Page 37 of The Beast's Betrayed Mate
Chapter 11 - Peter
He watched her as she took the lead on downloading the files they’d been looking through.
“You don’t think they’ll come for us?” he asked, keeping his voice lowered.
“Of course, they will,” she said. “The question is only a matter of how far away we can get before they do. And how well we can hide before we make this public. Or tell the FBI. Or both. At the same time.”
He nodded.
“Maybe we should email it to the feds,” he suggested. “Right now.”
“No,” she shook her head. “We need to know who we can trust. Who will actually be on our side. Got any inside info on FBI agents who for absolute sure aren’t part of the wolf community and might be behind this drug?”
He made a face that no, indeed, he didn’t. She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
And she was right. There was no getting around the urgent need for them to collect the date and get the hell out of dodge.
“There’s a lot of it,” she said. “It’s going to take a while.”
He had a thought and opened up the internet, heading into his email.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going to email Michael’s old email. It isn’t in his name so it’s not traceable to him. He set it up ages ago when he felt a little concerned about identity theft and whatnot. I need to let him know exactly what we’ve found. He started this research, after all. Chances are he hasn’t gotten access to information like this, right?”
She nodded. “Smart,” she said. “Maybe we can meet up with him if he’s out there. Do you think his family has him?”
His fingers slowed on the keyboard. He hadn’t thought of that.
“I don’t think his father would ever hurt him,” he said slowly. “I mean, I can’t see it. But then you never know, right?”
“No, clearly you don’t,” she agreed.
“And parents can be the worst,” he muttered, not really wanting to get into it.
She was right, this conversation was better saved for another day.
If they were to have other days.
He finished the email. Making it not quite as detailed as it should have been, trying to keep the tone light and avoid any words that might signal any technology to look closer at the communication. He wasn’t sure he’d done a good job of it. He wasn’t a spy. He was just… awolf. Well, technically a man-wolf. Werewolf still sounded too alien, too dime-store novel. And it also didn’t feel as though it held the right connotation. His wolf rumbled in agreement.
“How did you meet Michael?” she asked.
“Playing pool,” he replied. “Well,hewas trying to—I was succeeding. I bet him I could get every single of my balls in pocket before he could so much as try getting any of his in.”
“Did you win?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Of course,” he said as though it was a given. “Whooped his ass. He came back the next night for a revenge match. Lost that one too. But we got to talking and we realized we had a lot more in common than him sucking at pool.”
“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
“He’s like a brother,” he said. “Him and Mason—his brother—they’re the closest thing to family I’ve got.”
“Are you worried something’s happened to him?” she asked.
“If he’s a wolf, and let’s assume that he is, then I don’t think so. I don’t think they’d kill us. Like your favorite fear says, they might trap us and control us but to them we must be a commodity,” he said.
