Taming the Lion Page 19

  Lila nudged her with her shoulder, reaching over to lace their fingers together. “You aren’t alone, Patch. No matter what happens. You aren’t alone.”

  Patch held onto her best friend. Never alone. But being alone wasn’t half as terrifying as being happy.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Roman draped his forearms over a fence rail and watched as the dust from the incursion team’s tires settled. They’d be gone for a week, there and back. Driving partway and then approaching the facility itself on foot since the Organization had centered their security efforts on the approaching roadways rather than the mountains at their back.

  Every detail had been planned. Nothing left to chance.

  And nothing left for him to do but wait.

  He fucking hated waiting.

  He didn’t belong here. He belonged there. With them. He didn’t want to be the sort of leader who asked his people to take risks he wasn’t willing to take. But he’d bowed to the Alpha’s edict. He was obeying Greg in this, no matter how it grated—because there was a chance the Alpha was right, and he wanted to save his defiance for the issues that mattered.

  Roman pushed off the fence and stalked to the bunker. Maybe Mateo had decrypted more information. If Roman couldn’t help on the mission, he’d damn well do all he could to help here.

  He made his way into Mateo’s inner sanctum, a room dominated by screens and blinking lights. Usually Mateo could be found bent over one of the many keyboards, but the leopard was conspicuously absent, though his scent saturated the room.

  Roman started to go—he’d have to find some other way to be useful—when he heard an indrawn breath. Turning back, there was Mateo.

  He sat on the floor in a shadowy corner, half-hidden beneath a desk, not looking at Roman, not looking at anything really, staring into dead air.

  “Mateo?”

  The leopard’s head snapped up then. “Roman. I didn’t see you there.” He wiped his face and scrambled to his feet, though whatever had brought him to the floor continued to hang over him in a dark fog. “What can I do for you?”

  Roman stepped fully into the room, softly shutting the door behind him. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” he said, though neither of them came close to believing him. “I cracked Hard Drive Three.” He scrambled to his desk, waking up the computers with a jiggled mouse.

  The Alpha had prioritized the hard drives—One for the locations and schematics, Two for the financials, and Three for the shifter database. Hard Drive Three—the database. The dossiers.

  The pieces fell into place. “Your sister.”

  Mateo looked up, startled. “I didn’t know you knew about her.”

  “I try to know everyone in the pride. Is she…?”

  “Dead, turns out,” Mateo said, fast and harsh, then expelled a shaking breath. “Five months ago.” He turned back to the monitors, surreptitiously rubbing at his cheeks again. When he spoke again, it was with such determined focus that Roman knew better than to offer sympathy. “Hard Drive Two is a lost cause. Too much water damage. I doubt we’ll ever be able to recover a single account detail, but Three was reasonably intact. It was just a question of getting through the encryption. Some of the files have an extra layer of security and I’m still working at accessing those, but for the most part we’re in. We know what they know about us now.” He waved to a printer that whirred continuously in the corner. “The Alpha wanted a hard copy. As soon as that finishes printing it’ll go to him so you guys can start warning people—though it looks like most of the shifters they know about, they’ve captured. Or hunted. Seems like they aren’t big on catch and release or observing us in the wild.”

  “Can you search the database? Look up a specific record?”

  “Of course. Who do you want?”

  His first thought was of the hawk—to check up on the background of their guide, their Sacagawea. But these hard drives had come from the hawk. If he was a plant, he would have covered his tracks here. There was nothing more Roman could do to help the incursion team.

  “Fontaine.”

  “Patch’s parents.” Mateo nodded without looking up, his fingers already clacking rapidly over the keys.

  The records popped up—as simple as that. As if they hadn’t hidden their contents from the most determined and skilled hackers in the pride for over a week.

  Roman read quickly, his mouth going dry. “Her father—”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you print this?”

  Mateo jerked his head toward a less industrial strength printer next to the door, already humming to life. “Grab it from that printer. And Roman? Tell her I’m sorry.”

  “I will.” Roman gripped Mateo’s shoulder, trying to impress through his fingers all his regret over Mateo’s loss.

  They needed to stop this Organization. To make sure no more shifters were ever taken. One way or another.

  She’d expected him to come for her days ago. Yes, she’d broken it off with him and yes, it was better if they just stayed away from one another, and sure, he was probably busy wooing a new lioness, but she hadn’t expected him to just leave it like that.

  So when Roman strode into the dining hall—which had become a sort of impromptu orientation center for new shifters—and stalked toward her without glancing left or right, her heart stutter-stepped and a flood of emotions that were far too mixed for comfort washed through her.

  He had a sheaf of rolled papers in one hand. She half-expected him to take her by the arm and drag her off as he’d done so many other times, but he drew to a stop in front of her, gazing down at her with eyes both wary and hungry. And the hell of it was, she was probably looking at him exactly the same way.

  Conversation around them died an unmourned death—curious cats falling silent and watching without subtlety or shame as soon as they recognized the Alpha’s heir.

