“I . . . it was the woman.” Kevin’s voice was softer.

Jon glanced over his shoulder. “What woman?”

Kevin’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Th-the one from Genesis. Cassandra—”

Jon lunged and grabbed the guy’s shoulders. He lifted him up, forcing Kevin to look him straight in the eyes. “Are you telling me that Cassandra Armstrong was actually here, in Taboo?” He’d been ripping the country apart looking for her.

A grim nod. “That’s when the big guy attacked. When we shot at her.”

They’d shot at her, but she wasn’t there. Hell, no one was there anymore. Those who hadn’t ran out before the infiltration had crawled out when his men had retreated.

“He went wild when we shot at her,” Kevin told him with a quick nod.

Jon forced himself to release the other man. “Did he take her out?”

Kevin didn’t speak.

Because he didn’t know?

Fucking incompetence. Jon heaved out a sigh. “You didn’t see them leave, did you?”

Kevin wet his lips. “I was on fire then, sir.”

Like a little fire should have stopped him.

Jon whirled away. “Tell me that you had a tracker in that tranq you fired into Cassandra.” A new little invention, one that Uncle Sam was rather proud of—a drug and tracking combination bullet all in one. Some paranormals could flee even after the drug hit them. They had the strength to run, for a time.

But sooner or later, the drug got to them.

And when it did, the tracker came into play. It would light up in their system and lead Jon and his men right back to their prey.

Easy.

“Tell me,” he demanded without looking back. If the dumb bastard hadn’t done his job and gotten a track on Cassandra, Jon might just shoot the fool himself.

“There was a track in there,” Kevin said, his tone growing more confident. “She won’t be getting away from us.”

Hell, yes. But Jon didn’t smile, not yet. The tip that he’d received about the phoenix—and Cassandra—had been right. He’d have to be sure and reward his informant. First, though . . . “Burn this place to the ground.”

Taboo was far enough away from the hub of the city that most folks wouldn’t have heard or seen the attack. Just in case, he was used to covering his tracks.

The paranormals might be out in the world, trying to blend with humans, but they were also still hunted. Still targets, especially the walking, talking nightmares that stalked the earth.

Nightmares like the phoenix.

Some beings were too dangerous to live.

Some needed to be stopped, by any means necessary.

In this instance, the means was one Cassandra Armstrong. A weapon had never looked so innocent.

“Burn it.” The fire could always be blamed on the phoenix. “Then get me the track on Cassandra.”

She’d led him on a chase for months, but he’d have her soon. She wasn’t getting out of the program. She was too vital.

Too useful as a weapon.

He began to whistle as he walked out of the club.

Kevin and his men were pouring out alcohol and smashing the bottles, soaking the scene for one fine blaze. They wouldn’t make a fire that burned as hot as a phoenix’s flames, but they’d come close enough.

Close. Enough.

Jon kept whistling. I’m coming for you, Cassandra. She’d run from him, but their little cat and mouse game was almost at an end.

Cassandra should have known there would be no escape. Her father had brought her into the program years ago.

And once you were in, death was the only way out.

CHAPTER TWO

She was . . . not beautiful.

Dante told himself that even as he leaned toward her and let his fingers trail over the curve of her nose. A few freckles rested on the bridge of that nose. His finger slid to the side, tracing the curve of her cheekbone. Her face was oval, pale, and he didn’t like the dark shadows under her eyes.

She wasn’t beautiful.

He told himself that again . . . and realized he was such a liar. This woman, the woman who’d killed him in his dreams, had him staring at her like some kind of lovesick fool.

He pulled away from her and clenched his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t touch her again. They were in some two-bit, pay-by-the-hour motel room. She was spread out on the bed and he was beside her.

She was still out cold, and he was far too distracted by her body.

Far too—

Her eyelids began to flicker. His stupid heart beat faster.

Who is she to me?