She sniffed. “The Sinclairs don't scare me. Besides, Candy fancied the look of him."
"If the Sinclairs don't scare you, you're more of a fool than I thought."
"We'll be long gone by the time his pack finds this place.” She glanced at her watch. “Your girlfriend has ten minutes to get here. Hope she's not late."
His gut tightened. “What do you mean?"
Her grin was cold, victorious. Counting her chickens before they were hatched, Cade thought, and worked harder on the ropes.
"Meaning I left her a little message at the station and told her to be here by seven. If she's not here soon, I'll let Candy loose on René."
"Please let her be late,” Candy said softly, and whirled to a stop in front of Cade. She ran her finger down his chest, her touch as hot as the heat in her eyes. “I feel the need to rend and tear."
Her touche drifted down until she touched his cock. She teased him, caressed him, and though he knew his response was automatic and not desire, he still hated it.
And he'd be damned if he'd put up with it. He lunged forward as far as the ropes would allow, and smashed his forehead against hers. There was a sharp, cracking sound, followed quickly by Candy's yelp. She staggered backwards and touched a hand to her forehead, feeling for damage. And there was plenty. He'd hit hard enough to split her skin—and his, if the warm moisture dribbling down his nose was anything to go by.
Her fingers came away bloody, and her gaze flew to his. “For this,” she said, holding out her hand for him to see the blood, “you will pay."
"And I wasn't going to pay before that?” He snorted softly. “I'm not a fool, Candy."
She studied him for a moment, the light in her eyes becoming more and more feral. Tension stirred through his muscles, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do to stop her should she decide to attack.
Thankfully, she didn't. She merely smiled and slowly licked the blood from her fingers. “I shall enjoy this,” she said, dropping her gaze to his cock. “And then I shall eat you. Piece by tiny piece."
"Candy, enough,” Jina said softly.
Candy sniffed, but she flounced back to the fire. She didn't resume her dancing, though. She simply crossed her arms and regarded him much the same way a hunter might study its next meal.
Jina glanced at her watch again. “Eight minutes."
"Why wait?” Candy said, her gaze drifting to René's prone form. She licked her lips, her expression one of feral anticipation. “We intend to kill him anyway, and I want to play."
Jina looked at Cade. “What do you think, Agent Jones? Shall we let her loose to play?"
"It doesn't matter a damn what I think you should do,” he said, working furiously on the ropes. Jina had to see what he was doing, but she gave no sign of it. Either she didn't care, or she was sure that even if he did escape the ropes, he'd never escape the two of them.
Not that he wanted to escape them. Take them down, yeah, but not escape.
"Come now, play the game. To attack, or not to attack, that is the question."
"And it's not one worth answering, since you'll damn well do what you want anyway."
Her smile was cold. “Trust a man to take the fun out of things.” She glanced at Candy and then waved a hand towards René. “My dear, he's all yours."
Candy smiled, and the changing haze shimmered over her form. Then, in wolf form, she launched herself toward the helpless René.
And there wasn't one goddamn thing Cade could do to stop it.
* * * *
Savannah glanced at her watch as she climbed out of her truck. There were still ten minutes to go, and yet she knew she couldn't afford to place any trust in the fact that Anni would keep her word and not harm either man until seven. She wasn't dealing with a rational mind, despite the “harmless old woman” front Anni had put on over the last six months.
Tension slipped through her, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Nothing had happened to Cade yet. They might not have shared a great deal in the way of telepathic thoughts or emotions, but she'd feel it if he were hurt. She loved him, and she'd know.
She glanced up as thunder rumbled overhead and grabbed her thick jacket off the back seat. Not only was it warm, but it covered the bulletproof jacket Anton had insisted she wear. Once she was zipped up, she grabbed her knife belt and clipped it on. Then she tucked her gun in the waistband at the back of her pants, out of sight. Anton had given her one silver bullet to use, and though she'd pointed out that there were actually two women, he'd simply shrugged and suggested she take out the most dangerous of them. It was Trista who'd told her IIS teams were only given two silver bullets per mission, because they were expensive to produce and only to be used as a last resort—and by IIS personnel only. Anton was risking his career just by giving her the bullet.
None of which made her feel any easier. One silver bullet was one too few when she was facing those women alone.