Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Perched on one of the stools around Jolene’s kitchen island, Devon felt her lips twitch as Khloë ranted about “dumbass, monkey-loving, goat-fucking, shit-for-brains incantors.” Sitting beside the imp, Raini nodded along, her amber eyes hard. Harper, who was on her way to Jolene’s house, had been just as pissed when Devon relayed the evening’s events over the phone. The four of them had been close friends since childhood, and they all worked together at the tattoo studio that Harper and Raini co-owned.

“Here.” Jolene set a steaming mug in front of Devon and then slid onto a stool, patting her perfectly styled updo. No matter whether she was relaxing at home or attending a meeting, Jolene always dressed in a smart blouse, chic skirt, and high heels, emitting an inborn grace and elegance. In her chest beat the heart of a fiercely protective lioness. A rather shrewd, vengeful lioness who proudly let her crazy flag fly and could start a riot at a monastery.

Devon cupped the hot mug with her hands. Steam wafted from the herbal tea and whispered over her face. “Have you heard from your sentinels yet?”

“Only to say that no one has showed at the cabin looking for you. But they will sooner or later.”

After dealing with the incantor, Devon had found her purse in the cabin’s den and used her cell phone to call a teleporter-friend from her lair, Ciaran. He’d not only teleported her to Jolene’s house, he’d then teleported Jolene’s sentinels and five members of her Force to the cabin. They were now all lying in wait for the broker’s men. They’d also searched the cabin and learned that the incantor had gone by the name of Elliot Maverick.

“My sentinels will make the bastards talk; we’ll find out who brokered the deal, and then we’ll discover who was behind the kidnapping.” Jolene’s eyes briefly bled to black, indicating that her inner demon was straining to surface and take control. The Prime might sound calm and composed, but she was no doubt far from it. Devon would bet that the woman was plotting all kinds of delightful ways to punish the fucker responsible.

The Prime didn’t possess a lot of scruples. But then, most imps didn’t, which was why their lair didn’t have the best reputation, and their “laws” were pretty simple. They went along the lines of “Thou shalt not kill without covering up the evidence” and “Thou shalt not steal, lie, or cheat unless thyself is confident thou will not get caught.”

Sipping her tea, Devon let her gaze drift around the room. Jolene kept it immaculately clean. There no sauce splatters on the wall tiles or backsplash. No dishes piled in the sink. No crumbs on the tiled floor or cup rings on the cherry wood counter.

Despite being so orderly, the room didn’t lack personality. Not with the keepsakes and framed photos that lined the shelves and the hand-drawn pictures that had been attached to the fridge by magnets. A great treasurer of memories, Jolene had mementos and framed photos in almost every room.

Taking the stool beside Devon, Jolene’s daughter, Martina, gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The astonishingly beautiful imp was just as batshit as her mother and seemed to find joy in setting things on fire. To each their own.

“Thank God Millicent put those protective wards on you,” Martina whispered. “Mom wasn’t so happy about it back then—the process is a painful one for all involved in the spell, and you were just a child. But I could understand why Millicent never wanted you to ever again be in a position where magick could trap you.”

Devon almost flinched as memories slapped her.

Her little fists pounding against the rear passenger window.

Sweat dripping down her temples.

Her mouth dry and sticky.

Her voice hoarse from shouting for help.

An infant’s cries and struggles.

Martina winced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. Sticking my foot in my mouth is sort of my thing, as you know. I just mean that—”

“Do you have any vodka, Martina?” asked Beck, Jolene’s anchor. “I think Devon needs something stronger than tea.”

The blonde tilted her head slightly. “I’m pretty sure we have some in the outside bar. Let me go check.” And then she was gone.

Devon gave Beck a too-quick smile. “Thanks.”

“My aunt means well,” said Khloë, idly tracing the scars on the wooden surface of the island. “She just doesn’t always think before she speaks.”

Raini raised a brow at the petite, olive-skinned imp. “Kind of like you?”

Khloë pursed her lips. “Kind of like me,” she agreed, unashamed. Yeah, well, Khloë didn’t really do shame. Or awkward. Or discreet. Or impulse-control. Or have any hesitation to say exactly what she was thinking.

A fist pounded on the front door.

