by Julia Talbot
He thought it was kind of cute, honestly. It made him want to lick Dylan’s nose. He’d had that urge more than once since they’d met, in fact.
“It’s true. You won’t know what’s right or wrong, what’s different.”
“Then I should park right in front.” Dylan sighed, a world-weary sound, before putting the vehicle back in gear. “We don’t need to be running a mile if someone comes after us. I’ll make it clear I’m armed. With any luck they’ll think I’m a cop and leave us be.”
“You read as penal officer. No worries.”
“Gee, thanks.” Turning at a cul-de-sac, Dylan steered them back to his apartment. “Do I smell like prison sweat?”
“No. You smell like—” He inhaled, nose twitching. “—moonlight and water.”
Dylan laughed, the sound delighted. “Wow. That’s way better than cop car and doughnut crumbs.”
“Mmm. Doughnuts.” Rey had to grin. He loved sweets. With raisins. And frosting.
“Do you like them? I know a killer shop that does pastry and good coffee. Even this late in the day, they’ll have good stuff!” Dylan actually bounced. How utterly cute.
“Can we? After? I’d love that.” He’d need something good after all this bother.
“I would too. We’ll do it.” They slid to a stop, and Dylan put a hand on his arm when he would have hopped out of the SUV. “Give it just a moment.”
“Fine.” He wasn’t eager to go back there. Not at all.
Dylan watched everything, the rearview mirrors, the door to his apartment. He wasn’t sure what signs Dylan might be looking for, but Rey watched too.
That was his job, after all. Looking at everything. He didn’t see anything more than what he’d already noticed, but then he hadn’t the other day either.
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t like this. You know that, right?”
“Yes. You just want my clothes from the day of the pickup, correct?”
“That’s it. In and out.” Alan snapped his fingers.
“Indeed. In and out. Quick as a bunny.”
“Or a fox through a doggie door.” Dylan winked broadly, then pulled out his phone. “In case we need pictures, so I won’t have to fumble for it.”
Rey grabbed his key and nodded. “Let’s go.” He hopped out of the car and started toward the apartment, his entire body twitching from the vibrations he was sensing in the air and along the ground. Someone was watching. Hopefully it wasn’t someone with a gun.
“Hurry up, Mercier.”
“Yes. Yes, hurry up.” He couldn’t run. That triggered the prey drive in anything that might lay in wait for them.
Dylan already had the door open.
The smell made Rey gag and step back. Rotten. Rotten fish.
“Jesus. What is that?” Dylan turned his head, those pretty eyes watering.
“I don’t know. Nasty.” They couldn’t stay out here, but they couldn’t go into that.
“Come on.” Dylan rushed inside, barking, “Get your stuff.” He started snapping pictures of the main room, then the kitchenette.
Rey headed to the bedroom, trying not to breathe as he went to the en suite to dig through his laundry. The bathtub was filled with fetid water, and he shook his head. That was… so disturbingly wrong. Rey gathered all his stuff, including his lucky socks, but his eyes kept going to the tub.
The tub with bubbles rising from it.
“Dylan….”
Dylan came to the doorway, frowning. “What the ever-loving—”
He pointed to the horrifying green water. He was fairly certain there were eyeballs.
“Get back. Out.” Dylan yanked him out of the bathroom, spinning him toward the front door.
He didn’t question; he ran, screeching to a halt at the sight of a huge beast in the outside doorway.
“What the fuck is that thing?” Dylan was behind him. Right behind him. Close enough to nearly knock him down.
The creature bore a long muzzle. Scales. Teeth. Black eyes.
“Croc.” Goddess, they were in trouble.
“Fucking A.” Dylan’s gun cocked near his ear.
“Uh-huh. There’s one coming from the tub.” Rey was caught by the croc’s faceted eyes. “Please tell me you know what to do.”
“I have no idea. They’re armored, kinda. I need to go for the belly or the eye.”
“Uh-huh.” Oh. Oh. Gracious. “The window?” He wasn’t sure he could move.
“That sounds like a damn good idea. The one thing we got on them is speed.”
“’Kay. Now is good. He’s rather hypnotizing me.”
There was no warning. The croc in front of them lunged. Dylan moved faster, tossing him at the window. Rey threw his arms up as he crashed through the glass, glad it was one big piece of thin stuff and not those old panes with all that wood.
