“I have to free her,” he said.

“What! Why?”

“I have to free her,” he said again. His tone was as expressionless as his features.

Mind control.

Shit, shit, shit. I threw Lilla a furious glance. She was staring intently at Dallas, watching as he stepped into the night, skirted around the vehicle, and paused beside her door.

I shoved my way out of the car and positioned myself just in front of Dallas, blocking his way to Lilla. “Look at me,” I commanded.

He didn’t.

“Look at me, Dallas.” I waved my hand in his face and even snapped my fingers.

Again, it was as if I weren’t even there.

“If you’ll just look at me, I can help you through this.”

“Get back in the car, Mia.”

I knew by the coldness in his eyes that he would kill me to free Lilla. I was left with no other choice. “I’m sorry, Dallas,” I said, but I didn’t wait another second. I wrapped my hands around his neck and squeezed, pressing against his carotid artery, cutting off the supply of oxygen to his brain. In his altered state of mind, he didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. His eyes widened, and he wrapped those large hands of his around my windpipe. Before he could do any damage, his knees collapsed, and he sank to the ground, unconscious.

Getting his muscled frame buckled into the passenger seat required more strength than I thought I possessed, but I was somehow able to do it. “Go on a freaking diet,” I bit out. My body was already sore, and this just intensified every ache.

Damn, but I’d be glad when this hellish night was over.

I plopped in the driver’s seat while Dallas slept peacefully, his features as relaxed as a child’s, his snore as loud as a freaking foghorn. Lilla and Hudson—who needed to share a little of my pain—remained still and silent. They probably realized I was about to snap. All it would have taken was one gesture—one damn gesture!—from either of them, and I would have beat some ass.

I programmed the station house back into the console, and the car leaped into motion. Soon the A.I.R. building came into view. The outside was plain, brown, and nondescript. No windows, no landscaping. A towering eyesore, really, that boasted flame-resistant walls and bulletproof glass.

As we eased into the parking garage, I noticed Commander Jack Pagosa waited impatiently at the head of my parking space. Once the car had stopped, I emerged. I stood beside the open door, relieved that I was finally here. “Hey, Jack. You ready for this?”

“What the hell took so long?” he demanded in that gruff voice of his. “And why the hell is Gutierrez sleeping on the job?”

From the corner of my eye, I watched Lilla shift her body and attention toward Jack and I knew what she was planning. My fists clenched. Damn it. That woman was a menace.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” I told the commander. Right now, I had to neutralize Lilla before she brainwashed the entire force.

I freed my pyre-gun, shifted the lever to stun, and flopped back into the driver’s seat. This time, I was facing the back. Lilla’s eyes widened as I lowered the separation shield and levered the barrel of my weapon at her forehead.

“My brother—”

“Fuck your brother.” I squeezed the trigger.

A single blue beam blasted and paralyzed her, slicing her words to a halt. God, that felt good. I nodded with satisfaction. I should have done that when I found her in the basement, but I hadn’t wanted to carry her. The downside now was that I wouldn’t be able to question her until tomorrow night, when the stun wore off. Oh, well. That’s the price I paid for peace. And I was now very willing to pay it.

Beside Lilla’s motionless form, Hudson blubbered like a baby. He’d somehow removed the tape over his mouth. The moment he realized I was watching him, he uttered a high-pitched, girlish scream that resounded through the sedan.

“I’m sorry, Mia. So sorry,” he babbled. “I swear I am. I’ll do whatever you want, tell you anything you want to know—just put the gun away.”

I longed to squeeze a round at him, but the stun only worked on aliens. Something about their chemical makeup. The fire beam, however, killed everything in its path, and I knew that’s what he feared. “We’ll chat a little later, Georgie boy,” I said, tapping his cheek with the side of my gun, “don’t you worry. And I’ll expect this same eagerness from you.”

“Whatever you want.” His already pale cheeks became even more pallid. I wasn’t sure, but I think he wet his pants. I didn’t want to look too closely to find out.

