He hadn’t even been able to make that offer to her after pulling her out of the desert, fully cognizant of the fact that if she hadn’t been fully trained, she would have never survived that.
Surprisingly, Graeme nodded, his expression losing its amusement, though the calculation burned fierce and bright in his green eyes.
“You don’t have that right, Cullen, that’s why,” his brother stated softly. “She’s intuitive, smart and willing to train to be the best operative you could possibly have at this place. Instead, you turned her into a glorified personal assistant.” He shook his head as though amazed. “Though working for me can’t possibly be more dangerous than the job she’s taken chasing down rumors of Breeds and Council misfits.” His head tilted thoughtfully. “I believe she was nearly knifed in her latest skirmish. I’d have never allowed such a thing, of course, but until I learn who she’s working for, I can’t exactly discuss it with them. Can I?” He gave a light shrug and another of those knowing smirks. “Enjoy your evening, brother.”
With that, he turned his back and left the office.
Chelsea, nearly knifed? Even the insulting maneuver Graeme made by turning his back on him during a confrontation didn’t register as that information exploded in his head.
Chasing down rumors of hidden Breeds and Council misfits?
Were her cousins fucking insane to allow such a thing, especially after what had happened weeks before?
If his Breed genetics weren’t still comatose, he’d show all of them the error of their ways.
But they were comatose, Cullen reminded himself, fingers curling, aching with the need to hit something, that burning, hollow rage still beating a fierce tattoo through his brain. A recessed little snot—wasn’t that what Graeme had called him?
The bastard.
And he was right. His Breed genetics had become recessed when he was no more than ten and hadn’t reemerged. There were the odd moments of scent sensitivity, intuition and advanced strength, especially when he was angered. For the most part, he was no more Breed than any human walking down the street.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t show the members of the Breed Underground Network the risks in placing Chelsea in a position of danger.
Jerking his keys from his desk, he left the Underground offices, enduring the elevator ride to the parking garage, all the while his teeth grinding so tight his jaw ached.
No wonder he hadn’t heard anything about Chelsea in the past weeks. No fucking wonder no one dared give him the chance to ask about her. They knew he’d probably throw a punch at the messenger.
Not that he’d done that in a damned long time.
Unlike some Breeds—his brother, namely—he’d learned control in the past decade.
At least, until it came to Chelsea.
CHAPTER 3
From Graeme’s Journal
The Recessed Primal Breed
At its base, the male, whether human, animal or Breed, has a core nature equal to that of a sullen child denied a favored treat.
And the male can react accordingly—
The last thing Chelsea wanted to do was have dinner with Graeme Parker and his fiancée, her cousin Claire—or Cat, as she was now called.
Especially after her employer, Cassie Sinclair, texted with the night’s job.
The other woman had sent another list of locations for pictures, along with the best possible times to be in place.
What Cassie was searching for, Chelsea didn’t have a clue. She had to admit, though, the job was far more interesting than working as her father’s legal receptionist. She’d been bored to tears when she’d taken that particular job at sixteen. She simply couldn’t imagine taking it again.
Cassie’s offer of a job had been just what she needed. Especially in light of the fact that the other woman wanted to keep it completely secret that Chelsea was working for her. It was really going to look good on her résumé once the job was over.
“Dinner with Cullen’s brother, or work?” she muttered, staring at the addresses and lists of times on her e-pad.
She knew why Graeme had invited her to dinner; he was still trying to convince her to take the job as Cat’s personal assistant.
That was a job guaranteed to get her killed. Graeme and Cat weren’t exactly homebodies. They lived dangerous lives, especially Graeme if rumors were to be believed. And those particular rumors, Chelsea guessed, didn’t even come close to how dangerous Graeme actually was.