Fury of Desire

“Why you?” B asked.

“I earned a certain reputation in prison.”

“Oh really?” Sarcasm out in full force, Rikar flashed his pearly whites, half smile, mostly snarl. “Mind sharing what that was exactly?”

His gaze predatory flat, Azrad cracked his knuckles. “I kill whatever comes near me.”

Wick snorted. “Handy.”

“It worked for me. So here’s how it breaks down.” Azrad glanced from him to Bastian, then back again. “You know how the pampered bastards think. Nian is the same. He needed a warrior outside the Archguard’s grid, a player they’d never see coming, never mind miss. He offered me a deal… freedom and a first-class ticket to Seattle for one thing.”

“A face-to-face with me.”

“Bingo.” Azrad shrugged. “The deal is: I get close enough to facilitate the meeting. After that, I’m to get in your good graces… in tight enough to feed him information about Bastian and the Nightfury pack. I never agreed to that part of the bargain, but…” Trailing off, the male frowned at his bruised knuckles. “I wanted to meet you, so lying to him about the spying shit seemed like the play to make.”

“Not a bad plan,” Venom said, sounding impressed.

“It got me here, didn’t it?”

Venom rolled his eyes.

Azrad grinned, then smoothed his expression. As amusement slid into seriousness once more, the male met B’s gaze. “Look, I know you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. If someone showed up claiming to be my blood kin, I’d hurt him first and ask questions second. All I ask is that you run the DNA. Give me that much, at least.”

Expression impassive, Bastian eyed the male. “No promises, but… give us a few days. The blood work will get run. In the meantime—”

“In the meantime,” Azrad said. “I’m into something else you should know about.”

Curiosity nudged Wick. “What’s the cherry on top?”

“I’m inside the enemy camp.” A nasty gleam in his eyes, Azrad smiled, the expression making him look like a kingpin. A dangerous one with his finger on the trigger. “I figured you might need a gesture of goodwill to take me seriously, so I infiltrated the Razorback ranks over two weeks ago.”

“Christ,” Rikar said, looking like he’d been hit upside the head. With an axe, sharp side up.

Venom blinked. “For real?”

“For real. The bastards think I’m one of them.”

“A spy.” Wick grinned. He couldn’t help it. The plan struck him as ingenious. Smart. Bold. A gutsy move by a gusty male. Right up Wick’s alley. “That’s how you knew about Jamison.”

Dark-blue eyes met his. “Razorback chatter and some research put the female in the mix. You ruffled some feathers when you stole Tania out from underneath Ivar. Logic suggested you’d go after the sister next.”

Rikar dropped another f-bomb. “We’re that predictable?”

“Only when it comes to females.” Heavy metal on his face winking in the low light, Azrad stared at the Nightfury first in command. “Otherwise, you’re a fucking mystery. Good thing too. With the Razorbacks hunting you, secrecy is—”

“So little brother wants to join our cause.” When Azrad nodded, B approached on silent feet. Skirting the end of the coffee bar, his commander rolled up beside his maybe brother. Azrad froze. Wick didn’t blame him. As calm as B looked, everyone in the room knew he wasn’t playing. Raising his foot, B nudged the side of Azrad’s chair. “What’s in it for you?”

“Payback.”

“Ivar piss you off or something?”

“Too soon to tell. I haven’t met him yet.” His head tilted back, the male looked up at Bastian, meeting his bright-green eyes. “I’m still working my way up the Razorback food chain. But Ivar’s just a stepping stone, one I’ll use to catch a bigger fish.”

Wick hummed. “You’re talking about Rodin.”

“I owe him a lifetime of pain.” Azrad smiled, the show of teeth animalistic. “Besides, Rodin and his cronies are bankrolling the Razorbacks.”

Looming above them, interest sparked in B’s gaze. “Do you have proof of that?”

“Not yet, but—”

An alarm went off, beeping double time.

Azrad glanced at his watch. Midnight on the dot. “Nian’s on the hunt for it. You interested in talking to him?”

“You got a go bag with a computer here?”

The male nodded.

Bastian tipped his chin. “Then set it up.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. The second B agreed, Azrad pushed out of his seat so fast the chair wobbled. As he turned to his warriors, Eye Patch handed him a black backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he crossed to the large table in the center of the room and went to work: unzipping the bag, pulling out a laptop, fingers flying as he typed in coordinates and set up the video chat.

Wall-mounted above a cluster of club chairs, a large flat screen TV flipped on. Wick strode over for a better look. The video prompt box blinked on center screen, washing the coffee shop’s pale walls with bright-blue light. Smart move on Azrad’s part. The wide-angle webcam hooked on top of the TV would capture the entire room, allowing Nian to view all of them from the other side of the world.

Azrad tapped a few more keys and—

“About flipping time.”

“Good to see you too, Nian.”

Seated behind a desk, a dark-haired male stared out at them. Eyes the color of opals swept the inside of Starbucks. “Which one of you is Bastian?”

“Right here.” Impassive, Bastian sat down, unloading his weight on a club chair. As he set his shitkickers on the coffee table, he met the youngest member of the Archguard head-on. With more growl in his voice than patience, he said, “What the fuck do you want, Nian?”

“Any number of things,” the male said. “But first things first. You need to get your warriors the hell out of Prague. Rodin’s hatching a scheme… one that includes Gage and Haider’s execution. At nightfall, a death squad will be sent out to secure them.”

Wick bared his teeth on a snarl.

“Goddamn it,” Venom growled.

“Exactly.” A row of bookcases behind him, Nian leaned forward in his office chair. Not bothering to hide his concern, he nailed Bastian with shimmering multihued eyes. “I don’t know where the Metallics sleep, so I can’t reach them. But if you can… do it. Tell them to stay out of dragon form. No flying. The city will be crawling with Rodin’s thugs come sundown. Tell them to contact me via this web link. I’ll smuggle them out of the city.”

Lovely in theory. Big problem with its proposed execution.

Wick didn’t trust the Archguard whelp any farther than he could throw him. No male in his right mind would. Especially considering Nian’s pedigree and history. Any number of possibilities might play out. The bastard could be in league with Rodin. He might be setting the leader of the Archguard up to take the fall for whatever scheme he had in the works. Could be lying through his teeth in order to lead the Metallics into a trap too. Any combination of which would see his brothers-in-arms murdered in cold blood.

All losing propositions.

“Sloan,” Wick said to his buddy standing sentry outside.

“Here.”

“Find a computer.”

Scales clicked as Sloan shifted on a nearby rooftop. “What do you need?”

“Warn the Metallics. Rodin’s got a price on their heads.” One ear on his commander’s conversation with Nian, Wick met his XO’s gaze. Rikar nodded, and he continued. “Tell ’em to get out of Prague. Under the radar. Most ricky-tick.”

“Roger that.”