“That’s probably Harper.” Raini pushed to her feet. “I’ll get it.” Her flip-flops slapped the hardwood floor as she strode out of the room, hips swaying. In her faded Harley-Davidson tank, scuffed blue jeans, and plain white flip-flops, the blonde wasn’t whatsoever dressed to impress. As a succubus, she didn’t need to put in any such effort; she naturally oozed sex.

Devon overheard Raini greeting, “Oh. Hey.” She sounded surprised, but not unwelcoming. “Devon’s in the kitchen.”

Moments later, Adam and Hunter rushed into the room, looking harried. Well, hell. She’d held off on calling Adam about what happened, wanting to wait until she had some answers. Clearly someone had called him.

The two males were very different but complemented each other well. Adam, a super talented hair stylist, was incredibly fashion-conscious and had an enviable dress sense. Hunter, a fabulous chef who was planning to start his own catering business, probably wouldn’t dress so stylishly if Adam didn’t go shopping for him so often.

Adam crossed straight to Devon and hugged her. “My girl.” He rocked her from side to side. “My poor baby girl.” His body vibrated with rage. “Why didn’t you call me? I shouldn’t have heard this from Beck.”

Devon shot the blabber a quelling look.

Beck shrugged. “If it was Jolene, I’d want to know what happened.”

Sighing, Devon looked at Adam. “I was waiting until I had some info to share. We have a lot of unanswered questions.” And she hadn’t wanted to send him into a blind panic.

Adam was like a close friend, big brother, and treasured confidant all rolled into one. He was always there for her, loyal and supportive and protective. Of course, he also pried into her private life and could be quite the meddler.

All anchors were possessive of one another, but it probably should have seemed odd that a gay male could be possessive of her, and vice versa. Their relationship … it was kind of like when you were close and purely platonic friends with an ex—you had no sexual interest in each other, but there was an emotional intimacy there that you didn’t get with an average friend. Which was kind of why demons were often jealous of the closeness their mate had to their anchor. Fortunately, Devon didn’t have that problem with Hunter.

Whenever she saw the couple together, she was struck by how well they suited. Her demon envied them that, just as it envied Harper and Knox. And Devon had to wonder if that was what had triggered the feline’s desire to find a mate of its own—something that spooked the shit out of her. It wanted that same devotion and connection. Wanted a family of its own, which could be a major freaking issue, since Devon had never gone into heat.

Most of her kind first went into heat in their late teens, and then did so three times a year from that point onwards. But here she was in her late twenties, and she’d still never experienced it. Which she could only take to mean that she was infertile—something that pained her every single day. But then, if it was meant to be some sort of punishment for what happened so long ago, it was kind of fitting.

She’d never told anyone about her suspicion that she was infertile, and she’d love to never have to. But if she met someone who she even considered taking as a mate, she’d have to tell them. Would she blame them if they then walked away? No. But it could certainly lead to her demon lunging for their throat.

For Devon to take someone as her mate, both she and her feline needed to accept him. Like every dark entity that lived within demons, her feline was incapable of love. It did, however, sometimes form attachments to people—and it never let them go.

“You look exhausted,” said Hunter, reaching around Adam to stroke her hair. Then he flicked her forehead hard.

“Ow.” Devon rubbed the spot to soothe the sting.

“You gave us a scare, Dev,” Hunter complained.

“Not on purpose.”

Adam released her. “Have you told your parents yet?”

“They’re out of town,” she reminded him. “I’ll wait until they get back.”

Devon had always felt that she had two moms—Pamela, who loved her but was unable to take care of her, and Gertie, who was Pamela’s older sibling. Both sisters were hellcats and had been very close as children, which might have been why Gertie hadn’t hesitated to take Devon in and raise her as her own.

Although Gertie and her mate, Russell—one of the most hilarious imps Devon had ever met—were biologically her aunt and uncle, they were her parents in every way that counted. They were currently celebrating their anniversary in New York, and Devon had no intention of spoiling their short trip.

A foot kicked open the back door and then Martina walked inside, holding a tray of small glasses. She placed it on the island. “Shots, anyone?”

The entire table seemed to descend on the tray.

Adam set his empty glass down. “What do we know about the incantor?”

“Maverick was a bounty hunter who often sold rare objects on the black market—particularly the bones, blood, eyes, or organs of certain demonic breeds,” said Jolene.

