Fox and Wolf

by Julia Talbot

  “Really?” The man’s face began to elongate, the fox right at the surface.

  “Really. Seriously, curl up. Fox out, if you need to.” He stepped back, allowing Rey into the room. God, he knew how that felt, being too tired to cope. After years of being a cop, he knew how it felt to sit in a car too many days in a row. Never fun.

  Rey moved to the bed and curled up on the mattress. Dylan would bet his bottom dollar that there would be a fox there in minutes, sleeping hard.

  He didn’t stay to watch, even if he was obsessed with how other shifters worked their change. Dylan’s hurt. Every time. Rey was even more fascinating than others too. So he couldn’t watch.

  Instead, he went to the breakroom, hunting….

  Damn.

  “Hey, James.”

  The big golden-haired mountain lion shifter nodded, munching the tuna sandwich. “Mmmph.”

  That was totally unfair. His mouth had been set on that sandwich.

  James jerked his chin to one side and swallowed. “There’s at least two more bags of sandwiches. Carrie had more brought up when she realized we were all in.”

  “Oh God.” Damn. He found the bags, pulling out an Italian and a tuna. “Hallelujah.”

  “You got two hollow legs, Dylan. Swear to God.”

  “I do. I was premature and I never really feel caught up.” He unwrapped the sandwiches, then added chips.

  “Comida.” Their colleague Brock joined them and grabbed a huge pile of food.

  “So, what you got on your plate, Dylan?” James asked. “I saw the little redhead.”

  “Hot as hell. Smelled exhausted, though. Seriously.” Brock was a horndog and a half, but there was a weird wariness in his eyes when he talked about Rey.

  “He is. He’s asleep in my office.” Carrie would never let anyone get past her, so he felt fine leaving Rey in there. She wouldn’t let Rey out either. “Political, I think.”

  “Ah man, those ones suck.”

  “I like them,” Brock said.

  “You would,” James growled.

  “Easy, pussycats. We don’t need to fight.” Although Dylan had to admit, it was a pretty visual.

  Brock just gave them a cream-licking smile. “Mmm. Tuna. Lots of it. Carrie must be in full-moon mode.”

  “Hey, you’re eating one too,” James pointed out.

  “The little fox went for turkey and veggie.” Mick leaned against the doorframe. “He sleeping, Dylan?”

  “Yep. What did you make of him, boss?” Dylan asked.

  “Nervy. Tired. He’s been living in his car. I do buy that he has no idea why someone is after him. You can tell he thought this was a simple run-and-dump courier gig. Get anything else from him?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Just a few people to contact.”

  “I hate when someone starts out dead. It’s tough to question them.” Mick rolled his eyes.

  “No shit. She was in PR for a politico and there was an underage affair. I wonder if there wasn’t blackmail involved. As in, he had no idea he was bringing her more than her file….” People got very, very pissy when money got involved.

  “That makes sense, but it also complicates the hell out of things. Senator Cooper, I take it?”

  How did Mick always know this shit? The man was connected so deep Dylan wondered if he was a tree instead of a wolf. Roots all over the place.

  “I’ll start digging. I wanted—” Another sandwich. “—to give Mercier a chance to fall asleep.”

  “Shit, I came for another bite.” Mick sat with them. “Tell me there’s more cheesesteak.”

  “And more cookies,” Brock said. They all knew about the boss’s colossal sweet tooth.

  “Oh hooray, cookies.” Mick grinned over, pure big bad wolf. “Good job, by the way, keeping Mercier in the building. He wanted to run bad.”

  “Where did he think he was going to go?” Dylan asked. For goddess’ sake, Rey had come to them for help.

  Mick grabbed food. “I guess to his car so he could keep moving. He wasn’t thinking clearly. It was obvious his reserves were spent.”

  “Oh, poor baby.” James purred softly, eyes flashing.

  Brock sighed. “Kitty, you’re such a mother hen. He’s a fox. He’ll come out of this just fine. You better watch out, Dylan. They invade other creatures’ dens and take them over.”

  “Bitchy poo,” James said with another growl.

