Diane would be as protected as any of the Prime family, he would ensure it.
Forcing himself to ease from her, the barb finally retracting back into its position beneath the hood of his cock, Lawe collapsed beside her, exhaustion weighing his own muscles down.
He hadn’t been able to close his eyes in the nights past since the shooter had attempted to take out Diane’s head with one of the outdated sniper rifles he’d used.
Outdated, yes, but the bullet-propelled weapon was also entirely more effective, if highly illegal. The laser-powered weapons afforded more control, but their response time was much slower. Waiting for such a large weapon to power up before firing in succession didn’t leave much room for error.
A compulsion entirely foreign to him had him pulling his mate close to him, tucking her against his chest and shielding her with his body.
He made certain to lie between her and the door and window. Just in case.
Just in case anyone was stupid enough to come through the door or attempt to slip into the room. Just in case he wasn’t fast enough. He shielded her, giving her a chance to live, a chance to escape, and perhaps . . .
His jaw clenched and the fear he’d fought back earlier returned.
Just in case she had conceived his child.
CHAPTER 10
“Diane, you know this isn’t going to work.”
Lawe watched as Diane cleaned her weapons. Efficiently, smoothly, and with an ease that bespoke far too many years of practice.
“How long have you been breaking down and cleaning your own weapons?” he asked when she didn’t comment on the previous statement.
Her expression softened then. The look was one filled with longing and memories she often cherished.
“Since I was barely seven and staying with Uncle Colt while my parents were out of the country on their various business trips,” she remembered with a gentle laugh. “They were spies you know. CIA agents. They met while they were both at Langley, just after they joined while in college. And they died together.”
“There’s a lot of missing information regarding Raymond and Esmerelda Broen’s lives,” he stated as he watched her double-check the cleanliness of the barrel of one of the weapons. “Their deaths and what they were chasing are two of those missing links. Did Colt tell you what happened?”
She looked up for a second, her expression stilling somberly.
“He told me.” She sighed heavily. “We had a deal. Once I managed to successfully command my first mission, then he would give me the information. Just after I did so, he told the others we were celebrating family-style. His idea of family-style was to take me to the mountain in Kandahar where my parents died. They were ambushed and killed while tracking the identity of a man rumored to head a network secretly transporting files, genetic material, Breed DNA formulas, cryogenic embryos and possibly many of the infants and young Breeds that were missing at the time.”
His brows arched. “I was unaware the CIA was working on the behalf of the Breeds. The last records we had, many of their agents were actually involved in the training and information control of the various labs.”
“My mother left a diary,” she said, “several of them, actually. She knew many of the agents who were working in just such capacities, but they were also slipping information out to those they knew were working to reveal the brutality the Breeds lived under. There were opposing interests in the CIA, according to her. Only a few substations were actually involved with the Genetics Council. Langley was actually trying to verify the rumors, track down the labs, and aid the Breeds’ escape. I gave Rachel the diary last year and I believe she turned it over to Jonas.”
Lawe nodded. “Yes, I read it. From what I read, your parents were far too reckless for a couple with two children depending upon them.”
It was a trait they tragically shared with her uncle, Colt Broen. As a mercenary, Colt had been in the perfect position to funnel information back to the States or to ensure that U.S. interests, as well as the CIA’s, were preserved.
Raymond and Esmeralda Broen had coordinated their trips with their missions, ensuring that if they weren’t home to protect their young children, then Raymond’s brother would be. Still, they had died while their children were young, and according to the reports Diane turned over after she came into the Bureau, their parents’ enemies had immediately gone after the uncle, as well as the children.
She didn’t comment on his criticism, nor could Lawe detect any emotion other than regret. There was no anger toward her parents or her uncle, and no resentment for the life she had led.
But then, he had no doubt she was able to, and definitely would, hide any emotion she didn’t want him to see.
The Breeds who had been a part of her group until the past months had taught her how to bury and conceal her emotions. As they had explained to Lawe, it had become a game between them and their “commander” to detect her moods, her emotions or other various states of being that she experienced.
In the end, Diane had become far more adept at it than either of them had imagined she would.
“Are they the reason you followed your uncle into war?” he asked her finally.
“Their enemies took care of that,” she stated, her voice hardening as she glanced up at him. “They attacked children, Lawe. They came after us like a plague and refused to give up for years. As though they would tell children any secrets they had kept from their superiors over the years.”
“If they manage to capture you again, and kill you without the information they’re looking for, do you think they would then go after Rachel and Amber?” he asked her.