High cheekbones cut sharply against skin the rich, exotic shade of the finest caramel. "He's sitting in room 10 at the Happy Inn down the street."
"Unconscious?"
"No." Bowen actually looked shamefaced. "We told him we'd gone back and grabbed his little sister so he'd cooperate."
That explained why the Rats and trackers had struck out. Hiding an angry lynx was a far different cry from holding a cooperative one. "Nice."
For the first time, the mask of civility slipped. "Hurt feelings can be mended. Dead men won't rise."
Mercy didn't say anything. "We'll wait while my people check out the inn."
So they did. In silence. Riley's energy was a violent heat against her skin, but he held his position outside.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a commotion at the front and then someone yelled out, "We have Nash!" A pause. "And he wants blood!"
Mercy met Bowen's eyes, not dropping her guard. "You going to make trouble?"
"I gave you back your boy, didn't I?"
"True. So I could kill you right now." She wasn't as hostile as Riley, but she didn't like those who preyed on the weak. Nash and Willow had been under DarkRiver's care - they were hers as much as Tammy's cubs were. "A claw slash to a few important spots and you're out of our hair for good."
Time stood still.
Many miles from the chill standoff in that abandoned building, a slender male drove his car into the San Gabriel Mountains. His face was covered with sweat, his hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel. There were no embedded roads this far up, no way to put his small, city-use car on automatic. Even if it had been possible, he wouldn't have chosen it.
He needed to focus, to concentrate.
His eyes saw only gravel and rock, an endless twisting pathway.
Take the gun hidden in the trunk of your car. Drive to the enclave of artists on the edge of the Mojave. Kill as many of them as you can before the ammunition runs out. Remember, save one bullet for yourself.
The car shuddered as it fell into a pothole, rattling his brain, throwing those whispering thoughts into chaos. He managed to get it out but the tire was flat. Hitting the hover-drive, he continued on his way. He couldn't stop. If he stopped, the gun would find its way into his hands. And men, women, and children would die.
The compulsion crushed his mind, creating pinpricks of darkness behind his eyelids - veins were starting to shatter, to bleed inside his skull. He couldn't go any farther. Twisting the wheel, he brought the car to a halt on the side of the rough mountain road. Then he got out - his gaze going immediately to the trunk. No. He willed himself to turn. That cliff, it was close enough. Holding his head in his hands, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other.
All he had to do was get to the edge. He didn't trust himself with the gun. But a fall would shatter his brain just as well.
An hour after finding Nash, Mercy drove a still alive and uninjured Bowen out of the city, Indigo by her side. Bowen's hands were cuffed, his eyes blindfolded. Dorian had come out and used his toys to search for - and remove - two tracking devices.
Bowen wasn't worried. "I'd have been stupid if I hadn't had backup."
Assuming his team was following, Mercy took him out through a number of back roads, making any pursuit highly visible to the large SUV following her vehicle. By the time they circled around and pulled into a deserted section of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area on the other side of the bridge, Bowen was very much alone.
He held up his wrists when they removed the blindfold and let him get out. "I think you guys can take me on even if I'm free."
Mercy shifted in front of Riley as he exited the SUV and walked over. "Don't irritate us," she said to Bowen. The Alliance man might be a tough son of a bitch, but Riley was a very experienced wolf in a cold rage.
Jet-black eyes went from one to the other. "Something's going on that I clearly don't know about."
"The last time our people were abducted, one ended up dead and the other was tortured so badly most people thought she'd never recover," she said, letting him glimpse the leopard's need to hurt, to punish. "So your chances of convincing us of anything