  “Patch,” he said when the silence threatened to become conspicuous. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  She should say no. As far as the pride knew, he was still Lila’s. And he needed to marry a lioness. And she’d told herself she wasn’t going to be moved by anything he said. They were over. It was decided.

  But God, she missed him.

  So she nodded and when he gestured toward the side door, she led the way.

  She expected him to stop in the shadows along the side of the building, where he’d brought her before, but this time as soon as they were outside, he caught her hand and led her away from the main compound to his bungalow.

  The one Whiskey had said he never brought anyone to. Where they would be completely alone.

  “Roman.” She tugged at the hand that held her wrist—though she didn’t put much effort behind it. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I’m not going to attack you. I just want to be alone for this conversation.”

  What conversation? What could they possibly have left to say to one another that would make any difference?

  When they got to his bungalow, he released her wrist and she immediately put distance between them. He didn’t seem to notice her caution, preoccupied with shutting the door and fidgeting with the papers in his hands.

  She tried to think of something she could say to cut him off. Something to make sure this conversation never happened, because now that she was here, she wasn’t sure how strong her resolve was really going to be.

  “These are for you,” he said abruptly, thrusting the papers at her. “Mateo cracked the last hard drive.”

  Her breath whooshed out of her like she’d been gut punched. All the things she’d been braced for, that wasn’t one of them. Her gaze locked greedily on the papers he held out, but she couldn’t seem to make her hands reach for them. “My parents?” she croaked. Was that her voice?

  “This is everything they have on your family.”

  Her heartbeat was suddenly clumsy, tripping over itself in jagged fits and starts.

  The hand holding the paper
s wavered. “Do you want me to read them to y—”

  “No,” she blurted, cutting him off. “No, I’ve got it.” Her hand lashed out, snatching the papers from his grip so quickly the edges tore.

  She barely heard his muttered apology. She was busy trying to make her eyes focus on the print that blurred on the page. She swiped irritably at her eyes, but it wasn’t tears. It was strain.

  “They protected you,” Roman said softly—and it was like his words were permission to see. Suddenly the jumbled lines on the page made sense, sharpening into words and sentences.

  The file was her father’s. It included an account of his capture, his family. The Organization had struck at lunch, sweeping in with overwhelming numbers in a surprise attack. They’d expected to find three—mother, father and child. Shifter children were homeschooled, according to their research, because shifter children were incapable of controlling their shifting until they reached adolescence, but the child had been missing. They’d inquired about the absence of the child and the parents had explained that she was dead. Killed in an altercation with a bear only a few weeks earlier. The child’s file had been marked accordingly—just an animal killed by another animal—and the parents had been acquired for testing.

  Acquired for testing. Patch’s stomach churned at the words. They had protected her. They had made sure the Organization would never come looking for her, because to them she was just another dead shifter. And she’d never gone looking for them.

  And there it was, in black and white, right at the top of her father’s file. Deceased.

  She didn’t remember her knees giving out or Roman’s arms coming around her. All she knew was they were sitting on the floor and he was holding her. She’d thought her father was dead for years, but that wasn’t the same as knowing. Thinking it was an ache in the gut. Knowing was a blow to the chest.

  Swiping away the dampness on her face, she flipped to the next file. Hers. Also deceased, according to the Organization. But there were surveillance pictures of herself with her parents in the forest where she’d been a child—in both human and cougar forms. How long had the Organization watched them before they struck? A few days? Weeks? Months?

  The last file was her mother’s. And the “Location” field, where both hers and her father’s files had shown Deceased, instead contained a series of letters and numbers.

  “What is this?” she choked out, pointing to the sequence.

  “They use those codes to identify their facilities.”

  Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears. “She’s still alive? They still have her somewhere? Where is she?”

  “We don’t have a key. We have a list of facilities, but we don’t know which ones are used for which purposes. There are over a hundred. I’m sorry, Patch. She could be anywhere.”

  “Or she could be at the one they’re going after now.” She shoved out of his arms, scrambling to her feet. “I have to go with them.”

  He stood as well, towering over her. “Out of the question.”

  “Roman, my mother could be there.”

  “And if she is, the others will bring her back.”

  His reasonable tone made her want to throw something at his head. “I’m going.” She had to do something. She couldn’t just wait here, not now that she knew her mother might be there. “When do we leave?”

  “They already left.”

  “What? What if they need help? What if there are more hostages than they expect and they have to leave some of them behind because they’re drugged or injured and you didn’t send enough people to carry them all to safety?”

  He caught her shoulders when she would have brushed past him, lowering his head until their foreheads almost touched. “That isn’t going to happen. We have contingencies on top of our contingencies. These are our best people. The closest thing we have to Special Forces. You would only be in the way.”

  “I would hang back, stay out of their way unless they needed—”

  “If your mother was there? You’d hang back and follow orders? We both know that’s bullshit. You’re too emotionally invested.”

  “We’re all too emotionally invested. You think Dominec will be a good boy if he has the chance to rip the face off the people who killed his family?”

