Ice_Reaux - Laura Wright Page 0,50

on this.”

“Karen…” For several seconds, it looked like Reaux might fight her. His eyes held a deep misery, deep regret. But after a moment, he went into the bathroom and grabbed his shirt. When he came out, he went straight for her. “I asked a friend for help. That’s all. I wanted to give you this. I wanted to do this for you. I’m in love with you, Karen.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I found out this information late yesterday. I was going to tell you. But last night…I don’t know. I guess I just wanted us both to be happy.” He stared at her, waiting for a response. When she didn’t give one, he cursed again and headed for the door. “It’s easy to jump back into dark feelings and even darker assumptions. Believe me, I know.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks as he walked out the door. But she quickly wiped them away. Her son needed her. Whole and happy. And if she had to, hiding her pain once again. It was a state of being she knew all too well.

***

It had been two days.

Two long, suckass days since Reaux had seen her. And he’d never felt more miserable in his life.

“We need you to profile him, Reaux.”

Reaux glanced up. The leader of the Pantera, along with Parish and three Suits—Genevieve, Roch and Irek—were in his office. Morning meeting.

“By some miracle from the Goddess,” Raphael continued, “Xavier managed to locate and save the research from the computers that were blown up by the suicide bomber. He explained it all to me, but frankly the Geeks speak a different language.”

“Those plans are disturbing as fuck,” Parish ground out. The leader of the Hunters was pacing near the window. “Just like the madman who created them.

“If Christopher realizes we managed to salvage the data,” Irek put in, “he could unleash the virus on the Wildlands. We need to get to him.”

Reaux released a weighty breath. His head needed to be in this game. The lives of his kind were at stake. “You want to know everything about a man who would do this?” When they all nodded, he added, “I’ll create a profile, but you have to know it’ll be an educated guess.”

“We know,” Genevieve told him. “Work with Mackenzie and Lux on this.” She handed him a zip drive. “Here’s everything we have on him so far, but we’d ultimately like your opinions on where he might be living now, how he spends his money, who he spends his time with. Anything and everything.”

“To what end exactly?” Reaux asked her.

“To locate the fucker.” Parish leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re taking him out for good. And everyone who works for him.”

Understanding dawning quickly, a low growl rumbled from Reaux’s chest. “That’s why you’ve called the Pantera home?” He eyed Raphael. “You’re assembling an army.”

The leader of the Pantera didn’t deny it. “We’re done with pairs going in, putting on Band-Aids and putting out fires. We’re going to end this.”

“Good.” Before Reaux could respond further, there was a knock on the door. Then it opened slightly and Karen’s face appeared. When she realized who was inside, she grimaced. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”

Reaux was out of his seat in seconds. “No. We’re done.”

Raphael gave his cousin a look. “We need it by tonight.”

“You’ll have it,” he assured him as the group got up and filed out of his office.

When he and Karen were finally alone, he rounded on her. “Hey. You okay?”

She looked pensive, pale, as she sat down in one of the leather chairs. “I wonder if you could help me.”

His brow drifted up. “Of course. Anything.”

“I need a Healer.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “And you’re the best there is.”

CHAPTER 11

The look on Reaux’s face cut her deep. Confused, eager, strained. She knew she’d hurt him. From the moment he’d walked out of her house two days ago, she’d known. Just as she’d known that what he’d done for her, finding out the truth about Tate, had been done because he cared about her.

Maybe even loved her.

Heart squeezing with hope, she gazed up at him. He was standing, his back to his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked gorgeous and pensive.

“I’m so sorry,” she began. “You were right. I’m skittish, afraid of being in pain again. Afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of trusting. Afraid of grieving.” She inhaled sharply, her eyes begging him to see