Page 140 of White Raven
“We need more bodies,” Brandon added. “Can we call Cap, and Foster?”
“On it,” Rhaena said, pulling out her phone. “Wren? Can you check the hall, and pull the fire alarm? We need to get this building evacuated.”
“What if they attack these people?” Wren asked.
“Fire alarm means any residents use the stairs,” Brandon answered. “I doubt the vamps will worry about them. They’re probably already in the elevator, and they’re not here for them anyway. This is a hit. Not a hunt.”
Foley sat across from Foster in a booth as he ripped the meat from a rib bone and picked up another. She was staring at him, half the food on her plate untouched. He stilled as the rib he held staggered in front of his open mouth.
“What?” he asked, shrugging.
Foster smirked, rolling her eyes, and picking at her greasy french fries. “How you managed to keep what you really are a secret is really shocking—you eat like a fucking animal.”
“You’re the one who wanted to sit down and dine with one. I’m starving. My body feels like it’s begging.”
“When was the last time you had an actualmeal, Captain?” she asked, shoving a fry into her mouth.
He considered it for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sat down and eaten something that sustained him. Everything that had been going on recently had him poking at snacks, hurrying through sandwiches, losing too much sleep, and hardly taking care of himself.
“I don’t remember.”
Foster sighed and dropped her elbows onto the table. “How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking…”
“Don’t you know everything there is to know about everybody?” he smirked, biting off more meat.
“Your age isn’t something I cling to. You’re not like your hot, tattooed detective. His age would be a detail worth remembering.”
Foley lowered his brows. “Ouch.”
Foster huffed a laugh. “How old?”
He dropped the bone into his plate, and started on another, pausing to sip water from his straw. “I’ll be sixty at the end of this year.”
Her low whistle made him roll his eyes.
“So?” she started, leaning back against the booth. “When does a decorated veteran such as yourself decide it’s time to retire?”
He’d thought a lot about that recently. About how the constant chaos was wearing him down bit by bit, and the matter of his werewolf heritage wasn’t even all that significant if one were to really consider it. He’d been turned by accident. Rhaena Northwood’s pack…wasn’t exactlyhis. He’d earned the title of captain but paid for with the blood of his partner…the only woman he’d ever been in love with. Even that small detail was bullshit. It was obvious now that Lindsay never loved him that way. She’d never been truly honest with him. All of it was a mistake. Every choice he’d made was a mistake. Maybe the choice of settling down and living a more quiet existence was the right one by everybody. He was growing increasingly tired of all this shit.
“I’ve thought about it. Brent Stratford might be selling his place. I’ve let him know my interest. I don’t wanna leave Boston, but…I could use some quiet.”
Foster sipped her beer, and it clunked on the table before her. “I’ve heard it’s nice. Who would replace you? Northwood? Her sweet boy-toy?”
Foley chuckled. “Brandon Jenkins is a damn good cop. An even better person. I wouldn’t say he’s sweet. But he might be a little soft to be captain. Northwood would be a great fit, but…I don’t know that she’s ever been interested. And that would mean losing Kane as her partner, which I know she’d never go for.”
“You ever talked to her about it?”
He thought back to the past few years. About their sparring sessions in the training center. How she flawlessly laid grown men on the mat, and every single time, not smiling in their face…instead helping them up and urging them to go again. Rhaena was a force of nature. Determined. Strong.
A leader of the pack…an alpha if there ever was one.
“I haven’t,” Foley said, wiping his hands on a wet nap. “But I know she’d pass that exam with flying colors. I don’t think the board would argue her capacity for leadership, either. She’d be perfect as captain.”
Foster smirked. “Captain Northwood.” It definitely had a nice ring to it. There’s nobody he’d trust more with the 12th than Gloves. Just thinking about it put a proud smile on his face. “You love her, don’t you?”
Foley glanced up, shocked by the audacity of her question. “She’s like a daughter to me.”
As if merely talking about her had conjured her up, his phone started buzzing on the table. It was Rhaena. Foster snickered, and gestured a hand toward it, urging him to answer.
