Chad blushed. “Still working on that, yeah.”
Miles grinned. “You’ll get it. Did you get sprayed?”
“Twice. Man, that shit does not come out of fur either. And the worst part?” Chad looked up, and Miles stifled a grin. “It sticks to my hair in human form. Ugh!”
Miles lost the battle and not only grinned, but laughed. “Yeah. Uh, most of us learn that when we’re pups.”
“Guess I still kind of am a pup, huh?”
“Yeah, well, that’s okay. How are you otherwise? Everything still feel okay? Should I look you over?”
Chad shook his head. “Naw. I’m fine. We have other problems to worry about, anyway.”
Miles sighed. “You guys can’t get involved yet.”
Jamie frowned. “Why not?”
“Interspecies politics,” Tanner answered for him. “If we get involved, the cats could see it as us pretty much declaring war.”
“I will if anything happens to him,” Miles said softly. He stared into his coffee. “It’s killing me. I can’t claim him. We can’t even make love.”
Jamie put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll work out. I’m sure of it.” He looked over at Chad, then back. “Sometimes it’s just a rough road to get there.”
“We’ve all had stuff to get through before we figured it out,” Finley agreed. “It’ll get better.”
Miles nodded. “It will. It has to. I’m not letting him go.”
Chapter 5
QUINCY SIPPED his coffee as he browsed the bookshelf in front of him while keeping one eye on the travelers passing by. He hadn’t yet seen the Three Ds, as he’d come to think of them, but he didn’t doubt for one minute they were there. Quincy had made no secret of the fact that he was leaving Pittsburgh.
It’d taken a lot of patience and will to do it. The day he got out of the hospital, as he was packing his suitcase to move to a different hotel, he’d received a picture of Miles via text message. He’d nearly lost his shit when he saw it, ready to run back to his mate. It took him several minutes to calm down and realize that picture could have been taken anytime. He’d pulled it off his phone, done his best to trace the number and dig into the picture’s meta information, but to no avail. The number was a dead end and the picture’s info had been wiped, which meant it could have been pulled from a surveillance camera in the hospital, rather than directly taken from someone’s camera or phone.
It still pissed him off but was not worth throwing his carefully made plans out the window. He’d saved the picture, though, and would spend time later investigating further.
He’d forced himself to get out of Oakland and get a room out near the airport. He’d stayed another five days to work out the arrangements he needed to try to draw the Three Ds away from Pittsburgh. It had taken a frustratingly long time to move everything around and get set up. He was sure they were still there. He didn’t believe for one minute they’d left him alone. They hadn’t found his hotel, but that was probably because he was using a new name for it.
Now he was waiting for his flight, watching for Dee, Dumb, and Dumber to show up. He’d used his real name and identification to purchase two of the tickets. He had another one under Uther Isaacs and one more under Niles Perry, the new name he’d had in reserve but had yet to use. He wanted them to know he was leaving, but he wasn’t a fool. He had no wish to find himself facing off the three of them again.
Finally he caught sight of Dee crossing the center court of the airport, making a beeline for the B terminal. Right behind him, Dumb stepped off the escalator. Quincy didn’t see Dumber yet and that bothered him, but he’d have to worry about it later.
Once the other two had passed, Quincy joined them on the way into B terminal. His tickets had him leaving within twenty minutes of each other: one in Quincy’s name to San Francisco, the other to Chicago. Niles’s ticket went to Newark. Uther’s ticket to Dulles. All four tickets and gates were through United or its subsidiaries, so all of them were together.
Dee had decided to watch the San Francisco gate, while Dumb had his eye on the Chicago gate. Quincy’s Dulles gate was right next to the San Fran one, so he went over to the San Fran waiting area and took a seat, not bothering to hide. As stupid as he was sure they were, he didn’t think they’d be so stupid as to start something in public.
Quincy, of course, had purchased first-class tickets, but he waited before getting in line when they’d called boarding for the San Francisco flight. When the gate agent announced the boarding would begin for Washington/Dulles in a few moments, Quincy got up and found the back of the queue for the San Francisco flight. He made eye contact with Dee as he did so, and Dee smiled, got up from his seat, pulled out a piece of paper, and got in the end of the line behind Quincy.
It was almost too easy. Just as Quincy got up to the gate agent, the Dulles flight announced boarding for first-class passengers. Quincy handed the San Fran ticket to the agent, made sure Dee and Dumb were only a few people behind him, then quickly sidestepped to look in his bag. When he saw Dee one person back from the gate agent, he smiled, crossed the waiting area, and got in line for first class to Dulles. Dee scowled as he stepped up to the ramp.
Quincy grinned, waved as Dee and Dumb were herded onto the San Fran ramp, and made his way along the Dulles ramp and onto the plane to Washington.
THE REPRIEVE wouldn’t last. Quincy was sure they’d get right back off the plane. They’d never actually go to San Francisco. Still, it bought him at least a few hours. As far as Quincy knew, the next flights to Dulles were a couple of hours away—if they could even get tickets. If they drove, it was at least four hours, depending on traffic and how many speed laws they broke.
