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Tied With a Bow

Tied With a Bow

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elected into office during the last term. Jobs were coming into the counties the Navajo controlled and more native small businesses were being incorporated. Added to the lower rate of unemployment, and Ray Martinez had ensured his mark in the history books.
    “And what freedom do you believe you’ll need in this investigation?” Ray crossed his arms over the fine white shirt he wore and leaned back in the comfortable chair he’d taken at the head of the conference table.
    Now, this was where Rule was likely to get into a hell of a lot of trouble if he wasn’t careful.
    Not that Rule was never not careful. He simply sometimes forgot that tact and politeness were essential when dealing with such men.
    “We’ll need access to your Nation files to ascertain the possibility that our rogue could have formed any alliances with any of your people based on their familial ties, DNA and genetic connections as well as possible political affiliations or agendas. We don’t know what he looks like, but we have the genetic and DNA profile used in his creation as well a working knowledge of the groups he’s infiltrated over the past year. Several of which I know your people have access to as well. Our need for confidentiality requires we keep the genetic typing confidential for the time being, but the moment we’re able, I promise we’ll ensure you have that information as well.”
    How did a man stand in front of his uncle and deceive so easily? Malachi wondered. Which was exactly what Rule was doing. Standing before this man as though they shared no blood and lying straight to his face.
    “He’s good,” Ashley murmured as she crossed her arms loosely over her breasts as she crossed one knee over the other and watched. “We should have made popcorn for this one.” Instead, she popped the gum she was chewing.
    Ashley and her love for bubble gum were almost legendary.
    “There are times he’s too good,” Malachi commented as his attention moved back to the mate he’d agreed to delay taking. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unable to keep his eyes from her and willing to drown in the fires he knew would burn between them.
    Waiting to take her was a bargain he had regretted the moment he’d made it. Unfortunately, he had seen the wisdom in Rule’s request. Had he mated her, there would have been no way she would have made that meeting. And there would have been no way to convince her uncle that she wasn’t ill if the mating began as heated and fierce as he knew it would.
    Hell, it was already driving him damned crazy and all he had done was drink from the glass she had drank from and nipped her cute little ear. He’d wanted to mark her. The urge had been nearly overwhelming to go ahead and sink his teeth in the base of her neck, where it curved into her shoulder.
    He would have licked the little wound, but the hormone that had began swelling in the glands beneath his tongue would have already begun taking the pain from the bite. It would have entered her system at the point of the bite and made the need to have each other impossible to deny.
    It was already impossible to deny. If she were there in the room with him, he would have already had her stripped, fucked and knotted.
    His cock throbbed in his jeans. Thick and heavy, the iron hard flesh demanded the presence of his mate, demanded that he take her, mark her, brand her as his, no matter the obstacles.
    “Damn, get your mating hormones under control there, Mal,” Ashley grimaced as she glanced back at him. “All that male lust and testosterone are about to poison me.”
    “You’re not tied to that chair, Ash,” he grouched right back at her. “You can leave anytime.”
    “Yeah, if I didn’t want to watch Rule weave a little bit of his magic. I just don’t want to drown in the smell of your raging hard-on while I’m doing it,” she snorted, her gaze flicking over him again before she turned back to the monitors.
    The raging hard-on was about to kill him. He swore his dick had never been so hard as it had been since Isabelle had guided his hand, the glass clasped between his fingers, to allow her to sip from his drink.
    Her eyes had been sultry, filled with feminine heat and hunger. He had sworn he’d seen a woman dying to taste the pleasure he could bring her, in that look. A pleasure Malachi knew would send them both racing to complete oblivion.
    He forced his attention back to the monitor, forced himself to attempt to decode the

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