Tangle of Need

It took him three hours to wedge open a small doorway in the wall of black without tripping the inbuilt alarms. Slipping through, he closed it behind himself, concealing the doorway for later access. The barricade proved to have been nothing but a firewall meant to discourage anyone from continuing to follow the trail—because it was hot again on this side.

Even as he swept through the slipstream in search of his target, part of his brain continued to sift and sort the millions of pieces of random data that floated past. Rumors, whispers, business information, snippets of fading conversation, it was all filtered out so it wouldn’t clog his mind. Until a single fragment made him pause.

…pushed the anchor down the steps, but his death…

Not halting his psychic pursuit, he touched the NetMind’s curious presence, asked it to follow the fragment. The vast neosentience returned to him in a split second with the report that the fragment was all that remained. The rest of the conversation had degraded, its energy absorbed back into the Net.

Regardless, only one anchor had died in that manner in the preceding weeks. And since the mode of his death had not been made public, the fragment appeared to infer the male had been murdered. What Kaleb couldn’t reason out was why. As he and Aden had discussed, the death of an anchor offered no one in the Net any advantage.

Following that logic, it was likely the murder was tied to something that had nothing to do with the victim’s position as an anchor. That other reason was often cold, rational money—the anchor’s heirs might simply have wanted to hasten the speed of their inheritance.

Kaleb sent Aden a telepathic message, taking care not to disturb the trail in front of him. It glowed a faint silver to his psychic senses, and he was almost certain this was it … when it disappeared with total abruptness.

I’ll follow up. Aden’s telepathic voice.

Kaleb responded automatically. Contact me as soon as you discover anything. He scanned his surroundings for any hint of the silver thread. But it was gone as if it had never existed.





Chapter 48


FIVE DAYS AFTER the visit to his parents, Riaz watched Adria jog past with a small group of her kids. Perched as he was on top of the jungle gym part of the training run, he had an excellent view, knew she was teaching them one of the emergency evacuation routes they might one day have to utilize to protect the pups, should all the dominants be needed to hold back an invading force.

Man and wolf both stopped what they were doing to watch the woman who, he was slowly beginning to see, was as much a nurturer as an aggressive protector. An unusual combination, rare in the hierarchy. While she was undoubtedly a dominant soldier with impressive offensive capabilities, there was a gentleness about her that was more akin to that of the maternal females. It was an aspect of her personality he’d brushed up against more than once without realizing it—and it made his protectiveness toward her intensify, until he knew he’d have to be careful not to cross lines that would most definitely annoy his amber-eyed wolf.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she turned to look over her shoulder, her expression softening. “Hey,” she mouthed.

“Hey,” he mouthed back.

Lips curving, she returned her attention to the teenagers around her, disappearing under the thick canopy of the trees not long afterward. His wolf stretched its neck, trying to catch a final glimpse of her, but it didn’t snarl when the trees continued to block its view—it knew she’d return to him, the bonds between them no longer cobweb fine. What had happened after Venice had changed things on a fundamental level.

He’d made his decision, made his claim.

Adria hadn’t rejected his possession—not the same as acceptance, but as he’d told her, he was a patient man. Smiling at the way this skittish wolf was beginning to trust him with pieces of her heart, he turned his attention back to the obstacle course that was the training run. The soldiers had begun to learn the old pattern, which meant it was time to reconfigure it into a new one, which he was doing, with Judd’s help.

The other lieutenant, his hair back to its normal chocolate brown shade—Riaz’s wolf snorted—teleported him a wrench when he called out for it. “Thanks.” He twisted a stubborn bolt into place, his mind going through the issues to be discussed at the upcoming lieutenant meeting. “Heard anything from Ashaya?”

“Just an update on how long her initial tests will take,” Judd called out from under the structure. “Approximately a month. Ashaya’s very dogmatic and detail oriented in her work.”

“Good.” Unscrewing a small piece, he snapped it into a new position on the right. “Bowen—what’s your take?”

Judd came out from under the structure to look up at him, wiping his forearm across his sweat-damp forehead and leaving a streak of grease behind. “He is, in a sense, an alpha. The Alliance looks to him for direction and protection—seen that way, his actions may be ruthless, but they’re for the good of his pack.”

“Spoken like a true wolf.”

Judd caught the wrench he threw down, waiting until Riaz’s feet hit the ground to say, “As Drew would say, if you can’t beat ’em…”