“See, I was hoping you could tell me that,” the captain replied. His bulky, leather-covered arms crossed in front of his chest as he leaned backward into his seat. “Because the Sloane I know would never lay his hands on a woman, let alone an arrant who can’t defend herself.”
Sloane’s split lips parted with surprise.They think I hurt her.
He was a danger to her, certainly, by his very existence, but she was still his consort. It went against the building blocks of his biology to intentionally harm Cecilia, as it would for any elf.
As far as he was aware, the Starsbury Protocol wasn’t in place to keep their consorts from physical harm. It was to keep the members of Fracture from going off the rails and harmingeveryone else.
Too disturbed and confused by the implication to say anything, he stayed silent. Kazimier’s lips thinned.
“Cecilia Marcella Warren,” the captain began, eyes narrowed. “Server at a local vampire bar. Arrant. No criminal record. Recently submitted an application to the Education Board for a teaching position. Bachelors and masters in education and psychology respectively. Nearly perfect GPA and no tickets, citations, or tax notices.”
The captain paused. Sloane held very still, his expression on lockdown, as the orc examined his face for any sort of reaction. When he got none, he continued, “She’s no one. So I’mdyingto know why my most senior soldier decided to kidnap her and flee the territory.”
Speaking through clenched teeth, Sloane replied, “She’s not no one.”
“Clearly,”Kazimier drawled. “But who is she toyou,Fortuner?”
They don’t know.
Sloane was stunned. He’d thought at least one of his teammates would disclose what they’d learned. Maybe they’d wait until his forty-eight hours were up, adhering to their unique sense of fairness, but they’d definitely tell the captain.
Except he was beginning to suspect that theyhadn’t.Because Kazimier would’ve known better than to imply Sloane hurt his consort, and he wouldn’t have had to askwhyhe’d been so desperate to escape the territory.
Mind whirling, he dared to ask, “How did you find us?”
“Miss Warren was reported missing by a bartender at The Lush when she missed two consecutive nights of work. Her missing person’s file went into the system at the same time that a group of teenage shifters armed with cell phone photos walked into a Patrol station to report a suspicious encounter with a bruised woman and a masked elf.”
Kazimier raised his dark eyebrows. “The pictures matched in the system. Obviously, your helmet was flagged. Then the cashier at the rest stop recognized Miss Warren and sent an automatic audio and visual alert.”
He knew the date was a mistake. That didn’t mean he regretted it. If all he got was one, he would cherish it for as long as they kept him alive.
Still, it did sting his pride a bit to have been caught by some teenagers, of all people.
“You’re not this sloppy, Fortuner,” the captain noted, disapproval thick in his bass voice. “You don’t kidnap women. You don’t get photographed. We both know what you get up to in your free time, but you’ve never once left a shred of evidence behind. So what’s different?”
Sloane met his captain’s gaze steadily. His heart raced and his palms had begun to sweat, but his mind was calm. He didn’t have a plan. He only had instinct, and an offer he never thought he’d accept.
Lifting his bruised chin, he calmly announced, “I want to talk to Atria.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
They tookher back to San Francisco, and she made sure every second of the trip was miserable for each and every one of them.
Cecilia had screamed herself hoarse by the time the masked Patrol unit transferred her into a blacked out van. They’d been forced to restrain her. If they’d had the option, she was fairly certain they would’ve gagged her, too.
At least Sloane had the foresight to drug her first. The yahoos who came busting into the parking lot, bolt rifles blazing, had no idea how to handle her kicking the backs of their seats or threatening to call their mothers. She’d never been spitting mad before, and she’d always figured she was a bit too much of a coward to really fight someone, but when she saw a dozen armed men swarm her elf, she wanted to take them all on herself.
It was no wonder they looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Between bouts of screaming, kicking, insults, and attempts to jump on their backs, she got the impression that they believed they were saving a poor, defenseless arrant from some sort of monster.
What they got instead was a yowling, hissing, pissed off girlfriend who absolutely refused to answer any of their questions without a lawyer or her elf present.
So she wasn’t entirely surprised when the Patrol squadron whorescuedher washed their hands of her. They drove her in the blacked out van for a chaotic and loud half an hour before they came to a screeching halt.
She’d been shoved in the back behind a metal screen, so she watched the men hop out of the van through tiny holes. Sweaty, with her hair sticking to the back of her neck and her throat raw from hollering, Cecilia slumped against the grate.
Beneath the raging fire of her fury was a sickly swell of fear. It rose and fell in tidal waves, tossing her insides around until she swore she would be sick. At least throwing up would serve a purpose. The prick who smashed his gun into Sloane’s head deserved a little puke in his face.
