Chapter 6 #4
I know people—of any species—can be monsters, but it’s still hard to come to terms with it. Yet I’ve just read case after case where people were experimented on, often cruelly and painfully, without consent, all so… what? To further the agenda of a radical sect? How is that right?
In most of the cases, the cults involved were identified.
But based on the way they set themselves up, it was impossible for everyone associated to be arrested and incarcerated.
It’s impossible to even identify everyone associated.
So it’s probably one of these same groups again, which at least gives us a starting point.
I’m making notes on which would be the most likely based on their previous actions when a voice right next to my ear says, “What are you doing?”
I squeal and jerk so sharply that my ergonomic chair rolls away from the desk.
“Fuck. Me,” I gasp, clutching my chest as I whirl to glare at Gideon. “What the fuck ? You don’t sneak up on people when they’re reading about nutjobs who like to kidnap!”
He leans against the desk and crosses his arms. If it was anybody else, they’d probably tease me, but he just looks a little less grim than usual.
“I didn’t sneak,” he says. “I came in, dumped my keys, asked you where the others were, and then when you didn’t answer, I came over to see what had you so enthralled. ”
Oh.
That might be possible. I tuned myself to hear computer alerts and the phone and blocked everything else out—it works really well in an open-plan office to maximize focus, but it does make it annoying for people trying to get my attention.
“Sorry,” I say grudgingly, dropping my hand to my lap and scooting back to the desk.
“I was reading related case files and got kind of caught up. Uh, David’s on his way back, and the others are in the meeting room doing some data mapping.
The intern just went home. I’m waiting for the food to be delivered. ”
That dark gaze studies me. “What are we having?”
I fidget, feeling self-conscious about the way he’s looking at me. This man has fondled my dildo collection. And he noticed that the grip on the demon dildo is getting kind of worn. “A mix of stuff. Pizza, curry, burritos, rice and veg. I’m not that familiar with what you all like yet.”
He just nods, still staring down at me. I resist the urge to squirm or get up. Let’s face it, he’d still be looking down at me, even leaning against the desk like he is.
“Thanks for letting me know about the new cases,” he says suddenly. “Hopefully the number will begin to slow now.”
“Yeah. Uh, I was thinking, if it doesn’t, would we possibly want to consider moving the at-risk couples, putting them somewhere we can protect them better?”
At first he looks surprised, then thoughtful. “There are a lot of them,” he points out. “So far we’ve identified nearly seven hundred. Not all of them are targets, but we don’t know yet who is. Where would we put them? And find people to protect them?”
“I’m still working on that,” I admit. “I just hate the idea of them all being so exposed.”
“We’ll do what we can to protect them,” Gideon says.
He stands, reaches out his super-long tall person arm, and snags the chair from Andrew’s desk, pulling it over.
I’m so jealous. I mean, it’s only three steps, but for once, I’d like to be a person who can just reach out for what I want instead of having to take the steps—or use a stepladder.
Gideon sits, and I realize how very, very close he is. Like… our knees are almost touching. If I was to shift just a little bit….
I swallow hard. “What are you doing?”
“Show me what you’re reading. I assume you’re trying to pull data so we can narrow down who’s doing this?”
He’s. So. Close.
This is dumb. I don’t even like him. I don’t even know him, really. And he’s been a grumpy ass.
I swallow hard. Hormones suck.
“Uh, um, yeah. Here—I’m up to this one from Argentina forty-four years ago.”
He leans in closer to the screen, and our knees touch . Electricity zings through me. He doesn’t seem to notice, the bastard, except to shift his knee away.
I hate him.
I want him.
That’s so humiliating to admit to myself.
“I remember this,” he’s saying. “It was right after I was promoted to the team.”
That reminds me again of the difference in our longevity. “How old are you?” I blurt, and then slap a hand across my mouth in horror. Heat burns in my cheeks as he turns to look at me. His face is an expressionless mask.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing! I said nothing. Sorry. Um. You were saying about the case?” Fuck fuck fuck! Talk about being unprofessional. And it’s not even important—I already have a vague idea thanks to the internet.
I try not to sweat under his gaze, and finally he turns back to the screen. Only supreme force of will keeps me from slumping in relief.
