She couldn’t move. He was so freakin’ strong. “Heath. Let me go.” She could barely struggle, and her anger rose.
Several steps later, he tossed her onto the bed. Her files and notes scattered in every direction.
She scrambled back, her hands clenching with a new need to punch him in the face. Just who did he think he was?
He stared down, anger burning in his eyes. “You understand that we are dealing with killers, right? One, maybe two?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“Good. Keep your ass in this room and get some sleep. Baby, you definitely do not want to cross me on this.” Without waiting for a response, he left the room and shut the door none too gently.
She stared at the closed door, her mouth gaping. With her own version of a snarl, she yanked off the emerald ring and threw it at the wall. It hit the brick and dropped, bouncing twice on the floor. She winced. Her hands shaking, she pushed off the bed and bent down to retrieve the ring, studying it.
Her mind instantly battled with her emotions, digging into Heath’s psyche and motivations. Oh. She knew enough about Heath already to understand he was coming from a place of worry and concern. Seriously deep and justified concern.
But he could’ve handled his emotions much better. She sighed. Whatever was in his past seemed to have created those rough edges. He really needed to learn a better way to communicate.
The ring glittered, stunning and vibrant, in her hand. Both the band and the gems were perfectly fine.
God, it was beautiful.
She placed it carefully on one of the nightstands. Her limbs felt heavy, and her body was chilled. The pretty bauble didn’t belong to her. Not really.
Dr. Isobel Madison leaned over her keyboard, typing furiously. Code flashed across her screen, and she squinted to read in the dim light. It was well after midnight, and her neck ached. She’d skipped her exercise session earlier, and she could feel it.
Yet . . . she was close and getting even closer. Finally.
She sat back and stretched her arms while her computer went to work. “Ah, Detective Malloy,” she murmured. “I knew you’d come in handy someday.” A short time ago the Snowville cop had worked with some of the other boys she’d created before they’d gone underground again.
A snowstorm rattled against her windows, and she turned to stare into the darkness. Night had masked the training field, which would be littered with ice and snow in the morning.
Elton Cobb strode into the room, sweat across his brow and workout shirt.
She hummed softly to herself. Since they’d started living together full time, he’d made an impressive effort to get in shape. Oh, part of his effort was for her, she knew. The other part was in preparation for finally finding the Lost boys . . . if he got to them first. “How was training?” she asked, letting her gaze linger on his broad chest.
He dropped into a guest chair, his electric blue eyes focused. “Boxing matches went well. There’s a definite difference between your soldiers and the new recruits.”
“Of course,” she said as she stretched her left trapezius muscle, keeping the pride she’d earned out of her voice. “Mine have been trained since birth.” By her beloved commander, may he rest in peace. She winked at the man now occupying her bed most nights. “The rest of the soldiers will be trained well enough, Sheriff Cobb.”
He grinned like a wolf. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes.” All men liked their titles used. He was on leave from his job and needed to be reminded of his status more than most would. “I feel like things are finally coming together here.” In mere weeks her lab would be fully functional, and she could start a new reproductive trial. She still had genetic samples from her other lab to use, but she didn’t fool herself into thinking they were still viable. The sperm was old and had been moved around. She needed new samples.
The Lost boys would provide those first, she decided. If they refused to jack off for her, then she’d just knock them out and take sperm the old fashioned way—with syringes.
Elton twisted his neck. “What are you working on?”
A little truth would appease him. “I’ve had somebody watching a Detective Malloy in Snowville ever since Shane lived there. I’m fairly certain the cop helped Shane get out of town.” Shane had been one of her supersoldiers—one of the Gray brothers—and he’d deserted her. How could he not understand the importance contained in his very genes? She sighed.
Elton cracked his knuckles, his gaze narrowing. “And?”
She lifted a shoulder. “The cop has been doing some odd Internet searches into the Lost Bastards detective agency, and he has been attending local meetings and get-togethers that he has never attended before. I’m trying to hack into his phone, but it’s surprisingly secure for a cop from eastern Washington.”
“You think he’s in contact with Shane?” Elton asked.
“I do not know.” Which was why she was trying to hack into his phone. “I keep an eye on Detective Malloy, and whenever he does something out of his normally very boring routine, I figure out why. So far the only interesting thing about the guy is that he’s dating a veterinarian who likes to buy him flashy ties.”
Elton eyed the storm outside. “It seems like a lot is going on in Snowville. Has our soldier reported back?”
