The senator gave him a mulish frown. “They added the chip when she was six years old and began exhibiting signs of disobedience. As she grew and their control over her strengthened, the five fathers, if you will, wanted to use her in different ways. They fought over her, and one by one they died. Accidentally, of course. My father took over her care. Still with me, Agent Tremain?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.
“Good. Bear with me just a little longer, and you’ll understand why I’m telling you all of this. You see, her records were destroyed, leaving no evidence that she’d ever existed. But in the destruction, a chance to re-create or fix her was destroyed, too. Now do you understand?”
“No. Spell it out for me.”
“You want to kill me. Don’t try to deny it, I can tell. Well, guess what? Kill me and you kill Le’Ace.”
“What do you mean?” Each word was measured, clipped.
“The chip in her brain.”
Jaxon nodded. “Yes, go on.” His teeth gnashed together. There’d been too much eagerness in his voice.
“Well, the control chip is inside me. I had it implanted a few years ago when I realized she was planning my downfall. The moment my life is extinguished, hers will be, too. Understand now?”
Oh, yes. He did. Fucking bastard. There was no doubt in Jaxon’s mind that the senator had done what he claimed. What better hiding place? What better mode of control? A red haze fell over his vision.
Slaying Mishka’s dragons would slay her. He popped his jaw, mind already churning with other possibilities.
One way or another, Estap would fall. Only the semantics had to change.
“She’s beautiful, so I understand why you desire her,” the senator continued, unconcerned by the murderous rage building inside of Jaxon. “But she’s a whore and a cold-blooded—”
The rest of the sentence ended on a pained gasp. Jaxon had jumped to his feet, flew over the desk, and was now choking the life from the bastard. His fingers were squeezing the man’s windpipe so tightly the muscles were spasming against his palms, the bones groaning.
Tanned skin leeched of color, and Estap’s arms flapped for an anchor. His eyes bugged.
“She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”
“You’ll…kill…her…”
Fuck! Panting with the force of his fury, Jaxon released the senator and stepped away. He held his hands up, as if in surrender. Control was his best friend right now.
Estap sank back into his chair, but he had to grip the edge of the desk to keep from sliding all the way to the ground. He hunched over, sucking in labored breath after labored breath. “You…bastard.” Hate glared up at him. “You’ll pay for that.”
Hand shaky, Estap picked up the phone and dialed.
Jaxon didn’t try to stop him. He knew what was coming.
A moment later Estap gritted out, “You are to kill Agent Jaxon Tremain. Do you hear me? Cut his fucking throat!” He slammed the phone back in its cradle and smiled darkly. “Like her now, Agent? Next time you see her will be your last.”
“Afraid to take me yourself?”
Scowling, color returning, Estap slapped a finger against a black button at the corner of his desk. The doors opened, and the guards stepped inside. “Get him out of here. Don’t touch him, don’t even bruise him. His precious Le’Ace will do that for us.”
CHAPTER 22
Three days. Jaxon had been gone for three days. And after Estap’s call, that couldn’t be good. Could it?
Where is he? Le’Ace wondered for, what, the thousandth time?
Four hundred and ninety-seventh time, actually.
Oh, shut the hell up!
She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d stayed away from Nolan. Because Jaxon had asked her to. His friends were breathing down her neck—literally—and Nolan called her every day. Every day she put him off. The otherworlder was getting nervous, probably thinking she meant to betray him. She did, but still.
If he fled…Her hands curled into fists.
He won’t. Eden and Lucius were his new shadows, following his every move. Not that he left the apartment much. Visible, that is. Besides, Jaxon would return soon. Wouldn’t he?
Jaxon. Damn it. Where was he?
Four hundred and ninety-eight.
Her nails bit into the calloused skin on her palm. She’d assumed the phone call Jaxon had received all those days ago had come from his friends, so she hadn’t eavesdropped. She hadn’t wanted to hear what the little shits had to say about her. But all of his friends were here, with her.
