“We know who the last one is,” he finally said. “The one that gets to die again.” He narrowed his eyes on Cabal. “Tell her.”
“No.” Cabal realized the instant refusal was more instinct than intellect.
“If you don’t, the killer’s going to,” Jonas told him. “What then?”
“He can’t prove a damned thing,” Cabal growled. “There’s no way to get proof and no way to get to him. Forget it, Jonas. It’s not happening.”
Jonas shook his head. “The best laid plans,” he sighed. “This isn’t going to end up well, Cabal. You’re f**king up.”
“Then it’s my f**kup.”
Douglas Watts was dead to the world, and as far as Cabal was concerned, he was going to stay dead.
“How did our rogue Breed know Watts was still alive?” Lawe asked, the question barely a breath of sound. “That information was contained to just a few Breeds.”
Jonas shook his head. “I suspect it was information Winslow was sent to find proof of. We know his last assignment took him overseas. We lost him for a while there. Weeks later the first killings began. It’s tied in.” He turned back to Cabal. “You know it’s tied in. And you know where it’s leading.”
He’d known all along where it was leading, but that didn’t mean he had to like it, and it damned sure didn’t mean he had to handle it however Jonas dictated.
Cassa was his mate, plain and simple. Period. Nothing was going to change that, and there was no reason that he could think of to muddy the waters of the mating with the knowledge that the man she had believed she was married to was still alive.
Watts had lied to her, cheated on her. He had betrayed her trust in the most elemental fashion from the beginning. The wedding had been no more than a farce, because Watts didn’t believe in contracts or promises. The preacher that had married them had been no more than an actor hired to act the part. The papers signed, the marriage license—the whole deal was no more than a collection of props.
Watts liked drama. He liked ceremony. He had enjoyed fooling everyone so effectively. It had been his own private little joke, and now the joke was on Watts. The woman he had thought he would hold through lies now belonged to one of the creatures he had so despised. One he had thought he could destroy.
“Drop it, Jonas,” Cabal warned him as he watched the eerie silver of the other man’s gaze shift thoughtfully.
Jonas was studying the situation, considering it, coming up with the most effective way to ensure that Cabal moved to the correct spot on the mental chessboard he was certain Jonas often used.
Jonas shook his head. “Hell of a way to start a life together,” he stated. “You can’t hide something like this forever. It always ends up biting you on the ass, my friend.”
“It’s my ass at risk.” Cabal shrugged.
Jonas’s lips had parted to say more when a warning hiss echoed across the communications link.
Cabal felt the premonition in his gut, knew exactly who the enforcers were stalking before the name ever came across the line. He was only surprised that it had taken her this long to get here. She must have been damned careful attempting to slip past the perimeter patrol.
“Reporter.” Mordecai spoke quietly through the link. “Bengal’s mate.”
Damn. He didn’t want her here; she had no business here. It would only entrench her deeper in the danger he could already feel swirling around her.
Cabal clenched his teeth furiously before sprinting away from Jonas and heading for the tree line. He could smell her now. There was no breeze rippling through the trees, which had given her the advantage in slipping through the forest toward the murder scene.
She was clearing the edge of the forest at a fast clip as he moved toward her. Dressed in black, her long hair pushed beneath a cap, her expression furious, she found him instantly with her stormy gaze, even as the enforcers securing the area converged on either side of her.
“This isn’t going to work,” she snapped immediately as she pushed past enforcers reluctant to force her back as long as her mate was in the vicinity.
And there was no missing the fact that she was his. The mating scent, as well as his scent, wrapped around her, infused her. It was more effective than a brand, that scent. It held the other males back, had them watching her as well as Cabal warily.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his fingers wrapping around her upper arm as he drew her to him, then turned her to head back down the bank in the direction they had parked the Raiders.
She jerked at the hold he had on her as the scent of her anger slapped his senses. She was pissed, and he could feel his senses reacting to that aggression and the mating heat that surged between them.
She was endangering herself, placing herself in the line of fire, and for the first time in his life Cabal felt true fear that he could lose his mate.
“What the hell do you think I’m doing here?” she retorted as she began digging her heels into the sand and resisting his hold. “Let’s see, exactly why am I here? What brought me here? Could it have been those nasty little pictures a killer is sending me? Could it be that you have a rogue killer on the loose who’s threatening to send those pictures to a list of reporters who couldn’t give a damn if the Breeds survive this particular story?”
Cabal came to a hard stop. “What did you say?”