The men moved out as Dane cursed behind him.
Jonas held Rachel as she pleaded. Her rejection of a team moving out was a ragged litany of desperation as she begged him to just give her the files.
"Chimera, the files are on my desk."
He'd been waiting for Brandenmore's men. The files had been in place, the information the bastard wanted lying in clear view as they'd laid the trap for him. A trap Brandenmore thought he could use a child to escape.
"Rachel, enough." Her sobs were destroying him as she tried to pull away, to gain the files and escape with them, even though she knew he would never allow it.
"No, Jonas." Her tear-drenched, bruised face destroyed him as her gentle voice, so often cool and yet tinged with amusement was now filled with rage. "You won't play games with my child's life."
So many months she had worked for him, with him. Still, she hadn't seen beyond what others called the games.
Releasing one of her arms, he let his fingers trail down her unbruised cheek. His throat was tight with the agony that this one person, whom he had been slowly allowing into that inner core of himself, still saw only his outer surface.
"Give me the files," she begged, though he saw the fury in her eyes, the knowledge that he could never do that.
"Jonas, the files." Chimera stopped at his side as Dane, Rule and Mordecai moved into place at the door, fully prepared, weapons stowed carefully under jackets and in the duffel bags they carried.
"Come on." He made the decision quickly, his hard gaze connecting with Chimera's in a silent order that he knew the other woman would understand.
She had sole responsibility for Rachel's life once they arrived at the small home where the baby was being held. Jonas would move in with Dane and the others to secure the baby, to ensure that those who threatened her never threatened another living soul.
"Jonas?" Rachel stumbled again, only to find herself lifted into his arms, his broad, muscled chest beneath her, his hard, savagely hewn expression more animal than man at the moment.
There was rage swirling in the living depths of those quicksilver eyes. Like a beast, separate from the man, raged inside him now.
"The files won't save the child." His voice was a hard, rasping growl. "You know it as well as I, Rachel. They'll kill her, and they'll kill you. I won't allow it."
She knew it. In her mother's heart, she had seen it in Phillip Brandenmore's eyes each time he struck her, his fist brutal, his gaze reflecting pleasure--and anticipation.
"He doesn't know you were waiting on him." She forced the words past her lips. "I didn't tell him, Jonas."
But she had known. Jonas hadn't told her either, but she had gotten to know the man she worked for over the months. She'd learned to anticipate not just his needs, but also his actions, and to prepare accordingly.
"I know you didn't tell him, Rachel." They moved along the hall to a side door, inaccessible except for the highest level of security.
"We need to know what we're driving into." Dane Vanderale's normally mocking, amused voice was now steel hard, icy with death. Rachel could almost believe he was a Breed as well, as those eerie emerald eyes of his narrowed on her. "What happened?"
The nightmare of the night thickened her voice as she told him.
She had gone home. Her babysitter wasn't there. Amber had been crying. She was only three months old. She was hungry, she was wet and she was frightened. Rachel had heard the baby's screams the second her feet hit the small back porch.
She hadn't thought; she had reacted. She had rushed to get to her baby, and she had met the merciless eyes of the men who had been awaiting her instead.
"Is the baby unharmed?" Jonas questioned when she finished relating that evening's horror, rushing from the elevator as it deposited them inside an underground garage she hadn't even known existed.
"She was when I left." Her voice quivered.
Jonas had never said Amber's name. It was always "the child," or "the baby."
"She's hungry," she whispered, staring up at him. "And cold. They took her blankets. I know she hasn't been changed."
She was dying inside. Amber was such a good baby. She never cried unless she was cold or hungry. She loved to watch the world; she loved to watch her mother. The few times Rachel had defied Jonas's orders and brought Amber to the office, the baby had always seemed mesmerized by his voice. She listened. She watched. And now she was alone, without warmth or comfort.
"I can't stand it, Jonas." Her stomach cramped with pain, both from the blow she had received earlier, as well as the knowledge that her child was hungry and cold. Confused. Frightened. "Please, Jonas, don't let them hurt her."
"No one is going to hurt her." He stepped to the SUV and deposited her in the backseat.