She’d allowed them to lock her up in their safe house, thinking she could win them over. Not going to happen, she’d soon realized. Mia accused her “good behavior” of being faked to lower their guards.
I just want Jaxon.
His friends didn’t know where he was, either, and they enjoyed taunting her with the fact that they could track him but weren’t going to. He’d asked for privacy, and they trusted him.
Like her, they were giving him whatever he wanted.
Le’Ace wasn’t sure how much more worry she could withstand, however.
Mia, who had recovered supernaturally fast from her injuries, loved to stomp into this dreary cell and tell her that Jaxon was too good for her. Kyrin always hovered behind her, glaring at Le’Ace as if he wanted to kill her. Dallas loved to visit, too. He would look at her, never speaking but studying her, as if trying to work something out in his mind.
The other two agents, Eden and Lucius, brought her food but never stayed to chat. Devyn, the Targon king, brought her sexy lingerie that she refused to wear and always stayed to chat. He liked to talk about sex: his favorite positions, what a fantastic lover he was and would be if she’d just say yes.
Egotistical beast that he was, he always managed to amuse her.
Le’Ace sighed and fell back on her cot. A white ceiling glared down at her. She could have broken out of this room at any time. Disabled the ID pad, busted the walls, called Estap for backup. But she’d hadn’t. She continued to wait. And wait.
Jaxon, where are you?
Four hundred and ninety-nine.
Enough!
Estap, that bastard! For whatever reason, he now wanted her to kill Jaxon. Three days ago, he’d called, demanding her to oversee the agent’s assassination. She’d told the agents, and they’d accused her of lying to send them on a wild chase, entrapping them somehow.
Their distrust raked her nerves raw.
Very soon she was going to tire of staying here. She was going to leave, and they wouldn’t be able to stop her. At least, she tried to soothe her frustration by telling herself that. Where was Jaxon? Estap hadn’t followed up to check and see if she’d obeyed, and he hadn’t hurt her with the chip for not reporting her success. Odd. Why?
She’d always wondered what she’d do if ever ordered to slay someone she loved. Now she knew. Take any punishment, however severe, for disobeying. She would not, could not hurt Jaxon in any way. He’s my man.
She needed to warn him of the impending danger. Estap was not an easy enemy to have.
What if Estap had already eliminated him?
Before a panic attack could spring to life, Le’Ace—no, I’m Mishka—Mishka forced herself to calm. Jaxon was strong, courageous, and well able to take care of himself. He was smarter than Estap, a fighter to his very soul.
Jaxon would soon return. And then, yes then, she would make sure the senator met with an unfortunate “accident.” Maybe he’d slip into a wood chipper. Maybe he’d catch Nolan’s disease. Who knew? Death was so unpredictable.
“What are you smiling about?”
At the sound of Mia’s voice, Le’Ace stiffened. She rolled to her side, tucked her hands under her cheek, and stared over at her nemesis. Mia leaned against the door frame, casual in black leather and an invisible cloak of confidence. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.
As always, Kyrin was in the hall, waiting behind her like a guardian angel. He was tall with white hair and beautiful violet eyes. He reminded her of Jaxon in a lot of ways. Quiet strength, banked power. Wholly seductive.
“Let me save you the trouble of telling me why you’re here,” Le’Ace said. “I’m not good enough for Jaxon. He deserves someone better. He’s changed since meeting me, and not for the better. Does that cover everything?”
The pretty agent’s nostrils flared. “I don’t know why I expected you to care that you’ve made him into something harder, more cynical.”
“You mean someone with a smart mouth who doesn’t let you walk all over him? Did you ever think that maybe Jaxon had never showed you the real him? That I helped free him?” The moment she spoke, Le—Mishka, I’m Mishka now, remember?—realized the truth of her words. She had helped him. Less and less he donned that falsely polite mask. Less and less he sought to hide the complex man he truly was. “Well?”
Mia’s lips pressed together in a mulish line.