Recalling the many knives and blood stains at the cabin, Devon suspected he’d often taken a little something from each of the people he’d kidnapped. “Our best bet of finding out who’s after me is to get our hands on the broker. Jolene’s sentinels searched the cabin and looked through Maverick’s cell phone, but they didn’t find anything that could help identify the bastard. So far, no one has turned up at the cabin to retrieve me, which is a surprise. I had thought they’d have arrived by now.”

“I sent someone to find your car, Devon,” said Jolene. “I doubt it will be too far from where Maverick snatched you.”

Adam’s brow wrinkled. “Wouldn’t he have wanted to dispose of it to cover his tracks?”

“His priority will have been getting her to the cabin,” Jolene pointed out. “He probably left the car in the woods near the highway where she was taken, intending to go back and deal with it later.” She frowned as the doorbell rang three times in quick succession, as if someone was jabbing it hard with their finger.

“That has to be our Harper.” Martina’s heels click-clacked along the floor as she sashayed down the hallway. Moments later, she said, “Hi, Harper, it’s good to see you.”

“Where’s Devon?” the sphinx demanded.

“In the kitchen.”

Footsteps stamped along the hallway. Harper marched into the room, her face like thunder. “What in the fuckety fuck is wrong with the world? Tell me you know who’s responsible for this, Grams.”

“I wish I could,” Jolene told her.

Knox breezed into the kitchen and exchanged nods with everyone before giving Devon a speculative glance. “You look well for someone who had a run-in with an incantor.”

Devon shrugged. “He was instructed not to harm me.”

“But he did,” Harper ground out, staring at the angry marks on Devon’s wrists.

“Really, Harper, I’m fine,” Devon assured her.

The sphinx’s eyes flashed. “Do not use my own therapist tone on me, Clarke. How can you be fine? You were kidnapped and held captive.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Don’t be a smartass, this is serious.”

Devon opened her mouth to assure Harper that she was taking it very seriously, but then she stilled as a familiar scent drifted into the room. Her pulse spiked and her stomach twisted into knots. And then he was slowly prowling into the kitchen with a fluid, arrogant grace.

He always prowled. Broody. Watchful. Intense. Uber-hot.

All eyes immediately landed on him. Well, of course they did. Darkly sensual and deliciously ripped, Tanner Cole was built for sin, sex, and seduction. An apex predator that was dominant through and through—the trait seemed built into every cell, muscle, and bone.

He was all confidence and smolder and masculine power. Exuded a bold, audacious air that said, “I do what I like, I go after whatever I want, and I don’t give a hot shit if you approve or not.”

Behold, ladies and gentlemen, the elusive alpha male.

All six-feet-plus inches of him throbbed with a lethal, animalistic sexuality that could reduce any girl to mush. Devon had been battling it for so long that she’d developed a tolerance to it. Ha! Such wishful thinking. She had no such tolerance for it. She was, however, good at hiding how deeply it affected her. That was something.

But, God, it would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so dangerously seductive. He possessed a mouth so carnal, she figured it would be an absolute sin not to fantasize about it. His smooth, short hair was just a few shades darker than the light stubble that shadowed his strong jaw. Sleek, tanned skin covered all those lickable, roped, perfectly defined muscles. So many, many muscles …

Damn, his testosterone levels had to be through the roof.

Oh, had she mentioned that she hated him? Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She wanted to hate him. Technically, it should have been easy, considering he latched onto any opportunity to stomp on her hot buttons. He could also be a pushy bastard. A little self-centered and arrogant in a way that skated the edge of assholeness. Which should have been a major turn-off. It wasn’t. She couldn’t help but respect that he was so supremely comfortable in his own skin that he didn’t change his behavior to please others.

He was also currently involved with a female hellhound who’d paid Devon an unexpected visit to—in the nicest possible way—warn her to keep her distance from him. Devon had—in the bitchiest possible way—told Eleanor Owens to fuck right off.

The memory had her grinding her teeth. As a rule, Devon didn’t really do jealousy. She felt the occasional twinge of envy here and there, but she was never bitter if someone had something that she wanted … until now.

If her attraction to him was just about his looks, she could have ignored it easily enough. But it was more than that. She admired his depth of loyalty, his dedication to his role of sentinel, and how protective he was of those who mattered to him. And yeah, okay, she was as turned-on by his alpha ways as she was annoyed by them.

Although he could irritate her like no one else, he was one of the few people she trusted. Tanner Cole was not a person who let people down or who took their trust for granted. He was solid. Reliable. Brimmed with integrity. All that drew her like a magnet.

