He saw the woman who craved something she had no idea how to reach out for. A woman who imprisoned all her wild hunger behind a bottle of beer, a flirty smile and every party or good-time bar that could offer a spark of excitement instead of erotic heat.
And what she never displayed, was the deception and games that came with being a spy.
Not to mention the ability to sleep with whoever was needed to gain the information she sought.
No, the spark she needed had nothing to do with being a spy for anyone, let alone some group that no one could even confirm existed.
Rule had decided weeks before that he had her spark, and he intended to watch her burn once he set fire to her hunger. He’d just needed a reprieve from the investigations taking so much of his time first.
And the assurance that the desire hardening the flesh between his thighs wasn’t Mating Heat.
The wild, animalistic genetics that often felt like a caged lion inside him were completely unimpressed with her. That shadow creature inside him was too damned busy searching for the Coyotes it so loved to fight, because that was one of the rare times Rule allowed it to come out and play.
Restless, driven to rid the world of the creatures that still gave their loyalty to the Genetics Council, his animal senses rarely even took notice of Gypsy unless he had the time to become aroused.
And that made for a very happy Rule Breaker.
And potentially, a very fucked Gypsy.
CHAPTER 2
ONE WEEK LATER
Gypsy slipped into the underground entrance of the Navajo Covert Law Enforcement Offices and made her way tiredly through the steel-lined corridor leading to the elevator to the upper floors.
She checked her watch. Five minutes to spare.
She’d made it, but it hadn’t been easy. And it sure as hell hadn’t been a sure thing that she would make it back before nightfall to begin with.
Stepping into the elevator, she punched the button, leaning against the side of the metal cubicle as she smothered a yawn and waited for that little ping that indicated the ride was coming to an end. Which meant her week was coming to an end soon as well, and hopefully, at least one good night’s sleep.
Straightening from the wall as the doors slid open, Gypsy stilled, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the man she’d come to see.
Dressed in dun-colored tactical pants and a matching T-shirt, he could have been hot as hell, if he didn’t work at being an asshole so often. Light brown hair, brown eyes and a well-tanned complexion made him a real hit with all the other ladies he knew, though.
She must be weird, because she simply hadn’t ever been interested.
“Hell, I usually have to track you down when I return,” she drawled, standing straight and moving from the elevator as he glared at her.
What the hell had she done anyway?
“How long have you been back?” Cullen Maverick, commander of the agency, demanded, his tone dark, the snap in it irritating.
Damn, he must have already taken his prick pills for the day.
“How long does it take to get from the underground garage to here?” Mockery was usually the best and most effective weapon against his grumpiness. “Try chilling out a sec, Maverick.”
“Then you’ve not been back long enough to realize there’s a damned Breed APB out on your ass, right?”
She did freeze this time. She didn’t just pause.
Coming to a hard stop, she pivoted and just stared at Cullen, certain she must have misunderstood what he said.
“There’s a what?” she asked carefully, praying she wasn’t giving away that panicked where-can-I-hide feeling beginning to shoot through her.
“You heard me,” he snapped. “An unofficial Breed APB put out on you by Commander Rule Breaker. What the fuck is going on?”
“Unofficial?” She snorted at that one. Well, that happened just about every other day after she pissed one of them off. Or unless the director’s baby wanted more “moo-cake.” “When it becomes official, let me know.”
Turning on her heel, she began tracking to his office, knowing damned good and well he wasn’t going to take possession of what she had anywhere else.
Cullen wasn’t fond of the security cameras picking up every move he made or the information exchanged between him and his men. Or his contacts, such as Gypsy.
Besides, her cover of irritating Cullen just for the hell of it had already been established and followed for years. Unless she was actually seen handing something over, then she’d be screwed. And so would he be. For a minute anyway.
His office door was locked, as usual.
Paranoid prick, she thought, respecting the hell out of him for being as suspicious as he was.
The snick of the lock being deactivated followed his hand moving into his pants pocket. Wrapping her hand around the knob again, she stepped inside the office and waited for the door to close behind him.
Once the room was secure, she removed the small case holding the nano-nit she’d collected from the spa in Broken Butte, New Mexico. She’d put it in place more than a month ago, in the manager’s office where the majority of the information would go through.
Full audio and video.
The tiny bit of robo-electronics was incredible.
“Here you go.” Smothering a yawn, she handed the small plastic case over to him. “Mission accomplished and all that.”
He took the case—ultra thin, an inch square perhaps—and flipped it to his desk, still glaring at her.
Uh-oh.
Gypsy stared at the case, then back to Cullen as her lips thinned in irritation.
“I’m not in the mood for this shit,” she informed him warily. “I don’t know what your problem is . . .”
“If you’re sleeping with that Breed, then kindly inform me now,” he snapped, his arms going over his broad chest, his brown eyes snapping with ire. “Because he’s making my life highly uncomfortable, Gypsy. Highly.” The last word was a low, furious sound directed between his clenched teeth.
She almost flinched.
“What the hell has he done?” Her eyes went wide, disbelief and confusion smacking her brain as the depth of Cullen’s anger finally registered. “For God’s sake, Cullen, since when am I responsible for what some crazed Breed does?”
“Are you sleeping with him?” he bit out again. “So help me, Gypsy, if this is because of a damned lover’s spat—”
“I’m not sleeping with him!” she informed him, outraged. “God, I’ve barely spoken to him.”
Hell, she couldn’t sleep with anyone. It was killing her.
What Breaker did was catch her gaze across a room, he wasn’t picky which one, and she swore he was mentally fucking her at those times.
Taking her.
Pushing into her.
He made all her little feminine parts just perk right up and start prepping for the invasion.
Damned feminine parts.
“Then what the fuck is his problem?” Turning, he stalked to his chair, throwing himself into it as he continued to glare at her. “The man has been in every bar, nightclub and dive, legal and otherwise, and actually managed to crash too many fucking parties looking for your ass for the past week. Get him off the radar, Gypsy.”
Get him off the radar?
She stared at him, wide eyed. “What does he want? God, Cullen, we’ve barely spoken. He flirts a little. His buddy, that damned Vanderale heir they’ve let run amok, pays more attention to me than Breaker does.”
“I don’t fucking care what he wants,” he informed her furiously. “Get your ass out there tonight, Gypsy, and by God give it to him, or find a way to make him stop wanting it. Either way, get him off the fucking radar before someone decides to find out why one little party girl is so MIA that even the Breeds can’t find her.”