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Brock had crossed the sunlit street in mere seconds, using the speed of his Breed genetics to carry him through the afternoon daylight, to the door of the tall federal building. He was just about to enter and make another swift dash, past security, when his keen hearing picked up the muffled pop of a gunshot some distance behind.

The parking garage.

He knew it even before he heard the crunch of shredding metal and the shrill squeal of tires spinning on pavement.

Jenna.

Although he had no blood bond with her to alert him that she was in danger, he felt the certainty of it clawing at his gut. She was no longer in the federal building but back in the garage, across the sunlit street.

Something had gone terribly wrong, and it had everything to do with TerraGlobal—with Dragos.

No sooner had the thought formed, when an unmarked gray Crown Vic burst from the garage exit. As the sedan roared away, he saw two men in the front seat. The passenger was pivoted around to face a single occupant in back.

No, not men—Minions.

And Jenna in the backseat, sitting stock-still, held at gunpoint.

Fury rolled through him like a tidal wave. His sights locked onto the car that held Jenna, he tore past crowds of milling humans on the walkway below the building, moving faster than anyone could track him.

He leapt across the hood of a standing taxi at the curb, then dodged a delivery truck that came up out of nowhere and would have run him down if he hadn’t been propelled by his Breed ability and fear for what might happen to Jenna if he didn’t reach her in time.

Heart hammering, he raced into the parking garage and jumped into the Rover.

Two seconds later, he was rocketing out into the street, defying the blaze of ultraviolet rays that poured in through the windshield as he sped off in Jenna’s direction, praying like hell that he could reach her before Dragos’s evil—or the baking afternoon sun—cost him the woman whose life was his to protect.

His woman, he thought fiercely, as he dropped his boot on the gas pedal and took off in pursuit.

CHAPTER

Twenty

Special Agent Green—or whoever, whatever, he really was—kept the Glock trained on her with a steady hand as the sedan weaved and lurched through the clotted New York City traffic. Jenna had no idea where they were taking her. She could only guess it was somewhere out of the city as they left the labyrinth of tall skyscrapers behind and headed onto a gothic-looking suspension bridge that spanned the width of a broad river.

Jenna sat back against the seat, jostling back and forth with each bump and acceleration. As the sedan leapt forward to pass a slower-moving vehicle, she was thrown off balance—enough so that she glanced up and caught an unexpected glimpse in the Crown Vic’s side mirror.

A black Range Rover was keeping pace with them, just a few cars back.

Jenna’s heart squeezed.

Brock. It had to be him.

But at the same moment, she hoped like hell it wasn’t. It couldn’t be—he would be foolish to risk it. The sun was still a giant ball of fire in the cold westerly sky, at least two hours from setting. Driving in full daylight would be suicide for one of Brock’s kind.

And yet, it was him.

When the sedan made another sidelong shift in the lane, Jenna checked the mirror again and saw the rigid set of his jaw across the traffic and distance that separated them. Although he wore dark wraparound sunglasses to protect his eyes, the opaque lenses weren’t dense enough to mask the ember-bright glow of his eyes.

Brock was behind them, and he was deadly furious.

“Son of a bitch,” Green muttered, peering over her head to look through the rear window of the vehicle. “We’ve got a tail.”

“You sure?” Cho asked, taking the opportunity to pass another car as they neared the other end of the bridge.

“I’m sure,” Green replied. A note of unease had crept into his otherwise unreadable face. “It’s a vampire. One of the warriors.”

Cho gunned the vehicle now. “Inform Master that