Right then, his attention settled over Devon like there was no one else in the room. He didn’t give her his usual teasing smile. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was a very unhappy bunny. A barely leashed anger seemed to ripple the air around him.

His gaze heated as it boldly raked over her with a hint of possession that made her bristle. Those eyes were like deep pools of liquid gold. They dug their way under your skin and made you feel exposed.

He prowled toward her, moving with the ease and calmness of a man who knew he could dispatch any threat without breaking a sweat. A man who made things happen. A man who was in control of his own destiny.

Flexing its claws, her feline gave him its usual snarl … just because.

Devon swallowed hard as he stepped into her personal space. Every inch of his skin seemed to hum with the sheer power that lived within him, as if it were barely contained. When she was close, it whispered over her own skin and called to the power that lived inside her.

Sexual tension charged the air, making the hairs on her nape stand up. It was always like that between them. The dazing sexual chemistry was as visceral as it was electric. There was no fighting it. All she’d ever been able to do was channel it; give it an outlet through their constant conflict.

She suspected that part of the appeal for them both was that, due to their demons’ aversion to each other, she and Tanner were each other’s forbidden fruit. Demons were all about instant gratification, and they didn’t like being denied what they wanted.

He lifted her arm and examined the chafing on her wrists. A dark growl rattled his chest. “Where else are you hurt, kitten?”

God, his voice … He could say a perfectly inane sentence with that deep, low-pitched, masculine rumble and she’d still be instantly hot for him. It wasn’t just his voice that enticed her, it was the way he spoke with calm, assertion, and authority. There was often a punch of command there that made it even hotter.

“She has a little chafing on her ankles too, but not quite as bad,” said Jolene.

Tanner’s eyes slammed on the Prime. “Do you have any idea who might have sent someone after her?”

“We will when we speak to the men who work for the broker that arranged the deal. My sentinels are waiting at the cabin for them to show,” Jolene told him.

Harper plonked herself on a stool. “Give me the whole story. I want every little detail.”

*

Listening intently as the Prime relayed what happened, Tanner found himself clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Fury rushed through him, making his blood boil, tightening every muscle until they hurt; it was difficult to keep his grip on Devon’s wrist gentle.

Some fucker had taken her, bound her, used magick on her, marked her flesh. The urge to hunt and kill the son of a bitch was a drumbeat in his veins and battered at his composure.

Knox’s mind slid against his. You’re growling.

Of course he was fucking growling. Devon Clarke was under his protection. She was also the thing he wanted most but could never have. He could, however, keep her safe and erase any threat to her—which he fully intended to do.

I’m gonna find who wants her and fuck their shit up,he told Knox. You know I take my position of Harper’s bodyguard very seriously—

As it happens, Harper already told me she wants you to join the hunt for him,said Knox. Larkin can guard her any time you’re unavailable—she’s done it before. But Jolene might not like you partaking in the hunt; she’ll want to kill him herself. I doubt Devon will like it either.

No, the hellcat wouldn’t. She often told Tanner to butt out of her business. She’d also rebuffed his offer of protection more times than he could count. She’ll just have to deal with it.

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d chewed a chunk out of Tanner’s ass. They’d been “at war” since they first met, exchanging annoying little gifts. She’d bought him things such as milk bones, a dog lead, and even a can of puppy chow. He’d bought her gifts such as balls of yarn, a pretty collar, and a catnip plant. The playful war was an outlet for all their sexual tension, really.

Tanner frowned at something Jolene said. “What do you mean by ‘she got free?’” he asked. “She was spelled to a chair.”

“He obviously wasn’t as powerful as he thought,” replied Jolene. “It’s not easy to magickly bind any breed of hellbeast—you know that.”

Sensing it was more than that, he looked down at Devon, who was staring into her mug. Apparently, she didn’t want him knowing how she’d freed herself. It wasn’t unusual for demons to keep some of their abilities quiet, but he didn’t like that she didn’t trust him with the information. “You’re sure the bastard’s dead?”

Devon’s head whipped around to face him, and her angry eyes sparkled like chips of ice. “What, you don’t think I have it in me?”

He almost smiled. Perverse as it was, he liked riling her. Liked that he could get under her skin—it was only fair, she seemed to live under his. He didn’t know what it said about him that his cock hardened in the face of her anger. “It was just a question, kitty cat. Not everyone has the stomach to kill.”

