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"No," she whispered. "I don't think you possibly can."
He caught her chin and lifted her face back up toward his. He kissed her parted, protesting lips. "I love you. Believe me when I say you are the only woman I want to love. I want your happiness. It means everything to me."
"Then you can't push me aside if there's a chance my child is only a few hours away from where we're standing now."
Hunter frowned, knowing he was losing this battle. Perhaps the first contest he'd ever surrendered.
As gently as he could, he reminded her, "Mira's visions are never wrong. If you come with me, and we do find your son, will you be able to forgive me?"
"If you truly love me, as I love you, then that should be strong enough to change the vision." She was calming now, and with her calm came the quieting of her talent. The busy road resumed its background whoosh and hum. Behind them on the shoulder, the box truck's engine idled with a rapid tick. She reached out to him tentatively, placing her palm over the center of his chest where his heart thudded heavily. "Maybe our love can break the vision."
"Maybe," he said, wishing he could believe it.
What he did believe was the fact that if he sent her away now, she would hate him regardless of what he found at the end of the GPS signal in Georgia. To send her away now would be to crush her hope and betray her trust once more.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Hunter took her hand in his. Together they walked back to the truck and whatever awaited them at the end of the road tonight.
The senator's holiday house party had been in full swing for two and a half hours and Chase was getting bored.
From his perch in the gloom of the second-floor gallery balcony, he watched the crowd of humans enjoying themselves in the grand ballroom below. Elegantly dressed people strolled and mingled, laughing and airkissing as they attempted to juggle drinks and hors d'oeuvres and a hundred pointless topics of conversation. In the background, the twelve-piece musical ensemble played an alternating selection of secular holiday tunes and upper-crusty classical pieces. Chase couldn't help but notice the burgundy-draped beauty who circled the fringes of the gathering like a mother hen looking after her chicks. Ms. Fairchild made a point of searching out the most hopeless of the wallflowers, engaging them with a smile and a few minutes of what appeared to be genuinely attentive conversation. She made introductions, dragging her socially inept charges into larger groups and standing by until they had found their footing before she moved on to the next one.
He'd guessed based on her businesslike demeanor that she worked for Senator Clarence, but looking at the attractive young woman, Chase found himself wondering if the job description for the bachelor politician had extended beyond party planning and social direction. Maybe the chin-high collar and brusque attitude were just a front. She didn't seem all that chilly now. Maybe she was as hot as her form-fitting gown.
Yeah, and maybe he was losing it, sitting up here in the belfry like Quasimodo when he had more interesting things to do back in the city.
The cold knot of hunger in his gut agreed.
Chase stared down impatiently, spotting the golden boy senator making the rounds with his guests. He was smooth. A consummate professional, pumping hands, kissing wrinkled oldlady cheeks, posing for photographs along the way. It wasn't hard to imagine his charm and polish sweeping him quickly into a higher office. No doubt Dragos had noticed the same thing about him, though Chase shuddered to think what it might mean if the Order's chief adversary started turning his sights on human government figures.
Down below the gallery, there was a sudden hubbub of activity. Two Secret Service agents entered the house through the grand front foyer. Three more opened the dark cherry double doors and held them wide for the party's VIP guest to come inside, another pair of agents bringing up the rear.
Chase had already guessed who the new arrival would be, but it still made his pulse kick with a sharp pang of dread - of dark expectation - as Senator Clarence moved into position to greet the arriving vice president. Applause went up from the other guests as the two men grinned and did the one-armed man hug before moving on to begin the requisite meet-and-greet with the rest of the avid crowd.
Chase noticed he had company coming upstairs, extra security precaution, now that the country's second highest in command was in the building. The armed agent took his position on the other end of the gallery and reported his readiness into the mic clipped to the lapel of his black suit. Chase drew back from the edge of the balcony and melted into the gloom of the hall. As he inched away, he thought he caught a glimpse of a face he recognized all too well. A face that most certainly did not belong among a gathering of humans. The Secret Service agent was parked right out in the open at the other end of the gallery, his big head taking in the surroundings, shrewd eyes trained to spot anything out of line. But he didn't sense the danger that Chase did. He couldn't know that one of the men standing among the other partygoers was no man at all.
Chase bent the shadows around him, gathering them close as he crept toward the railing to steal another glance.
Goddamn, he thought, confirming the worst scenario.
It was Dragos down there.
Like a bee in the midst of a buzzing hive, the vice president made his way with the senator through the excited crowd. All too soon, they paused in front of Dragos. The three of them spoke for a moment, trading chuckles and clasping hands before they began to head off together toward a private room adjacent to the full-to-bursting ballroom. Fuck.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
Chase knew he couldn't let Dragos go anywhere alone with either one of these important men. He could not let that happen.
Indecision raked him as he struggled to hold his talent in place, his gaze fixed on Dragos's slightest move. Every Breed cell in his body urged him to leap over the balcony and attack - kill the bastard in cold blood, before he even knew what hit him. But to do that would be to expose himself publicly as something other than human. If it were only he that he had to be concerned with, he wouldn't care. But the ramifications of showing himself as part of the Breed were irreversible, and too far-reaching.
Maybe he could create a distraction, something to cause momentary panic. Something to make the vice president's guards rush him away from the party and from whatever plot Dragos was hatching as he grinned alongside him.
Chase felt his talent slip as he grappled with what course of action to take. The shadows fell away, like mist through his fingers, leaving him standing there unconcealed.
In that very instant, Ms. Fairchild looked up and spotted him. She motioned one of the men in black over and pointed up toward Chase. The agent spoke into his comm device and several others poured in from all directions.
