Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
TOM
Bryce Reynolds was nothing like the career-hungry people Tom dealt with on a daily basis. He said what he meant and asked what he wanted to know, but Tom didn’t mistake that straightforwardness for lack of astuteness, not for an instant.
His mind flicked back over the dossier he’d read on Bryce, and he had to firmly shut it out of his mind. It felt like cheating. Also, it didn’t tell him the important things, like why Bryce had made certain choices.
“Anywhere else you want to look?” Bryce asked.
And with a rush of disappointment, Tom remembered he was here to work. Not to sit in the fall sunshine with a long-limbed guy with the easiest smile and warmest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Honestly, I don’t much like your barn,” he said. “It’s the perfect distance for cover if someone wants to rush the house. I want to check out the approaches on the far side.”
“Maybe what it needs is a bit of Chaos and Mayhem,” Bryce mused.
The light in his eyes let Tom know he’d said it on purpose, wanting Tom to ask what he meant.
“If you say so,” was all he said.
But Bryce’s disappointed expression was too much to ignore. Okay, then, he’d bite. “What—or who—are Chaos and Mayhem?”
Bryce grinned, and Tom was glad he’d asked, because that smile was like basking in sunshine.
“You’ve already seen Mayhem, planting her flag on the feed-shed roof. Chaos is the other little demon. If anything, she’s even worse. At least, she was until Colby came along, but now she spends half of each day trotting around behind him, like he’s bewitched her.”
It was the perfect opening to ask about Colby, but Tom couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to break the quiet ease that had settled between them, and he was also fairly certain Bryce would refuse to answer.
“And you think the goats would, what—fight off intruders?” Tom asked instead.
Bryce shuddered. “They would be more than capable. But I was thinking more about the noise they’d kick up if someone walked past when they were shut in a stall.
It would give us warning.” He wrinkled his nose.
“On the other hand, they’d probably raise Cain every time so much as a mouse stirred in their stall, so perhaps that’s not one of my better ideas. ”
He stood up, stretching in a way that caused the hoodie to raise and reveal a sliver of skin as he looked out over the view below. Then he turned to Tom, and caught the direction of his eyes. A smile dawned, and he ran his eyes over Tom in turn, slow and appreciative.
The moment lasted, longer than it should, as something flickered between them.
But then Tom glanced away, letting the tension between them ease away. From the faint shift in Bryce’s expression—something tight around the eyes, quickly hidden—he guessed he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep a line drawn between professional and personal.
However tempting Bryce was, Tom didn’t sneak any sideways glances when they both stripped and put their stuff back in the stash box.
It felt too close to crossing that line.
He was glad Bryce appeared to be of a similar mind, because just being this close to Bryce when both were naked, even with nothing sexual about it, was doing odd things to his breathing.
He was relieved to shift and make his way back down the hill in Bryce’s tracks, noting possible ambush points as they moved.
After shifting and dressing again at the house, they crossed the yard toward the barn. Made of solid, weathered wood, its wide doors stood open. And Tom didn’t like it any more than he had the previous day. Sure, as barns went, it was fine. It was the positioning he had a problem with.
Bryce walked beside him, comfortable and easy. “Heads up,” he said with a grin. “We’re about to be attacked.”
He wasn’t wrong. As soon as they stepped inside, a black goat trotted out of a nearby stall, eyed Tom with unsettling intelligence, then gave a disdainful flick of her tail and wandered over to nudge Bryce in the thigh.
Bryce crouched immediately, ruffling the goat behind the ears. “There’s my little nightmare. Have you been bullying the chickens again?”
A low laugh answered him. Tom turned to see Tristan stepping out of one of the stalls, pitchfork in hand, straw in his hair and a smear of dirt on one cheek.
“The chickens start it,” he said. “Oh, hey, Tom. How’s it going?”
“Yeah, good,” Tom said, and smiled because something about Tristan just had that effect on him.
“So, Councilor Steadman’s definitely going to be one of the ones visiting us?
” Tristan checked. “Do you think she’d—I mean, I’d love to ask her what she thinks about this move to get shifter deaths treated the same way as those of non-shifters, because of course we want more integration but that’s going to be—”
“Tris,” Bryce said. It was gentle, and it was fond. “Maybe give Tom a chance to do what he’s here for before you pin him down on policy minutiae?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Tristan said, but his eyes were still hopeful—and a little star-struck—on Tom’s face. “But do you think I’d be able to talk to her when she’s here?”
