Page 73 of Marked By Moonlight

“That’s right.”

“Did you get the plates?” Cooper asked.

“No.”

Cooper shook his head. “You’re not using your head. How are you going to find her? You might need a little more to go on than a silver Tahoe.”

True. Gideon didn’t know anything beyond the legend of Darius. But he couldn’t just sit around and wait. “NODEAL has records. I can run through the profiles in the database—”

“No,” Cooper cut in. “You can’t.”

Gideon cocked his head.No?

“You’re suspended, Gideon,” Cooper decreed, his mouth a hard, unsmiling line. “Until further review. You’re denied access to the database.”

“I have to find—”

“Oh, we will find her. We’ll find both of them. NODEAL will take care of business. Like always. Only without you,” Cooper assured him, nodding. “Your involvement in the organization ends here.”

Gideon flung the whiskey bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall with a loud crash. Glass rained down on the floor. The amber liquid would undoubtedly stain his white wall, but he couldn’t rouse any concern.

“Was her fate ever in doubt?” Cooper asked quietly. “Did you really think you could save her?”

“How would I know? I’ve been trained to destroy. Not help.”

Cooper inhaled slowly. “She’s not your mother, Gid.”

“No, my mother’s dead. And damned,” Gideon snarled. “No one tried to help her. Oh, except you. You were there, ready with a bullet.”

“Maybe I didn’t save her soul. But I always took comfort in the fact that I helped you and your sister. I thought that meant something.” Cooper lifted one shoulder in a shrug and pushed off the door. “Use the time off. Think things over.” He tapped his head. “Like what you want to do with the rest of your life. Because your days at NODEAL are over. There’s no way the board will keep you on.”

“I don’t give a shit about the board. I don’t need their sanction to—”

“Gideon,” Cooper’s hand grasped his shoulder, his eyes hard. “We don’t tolerate rogue operators.”

Gideon shrugged free of his hand. “I will find her.”

Cooper shook his head. “You’ll fail. Maybe even get yourself killed in the process. Then I’ll find her and destroy her.” Cooper’s dark gaze drilled into him. “And until then others will die.” He jabbed the air inches from Gideon’s chest. “All because of you.”

Gideon looked Cooper square in the eyes. For years, he had revered him, emulated him, wanted to be just like him. Only very recently his wants had taken a drastic change.

“I’ll find her,” Gideon vowed. “She’s my responsibility.”

Cooper turned into the hallway.

Gideon’s voice stopped him at the top of the stairs. “And Cooper—stay out of my way.”

Wordlessly, Cooper disappeared down the stairs. Moments later the back door slammed.

Alone in his room, Gideon stared unseeingly at the amber liquid running down his wall and dribbling to the floor. He didn’t doubt that if he didn’t find Claire, Cooper would. That’s what he did best—hunt lycans.

Gideon couldn’t let that happen. He was responsible for her. Curling his bloody hand into a fist, he made a decision—hard as it was. No one would destroy Claire but him. Even if in destroying her, he destroyed himself.

Cooper or any other agent would do it mechanically, coldly, without compassion. Just another assignment. Since that first night the job belonged to him. Claire belonged to him. As much as he belonged to her.

No more. She deserved compassion at the end. She deserved to be held in someone’s arms when she died. In the arms of someone who loved her. Yet as he grabbed his holster, hope niggled in the back of his mind, a stubborn ember that wouldn’t cool and die.

Maybe. Just maybe there was still a chance.

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