BONDS OF JUSTICE

“No. But she’s in our control. She won’t be harmed if you do exactly as ordered.”


“If she’s alive,” Nikita continued, “I should be able to reach her telepathically, and I can’t.”

“You’re a creature of habit, Nikita—I spiked the water jug in your office with a drug that’s temporarily dampened your range.” A pause. “It’s a variant of Jax, still experimental, so I hope you didn’t drink more than your usual single glass.”

“How could you have possibly reached Sascha?” Max asked, hoping like hell that Sophia would keep herself hidden. Quentin Gareth was insane, but he was still in full control of that weapon. “She’s surrounded by DarkRiver cats.”

“We shot the DarkRiver alpha as he drove her home. It was easy to take her.”

And Max knew without a doubt that Gareth was lying. Because if Lucas was dead and Sascha missing, Dorian would’ve been hunting Gareth down with the lethal rage of a leopard in stalking mode, not running a search for Max. “He’s lying.”

Nikita met his gaze. “I need to be certain, Detective. Quentin informs me that if he tells his superiors he’s been taken, or if his star disappears from the Net, Sascha will be put to death.”

Max saw the bedroom door begin to open. Shifting to the left in a sudden move, he made Gareth swivel toward him—though the man continued to use Nikita as a shield. “I wouldn’t go for your stunner, Detective,” he said. “We need to question you in order to ensure you didn’t share classified information about our cause, but you’re not indispensible.”

A tiny squeak as the bedroom door opened farther, but Max was already talking. “What’s your master promised you?” The choice of words was deliberate. “A position of power? Money?”

“That question shows you know nothing about me. I’m doing this for the good of the Psy race.” And then at last, he confirmed his allegiance to Pure Psy. “Purity will save us.”

“I called Faith.” It was a husky statement from the bedroom doorway. “Sascha’s fine.”

What happened next was so fast, so deadly, Max was never quite able to put the sequence of events in order. A stunner blast hit Gareth from the bedroom, the pulse glancing off him as Sophia’s arm trembled. At the same time, or an instant later, Nikita went to her knees, even as Max’s hand closed around the stunner on the coffee table. He turned, his shot, set to stun, hitting Gareth square in the chest . . . but the male was already falling, blood pouring out of his ears, his eyes, his nose.

Rising to her feet as Gareth crashed onto the floor, his body twitching in the throes of death, Nikita coded in a call on her cell phone. “Sascha,” she said as Max ran to Sophia, “I wanted to ask if you received the contracts I sent last night.” A pause. “Excellent.” Hanging up, Nikita looked down at Gareth’s corpse with an utterly dispassionate gaze. “Henry is very good at telepathic wipes. He made sure Quentin carried no memories I could use to pin this on him, but I know he was behind it.”

Max placed Sophia gently against the wall and looked up at the woman who’d just destroyed a man’s brain in a splintered second. “I guess the drugs didn’t dampen your range enough.”

“A miscalculation on their part. It only affected my long-range sending abilities.”

And Gareth had been standing right next to her. “He was the only one. Marsha’s blood loyal and Tulane’s clean—I’d keep an eye on the intern, but my gut says he’s more apt to give you his devotion than anything else.”

“I don’t have time to keep an eye on everyone,” Nikita said, redoing the single button on her jacket with an efficiency that told Max the dead man on the floor had already been dismissed from her thoughts. “However, you would be very good at it.”

Max blinked. “Are you offering me a job?”

“I need a security chief. Think about it.”

He didn’t have to. “I’m a cop.”

“You can remain one—Enforcement people have been known to be seconded onto a Councilor’s private team. I’m willing to be flexible if you wish to continue to keep track of your old cases.” Her gaze switched to Sophia. “Ms. Russo—the Corps has requested I release you as soon as possible so that you can be returned to the active roster.”

With that detached reminder that Sophia was once again a functioning J, expected to walk into the abyss again and again and again, Nikita headed to the door. “A cleanup crew will arrive shortly. You may want to move into your apartment for the time being. And ensure that large black feline doesn’t taste Quentin’s blood—my viruses have never transmitted through organic matter, but I can’t guarantee that.”

With those chill words, she was gone. Helping Sophia to her feet, Max walked them out of the apartment and into his own. Morpheus had too much class to lick at Gareth’s blood. Turning up his nose at the lifeless Psy, he padded into the neighboring apartment behind Max and Sophia.