He knew it was more.
He knew seducing was just the beginning . . .
He shook the thought away. It wasn’t a mating, it couldn’t be anything more than seduction where a Breed was concerned if it wasn’t a mating.
Dog nodded slowly before straightening. “If you decide you need help, just let me know,” he said, his disbelief clear. “Just don’t wait until it’s too late to be helped. It would suck watching your ass burn, Breaker.”
He walked away then, heading back to the rise of stones and the Dragoon no doubt awaiting him there as Rule narrowed his eyes on him. What the hell did Dog think he knew?
There wasn’t a chance in hell the Coyote could know the little traps Rule was laying in the area where several individuals were concerned. Just as he couldn’t possibly know Rule was well aware of his and Dane’s friend in the area.
Rule knew. It benefited him at the moment to keep his mouth shut, but he knew.
He just prayed Jonas never found out. Because if he did, then they were all screwed.
CHAPTER 8
Despite her attempt to run, Gypsy found herself unable to skip the meeting with Jonas and her parents that evening. She felt raw inside, ready to break apart at the slightest provocation, but she couldn’t let her family down again, no matter how hard it was going to be to face Rule after she’d left him in the desert.
Gypsy had met Jonas Wyatt on several occasions in the past two months that he and his teams of Breeds had been in Window Rock searching for a rogue Bengal. The reservation and the Navajo capital itself seemed to be a haven for lost Breeds, hunting Breeds—and rogue Breeds.
It seemed that the rumors were true as well, that the reservation was now about to become home to an investigative branch of the Bureau of Breed Affairs.
Rather fitting, as a large number of them had been created from the stolen sperm and kidnapped girls of the Navajo that the Council had taken.
Dressed in a neat black pencil skirt and sleeveless white silk blouse, she moved from the Jeep before retrieving the black leather briefcase she’d brought with her. Sliding the strap over her shoulder, she pushed the door closed and locked the vehicle, then turned back to her parents.
“Where’s Jason?” she asked. She was depending on his ability to distract her parents and ensure that this meeting went as planned.
“He had a meeting in Santa Fe that he couldn’t cancel,” her father informed her rather stiltedly. “You didn’t wait around earlier to find out that he couldn’t be here for this one.”
Of course that was the reason why, she thought silently as she inhaled slowly, her gaze slipping to her mother. Because she hadn’t waited around for the full brunt of the guilt trip, it was her fault she didn’t know everything.
Greta glanced at the bag Gypsy carried for a second before turning her gaze to her disapprovingly. “This is just a friendly visit, Gypsy. Not an official meeting.”
“I worked up a few ideas while waiting on Connie.” She shrugged, thinking of the horrendously boring hours in Connie’s salon, stuck in the VIP room alone while waiting for the chemicals on her hair to do their job. She’d missed her appointment, but Connie had worked her in anyway. Gypsy had wished she would have just told her to go to hell so she could escape the torturous hours alone. Connie and her assistants had done their job excellently, though. Her deep, dark brown hair now had the faintest streaks of sun-lightened browns and tawny blond peeking out.
“That wasn’t necessary, dear,” her mother murmured, as though Gypsy were some wet-behind-the-ears new consultant. “I’m sure Mr. Wyatt will let us know when he’s ready for ideas. He’s not a man who likes to be pushed, you know.”