Gideon sighed at the loss. There were times in the past three days as he followed her, that he hadn’t felt so alone in this quest. He had felt that someone, who might even understand his desperation, was there with him. Her battle to save her niece was a noble one. And one he understood. Unfortunately, it was also one she could possibly lose.
She was unique, even to him, and learning more about her would be imperative before he struck to take the prize she would find for him. He didn’t kill innocents.
Even the medical assistants in the Brandenmore labs had been spared. He hadn’t held them responsible for the horrors suffered there. They had fought on many occasions to ease the agony or delay the tests, to allow him a chance to recover before they were repeated.
Several had conspired to aid his escape more than once, only to fail. One had died in the attempt. Another had died when they were caught attempting to ease Judd’s pain. It was their lives or the orders they were given. Gideon never held it against them when they reluctantly followed those orders.
Diane Broen, like those assistants, was innocent of the crimes he found punishable. There was no cruelty in her. Unlike many, though, there was a fierce, burning need to survive and to protect those she loved. Though there were very few she loved. Her sister, her niece. Of the four men she fought with, he saw loyalty from her; he didn’t see love.
With the Swede, though, he saw friendship, respect. Yet, he knew she would die to protect any of them. They were her responsibility, and therefore, under her protection.
Sighing briefly, he lowered the weapon and waited, carefully gauging the darkness and the shadows before moving. There had been other eyes watching her until he’d put a stop to it. The Coyote Breeds employed by the research scientists still attempting to carry on the Brandenmore legacy had tracked her as far as Tennessee before he’d had enough and cut their throats.
They had sent a two-man team to follow her. Their orders were, when and if she found the Bengal who had escaped nearly twelve years before or the two girls, they were to take them before the Bureau of Breed Affairs could move in to protect them.
Gideon had taken care of them instead. This woman he would allow to live, but those Coyotes had deserved only death.
He would allow no other adversary to track or to attempt to harm his prey or the warrior woman tracking them. That was his prerogative alone.
His teeth bared at the thought of it.
The memory of copper-rich blood flowing over his hands sharpened his senses and had a growl threatening to rumble in his throat.
Not yet, he told himself as he broke the weapon down to its individual parts and stored it in the case next to him. Then he donned the hat he had worn earlier. A beaten, stained cowboy hat that shadowed the mark on his face and went with the scuffed-up boots he’d stolen along with it. The scent on the clothing would keep any Breeds from accidentally figuring out that the individual they might pass had no scent of his own.
It was becoming a hassle, that lack of scent. It was an immediate alarm to any Breed who detected it. It required Gideon steal used, worn clothing rather than the nice, new clothing he would have preferred.
His prey would pay for that as well, he promised himself as he picked up the case and began moving quickly to the path that led down from the rise across from the hotel and back to the parking lot.
He was moving past the pickup he had bought days before when he almost stiffened, almost gave himself away. The vehicle pulling in and crossing his path was far too familiar for him to be comfortable.
Keeping his pace, he moved across the blacktop to the metal stairs that led to the third floor and the room he’d taken two doors down from Ms. Broen’s. He’d actually taken two rooms: the one he entered and the one that sat between him and his quarry.
The rooms, connecting as they were by two inner doors, had made it possible for him to slip into her room and position the three electronic listening devices he’d put together leaving D.C. He wasn’t seen entering her room from the cameras outside, nor by anyone who may have slipped by his notice to watch her.
Two of those devices, she had found immediately. He had to give her credit for it because he had actually attempted to keep that from happening this time. The third, he believed, would remain hidden, undetectable by either the Breed detectors or the ones John Thorsson, the man the woman called Thor, tinkered with to pick up the homemade or “silent” listening devices, which could record in deactivated mode for short periods of time.
Gideon was counting on that listening device to give him the current identity of the young woman he was searching for as well as the Breed protecting her. He would have to work past the Bengal Breed he had only known as Judd to gain his revenge.
They were the same age, he and Judd. They had, for a short time, shared the same cells, the same tests, the same hell.
Then, the termination order had come through on them all. They had escaped during transport to the termination facility. Somehow, Judd had managed to free himself before Gideon had and overpowered the guard in the back of the van. Gideon had gone after the driver, but the bastard had managed to flip the van, causing the incisions from an exploratory entrance into Gideon’s side to reopen and begin spilling blood.
He could have died then. He’d prayed for death often enough that he hadn’t cared if he died. Hell, he would have welcomed it with open arms.
She had cared though.
Gritting his teeth, Gideon fought back the memory. She had cared to see him living, to see him tortured further. To see his hell extended in ways none of them could have envisioned.
He found it strange that Judd hadn’t told him who had aided them by slipping the other Breed the keys to his chains. Gideon had always wondered how Judd had managed to gain his freedom, but his injuries and the result of Judd and the girl’s attempts to save him hadn’t allowed for a question-and-answer session.
Gideon’s fists clenched as he moved to the window, standing to the side to gaze through the narrow crack at the side of the curtain. There he watched as the doors swung open on the black SUV and Lawe Justice and his brother, Rule Breaker, stepped from the interior to gaze up at the room Ms. Broen had taken.
Two other vehicles pulled in on each side, both similar to the one Justice and his brother were in. There were three Enforcers in each of those vehicles, a total of six to complete the eight-man team commanded by Justice and his brother.
Ms. Broen’s Breed was taking no chances with her safety. Seeing them, though, recognizing the threat they represented forced a growl from his throat. He’d known they would arrive soon, but the complication and the animal that threatened to overtake him sent a punch of adrenaline and feral fury surging through him.
They dared to attempt to get in his way? To attempt to steal the only solace he had, the only hope he had of finding the girl and gaining his vengeance? He wouldn’t allow it.
He would kill them all before he would allow them to steal all he had worked for or the only chance he would ever have at finding peace.
Lawe moved up the steps while Rule held back, staying close to the SUV. Gideon stepped to the table where the small receiver and headphones were set up.
The commander, Lawe Justice, was known to be the right hand of the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs. If the director knew something, then Commander Justice knew it. He was curious as to what information could be gleaned in this meeting. Or if the woman inside the room would kick the Breed out as quickly as he had entered.
He’d known Justice would follow the little female mercenary. There was a scent on her that he had left. It wasn’t mating heat, and it wasn’t that brand of ownership male Breeds placed on their mated females. Still, though, it was a scent that warned other male Breeds away. One that lingered on her and assured a Breed that touching her would be territorial invasion.