“By the time I realized I had overstepped with Brynne and was offering to see her home, all hell had broken loose in the city.”

“Well, thank God you were together,” Tavia interjected. “I’m glad my sister wasn’t alone to face that kind of horror. I can’t bear to think what might’ve happened if you’d been anywhere near the blast, Brynne.”

“I was fortunate that I wasn’t.” Despite her fleeting look of acknowledgment that Zael hadn’t betrayed her just now, Brynne still looked less than enthused to be associated with him. “Now, I’m just eager to put last night behind me and move forward. Which I plan to do just as soon as I get back home to London.”

“Back home?” Tavia gave her an uneasy look. “I hope you don’t mean that.”

Zael curbed his knowing chuckle. What she meant was she couldn’t wait to put a lot of miles between herself and him. If she was eager to run anywhere, it was away from him, more than back to a ravaged city where she’d admitted she had nothing waiting for her.

As of last night, even less.

He wondered now, as he had on the plane, just what it was that Brynne hadn’t wanted to say about her past. He’d been surprised to see the hauntedness in her eyes. He’d been furious to realize the shadows that darkened her pretty face hinted at wounds she couldn’t bear to speak.

And he’d been stunned to feel a wave of protectiveness toward her that he had no right to feel.

Not for her.

Not for anyone.

If things got messy on an emotional level, he wasn’t one to stick around. More than one person in his lifetime could attest to that.

“I’d feel better if you stayed close to us for a while,” Tavia was saying now. She took Brynne’s hand in hers. “I’m still getting used to the idea that I have a sister in my life. Do you really think I’m going to be okay with letting you go back into a dangerous situation alone?”

Brynne’s lips parted with the beginnings of an argument, but Lucan spoke first.

“I’ve got to agree with Tavia on this. We have to assume Opus knows you’re cooperating with the Order now, which means the odds of you ending up with a target on your back if you return to London are too damned high to risk.”

“I’m a career law enforcement officer, Lucan. I’m a decorated investigator who’s also been trained in combat and crisis negotiations.”

“Good. Then if you don’t want to accept the decision of a higher ranking official, you should be able to recognize when debating one will be futile.”

She chose that moment to glance Zael’s way, and he knew he hadn’t been quick enough to hide his agreeing nod. Not that he wanted to see her unhappy, but he also didn’t want to see her anywhere near the smoldering ruins of JUSTIS or the sadistic fucks who perpetrated the attack.

She would be safest with the Order, whether she wanted to believe that or not.

“They’re right,” Zael said. “You may not have been in the building when it blew last night, but that doesn’t mean Opus knew you weren’t there.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts, clearly outraged by his interference. “Everything points to a well-planned attack. It took time for Opus to execute this. Much longer than the week or so that I’ve been working with the Order.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But what’s to say you didn’t have a target on your back long before then? If not simply because you were part of JUSTIS, then for being kin to one of the Order’s key commanders?”

“Jesus Christ.” The curse came from Sterling Chase. The Boston commander’s grave stare moved from Tavia to her sister. “We thought we were keeping your connection to each other confidential, but what if someone in Opus knows?”

Some of Brynne’s outrage drained from her face as she considered the possibility.

“You’re safe now,” Zael told her. “That’s the important thing.”

She blinked and glanced away from him, refusing to look up again.

Since his presence wasn’t helping the situation, he decided to make things easier for her—and for the people trying to reason with her.

“I’m sure there are many things the Order needs to discuss,” he said, already taking a step toward the door. “If you have no further need of me now, I think it’s time I take my leave.”

Lucan cleared his throat. “Not so fast, Zael. Yes, there are things that need to be discussed—including recent developments concerning your people and their queen.”

CHAPTER 7

After the Order drew Zael into a closed-door meeting in the conference room, Tavia brought Brynne to meet Lucan’s Breedmate in the residence section of the sprawling D.C. estate.

“We’ve got an unusually full house at the moment,” Gabrielle Thorne said as the regal, auburn-haired Breedmate led Tavia and Brynne down an elegant third-floor hallway in the Order’s massive headquarters. “This wing doesn’t get a lot of use these days. The entire third floor was reserved for visiting foreign dignitaries back when the old house was used as an embassy.”

Old house? The place was palatial. Brynne had seen royal residences in England that were less impressive. Intricately tooled millwork lined the ivory walls of the passage and richly colored, thick Persian rugs covered the gleaming dark wood floors. Following her two companions toward the middle of the long corridor, Brynne couldn’t help but admire the many carved busts and neoclassical sculptures that stood on polished pedestals along the way, or the antique photographs of significant landmarks and natural wonders that competed with paintings by master artists on the silk-covered walls.

Her stroll ended in front of the open doors of a sumptuous library that smelled wonderfully of aged leather book bindings and lemon-waxed, old wood. At another time, under different circumstances, she could see herself getting lost among all of those books for days on end.

“I’m sorry you’re going to the trouble to make room for me. I imagine you’ve both got more important things to do, this week especially.”

Gabrielle turned a genuinely warm smile on her. “It’s no trouble at all. Even if you weren’t Tavia’s sister, after all you did for us the other night, you’re part of the Order’s family, Brynne.”