“And if you die doing this your way? What about the grief you leave behind? The loss?” he demanded.
What could he say or do to make her understand how much it would hurt to lose her in such a way?
“And what about my grief?” Her question had his eyes narrowing on her in confusion.
Her eyes were filled with that grief, with a tormented hurt and longing whose cause he didn’t understand.
“You want me to deny who I am, what lives inside me.” One hand lifted from the steering wheel to press between her breasts. “You want me to deny the dreams I’ve had all my life. Deny who and what I am. It’s no different than imprisoning me while you ride off into the sunset to do it all yourself. Why don’t you spend the next two years doing my filing while I do your job, and see how well you like it?”
His jaw clenched to the point that his teeth ached. She was right, and he knew she was right. She had been right for years, yet each time he’d considered giving her a place on Ops or Command, he’d forced himself to pull back. Neither position was secure enough to make him feel confident that she was safe.
“It’s what you wanted,” he growled instead. “Command is what you wanted, Chelsea.”
“Not at the price you’re asking,” she cried out. “It was what I wanted when I was with the Agency. What I wanted before I left and learned how much I enjoy working with people who actually consider the possibility that I might know what I’m doing.”
As his lips parted to reply, lights cut through the back window of the truck and Cullen recognized the Agency Dragoon pulling in behind them. Dammit, he didn’t need this. This wasn’t finished. He hadn’t touched her, tasted her again. He hadn’t found a way to convince her to drop whatever she was doing until he could figure out why some damned Council-bred Coyote had come after her with a knife.
With a muttered curse he stepped from the truck and strode to the Dragoon as Ranger stepped from the powerful desert-capable law enforcement vehicle.
“What?” he snarled.
Ranger’s dark brow lifted in surprise. “The Peterson op is heating up. We need to get Command in place and get ready for that buy, Cullen. Our window in is limited. We’re going to have to roll.”
“Fuck!” They’d been working that op for six months. A small Coyote Breed unit they were working with was setting up a drug buy with one of the bigger movers in the West. He couldn’t afford to drop the ball on this one. “Give me a minute. Have the unit ready to roll and get Dog on the radio. I’ll be right back.”
The Coyote, Dog, was their eyes and ears in the small group of Genetics Council Coyotes selling the drugs. Working with the other Breed had made this operation move incredibly fast. Cullen knew if they lost this opportunity, then the Genetics Council would receive an influx of cash that would fund more operations against free Breeds than Cullen wanted to contemplate.
Chelsea was stepping from the truck as he turned back and strode to her. Her expression, despite the mutinous set, was disillusioned, though, the hurt still lingering.
“This isn’t over,” he assured her, reaching out to grip her upper arm and pull her to him. His arm went around her waist, his head lowered and before she could resist he let his tongue taste her lips, then pushed between the curves and claimed her mouth with a kiss he was craving.
There was no time to sate himself, no time to claim her, but he’d be damned if he’d let her forget what was burning between them.
Forcing himself to pull back, he glared down at her for a moment before releasing her. Turning, he stalked back to the Dragoon, waved Ranger to the passenger side and slid into the driver’s seat.
God only knew how long this was going to take.
As they reversed from the driveway and accelerated away from the house, he pulled his sat phone from the clip at his belt and hit speed dial.
“Do you know what fucking time it is?” his brother snapped as he answered the call.
“You’re obviously still awake,” he pointed out in annoyance. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”
“You’re getting too uppity for those recessed genetics of yours,” Graeme groused. “What the hell do you want?”
Cullen ground his teeth before once again smothering a growl.
“I’m going to be out of town for a while. I’m not certain how long,” he informed the other man. “Put a shadow on Chelsea for me.”
“She has two,” Graeme reminded him irritably. “And you told me to keep my nose out of it.”
“Then make it three, dammit,” he snarled. “Keep her safe, Graeme; it’s no less than I did for you.”
Silence filled the line for long seconds before he heard a heavy sigh.
“I did that when I heard of the attack,” Graeme finally admitted. “And if you want to know what she’s doing, check with Rule Breaker, the new director of the Western Division of the Bureau of Breed Affairs. According to my informant she’s working with his Covert Breed Management Division, currently headed by that little witch Cassandra Sinclair. And I just received that information a few hours ago, before you start snarling your displeasure that I might have been holding back on you.”
The Covert Breed Management Division?