When he finally did, his beautiful green eyes danced with bright flecks of amber. He swiveled his head to greet the new arrivals, his fanged smile utterly unapologetic.
She glanced toward the entrance of the kitchen too. Standing there were two couples. There was no mistaking the air of authority--and lethal danger--that radiated from the Breed males, both the handsome, golden-haired one in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans and the devilishly good looking brunet who stood beside his well-dressed comrade wearing a lot of sleek black leather and a pair of long, curved daggers sheathed on his belt.
The two Breedmates at their sides were equally stunning for different reasons, each blessed with incredible beauty and a strength that seemed to emanate from deep within.
Aric rose, taking Kaya’s hand to bring her up with him from their embarrassing clinch on the floor. He smiled at the tall female with caramel-brown hair and eyes the same spring leaf green as his own. Then he tipped his head in greeting to the golden male at the beauty’s side.
“Hey, Mom. Hello, Father. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
CHAPTER 21
“Lars Scrully,” Aric said, dropping a passport photograph and a folder of intel he’d assembled for the four Order commanders gathered with Nikolai in his private office.
The group of Order elders presented an imposing picture, even seated as they were around Niko’s large desk, engaged in sober conversation. Gabrielle Thorne and Aric’s mother Tavia were also in the room, seated together on an oversized sofa near the fireplace. The other warriors’ Breedmates and the rest of the mansion’s occupants were catching up elsewhere in the compound with Kaya and Mira and the Montreal team while Renata continued to rest with the baby.
“Scrully wasn’t on the wedding guest list, nor in any of the gate check security data Gideon’s hacking provided us. But we’ve got the son of a bitch.” Aric gestured to the file of intel he’d collected in the twenty minutes since Kaya had ID’d the squat, dark-haired man in the reception photo. “I knew I’d seen his face somewhere before,” he told the group of warrior elders. “There were some news stories from eighteen months ago when Lars Scrully inherited his father’s pharmaceutical empire.”
“Scrully Pharmaceuticals?” Tavia asked, her distaste for the name evident in her tone. “That’s the company that came under fire several years ago for acquiring expired patents on antivirals, cancer treatment drugs, and other medicines, then jacking up their prices by five-thousand percent. People literally died because they couldn’t afford to pay his exorbitant prices.”
Aric nodded, unsurprised that his mother would be the one to mention that fun fact. If his gift for recollection was flawless, it was only because it was handed down to him through her powerful DNA.
“That’s the one,” he confirmed. “Lars’s father, Simon Scrully, made a fortune off the backs of other people’s suffering.” Aric pulled out a printed obituary and laid it on top of the folder. “The old man had a severe allergy to shellfish. Apparently, someone forgot to tell the new chef at his favorite restaurant. Scrully ate a bite of lobster sauce on his pasta and dropped dead of anaphylactic shock before anyone could administer his medicine to counteract it.”
Dante let out a wry chuckle. “Ironic way to go, considering how the asshole got rich in the first place.”
“Or convenient,” Aric’s father said. “Now that I’m hearing this, I recall some rumors about the old man’s death. Some of the gossip at the time seemed to suggest Scrully’s son settled into his inheritance with a bit more glee than grief.”
Aric nodded. “That’s right. And he’s been spending money like water ever since. Expensive toys and women. Palatial homes. In fact, just three months ago, he moved into a newly built twenty-thousand square-foot lake estate here in the province.”
Nikolai frowned. “And thanks to Kaya, we also know Scrully was making arrangements to pay a cool hundred million to Stephan Mercier on behalf of Opus Nostrum.”
“Right,” Aric replied. “The question is, in exchange for what?”
His father grunted. “Too bad we can’t ask Mercier. Kind of hard to talk when you’re missing your tongue and half your throat.”
Niko nodded, grim. “No need to guess whose handiwork that hit was. Opus tends to get twitchy whenever we start closing in on any of their weak links in the chain.”
“Which means we need to get our hands on Lars Scrully as soon as possible,” Lucan said, his gray gaze as cool as gunmetal.
Dante leaned back in his chair, flashing a dangerous grin. “I do love a good old-fashioned interrogation session.”
Beside him, Rio chuckled. “I’m with you on that, brother. Especially the part where we each take a piece of this Opus bastard apart with our fists and fangs.” The immense warrior with the smooth Spanish accent and a vicious tangle of old shrapnel scars riddling the left side of his face could be a charmer, but tonight he was as lethally serious as the rest of his comrades. He glanced at Aric. “How far is Scrully’s place from here?”
“About an hour.”
Dante’s whiskey-colored eyes lit up beneath the black slashes of his brows. “Plenty of time to be there and back with Scrully before the sun rises.”
“Lucan,” Gabrielle interjected softly, but firmly. The auburn-haired beauty had the regality of a queen, and now was no exception. All heads turned toward her as she spoke. “I don’t think I like this. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“How so?” The Order’s founder looked at his woman, all of his focus fixed on hearing her opinion.
“Opus isn’t playing games, Lucan. They’ve been a serious threat from the very beginning. And now we know for certain they have ultraviolet weapons. A lot of them.” She shook her head, true fear written on her pretty face. “Maybe we should take this new intel on Lars Scrully back with us to D.C. when we return, then work on a plan of attack after we’ve had more time
