BONDS OF JUSTICE

“—or we were meant to be a distraction,” Sophia completed.

The question was—Who or what target was important enough to chance taking out a cop? The fact that he was human didn’t negate the danger—all politics aside, Enforcement command would take the murder of one of its officers as a personal attack.


Sascha grinned as Lucas stopped at a small corner shop to buy her an ice cream. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter.”

“You’re welcome, Sascha darling.” He shook his head as they pulled away from the store. “I don’t know where it all goes.”

She took a contented bite of her chocolate-coated chocolate ice cream. “Don’t make me mad.”

He shuddered. “I think you’ve fulfilled your quota of crazy today.”

She made a face at him, able to hear the cat’s humor in his voice. “There is no quota, not once you start carrying around a bowling ball in your belly.” A little pat to reassure the baby, who appeared to be fast asleep. “Not that I don’t adore our little bowling ball.”

A fond glance from the cat beside her. “Why are we going into work?”

“Because they need you to sign documents.” Savoring the delicious treat, she sighed. “It’s such a beautiful day.”

“Let’s take a drive through the Presidio before we head in,” he said, referring to the forested region just outside the city. “You can find a nice sunny spot to eat your ice cream while I take a nap.”

She shot him a laughing glance, warmth filling her body at the remembrance of exactly why he was so sleep-deprived. “Are you complaining?”

“No”—a wicked smile—“I’m planning my revenge.”


Max and Sophia had gone over every piece of evidence related to Nikita’s case twice by the time they were twenty minutes into their flight. “What are we missing?” Max muttered, frustrated at the feeling that they were being blind to something critically important. Bonner and his twisted games just didn’t fit.

The vanilla of Sophia’s shampoo whispered across his senses as she bent her head over her organizer, an invisible caress. “Whatever it is, it must be taking place soon if they came after us in such a high-risk location.” They’d both realized the bomb could’ve been planted anytime in the past forty-eight hours. Which meant—“We have to work on the assumption that the timeline has to be very, very short by now.”

“A strike anytime soon will break the pattern of murders before a big deal.” Max had spoken to Nikita prior to boarding the airjet, reconfirmed that nothing was even close to final. “Why?”

“Something’s made them push their schedule forward.” Her thigh brushed his.

The fleeting touch was a balm, centering him. “Nikita’s people—anyone who’ll be out of easy reach for a long period?”

Sophia tapped the screen of her organizer with quick motions. “Prague, Berlin, Tokyo, hardly out-of-the-way locations. And any who are going are coming back within a week or two at most.”

“It has to be an issue of access,” Max muttered. “And for some reason, they were worried we’d figure it out—”

“You, Max.” Sophia’s eyes turned an intense, incredible night violet. “They were worried you would figure it out—you’re the wild card in this situation, a human whose thought processes they can’t predict.”

“Okay, so a target a Psy wouldn’t immediately think of, coupled with a deadly—” Ice crawled through his veins, right to his heart. “No.”

“Max?”

“Where the hell did I see it?” Reaching into the seat pocket in front of them, he pulled out the entertainment module. “They were flashing the selections on the big screen when we boarded, remember?”

“Yes, but what did you—”

“There!” He stopped on the front page of a national tabloid. The headline was: Scoop! Sascha Duncan Pregnant! Below that was another headline in a slightly smaller font: DarkRiver Alpha Keeps Pregnant Mate Captive!

Max put down the module. “Bastards are afraid the cats really are about to put Sascha into hiding.”

A sick feeling bloomed in the pit of Sophia’s stomach as she remembered the glowing warmth of Sascha’s presence. The E-Psy was something incredibly good, something their race needed to protect, not harm. “Our cell phones won’t work.” As a result of accidents in the twentieth century, all devices were now automatically blocked while an airjet was in the sky.

Max was already rising. “I’ll talk to the steward, get an emergency call out.”

“Wait,” Sophia said. “That’ll take too long. I’ll do it on the PsyNet.” Though she was a very strong telepath, her shields were viciously degraded. If she attempted to send that far without the aid of the Net, they could collapse, killing her before the message reached the intended recipient.