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She pivoted and raced back to the front door. It was locked now. She struggled with the latch, but it wouldn't budge no matter how hard she tried. "Damn it!"
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Danika wheeled around on a gasp.
It was him.
Not Reiver, but his menacing bodyguard with the mane of shaggy brown hair and the savagely scarred face. Gone was the dark suit and weaponry. Now he stood before her in nothing but loose jeans and bare feet, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. It jolted her, seeing his naked, muscled chest and strong arms. Breed dermaglyphs tracked across his torso and over his bulky shoulders in swirling arcs and flourishes. As he moved toward her, the color of those genetic skin markings deepened from the golden tone of his flesh to dark shades that broadcast his displeasure.
His overlong hair drooped low into his eyes, but she didn't need to see his narrowed gaze to know that it was fixed on her in growing, dangerous anger. She glanced away from him, throwing an anxious look at the locked door behind her.
"You don't belong here, lass."
Maybe it was the fact that he was out of her line of sight in that moment, but when he spoke just then-when he called her lass-she realized she knew that gravel-and-velvet voice. She'd heard it in her head at the party, when he'd sent a chiding thought her way for eavesdropping on Reiver. Yet he hadn't outed her to him when he had every chance to do so.
And there was something else familiar about him, she realized now.
Something that spoke to her from a distant yet undeniable place.
She looked at him again, trying to see past the bearded jaw and battle-scarred face that hid behind the thick fall of his hair. "Do I know you?"
"No."
His curt answer should have been enough to convince her. Instead it only made her study him more. She stared at him, trying to make sense of what her instincts were telling her. "Mal ... ?"
The hard line of his mouth pressed flat, unreadable. "My name is Brannoc.">If Reiver wanted problems to go away, they tended to disappear quickly. True to the origins of his name, he had long grown accustomed to taking whatever he wanted. No one refused him anything, and no one dared stand in his way. When fat bribes and illicit favors didn't suffice, Reiver had no qualms about resorting to less civilized tactics to ensure his interests were protected.
What might Reiver do if he suspected that his private discussion this evening had been overheard by the Breedmate with a longtime connection to the Order?
It wasn't a stretch to imagine. Bad enough that she'd dented his ego and topped it off with a physical insult in the middle of a crowded ballroom. If Reiver worried that she might know details of his current business dealings, Bran hated to think how his employer would go about securing her silence.
Bran despised the son of a bitch. He felt that contempt simmer through his veins and boil into his vision with amber fire as he watched Reiver come out of the mansion and make his way toward the waiting vehicle. It took some effort to tamp down hid ntamp dos hatred and school his features into a mask of professional calm before the other Breed male reached the car and opened the back passenger door.
He slid into the backseat, slamming the door behind him. "That uppity bitch better hope our paths never cross again. Be a shame to ruin such a pretty face, but damn if she's not begging for some hard discipline."
Bran grunted, his eyes narrowed on Reiver in the rearview. "Where to, boss?"
"The club," he snarled. But then the mansion's front door opened and out came the tall blonde and the mated couple who'd come to her defense inside. As they headed for the sea of luxury vehicles parked along the wide driveway, Reiver's seething gaze followed her. "Yes, that's a female in need of a firm hand. Among other things."
Reiver chuckled darkly and Bran's hands tightened to a death grip on the wheel. It was all he could do to resist the urge to reach behind him and smash the other male's face into the bulletproof glass of the back window.
But he had to play it cool.
He hadn't come this far, worked this hard to win Reiver's trust, only to lose it now.
As Bran stepped on the gas and the Rolls eased into motion, Reiver settled back against the leather seat. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a haughty female. Even less ones who don't know their place." Demanding eyes met Bran's gaze in the mirror. "I want you to find out all you can about that widow of the Order. Report back to me on everything you discover."
Bran gave an obedient nod, then went back to studying the night road ahead.
He already knew plenty about the woman.
But that was a long time ago-centuries, in fact. Back in a different time, when he was a different man.
And before the beautiful Danish Breedmate had given her heart to his best friend, Conlan of the clan MacConn.
Chapter Two
Danika hadn't gone to the party looking to make new friends, but she surely hadn't expected to have a one-on-one clash with the Breed's most feared crime boss in Edinburgh.