“Now, Commander,” I said, once again exiting the car. “What was it you asked me?”

His mustache twitched—I knew the sign. He wasn’t amused; he was furious. He didn’t like being brushed off, didn’t like being treated like one of my lackeys. His dark brown eyes were ablaze with emotion, and the lines around his mouth were taut. Just then, with his thick head of silver hair, his round belly, and his red flannel shirt, he looked like a psychotic Santa Claus.

“I’m this close, Snow. This close.” He pinched his index finger and thumb together, leaving only half an inch of air between them. “Do you know what I’m this close to doing?”

“Kicking my ass into next week, sir?” I said, because he’d made the threat a thousand times before.

“That’s right.” He straightened his shoulders and adjusted his collar, most of his bluster deflated by my lack of concern. “You have to follow the rules, Snow, and that means answering your phone like everyone else.”

“I turned it off. Didn’t need any distractions.”

“Every member of my unit is issued a phone so I can distract each one of you any damn time I want. Remember that.” He pushed out a breath. “Ghost and Kittie are inside, but they haven’t told me anything. I’m the head fucking commander of this team, and they want to wait for you.”

“No need to do any ass-kicking yet, Jack. I brought you a present.” With a sweep of my hand, I motioned to Lilla and Hudson. “A suspect and one of the A.I.R. team’s finest. George here has been a naughty boy and I think he can help us with the Steele case.”

Dallas moaned.

He was finally coming around. Both of his hands massaged his neck as his eyes slowly opened. He blinked, focused. I knew the exact moment he remembered the evening’s events—our little jaunt into Hudson’s, my refusal to explain…the fact that I’d almost choked him to death. Fire kindled to life in his eyes, making those perfect brown orbs blaze.

“Mia!” he shouted.

I backed away from the car, my hands up in a gesture of defenselessness. “I had to do it, Dallas. You know I did.”

“I’m still waiting for my explanation,” Jack interjected darkly.

“Help me get the prisoners in isolation, and I’ll explain everything. To both of you,” I added.

One at a time, they nodded.

Thirty minutes later, Jack had his explanation—minus a few of the seedier details. I breathed easier because daylight was quickly approaching. Hell, I even felt like gloating. I’d thwarted my vision. I’d won this time. Dallas was still furious with me, but he was alive. Even Ghost and Kittie were healthy and whole.

Nothing else mattered.

Life was good.

Lilla and Hudson had been separated and placed in isolation chambers. While Hudson complained during the trek to his cell, Lilla had thankfully remained silent, locked in the stun as she was. Sherry and the other woman from Hudson’s—I now knew her name was Isabel Hudson, George’s seventeen-year-old daughter—were being questioned by Ghost and Kittie.

The only thing left to do was talk with Dallas, but at the moment, that was impossible. Jack wasn’t finished with us yet.

The commander leaned forward in his high-backed gray leather chair. He was seated behind his large oak desk, the picture of authority as he shuffled papers to the edge of the cluttered desktop. The walls around dripped with pictures of Jack’s twenty-three-year-old daughter. His wife had left him years ago, so the only picture of her was the one decorating his trash can.

“You’ve done good work tonight,” he said. “Good work. Both of you. You found the break in the case we needed, and you brought in suspects for questioning. Albeit damaged, but at least they’re alive. Unlike last time.” His eyes lit on me when he emphasized his last words.

“What?” I muttered with a shrug.

Dallas and I were seated side by side. We hadn’t looked at each other since we’d entered Jack’s office. Tension radiated between us.

“Problem is,” Jack added, “we’ve had another disappearance. Victim’s been missing since last night. The roommate only filed a missing person’s a hour ago.”

“Why weren’t we notified immediately?” I asked.

“At first, the officers in charge weren’t sure this one had any connection. However, I had Jaffe review the notes, and he’s one hundred percent sure this case is connected to the others. Too many similarities, and too little evidence—which adds a bitch of a ripple to our case. This latest victim is female.”

