Page 32 of Destined Predator
“Oh, Tyler, Rico, this is Ben and Casey, and their brothers Emil and Robin.” Jack did the introductions.
“Your friends from when you lived in New York, right?” Casey probed.
“No, friends of friends. You’ve heard me talk about Aaron and Macky.”
“The ones who took you to an exclusive speakeasy, where you needed a pass phrase to get in, and none of you could remember it, so you were stuck in the Mexican restaurant above until you did?” Ben grinned.
It sounded a funny story, and had no doubt been a fun evening, but Casey couldn’t imagine this stolid pair being part of it.
“They’re location scouts for a possible TV series, and checking out the ranch,” Rhett said, as if picking up Casey’s doubts.
Casey stood. “Why don’t I believe that?” He strode over and took a long blatant sniff of the two guys, making them flinch. They both stood their ground, though, and Casey knew that whatever they were, they were official. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The blond, Tyler, stood and held up a hand, palm out, in a clearwaitgesture. He nodded to his co-worker, who stood too, and went to the opposite side of the room to the blond. Casey had no idea what they were doing with their modified cell phones, but they were passing them along ledges and windowsills, behind photographs and ornaments, as if listening.
“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Emil whispered.
“All clear,” announced the darker-haired guy, and the blond nodded.
“Clear.”
“They were! You were! Sweeping the room for bugs!” Emil half-shouted.
“You’re not location scouts.” Jack glared at them. “Do you even know Aaron and Macky?”
“Only their details and that they provided a cover to contact you.” The blond pulled out his wallet, nodding at his partner to do the same—show their ID. “Agents Tyler Rand and Rico Perez from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, P Division.”
“Let me guess.” Rhett was on his feet, big and muscular, and not looking in the mood to be messed about with. “P as in…paranormal?”
“Affirmative. We’re with the Therian Department,” Agent Perez answered.
“Means we don’t chase you for what you are,” Rand said, “we chase the people who’d weaponize it.”
“Therian?” Rhett asked.
Agent Rand looked from Casey, next to him, to Ben, with Jack, then to Emil and Robin. “It means shapeshifter.”
Chapter Fourteen
Shit.Casey wished Rhett hadn’t been provoked into responding as he had. He was careful to keep his face blank and tried to mentally scowl at his brothers when they all turned to look at him, seeking direction. “Paranormal Division?” He forced out a laugh. “Rhett, how much TV doyouwatch? Emil and Robin having their heads full of that kinda baloney I can understand, but I didn’t think ranchers had that much time on their hands.”
“But—”
His big, burly rancher went all strong, silent type, cutting himself off. The silence that followed wasn’t just awkward; it felt charged. The air prickled, too thick with the scent of adrenaline and the faint tang of gun oil from the agents’ holsters. Casey could almost hear Rhett’s pulse, uneven and defensive, matching his own. The way he blinked those hazel eyes was adorable, but not so the mist of his confusion, that Casey wasexperiencing with him. Orfromhim. He still wasn’t sure about the bond, the gifts it conferred, or, as Rhett saw it, the demands it made and the toll it took, things that added to how difficult Rhett was finding it to accept their relationship.
Casey had promised to be patient, but it not being possible to talk things through with Rhett, to sort them out now, before it was too late, had him on edge. The wolf under his skin wanted to bare teeth, to protect what was his, while the man in him calculated odds, exits, the distance to the nearest weapon. Balance was getting harder with every breath Rhett took beside him. And that what was preventing them from talking, from reaching an understanding, was thatmoreshit was going down? Well, that was making him good and mad.
He tried to tamp down his reaction and think and do it fast. What would be better for the coywolves—for the men’s IDs to be fake, for these guys to be some wingnuts or even vigilantes trying to flush out shifters? Even if the twosome were part of a group, he and Ben could probably handle them.
Because the alternative, that this duo wereactualfederal agents, members of an official paranormal investigation division set up to monitor shifters… He couldn’t even complete the thought. What he did know was that they needed to get out of here. When he sneaked a glance toward the door, Agent Perez was standing between him and it, his brown eyes blank.
The bond flared, sharp as static, warning him that Rhett’s nerves were spiking. He swallowed it down, tried to project calm through the invisible thread between them, but the pulse came right back, stubborn as the man himself.
“You got things on your mind. I get that,” he said to the two men. “Just, I don’t know what you think there is for you here. Now, if it’s all the same to you, I actually came a’calling on Mr. Tucker here, but I see that’s not gonna happen, so we’ll take our leave.”
He thought he might have gotten away with it, if Robin hadn’t chosen that moment to cry out, “Where’s Ernesto? What have you done with him?”
“Sir?” Agent Rand was on that like white on rice, homing in on Robin.
