The exit led to a cement tunnel that came out several blocks away from the Bureau into a parking garage. There, she watched as two Coyote Breeds separated themselves from the shadows to meet him.
She knew the two Breeds. His partners, Mutt and Mongrel. God, she was going to have to discuss names with them.
“Brannigan just received confirmation of receipt of the petition and was given the go-ahead to have your mate taken to the doctors until the Breed Ruling Cabinet could convene,” Mutt reported as Dog opened the back of the Desert Dragoon and threw his pack inside. “The order was given for retesting alone, but I doubt Rhyzan will pay much attention to it.”
“Why the labs?” Cassie questioned them. “There’s no reason that I’d be kept there.”
“He gave Sobolova and Armani orders to come up with a hormone that would counteract what he called your infection,” Mutt said, sneering. “He wants to give whatever hormone he carries a chance to ensure a mating.”
Disbelief filled her. That wasn’t possible. In all the years of mating, nothing had been found that could counteract Mating Heat.
“He’s insane,” she hissed, her gaze going to Dog as he watched her quietly. “That’s not possible.”
“Not with Wolves or felines,” Mongrel drawled. “Seems they think it might be possible for a short amount of time with Coyote DNA. Though it seems Sobolova and Armani are currently threatening Rule Breaker and Jonas Wyatt with formal protests for attempting it.”
“Let’s go.” Dog jerked open the passenger door of the four-seat armored desert all-terrain vehicle and all but pushed her inside.
The other two climbed into the back while Dog strode around to the driver’s side and slid inside. Within seconds, the Dragoon was pulling out of the garage and heading away from Window Rock.
“Where are we going?” God, she prayed she wasn’t making a mistake.
She was alone with three of the most notorious Council Breeds she knew of. She was a mate as well as the one Breed the Genetics Council had been attempting to snatch since she was nine years old.
“Where Rhyzan can’t touch you,” Dog said with a grunt, watching the night as the Dragoon’s lights cut a swath through the darkness.
“And where would that be?” she asked, staring at him, trying to hold on to his earlier declaration that he would die before being separated from her.
A chuckle from the back seemed to mock her fear.
“She thinks you’re going to turn her over to the Council, Dog,” Mutt announced, far too amused.
“She knows better,” Dog muttered, but she saw the narrow-eyed look he shot her. “She’d be with Rhyzan if that’s what she thought. Wouldn’t you?”
She tried to swallow past the uncertainty tightening her throat.
“I would,” she answered him firmly, rather than giving voice to that uncertainty. “That doesn’t mean I don’t expect to know what the hell you’re going to do. I’m not a child or a simpleton and I’m fully capable of contributing to whatever you have planned if I know what the plan is.”
Being kept in the dark just make her crazy now. Before, the answers she’d needed had always been available, and if not the answers, at least an assurance of safety or danger. Those ghostly forms no longer came to her, though, and the uncertainty of what was coming was about to break her control.
“Well, it’s not exactly a plan.” He flashed her a grin, leaned back in his seat and extracted a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it. “You could say we’re flying by our asses here.”
The scent of the tobacco wasn’t harsh or acrid, and if she wasn’t mistaken it was the same type of cigar and tobacco that Dane Vanderale smoked. And Dane exclusively smoked the slender rolled tobacco that one of the Vanderale companies made in Africa.
He was smoking Vanderale cigars. How the hell did he get them? She knew for a fact that particular brand of tobacco was made for Dane exclusively. It wasn’t imported and couldn’t be bought. And Dane didn’t supply just anyone with them, especially Council Breeds.
“It’s not exactly a plan,” she repeated quietly. “Do you exactly know where we’re going?”
“Pretty much,” he drawled, that amusement in his tone becoming irritating.
“Is this a guessing game?” she snapped, reaching out and snagging the cigar long enough to take a draw herself to confirm her suspicions about where it had come from.
It was smooth; the hint of cherry mixed with a flavor that reminded her of cognac flowed over her senses. Holding the cylinder between two fingers, she placed it between his lips once again, ignoring the surprise that had obviously rendered the three men silent.
Lifting his hand, he pulled the cigar free long enough to glance at it, then suddenly grinned again before returning it between his lips and increasing the speed of the Dragoon.
“Did you guess?” He shot her a knowing look.
The two Breeds behind them were completely silent, completely intent on what was going on in front of them.