  “What? It’s true. They’re like rodents.” Brock snapped his teeth together.

  “They hunt,” James pointed out. “They’re canids.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” Brock could roll out that everrrrrr longer than anyone else Dylan knew. South American kitty. Did they even have foxes there?

  “Are you just being a hater because James was all ‘oh poor cute red fox’?” Mick kept a straight face asking it.

  Impressive.

  Brock growled softly. “Like I give a shit what James thinks.”

  James stood, blinking coldly across the table. “You want to take this outside?”

  “No.” Mick barked out the word, slamming his hand on the table. “You two behave. The client is still in the building.”

  Both cats gave the boss a sullen look individually, but they backed down.

  “Did I miss something?” Kit, their resident bear shifter, filled the whole doorway.

  “Oh, sweet bear. You’re the king of missing the drama.” Dylan shook his head, smiling over. “Hungry?”

  “Yes. Fox shifter?”

  “Yep. He’s in trouble.” Dylan loved this team of misfits and weirdos. The situation was even better than being a cop, because they all worked together, and their caseload never got too heavy.

  “Smells like worry and tired.” God, there was nothing like that ursine sniffer. Nothing.

  “Got it in one. James, I’ll email you a list of stuff for you to check.”

  James was their computer whiz, the one who could find out your shoe size and the brand of condoms you preferred.

  “Excellent. You know I love having something to do. Just point me and shoot me.”

  “I will.” Dylan scooted over to make room for Kit.

  The bear sat, leaning into him in greeting, nose pressing to his for a moment. Mick had found Kit as an adolescent, and they’d watched him grow up into a happy, basically well-adjusted member of their little pack.

  Dylan rubbed noses, then turned back to his snack. Second lunch? Whatever. They weren’t hobbits.

  Kit grabbed the cookies, humming happily over the snack. “So good.”

  “There’s tuna,” Brock murmured.

  “Later. I have a meeting in twenty. No tuna breath.” Kit waved his hand in front of his face.

  Mick grinned at Kit, the heavy laugh lines growing deeper. “Good man.”

  “I try, boss. Anyway, the fox will need watching. He’s nervous enough to try to bolt. I can smell it.” Kit’s sense of smell was better than even Dylan’s and Mick’s, and that was saying something.

  “He’s going to sleep. I mean, who would try to get past Carrie?” Dylan grinned when that got a chuckle.

  “A man who’s scared he’s getting people hurt.” That was Mick.

  “True enough,” James agreed.

  Dylan sighed, taking another handful of cookies to tide him over in his office. “Looks like I’m back to work.”

  “Have fun. Email me deets.”

  “Did you just say ‘deets,’ James?” Dylan stared at the guy, worried he was spending too much time online.

  “I did.” James batted those ridiculously long gold eyelashes at him.

  “Cats.” He chuckled, then stuffed a peanut butter cookie in his mouth.

  “Meow.”

  Dylan laughed all the way back to his office. When he checked, Rey Mercier was still asleep, his huge fluffy tail curled over his nose.

  The clothes were all carefully folded up at the foot of the bed, waiting for Mercier to wake back up. Good deal. Dylan sat at his computer. He shot some notes off t
o James, then pondered his next move. Oddly, he really wanted to go curl up with Rey. Like, a lot. As in, the urge was so strong it unnerved him. Ridiculous, but sometimes wolves could be. He knew this.

  Shaking it off, he pulled out his notebook and pen, then got to work. He had enough to go on for now. The rest would come out in the wash. It always did.

  Chapter Three

  REY WOKE in a strange place, eyes flying open, his nose working overtime. Wolves. Bears. Cats? Cats. Oil. Computers. Tuna fish. Peanut butter.

  Oh. The private investigators. Indeed.

  He relaxed for a moment, his human eyes staring at the ceiling. Thankfully, the change didn’t take him hard. He dressed silently, making sure he was totally put together before he opened the door.

  “Hey there.” The big shaggy wolf who’d been assigned to his case smiled at him. “Feeling a little better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Rey needed a bathroom, a cup of coffee, and answers.

  “There’s a bathroom out in the hall. Do you want something to drink?”

