Leaving her alone wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t have a choice. She needed to eat. She needed clothes. What he needed to do was find out what the hell was going on, and fast. Before Cain gave the order to kill her.
Chapter 10
By the time Joss had bought food and gone to Erwan’s cottage to pack some of Clelia’s clothes after staring down four damn wolves, he got a call from Lann saying Cain had arrived at the safe house.
Joss looked around the abandoned jetty in the hidden alcove to ensure he wasn’t followed before scanning the surrounding forest with heat-sensitive binoculars. When the search came up clean, he threw the things he tugged along into a motorboat, started the engine, and drove a few miles out to sea.
After Île Longue, he spotted the yacht. He cut the engine when he was close, and let the tide push his boat to the side of the luxury vessel.
The Russian appeared on the deck, hooking the ladder into place for Joss to come aboard their new safe house. He had to admit, it was clever. They could move around, making it harder to be tracked, and Cain had a natural affinity for water, not to mention water was the safest place a person could be when a firestarter posed a threat.
Lann extended a hand to help Joss over the last step. His grip was firm for his slender appearance.
“Where is she?” Lann asked.
“Safe.”
The truth was he didn’t trust her with anyone else. Right now he didn’t even trust Cain. Not that trust had ever been required for their working partnership. Joss executed his missions without asking questions. This time though, he had plenty of questions, and he was going to demand answers. He had a feeling there was more to the case than solving a crime. He also knew Cain’s brutality where the fight for snuffing out evil was concerned. Cain would harm Clelia if needed. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d be required to destroy someone who abused the power of their art or use whoever they could to get to that person. Until he knew how Clelia fitted into the picture and what Cain’s plans for her and Erwan were, he wasn’t exposing her to anyone.
Lann regarded him curiously, his green cashmere sweater hanging loosely over his lean frame. “You’re overprotective where that female is concerned.”
“If I wanted your opinion, I would’ve asked for it.”
“I’m not challenging you, Joss. I’m concerned. Cain isn’t pleased.”
Joss motioned to the motorboat. “Get the bags. There’s food that needs to go in the fridge.” When Lann moved forward, Joss laid a hand on his arm. “I appreciate your concern.”
Lann’s golden eyes flickered. “You better get inside. Cain will be upset if you keep him waiting.”
Upset was a girlish word for what Cain would be. Cain was Joss’s senior by twenty years, but his authority was asserted through his rank, and although Joss had no desire to start fighting ranks, he’d do whatever was needed to keep Clelia safe until he knew more.
His irrationality bothered him. She was innocent, but innocence didn’t explain his uncharacteristic mercifulness where the woman was concerned. For now, he pushed these troubling thoughts from his mind in order to focus on the conversation that was about to take place.
Bracing himself, he went below deck to the lounge where Cain sat on a leather sofa with an espresso on the table in front of him, reading data on a 3D screen. Cain minimized the graphics he was studying and pushed the information aside with a flick of his hand. He wore a white suit with a white shirt and white silk tie, his signature attire. He dressed like God, Joss thought grimly, as if he controlled the fate of mankind, which wasn’t too far off the mark. His dark hair was brushed back, curling over the nape of his neck, and his brown eyes were brimming with a brewing explosion. The inflamed redness of the birthmark on his cheek told Joss that Cain was upset.
Joss nodded in greeting, coming to a halt in front of the table. Maya sat in a corner working on a tablet, Bono was behind the bar twisting open a bottle of beer, and Lann, who had followed him inside, stood quietly to the side. With a toss of his head, Cain dismissed the others. They gave Joss looks that varied from worried to concerned as they filtered through the door.
When they were alone, Cain put the tip of his shoe on the chair opposite him and kicked it toward Joss. Joss caught the chair, placed it facing Cain, and straddled it. Neither man spoke as each waited for the other in silent challenge to either attack or defend.
He had a lot of time and respect for his leader. After all, it was Cain who found him, trained him, and rescued him from himself when he washed up as nothing but a shadow of a boy in the streets of New York. However on this, Joss had to trust his gut. It ran deeper than his conditioning, maybe deeper than he’d like to admit. The men stared at each other until Cain sighed in frustrated recognition of Joss’s hardheadedness.
“What the fuck was that stunt?” Cain asked in his strong American accent.
Joss feigned innocence “What stunt?”
“Acting doesn’t suit you. You’re a team leader, not a circus clown.”
“Your point is?”
“You better start acting like the man I trained and not some rabid hero gone astray.”
“I took the suspect in like you commanded.”
“You were supposed to bring the girl in to ground base and if the base was compromised to the safe house. I thought my orders were clear.”
“I made the best decision I could with the knowledge at my disposal.”
Cain crossed his wrists over the top of his cane. “You think I’m withholding information from you.”
“I
