"Yes."
"Was he the only one?"
"No."
"Then who else?"
"One of the men behind the man."
And thanks to the accident, I couldn't remember a goddamn thing. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Because he was there to give instructions, and because he likes a hot bit of tail."
"I'm gathering he prefers his tail lifeless."
My voice was dry, and Misha smiled again. "Feisty is not a preferred option—but it just might hook him where subservience hasn't."
I raised my eyebrows. "That a piece of advice?"
"A dangerous one, but yes."
"Also useless if you don't give me a name."
"All things come in time, Riley."
I was betting it was going to be a long time before I got the name, though. "So why was he there passing on instructions rather than the big man himself?"
"Because it is safer."
But safe from what? Certainly not us, because we had no idea who he was. Not yet, anyway. I studied him for a moment, then said, "If your boss is so dangerous, why are you here now?"
He raised an eyebrow. "If I answer honestly, I want another two hours with you."
Like I had a choice? Like I'd even know if he was being honest? I shrugged. "Whatever."
"The reason is twofold. First, I've long been at odds with my lab-mates and our so-called leader. Their vision has never been mine."
Meaning the leader of this little crew wasn't a lab-mate? Then who—or what—was he? "And their vision is?"
"As I said before, originally it was a quest for perfection. The desire to create the perfect humanoid, one possessing the most desirable characteristics from all branches of humanity."
"I'm guessing that changed when your master of creation died in the fire."
He nodded. "Now it's more a quest for domination and power."
It was on my lips to ask for his name, but he wouldn't answer a direct question. "Did a brother from a previous batch of clones take over?"
"No. We were the first batch to have survivors into adulthood."
"Then who?"
He raised an eyebrow, a smile touching his thin lips. "His son."
I frowned. "One of your later clone-mates?"
"No. His naturally born son."
That wasn't in any of the records I'd read. And obviously not in the records Jack had read—unless, of course, he did know about the son, and just hadn't told me. Given Jack played his cards seriously close to his chest and I was only a liaison, not an actual guardian, that was all too possible.
"There's no record of said son," I stated.
"No. He was born to one of the women he was using to take eggs from. Our lab father apparently thought it better not to register the birth."
Yet he'd registered his clones, even if he'd lied about what they actually were.
"That would have made getting credit and insurance cards a bitch," I stated dryly.
Amusement briefly warmed the cold depths of his eyes. "Not when you have the ability to assume other people's identities."
I blinked, then said slowly, "Our man is from the Helki pack?" And if Misha was speaking the truth, he was starting to give us some real information.
He nodded. "He's a mix of Helki and human."
"Meaning, the birth mother was Helki?"
He nodded again.
"And what does he actually do for a living?"
Misha merely smiled. I changed tack. "Is he in the military?"
"No."
"Is he a scientist, or in control of a research company like yourself or Talon?"
"No."
"He's a businessman?"
"He calls himself that, amongst other things."
"High profile?"
"Sort of."
"In the news a lot?"
"No."
That made me frown. How could you be a high-profile businessman without being in the news a lot? That didn't make any sense.
"How about his mom? Is she still alive?"
His quick smile was almost proud. "Very good. And yes."
"And he's still on speaking terms with his mom?"
He hesitated. "You could say they have a close working partnership, but it is one not many are aware of."
Very cryptic indeed. But obviously, we had to start with the mom, and the Helki pack. "Can you tell me her name?"
He considered the question for a moment. "What was the name of your mate immediately before myself and Talon?"
"I wouldn't have a friggin' clue."
He grinned. "Then get a clue, and use the feminine form."
"Shit."
"No, I don't believe that was it."
I gave him a deadpan look. "What about a surname?"
"I can't give the whole package on a plate. We both know that once I do, you're out of here." His fingers began to play up and down my leg. "And I intend to drag out my time with you as long as humanly possibly."
He'd certainly dragged out his time tonight. "You haven't yet actually answered my question."
"What question would that be?"
He reached out to touch me, but I caught his hand in mine, squeezing it a little harder than necessary to remind him I wasn't just a wolf. That I was, indeed, more than he could really handle if I chose to get nasty. "Why are you here?"
"Because everything is a game, and I tire of it. I want a normal life, for what remains of my life."
The edge of wistfulness in his voice had me believing him. But then, Misha was a very good actor. He'd certainly managed to fool me into believing he was a kind and gentle soul for the past year. And fact was, he wasn't. He was doing this for his own reasons—reasons he'd yet to fully explain.
He reached forward and caught my wrist, then tugged me off the beanbag and between his legs. "Enough for the night. I want the rest of my payment."
"Not until you give me somewhere to start, Misha."
He considered me for a moment. "There were two labs. The sister runs the second one."
"I thought you said he was an only child."
"No, I said the father had one natural child. I didn't say the mother only had the one."
"So the half-sister is a Helki?"
He nodded. "And runs the second lab."
"Which is Libraska?"
"Yes. And now that you have your starting point, I've said enough for one night. I want the rest of my payment."
He got it, and then I got the hell out of there. I blew out a breath as I left the club, and let my gaze travel up and down the street. Even though dawn had barely begun to streak the sky with wisps of rose, Lygon Street was alive with people and sound, the air rich with the aromas of wolf and humans, as well as the multiple, mouth-watering scents of meats and freshly baked breads. This end of the street had become a werewolf meeting zone, thanks to the close proximity of the two clubs, and many restaurants now opened their doors to cater for the all-night trade.
My stomach rumbled a reminder that it hadn't eaten in a while. I gazed longingly at the Italian restaurant across the road, but knew the Directorate personnel who were watching the Rocker had probably already reported my appearance out on the street. Annoying Jack was never a good idea, and if I didn't report in immediately, he'd be really annoyed. Food would have to wait until I made my report.
Ignoring the ongoing rumbling, I rummaged through my bag until I'd found the cell phone Jack had given me earlier. The phone on the other end rang all of three times before it was answered.
"Be there in five," a warm, rich voice said.
I blinked in surprise. "Kade? What the hell are you doing answering this phone?"
"Jack and Rhoan are still talking to Ross James. I was told to stand by for you."
"And Quinn?"
"Hasn't yet made an appearance. See you soon."
I grunted and hung up Crossing my arms, I leaned against the Perspex wall of a nearby public phone booth, and watched the burgeoning line of traffic crawl along Lygon Street, some heading for the city, some heading to the suburbs and the many industrial estates scattered about the sprawling edges of Melbourne. Though it was barely six now, the crawling snakes of traffic would be at a virtual standstill within half an hour. Which is why I tended to catch public transport to work even when I did own a car—at least I could sleep in an extra hour and a half by doing so.