His flight, however, wouldn’t even be long enough to nap, much less get his laptop out of his bag and work. Instead, he got fresh coffee and went over the things he’d need to do when he landed. He’d regretted the necessity of checking his suitcase, but he wasn’t about to leave his SIG Sauer behind, not with the Three Ds on his ass, and he couldn’t take it otherwise. Oh, he could get another one in DC, but it would take a lot longer than claiming a suitcase, and he didn’t want to waste the time.
When he’d told Miles about his plan—briefly and more or less in code—Miles had been surprised at the thought of him flying. Quincy could understand—apparently the wolves didn’t take well to it without help—but Quincy had been doing it so much and for so long, he and his cat had come to an understanding. His cat had learned they weren’t going to crash, and though the pressure was uncomfortable, it wasn’t too bad. He’d promised both of them not to fly more than he needed to.
The amount of time they spent in the air amused him. It always seemed like it took longer to get from the gate into the air and from the air back to the ground and gate than it did to do any actual flying.
Quincy was anxious to get the rest of his plan into motion. He needed to buy himself a little bit of time without the Three Ds too close.
So he could finally have it out with his father. This had gone on too long now.
After claiming his bag and getting the rental car—under his own name—he took a breath. He still had at least three hours if they drove straight for Washington. Before he could rest, he had one more stop.
The drive took him ten minutes, even though the hotel he’d chosen could be seen from the airport. The weird loop he had to take added the time. Just as he was getting out of the car to go into the lobby, his phone beeped. Hoping it was a message from Miles, he picked it up, but what greeted him instead made his blood boil.
Another picture of Miles.
Quincy took a few deep breaths. The lighting in the picture could mean it had just been taken. Or like the other picture, it could mean nothing and they were just trying to get to him.
He had no doubt it was Dumber. They were trying to draw him back, to get him to abandon whatever it was he was planning. But Quincy still didn’t think they actually planned to harm his mate. At least, not yet. He’d hop
e his father wouldn’t risk an interspecies war over this. Taking another deep breath to calm himself, he climbed out of the car, grabbed his suitcase and backpack, then hurried into the hotel.
The lobby to the Hyatt Dulles was undoubtedly pretty, but Quincy paid no attention to it. He greeted the desk attendant and gave his information, including his real name and credit card, grateful no one else was waiting. It took too long—then again, everything took too long right then—but eventually he had the key to a deluxe room.
He thanked the attendant, who he supposed was cute—he would have noticed before Miles—and turned for the elevator. A few moments later, he opened the room door and braced it with the slide-latch. He dropped the key on the desk, turned on some lights, then stepped back out, letting the door close behind him.
Two minutes later, he stepped out of the stairwell and into the parking lot, suitcase and backpack with him. And the hotel’s system registering he went into the room but hadn’t yet come out.
He didn’t take any sort of breath until he was off Highway 28, and had taken the exit for US Route 50. He only stopped long enough for food. There seemed to be about a billion Subways and nothing else along his route—according to Google Maps—so Quincy stopped to grab a sandwich. He could shift and go hunting, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to take that risk, at least not yet. He had something else to do first.
Finally he pulled off 50 onto the driveway of the Little River Inn. The stretch of road he was on had an antiques store, a fire department, an elementary school, a country store, and a pastry shop. Oh, and three churches, of course. But it butted up against the Bull Run Mountains so he could let his cat out later, they wouldn’t likely even raise an eyebrow when he paid cash, and it would take the Three Ds a little while to find him.
The downfall to choosing something like a bed-and-breakfast in the middle of the country in nowhere Virginia was that the proprietor inevitably wanted to be sociable and ask a million and one questions. Quincy did his best to not look annoyed and kept his answers polite but short. Mrs. Timmons was nice enough, but his patience was already thin. Just as he was about to say something, her husband came out and patted her shoulder.
“I think he probably just wants to get into the room and settle in.”
She chuckled and nodded. “Of course, of course. It’s very nice to meet you, Niles. See you for breakfast.”
Quincy nodded. “Of course. Thank you.” He held up the key and followed the directions she’d given some five minutes before to the stairs and his room.
He flopped down on the bed and sighed. The room they’d given him had a nice-sized bed, pretty wooden antique furniture, a big round area rug, an armchair, and a private bath. If he didn’t need to be so disconnected, the complete lack of technology—with the exception of an alarm clock on the bedside table—would have driven him nuts. But it would do for what he needed.
He pulled his backpack over to him, unzipped it, and took out his laptop and the three throwaway phones he’d brought along, as well as a few other things. He picked up the first of the throwaways and stared at it, willing himself to make the call.
In all the years he’d fought with his father over things, he’d never have expected something like this. He remembered a time when he and his father had gotten along well, when they’d chosen to spend time together.
He shook the thoughts off. Those days were long gone. Longer than he realized, but gone nonetheless. He stood and paced next to the bed, trying to figure out how to approach this. His anger, his worry over Miles, his downright exhaustion from hiding for so long hadn’t faded. Other people had hidden for longer, he was sure, but it was past time. He was done.
He dialed the number before he could talk himself out of it, checking the time on his watch as he hit Send.
