.Chapter 1. Broken Butte, New Mexico Eight Years Later Broken Butte had changed, Katelyn Chavos thought as the black Tech-Corp SUV she rode in entered the city limits. There was now a large, chic hotel with attached shopping and a conference center as well as several other popular tourist stays on the outskirts, between Broken Butte, New Mexico, and Window Rock, Arizona. A mall outside of town, updated sheriff's department, as well as a sleek new city police department and courthouse. The dusty town she remembered had all but been transformed and appeared to be thriving. Even the diner the Santiagos had once owned was gone, and in its place a chain restaurant known for its American-Italian food. From the file she'd gone over on the flight there from San Francisco she knew that the Breed groups settling in the area, the new Western Division of the Bureau of Breed Affairs in Window Rock, Arizona, along with the accompanying businesses to support the Breed influx and their needs, had transformed many of the poor counties along the Navajo Nation reservation land and nearby towns. Prosperity was beginning to show itself not just in the communities surrounding Window Rock, but all through Arizona, New Mexico and Utah, where Wolf, Coyote and Lion Breed communities had begun to spring up. The majority of many of the Breed bloodlines were found to have contained a high concentration of genetics from the area. The young women kidnapped from the tribal communities in the decades of Breed research and development had come from this area. Their connection to the land and what was considered psychic talents were prized by the Genetics Council scientists who had been given free rein to choose the young women used to carry the fetuses created from the genetic modifications. The horrors and atrocities committed on the women taken from the area were often reviewed in the press as well as by governments around the world. Lest anyone ever forget the monstrous acts of the scientists who created the Breeds. They were nearing the twenty-year mark of Breed knowledge and awareness. The day Callan Lyons stood before the world with his small pack of Feline Breeds and proclaimed their demand for freedom wouldn't be forgotten for decades, if ever. And the closer that twenty-year mark had come, the more Katelyn had seen interconnected events and possibilities and knew that soon, possibly too soon, change would be coming. She wasn't certain which side the scales would tip in that, but she knew neither Breeds nor non-Breeds would be unaffected. "Mr. Parker asked me to remind you that he and Mrs. Parker will join you at the hotel restaurant for dinner this evening," the Bengal Breed driving the SUV reminded her as he glanced in the rearview mirror. This Bengal still retained a shadow of striping along his rough-hewn, handsome features, an indicator that he had been one of the last to be freed from the labs some ten years before. Bengals were most often testy, hard to get along with and exceptionally brutal in battle. Thankfully, this one was rather polite and strikingly handsome to boot. Breed males weren't classically handsome. They were rugged, the strong bones and angles in their faces giving them the ultimate bad-boy look. Their gazes were penetrating, often with hair that sometimes resembled the animal their genetics came from, and they normally wore it a bit overly long. Their voices could often hold a latent growl or become low and resonate with sex and sin. The Breed females, few though there were, were absolutely beautiful. Katelyn had yet to meet one over five feet six inches. They were delicate and appeared vulnerable and in need of protection. They were anything but. They'd been honed in the fires of cruelty and sexual abuse, considered no more than playthings for the upper echelon Council ranks or the soldiers that ran the labs where they were created. "Thank you, Drew. I'll contact Mr. Parker myself and let him know when I'll be available this evening," she told the Bengal as she glanced up from the electronic pad and the files she was going over. "Would you slow down as we drive by the office site? We won't be stopping; I'd just like to see how it's progressing." "Of course, Ms. Chavos," he murmured, slowing the SUV to a crawl as he turned up the side street the Tech-Corp offices sat on. The three-story white stucco-and-redbrick building sat amid several office buildings, rising a story higher than the others and appearing stately, waiting to be finished and filled with activity. Sun-dimming windows gleamed beneath the harsh sunlight drawing her gaze and her need to investigate the interior. "Looks quite nice," she said in satisfaction as she sat back in her seat and closed out the files on the electronic pad. She