Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(32)

A tall dark-haired man with sharply arched brows pushed his way through the front doors, a dead cat in his arms. An orange-striped tabby that looked a lot like the one she’d been talking to in her apartment. Right before she realized Tighe was there.

Her teeth clenched beneath the force of her anger. Damn Tighe. He’d chosen death over interrogation. And just what did that say about his lack of innocence? Plenty.

Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back harshly. He’d kidnapped her. He’d drugged her. He was one of the bad guys. She was being ridiculous to care what happened to him.

But she did care. He was a complex man. Without a doubt, he went beyond the law, but she didn’t believe he was evil. Not evil.

He’d shown her more tenderness, more care, than anyone since her mom died. And the passion…

She turned, pretending to scrutinize the area as she swiped away a traitorous tear before her boss saw it.

Tighe shouldn’t have died like this. But, dammit, it was his own fault. If he’d allowed himself to be taken in, this wouldn’t have happened.

She fought back the emotions, struggling to pull her FBI persona around her like a sturdy, comfortable cloak. When she turned back to Phil, no tears glistened in her eyes. Despite her less than professional attire, she was Agent Randall through and through.

“I need a blood sample taken, Phil, ASAP.”

Phil’s brows drew together with worry. “What happened, Delaney? You’re not here by accident.”

“It’s a long story.”

Phil’s expression turned grave. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” She ran not-quite-steady fingers through her tangled, smoky-smelling hair. “There’s more going on here than a madman with a penchant for killing. I was kidnapped and drugged.” It sounded so sinister, yet he’d never hurt her. Instead, he’d given her such pleasure. Delaney sighed. “The sooner we get a blood sample, the better the chance the lab can figure out what he used on me.”

“I’ll take you to the lab myself.” His gaze went back to the building. “What in the hell is taking them so long? I saw the bullet pierce his chest. There’s no way he’s still walking.”

As Phil ushered her toward his car, her stomach cramped, and she feared she was going to be sick. She shouldn’t feel this awful, wrenching regret. It went against everything she believed in. Tighe had not been one of the good guys.

Yet the thing that had distracted him was the child in his arms. A child he’d clearly saved.

Her eyes burned. Remorse grew and thickened inside her until she could barely breathe around the pulsing grief. He shouldn’t have died.

She blinked hard, clenching her teeth as she struggled to keep the unacceptable tears from falling. Her hand went to the gun still tucked into the back of her pants, the solid weight against her palm grounding her, easing her inner turmoil.

Long ago she’d sworn an oath to uphold the law. She would not feel guilty over doing just that. Tighe had given her no choice.

What she’d done was necessary. It was right. And if she had it to do over again, she’d do exactly the same.

Even if she feared Tighe’s face would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Chapter Eleven

In the nearby Virginia suburbs, Paenther snapped his cell phone closed and shoved it into the inside pocket of his leather duster as he and Foxx strode through the doors of the Tysons Corner Grand Peerage Hotel. Late-afternoon sunshine ribboned across the plush oriental-style carpeting. Crystal chandeliers hung at regular intervals, illuminating the business-suited guests mingling in small, professional gatherings.

“What did Lyon have to say?” Foxx asked, as they started across the lobby, heading for the dark-paneled Roosevelt’s at the far end. The bar was one of a dozen watering holes the Ferals frequented in that part of the county. A favorite of Vhyper’s. And Paenther was damned well going to find him.

“Lyon’s called a meeting in the war room in two hours. This is going to have to be our last stop.”

“How’s Tighe?”

“They got the bullets out of him. He’ll live.” For now. If Tighe didn’t find that clone of his soon, it was going to be another matter. His hands fisted at his sides as worry for his friends twisted and braided with the barely controlled rage that lived in his bones and had for centuries. He refused to lose two friends to that sadistic bitch, Zaphene. Refused.

Lyon and the others were helping Tighe. It was his job, his and Foxx’s, to track down Vhyper. Maybe, maybe, they’d find Vhyper downing a scotch at the bar. Yeah, and what were the chances?

“Any word from that gut of yours, Cub?” Paenther’s gaze pinned the youngest Feral, walking silent and morose beside him. Foxx had fancied himself in love with Zaphene, not realizing she was a witch who’d enchanted him and used him to breach the Ferals’ stronghold.

But it was neither pity nor sympathy that spurred Paenther to bring him along on the search. No, for the past year or so, Foxx’s Feral talents had been starting to come online. He’d been showing some impressive talent as an intuitive.

With any luck, that intuition would eventually guide them to Vhyper. And if that didn’t work, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Other than continue to haunt Vhyper’s usual hot spots in hopes of eventually stumbling upon him.

The young Feral shook his shaggy head of red hair. “Gut’s saying nada. Actually, my gut’s saying it wants a couple of beers, then some dinner.”