He rolled along the grass, holding his dirty clothes against the curve of his body. Get in the car. Come on. Stand up and move.
Dylan landed next to him on the ground seconds later, then jumped to his feet, grabbed Rey up under one arm, and ran.
He didn’t struggle, didn’t fight. He just helped as best he could, like opening the car door when Dylan set him down and turned to fire a few shots across their back trail. He crawled into the car, screaming as a huge clawed hand slammed into the passenger window. “Come on!”
“Got it.” Dylan ducked into the car. “Shit. Shit!”
“Start the car! Please, we must go!”
The scaly hand slammed again, the window cracking.
The engine roared to life. Dylan slapped the car into gear, squealing out backward. Rey slid into the floorboard, curling up into a tight ball.
Dylan was the expert. Rey would let him drive.
DYLAN BURNED out of the parking lot, his body kind of on autopilot. Croc shifters. Like, dire ones who could move like men. Fucking A, that smell. It permeated everything.
As soon as he thought they were clear, he hit the hands-free. “Call Mick.”
The phone rang twice, and then his Alpha answered with a bark. “What’s wrong?”
“Two croc shifters at my client’s apartment. Waiting. One in the goddamn tub. We got a problem.”
“Crocs? Are you sure?”
“Boss.” Of course he was fucking sure.
“Sorry. That’s damn rare. Okay, go to safe house three. I’ll meet you there.”
“Got it.” Safe house three was a nice little condo in Evergreen, but they never spoke on an unsecured line about locations or driving times.
Little Rey was in a ball in the floorboard, all red fur and fuzzy tail.
He’d bet a fox could hide far better than a human. Or a wolf, for that matter.
“I expect a check-in when you’re settled.”
“You got it.”
“Mercier?”
“Foxed out.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can find on crocs. Someone will do a drive-by too, see what they can see.”
“Well, proceed with extreme caution,” Dylan warned. His nose twitched, the kitty-yet-canine smell of fox filling his senses. It was pleasant enough to kill the gross of croc. “Those bastards are huge and creepy.”
“And stinky, if memory serves.” Mick laughed roughly. “See you soon.” The line went dead.
“Okay. That was good. You okay, little guy? They didn’t hurt you?”
Rey bared surprisingly sharp, long teeth at him.
“Huh. Does that mean you’re hurt, or I’m not allowed to call you ‘little guy’?” He made three rights and a left. The white sedan wasn’t following him. Good.
Rey crawled up in the passenger seat and hopped up to look out the window.
“Right. Well, we’re going to a safe house. I need to stop at a McDonald’s, though. Scan the car for devices.” Buy about thirty hamburgers, ten twenty-piece chicken nuggets, and a small vanilla shake.
Adrenaline made him hungry, and Mick would be starving.
He imagined Rey would be hungry to
o. Either that or totally mindless with fear. Who knew? The guy looked pretty… calm in his fox form.
He’d actually been relatively calm in human form, if a little deer-in-the-headlights, but not a panicky idiot. Dylan was glad. The getaway was so much easier that way.
Going out the window had even been Rey’s idea.
The glass had been a gamble. If it had been double pane….
Dylan pulled into the parking lot of a McD’s, then grabbed his little device scanner out of the glove box. Thank God for websites like Spy Guy.
By the time he’d worked through Rey’s clothes, there was a naked man in his passenger seat. He handed up the still sort of clean if a bit glass-studded khakis.
“Thanks. That was—what were those things?” Rey’s eyes were huge in his thin face.
“I’ve heard of shifters who can do that. Be half and half. I can’t.”
“No. No, I can’t either.” Rey rolled the window down and shook out the pants.
“Good to know.” Dire cave fox kinda seemed silly…. Dylan chuckled.
“I bite, you know. Hard.”
“I saw those teeth of yours. Okay, we’re clean.” No bugs or trackers. Now food.
“Drive-through?”
“God, yes. What do you like?” He hopped back in the driver’s seat, waiting for Rey to buckle in.
“Big Macs. Please.”
“You got it.” He ordered ten nuggets, five large fries, two Big Macs, a dozen Quarter Pounders, and a drink for him and Rey. And that shake.
