She collapsed into his arms.
“Shit.” Laying her on the bed, Tanner crossed quickly to the fallen assassin, running his hands over his body with quick, sure movements.
St. Marks carried nothing on him. No weapon, no identification. Grimacing, Tanner pulled the earpiece and sleeve mic from his pants pockets. Inserting the receiver, he lifted the mic to his lips.
“Cleanup, boys. Pronto.”
Cabal’s and Jackal’s curses filled his ear, the sound of movement assuring him they were on their way. He dropped the electronics into his pants pocket before jerking his jacket on, pocketing his weapon and lifting Scheme into one arm.
His arm curved around her back, holding her to him, her head on his chest. If they were seen, the assumption would be much different than the truth. Not that he intended to be seen.
Moving quickly from the suite, he headed for the stairs, pushing through the door as the elevator sounded on the other end of the hall. He knew it wouldn’t take Jackal and Cabal long.
Tanner didn’t wait around for them. Why it seemed imperative to slip past the other two men, he couldn’t be certain. But from the moment he blew Tallant’s man away, the animal inside him had taken over.
The shock of it might hit him later, but as he lifted Scheme in his arms and moved down the stairs, he didn’t let it bother him now. Savage, protective, the animal instincts were imperative. Her life was in danger and nothing mattered past getting her to safety. Complete safety.
SANDY HOOK, KENTUCKY
There was no one to notice the black SUV that drove quietly along the mountain roads that night. The flare of headlights bounced off houses that now sat on once-thriving farmland, pierced curtained windows, then curved and gleamed along immaculate lawns before moving on. Mobile homes, red-bricked stately residences and modest farmhouses shared the same narrow roads as Tanner Reynolds drove steadily, heading for the turnoff that would lead him home.
The GPS for the vehicle wasn’t just disengaged, it was dismantled and floating in a river somewhere. There were no eyes to see him, no ears to hear him as he headed for the last true sanctuary he knew.
He knew where he was going, but only he knew his impatience to be there. Only he was aware of the primal determination to find the hidden caves he and his family had discovered years before and to hide.
He checked his rearview mirror. There were no lights behind him or in the distance. The stretch of road was dark and rarely traveled this late at night.
The soldiers sent from the Council to find the small Breed pride Callan raised during the years they had lived in this county had never discovered the caves he was heading for. They weren’t even part of the network of caverns that lay below the house their pride leader had lived in before the world discovered them.
It had been a mistake, Tanner thought now. Revealing themselves to the world hadn’t been the assurance of safety that they had believed it would be. The remaining members of the Genetics Council would never let them live in peace. And those Council members would always fuel and aid the pure blood and supreme race societies that had risen in the wake of the Breeds’ revelation to the world.
Tallant and his supposedly spoiled, well-loved daughter were rumored to be head of those organizations.
Tanner inhaled roughly, drawing in the scent of her, letting it permeate his senses. And God, she smelled good. She didn’t smell like the gutter slime he’d once believed her to be; she smelled like f**king summer. Like roses on a desert wind. Like goddamned nirvana, and he was waxing poetic about what could still be a murderous bitch. Forget the fact that animal instincts he had relied on all his life roared in denial.
Who the hell was Scheme Tallant? She sure as hell wasn’t the spoiled little bitch he had believed her to be. Not after what he’d heard in that f**king hotel room.
Her father had sent an assassin after her.
And instead of just killing the assassin and turning her over to Sanctuary, he was running with her.
He had lost his mind. That was all there was to it. The animal was clashing with the man in a battle Tanner knew he was going to lose. Something, some inborn sense he couldn’t escape, wouldn’t let him release her.
Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, Tanner felt his lips curl back from his teeth in a primal snarl. He had to physically restrain a growl. His hold on the animalistic side of his nature was tenuous at best at this point. The more he immersed himself in her scent, the less he fought it.
And the thought of that terrified him. This weakness worried him. He couldn’t countenance it. For years, more years than he wanted to consider, he had made certain he had no weakness. No lovers that meant more than the good times they shared. No friends except those he considered family. No associates that could be used against him.
But this woman weakened him. She made the animal inside him stronger.
Growling at the stupidity of saving her bubble ass, he flipped off the lights on the SUV and made the turn on the graveled road that led into the cliffs below.
He needed to get her to shelter. She had awakened only once during the drive from D.C. to eastern Kentucky, enough to assure him that she wasn’t in any real danger from the tranquilizer he had pumped into her.
Getting her into the hidden caverns was imperative. He had everything he needed to protect her there. And there he would get the answers he needed. She would know who the spy was in Sanctuary; no doubt this was how General Tallant was aware of every move made at the Breed base. That meant Scheme must know the spy as well.
Damn, her daddy had named her right. If reports could be believed, and Tanner was beginning to doubt those reports, then Scheme was personally responsible for several of the attacks made against Sanctuary.
She plotted. She planned. She schemed. She was the Schemer. Except he was starting to suspect that rather than scheming for her father, she may well have been scheming against him.