Page 27 of Chained
Without asking Townsend, she left plenty of space for a healthy glug of cream and three packets of sugar. Townsend stirred his cup without bothering to look at the plastic menus tucked next to the napkin dispenser. Although Terry wasn’t hungry, he did a quick perusal of the menu options. The sooner they ordered, the sooner he could beg Townsend to act.
“I’ll have the daily special,” Townsend told Lorene. “And a bowl of soup—it’s chicken noodle today, right?”
“Yep.”
“Good. A bowl of chicken noodle. And an order of fries.”
Lorene raised her eyebrows at Terry.
“Just a burger, please.”
Townsend shook his head. “Try the open meatloaf sandwich. It’s terrific.”
Terry managed not to scream. “Fine. Meatloaf sandwich, please.”
Still writing on her order pad with a stubby pencil, Lorene walked away. Terry opened his mouth to renew his pleas, but before he could get a word out, Townsend had pulled a tiny black book from inside his suit coat and begun to read silently.
“Sir, I—”
Not looking up from the book, Townsend held up a single finger to silence him. The food arrived promptly, and Townsend’s special turned out to be a platter stacked with breaded pork chops, mac and cheese, mixed vegetables, and garlic bread. He tucked away the book and dug in at once, grunting his enjoyment. Terry ate a few bites of his sandwich; it was, in fact, excellent. But a good meal wasn’t his priority right now.
Unfortunately, the mealwasTownsend’s priority, and he refused to discuss anything until his plates were cleared and Lorene delivered fresh coffee and a slab of lemon meringue pie.
“You don’t like the sandwich, Brandt? You can have a burger instead, if you really want.”
“The sandwich is great.” Terry pushed the half-full plate away. “I can’t eat any more.”
“You’re all tied up in knots, my boy. This isn’t like you at all.”
Terry supposed that was true. He usually threw himself into an assignment, never questioning his orders and never getting emotionally involved in the outcome. It was just a job, after all. Best job in the world, right? “Sir, I need—”
“You know, I once recruited an agent candidate at this very diner. Well, actually he’d come to me first, and I knew he wasn’t suited for the Bureau. But then an assignment came along that was perfect for him, and….” He spread his hands, palms up, on the table.
“Sir—”
“Now, you were a different case, weren’t you? You thought you’d be happy writing parking tickets in that pissant little town in Ohio.”
“Wisconsin.”
Townsend waved away the correction. “You barely even know the Bureau existed, did you? I had to convince you that you’d be wasting your life anywhere else. And I was right, wasn’t I?”
Terry nodded grudgingly as he remembered. Townsend had shown up at his home, for Chrissake, the crappy little house Terry had been renting since graduating the police academy a year earlier. Townsend had refused to reveal how he knew of Terry’s existence or why he believed Terry would be such a great catch. “It takes a special kind to make it in the Bureau,” he’d said. “I think you’re the right kind.”
Honestly, though, Terry had required very little convincing. Not when he had the chance to escape his grim childhood memories and frigid Wisconsin winters, and Townsend offered a generous salary and all the excitement a young man could want. Not to mention the opportunity for that young man to spend his off-duty hours dancing in the many gay clubs of Los Angeles instead of having to drive to Milwaukee, where the nightlife offerings were less glittery.
Until a few days ago, Terry had never questioned his decision.
“What happened to him?” he blurted. “The guy you recruited here?”
“I was right—he wasn’t suited for the Bureau. But his single mission turned out satisfactorily, I suppose. The suspect was taken down. And the young agent wannabe? He found another, more compelling interest. He and his partner ended up running a little bookstore-café.”
“Partner?”
Townsend smiled enigmatically. “Next time you have a vacation, you should go meet them yourself. They’re in Seattle. I understand their shop is still quite popular.” He swallowed an enormous bite of pie and then leaned forward slightly. “So. Your crisis, my boy?”
Terry took a deep breath. After waiting forever to tell Townsend about Edge, now he didn’t know how to start. “Did you know that dog shifters exist?”
“Of course. Why would werewolves be the only such creatures?”
