Page 5 of Auctioned to the Alpha

Director Scanlon flipped through the written report Stacy had provided on the Grantham pick-up, the thick gold band on his finger catching the light, the metal contrasted by the deep tan of a man who spent more hours on the golf course than he did the office. He was nearing sixty, and thus likely retirement. He’d been a kind boss, if a somewhat absent one, over the past few years.

He closed the folder, laying a big palm across it, his bushy graying eyebrows quirking as he grinned. “Solid work, Stacy. Unfortunate about her sister interfering like that.” Scanlon shrugged his still-surprisingly broad and strong shoulders for a man of his vintage, the fabric of his light slate coat tightening across his chest. “A few days in holding will be enough to show her the light, I think.”

Grantham’s sister had refused to cooperate when Karen had issued the order for Lola to strip down and don the Retrieval Uniform, the shabby thing of little better quality than a vertically-striped burlap sack.

Lola’s sister, cursing like a sailor, had actuallypushedKaren. Her boss had flipped the foolish woman to the floor with a throw so crisp and quick, it would have made a Judo master proud.

Ms. Grantham had left the dorm that day inherproper uniform, the girl’s petulant sister in steel handcuffs.

Stacy nodded at Scanlon. “Well, not the worst we’ve seen. Karen addressed it quickly enough.” She sipped from her coffee, wincing at the burn at her lips.

Rain coursed down the windows of Scanlon’s cramped office. His desk was massive and seemed to inhabit most of the floor space of the room, the rest taken up with floor to ceiling shelves, and more volumes of reports than she wanted to think about.

Gil Scanlon might have been the Western Division FMB Director, but he sure seemed to be averse to delegating much to the Records folks, or keeping really anything at all in digital form. He was always a stickler for reviewing every pick-up, favoring in-person meetings that for Stacy were, most of the time, routine to the point of being somnambulant.

He got up and dropped the report on one of the many shelves behind his desk. Gripping the battered and cracked leather top of his chair, he stared at her for a moment, the sort of slightly unnerving intensity in his deep-set pale blue eyes that made it difficult to discern his exact mood from moment to moment.

Fortunately, Director Scanlon’s manner was as placid as the surface of a lake on a calm summer afternoon. “Auction coming up next week, agent. I, uh, reviewed Karen’s after action on the last one you attended. Rather interesting…”

“I…I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

But she did. He was talking about the Alpha.

“Not unknown, of course, for the representatives of Wolf Nation to take an interest in agents. But there’s nothing to be concerned about.” Scanlon sat down, reclining back slightly, his hand gripping the wooden armrest so well-worn over the years that the varnish had completely eroded away in places. “FMB takes care of their own. They know it. We know it. Just do your job by the numbers, and it’ll be a cinch. No worries at all.”

“Why did you bring that up, sir?”

He tipped his head slightly to the side. “Oh, he’ll be there again at the auction. Cold Ridge will be among the bidders. Just… thought I’d remind you, in case you hadn’t seen it in the pre-auction preparatory docs.” Though histonewas casual, almost off-hand, his eyes remained fixed intently upon her. “Glacier Peak, Taos Canyon, and I think… what was it? Oh yes,Madre Norte.”

“A pack from Mexico too?” She set her coffee down along the front edge of his desk. “I thought they’d all gone off the grid?”

Most of the wolf packs south of the former US border had moved north during the past twenty years, for reasons the FMB still hadn’t been able to determine. Wolf Nation certainly wasn’t sharing the reasons why either. As far as the FMB knew, there wereveryfew active packs left in what used to be known as Central America. Perhaps they’d disappeared entirely?

“Madre Norte…they’reup somewhere east of Flagstaff now, yes?” She winced at the conversational—and rhetorical—question. They both already knew the answer.

Scanlon nodded along, gamely. “That’s our understanding, yes. Nottechnicallyon Wolf Nation territory, of course, but Treaty protected nonetheless.”

“It won’t be an issue, sir. I’ve handled worse. I think I was just a little taken aback.” She forced a laugh. “I’m used to agents being completely ignored at auctions. Because, you know…”

The tension, and especially the sexual energy, in the auction halls was quite something to behold, even if she never felt at all comfortable with it. It was part of the job, yes, but never an easy one for her.

Scanlon chuckled. “And for all we know, you might be totally disregarded by the representatives once more. Wanted to bring it up though. If you have concerns, I want to hear them. Otherwise, carry on as you normally would. Karen will be there too, so it should be rather uneventful.”

“Unless your name is Grantham.”

The director gave her a knowing incline of his head. Auctions, especially when the “candidates” were recent detainees, were tense affairs on the best of occasions. The biggest danger was conflict between pack representatives, but on occasion, a truly uncooperative omega could be an issue as well. The former were more common than she liked. The latter were comparatively rare, thankfully.

Still, Lola Grantham would have to be watched a little more closely than usual, on the off chance the unruly behavior of her sister were to…rub offon the soon-to-be-auctioned omega.

“Anything else, sir?” Stacy plucked her coffee up from the desk. “I need to head home a little early. Been feeling… really off today. It’s like, this nervous energy. Restless. Never felt anything like it. Maybe I’m a little burnt out?”

His gaze, surveying the relentless rain outside streaming down the window, suddenly flicked to hers, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. The harsh fluorescent lighting overhead rendered the silvery strands in his otherwise dark hair into filaments of dull steel. “What did you say?”

“About what?” Stacy stood, putting on her black pea coat. “Feeling off?”

“No, you said you’ve never felt anything like it.” He paused, his regard intense. “Not ever?”

Stacy shrugged, both to stave off the unease his sudden attention engendered within her, and to show she wasn’t rattled at all.

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