Chapter 16 #3
Because he’d been drugged, chained, and then...And then other things had happened. She reached out to touch him, hoping to connect in some way, but he slammed his fork down and turned away in disgust. “He’s the one who told us to come here. He has to be the one who told her to skip, too.”
Tonya nodded. “We checked Johnny. That’s part of what Mark’s been doing all day—combing through his phone records and the like, but we haven’t found anything yet.” She looked to Carl for confirmation and the man nodded.
Alan glared at her. “That’s because I wasn’t the one to question him.”
Carl shook his head. “You can’t question him. He’s in jail. Picked up late last night in a bar fight and has been sleeping it off ever since.”
Tonya arched a brow at him. “And you were holding this information back why?”
Her alpha snorted. “It’s not a lead yet. Mark hasn’t found anything and—”
“Where is he?” Alan interrupted.
“In jail,” Carl stressed. “You can’t just barge in there and beat the crap out the guy. That’s not the way to get a man to tell you where the bitch is. If it was, you’d have found her by now.”
“I got it,” Tonya said as she stood up. When the other two moved, she pinned them both with a glare.
“Look, boys, I’m the only one here trained in interrogation techniques.
I’m the only one with a badge and as much as amateur hour has been fun, can you please—for the love of God—let me deal with this? ”
Neither man answered at first. Carl’s jaw clenched, but she already knew he wasn’t the problem.
The man had learned to delegate years ago, though he still struggled with the concept.
It was in an alpha’s nature to take charge, but when he didn’t say anything, Tonya knew he’d back off.
Not Alan, who stared at her without flinching.
Who folded his arms across his chest and finally drawled his response.
“So much for working together.”
“So come with me,” she said. “Just don’t expect to go at Johnny like a battering ram.”
“Or come home,” Carl said. “Becca will make lasagna and another cake, and we’ll talk. Or not.”
Alan addressed Carl first, his voice low but no less powerful. “I’m not coming home. Ever.”
His brother huffed out a breath. “It’s your home—”
“Remember Mrs. Morales from down the street?” Alan interrupted.
Carl frowned. “The old lady who always smelled like sour cream? The one who hated us?”
Alan snorted. “She hated you. She liked me. She paid me to weed her yard, and we used to talk legal ethics while she fed me chocolate chip cookies.”
Carl blinked, waiting for the rest. “Yeah, so?”
“Yeah, nothing. I was just thinking about her.”
The two brothers stared at one another while Tonya rolled her eyes. Lord, spare her from man-speak. “He’s telling you that you have different lives.”
“I know that,” Carl snapped, but Tonya rolled right over him.
“Did I ever tell you that I had boyfriend in college who was an art student? I let him paint me. Like really paint on my skin.”
Alan was about to say something as well, but at her words anything he was going to say was choked off. Carl blinked as well, and then one of them managed a garbled, “Wha—?”
“And that’s it for the completely irrelevant part of the discussion, boys. I’m heading out to talk to Johnny. Alan, what are you going to do? With him, with me, or are you walking somewhere?”
“You’re letting me go? Just like that.”
She hated the idea that he might just walk away now and she’d never see him again. Her belly clenched and her palms sweat, but she had to show him he was free. Within the confines of the law, of course. “You planning to steal any motorcycles or rearrange Johnny’s face?”
“Not today.”
“Then you’re free.” She turned to Carl. “Go home. You’ve got shit to do there.”
“So do you,” Carl retorted.
She sighed. “I know. I’m the world’s crappiest beta.”
“You haven’t been around enough to be the crappiest.”
“Well, either give me a few more days or appoint someone else. You know—” Her words cut off when he held up her hand.
“I trust you with this, Tonya.” His gaze settled heavily on Alan. “I trust you with my brother, so take all the time you need.”
She exhaled in relief. One crisis averted.
“I’ll come with you,” Alan said to her, his tone excruciatingly neutral.
“Great,” she said as she pushed away from the counter. “Let’s—”
“One more thing,” Carl said as he pulled a pencil-length hard case out of his back pocket.
She’d seen it there, had even guessed at its contents, but hadn’t wanted to think about it.
Carl wasn’t giving her the choice as he set it quietly on the counter and popped it open.
A filled hypodermic needle flashed in the sunlight.
“It’s the only dose we’ve got for now. We’re working on more, but it’s a complicated process. ”
Alan’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“The shifter suppressant. Worked great on Mark. Knocked back his bear for almost a day.”
Alan leaned forward and picked up the syringe. Inside was an innocuous-looking liquid the color of light beer. “Great. Thanks.” Then he crossed to the sink and squirted the thing straight down the drain before smashing the needle in half.
Carl jerked forward, his voice sharp. “Wait!” Then he rolled back onto his heels. “You could have just said no,” he growled.
“Could I?” Alan challenged, clearly not believing it. Then he did the one thing he’d always done to piss off his brother. He turned away as if the alpha meant absolutely nothing. “How long for you to get ready?” he asked her.
“Alan!” Carl snapped, his voice coming out like a drill sergeant’s.
Tonya stepped bodily in front of her alpha, blocking him from doing anything stupid. “Quit being a dick, Carl.”
“Me!” he exploded. “He’s the one—”
“Let him go,” she hissed. “He’s doing this so you let him go. So you quit feeling like you’re responsible for him.”
“He’s my brother!”
“And you love him. But let him make his own damn choices.”
“Even if he’s got his head up his ass?”
“Even if.” She pressed on Carl’s chest, trying to push him back. He didn’t move an iota, but at least he didn’t barrel forward. “You said you trusted me with him.”
Carl exhaled loudly. “I do.”
“So go home. I’ll keep you up to date.”
The man clearly didn’t want to. He wanted to use his force of personality—or his body—to muscle things into his version how things ought to be.
But no way was Alan going to allow that to happen.
After what Elisabeth had done to him, she doubted Alan would listen to anyone right now.
He had to reestablish his independence, even if that meant finding creative ways to tell his own brother to fuck off.
And if Carl kept pushing, Alan would create a breach between them that could never be repaired. Why the hell couldn’t Carl see that?
Men!
Eventually Carl gave in. He stepped back with a frustrated huff. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go home.” Then he looked at his brother, his heart in his eyes. “If you need anything, just call. Day or night. I’ll do whatever—”
“I know,” Alan said, and there was warmth in his tone but also a huge well of sadness. “I know.”
Carl waited a moment longer, his gaze locked with his brother’s. It was a communion of sorts, one that seemed to ease the tension between them, so she did nothing to interrupt it. And then Carl gave her a quick nod and left.
Tonya exhaled, ticking off Stop Carl from ruining his relationship with his brother on her mental to-do list. Which brought her front and center with the next item: Tell Alan to quit being a dick, too.
And oh goody, she now had a couple hours in the car to do just that.
Assuming one of them didn’t go monster or grizzly and crash their asses along the way.