“There are four more,” he finally answered. “If Jonas doesn’t kill me, then I’ll finish the job.”
“Jonas?” She stared back at him in surprise. “Jonas is the one you have to worry about killing you?”
“Jonas is the only one capable of killing me,” he informed her with mild amusement. “Your Bengal is good, Ms. Hawkins; he’s damned good. But he’s not a primal Bengal. He’s a recessed Bengal.”
“Really?” The question was mockingly phrased. “So there are two different kind of Bengals?” That was news to her.
He turned back to her then. “There are in every Breed species.” He lifted his hand, flexed his fingers, and Cassa felt her stomach almost heave as she watched claws extend and push out beneath the nails.
“I’m a primal Lion Breed.” He smiled. “The skin on each side of the human nails is no more than cartilage. Beneath the nail is a claw. It’s really rather interesting, though damned confusing to the scientists as well as the few primals that exist. There’s no pain, but sometimes, if the claws aren’t exercised, there is some blood during retraction. All in all, it’s really quite amazing. Primal Lions have been noted to have that ability. It’s rumored that primal Bengals display their stripes, especially across their face during a hunt. The small hairs at the nape of their neck become thicker, their sense of smell sharper, their rage is like icy fury. I saw one killed in the lab before my escape. It fought with true fury. Took out several Coyote soldiers as well as trained pit bulls. It was an incredible sight.”
It sounded terrifying to her. Cruel and horrible. And this man had called it an incredible sight.
“But they don’t have the retractable claws?” she asked. She had seen Cabal’s stripes, she had sensed the animal he tried to hide.
“They do.” He nodded. “All primal Feline Breeds have the retractable claws.”
She turned away from him. Cabal didn’t have retractable claws, she knew that. At least, she didn’t think he did. She had to admit she hadn’t actually asked him about them.
“Jonas is primal,” Patrick revealed. “Few realize this, and he definitely wouldn’t want the public to know. But he was created to breed. To be a stud for a new army.” He chuckled at that. “He was primal from birth.”
“You know Jonas?” She turned back to him, searching his expression.
Patrick shrugged. “I know of Jonas. I knew the rumors that circulated of his genetics, and I knew what the scientists were working on before I escaped myself. It wasn’t hard to figure out who and what he was once I began checking into it.”
“You investigated Jonas before starting this. As well as Cabal,” she guessed.
“I did.” He nodded. “As well as Rule Breaker and Lawe Justice.” He grinned at the names. “Even they aren’t quite what you would expect. Mordecai, that Coyote Jonas keeps on a leash, is more dangerous than he knows. Coyotes aren’t always forthcoming, you know, even to those they give their loyalty to.”
She shook her head. “And you’re going to defeat them all?”
“I don’t have to defeat them all,” he sighed. “I just have to get Watts. He’s probably in town by now. I wonder if he’ll ask about you. Do you think he’s forgotten about his lovely wife in the years Jonas has kept him imprisoned?”
“No doubt,” she said, mocking him. “Especially considering the fact we weren’t really married.”
“There was that.” He nodded. “At least you know where you stand with Cabal. No divorce. And the words ‘till death do us part’ take on a whole new meaning, wouldn’t you say? When your mate dies, a part of you dies with them.” There was an edge of bitterness there, one that didn’t belong with a man’s feelings toward his wife. Or his mate. There was almost a hatred, a cold, hard core of pure resentment.
“Does innocent blood appeal to you, Patrick?” she asked him. “Is that why you don’t mind using an innocent in your games?”
“There are no innocents,” he grunted as he turned back to the window, obviously assessing the breeze and the scents that flowed from the mountain. “And there’s no innocence. We just pretend there is.”
Cassa parted her lips to argue that statement, but as she began to speak the sat phone at Patrick’s belt beeped imperatively.
Pulling the phone free, he checked it, quirked his lips mockingly, then flipped it open. “Good evening, Douglas. How nice to hear from you.” He turned to Cassa, his brows lifting in surprise. “Actually, I do have her.” He paused. Listened. His expression darkened. “A trade? Very well. The information I want for your wife. Where would you like to meet?”
For one horrifying moment she felt fear cascade inside her and felt any hope she had of surviving this diminish. He was going to trade her for information on his son. He was going to trade her to a man that they both knew would kill her. There was no way Douglas would allow her to survive.
God, where was Cabal?
Douglas Watts stared at the sat phone in his hand, then at the commander of the Coyote team that had broken him from the prison Jonas Wyatt and Cabal St. Laurents had kept him in for more than eleven years.
He hated Breeds. It didn’t matter what kind they were or whether or not they were loyal to the Genetics Council. He just flat-out hated them.
H. R. Alonzo had phrased it perfectly. They were an abomination against mankind. Whatever had possessed scientists to think they could control these creatures, he didn’t know.
Now they were mixing in the general population, mating human, God-created women and infecting them with the DNA that had created the Breeds and making inhuman little monsters.
“Were you able to track the call?” he asked the commander, as the Breed stared at the display on the tracking device he used.