Page 30 of Viken Command

“Whe

re is she?” Our temporary home was empty, with no sign of Whitney. Every instinct had been screaming at me that something was wrong ever since we’d been at the weapons stash planting tracking beacons in each of the crates. They operated on a specific, very small frequency that only the I.C. could track.

This part of the mission was now complete, thank fuck. Once those crates—and those attached beacons—took off into deep space and the weapons were sold, the I.C. could track each and every delivery… and take out the criminals and killers buying them.

Still, we had to complete the fucking mission. We knew where the weapons were being held, but not by whom. We also had no idea who might show up to take them away.

Whoever appeared to load them up and sell them were Helion’s problem, not ours. But we did need to be there. We had to find out who was running this operation on the ground. Which member of the Viken world had become a traitor. And he had to be stopped.

We’d found the weapons cache, but there had been too many crates, too many weapons and not enough time to plant all the beacons. We’d had no choice but to leave Whitney for a little while or lose this perfect window of opportunity to finish that part of the job. To scramble and get it done. But my skin had been crawling with dread, with worry for our mate the entire time we’d left her alone. I’d ignored the feeling of foreboding, done my duty, and resisted the urge to run back to her, check on her, make sure she was safe. I’d done my fucking job for the I.C. instead of caring for my mate, and now she was gone.

Teig, being Teig, tried to keep us all calm. “She probably got hungry and went down to the dining area.”

“No.” Alarr’s frown echoed my own sentiments as he turned to find the cream-colored dress we’d removed from her earlier still crumpled on the floor, forgotten. “Something is wrong.”

Where was she? And what was she wearing? We hadn’t taken the time to help her master the S-Gen machine, so her only option would have been… “By the gods, this is my fault.”

Teig and Alarr both turned to look at me, but it was Alarr who spoke. “What are you referring to?”

I ran my hand over the short spikes of my hair and wished it was long enough to pull. Hard. What a fucking idiot. “She was wearing my shirt.”

Alarr’s eyes darkened. “Our mate is walking around wearing nothing but your shirt?”

I groaned. As bad as that idea was, my next statement was going to make both Alarr and Teig extremely unhappy. “My I.C. recording disk was in the pocket.”

Alarr’s head snapped around to look at the table where the disk he’d been watching with our mate earlier still innocently rested. “No.”

“What? One of you tell me what the fuck is going on.” Teig had lost his composure after all. He began to pace.

Much as I would enjoy toying with him for once, when it came to our female, I was all business. “The disk in my shirt pocket contained the recording of our meeting with the low-level thugs we encountered the other night.” We’d recorded that meeting, hoping the minions would lead us to their master. But they’d been much craftier than we’d expected, and we had yet to discover who the mastermind was behind the smuggling ring. Helion suspected Commander Clive, but Alarr refused to move on the male without proof. Clive was Viken. A respected fighter in the war. We couldn’t afford to go after him without solid proof. I’d recorded the meeting with the minions and uploaded the information to Helion, but the disk? Fuck. It had been in my pocket, in the shirt I’d wrapped around Whitney.

Alarr swore under his breath.

“Are you a complete fool? Why would you give that to her?” Teig demanded.

That was the most important question. I wasn’t going to admit that I’d forgotten all about the disk because I’d been completely entranced by our mate earlier today. That watching her surrender to me in the hut had driven me mad with lust and need and more emotion than I’d felt in years. That being around her caused me to focus on her to the exclusion of all else.

I hadn’t meant for her to discover the recording, that disk was one small part the evidence we’d given to Helion so he could track down the remaining scum once our primary mission of tagging the shipment was complete. I had been distracted by the smooth length of her legs, the wet heat of her body. The way she’d chosen an alien fruit to be her safe word and trusted me to honor it even before Alarr’s arrival. I’d been enchanted. Distracted. And I’d ruined everything.

“What have I done? If she watched that, she thinks we’re the arms dealers.”

Teig’s face shifted from frustration to horror.

“How would she know what to think?” Alarr asked. “We protected her. Told her nothing. She doesn’t even know there is an issue on Viken.”

I sighed, knowing that right now, our mate was in pain, and her suffering was due to my carelessness. I glanced down at the glossy wood floor. “She does.”

“How?” Teig asked.

“Because when we met with Queen Leah, the queen told our mate that the kings were working to hunt down some illegal arms dealers on Viken selling Coalition weapons.”

“Fuck.” Teig lifted his hand to his chest as if he couldn’t breathe. “We should have told her the truth from the beginning. Damn Helion and his orders.”

“It gets worse,” I continued, dying a little inside with every word I shared. “The queen specifically told Whitney that they’d tracked the dealers to this resort and that they suspected someone in the security detail.”

“So, our female believes that we not only lied to her, but that we are vile criminals responsible for dealing death and destruction for profit.” Alarr dropped into a crouch, and I understood as I, too, felt too anxious to sit. Anxious? Perhaps that was not the correct word. Sick.

“Where would she have gone?” Teig asked, looking around as if she might be hiding behind a curtain or beneath the bed.

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