I manage to keep it together while he skims through the file I’ve been reading and adds some observations to my notes.
I try really hard not to let my hormones dictate my thoughts and actions during that time, but I can’t help admiring the long line of his neck.
I understand why vampires like to bite that spot right there —it looks delicious.
“Hey, guys. What are you doing?”
“David!” I leap to my feet, once again sending my chair skidding. “Hey! You’re here! We’re just waiting on the food.”
“It’s coming,” he says, draping his jacket over the edge of his desk. “I passed the delivery guy in reception. I offered to take it from him, but he said you promised a fifty-dollar tip and he wasn’t giving it to anyone but you.”
Gideon swivels to look up at me. “You promised a fifty-dollar tip? Why?”
I shrug. “Sometimes when the guys on my old team stay late, they ‘redistribute’ any food deliveries they can intercept. I told our delivery guy that he got the tip if the food was brought directly to me.”
“Sneaky,” David admires. “And it probably explains why Elinor’s cousin Alistair was hovering around reception looking all gloomy.”
I narrow my eyes, instantly distracted. Alistair’s been quiet all day, which means he’s probably bursting to cause some kind of ruckus.
But before I march out to reception to retrieve our dinner, the delivery guy bursts in, looking like he’s fleeing the hounds of hell—which turns out to be literally true, as two hellhounds follow him in.
“Save me!” His high-pitched squeal fills the room as he races toward us and promptly hides behind Gideon, who got up when the shifters came in. “Some dudes in reception wanted the food and I wouldn’t give it to them so they set their dogs on me!”
I sigh heavily, and the two hellhounds drop their heads in shame. “Sit,” I command, as though they were just dogs, and since they’re now stuck in the deception they created, they do. The one on the left—Alistair—lies down and puts his front paws over his eyes.
“I’m Sam Tiller,” I tell the delivery guy, who has somehow managed to wrap himself around Gideon. Sneaky bastard. “You can let go of him. They won’t hurt you.”
He eyes them warily. “Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. They never would have hurt you. They just wanted to scare you into giving up the food.”
“Well… okay.” He reluctantly unwinds himself from Gideon, who’s smirking, the ass, and takes off his backpack. I check each dish as he removes it from the bag, then pay him and add the tip. I’m kind of tempted to reduce it after the way he threw himself at Gideon, but he did earn it.
He hesitates. “Will the dogs follow me out?”
Resisting the urge to laugh, because it’s entirely likely that they would, just to mess with him, I say, “I’ll keep them in here. I need to give them a talking-to, anyway.”
Both shifters whine, but the delivery guy seems satisfied by that and leaves. I shut the door just in case we get loud, then turn on the hellhounds now trying to hide under one of the desks.
“Stop that! Out!” They both whine. “I mean it. Both of you get out here and shift. Now!”
They reluctantly comply, and seconds later, I’m facing two sheepish men who tower over me.
“You do realize that we’re dealing with a crisis here?
People’s lives are at risk, and we’ll be working late.
I need to feed my team so they can be efficient.
You know this, because I used to do it for you . Remember?”
They mumble a response, but I shake my head.
“Whatever you just said is not good enough. I don’t have time to waste making the human delivery guy feel better and making sure he didn’t see something he shouldn’t have. Get out of here, and I’d better not see you fucking with my office again.”
“But,” Alistair begins.
I raise a brow. “Do I need to call Vivienne?”
“No!” they reply simultaneously, matching looks of horror on their faces. I file that away in my memory for future reference.
“We’ll go now,” Alistair adds. “Please call if you need any help with the case,” he directs in David and Gideon’s direction. “I’ll see you soon?” he asks me hopefully.
I nod, because he’s my best friend and although I’ll never tell him, I find him kind of adorable sometimes.
They leave, and I begin gathering up the food to carry it to the meeting room.
“I’ll take that.” David swoops the containers from my arms. “After your heroic feats, it’s the least I can do.” He winks, and then he’s out the door, leaving me with my arms half-extended and blinking like a fool.
Gideon takes three long steps until he’s right in my space, leans down, and with a smirk that makes me want to rip his clothes off, whispers, “That was fucking hot. Competence is a real turn-on.” Then he follows David out, whistling.
I… what?