“You know,” Andrew said, turning his mind away from that situation for now, “that you can come to me for anything while he’s away, right?”
“As if I’d have to,” she muttered, “when somebody in the pack would rat me out to you the instant I even vaguely looked like I might be in trouble.” But she leaned over and brushed a kiss on his jaw before beginning to work on the screen again, erasing and redrawing points of what appeared to be parts of a complex computronic design.
“Is that your teleportation machine?” The FAST project was, he knew, her most important long-term undertaking. If she could one day invent a way to send anyone—not just Tks—place to place with such speed, it would change the world.
“Uh-huh.” Tiny frown lines between her brows. “Now that you’ve got the lieutenant’s attention,” she said, returning to their earlier subject, “what’re you planning on doing next?”
“Never you mind.” Shooting her a smug look when she gave a disgruntled scowl, he swung his legs off the table. “I need to go have a comm-conference with my team, make sure there’s nothing that needs to be brought to Hawke’s attention around the territory.”
“You can use the room through there,” Brenna said, pointing to her right. “No one’s booked it for now.” A pause, laughing eyes looking up at him. “And it’ll let you hide from Indigo until you’re ready to spring the ambush.”
Leaning down, Andrew kissed the top of his sister’s head. “I love you.” It was a smiling statement, but no less true for it.
“I love you, too,” Brenna said, “even if you are driving Indigo so insane, she’s starting to snap at everyone in the den. Did you really steal her phone and record your voice howling her name as the ringtone?”
“Maybe.” Deeply satisfied by the current state of affairs, Andrew strolled into the conference room, shut the door, and initiated the calls. He trusted Bren, but other techs could come in at any moment, and the information his team gathered was quite often sensitive. Having brought them all into the call, he sat back and listened, making notes as necessary.
Thankfully, things were very steady at present, partly as a result of Riley and Mercy’s mating. A strong mated couple wasn’t essential at the top of the hierarchy, but it did help steady the pack as a whole. “What about that group of old ones?” he asked one of the women on his team. “The ones you were worried were stewing over something?”
“I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re just being grumpy old men.”
Laughter, then a few more snippets of information before they wrapped up the meeting early and Andrew snuck through the corridors to update Hawke on some of the smaller matters. His alpha liked to keep his finger on the pulse of his pack.
“We’re in good shape,” Hawke said after Andrew finished, neither of them having elected to sit for the short briefing. “Except for these games the Psy are playing.”
“Pure Psy seems to have accepted defeat in its proselytizing efforts at least,” Andrew said, having monitored the situation. “No new reports within the pack or in the city.”
“And we’ve had no more detected incursions onto our land.” Hawke folded his arms, staring at the territorial map on the wall. “But something tells me that’s not over yet.”
“No,” Andrew agreed, “there was too much planning there for them to give up their aim—whatever it is—so easily.”
“We might, at some stage, have to give Councilor Henry Scott a little warning tap to let him know he’s not welcome here.”
Since SnowDancer, together with DarkRiver, had already taken down one Councilor, Andrew knew that “warning tap” was a real possibility. “Are you thinking sometime soon?”
“No. We need more intel on the bastard. He’s smart.” Turning from the map, Hawke raised an eyebrow. “As of right now, you’re off shift for the next forty-eight hours. Go play your favorite game.”
Feeling the hum of anticipation in his belly, Andrew gave his alpha an innocent smile. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Hawke pointed a finger at him. “I want my calm, collected lieutenant back by the end of the week, or I’m packing you in a box and shipping you to fucking Siberia.”
Andrew grinned. “I hear it’s nice there this time of year.”
Indigo knew she looked good in the strapless little black dress that came to midthigh and skimmed over her body like a lover’s caress. Feet encased in three-inch heels, hair cascading down to the dip of her spine, and lips plump and red, she intended to make Andrew Kincaid’s eyes pop out in revenge for the relentless pressure she was under to “forgive him.” It didn’t matter how many times she explained that it wasn’t about forgiveness, but about the health of the pack; no one listened.
She’d had enough.
Several men waiting at the bar went stock-still as she entered the restaurant. “Andrew Kincaid,” she said to the hostess, ignoring everyone else.
The petite brunette checked her sleek computronic organizer. “This way, Ms. Riviere.”
Indigo narrowed her eyes, but said nothing as she followed the woman through the carpeted center of the restaurant and up the small flight of stairs at the back. She heard several men suck in a breath as she passed, while one audibly moaned, “Oh, God,
Instead of showing her to a table on the upper level, the hostess took her to the door of a small private room. “I hope you enjoy your meal, Ms. Riviere,” the woman said, opening the door and waiting for Indigo to enter.
“Thank you.” She heard the door close behind her, but her eyes were on the man who stood beside the table dressed in a tuxedo that turned him from gorgeous and deliciously sexy to devastatingly handsome—but with the wicked still in his eye.
“Wow.” He ran his eyes down her body, back up, then down again. Slowly. Very, very slowly.
Every inch of her skin felt hypersensitive by the time those playful blue eyes met hers again. “I’m officially slayed,” he said, placing a hand on his heart.
She would not smile. “I thought this was a party.”
“Of two.” Pulling out her chair, he inclined his head. “Won’t you take a seat, Indigo?”
It felt strange to hear him use her full name. But deciding to take him up on his offer since the whole point of tonight was to talk to him face-to-face, she closed the distance between them and, placing her purse on the table, sat down. He eased the chair in behind her, his arms on either side of her body. “You smell . . .” A long, slow breath, as if he was savoring the scent of her.
She didn’t reply, overwhelmed by the sensory impact of him. The warmth of his body lapped against her skin even as the wild male scent of him wrapped around her like an invisible caress. She almost expected him to bend his head and kiss her nape, so much so that her body tightened in anticipation, but he released his hold on the arms of the chair and moved around to sit across from her.
“You still carry my scent in your skin.”
She closed her hands hard on the chair arms to get herself under control. “It’ll fade.” Pain and an untamed, unnamed emotion flared within her even as she spoke.
“I’ve got you in my skin, too,” he said in a tone that she couldn’t read, before pushing a code on the little touch pad sitting to the side. “I hope you don’t mind, but I placed an order for both of us earlier. I wanted to be able to talk to you without interruptions.”
Unsure how to read his behavior, she said, “That’s fine,” and watched as the door opened to admit an attendant dressed in a smart black suit. Rolling in the serving cart, the slender man placed it quietly by the side of the table. “You’re certain you do not wish for me to stay, sir?”
“No, we’ll manage.”
The man left with a nod to both Drew and Indigo.
Rising, Drew lifted off a cover to place a plate of delicacies in front of her. “I thought you’d like a choice of starters.”
Starting to feel an odd prickling at the back of her neck—as if she’d walked unawares into a trap—Indigo nonetheless picked up an artwork of a pastry and popped it into her mouth as he retrieved his own plate. The flavors exploded on her tongue in a burst of sweetness and spice. “Delicious.”
