“Which is the only reason I’m questioning it now,” Niko confessed, leaning his throbbing head against the seat. “You can’t kick my ass when I’m hurt.”

“Don’t count on it.” With an evil grin, Arel shoved the truck in gear and took off like a bat out of hell. “Hold on.”

“Shit.” Niko braced his hands against the glove compartment, clenching his teeth as the truck swerved around a corner and bounced across a shallow ditch to head straight across an empty field. “Is there something wrong with the road?”

“Shut up,” Arel muttered, his gaze shifting between the dark field and the map on his phone.

Niko bit his tongue, closing his eyes so he could try and concentrate on recuperating his strength. Dylan had clearly gone over the edge. There was no reasoning, no hope of compromise with the female.

This was going to be a fight to the death.

He managed to maintain his silence until Arel rammed through a fence at a hundred miles an hour and nearly sent them into the lake.

No one was more anxious than he was to get to Angela. No one. But he was just beginning to shake off the effects of the shockwave. He couldn’t afford to be injured before he even reached Dylan.

“I could drive,” he rasped.

Arel slowed as they neared the signal still blinking on the GPS.

“Has anyone told you that you have control issues?”

Always.

“Never,” he lied as Arel pulled the truck to a halt just outside a trailer park.

“Dylan’s close,” Arel murmured, his nose wrinkling at the stench of garbage and human misery. “Damn. Why here?”

Niko allowed his gaze to search the heavy shadows that shrouded the park, briefly puzzled by the tug of awareness that flowed through him.

Was this a new trick of Dylan’s?

Then, as the sensation settled deep in his heart, he realized this was no trick.

And it had nothing to do with Dylan.

“Niko?”

Belatedly realizing that Arel was studying him with a worried gaze, Niko returned his attention to their grim surroundings.

“If she intended to have a hostage she would want to be isolated from nosy neighbors.”

“True.” Arel pointed across the narrow parking lot. “There’s her car. Stay here and I’ll find out which trailer she’s in.”

“No need.” Niko nodded toward the trailer set a short distance from the others. “It’s that one.”

Arel turned to frown at him. “How can you be sure?”

Niko pressed a hand to the center of his chest. “I can feel Angela.”

Arel’s golden eyes widened in shock.

On very rare occasions a high-blood could be so deeply connected to another that they formed a bond that could be felt on a physical level.

Niko had always pitied the poor schmucks who allowed themselves to be melded. Why would anyone want to be leashed for their entire lives?

It was . . . abnormal.

Now, he accepted he hadn’t known a damned thing.

This wasn’t a leash, and it certainly wasn’t abnormal.

It was as perfect and natural as breathing.

Angela completed him.

Yeah, yeah. It was sappy. But that’s exactly how he felt.

“It’s gone that far?” Arel growled, not nearly as pleased as Niko by the unexpected gift.

Niko smiled, shoving open the door of the truck so he could jump out to stand on the dirt path.

“So it would seem.”

Arel cursed, hurriedly moving to stand at Niko’s side. “You still need to stay here while I scout out the best way to stage an attack.”

“There’s no strategy.” His gaze searched the trailer for any hidden traps. “I’ll go in the front door and while Dylan is distracted you’ll go in from the back and rescue Angela.”

In less than a heartbeat Arel was standing directly in front of him, his hands planted on his hips and his expression set in stubborn lines.

“No.”

Niko narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to pull rank, but I will.”

“You’re no longer in charge of this mission,” Arel reminded him in sharp tones. “I am.”

“I’m taking back command.”

“Goddammit, Niko. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Niko refused to back down. “I’m thinking clearly enough to know I’m going to kill that bitch.”

“How?” Arel snapped. “There’s no way in hell you could survive another hit from her weapon.”

Niko couldn’t deny the blunt truth. It’d been a miracle that his heart had restarted after the first shock. The chance it could endure another blast . . . it was pretty much zero to none.

But it didn’t change a damned thing.

He was going to do whatever it took to get Angela out of that trailer safe and sound.

Whatever it took.

“I’m prepared this time,” he tried to reassure his companion. “She won’t have a chance to shoot me.”

“Niko—”

Growingly anxious to reach Angela, Niko didn’t wait to hear Arel’s arguments. He understood his friend’s concerns. Hell, he even agreed with them.

He was emotionally compromised and physically weakened. But none of that mattered.

Not now.

“Let’s do this thing,” he said, heading directly toward the trailer.

Dylan would sense his approach before he could reach the door. There was no point in being subtle.

Besides, he wanted the bitch focused on him. That was the only way Arel would be able to slip in unnoticed.

“Goddammit.” Arel moved to walk beside him. “If you get yourself killed I swear I’ll drag your sorry ass back from the grave.”

Niko grimaced. “Not even a necro can perform that miracle.”

Necromancers—or diviners—couldn’t actually manipulate the dead, although they were capable of entering the recently deceased’s minds to view their last thoughts.

“I’ll travel to hell myself if I have to,” Arel muttered.

Niko turned to meet his friend’s worried gaze. “Just promise me that you’ll make sure Angela is safe, no matter what happens.”

The lean face tightened, as if Arel was struggling against the urge to continue his futile argument. Then, heaving a sigh of resignation, he clapped Niko on his shoulder.

“You know you don’t even have to ask, amigo. I’ve always considered you my brother. How could I treat your woman as anything less than my sister?”

It was exactly what he’d expected, but he needed to hear the words spoken out loud.

“Thank you.” He returned his attention to the trailer. “Now go.”

Waiting until Arel had jogged to the back of the lot, Niko stepped onto the pavement that marked the edge of the park, a humorless smile curling his lips as the door to the trailer was thrown open and Dylan confronted him with an infuriated scowl.

“How the hell did you find me?” she snarled.

Niko hid his shudder of relief as he caught Angela’s scent. He could smell her terror. It spiced the air. But on the plus side her heart was still beating and there was no hint of blood.

Thank the gods.

“Ah, Dylan.” He forced a mocking smile to his lips. “Long time, no see.”

Her eyes glowed like pits of hell in the moonlight. “I asked you a question.”

He halted several feet away, but Dylan remained firmly lodged in the doorway. Dammit. He needed to lure her away from the trailer. Something easier said than done.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m the better Sentinel?” He deliberately prodded her pride. “It doesn’t matter where you go or how hard you try to hide, I will always find you.”

She stroked her fingers over the weapon still strapped around her forearm.

“Not if you’re dead.”

“Fool me once, shame on you.” He curled his forefinger in invitation. “Aren’t you going to come out and play?”

She leaned against the doorjamb. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Afraid?”

“Too well trained to fall for such an obvious trap.” She sniffed the air. “Where is Arel? Trying to sneak in the back door?”

Niko’s smile never faltered despite his stab of fear. The bitch was supposed to be attacking him, not remaining lodged in the trailer like a rabid guard dog.

So how did he convince her that she had no choice but to fight?

By proving that the risk of leaving Arel and me alive is too great . . .

The thought seared through his mind at the same time he was struck by inspiration.

There was only one thing that Dylan feared.

And that was losing her one chance to be made normal.

She had to believe her dreams were about to be shattered.

Niko folded his arms across his chest, trying to look nonchalant.

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away before we could finish this.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Dylan flared her flat nose in what he assumed was disdain. “Or your devoted sycophant.”