Page 8 of Loving Graystoke's Heir

We should go after the hunters.

Nomusa looked up at him, and he wondered if she could hear the voice roaring in his head.

“That would help,” she agreed. “I only hope they can find them before they leave the continent.”

It would be difficult to chase the hunters across borders, but if they were Americans, once they crossed the Atlantic it would be nearly impossible to make them pay for their crimes.

The group was divided up into their patrols, and Donal almost groaned when he was assigned to the same vehicle with Zenzile, Thabisa, and Amahle.

When he looked back at Nomusa, he was sure she saw his panicked look as she barely managed to hide her laughter. “Would you like to stay here in camp, Sifiso? I could use a break from my work.”

He gave her a narrowed look, but she didn’t seem the least bit concerned, waving him off.

“This is what happens when you show up unannounced. You are put to work.”

Sighing, he followed Thabisa into the armory to prepare for their patrol. Knowing that she was the newest in the group, he hoped that she would take it easy on him.

Once they were inside the converted container, he started to count out the ammunition supply and had made it halfway through when she stepped up beside him and gave him a curious look.

“What is this I hear about hyenas, Sifiso?”

Donal’s chin dropped to his chest with a long-suffering sigh.

* * *

It didn’t bode well that the parking spaces outside of the investigators’ office were filled with splashy, sporty vehicles. None of which looked as if they’d ever seen a road with a rut or pothole.

Magheli met her at the curb and she gave him a curious look. “Where are you going?”

He gestured to the door with an owlish look. “I’m going with you.”

She paused for a moment and shook her head. “You don’t need to.”

“I know.” He leaned closer to the window and squinted at the scene inside the office. When he turned back to her he had a look of caution on his face. “I am sure that you can handle yourself. I’m sure that you can handle pretty much anything you set your mind to, but the men in there won’t like speaking to a woman.”

Tamsin opened her mouth to argue, but she had a feeling that he’d only dig his heels in deeper if she did. “Fine. Come in with me, but I want you to understand that I’m going to speak to them. You won’t be speaking for me.”

He held up his hands in surrender and then gestured for her to precede him to the door.

Lifting her chin, Tamsin walked along the sidewalk toward the wide glass double-doors, ready to meet any challenge.

Inside, the air-conditioning was set so low that she had to fight off an instinctual shiver. Being comfortable was one thing, but Tamsin couldn’t understand why anyone would set the temperature so low inside that when you stepped outside, you’d likely suffer heat stroke from the change alone.

Remembering the office number from the notes she’d made on her tablet, Tamsin took a quick look at the building map and made her way to Suite B, which occupied the left side of the building. Crossing the lobby, her well-worn boots squeaked on the polished stone tiled floor and with each high-pitched noise she felt something pinch at the back of her neck.

When she opened the door and stepped through into the office, she tried to ignore the low whistle coming from behind her.

The offices had all the trappings of a high-end law office. Leather couches, plants that were too perfect to be real, and a brass plaque behind the reception desk with their company name emblazoned on it.

If she was a betting woman, she would have laid odds that if she opened the drawers at the reception desk, they’d be empty.

The chair behind the desk looked pristine. It probably still had the fresh out of the bag smell.

Stepping off to the side, she stepped through a doorway and into the back part of the office. Instead of a suite of offices or even a bullpen full of desks, the area in the back resembled a man cave.

Tamsin was fairly sure they’d been paid a pretty penny for investigative services, but they’d done nothing of the kind. They had all the creature comforts of life: a big screen television, a bar full of top shelf liquor.

No doubt, if she went further into the offices she’d find a restaurant quality refrigerator full of microwaveable snacks.

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