Savage Hunger(74)

Robert shook his head quickly. “These men—shifters—they move so much faster than us. They’re always one step ahead.”

“First the police officer we tipped off came out saying they weren’t there—how the hell the P.I.A. pulled that off I’d love to know! And now this. You’re worthless! You and your little lackeys.” She fisted her hands and unfisted them, turning away from him to pace the floor. But not before she’d seen the flicker of hurt in her lover’s face.

Irritation had her biting back a snarl. Robert knew better than to look at her to be a lover that coddled him. In the bedroom she often let him take charge, but when it came to business there was no question about who wore the pants. And he’d known exactly whom he’d taken into his bed three years ago when they’d jumped from business associates to lovers. And she wasn’t about to start playing nice right now—especially with what was at stake.

Everything was spiraling out of control. Far too quickly.

“Did you discover anything about our man inside the agency?” she asked tightly. “Did you see him at the safe house?”

“At one point, yes, and he seems quite allied with the P.I.A.” Robert sighed. “Trust me, if we’d had a clear shot I would’ve taken him out myself.”

“See that you do. I’m done with his bullshit. The bastard thinks he can take my money and run with the shifters. Let him die with the rest of his friends.”

Footsteps sounded, before Robert’s hands descended onto her shoulders, attempting to rub the tension out of her tight muscles.

Her thoughts slid away, back to the idea she’d had earlier. The one she knew was their biggest chance. It all centered around who Sienna’s father was, and just exactly how he might be of use in Jocelyn’s planned destruction of the shifters.

God she hated them. Hated what they’d done so many years ago. It was said time healed all wounds, but time had only made hers fester. Bubble with a bitterness and desire for revenge. And she was so close. So very close.

“We will find Sienna and hopefully even the jump drive,” Robert soothed.

Any attempt at relaxing slipped away and her teeth smashed together. Jocelyn slid away from his impromptu massage and turned to face him.

“You’re damn right we’ll find her. But we’re going to have to change plans. Again.”





Sienna swallowed the unshakeable sense of unease as she strode across the tarmac toward the small jet. The roaring of the engines made conversation impossible between her and the agents who flanked her. The tension between Warrick and Agent Hilliard wasn’t what it was yesterday, but it hadn’t completely disappeared.

Which was ridiculous. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours that it made their little fight in the woods seem like two little boys throwing a tantrum.

She’d been hoping to have some alone time last night with Warrick, but once they’d arrived at the new safe house she’d been sent off to her own room.

At first it had stung, but then she’d accepted that it was probably for the best because once her head had hit the mattress she’d passed out early and slept hard through the night. She’d woken to find that half the men had never even gone to sleep—and the other half were on their way to the airport.

“Let me make sure it’s clear,” Hilliard yelled from in front of her, and climbed the stairs to board the jet.

Sienna glanced through her lashes over at Warrick. His attention wasn’t on her though, but instead skated around the area as if seeking out any unseen dangers.

Did they really think someone was hiding in the cabin of the plane or nearby, ready to attack? Though after yesterday, it seemed entirely possible.

“All clear.”

At Hilliard’s words she gripped the handle and started up the steps. She felt Warrick close behind her, and when her foot slipped his arm went around her waist to steady her. Her stomach did little somersaults and her pulse quickened.

“You okay?” His concerned question caressed her ear with warm breath.

“Fine. I’m fine.” She gave a jerky nod and continued up the rest of the steps.

Agent Hilliard stood at the front of the plane and gestured for her to go inside. She gave him a brief smile as she stepped past him. She chose a seat in the first row, fastening herself in before glancing around. The seats were wide and spacious, with only a couple dozen rows or so on a plane that could’ve held a few times that many.

It seemed almost ostentatious that the P.I.A. owned and operated a private jet. But then they likely invested in a plane for practicality more than lavishness. And the ability to keep the kind of organization that the P.I.A. was quiet probably took major money.