“It’s those damned Breeds.” Frustration filled Marv’s voice now. “Do you know those bastards are causing hell’s own mess from one end of the planet to another? There was a report last week that Wyatt threw some scientist into a volcano. I needed you in Hawaii to check that out.”
“I’d love the vacation, Boss, but no go. The volcano thing is old news and lies at that.” Or so she hoped, though she doubted it. Jonas Wyatt would definitely go for the volcano if it was feasible. “This is bigger, if it pans out. I’ll let you know more as soon as I can.”
Marv cursed again. “Fuck. I hate it when you do this. The viewers don’t like Shelley nearly as well.”
“Well, they’ll have to suck it up or watch the competition. Tell Shelley to flash cle**age and maybe a little thigh while she’s reporting. Ratings will skyrocket.”
Marv was likely foaming at the mouth, if the virulent string of curses she heard was any indication.
“Look, I have to go,” she stated imperatively as the elevator doors opened in the lobby. “Shelley will do great. The stories are waiting on her, or you can rerun some of the older stories. Try the one about that Breed Mathias and the kid he and his wife adopted. That was an interesting piece.”
The former Breed assassin and his wife had rescued an abandoned baby several months before and were now trying to adopt it.
“God, you’re pissing me off,” Marv snapped. “Fine, I’ll go through the old footage and see what we can set Shelley up with. But this better be damned good, Cass. I better see blood at the very least.”
Her stomach was still roiling at the thought of the blood she had seen. She didn’t think Marv really wanted to be a part of the massacre of the Breeds that would occur if that were shown.
“I’ll see what kind of gore I can get you, Marv,” she promised as she entered the garage and headed for her car. “I’ll call soon. I promise.”
“Better be damned soon or—” Cassa cut off the or else that usually followed. Marv was damned good with the threats and even better at yelling for hours on end if anyone was willing to listen to him.
She tossed her bags into the trunk of her car before sliding into the driver’s seat and hitting the ignition. A ten-hour drive was going to suck. Too bad the news station didn’t have their own plane; she could have used the lift.
Tossing the phone to the seat beside her, she roared from the parking garage and headed out of the city. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she fought to keep from speeding. She needed to be there now. She needed to find out what the hell was going on and why a Breed was now attempting to turn world opinion against them.
It didn’t make sense. The Breeds could be merciless, she knew it, she had seen it firsthand. But never without reason. And though H. R. Alonzo no doubt deserved a bloody death, if even half of the charges the Breeds laid against him were true, still, there were courts and trials for a reason.
Breed Law protected the Breeds against men like Alonzo. It was the reason the law had been written and was now the framework for justice at any time that Breeds were involved.
The Bureau of Breed Affairs had been established to ensure that Breeds, as well as non-Breeds, followed those mandates, and that the creations man had made were preserved in both safety and freedom.
For the most part, the world supported them, but if those pictures were flashed across the news screen without a damned good story in Breed favor to back them, then world sentiment would turn against them fast.
She glanced at the cell phone as she pulled to a stop at a traffic light and debated calling Sanctuary. She could talk to Merinus and Callan; the pride leaders of the Felines would send a team to investigate, and they would assuredly give her the story. If Jonas Wyatt and Cabal didn’t poke their busy little noses into it, just as she knew they would.
The deaths documented in the files she had received were the very ones Jonas and Cabal had been discussing the night before at Haven. Except, H. R. Alonzo hadn’t been on the list.
Alonzo had been a thorn in the Breeds’ sides since they first revealed themselves. According to Cassa’s research, he was also most likely a part of the shadowy organization known as the Genetics Council, though she doubted he was part of the inner twelve.
It was a story she was working on. Alonzo and several others who spoke out often against the Breeds were rumored to have ties to what was left of the Council. Most of the organization had been disbanded once the members themselves were revealed and convicted of having conspired to create, torture and murder the creations known as the Breeds.
Now Alonzo was dead. Who else would die?
Cassa breathed out roughly as she left the city, hit the interstate and sat back for the drive ahead. If she got there fast enough and managed to locate the area where Alonzo’s body was now lying, then she might have a chance to find a few of the answers she needed.
Eleven years as a television investigative reporter had given her the experience; a knowledge of the Breeds was an additional bonus. Now she could only hope that she was the only one who had received that file. If she was lucky—and she was praying she would get lucky—then she might have something to bargain with when she was forced to call Wyatt.
Her own pictures. She would need those. The file was good, but it wasn’t good enough. Pictures could be faked. Technology was amazing and still growing at a rapid pace. There was no way to prove those photos were, in fact, pictures of men who had died at the hands of a Breed.
Only Banks’s body hadn’t yet been found. Alonzo’s was a new addition, but she had no doubt that Jonas would ensure that his murder was covered up. Jonas was damned good like that. So good, a shiver of fear snaked up her back.
But Jonas wasn’t the only one with a knack for doing whatever was needed to protect his people. Cabal was also slowly gaining that reputation. The playboy of the Breed society. The whore-mongering tomcat. He was also whispered to be one of the Bureau’s best silent assassins.
He wasn’t an enforcer. He wasn’t even listed with the Breed registry. For a reason, she guessed. Breeds listed with the registry had to turn in blood and DNA samples. They couldn’t turn in fingerprints because those had been burned away in the labs.
She knew what those labs were, the hell the Breeds had endured. If one was now taking vengeance, then God help her, she couldn’t blame him. But she knew that the rest of the world would do more than blame the Breed, they would turn on all of them.
There was only one way to ensure that didn’t happen. She needed to know why. A face had to be put to the killer, a history. That was her job.