“Hey, I’m sorry.” Jana caught up with him a few moments later, her hand on his arm. “I do know a lot about the Thirst, but obviously not enough about Bloodmates. I’ll be sure to research the Archives when I return to Rome, and there’s a Librarian I’ve heard of that has a wealth of information that I’ll search out and question at length.”

Flint’s body relaxed, somewhat, at her calming voice and her intentions. “Thank you,”

“It’s just not a common occurrence that it’s not something we generally spend time on. I apologize for joking around about it.” She side-bumped their shoulders. “I’m happy for you, I am.”

“Again, thanks,” he relented, giving her a smile. “Now we need to face Quinn. I doubt he’s going to be happy that you’re here.”

“I’ve told you, I’m not here officially. I’m here as your friend.” She quirked her eyebrow. “We go way back and I know you and Clarence don’t exactly get along, but I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“Clarence, shit, he doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Flint’s heart sped up at the thought of the stuffy English Vampire appearing to halt their plans of taking out Kragen Smithson and his merry men.

“No, he has no clue. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s in Argentina or somewhere like that. They’ve got a particularly nasty problem down there at the moment. A gang of Supernaturals have gone rogue so he’s heading up the local office and helping them to stop the bastards.”

Relief flooded him just as they arrived at the massive doors behind which Quinn would be waiting. Did he already know? Or were they going to blindside him by arriving with Jana? Guess he’d find out soon enough. Truth be told, he didn’t care either way. She was an asset. He’d seen her take down men twice her size, get up, move on and do it all over again. He’d rather have her at his side than any of Quinn’s men. That was for damn sure.

A pang of regret at telling Victor to remain with Kimber ran through him. There was nobody, absolutely nobody that he’d rather have next to him going into battle than Victor, but he’d made the right decision. His friend should be with his Bloodmate, his pregnant mate, and that was the truth of the matter. Now that he’d found Kenzie, he was even more certain of that fact and that he’d made the right decision. Didn’t stop him missing him though. This would be the first time he’d gone into battle without Victor by his side and damn if it didn’t feel strange.

Taking a deep breath, he heaved the door open and stepped inside . . . finding Quinn pacing back and forth before the massive fireplace, his face cold and angry and with no sign of Thorne. The curtains were open and light shone inside. Well, shoot, it was daylight and that must mean Thorne wasn’t a day-walker. He’d thought he might be. He didn’t get a chance to think about it any longer as his host stormed toward them, stopping toe to toe with him.

“You dare to face me?” His eyes bored into Flint’s, cheeks flushing red and he could see Quinn wasn’t just angry, he was furious, his lips curling back in a vicious snarl as he carried on. His voice thick with emotion as he fumed. “You walk in here like this? As if there’s nothing wrong? And all the time you’ve brought the damn Directive into my home! I won’t have it. I don’t care how many favors Victor is cashing in . . . it’s not enough. I want you gone. You hear me? Gone! I’ve given orders for Ace to go directly to your place and pack up your things and that includes your Bloodmate. He’s on his way now. I suggest you get over there and make other arrangements . . .”

Flint saw red, literally, as Quinn’s words sank in. His muscles tightening and every cell in his body firing up in readiness for battle. His right hand shot out, so fast that nobody, not even Quinn, saw it coming. He caught the man around his throat, lifting him clean off his feet and tightened his grip as his fangs broke free. Looking up at him with a look of unadulterated fury, his voice cold, dark, and fierce, he spat out, “That’s not happening. You agreed to the deal and you’ll damn well stick to it . . . understand? If you renege on it . . . you and I are going to have a huge fucking problem. One that we’ll sort right here and now.”

Quinn struggled, his hands clawing at Flint’s hand ineffectually, but no words could make it past his lips, and that’s when Jana intervened. She stepped up, nudging Flint with her shoulder and shaking her head as she looked between the two of them. “Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Jana Noskova, and I presume you know that I’m Magno Zara’s Second in Command, going by your rather inhospitable tirade a moment ago, that is.”

She turned her attention on Flint, waggling her eyebrows, dramatically. “What?” he growled.

“Please release Mister Alexander, Flint, it’s not conducive to a meaningful conversation having you strangling the man,” she reprimanded him with a glint in her eyes.

He didn’t want to. No, that wasn’t true. He hated the thought of releasing his hold on Quinn. Not after he’d even thought of tossing Kenzie off his property, but Jana was right . . . as ever. So, he slowly, very slowly, relaxed his hold and lowered Quinn to the floor where he immediately swiped Flint’s hands away and snarled over at him.