In truth, he had no trouble believing that she’d coldly disposed of the incantor. Every instinct he had told him that she was as dangerous as she was beautiful, like a shower of glass shards.

He’d never wanted anything even half as much as he wanted Devon Clarke. He knew a lot of guys liked slender women, but Tanner preferred curves. Liked to thrust his cock into something soft. Devon had gorgeous curves and a body made to be worshipped. She was all tits and ass. And fuck if he didn’t love that ass. And those tits.

Heads never failed to turn when she entered a room. Devon Clarke was a woman who made you sit up and take notice. Gave off an energy that was all sex and mystery and self-assurance.

Her expressive cat-green eyes were framed by long, thick eyelashes that made him think of black lace. An ultraviolet river of shimmering spiral curls spilled down her back, tempting him to fist them tight while he ravished that bow-shaped mouth that was just as succulent as her scent … strawberry candy canes with a hint of vanilla. That scent was like a warm, slick fist wrapped tight around his cock.

Beautiful women weren’t rare—he’d known plenty of them. But Devon held a deeper appeal for him. Fascinated him, even. Maybe it was because she defied stereotypes. There was no way to label her. She was a whole host of contradictions. Responsible yet impulsive. Antagonistic yet restful. Open yet guarded. Mischievous yet serious-minded. She also had a wit he could fully enjoy, and he’d bet she’d be a firecracker in bed.

Why had he never made a move on her? Simple. His hound saw her kind as prey to be hunted and killed. Just their scent alone made his demon strain to be free and give chase.

Tanner had figured that his attraction to her would fade in time. It hadn’t. Hell, the want had evolved into a hissing, spitting ache.

After years of knowing her, his hound had grown to be somewhat tolerant of Devon, and it no longer itched to hurt her. Still, Tanner had never dared act on what he so badly wanted. Although the demon no longer felt the need to lash out at her, Tanner couldn’t trust that his hound wouldn’t.

It had come as a complete shock when his demon leapt to the surface with a snarl on hearing what had happened to Devon, raring to avenge her. Tanner hadn’t realized his hound was protective of her.

“Finn might be able to tell us who was behind this,” said Devon. “If nothing else, he’ll be able to tell us who Asa is, so that will be a start.”

“Has anyone called Finn yet?” asked Tanner, his eyes briefly darting to the pretty diamond piercings that dotted Devon’s outer ear. He’d never been a fan of piercings on a woman, but she worked them—especially the diamonds on her hips and navel; he’d caught glimpses of them whenever her tees rode up.

It was Jolene who answered. “No. I want to look in his eyes when I talk to him. He’s Devon’s biological father, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’ll easily talk to her Prime about the goings-on within his own lair. I don’t trust that he wouldn’t hold back information and then try to take care of the situation himself.”

As Tanner didn’t know much about Devon’s relationship with Finn, he couldn’t speculate. It had been a while before he realized that the people she referred to as her parents were in fact her aunt and uncle. She’d always been very vague with him about her past. All she’d told him about her biological mother was that she was “gone.”

“I’ll arrange to meet with him in the morning,” said Jolene. “But I won’t tell him you’re coming along, Devon, or he’ll know something’s wrong. I’ll let him think it’s Prime business. Ciaran can teleport us to the meeting.”

Tanner was just about to firmly state that he fully intended to accompany them when Jolene spoke again.

“I’m inclined to think that it was probably Maddox Quentin. The demon is well-known for brokering deals that no one else would dare touch.” Jolene sighed. “It won’t be easy to get an audience with him. Unless it’s business, he has little time for demons outside of his own lair.”

Very true. Maddox had little contact with other Primes. He also refused to allow demons to join his lair if they weren’t the same breed of demon as him, which was highly unusual.

Maddox was a descendant of The Fallen—angels who’d been clipped of their wings and fell to the Earth eons ago. Many of The Fallen had copulated with humans, producing hybrids known as nephilim. Others, however, had copulated with demons, producing something else altogether; beings that were highly dangerous and unstable. After centuries upon centuries of mating with demons, they were more demonic than angelic and, as such, were considered a breed of demon in their own right. But they were only ever referred to as “descendants.”

Harper folded her arms across her chest. “I’m looking forward to having a long chat with both Finn and Maddox.”

Jolene gave her granddaughter a steady look. “Harper, you know that can’t happen. I understand you’re upset, and I know this has been something of a shock for you—it stunned us all. But I have to be seen to deal with this myself.”

