they weren’t prints, but real paintings. Given how old Jack was, that was more likely than it seemed.
“So,” Jack said, as we dumped the bags on the floor near the table. “How did Quinn discover the mission timetable had been moved up?”
“Through me.” I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Apparently the fact we’ve shared blood has given him greater access to my mind—shields or no shields.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “If that were the case, he’d be here, not heading to Genoveve.”
“You’ve got him under observation?” Rhoan asked.
Jack nodded. “We seconded several hawk-shifters from Overseas Operations recently to tail Gautier. One of them is currently on Quinn. He’d sense another vampire, even if we had a guardian who could go out in morning sunshine.”
Which was why Jack was so determined to set up a daytime division, with me, Rhoan, Kade, and Liander all as its chief operatives. Right now, the Directorate was very limited in its operational times, and not all the bad guys did the nasty stuff during the night.
“Quinn can only read my thoughts during times of stress or pleasure,” I explained. “So right now, no matter how much he tries, he hasn’t a hope of getting past my shield.”
Which wasn’t exactly the entire truth—he could actually touch my mind during sleep, as well. But I was pretty sure that was a connection that took both of us to form and went no deeper than a dream state.
And I have to say, the man gave amazing dream sex.
“We’d better hope he can’t,” Jack muttered. “Because I do not want him near this operation.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because he is only interested in revenge. We want to bring down the cartel’s entire operation.” He sat down on the chair nearest the com-unit and interlaced his fingers. “We had our first breakthrough about six weeks ago. You remember the letter Misha left you on his death?”
It was hard to forget, given the circumstances under which he’d died. A tremor ran through me. God, I still had nightmares about those watery spiders, and Misha being eaten alive from the inside. I licked my lips, and said, “He gave us the name of the fifth clone—Claudia Jones. But he didn’t know the alias she worked under at the Directorate.”
“We’ve since discovered she doesn’t actually work for us—though she does visit several times a month.”
The glint in his green eyes suggested amusement, but for the life of me, I couldn’t see why. I mean, there were thousands of people who visited the Directorate every month, all of them for legitimate reasons.
“She’s not one of Alan Brown’s whores, is she?” Rhoan said, a note of incredulity in his voice.
“Yes.”
I glanced at my brother. “How the hell did you jump to that conclusion?”
He just grinned and tapped the side of his head. “Brains, dear girl. Brains.”
I snorted softly. “I wasn’t aware that’s where you kept your brains.”
“Enough.” Jack touched a button on the keyboard, and the com-screen sprang to life. On it was a picture of a white-haired, white-skinned woman. She was extremely pretty and yet oddly ethereal, and there was an unearthly sense of power in her luminous blue eyes. “This is Claudia Jones.”
“She looks like I did—well, except for the eyes.” I looked across at Liander. “When you made me up for the raid into Brown’s office.”
He nodded. “She seemed to be one of his regulars, so we thought it would be less suspicious if you looked like her.”
“Of course, we weren’t to know that she was Gautier’s contact.” Jack pressed another button, and the woman’s picture gave way to porno—Brown fucking Jones in his office. As far as lovers went, the man had no finesse whatsoever—just got it out, shoved it in, and pumped away. Which was probably why he had to rely on prostitutes to relieve his sexual needs.
Jack froze the picture at the point of Brown getting his rocks off, and
“So,” Jack said, as we dumped the bags on the floor near the table. “How did Quinn discover the mission timetable had been moved up?”
“Through me.” I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Apparently the fact we’ve shared blood has given him greater access to my mind—shields or no shields.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “If that were the case, he’d be here, not heading to Genoveve.”
“You’ve got him under observation?” Rhoan asked.
Jack nodded. “We seconded several hawk-shifters from Overseas Operations recently to tail Gautier. One of them is currently on Quinn. He’d sense another vampire, even if we had a guardian who could go out in morning sunshine.”
Which was why Jack was so determined to set up a daytime division, with me, Rhoan, Kade, and Liander all as its chief operatives. Right now, the Directorate was very limited in its operational times, and not all the bad guys did the nasty stuff during the night.
“Quinn can only read my thoughts during times of stress or pleasure,” I explained. “So right now, no matter how much he tries, he hasn’t a hope of getting past my shield.”
Which wasn’t exactly the entire truth—he could actually touch my mind during sleep, as well. But I was pretty sure that was a connection that took both of us to form and went no deeper than a dream state.
And I have to say, the man gave amazing dream sex.
“We’d better hope he can’t,” Jack muttered. “Because I do not want him near this operation.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because he is only interested in revenge. We want to bring down the cartel’s entire operation.” He sat down on the chair nearest the com-unit and interlaced his fingers. “We had our first breakthrough about six weeks ago. You remember the letter Misha left you on his death?”
It was hard to forget, given the circumstances under which he’d died. A tremor ran through me. God, I still had nightmares about those watery spiders, and Misha being eaten alive from the inside. I licked my lips, and said, “He gave us the name of the fifth clone—Claudia Jones. But he didn’t know the alias she worked under at the Directorate.”
“We’ve since discovered she doesn’t actually work for us—though she does visit several times a month.”
The glint in his green eyes suggested amusement, but for the life of me, I couldn’t see why. I mean, there were thousands of people who visited the Directorate every month, all of them for legitimate reasons.
“She’s not one of Alan Brown’s whores, is she?” Rhoan said, a note of incredulity in his voice.
“Yes.”
I glanced at my brother. “How the hell did you jump to that conclusion?”
He just grinned and tapped the side of his head. “Brains, dear girl. Brains.”
I snorted softly. “I wasn’t aware that’s where you kept your brains.”
“Enough.” Jack touched a button on the keyboard, and the com-screen sprang to life. On it was a picture of a white-haired, white-skinned woman. She was extremely pretty and yet oddly ethereal, and there was an unearthly sense of power in her luminous blue eyes. “This is Claudia Jones.”
“She looks like I did—well, except for the eyes.” I looked across at Liander. “When you made me up for the raid into Brown’s office.”
He nodded. “She seemed to be one of his regulars, so we thought it would be less suspicious if you looked like her.”
“Of course, we weren’t to know that she was Gautier’s contact.” Jack pressed another button, and the woman’s picture gave way to porno—Brown fucking Jones in his office. As far as lovers went, the man had no finesse whatsoever—just got it out, shoved it in, and pumped away. Which was probably why he had to rely on prostitutes to relieve his sexual needs.
Jack froze the picture at the point of Brown getting his rocks off, and
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