would get out by herself and walk along the streets to absorb the changes in the town one day soon. She doubted there were many people she'd recognize, or who would recognize her. She'd changed, Katelyn reflected; she was still different as she'd once been accused, but that difference was now buried and the world only saw a woman confident and certain of her place in the world. "Should we go to the hotel now?" her driver asked politely. Katelyn gave him a small smile. "Of course. Thank you for taking the time for me." He shot her a look of surprise through the rearview mirror but said nothing else. Within minutes they were pulling beneath the hotel entrance, the shaded awning relieving the bright sunlight that would have spilled onto the dark gray and cream tiles that lined the entrance floors. "Ms. Chavos." A hotel steward opened her door and lifted the leather briefcase from the seat next to her then handed it off to her driver, extending his hand to help her out. Katelyn stepped from the vehicle, the four-inch heels she wore with the cherry red snug business skirt that ended just above her knees and white chiffon sleeveless blouse giving her the added height she always felt she needed. Not that the four inches helped around Breeds. They were tall enough, broad enough, to remind any woman exactly how feminine they were, she thought with an edge of amusement. "Your suite's ready, ma'am," the steward, Bert, the name tag proclaimed, assured her as he led the way through the entrance and motioned to a porter to collect her bags. "Should you need anything, please let us know, and we'll make sure it's delivered immediately." They moved to the bank of elevators where he pushed the button inset between two cubicles, the doors opening immediately. The ride to the top floor was made quickly and soon the elevator doors were sliding open, the cool, pristine hallway opening before them. Katelyn could feel the exhaustion she'd been putting off for the past week catching up with her. She wanted in her room, in one of the comfortable silk pajama sets she'd packed, and stretched out on a bed for a nap. She'd been going full tilt for the past two years as she prepared for the move to Broken Butte, coordinating and overseeing the completion of both the Tech-Corp production facility as well as the offices. Vetting construction companies and future employees for the new Tech-Corp location and making certain everything went smoothly was a time-consuming job. The agreement between Tech-Corp, Breeds and the Navajo Nation made things doubly difficult at times. And if she thought Tech-Corp was tough when it came to security, well, they had nothing on the Breeds. Tech-Corp itself had a strict vetting process, but only Breeds required the many DNA samples she'd been advised she'd need from not just those employees, but herself as well. Blood, urine and saliva swabs as well as a vaginal swab that would be taken in the Bureau of Breed Affairs medical facility rather than by a private doctor. The background checks were completed, thankfully, and she had only to go over a few of them with the man who had taken her under his wing eight years, Graeme Parker, before submitting them to the Bureau when she arrived for her appointment at the medical facility. Everything was running smoothly, without a wrinkle in sight. And that alone was worrying. Within minutes a porter arrived with her luggage and placed it on the luggage racks awaiting them in the bedroom. Tipped, smiling in pleasure and assuring her all she had to do was call for him, he left the suite, and Katelyn slid the secure lock on the doors in place before sighing in relief. God, she needed to sleep. She felt that she could sleep a week and it still wouldn't be enough to renew the energy she needed some days. "Hello, love." Katelyn froze. She knew that voice, smoother than sex and sin and flavored with a dark, heady rasp. Please, God, what had Graeme done? Releasing the doorknobs to the double doors, Katelyn turned slowly and stared at the man standing in the middle of the living area, close to the bar and balcony doors. Six-four, dressed in a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled back on his forearms and tan khakis with his ever-present scuffed brown boots. His green gaze was somber, the color almost emerald though shot with warm amber tones in his sun-bronzed face, his thick dark blond hair falling over his brow and growing nearly to his shirt collar. The ultimate bad boy, she'd always thought. He should have been a born a Breed. "Did they put me in the wrong room?" She fought to ignore how her heart raced, how memories tried to push to the surface from that deep, dark place she'd confined them to. "And here not even a hello, or How have you