“Kitten,” Trey breathes, causing shivers of pleasure to flow through me at the endearment.
Finding his lips with my own, I breathe against them, “Honey,” before kissing him deeply and with a passion I didn’t know could exist. I try to savor every moment of this kiss, only to groan as Trey pulls away from me, letting go of me completely.
“Trey” I say his name softly, as footsteps sound on the gravel. Regent police burst forward near the fountain, training their guns on us.
Breathing hard, Trey says, “Lower your weapons. We were the targets.”
CHAPTER 16
TELL THE TRUTH
Splashing out of the fountain, Trey turns back to me, extending his hand and helping me out of the water. He picks me up off my feet and carries me toward the palace. The police fall in step beside us. I rest my cheek against his chest, relieved that I don’t have to try to walk on my shaky legs.
Trey glares at the men near him, barking out orders, “I want to know where every piece of the squelch tracker was manufactured. I want to know where it was likely launched—check its heat signature. I want new rooms for Kricket in a private area that will be occupied by me and several soldiers of my choosing.”
“You want her moved from the west arcade?” Ustus asks, appearing next to us. Looking at me, his face loses color, seeing that I’m soaking wet. “What happened?”
“Squelch tracker,” Trey growls while glaring at Ustus. “How did it get in through your security?”
“Stealthily,” Ustus replies, and his sarcasm causes Trey’s scowl to deepen. Seeing it, Ustus quickly amends, “I don’t know.”
“Find out and look for more,” Trey says through clenched teeth. “Where am I going?”
Ustus thinks about it for a second, and then he smiles. “There’s the gaming lodge, on the far side of the property. You’ll need to take a skiff to get there—I’ll also need to clear it with the Regent.”
“Fine. Send me Wayra, Jax, and someone to drive us there while you clear it with the Regent.” In minutes, Wayra and Jax round the corner, looking angry.
“Sir, what happened?” Jax asks while Wayra stares down everyone in our vicinity.
“I’ll brief you later. We’re taking up new quarters. I need you to secure them. Let’s go.” We follow the Regent agent who directs us to a skiff on the drive outside.
Trey opens the door and places me in the back seat, squeezing in next to me and putting his arm around my shoulders. Wayra sits up front with the driver while Jax faces us. No one speaks on the slow, winding drive, but Jax is taking in every dripping inch of us, trying to assess the situation. Pulling up in front of a dark, imposing mansion, which looks like an estate all by itself, I shiver, feeling cold and damp.
The place is beautiful, made of stone with a cedar shingle roof; it’s a true, historic hunting lodge. Trey exits the skiff, extending his hand to me and helping me out. He doesn’t drop my hand, but holds on to it as he leads me to the doors. Entering the mansion, Trey says loudly, “Illuminate hall, security—report respiration.”
A fem-bot voice responds, “There are four Etharians present.”
“Map voice recognition Trey Allairis.”
“Greetings, Trey Allairis,” the robotic voice responds.
“Kricket, say your name,” Trey instructs. When I do, the robot repeats her greeting to me. Jax and Wayra do the same.
Trey orders, “Wayra, go room by room and do a sweep.”
“Yes, Sir,” Wayra responds, pulling a chrome weapon that looks like a handgun from a holster under his pant leg and walking into the next room.
“Climate control to forty-two draks, ignite fire. Jax, find a blanket for Kricket,” Trey says, leading me to the massive stone fireplace on the other side of the room. A fire has sparked and is now popping and crackling in the grate. The boom of a firecracker in the distance sounds, causing Trey to frown at Jax.
Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, Jax says grimly, “I think they just found another squelch tracker. They should question that knob knocker, Kyon.”
Trey shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t him. He wants Kricket alive.”
I feel myself pale. “So, that thing was meant specifically for me?” I ask. “Like a smart bomb or something?”
“Yes,” Trey responds. “They’re programmed to track a specific target for a surgical strike.”
“How does it recognize its target?”
“Voice, optical, heat signature, heartbeat—depends on how it was programmed,” Jax explains. “Someone wanted you to have a very bad night.”
“Makes me feel so warm and cozy inside,” I reply with a fake smile.
“You should be a Cavar, Kricket,” Jax smiles admiringly.
Wayra enters the room, nodding to Trey before saying through his teeth, “I say we line up every one of those Regent police and interrogate them one by one. Someone knows something! Did you just hear another one go off?” he rages, pointing toward the window.
“We heard,” Trey states in a calmer tone. He strips off his damp jacket and shirt, laying them neatly across a chair to dry. The firelight makes his wet skin gleam; it flickers over his muscled abdomen like a lover’s tongue. Suddenly, warmth spreads inside of me as I imagine how his skin would taste if I was to do the same.
I shiver with a renewed awareness of him. His black, scrolling military tattoos do nothing to hide the deep vee of his hip bones above his waistband. My eyes travel back again to his powerful upper arms. Even if I was to wrap both of my hands around one of them, his biceps are so big that my fingers would never meet. He’d used those arms tonight to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder as we ran from the squelch tracker sent to kill me. It could’ve torn him apart as well, but he’d done it anyway.
A deeper desire flares in me when I glance at his face and see that he’s assessing me in quite the same way. Trey’s violet eyes darken as they rove over my wet dress; the scarlet fabric clings to my breasts and my other curves like a second skin. My hair has fallen in loose, damp waves over my shoulders. I can still feel the place were he’d woven his fist into my hair at the base of my head and pulled me to him for an intoxicating kiss. I want him to kiss me like that again—like he needs me more than he needs to breathe.
Wayra clears his throat as he unbuttons his shirt and hands it to me. “It’s dry,” he says apologetically.
“Uh, thanks,” I murmur in a daze, taking the shirt from Wayra.
“There’s a commodus over there,” he says, indicating a door to the right.
I find the bathroom and quickly strip out of my wet dress. Pulling on Wayra’s long, formal shirt, it almost reaches my knees. I roll up the sleeves and drag my fingers through my damp hair before exiting the bathroom.
As I near the fireplace in the main room again, I pull the blanket closer, hearing the guys fall silent. Trey indicates that I should sit as he hands me a glass of water. I can tell by the look on his face that he notices my hand shaking when I grasp it. Sinking into the seat, I manage to say, “Thanks.”
“Wayra, contact Dylan. He’s the best at dissecting squelch debris,” Trey orders in a clipped tone. “I want him here before morning.”