BONDS OF JUSTICE

Gareth. Rumor. Pr

There was nothing else. She’d clearly been interrupted before she could finish the thought. Fighting a rush of possessive protectiveness when he realized it had to have happened the morning of her abduction, he glanced into the bedroom, saw that she was sleeping peacefully. There was, he thought with a wrench deep in his heart, no need to disturb her. Except . . . it had to be important if she’d left the milk unopened on the counter to write it—and his Sophie, the gutsy woman who’d refused to give in to a sociopath, was strong enough to handle this.

Going to kneel beside the bed, he cupped her cheek, the thin lines of her scars a familiar pattern. “Sophie?” He couldn’t help tracing the lines with a string of tender kisses.

She stirred, her eyes obviously heavy as she opened them. “Mmm?” Beside her, Morpheus—who hadn’t left her side since she came home—shot him a jaundiced look.

“You heard a rumor about Quentin Gareth.” He dropped little kisses on the corners of her mouth. “What was it?”

Another small sound, and she snuggled closer.

“Report from Prague,” she muttered, as if in her sleep. “Vague rumor.” She turned toward his mouth, a kitten seeking more affection.

“What about the rumor, sweetheart?” He brushed her hair off her face, petting her with more kisses. “Sophie?”

“Gareth might’ve killed a student four months ago.” It was a crystal-clear statement. “Student was on a Center short list.”

“He was considered flawed,” Max murmured out loud.

“Hmm.”

If the rumor was true, Max realized, Quentin wasn’t simply a calculating, high-level mole for Henry Scott, he was a fanatic who believed absolutely in Pure Psy. And that kind of an individual could snap if he sensed any type of a—

The doorbell chimed.





CHAPTER 44


The first thing Max realized was that Security hadn’t called up—every instinct he had went on high alert. “Sophie, sweetheart, wake up.” Shoving off the blankets, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom, sitting her down with her back against the wall beside the sink. Morpheus followed on silent feet.

Flicking a few drops of water onto Sophia’s face, he roused her. “Lock the door behind me, and stay here until I come for you.”

“Max? What’s wrong?” Her gaze was still a little dazed.

“Maybe I’m being a paranoid fool, but maybe we have some bad company.” Taking his spare stunner from his boot, he put it in her hand. “Just press this if someone comes for you. And take my cell phone—call Enforcement if things turn to shit.” The doorbell chimed again as he put the cell phone in her lap. “Understand?”

At her nod, he pulled the door closed and waited until he heard the lock snick into place before he walked out to the front. He wasn’t surprised to check the surveillance and find Nikita on the other side, with Quentin Gareth beside her. “Nikita,” he said, opening the door, his stunner hidden by his side. “What is it?”

“Quentin has a stunner held flush to the back of my skull,” Nikita said, frigidly unruffled.

Max took a step back as Gareth urged Nikita into the apartment. Max saw Nikita’s eyes sweep the room, wondered what she was searching for. “Sophia’s not here,” he said, testing Gareth’s reaction. “The medics wouldn’t release her.”

“Her brain’s likely mush by now in any case,” the other male said, his eyes glittering in a way that spoke of a disordered mind that had lost any sense of reality. “Detective, if you don’t want the Councilor’s brains to leak out her ears, too, please place your own weapon on the coffee table.”

Max did as asked, having caught Nikita’s eye. For some reason, she was cooperating with Gareth. What, he thought, would make a woman of Nikita’s power hold her fire?

“Good,” Gareth said as Max drew away from the coffee table. “Stand against the counter.”

Max did so, facing Gareth. “What’re you planning to do now?” He heard something from the bedroom, felt his spine lock as he realized Sophia had exited the bathroom.

But Gareth didn’t seem aware of anything but his mission. “Now we wait.”

“For Henry, I assume,” Nikita said. “Does he really think you have the ability to dispose of me?”

“I press this trigger, and your brain is so much liquid three seconds later.”

“I’ve infected you,” Nikita said quietly while Max, for the first time in his life, wished that he’d been born a telepath. What the fuck was Sophia thinking? “Your mind,” Nikita added, “is already being consumed by a mental virus.”

Gareth’s hand didn’t tremble, though the odd shine in his eyes seemed to flare even brighter. “I expected as much. It will be a small price to pay to save the Net.”

Martyrs, Max knew, were even more dangerous than fanatics.

“Is Sascha dead?” Nikita asked, giving Max the information he needed.