. Though in humans they blocked all scent, as shown in Cassa.
Breeds were another story though. The drug left only the human scent, and human scent within Breeds was often known to change under duress.
As he watched from the hill above the inn, he saw the sheriff’s subtle looks toward the three Breeds. They took orders from her. She was directing them.
He watched, eyes narrowed, his senses on alert. Danna Lacey was a mated female, though obviously her mate had died, because his scent barely registered on her now. According to the information Jonas had managed to find, her mate had been killed the same night Myron James’s mate died.
And speaking of the reporter, the supposed friend to Cassa, James pulled up, parking his car in the far corner of the inn’s parking lot before getting out slowly.
Sheriff Lacey glanced over at him. There was fear on her face, and indecision. She was still looking around, as were the Breeds that had arrived.
Cabal watched Jonas’s enforcers as they talked to firemen, filled out reports. There were others watching, just as he was. But the explosion had revealed the Breeds. Whoever else might be watching would know how many there were now, and had most likely identified them as well.
Ice filled his veins at the thought of Breeds working against Breeds. These weren’t Coyote, they were Lion and Jaguar, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a Cougar Breed down there as well. These were men who weren’t registered with the Bureau or with Sanctuary.
That made them a target.
Someone had taken his mate, and someone was going to pay for it. God help them all if she was harmed.
Memories of the murdered members of the Dozen flashed through his mind. The horror in their expressions, the pain they had suffered before they died. Cash Winslow had died fighting to breathe. There had been no mercy in his death. There had been pure vindictive hatred in it.
Was Cassa suffering?
Agony streaked through him at the thought.
He hadn’t told her . . . He shook his head. He hadn’t told her that she made him warm inside. That the ice that had filled him for so many years had begun unthawing at her touch.
He had wanted to tell her. As he held her last night. As her soft breaths had caressed his chest and the pads of her fingers had rubbed against his waist, he had wanted to tell her what she was to him.
As he had fought the purr that wanted to rumble in his chest, he had fought the words, held them back, because he didn’t know how to tell her. Didn’t know what to say to her.
And now she was gone, frightened, taken away from him. And he couldn’t tell her.
What had he done? He had wasted so many years because of his own pride, his own stubbornness. He had always known she’d had nothing to do with Watts’s actions, but the very fact that he saw her as his weakness had held him back.
Because of this. Because the thought of losing her was destroying him inside. It was eating away at him in ways he couldn’t fight, couldn’t push back in that icy corner of his soul. Because there was no ice left. Cassa had warmed it, melted it, softened parts of him that he hadn’t even realized were stone hard.
She had made him proud of his stripes as she kissed and licked them. She had made him proud to be a man, to be a Breed, with each soft touch of her hands, each whispered cry of longing as he touched her.
She didn’t know how she had touched him, and that was his fault. She didn’t know how important she was to his life. Hell, he hadn’t known himself until he had heard the countdown to that explosive and realized he could lose her.
She was his mate. She was his heart.
“Cabal, tell me you’re using the comm link.” Jonas’s voice came over the secure link he had placed at his ear.
“I’m watching,” he replied almost silently. “There are three unregistered Breeds taking silent direction from Lacey. James is in sight, for the moment watching only.”
“We have eyes on them as well,” Jonas reported. “Were you detected leaving?”
“Negative.”
“I have two enforcers that didn’t show themselves during the explosion. Mordecai and Tarek Jordan. What’s your location?”
“Close” was all he revealed.
Jonas cursed bitterly. “I need more than this, Cabal.”
“Fuck what you need,” Cabal stated bitterly. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need direction or orders from you, Director.”
He’d had enough. For ten years he’d followed Jonas, worked with him, and though he highly respected the man, he didn’t trust his mate’s life in anyone’s hands but his own.
“We don’t know who has her, Cabal,” Jonas reminded him softly.
“No, we don’t,” he agreed. “But I sure as fucking hell know how to find out.”
And he knew where to go. Who to wait on.
Disconnecting the link, he moved from his position and began his trek up the mountain. The sheriff’s house was about twenty miles away. An easy run for a Bengal Breed. An easy run for a man racing to save his own soul.
His mate.