Page 28 of Warrior's Captive
“Fine. Transmit the details as soon as you have them.” Tai’ri signed off. “Comm, connect Banujani.” Insects traveled up and down his spine and he grit his teeth. Everything in him urged him to go to Vivian, ensure she was safe. But the best thing he could do was continue to hunt down their enemies, and trust his team to protect her.
They would give their lives for her, Tai’ri was certain of it.
“Sir,” Banujani said.
“Vivian?”
“Perimeter is secure, everything is quiet. Vivian recently retired for a nap.”
“Remain vigilant. Someone’s coming for her. I’ll brief you fully when I return.”
“Copy.”
Tai’ri left the virtual closet. Evvek looked up. “He’s biting. Says he'll message with a time for a showing sometime this week.”
Tai’ri stiffened. “How can he arrange a showing that soon when Vivian is safe at home?”
“We justthinkshe’s the one being targeted.”
“Unless he has other females he can put in her place until he has her.”
Evvek shrugged. “Doesn’t even have to be that. Just marketing. Advertise something sweet to get nibbles, then reel the clients in with your real stock. Hope they don’t notice the lights are a little dim. They guarantee good health for at least ninety days, after all.”
Tai’ri grimaced. They were talking about people, but it didn’t help to focus on that. The thought that other females were still enslaved chilled him. It was so much more personal now, even though it had always been personal.
But now . . . it hit him home in the gut in a way it hadn’t before.
He didn’t needmoremotivation to take down the broker and his supplier, but motivation kept getting rammed down his throat.
* * *
Vivian roused, feeling eyes on her even in her sleep. She shifted on the couch, wincing a little at her sore hips, and looked up. Tai’ri leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.
She didn’t quite know how to greet him. He wasn’t her husband or cohabitation partner. Or even her boyfriend. But he was even closer than that, the father of her child. A stranger, and yet after a week of living in the same home . . . not really a stranger.
“Good evening,” she said, settling on the simplest greeting. “Have you been here long?”
“No.”
She’d learned over the days to gauge his moods. Though he was always kind, gentle, some evenings the gentleness was edged with something she couldn’t quite define. As if he held back a maelstrom. He didn’t frighten her but it would be foolish to ignore that suppressed darkness.
Tonight, he stared at her unblinking, his stillness predatory. Her heart rate increased, and she licked her bottom lip, hesitating. “Is something wrong?”
He finally blinked, then straightened. “No. You took a walk today.”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t left the house in a week.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“No.”
“Then is there a problem?”
He shook his head and pushed away from the counter, approaching to crouch at her feet. “No. The exercise is good for you.”
Her back tensed. She didn’t have the energy for this. Something was wrong, but if he didn’t want to share, that was his prerogative. “I agree. I think I’ll go to bed now.”
