Rachel didn't speak. She knew the back of the limo was equipped with a two-way intercom, which Svenson would have definitely made use of, as well as a camera that could be activated if needed.
The limo moved out of the city and headed into the mountains, but it hadn't gone far into them when they turned on a small single-lane road, then onto a gravel path for nearly a mile. Finally, it pulled into the front of what appeared to be a small cabin.
Not exactly as grandiose and luxurious as he knew Brandenmore was used to, Jonas thought as he surveyed the outside of the cabin through the side windows.
The woods were thick with sheltering pine, which would work as an advantage for him and Rachel. He glanced down at her neat black slacks, dark gray cashmere sweater and long leather coat. She wore low heels, which were perfect for a business setting, but not so good if they had to run. But he could compensate for that, if it meant carrying her on his back.
"We're here, boys and girls," Svenson announced eagerly as the partition slid down once again. He frowned at them, obviously taking note of the fact that Jonas wasn't cuddling a tearful Rachel. "You sure you two are mates? You act like strangers to me."
Jonas stared back at him coldly, silently.
Svenson grunted before he and the driver stepped from the vehicle and the back door opened.
"Now, let's be polite and not try any of that Breed-going-nuts bullshit, okay?" he warned as he waved them toward the cabin with one hand while he held the gun on them with the other.
Polite? Jonas was never polite.
Rachel fought back a hard shudder of fear as Jonas's hand landed at her lower back while he escorted her to the cabin. His palm was a warm, heavy weight as they stepped up on the rough stone porch and the front door eased open slowly.
She wasn't panicking, Rachel thought. There were no premonitions of danger such as the ones she had felt returning home the night Brandenmore had been in her house.
Stepping into the cabin, Rachel felt nothing but anger, and an overriding fear for Jonas. He would die before he allowed anything to happen to Amber. Though she knew he was attempting to give the appearance of unconcern, she knew there was no way he would allow their child to be harmed.
Their child. As the heat from the fireplace slapped her in the face, Rachel realized that Amber had always been their child.
Then, she came face-to-face with the man who had fathered Amber once again.
Devon sat with Phillip Brandenmore in the cabin's open sitting area. Relaxing in the leather recliner, obviously more than a little drunk, Devon appeared smug, triumphant, as she and Jonas were escorted into the room.
Phillip Brandenmore, on the other hand, simply seemed satisfied. For some reason, he appeared to think he had won. And if his expression was anything to go by, he believed he was being benevolent in his victory.
"Have a seat, Jonas." Brandenmore gestured to the leather sofa across from Devon's chair and parallel to the couch Brandenmore was seated on.
Sitting in the corner, the other man stretched his arm along the armrest before lifting his drink, which had been resting against his knee. He sipped at the golden liquor slowly as he watched Jonas with the careful regard men used when a wild animal crossed their paths.
"Director Wyatt." Brandenmore extended his hand to the sofa. "Thank you for joining us. Can I get you a drink?"
Rachel was almost amused at Brandenmore's cordial tone.
"No thank you." Precise, unaccented, Jonas's tone was like ice. "Shall we get to the point instead?"
Brandenmore sighed heavily. "You moved up my schedule a bit, I must say. I had intended on waiting a few weeks to allow my spy within Sanctuary to be able to gather the information I needed."
Rachel hid her surprise. She knew the tireless search that had been waged for any remaining spies, only to come up empty-handed.
"You mean the bugs you had programmed into our computers?" Jonas's words shocked her even more. She hadn't pieced that together yet.
She knew the virus hadn't made sense. Sherra was diligent about the computers, as were the lionesses who operated them and the rest of their computer security staff, especially after discovering that information had been stolen via a new program that had hidden secrets in innocuous emails.
"Yes." Brandenmore smiled as Devon shot him an irritated look. "The bugs. They were rather ingenious, I must say. I was within days of cashing in on the information they had been gathering when you so obviously found them."
"They were programmed to wipe their tracks and self-destruct." Jonas had already guessed that one.
"You owe me for that one, Phillip," Devon bit out mulishly. "That program was rather expensive."
"I owe your father," Brandenmore shot back in irritation.
There was a tension between the two men, an anger that wasn't entirely understandable, Rachel thought. Then again, she couldn't bring herself to understand what they were doing together in the first place.