“Hello?”
“Father.” That was all, and Quincy knew it would be enough.
“Thank Bastet! Where are you? When are you coming home? What—”
“Can it, Father.”
Silence greeted him for a long moment. “Quincy?”
Quincy fought to hold back the pure fury flowing through him. “How dare you act like you’re worried? Where do you get the nerve?”
“I don’t like your attitude, son,” his father growled.
“I don’t like what you’ve done, Father. I think that makes us even, doesn’t it? Why? Why did you do it?” Quincy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold on to his patience. He kept an eye on the seconds hand on his watch, then sent a bid to Thoth for wisdom and patience in dealing with this.
“I was worried about you.”
“Worried?” Quincy snorted. “Hardly.” He hung up the phone and picked up the second one, dialing his father again.
“What was that for?”
“You didn’t think I’d make it easy on you, did you? You’re not tracking me that easily. I know how long it’ll take you to get into what you need to find me.” If it’d been him, he’d have already had some of the information, but his father didn’t have the same access he did—undoubtedly why he’d hired Chad. So it would take him quite a bit longer, thankfully, made more difficult because none of the phones had a real name attached to them, were different services, and had been purchased in separate places. “Never mind that. How can you say you’re worried about me when you sent not one, not two, but three enforcers after me? Did it even bother you a little that I ended up in a human hospital?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Father. What did you think I was talking about?”
“The investigator I hired to find you.”
“Unfortunately for you, he’s a friend of mine.” Quincy hung up and picked up the third phone. “Fine, you want to insist you didn’t do it?” he said when his father picked up again. “Whatever. Any hope of ever seeing me again is now gone. Let me make this very clear. I am not now, nor will I ever, come back to New York to take the place you want me to. I am not, nor will I ever, choose a hemet. As you are apparently aware, I have a mate.”
“You have—”
“Can it,” Quincy said, cutting him off. “My mate is not up for discussion.” He took a breath and let it out. “We’re both well aware I am not the right person for the leadership. Back off. I swear to all the gods we worship, I will make your life hell if you don’t stop this.”
“Quincy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t call any enforcers. I didn’t know you were in the hospital.”
“Whatever, sorry. I don’t believe you, not after the hell of the last few months. Back off or I swear, you will regret ever crossing me.”
Quincy disconnected the call, then dropped all three phones onto the carpet and smashed them. The calls could still be tracked since the phones’ identifying information was recorded, but without a live connection, it’d take a lot longer for his father to find the data, and with a prepaid, triangulating the location would still not necessarily get him everything. Since the nearest cell tower was at least three miles away, he was pretty sure he was far enough from the tower that it’d take even longer to find him. With his father’s lack of access, he felt fairly confident he had at least a good twenty-four hours.
He collected the pieces of the phones and tossed all but the circuit boards into the garbage. He took the boards into the bathroom and soaked them in the sink, just to be sure, then threw them out as well. He was being overcautious, but he hadn’t survived the last three months without it, despite his hospital visit.
Pacing the small room, Quincy couldn’t wrap his head around his father not even taking responsibility. That wasn’t like him. For all he was ruthless and could be a total asshole, he usually took responsibility for his ruthlessness. Quincy went over to the window to look out into the late afternoon. The sun was already sinking. It’d taken him longer to get there and make that call than he’d thought.
He shook his head and crossed the room again. His cat prowled just on the edge of his control, and Quincy knew he neede
d a run, needed to let his cat out. Maybe with instinct guiding him instead of overcomplicated thought, he could figure out what the next step should be, how to deal with the questions, worries, fears, and anger still swirling through him.
He grabbed his room key, made sure his phone was turned off, and went down the stairs.
Mr. Timmons sat on one of the chairs in the main room with a newspaper open.
“Is there a time the door is locked?” Quincy asked.
He shook his head and smiled. “Nope. Someone’s always up. Might be one of the kids.”
“Thank you. I need to get some air.”
Mr. Timmons nodded. “Country’s good for that. You could always visit the donkeys.”
Quincy raised an eyebrow. “Donkeys?”
He laughed. “Yeah. We have a couple of donkeys in the back field. We call them our ‘permanent guests.’ They like to meet people.”
Quincy couldn’t suppress the chuckle. “I’ll… have to do that. Thank you.” Before he could get dragged into more conversation, he was through the door, around the house, and walking along the driveway. He’d seen the forest at the edge of the property—it was one reason he’d chosen the place—and made a beeline for it.
Just inside the trees, he looked around to make sure he was alone, then quickly stripped, wrapped his clothes up carefully and stuck them under a bush, then closed his eyes and let his cat out. In seconds he was on four paws again, and he stretched, savoring the feel of the powerful muscles.
HE RAN. He ran as if Osiris himself was trying to catch him and drag him to the underworld. Or perhaps more accurately, he ran as if Seth, the embodiment of chaos, chased him.
For once, though, he didn’t think. He let his cat guide him, stretching his muscles, focusing on the forest under his paws, on cool mountain air, on the scents of animals and trees and summer. He didn’t know where he was going, but the beauty of his beast was that he didn’t have to.
Acceptance Page 6