  Oh, blessed mind reader. “Coffee? Back in a jiff.”

  He hurried off and did his business, his stomach screaming at him. Then he cleaned up and headed back to the office, checking his phone on the way.

  He had a few messages, but nothing he needed to answer. Thank goodness.

  Right now he didn’t know who to answer and who not to. Anyone could be paid to betray him. He had no friends or family, just professional acquaintances.

  At this point he just needed to run and keep going.

  “Have a seat,” Dylan said. “Carrie is bringing coffee.”

  “Thank you. Have you found anything?” Rey slipped into the chair across from Dylan’s desk.

  “Well, Senator Cooper does have a taste for underage girls. That’s who your lady was working for. It’s possible she was blackmailing him, I suppose. The firm seems as on the up-and-up as any PR people can be, but there are a couple of players there who have shady backgrounds.”

  “Her files didn’t have anything unusual. Just performance reviews, a write-up, then her exit interview.”

  “So you did look at the files?”

  “Yes. I had to ensure they were what she requested.”

  “They were in standard folders? No special folio?”

  “Just HR folders. Manila. I don’t know why they weren’t electronic files. Those are always easier.” Always.

  “See, that’s why I keep thinking she had to be looking for something to show…. How soon after the drop-off did she call you?” Dylan’s gaze narrowed, but it looked like thinking eyes, not accusation stare.

  “You mean after the calls started? The threats?”

  “You said she called you to come get the files. How soon after the drop-off?”

  Dylan had said he would ask the same questions in different ways, so Rey went with it.

  “Oh, not even two days. I met her with the file at noon, and she began texting the next midnight.” He touched the arms of the chair, his fingers moving restlessly.

  “Okay.” Dylan scribbled notes. “Possible scenarios, then. Someone was supposed to send something with her files and didn’t. Someone did send something with the files and you didn’t know it. Or somehow you accidentally grabbed something. You notice details, so I think three is unlikely. What clothes did you wear to the pickup?”

  “Khakis, a blue oxford, a navy jacket. Loafers, my lucky socks.”

  Amusement flashed in Dylan’s dark green eyes. “You have lucky socks?”

  Rey drew in a bit on himself, wondering if he was being teased. “Yes.”

  “Hey, not mocking. So do I. Mine have flamingos on them.”

  “Mine have rainbows and pots of gold.” He shared a smile with Dylan.

  “Cool. Have you washed the clothes?” Dylan was mostly business, but his whole demeanor was warmer. They had a common foible now.

  “They’re at my apartment. I don’t… I’m relatively sure I didn’t. I wash the socks by hand.”

  “Okay, we need to go get them. If something was slipped into your clothes, we need to know.” Dylan stood.

  “All right. I don’t think it’s safe. It’s been pretty disarranged.” In fact, pretty much was a bit of an understatement.

  “Okay. You stay here and let me have your key.” Dylan held out a hand, clearly ready to be obeyed, like the big male wolf he was.

  “You’re going alone? They’re mean, whoever they are.”

  “I was a cop, Rey. I’m used to mean.” Dylan’s smile was back to warm. Almost sweet. “I’ll get us a good coffee on the way back.”

  “Then I’ll come. I’ll sit in your car. Or something. I won’t be any bother.” He didn’t like the idea of Dylan seeing his apartment all filthy and destroyed.

  “Oh, I don’t—”

  Rey crossed his arms over his chest. “No key if I don’t go.”

  Dylan stared, and he stared back. Then those pretty lips twitched. “Okay. But you have to stay in the car, and I’ll park it out of sight.”

  “Fair enough.” He’d decide what to do next once they got there.

  “Okay. Come on.” Dylan opened the door, where the lady, Carrie, had one hand raised to knock.

  “Oops.”

  “Hey. We’re heading to Mr. Mercier’s primary address. I need to see the scene there, and his clothes.”

  “He’s going with you?” Her eyes went wide.

  “Yes.” Dylan sighed, then made a universal what-are-you-going-to-do shrugging motion. “I’ll take precautions.”

  “I’ll be good. It’s my home. My den, hmm? I’ll know where things are.”