Steadman would probably welcome a few moments with Tristan, to encourage him, inspire him, and maybe answer some of his most pressing questions, but she wouldn’t have time to delve into things the way Tristan was so obviously hoping.
“Maybe later, I could answer some of your questions,” he said. “Because while I’m sure the Councilor would love to speak with you, she’s always on a very tight schedule.”
“That would be awesome,” Tristan said, his beaming smile filling his face.
Bryce clapped him on the back, easy and familiar. The gesture seemed casual, but behind it lay bone-deep fondness. Not just a beta’s care or pack duty—it was love, clear and open.
It hit Tom harder than it should have. Maybe because he hadn’t seen that kind of effortless affection in years. Or maybe because he hadn’t had it, even when he’d thought he had love.
Bryce’s background check had stated that he’d fostered Tristan since he was fourteen, but Tom still hadn’t expected to see this kind of closeness, unapologetic and abiding. There was something foundational about it.
A decision coalesced in Tom, something that had been forming as he spent time here.
He was going to be careful what he shared with Steadman.
She could see the bigger picture in a way few others could, but Tom didn’t want to see members of this pack, with the easy love between them, used as pawns. Not even for a cause he believed in.
“So I know Colby made you coffee, but I don’t think you really got to meet him properly yesterday, did you?” Tristan asked. The figure that had been quietly working in the next stall raised his head. “We’re mates.”
The pride in Tristan’s voice was unmistakable, and Tom remembered Bryce saying they’d only just gotten together.
“Congratulations,” Tom said. “How did you two meet?” He aimed his question at Tristan, thinking he’d be more likely to spill the information Tom was searching for.
Bryce moved slightly, as though he wanted to intervene, but he said nothing. Tom wasn’t sure if that was trust in Tristan, or a quiet test of him. He kept his expression open and innocently inquiring.
Tristan’s face had become oddly rigid. He glanced at Colby, at Bryce, then back at Tom. “It’s complicated,” he said at last. And that was all.
Okay. “Well, I’m just checking in on a few things I spotted yesterday, and I was wondering—Colby, I’ve already picked Bryce’s brain, but I’d be interested in your take too. You’ve got military experience, and I’d appreciate your read on any weak spots in defense.”
For an instant, Colby looked frozen.
“I mean, I’m not loving the barn being where it is,” Tom added, hoping that would get him talking.
“Good cover for hostiles,” Colby said, his voice low but sure now that he had something to work with. “But it’s also perfect for setting a trap. Open ground for at least two hundred yards—this place would be a murder box if you had troops dug in.”
Tom had been thinking solely of defense. Damn, he’d been out of the game too long, had grown more accustomed to working the political angles than thinking like boots on the ground.
“Anything else worth flagging?” he asked. “If you have time to take me through what you’ve spotted, that is.”
Colby nodded, and led Tom outside, to point out different areas as he talked about them.
When they were done, Tom thought about asking Colby where he’d been these past three years.
Colby had relaxed a bit in his company, and he displayed a good tactical brain.
But his body language was still uncertain, and he veered between having confidence in his judgment and looking as if he might apologize for even having an opinion.
Remembering Bryce’s comment about Colby’s recent past, Tom decided not to question him. It was clear Colby had been through something that hadn’t yet let go of him, and equally clear he wasn’t any kind of threat. No information Tom might glean was worth forcing him to relive it.
So, he simply thanked him when they were done, and Colby went back inside the barn.
Bryce pushed off the wall where he’d been leaning, watching them. As if he was judging whether Tom could be trusted near his family.
“Satisfied?” he asked, and the word was loaded.
“Mostly,” Tom said honestly. “The rest, I’m going to leave alone.” Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.
Bryce blew out a breath, and when Tom glanced at him, his eyes were bright and warm on Tom’s. “Come on,” he said. “You’ve earned a beer.”
brYCE
By the time they reached the house, the goats were flopped out on the porch like they owned the place.
“Didn’t we just leave them in the barn?” Tom asked, eyeing them suspiciously. “Or are these different goats?”
“God, don’t give them ideas about cloning themselves,” Bryce said. “No, sadly, they’re the same ones. Teleportation’s just one of their demonic powers.”