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"Should I be?" Brock meant to correct the reference about Jenna being his, but he was too busy dealing with the blood that had suddenly gone a bit cold in his veins. "Is she okay? Tell me what's going on. Did anything happen to her while I was out on patrol?"
"I am not aware of any physical issues with the human," Hunter said, maddening in his calm. "I was referring to her inquiry into TerraGlobal."
"TerraGlobal," Brock repeated, dread sitting in his gut. "That's one of Dragos's holdings."
"Correct."
"Jesus Christ," Brock murmured. "You're saying she contacted them somehow?"
Hunter gave a faint shake of his head. "She sent an email to someone she knows in Alaska--a federal agent, who ran a data search for her on TerraGlobal. An FBI unit in New York City responded to the inquiry. They are aware of TerraGlobal, and have agreed to meet with her to discuss their current investigation."
"Holy hell. Tell me you're joking."
There was no humor in the other male's face, not that Brock was surprised at that. "I understand the meeting is already set for later today in the FBI's New York offices. Lucan has arranged to have Renata accompany her."
The more he heard, the more Brock started feeling twitchy and needing to move. He walked back and forth, not even attempting to cover his concern. "Who will Jenna be meeting with in New York? Do we even know if this FBI investigation into TerraGlobal is legit? Good God, what the fuck was she thinking, getting involved in this shit in the first place? You know what--never mind. I'll go ask her that myself."
He was already pacing the room, so it only took a couple of hard strides to carry him out of the apartment and into the corridor outside. With his pulse jackhammering, adrenaline pouring into his veins, he was in no frame of mind to find himself face-to-face with his errant patrol partner.
Chase came stalking up the stretch of hallway at precisely that moment, looking like complete hell. His blue eyes were still shooting sparks of amber, pupils more slits than circles. He was breathing hard, each pull of air dragging through his teeth and fangs. Grime and dried blood caked his face in lurid streaks, still more of it caught in his short blond hair. His clothing was torn in places, stained with God knew what.
He looked and smelled like he'd been through a goddamn war zone.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Brock demanded. "I looked all over Boston for you after you ran off tonight."
Chase glared at him, baring his teeth in a feral sneer, but didn't offer any kind of explanation. He brushed past, letting his shoulder hit Brock and all but daring him to make an issue out of it. If Brock hadn't been so concerned about Jenna and the trouble she'd apparently stirred up, he would have taken the arrogant son of a bitch down.
"Asshole," Brock growled after him as the former Agent swaggered away in stony, secretive silence.
Jenna came up off the sofa in an anxious hop when a hard rap sounded on the door to her quarters. It was early in the morning, just a little after six A.M. according to the clock on the stereo system playing softly across the living room. Not that she'd slept in the handful of hours since she'd spoken with Lucan and Gideon.
And not that she would be able to sleep in the time remaining between now and the important meeting she would be having later that day with the FBI field agent in New York.
Special Agent Phillip Cho had been pleasant enough on the phone when she'd called to speak to him, and she should be grateful that he was available and open to meeting with her about his investigation into TerraGlobal. This was hardly the first time she'd had an audience with the federal end of law enforcement, so she wasn't sure where her jittery nerves were coming from. Of course, she'd never had so much riding on a simple information-gathering meeting before.
She wanted to get this one right, and couldn't help feeling the weight of the world--both hers and the Order's--sitting on her shoulders. She hadn't been a cop for so long, and now she had to put on a command performance in just a few short hours. So, maybe it was only reasonable that she'd feel a bit on edge about the whole thing.
The knock at the door came again, sharper now, more demanding.
"Just a second."
She clicked the mute button on the stereo remote, silencing an old Bessie Smith jazz CD that had been queued in the deck when she turned the unit on a while ago to help kill time. She crossed the room and opened the door.
Brock waited in the corridor outside, taking her completely by surprise. He must have just come in recently from his patrol of the city.
Dressed head to toe in black combat gear, his fitted crewneck T-shirt clung to his broad chest and shoulders, short sleeves straining around the thick width of his biceps.
She couldn't keep her gaze from wandering the length of him, down past his tight abs, accentuated by the crisp tuck of his shirt into the belted waistband of his black fatigues, which were loose fitting, yet not so much that they masked the trim cut of his hips or the powerful bulk of his thighs. It was far too effortless to recall how well she knew that body. Far too troubling to realize just how much she craved him, even after she'd promised herself she wouldn't travel down that road with him again.
It wasn't until she dragged her gaze back up to his handsome but tense face that she realized he was upset. As in pissed off something fierce.
She frowned up into his stormy gaze. "What's going on?"
"Why don't you tell me." He took a step forward, his big body like a moving wall, forcing her to back into the room ahead of him. "I just heard about your inquiry into TerraGlobal with the goddamned FBI. What the hell were you thinking, Jenna?"
"I was thinking that maybe the Order could use my help," she replied, her own anger spiking at his confrontational tone. "I thought I would tap some of my law enforcement connections to shed some light onto TerraGlobal, since the rest of you had hit a dead end."
"Dragos is TerraGlobal," he hissed, still advancing on her, towering over her. His dark brown eyes crackled with tiny flecks of amber light. "Do you have any damn idea how risky it was for you to do that?"
