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Words and actions, however, could be contradictory, depending on circumstances. Despite his deep-seated belief in her as his mate, she could be a plant from a competitor, even considering her efforts to prove herself in his war against stolen blood.
He considered letting her in on everything—how many of the abused and freed blood farm captives willingly supplied all his product for his smuggling operation. The number of units he could offer outside of the strict taxes enforced by the King’s Blood Authority only grew with the more victims he saved. More profits meant more innocents could be rescued. Though most of the clan would disagree, eradicating the large-scale exploitation of humans and HPs could only strengthen their position at the North American Council.
Though her expertise might help him with better security at his storage sites, he held back. Best to compartmentalize until certain he could trust her. He’d offered enough vulnerable vein for now.
Speaking of vein… Best to have all his people at peak ability. “There’s a cooler behind my seat if you are hungry.” His product bore virtually undetectable bogus KBA tax seals, indicating they were obtained legally. She wouldn’t suspect otherwise.
“Thank you. I ate earlier and brought my own.” She patted her backpack.
He eyed the case, amused. Though the guns and knives were probably on her, but in the bag she’d have the sniper rifle, extra ammo, and now extra blood? “Is that thing a Bottomless Bag?”
“A bottomless—? Oh. No. I’ve heard those spells are expensive, but worth the gold. I’d want the add-on spell to lighten the load. If you’re going to cram everything including the kitchen sink into the equivalent of a fanny pack, it’d be nice if you didn’t need that cave troll to carry the load for you. I modified this pack, making every inch count.”
By her smug tone, she might as well have a troll concealed within.
Maybe they’d need one if Jenkins lived up to his hype.
Then again, though packaged in a gorgeous form, possibly Caro brought him the same powerful advantage.
CHAPTER11
Nerves skimmed up and down her spine while Ryn drove, though unlike both human and vampire operations in the past, the shivers contained a sexual tension. She’d tried to ignore the hot liquid sensation this demon created in her bones. In her prior life, ignoring emotions—hate, sadness, desire—could be as deadly as discarding facts.
Life in Clan Sanguis was no different.
He’d invited her on this operation as a test, of that Caro had no doubt, like the last three nights. She had years of experience in tradecraft and understood she had to start small. From what little she’d learned from her teammates, they all had a high level of respect for their leader. Despite her subtle probing, no one used his name or surname—or maybe ‘Ryn’ was his surname, though she’d never heard of that demon family in North America—and no one spoke about his past or his present. Not one of the twenty or so vampires, demons, mages, or HPs she’d met gave her any information beyond the fact he dedicated himself to the mission of saving humans from abuse. The discipline impressed her. Usually, one would be a point of compromise. Assuming they knew more, of course. Possibly, he kept his real identity a secret to everyone.
Smart.
She sensed the demon’s mission went far beyond simply taking out predatory bloodsuckers. But he held back, and she admired that as well. Best not to trust her until she proved her worth. Even then… She shook off the times she’d had to eliminate a double agent.
She had trust issues too.
Which is why the way she seemed to want to melt into Ryn surprised her.
The truth? She shouldn’t be here if waking up the last three nights hot and ready for him was any indication. Sex ruined a working relationship. She’d seen too many missions fail when two people couldn’t keep their minds on the objective.
Hopefully, he’d be the type to slurp while feeding or fart or leave dirty clothes on the floor, all things which she couldn’t stand. Though she wouldn’t discover those details without spending time with the demon, the effort might be worth the day or two she’d take to learn his disgusting personal habits.
His scent drifted to her, a woodsy, smoky musk, one seemingly of him rather than applied, and she fought the desire to inhale lungfuls.Down, girl. Look for the bad habits, remember?
Yet no matter how much she focused on anything else, like the scenery outside or running through her backpack’s inventory, at least one portion of her brain recognized his essence and reveled in it. More diversion. “You never told me what the op is for tonight?”
“We’re taking out a farm.”
Her mouth dried. She’d been waiting on a report of another smuggler or the actual headquarters of the big blood-smuggling fish from her contact with Hebert Security. Maybe she’d be on the front end of that one. She’d gleaned one name from a demon-exclusive internet forum before someone quickly deleted the post. She’d fed the info to the intel analyst. Maybe she’d sent Cheese on a wild goose chase, or they’d hit the same target tonight. Even if the op made the report moot, saving lives now was better than letting them suffer for longer than necessary. She’d feel good kicking some Sanguis ass.
“Gone awful quiet over there.”
She surfaced from her thoughts and addressed the question lurking in Ryn’s tone. “Excited to be asked to partake. Who owns the farm?”
“A fae gangster by the name of Griffith Jenkins.”
Not Sanguis ass then. Too bad. However, a bad guy was a bad guy. “How’d he end up here after breaking out of NAC’s prison?”
Ryn checked his side mirror then changed lanes. “He must’ve discovered the obscene amount of money to be made in the blood trade.”
Caro’s life then and now depended on information. After she’d been turned, she’d studied her new world, spending hours catching up on paranormal history throughThe Enchanted Rock Times, as well as both the North American Council’s and the University of Enchanted Rock’s on-line libraries. Sometimes, the smallest bit of information could be the difference between life and death. Mainly because he was such a sensational story, she’d become quite versed in Jenkins’s history. No one knew exactly what types of fae were in his genes, nor had he ever declared his ancestry. Twice he’d been able to escape sentences imposed by North American Council courts for everything from illegal spell use to kidnapping paranormal beings and attempted murder of NAC Security personnel. According to reports, he had a vast criminal enterprise which touched all clans, except for Sanguis.
