Page 27 of Cuddles for the Bear
“I hope so,” Wren said. “Did you want to meet your mate one day?” Wren thought Flint was attractive, and he was always so kind. Wren could imagine him caring for a mate.
“I’d love a mate. All paranormals hope to meet their mate one day.” Flint put down the little hand trowel he was using and wiped across his forehead with the back of his arm, before resting it on the trestle table. “I’m just not sure it’ll ever happen for me.”
The unexpected note of sadness had Wren coming into the glasshouse, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly. “Don’t all paranormals have a mate somewhere?”
“They do. Yes.” Flint nodded. “Well, except the really evil people in the world, but most of us have a mate out there somewhere. The thing is, I’m an anomaly, and there’s a good chance if I did meet my person, they would reject me.”
“Why would they do that?” Wren frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re a fantastic person and a true friend. Why wouldn’t anyone want you as a mate?”
“Thanks.” Flint ducked his head, but Wren could see he was pleased. “I’m not being a Debbie Fowner, or all gloomy, but Idon’t fit the look of what people imagine assassins will be. When people think of an assassin, they think of people like Storm or Calvin, Levi or Python, or even your Devon. You know what I mean - big, strong alpha types. Not like me at all.”
“I’m sure I heard Cyrus saying the other night that you’d done really well on the last job you went out on. The other men all respect you as well. If you’re getting the job done, why would you be worried that you’re not assassiny enough?”
Flint laughed. “Assassiny. I like that. But that’s the thing. Most people wouldn’t look at me and think ‘oh, yeah, that’s an assassin right there.’”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Wren thought about what Devon said about blending in when he went out.
“Definitely.” Leaning his elbow on the trestle table, Flint grinned. “There have been so many times when I’ve been sent out on a job and I turn up at this bar, or somewhere like that. The mark doesn’t see me as a threat at all and usually invites me to his room. It makes my work so much easier than chasing people down. But when people think of the word ‘assassin,’ a skinny little guy wearing green gingham, tending plants in a greenhouse is not the first image that comes to mind.”
“I can’t think why not. I mean, what else would an assassin do in their spare time? Everybody has to have downtime.”
“True, true.” Flint nudged Wren with his shoulder. “When I think of my perfect mate, the person that I dream I’d want to be with for the rest of my life, I imagine one of those tall, big, badass people. But face it, what would somebody like that see in somebody like me?”
“You told me our mates are perfect for each other, and Devon said the same thing.” Wren gave Flint’s shoulders a quick hug. “Honestly, your mate will find you, and when he does…or she…”
“No, my mate will be a he,” Flint interrupted quickly. “I really have no idea what to do with women’s bits.”
Wren giggled. “I’m not sure I would either. I’ve never seen them.”
“Me neither.” It was nice that Flint giggled with him.
“So we’re agreed. Your mate will think that you’re perfect the way you are, green gingham overalls and all.” Wren looked his friend up and down. “I would have gone with pink myself, but that’s because I’m a fan. But the green looks awesome on you.”
“I’ll make sure I send Devon the link to where I got them,” Flint said. “We can be twinsies, ooh, and we could get a pair for Pax as well. Then we three could be the Gingham Gang – that sounds like an outlaw band right there, doesn’t it?”
Wren wasn’t quite sure what an outlaw gang was, but sharing laughter with his friend was fun, especially when he could feel through their connection that Devon was getting more and more irate.I do hope everything’s all right.
Chapter Eighteen
Meanwhile, back in the house.
“I keep telling you, Wren doesn’t know anything about what that piece of shit snake had been up to. He only got the impression that there had been other boys, because Michael said he was going to replace him. But he doesn’t know how they were acquired, or what circles Michael ran around with. For god’s sake. Wren was a slave – he wasn’t even allowed out of the house. How the hell do you expect him to know anything at all except the rubbish that Michael kept yelling at him? Most of that was bravado and bullshit.”
“Devon, you know why we have to ask.” Cyrus’s voice was incredibly patient, although Devon had lost all of his. “Michael was clearly part of a network - a network that specifically targets shifter children for shifter predators. We can’t let this sort of thing go on.”
“I understand that. I really do. But that’s not my main concern,” Devon said firmly. “Nor is it Wren’s – it shouldn’t need to be. Don’t think I’m not sorry for the kids who get taken and shit like that. You know that’s not the case. I care about kids as much as you or anyone else. But Wren is not a part of the asshole groups who do that sort of thing, and neither am I.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you were.”
Not you. No. But the agency…“The agency has drummed it into our heads from the moment we start working for them, that we do our job, make sure there are no witnesses, take nothing from the scene, and get out. That’s it. End of story. We don’t need to know the backstory because that’s already been vetted. We don’t need to know what happens next. That’s got nothing to do with us. We are simply tools in the agency’s box to take care of thescum. That’s why none of this pressure is making sense. Why is the agency being so persistent now?”
“Wren survived,” Cyrus said simply. “You know one of the most difficult things with the people we deal with is that they don’t usually leave their victims alive. The agency’s position is that because Wren did survive so long, there must be something he knows, that Michael was perhaps keeping him alive because…”
“The only reason Michael kept him alive for so long was because Wren didn’t shift.” Devon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You know all this. The only reason Wren is still alive is because his chameleon had the common sense to hide. Wren never went through his first shift the way Michael expected. I mean, come on, Cyrus. Surely someone at the agency has got more sense than this. Wren didn’t know anything about the paranormal world at all. He didn’t know anything about Michael being a shifter either, until Python told him, with that damn boot stunt of his. Don’t you understand? Wren doesn’t know anything!”
Devon frantically tried to think of some diversion, some way to get the agency off Wren’s back. His mate didn’t know the number of calls he’d had with Cyrus and the amount of pressure Devon was under to deliver Wren for an interview. If Devon had his way, Wren would never know about it.
“There has to be another way. You said, back when I was waiting to get hold of Michael, remember then the agency said he had been on dodgy forums. That’s how they planted the lead to get him to come to me. Why aren’t they chasing that up? Why aren’t they following those leads?”