  “I know. I’m sorry it was violated.”

  “Cop speak.” He dared to tease and got a laugh for his effort.

  “You’re right, but I know it sucks. Someone tossed my office at work once. Knowing we had a crooked person on staff was devastating.”

  Rey nodded and sighed. It had been more than devastating. His whole den smelled of… fish. It was bizarre.

  They made their outside to a large SUV, one that wouldn’t stand out among the soccer moms in most neighborhoods, even with the dark windows.

  “That one’s mine.” Rey had a bright red Smart car, packed to the gills.

  “I would never fit in there.” Dylan was wide-eyed, staring. “We might have to do a search if we don’t turn up anything at the apartment.”

  “There’s nothing illicit in there. I swear. I grabbed what I could and ran.”

  “I believe you, but what if someone planted something there?”

  Oh dear. He’d never even thought of that, and he was used to being cautious. Goodness.

  “I— Why? It was a harmless set of files. I didn’t even steal them. Someone gave them to me.”

  “Someone might also have lied about giving you something else to deflect from them. We’ll figure it out.”

  Usually Rey was smart enough to figure things out. Usually he was clever. This was different, though. This was being hunted.

  He was scared. Truly frightened of the faceless, nameless people stalking him. They had destroyed property. Killed his client. What else would they do?

  Strangely enough, he did feel safer with Dylan. So much. Dylan made him feel… settled. At home.

  Silly, because Dylan had done nothing—nothing—to prove that he was a massive protector, but it didn’t matter. There was something about the man…. Maybe the way he cared enough to make sure Rey slept. Maybe it was the way his blankets smelled. Honestly, maybe Rey was just desperate enough to believe anything.

  They slid into the SUV, the leather seats cradling him. How plush.

  “Seat warmer?” Dylan asked.

  His butt heated, and Rey laughed, clapping his hands with delight. “This is awesome.”

  “The boss is good to us. We do enough sitting in cars doing surveillance that he wants us comfortable.”

  “I guess freezing off your private parts is less than fun.”

  “It also
sucks to sit in a hard vinyl seat.” Dylan got them moving, the big machine sliding into gear so smoothly. Not at all like his little car where you felt every bump.

  He could totally sleep in this car, rest. Not that it was going to happen, but it was possible.

  “So, is this your first set of complications on the job?” Dylan asked.

  “It’s the first time I’ve had a client murdered.” That was a good enough answer, hmm?

  “Never had to go on the run?”

  “No.” He sighed. “I’ve had people I was forced to avoid, but this is very different.”

  Of course he’d had trouble. You didn’t get into his line of work without a little danger, but the worst he tended to risk was a hysterical secretary or a client who couldn’t stop chewing their nails.

  These threats, a murder…. Goodness. Rey scrubbed his hands over his face. Then he jumped perhaps a mile when Dylan touched his arm.

  “We’ll figure it out, Rey.” That deep, rumbly voice held a large measure of comfort.

  “I hope so.” He didn’t know what he was going to do if he had to leave the country. Hell, he wasn’t totally sure what he would do if he had to leave the city.

  “We’re good at what we do.”

  Dylan never had to ask for directions. So the fellow had looked up how to get to his place. Why that surprised Rey, he had no idea.

  His apartment was on the nicer side of Aurora. One day he intended to relocate to Boulder or, if he hit it big, retire to Estes, but for now he was happy.

  “Nice,” Dylan said when they drove by his complex. “I’ll park just up this hill. What unit are you?”

  “230B.” He pointed to one of the little condo-esque buildings. “I bet someone’s watching.”

  He would be surveilling if he were trying to find something.

  Rey looked around, trying to see in the gloom. This was his time—dawn and dusk—and he could see a crack in the glass in the front window, a series of claw marks down low on the doorframe.

  Dylan was going to need him in there too. He knew what was what.

  Nodding, Dylan pulled well past his place to park. “That’s why I want you to stay in the car.”

  “No. You need me.”

  Dylan turned to stare at him. He would bet that expression intimidated a lot of people. Those green eyes could he very flat. Hard.