But she couldn’t shake the feeling that her father was up to something more. That he had an ace he hadn’t played yet and was just waiting on her. The communications blackout had kept the spy’s transmissions from going through, and Jonas had whispered to Tanner that they were narrowing the location of the attempted transmissions further in the mountain.

Which left the estate house safe, at least for now.

“One of these days,” Scheme commented as they left the reporters, “one of those reporters is going to catch onto your lies.”

He chuckled at that, pausing as he moved to a small group of women gathered around one tall, blond-haired cowboy.

“Scheme, I’d like you to meet some friends,” he announced. “Tamber Mason.” A tall, well-toned brunette with twinkling brown eyes reached out to shake her hand with a murmured, almost too soft hello. She appeared shy. Restrained. Though the low-cut, almost too short silver dress she wore was anything but restrained. “Tamber is our resident communications expert. She runs the comm shed like a little drill sergeant.”

Tamber ducked her head as though embarrassed with the praise.

“It’s good to meet you, Tamber.” Tamber nodded, mumbled again and offered a small smile.

“This is Shiloh Gage.” He introduced an auburn-haired Jaguar Breed beside Tamber.

This Breed, Scheme remembered.

“The brat?” Scheme’s lips twitched as the other girl stared back at her with brazen curiosity.

Shiloh Gage had been known for several things in the labs she had been created in. Among them was her ability to work the scientists and trainers in a manner that screamed princess brat. Tonight she was dressed in snug tan breeches and a sleeveless, deeply cut vest that revealed a generous cleavage.

She should have been killed within the first five years of her life. Instead, the scientists had written in their reports that they kept her alive for study purposes. They were trying to figure out where she had managed to get the idea that she deserved life, and why she assumed they would care. Personally, Scheme knew that the scientists in that particular lab had a sense of humor.

“That’s me,” Shiloh agreed archly.

“And she doesn’t mind admitting to it.” The tall, blond-haired Southern charmer, human, ex-mercenary and general bad ass, Simon Quatres, spoke from beside Shiloh. “I assume you know who I am?”

“Not everyone knows you, Simon,” Shiloh informed him querulously.

“Actually, I have read several reports on him,” Scheme agreed. Thankfully, he didn’t insist on shaking her hand. The pain would have been hard to hide. “It’s good to meet you.”

“And it’s fine to finally meet you, ma’am,” he drawled. “Ole Tanner seemed to do well for himself after all. He’s surprised us.”

Tanner grunted in reply.

“Callan’s motioning for us now,” Tanner told her, gripping her elbow as she offered her good-byes to the small group.

“Meet and run. An interesting concept,” she told him as they headed toward the front of the ballroom.

“Cabal’s watching,” he murmured in her ear. “You’ll meet a lot of the others the same way.”

“Tamber’s much different from her files,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought she would be so shy.”

“Pissed is more like it,” Tanner sighed. “We had to order her out of the comm shed tonight. She’s been installing new equipment this month and didn’t want to leave her babies.”

Shaking her head, Scheme drew in a deep breath as they neared Callan and stepped onto the podium erected for the band at the far end of the ballroom. Time to smile and play nice, she thought as her gaze swept the room, seeing the distrust, and in many cases the animosity, that filled the eyes of those watching. It was going to be a very interesting night indeed.

Moving through the ballroom after the announcement of their engagement, Scheme spotted Jolian slipping quietly through the French door into the gardens beyond. She knew Jolian had taken a hell of a mental beating from Jonas earlier yesterday, and if the girl’s pale face was any indication, she still hadn’t recovered.

Why she should care, Scheme wasn’t certain. But she did. As Tanner stood talking to Jonas, Dane Vanderale and several politicians, she slipped away, certain he would never allow her to go after the little Panther Breed otherwise.

And slipping away from Tanner wasn’t an easy thing to do. She stopped by several clusters of guests, chatted, smiled, made certain she wasn’t touched, because the first brush she’d had against someone other than Tanner had felt like knives tearing through her flesh.

Long minutes later she edged around the French doors though and stepped onto the patio where Jolian stood silently. And alone.

“Jolian.” Scheme tilted her head, watching as the Breed female tensed at the sound of her voice.

“You should go back inside,” Jolian told her firmly, if a bit huskily. “Cabal would be upset to find us near each other.”

Cabal would be. Strangely enough, Jolian wasn’t worried about Tanner.

“I don’t believe you mean me any harm. I warned them they were making a mistake.”

Jolian’s head lowered, her hands gripping the stone rail that edged the marble patio.

“They think I’m a spy.” Her mocking laughter was a thread of pain. “I could see it in Cabal’s eyes. They were filled with disgust.”

And Jolian was filled with pain because of it.

“You’re in love with him,” Scheme guessed.

“And you’re mated to him and his brother. Damn, some people just have all the luck, don’t they?”

Jolian didn’t turn around. Her hands lifted from the balustrade though and wrapped around her breasts. The loose cream-colored gown she wore wasn’t particularly flattering on her frame, and it was evident no one had taken the time to try to advise her on her dress. Most likely, the other Breeds were steering a path far clear of her at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Scheme said softly. “About Cabal and about what happened yesterday. If you would let me, I could make it up to you.”

