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touched her cheeks before she was roughly pushing away from the door and pacing toward the cage.
    “Why doesn’t Caine just kill you?”
    He paused, struck by her pertinent question. “I don’t know.”
    “I thought the King of Weres knew everything?”
    He cast a disgusted glance toward the locked door of his cage.
    “Obviously not.”
    She unconsciously rubbed her arms, as if trying to rid herself of the tangible electricity that pulsed between. His lips twisted.
    Ah, if only it were that simple.
    “You said that my sisters and I were stolen from a nursery?” she demanded.
    “Si.” Salvatore grimaced. Far too late he realized he’d been played the fool. “At first I assumed it was traditional baby snatchers who were out to make a quick buck on the black market. Now I suspect it’s a calculated plot intended to destroy the Weres.”
    “And you think Caine’s involved?”
    “Without a doubt.”
    She nodded, as if not particularly surprised by Caine’s treachery.
    “What happened in Hannibal?”
    “Short or long version?”
    “Short.”
    “After years of searching, I tracked your sister Regan to a psychotic imp named Culligan who’d been torturing her for the past thirty years.” He shrugged. “Not surprisingly, she went a bit homicidal when I released her, and she tracked Culligan to Hannibal where Caine’s minions first tried to capture her, and then tried to kill her.”
    “Which minions?”
    She was testing him. Whether it was to discover if Caine was lying or he was, it was impossible to say.
    “Sadie was the leader. Regan killed her. Then there was Duncan, who intended to lead me to this lair.” His jaw tightened. “Unfortunately, Caine and his pet jinn got there first.”
    Her lips parted, no doubt with yet another question, then there was the sound of a click and abruptly she was spinning on her heel and rushing back to the door.
    She grasped the door handle and futilely attempted to pull it open.
    “Shit,” she muttered.
    Salvatore was on instant alert. “What?”
    Before his companion could answer, the sound of Caine’s voice echoed through a speaker set in the corner of the ceiling.
    “I did warn you, sweet Harley,” the cur mocked. “I wanted to keep you out of this, but you wouldn’t listen.”
    “No…” She pounded her fists against the steel door. “Caine.”
    “Harley, what the hell is going on?” Salvatore demanded.
    “Damn you.” She pointed a finger toward Salvatore. “This is all your fault.”
    Salvatore snorted. His fault? He was locked in a damned silver cage in the middle of nowhere, and it was his fault?
    It wasn’t until he caught the first whiff of gas that he at last understood Harley’s outrage.
    Something was being pumped into the basement.
    Something powerful enough to make his knees buckle and the world go black.
     
    Although the large wooden cabin was less than fifty miles north of St. Louis, it would have taken more than a GPS to find the house.
    Not only was there acres of thick trees and a high fence that protected the estate, there was also a spell of Concealment that had been woven by the local coven of witches. If that wasn’t enough, there were large lethal wolves that prowled the outer perimeter and ate anyone who accidentally stumbled too close.
    Caine had deliberately chosen this cabin to hide his unconscious prisoners. Beyond being close enough to his previous lair not to have to worry about Salvatore waking up prematurely, it was his most heavily guarded compound.
    He could no longer trust Harley, or what she had told him.
    If someone had been with Salvatore, then he wanted to make damned certain they couldn’t follow.
    No one, absolutely no one, could sneak up on him here.
    Of course, he would feel a great deal happier if he weren’t currently standing in the cramped tunnels that ran beneath the estate. He was tired, stressed on an epic scale, and in no humor to meet with the ancient Were who stood in the depths of the shadows, his