Cipher

of this shit first. For now, we can just…be.”

She shifted her weight, curling into his side with her feet tucked under her. “What are you reading?”

He showed her the cover. “The last thing my mom published before she died. I’ve never read it.” But helping Kat search for information about her mother had prompted him to pick it up.

“I’ve read it.” Her fingertip traced the edge of the book. “I’ve read a lot of her stuff. Not just because she’s your mother, either. I went through a phase when I was nineteen…read nothing but feminist theory for about six months. Alec hated life.”

“I bet he did.” It was easy to imagine the sorts of heated debates his mother might have gotten in to with Alec. “I used to think the whole shapeshifter thing was a chauvinistic mess. You know, before. Now I know it’s not about gender at all. Derek sure the hell isn’t the boss of Nick.”

“I always thought Nick was an exception. That Alec treated her like an equal because she was the werewolf princess. Because her dad’s the Alpha.” Kat’s slid her fingers off the edge of the book to twine with his. “But now I’ve seen him around Zola, and you’re right. It’s not gender. It’s power. He treats Miguel and Sera the same, because they’re both weaker than he is.”

His mother, who had dedicated her life to studying power differentials in all their forms, would have been fascinated—once she understood. “It seems complicated until you’re in it, I think.”

“Because there’s shapeshifter power and family power and emotional power…” Amusement laced her voice. “Sexual power. It’s like the most complicated dance in the world, and no one teaches you the steps until you’re getting your toes stomped on.”

“Or you’re the one doing the stomping.”

Kat settled her cheek against his shoulder. “I think we step on each other’s feet a lot.”

“Doesn’t matter, though.” He stroked her hair and smiled. Her proximity had always excited him, but now it soothed him, as well. “We’re figuring it out as we go.”

“We are.” The tension seemed to be leaving her, drifting away as her body relaxed more fully against his. Attraction was there, and the barest hint of arousal, but she seemed content cuddled against his side, almost as if she was savoring the physical contact. Even her fingers made slow circles over his, tracing his knuckles and up to his wrist before meandering down again.

A quiet moment, the sort of thing most people would take for granted. But not Kat, who was obviously starved for the simplest of contact.

He could give her that. It couldn’t last forever, not with the shadow of whatever they’d uncovered on that zip drive looming over them, but for now…

Yes, he could give her that.

Chapter Eleven

Three days of peace shattered with the rumble of a motorcycle engine.

The warehouse’s downstairs kitchen was close enough to the main entrance that Andrew heard not only the engine, but the dull thump of boot soles on the pavement outside. He didn’t drop his dishtowel until the side door rattled and the bell buzzed.

Kat glanced up, peering at him over the top of the laptop she’d opened on the island. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Not particularly, but sometimes people show up.” He waved her back, walked to the door and opened it.

The man on the other side looked like trouble, from his scuffed boots to his sunglasses. His leather jacket was unzipped just enough to reveal a shoulder rig, and tattoos climbing down the sides of his neck and disappearing beneath a black T-shirt. He had a duffel bag over one shoulder and a grin that outdid Alec at his most arrogant.

He also had an aura of magic that felt like nothing Andrew had ever encountered before.

When he spoke, it was in the flat cadence of TV newscasters, though a hint of southern drawl lurked around the edges. “You must be Andrew Callaghan. I’m looking for Kat. My brother sent me.”

Ben’s brother, the one who liked to play with swords. “Patrick, I guess?”

“Patrick McNamara,” he confirmed, holding out his free hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. Come in.”

As the newcomer stepped into the warehouse, Kat appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes lit up, and she took two excited steps forward before jerking to a halt. “Oh shit. How bad is it?”

Patrick McNamara looked like trouble—or like the kind of guy you’d send in to deal with trouble.

Andrew laid a hand on Kat’s shoulder. “Maybe we should all go sit in the kitchen and talk.”

Kat didn’t move, but her shoulder was tense under his fingers. “How bad is it?” she asked again.

“Bad, Kat.” The man nodded to Andrew and lifted his bag higher. “I’ve got the printouts in here. Ben didn’t want to take the chance they’d get intercepted.”

Andrew hesitated. “Want to lay them out on the counter, Kat? We can look at them together, or you can have some time.”

She drew in a steadying breath before shaking her head. “If it’s big enough for Patrick to drive over here personally, it’s not just about my family.”

Despite the truth of the words, no one else had quite so personal a stake in the information contained in those printouts. “Did Ben give you a rundown before you left?”

“The basics.” Patrick followed them across the open entryway to the kitchen tucked in the front corner of the warehouse. “I read through the highlights. There’s a lot of information here, and it’s a crazy kind of scary.”

Kat cleared her laptop out of the way so he could start pulling out files. “Information about…”

“Psychics.” The folder he pulled out looked like the one Ben had given them with fake identification.

“Kids, mostly, or people who were kids ten years ago. Whoever drew up these files was looking to build an army of psychics and planned on using them to break the world wide open.”

Andrew took the proffered folder, thick with pages, and flipped it open. As soon as his eyes focused on the list of names on the cover sheet, he understood why Patrick had given it to him instead of Kat.

Psychics of Interest. A list, and lengthy enough to be exhaustive. He recognized too many of them-ones he’d heard in passing, and even people he knew. Members of their community.

Not to mention the woman Kat’s mother had trusted with her daughter’s life. “Peace Kristoffersen had a power called psychic obscuration. That’s what she was talking about, why Alyson gave her the key. The cult literally couldn’t find her.”

He flipped the pages, and his blood ran cold. There were other lists— To Watch and Eliminate.

Callum, Kat’s mentor, was on that one, along with a few others Andrew didn’t recognize.

The last section wasn’t a list but a collection of dossiers complete with pictures and a header on every page that left his hands shaking.

Of Particular Interest.

A much-younger Kat smiled up at him from one page. It detailed her strengths and weaknesses, as well as her most appropriate uses— morale and personnel control. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

Kat was oblivious, her attention on another set of papers. “This is what she meant.” Her voice held an edge of horror. “Turning me into a weapon.”

Andrew shuffled the remaining papers. “There must be three dozen dossiers here.”

She caught his hand and pushed one paper toward him. “It’s not recruitment, Andrew. It’s enslavement.”

Patrick cleared his throat as Andrew stared down at neat specifications for a collar and an accompanying charm. “It’s a prototype, and according to the notes, they made one. Slap the collar on a psychic, and anyone with a whiff of psychic power can control them. Use their powers, do whatever they want.”