Give her some hair and clothes advice to start with.

“How could you help me?” Jolian turned to her, anger marking her face, her gaze. Then her eyes widened, rolled back in her head, and she slumped to the ground.

Scheme rushed toward her, without thinking, without considering the consequences. In the next second, blinding pain shot through her head, sending a blaze of white-hot light to explode in front of her eyes as she felt herself crumpling over the other woman. And wishing to hell she hadn’t come out here without Tanner.

Tamber Mason.

She was trained in communications, and she had been a part of the inner circle of the pride since Sanctuary was first inhabited by the Breeds. She was Merinus’s friend and sometimes bodyguard and Callan’s most trusted communications expert. She often went shopping with Sherra, sparred with Dawn and was rumored to have slept with Tanner and Cabal on several occasions.

She was also Cyrus Tallant’s spy.

This was why the spy was so confident. Why Cyrus had such a hard time controlling her. Her place within Sanctuary had been firmly established years ago. She was, in essence, a part of the family.

Scheme had seen all their files. The Breeds at Sanctuary as well as those now working in the law enforcement and military areas. She had gone over them, studied them, learned all she could about them before they were destroyed. And she had somehow managed to let this one blip past her radar.

Because Tamber was plain. Unassuming. There had been nothing in her files to indicate a connection to Cyrus Tallant or to anyone within her father’s organization. She was simply a well-loved member of the Lyons’ extended family.

But all Scheme had had was her picture to go by. Once she fully heard Tamber Mason’s voice rather than the mumble she had been given at the party, Scheme knew exactly who she was. Her father’s second in command’s former lover.

Scheme had only heard her voice; her father’s wannabe son had never mentioned her name or her expertise.

“You know they’re going to track you,” she warned Tamber as the jeep moved over the uneven road leading through the woods. “They’ll know you were the one who attacked Jolian and took me.”

“It really won’t matter.” Tamber flashed her a hard, cold smile. “I won’t be returning for a while. I’ve just taken care of my mission, two in one; John will take me in for a while.”

Scheme wanted to turn, to check on the unconscious child in the back of the jeep, but she didn’t dare. If she looked at him, she might not survive it, she would break down, and she couldn’t afford that.

“You really think John is going to allow you freedom?” she asked Tamber instead, working at the rope binding her wrists. “Do you think you’re the only spy he’s fucking, Tamber?”

“Actually, I know I’m not.” A smug smile curled Tamber’s lips. “But working in Breed communications isn’t the only thing I’m trained for, Scheme. The Breeds don’t have my DNA; all they have are my fingerprints. DNA is voluntary, you know. In six months, I’ll be right back, working somewhere else within Sanctuary, with a new name and a new face as well as new fingerprints and a different scent. The Council scientist can work with the scent neutralizer and make it whatever they want it to be. I am a chameleon. The Breeds will never know.”

Like hell. Scheme knew that unknown to the Council or to other Breeds, Tanner and Cabal’s sense of smell would easily detect her. And they would be looking for her. She would never survive returning to Sanctuary.

“You’re too confident, Tamber.” Scheme braced herself against the door as she shook her head sadly. “Ego goes hand in hand with failure.”

“I’m confident, period,” she snapped. “I’ve been working on this for years, you stupid bitch.”

There had to be a way to escape. They were following the exact path she had laid out on the map for Callan; all she had to do was find a way to delay Tamber, to make her stop.

Scheme struggled harder with the ropes, feeling the burn of her wrists, the slickness of her own blood, but the ropes were loosening, closer to coming free.

God, she prayed the child slept through this. He was so small still, innocent-looking as he slept in the backseat. Of course, if he were awake…

She stilled as she felt something at her wrist. A faint touch, a tug at the knot. He was awake. Oh God, he was awake. She felt her breathing hitch in her chest at the fear he must be feeling.

But he was working the knot free, slowly, his fingers quick and sure. They weren’t trembling like hers. And hers were trembling. She was shaking like a leaf. And behind her, a nine-year-old baby was working the knot loose on her bonds.

“You’re such a dumb little twit, Tamber,” Scheme announced, feigning amusement. “John is going to chew you up and spit you out, you know that, right?”

Tamber’s fist flew out, connecting with Scheme’s jaw, knocking her sideways into the jeep as a mini growl erupted from the backseat and David Lyons pounced.

Tamber wasn’t expecting the attack. She cursed as her hands jerked on the wheel, throwing the jeep against the sharp incline that ran alongside the road. The jeep tilted, wheels spinning as Tamber’s hand flew back and connected with the face of the child locked onto her neck.

A hiss of pain sounded from the little boy, but he didn’t let go. The jeep tilted again as Scheme fought to get to the wheel to right the vehicle. Tamber had her hands full with a miniature Lion Breed hybrid that seemed to be everywhere at once.

And cursing. Scheme hoped she lived to laugh about the less than childish language he was using. But it wasn’t looking good. Oh God, it wasn’t looking good at all. The jeep was tilting, pitching.