Every time.

“Dancer?”

He faced her with a harsh grimace. “Why are you using a name you know annoys me?”

“Bitch about it later. I have something more important.” She handed him the tracker.

He scowled at it as he realized the same thing she had. “Shit.”

“Yeah. They’re definitely tracking you.”

And if this one set of assassins had a trace on him, others most likely did too. Or if they didn’t, they could hone in on this frequency.

Dancer angled it toward the cave where the kids were hiding, then to her. As before, it only pointed to him. His frown deepened as he shook his head. “This makes no sense. I’m not tagged. I would have known had I been implanted… unless…” He handed her the tracker then began disrobing.

Oh, hello…

She definitely liked this new turn of events.

Heat scalded her cheeks at the sight of all that rippling muscled flesh as he unwound all the leather straps from his arms and braces and then dropped his shirt to his feet.

Dear gods. Even scarred, he was a fierce, fabulous male.

His gaze met hers expectantly.

What did that look mean? Was it an invitation? Oh yeah, baby. Gimme!

Her throat suddenly dry, she couldn’t think. All she could do was gape.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?”

“Is it in my clothes or my body?”

Ah… so that was why he’d given her this show. A slow smile curved her lips as a very naughty thought went through her mind. “Maybe we should remove your pants to be sure. What do you think?”

He laughed, flashing a bit of fang at her. “This is serious, Sumi.”

“As am I,” she mumbled as she moved closer to him. “We really should be very thorough. Just in case.”

But he wasn’t so accommodating.

Pouting, she scanned him. The signal strengthened. She aimed it to his clothes and it lessened. “Bad news, big guy. It’s not your clothes.”

Using the tracker, she ran it up and down his back to see where the signal was strongest. “It seems to be right in the center of your spine.” She put her finger on the exact location. “Could it be your League chip reactivated?”

Thanks to his friend Nykyrian, who’d dug his tag out of his own body the day he quit, The League now embedded them in the spines of their assassins. The only way to remove them was with a surgeon, and any surgeon who removed a League tag was to be executed without trial.

“No. They pulled it out when I was discharged.” He growled in frustration.

“Maybe someone shot you?”

“Maybe. They do do that a lot.” A tic worked in his jaw as he bent to retrieve his shirt. He pulled it on, but didn’t fasten it. “We’ve got to get to a subspace transmitter. Did any of them have a link on them?”