Chapter Seventeen
“If I have to read one more file, I’m going to gouge my eyes out with this pencil,” Bryn announced, tossing said pencil across the room where it bounced off the wall.
It was the day after he’d read the museum staff.
He shifted positions on his beanbag, which made a soft whooshing sound as he sank deeper into it, stretching his arms overhead with a dramatic groan.
“I swear they multiply overnight.” He reached to grab another folder from the stacks he’d arranged in a semicircle around him.
“Remind me again why we came back to work early?”
Gunnar didn’t look up from his computer, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Because you were, and I quote, ‘climbing the walls’ in the apartment. Warden got worried about the potential renovation bill.”
“Right.” Bryn changed his position again, which required a series of wiggles and an undignified flailing of limbs. His laptop was balanced on his knees, the screen filled with dense text that made his eyes hurt. “But now I’m climbing the walls while doing paperwork, which is worse.”
“It was a compromise, and Warden didn’t give us much choice now, did he? I’m sure Giles would find you something more interesting to do if you asked him.”
“I’d rather eat glass,” Bryn replied, letting his head fall back against the beanbag. “He’d just lecture me about ‘proper recuperation’ and ‘resetting my energy levels’ again.” He mimicked Giles’ clipped British accent.
“Which you ignored,” Gunnar pointed out, gesturing to the bandage still visible beneath the sleeve of Bryn’s faded Iron Maiden T-shirt. “That cut hasn’t fully healed yet.”
“It’s a scratch,” Bryn protested. “I can’t help it if I don’t have lupine super-healing.
Watching daytime TV was making me lose brain cells by the minute and sadly we can’t spend every minute getting down and dirty in bed.
At least here I can be…productive and uncomfortable.
” As if to demonstrate his point, he shifted yet again, causing several files to slide off his lap and scatter across the floor. “Dammit.”
“That thing was a terrible idea,” Gunnar remarked, watching with obvious amusement as Bryn struggled to collect the fallen papers without getting up.
“It’s ergonomic,” Bryn said, stretching as far as he could to reach a wayward piece of paper. “Almost…got it…”
“Very dignified,” Gunnar commented.
Bryn shot him a look. “We can’t all be perfect specimens of professionalism and I’m not the one using my trash can as a basketball hoop.
” He finally gave up and rolled off the beanbag onto his hands and knees to gather the scattered reports.
“Though I have to say, the view from your desk must be spectacular right now.”
“Improving by the second.”
Bryn wiggled his ass then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Where’s Emmett? He’s thirty minutes late, which is approximately twenty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds longer than he’s ever been late before.”
“Maybe he realized that trying to organize the two of us is a lost cause and ran away.”
Bryn was about to retort when the door to their shared office opened. Emmett appeared, looking disheveled. His normally immaculate shirt was rumpled, and his bow tie was askew. He stopped short in the doorway, taking in the sight of Bryn on his hands and knees surrounded by a sea of papers.
“What…happened here?” Emmett asked. “What have you two done to my filing system?”
“Well, well, well,” Bryn drawled, crawling back to his beanbag where he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Emmett flushed. “Good morning to you too.”
“Good morning? It’s past nine-thirty. Where have you been?” Bryn narrowed his eyes in gleeful suspicion. “Wait a minute. Is that the same bow tie you wore yesterday?”
“You didn’t see me yesterday, so how would you know? But no, it’s not,” Emmett said too quickly, setting down a container on his desk. “I brought cookies.”
“Homemade cookies?” Gunnar asked, looking up from his work with interest. He sniffed. “They smell good. There’s something else…oh.” He grinned. “Someone’s been having a fun time.”
“I like…baking.”
“You’re deflecting, Emmett,” Bryn accused. “And since when do you bake?” With a heroic effort, Bryn scrambled to his feet. He sauntered over to Emmett’s desk then levered the lid off the cookie tub.
“I’ve always baked, but I don’t get a lot of time,” Emmett replied. “And I thought you might appreciate something sweet.”
Gunnar came to stand next to Bryn and reached for a cookie. “They’re soft.”
“Because he just made them,” Bryn said, grabbing one for himself and taking a large bite. “The question is, whose kitchen did he use?”
Emmett busied himself with organizing papers on his desk, his flush deepening.
“Oh my god,” Bryn said around a mouthful of cookie, crumbs tumbling down his shirt. “These are great. You were at Warden’s place, weren’t you? You went there after you got back from New York. You and Warden are…”
“We have a meeting in the conference room in fifteen minutes,” Emmett interrupted, avoiding eye contact. “I’m going to set up the presentation materials.” He fled the office with remarkable speed.