Eyes flashing, Harper leaned forward slightly. “Someone targeted one of my girls—I’m not down with that, Grams.”

Jolene sighed. “And how many times have you told me that I’m not allowed to avenge any slights on you because, as a Prime, you need to be seen to deal with your own problems? The same applies here. I know you love Devon, but she’s one of mine.”

Knox put a supportive hand on his mate’s back as he spoke to Jolene, “I agree with you that, as Devon’s Prime, you need to deal with this yourself. But it would also be good for our lairs to be seen working together on this. Primes rarely work together, yes, since it doesn’t always go well and often leads to power struggles. But it concerns me that someone was as ballsy as to go after someone so close to Harper, risking her wrath and, by extension, mine.”

Jolene eyed Knox. “Define ‘working together.’”

“Take Tanner with you when you question Finn and Maddox; let people see my sentinel at your side while you deal with this matter.”

Son of a bitch.Devon kept her expression carefully blank, refusing to betray any emotion. Being around someone you wanted but couldn’t have was hard enough. When said guy knew all your buttons and could play your body with his voice alone, it was just best to spend as little time as possible with him.

Devon kept her tone even as she said, “His presence on the hunt—which is essentially backup—would make Jolene look weak, just as Harper’s interference would.”

Tanner snorted. “It would take a lot more than that to make Jolene Wallis look weak. Even if Finn can point us to whoever hired Maverick, the broker still needs to be dealt with. You know what Maddox is, kitten, and you know his kind are very insular. He will probably talk to Jolene, but he won’t do it in a hurry. He likes to make people wait. He won’t make me wait.”

“Why not?” Devon asked.

“He and I have an understanding.” Tanner’s face was a pure taunt as he added, “Look, I know that close contact with me makes it hard for you to deal with your feelings for me.”

“Feelings?” Her nostrils flared. “You mean the colossal, infinite, bottomless hatred?”

Smiling, Tanner teased, “There’s a fine line between love and hate. Don’t be embarrassed that you don’t trust you can resist me.”

“I don’t trust that I won’t annihilate you.”

“Annihilate? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Devon hissed. It was the purest temptation to snatch one of the pans that dangled from the rack and bash him over the head with it. And then his mind brushed hers, strong and determined.

You may not like it, kitten, but you’re under my protection. An attack on you is an insult to me. You won’t push me out of this, so there’s no point in trying. If you really don’t want me working with you and Jolene to find whoever wants you, fine, I’ll try tracking him alone. Whoever gets to him first will be the one who kills him.

Devon narrowed her eyes. Not fucking likely. Because there was every chance that he’d find the culprit first.

Then we work together. Which will also mean finding him faster.

She hated that he made sense. “You’re an asshole.”

“The majority of the time, yeah, I am.”

Well at least he wasn’t lacking in self-insight.

Tanner turned to Jolene. “Do you have an issue with me joining the hunt for the bastard behind the kidnapping?”

Jolene delicately shrugged one shoulder. “So long as I get my hands on whoever wants Devon, I don’t give a rat’s ass who tags along. Provided, of course, you understand I’m the one running the show.”

Devon silently cursed at her Prime’s agreement. Another familiar mind slid against hers, humming with warmth and amusement.

I must admit, watching you and Tanner interact is quite entertaining, said Adam.

Devon shot her anchor a glare. Fuck off.

Adam’s laughter floated around her head. He’s hot. All that alpha energy is totally flipping my switch—and yours. Admit it.

Admit it? She’d rather swallow glass. He’s a hellhound, I’m a hellcat.

Ah, forbidden love.

Biting back a curse, Devon glanced at her watch. “It’s been a while since I was taken. It’s possible that the broker’s men aren’t coming for me. Maybe someone tried telepathically contacting Maverick, got no response, figured something was wrong, and decided not to take any chances.”

“I had the same thought,” grumbled Jolene. “I’m just hoping I’m wrong. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep—I’ll call if anyone appears at the cabin.”

Nodding, Devon pushed to her feet. “Has my car been found yet?”

Jolene’s gaze turned inward, signaling she was communicating telepathically. Then her eyes came back into focus. “No, unfortunately. But it will be found.”

“I’ll drive you home, kitten,” said Tanner. He held up a hand when she went to object. “Haven’t we done enough arguing for one night?”

Devon snorted. “No.”

He smiled. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”