“Don’t ever touch me again.”

“Don’t ever threaten my Bloodmate’s safety again and I won’t have to,” Flint fired straight back.

“You brought the Directive into my home, you imbecile! Don’t you know what that means?”

“If I’d done that . . . then yes. But I didn’t.” Flint stepped back, running a hand through his hair and exhaling loudly as he tried to calm the tsunami of emotions that were roiling through him. “I didn’t call the Directive, hell’s fire, do you think I’m stupid? They’re the last people I’d call!”

“Thanks, Flint, I love you too,” Jana quipped, her hand on her heart as she pasted a fake hurt mien on her face. “Now stop it both of you.”

Quinn’s focus turned to her, looking her up and down warily. “So you’re the legendary Jana Noskova?”

“Indeed, I am the one and only.” She gave him an appraising look, taking her time as her eyes roamed his body from the bottom up. “And you’re the Quinn Alexander that I’ve heard so much about. I have to say I’m a little disappointed to find you having such a hissy fit and ready to abandon a girl that’s injured . . . you weren’t really going to do that. Were you?”

Jana closed the distance between her and Quinn, standing toe to toe with the man and glaring into his eyes. Flint stopped pacing, enjoying watching him squirm under her inscrutable gaze. He didn’t waver though, and that took some balls, until finally his shoulders slumped. “Probably not. I was upset and acted out of anger,” he admitted. “Ace tried to talk me out of it, in fact, he said he refused to remove the girl. That he’d call me back in an hour and see if the situation had changed.”

Flint’s legs shook as relief flooded him. “Thank fuck! I was ready to go over there and take on your men, you fucking idiot.”

“Indeed,” Jana rolled her shoulders. “And I would’ve been by his side. Trust me, Mister Alexander, you would’ve had a lot of clean up to do if that had happened.”

“Will someone please explain what exactly is going on here?” Quinn looked over at Flint then back at Jana, an annoyed expression flitting across his face. It was obvious that he didn’t like not being in the loop.

“Of course, but can we at least sit down? And I could do with a drink too,” Jana asked none too subtlety.

Quinn seemed to collect himself, arcing his arm toward the sofas. “Certainly, my apologies. Please, take a seat. What would you prefer? Wine, or something else?”

Jana went toward the fireplace, her body moving with a grace that turned heads wherever she went and it wasn’t lost on Flint that Quinn’s eyes watched her intently as she moved elegantly across the room. She looked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Wine? No, I think we need something stronger. Don’t you? And as we’re in Scotland, I suggest a good Whisky.”

“As you wish. I already have one opened.” He nodded to the ornate table next to his leather armchair. “Will that be acceptable?”

“Sure,” she replied and sat down on the sofa nearest to his chair, crossing one of her long legs over the other, her eyes never leaving him as he went to get more glasses.

As he did that Flint took the armchair farthest away and Talon remained standing at the door, but Jana was having none of that. “Talon, come and sit down for goodness’ sake.”

“I’m fine here.”

“I said . . . come and sit down. How can we relax with you hovering about there?”

“I can go and wait outside,” he spluttered, looking uncomfortably at Quinn.

“It’s fine, sit.” Quinn returned with enough crystal for them all and poured large measures before handing them out.

Jana sipped hers and looked around. “I’m surprised you don’t have staff around to take care of you?”

Quinn’s lips pursed, his eyes darkening for a split second before he acknowledged Jana’s comment. “Usually I do. However, most of those are human and with this problem we have at the moment I didn’t want any harm to come to them. So, I sent some of them home and told them to stay away until further notice. I wouldn’t risk them getting in the middle of any of this . . . that would be unthinkable. They’ve been with me for years, in fact, a lot of them are third and even fourth generation workers. I take care of them so, no, there are none of them available at the moment.”

Jana pounced, on the one word that Flint had picked up on too. “Some? You sent some of them home? What did you do with the rest? Are they in the dungeons of this place perhaps?” she chuckled.

He didn’t laugh back. Instead his brows furrowed and his eyes darkened again as he stared hard over at her. “Of course not. They’re being well looked after at a nearby hotel. Those are the staff who live on the premises and have been in my employ for many years. They don’t own property so don’t have anywhere else to go. As I said, I’m taking care of them. I also have guards stationed with them, just in case.”

Jana’s head canted, and Flint knew that scrutinizing look. She was taking her measure of the man before them. As was he. Maybe he’d misjudged him, because that’s just the kind of thing that Victor would’ve done. Jana tipped her head. “That’s very commendable, Quinn. Not many would go to such lengths for their employees. Humans especially.”

