Cabal shook his head. Jonas didn’t want to admit Azrael was out there, simply because there would be no controlling that particular Breed.
“I guess giving you the sat phone number I have for our god of death would be a bad idea then,” he drawled. “I was hoping you could trace it, but I think I can handle that little chore now.”
“Don’t make me kill you painfully, Cabal,” Jonas warned him, and it wasn’t an idle threat.
There would be payment for literally going rogue on the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs. That wasn’t usually a wise move. However, in this case, it had been Cabal’s only possible move.
“Sorry, Director. Some things are more important than the bottom line.” He disconnected the link as he mulled over Jonas’s insistence that Azrael was indeed dead. The director should have learned by now that nothing was definite where Breeds were concerned.
There had been too many Breeds that were believed dead but had turned up alive in the past few years. It wouldn’t surprise Cabal in the least to learn that Azrael was indeed still alive.
Moving away from the sheriff’s house, he pulled one of the small remote sat detectors from his pack and plugged the sat phone into it. Pulling up the numbers once again, he chose the one he figured was most likely the rogue he was searching for. The number dialed the most often.
Tucking the unit back into the leather holder, he loped through the forest to the area where he’d stored his rifle and larger pack before entering the cabin. He should have the location he was searching for soon. Once he had that, he would have his mate’s kidnapper.
His muscles were tense, and rage still thundered through his blood as he fought to hold on to his much needed control. Now wasn’t the time to let the animal free, to allow the killer to hunt. The man had to keep a measure of control for the time being. Until his mate was safe. Then the animal could have his vengeance.
God help all of them if Cassa had been harmed. There would be no force on earth that could save any of them. Danna Lacey, Myron, Azrael or whoever the hell he was—it wouldn’t matter. If Cassa was harmed, then Cabal had no reason to live.
He almost paused at that thought. Living had always been the one hunger that had gotten him through the hellish existence of the labs. Nothing had mattered but survival. When most of his pride had died, when he had realized there was no way to save them, even then, survival had been paramount.
It was humbling to realize that if Cassa didn’t live, didn’t breathe in his world, then he didn’t want to be a part of it.
He paused, breathed in hard and deep and fought back the emotion clawing at his chest, at his throat. God help him, just to smell her scent, to hear her voice, to know she lived . . .
He couldn’t bear the not knowing. Wondering if she was suffering. If Azrael lived, then he was the one Breed that wouldn’t care if she suffered. If he had deemed her a threat, or a pawn in this game, then he wouldn’t care if she hurt, if she cried. If she was innocent. Nothing would matter but the plan he had in store for her.
If that were the case, then nothing would matter to Cabal but his blood. Azrael might be the god of death, but Cabal would ensure he died.
As he reached the store of supplies he had stashed for the visit to the sheriff’s home, he felt the muted vibration of the tracking unit in its pack against his thigh. He smiled, a cold, hard curl of his lips, and drew the device out.
And there it was. The location of the sat phone he was searching for. And, he prayed, the location of his mate.
◆ CHAPTER 25 ◆
“Rick, I can’t reach Danna or Myron on their sats.” Walt moved back into the kitchen a few hours later, a frown creasing his brow. “They were calling every few minutes, then it just stopped. I can’t reach them now.”
Patrick turned from the open window above the sink, his gaze going immediately to Cassa, his eyes turning hard and cold.
“Keith.” He turned to the Breed that waited silently at the other side of the room. “Contact Rand and Jason. Have them check on it.”
Keith nodded before pulling free the sat phone and making the call. His voice was low as he spoke, filled with pauses, but little expression on his face.
“I’ll let him know,” he finally said before turning to Patrick. “They’re under surveillance,” he reported. “Do you still want them to continue?”
Patrick looked at her again, as though it were her fault or she could do something about it. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Continue and report back to me.”
Keith relayed the order before disconnecting and storing the small phone in his jeans pocket.
“If he’s hurt them, you’ll hurt,” he stated coldly. “He knew that before he laid hands on them.”
“If your mate was taken, what would you do?” she asked him. “Who would you hurt? They knew the risk when they helped you in this.”
“And he knows the risks in striking against them.” He lifted his shoulders heavily. “So be it.”
So be it.
Cassa shook her head at the statement. This was the part of the Breed world that she didn’t always understand. Though she knew she should by now. In some ways it wasn’t that dissimilar to the human psychology, and yet in others, they were poles apart.
She was a pawn between Patrick Wallace and Cabal whether she wanted to be or not. She was insurance that Cabal wouldn’t strike out against his friends, as well as insurance that he would stay suitably occupied while Patrick killed again.
“Once Douglas is dead and you’ve found your son, what then?” she asked him. “What’s left, Patrick?”
He didn’t answer her immediately, but she saw the stiffening of his shoulders, knew he’d heard her and that the question had impacted.
“There are four more,” he finally answered. “If Jonas doesn’t kill me, then I’ll finish the job.”
“Jonas?” She stared back at him in surprise. “Jonas is the one you have to worry about killing you?”
“Jonas is the only one capable of killing me,” he informed her with mild amusement. “Your Bengal is good, Ms. Hawkins; he’s damned good. But he’s not a primal Bengal. He’s a recessed Bengal.”
“Really?” The question was mockingly phrased. “So there are two different kind of Bengals?” That was news to her.
He turned back to her then. “There are in every Breed species.” He lifted his hand, flexed his fingers, and Cassa felt her stomach almost heave as she watched claws extend and push out beneath the nails.
“I’m a primal Lion Breed.” He smiled. “The skin on each side of the human nails is no more than cartilage. Beneath the nail is a claw. It’s really rather interesting, though damned confusing to the scientists as well as the few primals that exist. There’s no pain, but sometimes, if the claws aren’t exercised, there is some blood during retraction. All in all, it’s really quite amazing. Primal Lions have been noted to have that ability. It’s rumored that primal Bengals display their stripes, especially across their face during a hunt. The small hairs at the nape of their neck become thicker, their sense of smell sharper, their rage is like icy fury. I saw one killed in the lab before my escape. It fought with true fury. Took out several Coyote soldiers as well as trained pit bulls. It was an incredible sight.”
It sounded terrifying to her. Cruel and horrible. And this man had called it an incredible sight.
“But they don’t have the retractable claws?” she asked. She had seen Cabal’s stripes, she had sensed the animal he tried to hide.
“They do.” He nodded. “All primal Feline Breeds have the retractable claws.”
She turned away from him. Cabal didn’t have retractable claws, she knew that. At least, she didn’t think he did. She had to admit she hadn’t actually asked him about them.