Dash snorted. “Come on, Kiowa, that was a lousy job and you know it.”
“Someone has to do the shit work.” Kiowa shrugged, though he silently admitted that working as a bouncer wasn’t his all-time favorite sport. It was just too damned easy to start with. Scum wasn’t that hard to keep track of.
“We have another problem here.” Kane leaned forward at that point. “President Marion, at this moment, is willing to trust us with his daughter. I talked to him within seconds after your arrival. Official word will be that she is ill and recuperating in an undisclosed location while his son launches an investigation into the situation. The fact that he’s willing to trust us with his daughter indicates his security in Breed honor. He wants to talk to her later, but otherwise agrees it would be foolhardy to head out here and bring more trouble down on her.
“Official report on the helicopter attack was that Callan was attacked while on his way home from meetings in Washington, where he had been earlier. We can keep her safe here until the vote on Breed Law. Then, he’ll want to see her.”
That gave him a week, Kiowa thought. Not nearly enough time.
“That chopper wasn’t government issue either,” Taber said. “It was private, and modified for weapons. Communications we intercepted indicates they weren’t certain who was in the vehicles though. They were taking a shot and hoping. But if they got other Breeds that was fine too. Innocents didn’t matter.”
“A week isn’t long,” Dash said then. “Marion will be here the moment voting is over to see his daughter. We’ll have to have answers for him then.”
“And that concerns me how?” Kiowa lifted his brow fractionally. “She won’t be leaving with him, so he can come now for all I care.”
He wasn’t certain where that declaration came from, but once it passed his lips he guessed he committed to it.
“There’s a ban on relating the information on mating and the mating heat, Kiowa,” Callan said then, his voice hard. “If we’re to protect ourselves, we need to keep this information hidden from the general population as long as possible. We can’t tell Marion why his daughter can’t leave. You’ll have to convince her to stay.”
Kiowa stared back at the Pack Leader for long moments. They were idiots, he thought. What the hell made any of them think that Ms. Amanda Marion was going to agree to anything so outlandish?
“I can gag her.” Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea.
“Come on, Kiowa,” Dash snapped then. “Let’s be serious for a few minutes here.”
“Fine, then say something serious,” he shrugged loosely, careful to keep his body relaxed, to hide the internal fury pouring through him.
His mate thought he was an animal and the swelling inside her sickened her. She had been kidnapped, f**ked, and mated and Kiowa didn’t see a chance in hell of her accepting any of it easily.
“She’s a reasonable woman…” Dash began.
“She’s a child.” Kiowa crossed his arms over his chest as he stared back at the other man. “She’s twentyfour years old, first year out of Daddy’s care, and not exactly mature enough to handle the fact that within days she’s going to be carrying an animal’s ba—” He broke off as he caught sight of movement at the bedroom door.
There she stood, stock-still, the flannel gown Callan had brought her dwarfing her figure, the dark blue color emphasizing the pasty white complexion of her skin. Her scent filled the room then, drawing all eyes to her. Honey and spice, so sweet she made his mouth water as her arousal reach out to him. He stayed in place, forcing back the impulse to rush to her, to protect her. Dammit, he had enough trouble protecting himself at this point.
She swallowed tightly, her throat working convulsively as she obviously fought to keep her stomach from heaving.
“You talk to her,” Kiowa suggested then. “Maybe you can convince her it’s really not so bad. What do you think, Amanda? Can you handle carrying my pup?”
She swayed, her hand gripping the doorframe as she went impossibly whiter.
“Fuck, Kiowa,” Callan snarled as he jumped to her as her knees buckled while Kiowa forced back the screaming objection as the other man kept her from falling to the floor. He hadn’t believed them, he admitted a second later. When they said she could bear no other male’s touch, he hadn’t believed them.
Her pain-filled cry shattered his soul the moment Callan touched her, hard shudders racing over her body as she tightened to breaking point, going to her knees from the pain. Kiowa raced across the room, jerking her to him, his arms enfolding her as her hands gripped his waist, dry heaves spasming her body as she fought back the reactive sickness to the Feline’s touch.
“Shit,” he sighed wearily, one hand cupping her head and holding her close to his chest as she fought for her composure.
“Kiowa, you’re a bastard!” Simon snapped furiously.
“Get out of here,” Kiowa growled. “Just get the hell out until I can figure out what the hell to do.”
He was aware of their gazes locked on him—Callan and Simon’s filled with anger, Dash’s just quiet, regretful. The emotions filled the air, assaulting his sensitive sense of smell as well as his patience.
“Good luck, buddy,” Dash murmured on his way past him. “Good luck.”
His hand smoothed down Amanda’s hair as she slowly composed herself, the arm around her waist tightening as she pressed herself closer to him. It had to be unconscious, he thought, she wouldn’t want his warmth, wouldn’t need it. It was biological. An urge brought on by the hormone and the situation nothing more.
She thought he was an animal. And he guessed he was, because it would be a cold day in hell before he would let her go now, no matter what she wanted.