PROLOGUE
General Cyrus Tallant sat in his office with only his desk lamp for light, his gaze trained tearfully on the picture he held in his hands.
His daughter. His little Schemer.
His lips turned up in a sad smile as he thought of the name. It had been his idea, of course, to name her Scheme. He’d been unable to help himself. The moment he held her tiny body in his arms, he had known she would be a little manipulator.
And he had been proud. Proud of the chocolate brown eyes, the thick sable hair, the way she stared up at him as though wondering, even then, how she could maneuver this male to her benefit.
A watery chuckle whispered through the room. She had been quick and calculating, just as he was, just as her mother was. Unfortunately, perhaps she was too much like her mother.
Sweet Dorothy. She had conspired against him. She had helped those nasty Breeds escape. The ones who tormented him now. Callan Lyons and the small pride he led. She had aided their escape and the destruction of the New Mexico labs when Scheme was barely ten.
He should have known then that his child had been corrupted by Dorothy’s sudden attack of scruples. Dorothy had spent much time with Scheme. She had bonded with her as only a mother can. He admitted he should have suspected his daughter had inherited that lack of the mental strength that it took to do what must be done. To force the Breeds to heel to their masters.
And now Dorothy’s legacy had carried over to his precious child.
He wiped at the tear that fell slowly from his eyes.
She meant to destroy him. And if she managed to actually contact Jonas Wyatt, then she would destroy him. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t allow her to escape to the creatures she had obviously been secretly helping for years.
Luck had aided him this time. He had managed to draw Wyatt out of Washington; all he had to do now was take care of his daughter.
Kill her.
He gazed around his office. He should have taken care of it before she left for the party where she intended to betray him, but he just hadn’t found the strength.
He couldn’t kill her in the home she had grown up in. Where he had played with her as a toddler, laughed with her before the years she spent at the Academy.
He couldn’t spill her blood in the home where she had been born. It wasn’t right.
He lifted his head and gazed across his desk at the man still awaiting his orders.
Chazzon St. Marks was an excellent assassin. Stealthy, never leaving evidence, and always following orders. One couldn’t ask for a better killer.
And it was because of this man that his daughter so hated him. Perhaps he had been wrong, he mused silently, to order Chaz to become her lover all those years ago. To steal his daughter’s heart and learn her secrets.
Not that Chaz had learned much. Just her suspicion that Cyrus had murdered her mother, her regret that she had grown up without that bitch’s influence. Her dreams of a life away from him.
And then she had conceived.
Chaz was a good killer; he wasn’t heir material though. And Cyrus couldn’t allow a grandchild to be born of him. Especially a grandson.
As her father, he had made the decision to have the child aborted.
She had never understood, Cyrus realized now, that he was looking out for her. That he was trying to guide her, to lead her.
“Do you regret the child?” he asked Chaz.
Cold, cold blue eyes stared back at him as hard lips tilted mockingly. “I drugged her for you. If I had wanted the brat, I would have taken her and run. ”
Yes, he would have. Chaz gave his loyalty freely. He wasn’t above taking anything if it suited his whims. It was one of the things Cyrus respected about him.
“Do we have proof?” Grief weighed on him.
He had punished her many times over the years in his efforts to train her, to strengthen her and teach her the value of giving him her loyalty. He had been hard on her, he admitted. Once, he had even killed her, to teach her the meaning of death. The punishment should she betray him. He hadn’t had proof then, only suspicion, and the weight of remorse had grown inside him each time Scheme stared back at him with accusation in her eyes.
He couldn’t kill her permanently without proof. Those accusing brown eyes would haunt him for eternity if he did such a thing. He needed to know for certain.