  “Let Grace worry about Dominec.”

  “You sent her to babysit him?”

  “And tranq him if he looks like he’s going off the rails. He at least has training we can use. You would be a liability with no advantages attached.”

  “They’re hiking in. I know mountaineering better than anyone.”

  “No, Patch.”

  She shook her head, barely listening. “I need to be there.”

  “I said no.”

  At his roar, her spine instinctively arched and she bowed her head, tucking in on herself defensively.

  His expression instantly softened. “Shit, Patch, I’m sorry. It’s just out of the question, okay? Neither of us get to go.”

  She took a step back and he released her, his hands falling away from her shoulders reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”

  “God, don’t do that,” he groaned. “Don’t call me sir. I get enough of that shit from the rest of the pride. Sir, boss.”

  “I guess that’s the price of always getting your way.”

  “You think I’m getting my way?” he growled. “You think that’s what being the Alpha is going to be all about? Making demands and being dictator of the pride?”

  “No.” Her anger retreated in the face of his and she turned away from him with a sigh. “I know that isn’t who you are.” He was the one who did the right thing. Who made sacrifices for the pride. Pride first. “I just want to be there.”

  “So do I.”

  This time when he reached for her, she let him slide his arms around her, fitting her back to his front. He was so much bigger than she was, his warmth seemed to wrap around her, so unbearably comforting. Unbearable because it couldn’t last. But she didn’t pull away. She sank against him, closing her eyes. Just a few minutes. She’d let him hold her and then she’d walk away.

  His cheek rested on top of her head. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  She didn’t want to talk about that. Anything but that. “Does it really bother you when people call you sir?”

  He was silent for a moment, but he took the hint. “It seems very distant. Lila is beloved. I’m…”

  “Respected? Admired?”

  She felt his shrug against her back. “I’m not one of them.”

  “That’s because you’re not comfortable with them. Maybe if you tried removing that stick you have up your ass—”

  “Hey.” His arms squeezed warningly. “We can’t all be Lila. That was what she was supposed to bring to the table. The social game.”

  “So you need someone sociable. Like Holly.”

  His arms tightened again and she felt his breath in her hair. “I’m not comfortable around Holly. For that matter, I wasn’t comfortable around Lila. The only one I’m comfortable with is you.”

  “Roman…”

  “Why can’t it be you, Patch? You could be my bridge to the pride. If you were with me, I could be one of them.”

  “I’m not a lion.”

  “Neither are a third of the shifters in this pride—and the numbers are tilting more your direction every day. Let’s show them we really mean it when we say we accept all shifters into our pride. Fully accept.”

  “Will the lions fully accept that?”

  “Only one way to find out.” His breath stirred the air behind her ear, then his lips brushed so gently against her neck.

  “I thought it was pride first,” she protested, though her arguments were growing as breathless and weak at the knees as she was.

  “I love this pride,” he said against her skin. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t also love—”

  “Roman, don’t.” She spoke fast, desperate not to hear him say that. She twisted, pushing against him until she got some dis
tance, but his hands followed her. He wouldn’t completely let her go.

  “Maybe it’s because I love the pride that I want this. Did you consider that?” he challenged, still tangling her attempts to escape with his arms. “The pride is diverse and we need to represent that diversity at all levels—especially the top. I want to lead by example, lead from the front, not from some house isolated up on a hill. And I want you.”

  “Do you know why he’s up on that hill? Because it’s a position of power. Because lions see weakness as an invitation to challenge for control.” And they would challenge Roman, over and over and over again until someone succeeded in killing him. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “Then maybe I’m not the right person to lead the pride.”

  “So what then? The Alpha chooses someone else to lead who isn’t strong enough to hold the pride? Who hasn’t mentored with him for a dozen years? Who doesn’t know these people and care about them the way I know you do? You want him to change successors now, to upset the balance, and compromise everything that has made me feel safe for the last fifteen years? Let it all go up in smoke just so we can be together. You want that?”

  She succeeded in escaping his arms then and he dropped his hands, the gap between them widening as she backed quickly toward the door.

  “It wouldn’t have to be like that,” he protested.

  “I’m sorry, Roman.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “It was fun.” Fun. Tears pricked her eyes at the awful, completely inadequate word. “But it’s over.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Patch ran through the paths at the heart of the pride compound, not caring who saw her, just needing to get as much distance as possible from Roman as quickly as possible. If she looked back, if she went back, she knew she’d never be strong enough to leave his arms again. So this had to be it. For both of their sakes.

  She couldn’t stay here at Lone Pine.

  The realization sent an ache of absolute regret shuddering through her soul, but she knew it was the truth. He’d meant it. That love thing she hadn’t let him say aloud and everything else he had said. He would put his future at risk, give it all up for her and she couldn’t let that happen. He was meant to be Alpha. The best damn Alpha the pride had ever had. Maybe he would make it more equal for non-lions. Maybe this place that had always been a sanctuary would become more than that with him at the helm. She couldn’t threaten that just because she…