been, Dane?" he asked, his voice somber. "It's been a long time, love. Far too long." It hadn't been long enough. "Hello, Dane. How are you? Why are you in my suite?" She rattled off the questions, torn between throwing her arms around him and raging in fury that he was there. "It seems we've a shared suite." His lips quirked with a bit of mockery. Katelyn could only shake her head. "I'll call the desk . . ." "Sorry, love, already tried that," he assured her. "There's not a spare room to be found." Great. Katelyn gazed around the room. The long conference/dining table and seating area with a bar and electric fireplace. The kitchenette was tucked in the far corner and divided from the room by a short counter. It was to be her home until the house she'd leased in town was ready. A few weeks, she'd been assured, no more than a month. "So stay at the Bureau. I thought you had a suite there." Graeme had told her several times the Vanderales had their own personal suite at the Western Bureau. "The parents are currently in residence, and the twins are, quite frankly, little terrors at present," he said, the hint of his South African accent washing over her senses even as she noticed that despite his grimace, she could detect a smirk at the edge of his lips. He was lying to her. For whatever reason, he was determined to share her suite with her. "For how long?" She forced herself to have patience. She'd been certain there wouldn't be a chance of running into him. There were no Vanderale projects in the area, no news reports of their arrival. Yet here he was, right where she didn't need him to be. She didn't want him there, didn't need him there, but beyond that, this was going to be more inconvenient to her than simply risking running into him on a regular basis. He shrugged, his wide shoulders lifting as though it didn't matter. "Well, the parents haven't given me their itinerary yet. I'll let you know when they do." This was going to cause problems. Her assistant, Portia, was due to arrive in a few days and was supposed to stay in the other room. Once the business for the day was over, she'd need Portia there so they could keep up with problems arising or last-minute concerns. "Dane, I realize you must have your own reasons for deciding to steal the connecting room"-she stated, fighting to keep her tone icy, refusing to play along with whatever game he was playing-"but in two days' time, my assistant will be arriving, and she'll need it. I need her here." He pursed his lips regretfully. "Sorry, love, but I can't exactly camp out in the hallway. I'm certain there are still rooms in one of the nearby hotels that Tech-Corp can get for her." She wasn't in the mood for this. Wasn't in the mood for his outlandish humor or his perverse amusement at her expense. She had two days to fix this, but if she didn't shower and sleep soon, then she would miss her chance until well after midnight. Graeme had a shopping list of details he wanted to go over for the production facility and new offices. This was her baby, and she would be in charge of the majority of decisions made. She couldn't afford to allow this problem to interfere. But it was Dane, a part of her whispered. She hadn't seen him in eight years, other than online or in news programs. She hadn't spoken to him, hadn't felt that curious warmth that always seemed to reach out to her. He was her weakness, even now, all these years later. But she'd never expected anything less. "This isn't going to work," she informed him, fighting to remain calm. "Find yourself another hotel, camp in the desert, I don't really care. But vacate this suite." "Come on, Katy . . ." "My name is Katelyn," she snapped before he could go further, causing him to look at her sharply, his gaze narrowing. "I'm sorry, but Katy simply doesn't exist anymore, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that while addressing me." She hadn't used "Katy" since she'd left Broken Butte. Graeme called her Katelyn from the beginning and had addressed her as such when introducing her to Tech-Corp's leadership team. She'd been Katelyn ever since, and she'd found she liked it. "Katy." His voice lowered while he stepped across the room, his gaze holding hers as his expression turned somber. "You'll always be my Katy . . ." She laughed at that. She couldn't help it. "I'll always be that stupid little girl that believed you could do no wrong and had no hope of fitting into your life?" She rolled her eyes at the idea of it even though a part of her knew that twenty-one-year-old still lurked inside her, still doubted her value despite her changes. "No, thank you, Dane. I believe I much prefer Katelyn." Excerpted from Dane's Mark by Lora Leigh All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
