Lance would have laughed at Jonas's expression if the situation weren't so dire. Harmony was so close to running. He could feel it in the air around him, hear her cry for freedom echoing in his head.
"Enough!" His voice rose as Jonas opened his lips to speak. "He's a f**king ass**le and we all know it, Harmony. But we can't kill him. We deal with him."
"I'll be certain to extend my thank-yous later," Jonas murmured.
"Stuff them," Lance barked, wrapping his fingers around Harmony's wrist to hold her in place. Her gun hand. Her fingers were twitching too close to her weapon. Merc, Lawe and Rule were watching closely. Lance knew their entire focus was on Harmony and the attempt they believed she would make to run.
"I'll give you the files I have on him," Harmony said, bargaining then, surprising Lance. "I can get them quickly. You'll have them."
"They won't have what we need, Harmony." He shook his head firmly. "We need the Leo. And we need him now."
Jonas was pushing her and Lance knew it. He was trying to make her run. He wanted her to run. It was one of the reasons Lance had stayed largely quiet to this point. There was information in what wasn't said, in the emotions that whispered through the air.
"Sit." He pushed Harmony into his seat as she stared back at him in surprise. Leaning close, he stared into her oddly colored, furious eyes. "Silence," he said softly, commandingly. "Now."
Her lips pressed together as fire lit her gaze.
"I won't—"
"Now!" Something snapped inside him. He would be damned if he would let her endanger her life. Not now. Not when she was close to freedom.
She jerked back in the seat, staring at him warily.
"Thank you." He touched her cheek gently, running his fingertips down her jaw before straightening and turning back to Jonas.
The other man watched the exchange warily.
"Are you willing to burn this bridge?" Lance placed his hands on his desktop. "I hear Megan has become very close to your pride leader's wife. She's also not your best fan." Jonas crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm aware of that."
"Do you really want to make enemies of my entire family, Jonas?" he asked him carefully. "Did you consider that when you were having your little science project conducted in whether Harmony and I would match as mates? That you would not only gain my hatred, but also that of my families?"
Jonas's silver eyes narrowed, burning in his dark face.
"I will do whatever is necessary to save the Breeds, Lance," he growled. "I will fight whoever or whatever I have to. She wouldn't trust me; that is evident. And until the mating and conception had occurred, I couldn't trust you. Now it's up to you and Harmony. Do you help me capture Leo, or do you risk the world learning about mating heat, and possibly destroying your wife, child and your cousin Megan in the process?"
"And if she doesn't do it, then you won't lift your hand to help her?" Lance prodded. Jonas stared back at Harmony for long, silent moments.
"I would die for my sister. But once the truth about mating heat becomes known, if we're not prepared for it, if we don't have the answers we need to give the public, then I won't be able to save anyone. Not myself, my people or my sister."
__________
Dane chewed on the end of his cigar as he watched H. R. Alonzo move among the protestors in front of the Sheriff's Department. It was really hard to imagine the man as a distant uncle. The heavy jowls, short stature and beady little eyes didn't lend much to the Vanderale name. He wasn't a Vanderale though, he was the son of a Vanderale daughter, and it was apparent the genetics hadn't made a successful crossover. Too bad actually. A true Vanderale, though mercenary at heart and too determined to have his way, did have a small measure of decency. It was obvious that the genetics Henry Richard Alonzo had been given were missing that component.
He was an uncle, though. He was the grandson of the man whose sperm had created the first Leo. Elijah Vanderale Demarcy and his wife had given birth to a daughter, then Elijah had turned his attention to the Genetics Council and creating his vision of the perfect son. After all, his wife had refused to bear more children, and as old Vanderale Demarcy had told Leo, a son meant everything. Elijah had been determined to sire a son unlike any other. No matter what it took.
His arrogance and sense of superiority had never been in question. His determination to have a son stronger, more intelligent and unique than any other, could have defined him as mad.
Elijah's seed, genetically altered though it had been, had begun the process. Then he had set about creating an empire for his son. Vanderale Enterprises. A conglomerate of corporations headed by a supposed distant relative. His vision had been remarkably insightful toward the future. Electronics, weapons and specialized vehicles. Dane shook his head at the old man's vision. He had died not long after Leo's escape from the labs, but he had died knowing he'd given his son freedom and that his son would always know security.
That had been more than sixty years before. Vanderale Enterprises was a thriving, worldwide force now, though the man behind it had always been careful to stay hidden. Unfortunately, somehow the Alonzos had learned of old Elijah's contribution to the Genetics Council, and his kinship to the Breeds. Poor gents, they were rather upset over it all.
"Leo is getting antsy," Ryan murmured as he moved into the cafe booth across from him. "He wants an update on her. Now."
Great. The old man wanted an update. That usually meant he was roaring from one end of the estate to the other and threatening to head to Broken Butte himself. This was his fault, Dane admitted. The first time he had found Harmony, wounded, nearly broken, out of her mind with fever, he had taken her to his mother. Hell, he was no doctor. His mother had at one time been the foremost authority on Breed genetics and ailments. She had been the perfect answer.
Except, as Harmony lay in a fevered haze and cried as the child she was, it had been Leo who sat with her. Who cried with her. Now the old man thought of her as his own. And no one threatened what belonged to Leo Vanderale. If such a person lived, it was only so he could regret it.
He stared back at Ryan silently, narrowing his eyes chastisingly as he read the guilt on his friend's face. Amusement lurked in Rye's dark eyes as he pushed darker hair back from his forehead.