He didn’t reply, sipping on his drink and shrugging.

Flint agreed.

A few seconds passed before Quinn spoke, coming straight to the point. His body appeared relaxed in the chair, but there was a telling tick at the side of his eye and his jaw was clenched just a little too tightly which gave away his feelings and how upset he was. He was angry, annoyed, and truth be told, Flint couldn’t blame him. “Why are you here if not on Directive business? As you say, you’re Second in Command, an extremely high position in the Directive, yet here you are in my home. You can understand why I was upset, can’t you? I deserve to know why you’re here.”

Flint remained silent, swirling his drink around before sipping it, he watched over the rim of the glass as Jana locked eyes with Quinn. She didn’t respond. Not at first. Her blue eyes staring right into his green . . . and he knew what she was doing. Damn, the woman was good. He’d seen her play this game before and not one damn time had she lost. Never. And he doubted she’d lose this time either. All it took was . . . time.

Talon shuffled on the sofa, the leather creaking beneath him, his breathing sounding strangled and uneasy. Flint glanced over and saw the Wolf’s head anxiously darting to look between Jana and Quinn. He could almost feel the apprehension rolling from him as he fidgeted before lifting his glass and downed his whisky all at once. Poor guy. Flint thought before he turned back to the tableau he was finding so amusing.

Jana hadn’t moved, although Quinn appeared not to have, his eyes told a different tale. His left eyebrow had risen, ever so slightly but it was noticeable, and there was also a tightening along his jawline as well as his fingers that wound around the expensive crystal that held the amber liquid that tasted rather fine. It wasn’t Glenmorangie Grand Vintage Malt, but it was still a good blend in Flint’s opinion. In contrast, Jana was as relaxed as always, apart from her steely eyes. Those were as calculating as ever, taking in every miniscule detail of her opponent . . . and there was no mistake that’s what Quinn was and Flint guessed that Quinn had just realized it.

Seconds ticked by until finally Quinn let out a long sigh, his hand rising with his glass to take a sip of his drink . . . and admitting defeat of a battle that he hadn’t known he’d been in. “Isn’t it rather rude not to answer a direct question?” he asked instead.

“I answer what I want, when I want.” Jana raised her glass, drinking and looking at Quinn over the top. “But I’ll tell you why I’m here . . . him.” She pointed to Flint. “He’s a personal friend of mine and I heard he was in trouble. It’s . . . as . . . simple . . . as . . . that.”

She lifted her glass, downing the rest of the amber liquid then holding it out toward Quinn, shaking it around and silently requesting a fill-up. He tilted his head, glancing over at Flint and then at Jana and back at him again. “Powerful friends you have, Flint.”

“I had no idea she was even in the country and even if I did, I wouldn’t have called her.”

“That’s Flint for you,” Jana exhaled, shaking her head. “He can never get over the fact that I work for Magno . . . can you?”

“Not really.” Flint shrugged and watched as Quinn proceeded to start peppering Jana with questions about her position within the Directive, most of which she tiptoed around with her usual elegant ease.

It was as they verbally sparred back and forth, Quinn refilling everyone’s drinks, that Flint grew restless. What was he doing here? Sitting drinking and listening to this while his Bloodmate lay injured?

He sprang to his feet, everyone’s eyes spinning to him as he slammed his glass onto the antique table next to his chair. “I can’t be here. You don’t need me, not now. There’s nothing happening and my Bloodmate is injured. I should be there, not here listening to you two sparring like a couple of . . .” He stopped, his breaths coming in great gulps as he realized he was ranting. It wasn’t their fault that he was feeling guilty. Shit. “Sorry. Look, I’ll be at the cottage if you need me. Talon has my number.”

Talon shot to his feet, his crystal joining Flint’s. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Flint sighed, but knew the Wolf wanted an escape. He’d been uncomfortable from the moment they’d arrived. “But I’d be grateful for the company . . . Jana, I assume you’ve still got my number?”

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “I do. Do you need me to come?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Stay and keep me updated on any developments.”

“Okay, Flint, and you do the same.” She gave him a smile, small and sad. “I hope your Bloodmate recovers soon, my friend.”

“Thanks.” He tipped his head at her and Quinn and turned to leave, guilt flooding through him as he did. What the hell kind of mate was he? Leaving Kenzie for hours instead of being right there with her? Fuck.

From now on, he was staying right there with her until Smithson and his damnable men made an appearance.