to Lucas, make sure our own people have the situation under surveillance.”
Drew played a pen over his fingers. “The fact that San Francisco is becoming ground zero for Psy who are breaking Silence . . . well, it explains the dead Psy in the city and on the edges of the state, doesn’t it?”
“Poor buggers got caught up in the crossfire between two Council factions.” Picking up a small ball from the corner of his desk, Hawke threw it against the wall, catching it as it rebounded. “You think we’ve been hit by the crossfire, too.”
Drew nodded. “Judd’s intel is that Henry Scott is out to get rid of Nikita, and we already know Henry controls Pure Psy. And San Francisco might be a changeling city, but it’s also Nikita’s power base.”
“Psychological warfare,” Hawke murmured. “He wants the city in turmoil to undermine Nikita—and . . .” Hawke caught the ball as it rebounded again, held it. “What better way to do that than by inciting the humans and changelings against each other?”
“That’s what worries me,” Drew said. “But I think we’d have heard—sensed—if that kind of ugliness was simmering.”
Hawke threw the ball, bouncing it so that it rebounded toward Drew. “What’s the date?”
Catching the ball, Andrew glanced at his watch and gave the ball to Hawke. “Why?”
“The Cherry Blossom Festival in Japantown.”
“It’s on right now.” He immediately realized what his alpha wanted him to do. “Cats will have a much better chance of getting information from the population down there.” DarkRiver held the city, and they had held it long enough and well enough that they were a trusted part of its fabric. SnowDancer, by comparison, evoked a wary caution—which was how they wanted it.
“Work with them,” Hawke said, “but I want you down there as well.”
“Don’t trust the cats even now?”
Hawke shrugged. “It’s not about trust. It’s about Pack.”
Andrew understood. Hawke’s job was to protect SnowDancer. No matter the blood bond between SnowDancer and DarkRiver, he would never place the lives of his people in their hands alone.
Indigo wasn’t exactly pleased to be pulled off her—considerable—duties to come “play girlfriend,” as Drew had put it. “If you needed a decoy,” she muttered as they meandered through the bustling stalls that lined the street, offering goodies of every variety, “why didn’t you pick one of your harem?”
Tugging her close with the arm he had around her shoulders, he nipped at the tip of her nose. “Because,” he said with a grin when she glared, “you would’ve cut me to pieces with that ice glare of yours”—his hand slid down her back—“after you kicked my bleeding, whimpering ass out of your bed. And I really like your mattress.”
He stroked his hand even lower and, cupping her face with his free hand, took her mouth in a laughing kiss that simply melted any temper out of her. God, she thought, she’d have to watch him. He could charm himself out of any situation—and make her a co-conspirator.
When he broke the kiss, he didn’t pull away, but rubbed his nose affectionately against hers. “Think of it as a date.”
At that moment, for the first time in forever, Indigo decided what the hell. It was a beautiful, sunshiny day in San Francisco; she was with a gorgeous, sexy man who couldn’t keep his hands off her; and, given their underhanded tactics to date, the group of Psy behind the current attempts to brew up trouble weren’t about to come in guns blazing anytime soon. “In that case,” she said, sliding her arm around his waist, “you have to buy me an ice cream.”
It was only as they began walking again that she realized how much attention they’d drawn despite the crowd. She glimpsed more than one smile directed their way, along with the odd wink. Her wolf sighed, but even it had to admit it was delighted by Drew’s sense of play.
Just then, as Drew went to grab their ice creams, Indigo found herself being waved over by a tiny Japanese lady seated at a small stall. Intrigued, she went. When the yukata-clad lady urged her forward with a wrinkled little hand, Indigo bent across the trays of sweet
“That one,” the elderly lady said in a soft but robust voice, “trouble.”
Indigo grinned. “Absolutely.”
Laughing out loud, the woman picked up a mochi from the table. “Does my heart good to see a man who’s not afraid of a strong woman.” Putting the treat in Indigo’s hand, she waved away her offer of payment and told her to get back to her “trouble.”
Smiling her thanks, Indigo sank her teeth into the sticky rice concoction to discover that the center was liquid chocolate. “Mmm.” Licking the syrup off her lips, she looked up to see Andrew in front of her, his eyes very much on her mouth.
“Share,” he said, in a husky voice.
Deliberately misunderstanding—because it was, she’d realized over the past few weeks, fun to tease him— she put the uneaten half of the mochi in his mouth. When he scowled, she grabbed her ice cream—mango swirl— and took a lick. “What did you get?”
Drew’s fingers tangled with her own as he swallowed the tidbit in his mouth and said, “Chocolate, rum raisin, and tutti-frutti.”
Freezing, Indigo stared at his triple cone. “Doesn’t that taste weird?”
“No. Try.” It was a relaxed gesture, but as she tasted his mix of flavors, their eyes met and suddenly the moment seemed far from lighthearted.
. . .
The elderly lady’s words whispered through her mind as she pulled back, as she squeezed her fingers around his and they started walking again through the mingled scents of sugar and ice, and later, through seafood stalls redolent with hints of the most delicate sashimi. Farther down, in the area set aside for arts and crafts, she picked up scents as distant as cured wood and cherry blossoms in gloriously full bloom.
The day seemed even brighter than before—and for the first time, the hope in her heart outweighed the fear. Because that elder had been right. While Drew challenged her, attempted to take over in his own charming way, and beyond a doubt liked being in control, he’d never—no matter what—denigrated her strength or made her feel less feminine because of who and what she was. In fact, he’d made it clear in countless ways that her capable, independent nature was part of the attraction.
“Come here,” she murmured, her heart feeling fragile and yet hugely powerful as she dared consider that this unorthodox—and utterly wonderful—relationship might just work after all.
When he dipped his head, she kissed him. “How do you like mango swirl?” she murmured against those lips she knew so very well.
“I think I need a second taste.”
Andrew could’ve spent the whole day playing with Indigo, but aware of how important it was that they get a feel for the emotional health of the city, he worked the people they met, keeping his questions light, his comments innocuous. And piece by piece, word by word, he began to get fragments of information.
Indigo remained uncharacteristically silent.
“You okay?” he asked when they stopped to look at the parade.
“I’ve never seen you do this kind of work before,” she said, looking up at him. “You’re very good.”
Pride unfurled its wings inside him, and his wolf strutted.
An hour later, when they ran into a DarkRiver couple they both knew—Emmett and Ria—they ducked out of the rush of the crowds to grab seats at a wrought-iron table outside a small café. Drinks ordered, Andrew asked the couple if they’d noticed anything, aware that all of DarkRiver’s senior people would’ve been briefed on the possible situation.
Emmett nodded to his mate, a small, curvy brunette with eyes uptilted just enough to speak of ancestry from Asia. “Ria’s family is in Chinatown, and they’ve been worried about some of what they’ve been hearing from their customers.”
Ria picked up the thread of the conversation so smoothly, it was obvious the two had been mated long enough to learn each other’s rhythms. “There are whispers around the city about ‘Purity,’” she said, making a face as she shifted her body to lean against her mate. “Some group is trying to get humans to believe they’d be better