“Can we at least try to get along?” she suggested. “For Jaxon’s sake?”
“No,” was the instant reply.
“Like it or not, I’m part of his life right now. And I’m not the woman you once knew.”
Mia laughed without humor. “You’ll never change. I did a little digging since locking you up. Found where you were staying while working with Nolan. Found your notebook.”
Every bit of warmth drained from her cheeks.
“That’s right. I saw your list. Thirty-eight ways to kill Jaxon. Slitting his throat while he sleeps was my favorite. Poisoning the food in his house while he’s out on assignment was my second choice, though.”
She closed her eyes. Shit! She’d made that list to protect him. If she knew how an enemy, an alien—Estap—might try to hurt him, she could help him prepare against it. She could take measures to stop it from happening.
She opened her mouth, closed it. Really, there was no way to defend herself. Not with this. She’d tell Jaxon and he’d…what? Her stomach churned. Would he believe her? Don’t think about it now. Keep your defenses up or Mia will flay you alive.
“I was always polite to you when we were both teaching at the training camp because we had to set an example for the students,” Mia said. “There aren’t any impressionable young minds here right now, so you’ll get nothing from me but contempt.”
Polite? Whatever. Mia had antagonized her at every opportunity. A cutting remark here, flipping her off there. “Some friend you are.”
Fury glazed over Mia’s blue eyes. “I’ve been his friend a lot longer than you have. I’ve bled for him, killed for him.”
“So have I!”
“Mmm, catfight,” a male voice said.
Mishka cursed under her breath. Great. Dallas.
The agent stood beside Mia, towering over her. Mishka noticed the way he kept himself an inch or so in front so that he could shield the woman if necessary and protect her.
How had the bloodthirsty Mia Snow earned the respect of two such powerful men?
“Come to join the fun?” Mishka asked him dryly.
His amused expression faded, revealing the lines of tension bracketing his eyes and fanning to his temples. He looked tired and stressed. “I’ve been thinking about you. About what to do with you.”
That grim tone said more than his words. “And?” She eased up, dropped her bare feet over the edge of the cot and onto the cold tile floor. If he pulled a gun, she’d have to hurt him. And she didn’t want to hurt him. Jaxon would be upset.
Kyrin closed the distance between him and Mia and wrapped an arm around her waist. Mia leaned into him, as if she knew she belonged there and knew she would not be met with resistance. Mishka had to look away. Her chest hurt. One day Jaxon might hold her like that. So easily, so casually.
“And?” she repeated.
“You have to die,” Dallas said. He didn’t pull a weapon, just stood there, watching her reaction.
She revealed nothing because she felt nothing. He wasn’t the first man to want her dead. “Why?”
“Your list, for starters.”
She swallowed. Again, no way to defend herself. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“Second, I see things. Visions, and—”
“Dallas!” Mia snapped at him. “Don’t. She can’t be trusted. She—”
He placed a gentle hand on the agent’s shoulder, and Mia quieted. They looked at each other, silently communicating. They loved each other, that much was obvious. Not as lovers, but as longtime friends. Buddies. Brother and sister. They were comfortable with each other, affectionate and protective.
A pang of envy shot through Mishka.
“I sometimes see the future,” Dallas continued, turning back to her, “and what I’ve seen concerning you is not good. Especially since the other visions I’ve had have not been wrong.”
Dread squeezed at her stomach all the more intently, but she said, “I place no value on visions.”
One of his dark brows arched. “Really? So it doesn’t bother you that I think Jaxon is going to die trying to save you?”
The ominous words echoed in her mind. Jaxon is going to die trying to save you. No. No! She did not place any value on visions, but the mere thought of Jaxon being hurt nearly felled her.
In all her imaginings of the future, Jaxon lived a long and happy life. Without her, yes. Without another woman, well, yes. Mishka did not like to entertain the idea of him with someone else, loving the faceless woman, waking up with her every morning. But never had she considered him dead. Never.