“What’s going on, boys?”
“Nothing, they were just dropping by clothes.”
She didn’t believe Warrick for a second. She’d been around these men too much lately to not know when they were holding back.
“Warrick, she needs to be told.”
Fortunately Larson seemed to be on her side. And once again, she knew that whatever Warrick was reluctant to tell her wasn’t good. Even with the hard set of his jaw, there was worry beneath the anger in his eyes.
“I do need to be told,” she agreed, her muscles tightening and her blood pounding with frustration. “And if someone doesn’t spit it out soon, I swear to God I’m going to start throwing things.”
The men were all silent for a moment, but then Quinton was the one who finally spoke.
“Your dad’s been taken by the same people who were keeping the shifters prisoner.”
Her heart clenched and her stomach seemed to hit the floor, but it was nothing more than she’d expected. Still, her voice cracked as she asked, “And what do they want?”
“They want you to deliver the jump drive,” Larson answered without emotion.
“Son of a bitch, I told you not to tell her.”
Why me? A noise of alarm rose in her throat, but Sienna smothered it. Her first instinct of fear quickly faded away and was replaced with a flat, steadfast determination. No matter what kind of fear the idea of being the one to personally hand over the jump drive instilled, it was nothing compared to what her dad must be experiencing.
He was probably going out of his mind with terror. What if they were hurting him, or torturing him for some reason? Did they know the magnitude of intelligence they now had in their custody? She bit back a bitter laugh. Of course they did.
“Sienna, we’re not going to send you in there,” Warrick appeared at her side, catching her chin between gentle fingers and turning her head to look at him.
The fierce determination in his eyes sent her heart skipping and warmth spreading from where his fingers touched her. Even now he seemed determined to protect her.
Her brows drew together and she pursed her lips. “Of course you will. They’ve requested I make the trade, and I want my dad safe. I’ll do whatever that entails.”
“I like the way this girl thinks,” Larson muttered.
“Sienna. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Of course I do and don’t treat me like I’m dim-witted,” she replied sharply. “Look, I wish I were capable of creating the antidote that will save the feral shifters, but unfortunately I’m not. We all know this. But we also know where my father is. We need him back, and I’ll do anything it takes to ensure his freedom.”
“Look, the P.I.A. is still formulating a plan.” Quinton’s pale blue gaze flickered with a hint of respect. “Hashing out the final details. Why don’t you both get some sleep tonight and we’ll call you tomorrow bright and early with the plan. Though maybe the less you know, the better.”
Sienna nodded and turned away from the men, walking to the window to stare outside.
A numbness settled over her as she watched the boats moving in and out of the harbor in the setting sun. Behind her the men were still talking in hushed but urgent tones. She caught the occasional word but wasn’t fully listening.
What did it matter? She would be their puppet tomorrow. Go hand off the jump drive to people who probably wanted her dead. Why else would they be asking for her to make the trade? She knew the P.I.A. would vow to protect her, but it was a huge risk. It didn’t matter, though. Getting her father back so he could help the feral shifters mattered.
Footsteps sounded and she vaguely heard either Quinton or Larson mutter good-bye to her. The door to the hotel room opened and shut a moment later, leaving silence in their absence. Even as Warrick returned to her, his steps were silent. But she knew he was approaching. Could sense his gaze on her with the way the hairs on the back of her neck lifted.
When his arms slipped around her waist, her heart fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird and her knees became a little unsteady.
“Sienna.”
Her name was a rush of warm, moist air against her ear. She let her lashes flutter closed and she leaned back into the welcoming, solid embrace of Warrick’s arms. The comfort it automatically gave.
“I don’t want you anywhere near that trade tomorrow,” he muttered thickly.
“We don’t have a choice. You need my dad back, Warrick. And I know you’ll protect me.” Her throat caught. Or he could try. Still, she didn’t voice her doubts, but added instead, “You always do.”
His arms tightened around her waist and his chest lifted with the deep breath he drew in.