Dread rolled through me, dark and dangerously sharp. I glanced at Dallas for the first time since stepping inside this office. Dallas glanced at me. This wasn’t good news we were getting. In unison, we both turned back to Jack.

“A female?” I asked.

Jack blinked over at me. “That’s what I said.”

“What’s her name?” I shifted in my seat, hating and loving every moment that passed and he didn’t answer.

“Rianne Harte,” he said, glancing down at his papers.

“Spell it,” I said, ice crystallizing in my blood.

He did.

My stomach churned, and I closed my eyes. The Arcadian hadn’t lied. He had said Rianne Harte, but he hadn’t spelled the name, and he hadn’t specified that the victim was female. I’d misheard and assumed. A dangerous combination.

He’d also mentioned that someone else would soon be dead.

At least I could take the guard off Grandpa Ryan and the boy. A real fucking silver lining.

“Jack,” Dallas said, “Mia and I chased down—”

I gave Dallas a barely imperceptible head shake that said, Do not mention the Arcadian male.

“Chased down a bottle of tequila earlier,” he finished lamely. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” I mouthed. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to keep Jack in the dark, but I did. I wasn’t sure who this Arcadian was, or which side he was truly playing for. I just knew I was going to be stingy with the information I shared until I figured out exactly what motives lay behind those amethyst eyes.

“You know better than to drink on the job,” Jack said, eyes narrowed. “First I catch you napping, and now you confess to drinking. What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Got a description of Miss Harte?” Dallas asked, quickly getting us back on track.

“Red hair.Green eyes. About five foot six.” Jack shrugged. “She’s a lab tech with Kilmer, Peterman, and Nate Pharmaceuticals. They specialize in fertility drugs.”

“What similarities did they find between her abduction and the others?” I asked.

“Arcadian hair laid on the woman’s kitchen counter like a rose. As with the others, there are no witnesses to her abduction. No sign of foul play. She simply disappeared from her home.”

“That it?”

“Hardly,” Jack said with a dark chuckle. “She had contact with two of the men before their disappearances. SullivanBay and Raymond Palmer. She was seen with each on two separate occasions.”

“This is getting complicated, Jack,” Dallas said.

“I know. And I need these missing people found ASAP. Alive,” Jack added. “If you fail, well, you might as well prepare your assess for PADD.” There was no humor in his tone. “I’m getting pressure from the top. They’re afraid the story will break soon, and they want answers.”

Fabulous. We were working as fast as we possibly could. Being ordered to work faster was fucking-tastic.

“Right now, I want you to go home, get some rest,” Jack continued. “We’ll debrief at noon tomorrow with Ghost, Kittie, Mandalay, Johnson, and Jaffe.”

“One thing, Commander,” I said. I’d worked under Jack for nine years. He was old and mean, but honorable. “Keep everyone—and that includes yourself—out of Lilla’s chamber. Her powers for mind control are staggering.”

“I doubt she can penetrate my mind.”

“The government has yet to produce a workable mind shield, and until they do, you’re in danger from her.”

He tapped a pen on his desk. “If I stay away from her and command everyone else to do the same, you’ll owe me. Big.”

He should be grateful for my warning, should be telling me how sensible I was. But no, the sneaky bastard wanted a favor, so he was pretending this was some big hardship. Last time I’d owed him a favor, he’d made me teach his daughter—who reminded me of Barbie on drugs—how to shoot an old-fashioned Road Kill .48. For my troubles, I’d spent a few nights in the hospital, having a bullet removed from my ass.

“What do you want?” I asked wearily.

“I need you to work next weekend. We’ll be short several agents.”

“Done,” I said, and felt a keen sense of relief. Working extra hours was no problem. It wasn’t like I actually had a life. I had no hobbies. No friends outside of work. Never attended family gatherings. That was…sad, I realized with a frown.