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by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Description: On the planet Faolchu, the Slandail Phoibli--the National Security--is populated entirely by the Modartha, the elite band of werewolves commanded by Colonel Crevan Byrne, known well beyond his own segment of the megaverse for being the toughest and most lethal of his kind. When Crevan Byrne saw Bailey MacKenna he knew at once that she was destined to be his and he would let nothing, and no one, come between him and what he wanted. There was but one fly in the ointment and that fly was scheduled to die within the week. Come the Summer Solstice, the Resistance leader Kona Doyle would meet his fate in the Central Plaza and with his death, the only man who had ever stolen a kiss from Bailey Byrne's sweet lips after she'd been claimed by the Mordartha would be no more. Rating: Spicy/Carnal--Adult language and situations
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2007 2007
eBookwise Release Date: November 2007
157 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [159 KB]
Reading time: 102-144 min.
Crevan Byrne glared at the deputy who had come reluctantly to report to him. The Modartha commander was beyond furious. He was livid and his emotions showed succinctly on his stone-cold face and were evidenced in the brutal tic that kept bunching in his lean jaw. The longer the deputy spoke, the more pronounced the tic became, and the silver of the commander's eyes turned a dark, stormy gunmetal color.
"We issued a full alert for his arrest, Milord, and..." the deputy said, swallowing hard for the merciless glower that pinned him where he stood was unnerving. It did not waver, and the chill coming from those icy eyes made him shiver.
"You let him get away," the man known by friends and enemies alike as Van stated in a soft, menacing tone. His fingers were drumming slowly on the desk top in a dangerously impatient rhythm. "The most wanted man on this planet and you just let him slip right through your fucking fingers!"
"There was an ambush as we were transferring him to the Teach Bás, Milord. His people killed two of our best men," the deputy defended his squad. "We did not expect them to..."
"Where the Resistance is involved, Lieutenant," Van interrupted him with a sneer, "you expect the unexpected for ten times out of ten that is what they will do." He sat back in his chair with a snort. "Did you send a team to Sionnach in case the bastard decided to flee back to his Homeworld?"
"Aye, Milord," the deputy replied. "The Portal Police have been carefully watching all ships into and out of our air space and..."
"Doyle is long gone, Lieutenant," Van snapped. "We'll have to hang his sorry ass another day." His gray eyes narrowed. "Get the hell out of my sight before I break you in half!"
Saluting smartly, the deputy got out of the commander's office as quickly as he could, his pale face glistening with sweat, his body trembling violently. He didn't notice the dark stain on his light gray uniform pants until he was standing in front of the Assistant to the Commander's desk.
"You've pissed yourself, O'Leary," Daniel Brewer said with a snort. "Go change your clothes, man."
"Aye, Milord A-C," Seamus O'Leary replied, his face a dull red as he hurried away.
Daniel got up from his desk with a curse and knocked once on Van's door before going inside. "What happened?" he asked, not bothering with protocol for he knew Van hated it between them.
"The fools let Doyle escape," Van snapped. "The Resistance took him as he was being transferred to the death house."
"Shite," Daniel spat. He took a seat in front of Van's desk. "We'll have a helluva time catching the slippery bugger again."
Van leaned back in his chair with his elbows on the thickly padded arms and steepled his fingertips together. "I'm not so sure. My guess is he'll try to contact my lady."
Daniel blinked. "The man can't have that much of a death wish, can he?"
"I know what I'd do if I were him, and there's no doubt in my mind he'll try to get in touch with Bailey," Van grumbled.
The A-C shook his head. "He couldn't be all that smart if he'd dare to come after your woman."
"It will be to our advantage," Van said, grinding his teeth. His silver eyes sparkled with malice. "His obsession with my lady."
Daniel had to look away from the brutal look those words caused in his boss. He was very glad at that moment that he wasn't Kona Doyle. "Do you have anything you need for me to do?"
Van replied that he didn't. "Keep an eye on the teams, and let me know if they get any word on Doyle's whereabouts," the Modartha said. He lowered his hands and pushed up from the chair. "I'll be home if you need me."
Striding out into the late afternoon sun, Van glanced around him at the tall buildings surrounding the Central Plaza where the scaffolding had already been erected for Doyle's execution. Somewhere within the scope of the soaring granite and steel constructions that towered above him, he was relatively sure the Resistance leader was hiding. It would have taken someone in power to have arranged the escape, someone with enough clout to stymie the Portal Police and hide Doyle's location from the law.
Frowning as he climbed aboard his turbo-powered motorcycle and adjusted the black full-face helmet comfortably, he felt a ripple of disquiet wiggle down his back and knew Doyle was watching from somewhere high above him. He resisted the urge to tilt his head back and look up, not wanting to give himself away.
"I will catch you, were-fox," Van said aloud. "It's only a matter of time."
From the fifty-second floor of the copper-colored glass Patterson Building, Kona Doyle observed his adversary kick start the motorcycle then full throttle it into the rushing traffic, mindless of the congestion and speeding vehicles as he wove his way recklessly along the expressway. "I suppose it is too much to ask that a ten-ton lorry run over him and squish him into so much mush," he complained to the man beside him.