CHAPTER 6 #2
“My baby,” she was saying, kissing Willow’s cheek, “my baby.” Another kiss.
Willow clung to her like a little monkey.
Her father was sitting beside them, touching his child and his mate anywhere he could reach.
The love, the connection between the three was a physical thing.
Her chest grew tight with the force of it.
Then she felt Riley enter behind her, and the heat of him was a wash of wildfire on her back. “Iain,” she said, feeling that fire snake into her very veins, “we need to talk to you.” The sooner, the better. “And Enid, too.”
Sascha came into the room from the kitchen right then.
“Willow, why don’t you come play with Rome and Jules for a while.
They’re starting to drive their mother crazy.
” A smile, but the eyes—the white stars on black velvet of a cardinal, the most powerful grade of Psy—were directed at the lynx girl’s parents.
Mercy felt a sense of calm, of warmth, soften the stark edge of fear and desperation in Iain’s and Enid’s scent.
It was no surprise—Sascha was an empath, a woman born with the ability to soothe emotional wounds.
Now she’d taken a piece of the Bakers’ pain, absorbing it into herself.
Mercy wondered if doing that hurt Sascha, but knew her alpha’s mate would never back off, no matter if it did.
Iain and Enid finally let Willow go with Sascha five minutes later. “She’ll be fine,” Mercy reassured them, taking a seat in front of the couple while Lucas and Nathan remained standing against the walls.
Riley, however, came to sit beside her, swinging around a chair to put his arms on the back. “She’s a strong kid,” he told them in his direct, no-nonsense way. “Escaped and hid out with a group of wild lynx.”
Iain smiled, his pride open. “We thought they’d taken her, too.”
“Did you see who came into your home?” Mercy asked, trying to ignore the fact that Riley’s thigh was pressing against hers, the rough masculine heat burning through her jeans to incite her leopard to voracious sexual want.
It was on purpose. Definitely on purpose.
The wolf was getting back at her for implying he’d been nothing but a convenience. “Even a hint would help.”
The Bakers shook their heads. “We were asleep,” Enid said, voice husky from crying. “But usually, we’d wake up the instant an intruder even entered the yard. But this time . . . it was like we were drugged right from the start.”
“Enid’s right.” Iain frowned. “I remember fighting to wake up, sure something was wrong, but I couldn’t.
I saw a black shadow bend over me, felt a push in my .
. .” He shoved up his sleeve as if searching for something.
“I felt it right here.” He pressed a spot on his forearm.
“Like a pressure injector. Next thing I know, I’m waking up and the house smells wrong, and I know the children are gone. ”
“Could’ve been some kind of gas,” Nate suggested. “We’ll have to check to see how they got it into the house.”
Enid sat up, eyes distraught. “We had some work done under the house a few days ago—I was being paranoid, wanting to make sure everything was solid because Willow’s always crawling under there. But they could’ve set something up then. If I hadn’t—”
“Shh.” Iain bussed the top of her head. “The only ones at fault are the bastards who did this.”
Mercy wished she could give the Bakers more time to come to terms with everything that had happened, but finding Nash had to be the priority. “If it was a gas, how did Willow escape?”
Enid laughed, a choked-up sound. “She’s been misbehaving lately. Sneaking out to go play in the woods at night. Drives me crazy. Probably saved her life.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that. Nash’s fine. He has to be fine.”
“I’m sure he is.” Iain’s tone was so certain, everyone looked at him. “It’s his work,” he told them. “Somebody wanted him for his skills—my son’s mind, it’s brilliant.”
Mercy’s cat came to attention, seeing a parallel that might simply be an illusion. But if it wasn’t . . . “I thought he was a student.”
“Not an ordinary one—he started taking college classes at thirteen.” Iain’s pride was apparent even through his worry. “He’s been working on his own projects for years now.”
“All to do with nanotech,” Enid said, and a bell rang loud and clear in Mercy’s head.
Beside her, Riley’s thigh turned rock hard, and she knew their thoughts were running on identical tracks—three months back, Dorian’s mate had been the subject of a kidnapping attempt by the Human Alliance.
Though none of Ashaya’s attackers had survived to confirm it, it had been clear they’d wanted her for her knowledge of a lethal virus.
Depending on the nature of Nash’s work, this seemed very much like the kind of operation the Alliance would run.
“Do you have details of your son’s research?” Mercy asked, knowing the payoff had to be major for the kidnappers to chance reprisal by DarkRiver—because while in their territory, the Bakers were Pack. And DarkRiver never forgot its own.
Both Enid and Iain shook their heads. “It’s all hush-hush,” Iain said. “The university got a grant from some big company and that company has first rights to the results.”
“But his professor would know,” Enid added. “I’m sure he’d help you.”
“Merce,” Lucas said, “why don’t you and Riley head out to the house. I’ll organize the data collection on Nash. Enid and Iain can see if Willow remembers anything.”
The shift of muscle against her own, a slight rasp of fabric against fabric that made every hair on her body stand up in attention. But this time, the wolf hadn’t done it on purpose, his attention elsewhere.
“We have to guard against tunnel vision,” he warned, his fury apparent in the vicious control with which he spoke.
Riley, Mercy knew, despised the monsters who preyed on those weaker and less able to defend themselves.
It was one of the few things they agreed on.
“Could be a professional relationship gone bad, a competitor, anything. We need to explore all angles until we have more intel.”
The others made sounds of agreement, and Mercy and Riley drove off after grabbing a quick meal. Despite Riley’s attempt at wresting control—even though it was her car—Mercy was in the driver’s seat. It was obvious Riley hated that fact with a feral kind of passion.
“If you don’t stop clenching your fists,” she said sweetly, “your veins might explode.”
“I’ll take that under advisement, Mélisande.”
She barely stopped herself from slamming on the brakes. “Who told you that?” She needed to know who to dismember.
He snorted. “I ran the background check on you.”
“What?”
“Did you think SnowDancer was sitting on its ass while you cats set up your territory here?”
Given that she’d done some spying of her own, she couldn’t exactly argue with that. But—“That name is off-limits. On pain of death.”
“I’m quaking in my boots, pussycat.”
She screamed. “Why do you live to aggravate me? Why?”
A smile that told her nothing. “One thing I’ve always wondered—why did you enter that bikini contest when you were a teenager?”
Her face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “How far back did you trace me?”
“Far enough.” A pause. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“And you didn’t turn into a puff of smoke and disappear. The world is full of disappointments.”
A low growl filled the vehicle.