Gunnar shook his head. “You’re relentless.”
“It’s part of my charm,” Bryn replied. “Something happened there and I need details.”
“Don’t embarrass him, he can’t defend himself like you can.” Gunnar stretched and his plaid shirt rode up, revealing a strip of tanned skin that drew Bryn’s attention. “See something you like?”
“Maybe.” Bryn moved closer, slipping his fingers through Gunnar’s belt loops. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that we don’t have to hide this anymore?”
“Only about a dozen times.” Gunnar’s hands settled on Bryn’s hips. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”
“Get a room,” came Giles’ voice from the doorway. “You two make maple syrup seem sour.” His gaze swept the office, lingering with distinct disapproval on the beanbag and the surrounding chaos. “What in God’s name have you been doing in here?”
“Paperwork,” Bryn said. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Did Emmett tell you to get your butts to the conference room?” Giles asked. “Or did you traumatize him with this mess?”
“He’s fine and of course he did. He also brought us cookies.” Bryn said. “What did you bring?”
“Some much needed sartorial style and a bad attitude.” Giles turned on his heel and left.
“There’s nothing wrong with my style,” Bryn muttered as he and Gunnar followed Giles down the stairs.
“You can’t go wrong with black.” Gunnar grinned.
“Whereas plaid…”
“Makes me look like a lumberjack. I know. But as you seem to enjoy climbing me like a tree…”
“Oh my God…” Bryn had to adjust his jeans. “You had to say that now, didn’t you?”
Emmett had already set up at the head of the table, and Warden stood nearby, reviewing something on a tablet. Bryn caught Emmett stealing a glance at Warden when he thought no one was looking. Don’t say anything, Bryn. Be good.
“Good, you’re here,” Warden said as they took their seats. “We have several matters to discuss.”
Once everyone was settled, Warden launched into the briefing. “First, an update on our recent operations. Agent Mercer.”
Bryn perked up. “With everything that went down in Philly, I’d forgotten she was picked up at the same time. What’s the latest?” Bryn asked.
“She’s being held by the FBI here in Boston,” Warden said. “They’ve been questioning her for days, but they’re not getting much. We don’t yet know whether she works for Russo, for some government department or is a plant. She’s very tight lipped.”
“I could read her,” Bryn offered. “Cut through all the bullshit and find out what she is. If she refuses to answer questions, I can still get memory and intent.”
The room fell silent as Warden considered this. “With a potential leak, we need to be cautious about working with the Feds.”
“Bell will let me read him if he’s honest,” Bryn pointed out. “We have jurisdiction in gene-related matters, and if she is working for The Hammer, we need to know.”
“He has a point,” Giles said. “And we need answers faster than the FBI’s getting them.”
Warden drummed his fingers on the table. “Fine. I’ll arrange it. But this is a fact-finding mission only, Bryn. You go in, you read her, you leave. No improvisation.”
“When have I ever gone off script?” Bryn asked, all wide-eyed innocence. Everyone in the room stared at him. “Okay, fair point. But I’ll behave, promise.”
“Gunnar,” Warden continued. “Keep him on track.”
Gunnar nodded. “Of course.”
“While I get this sorted,” Warden said, “you can get back to support requests, Bryn. You can start lining up more cases. The backlog is growing and with Russo out of the country, we may have capacity to pick off a few. Emmett can assist.”
“Yes, sir,” Emmett said.
Bryn caught the look that passed between them and filed it away for future teasing material.
“Gunnar, I need you to work with the security team. If The Hammer is escalating, we need to anticipate his next move. Giles will work with you.”
The meeting continued with updates on other matters, but Bryn’s mind was already focused on what lay ahead. Reading Agent Mercer could provide crucial information about The Hammer’s plans, assuming she knew anything of value, or expose her government paymasters.
As they filed out of the conference room, Bryn caught up to Emmett. “Ready to hit the files, partner? Unless you’d rather bake some more cookies with the boss?”
Emmett’s ears turned pink. “Ten minutes. I’m getting us coffee first.”
Back in the apartment, Bryn set his laptop up next to Emmett’s computer then dragged Gunnar’s chair over so they could sit together. Emmett appeared with two extra-large takeout cups from the staff restaurant about ten minutes later.
“One of these is for you…if you promise not to tease me about Warden,” Emmett said.
“You’re threatening to withhold my coffee? That’s devious. I like it.” Bryn spun in his chair. “Okay, deal. Gimme.”