By the time they got to the window, they were both buzzing, stomachs snarling.
“Unwrap me a Quarter Pounder?” He could wait on the rest, but he needed something now.
“Sure.” The burger was unwrapped nice and quick, handed over as if by someone who knew how to eat on the run.
“Thanks.” Dylan wolfed down the burger, feeling better the moment it hit bottom. God, he hated being ambushed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I didn’t even know those creatures were possible.”
“Oh man, of course you didn’t.” He spared Rey a glance. “This is more serious than I figured, though. That kind of thing doesn’t come cheap.”
“Good thing I live in my car, I suppose?”
“You don’t need to, and once this is over, you can… get another apartment.” That place would need to be bombed to get that smell out.
“Yes. I’ll probably have to do that.”
“I bet.” He steered onto the highway.
Rey didn’t eat; he sat there, head down, nose twitching.
“You okay?” He thought the food smelled fine.
“Of course I am.”
“You were hungry a moment ago, honey.” That stillness worried him.
“I know. Adrenaline, I suppose.”
“Sure.” Dylan handed Rey a Coke. “The sugar will help.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it, I swear.”
“Do what? Honey, if you knew who these people were, you would know about the crocs.”
“Yes. Gracious.” Rey sipped the Coke, color slowly creeping back into the lean face.
Poor guy. Not everyone was made for this shit. Dylan did this work because he wasn’t good at anything else. Too many years as a cop to not be danger wolf.
“I’ve been in some tight spots, even been beat up pretty badly, but… nothing like that. I’m glad you were there.”
“Me too. Eat. Have some fries if the meat is too much right now.” Carbs good. Beating up the fox bad. The idea made him growly, in fact. Very protective and kinda like he wanted to find whoever had hurt his fox—His? He wanted to hurt them too.
“I’m pretty omnivorous.” Rey nibbled on a chicken nugget.
“Raisins, the boss said.” He winked. “I bet Mick brings more cookies.”
“I love raisins, yes.”
“Cool. We’ll grab some stuff at the store when we’re settled.”
“Okay. I just… I can’t even begin to find words. That was… intense.” Rey ate another chicken nugget. “You want one?”
He looked at his hand. The burger was gone. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”
“Sure. You expended a lot of muscle twitch energy.”
“I did?” He chuckled. “It seemed like slow motion. It’s always that way when my gun is out.”
“I was caught. Those eyes.” Rey shivered. “God, they were… did you notice or was it just me?”
“I didn’t look. You told me how you were hypnotized, so I avoided it.” Dylan took the nugget Rey handed over.
“Oh, good. We might have been terribly fucked otherwise, in the bad way.”
“You know it. Never look a reptile in the eye.” Dylan munched a couple more nuggets, laughing at Rey saying fucked. “Eat something else, man.”
“A dire crocodile. Where on earth do you find a dire crocodile?”
“Direct mail? Get it? Dire-ect?” Dylan hooted, and damn if Rey didn’t snort-chuckle.
That was enough to let Rey relax, breathe, and eat a hamburger.
They pulled up at the safe house maybe fifteen minutes later, and Dylan parked around back. He and Mick would switch vehicles, so no one would have seen the one he was using with Rey.
“Are you going to leave now? I mean, after we go in?”
“No. Not now. If I have to go do some leg work, someone else will come stay with you.” Dylan checked all his danger areas before leading Rey in the back of the unit. The condo was great that way, with ways to get in and out without being seen. He would like a unit like that to live in, but damn if he could afford it.
Still, he fully intended to spend a couple of days working in luxury here, trying to figure out what the actual fuck.
He would put in all the virtual legwork he and James could do before he hit the streets again. It had been a mistake to run before knowing what he was getting into.
He admitted, he hadn’t honestly believed that someone was trying to murder Rey. Scare him? Hurt him, yes. Murder? No.
Those crocs were out to do damage. They didn’t care about the smell, about leaving a trace. They had been ready to eradicate this fox.
He had to admit, he had to wonder what Rey had really done. No one was chased like this without reason. No one spent the kind of money to have someone killed over a human resources file.
So what did he have?
“Do you have anything from the office you picked up and dropped off at? Anything at all? Even a business card?”
“I have my contact there. He and I have known each other a long time. He’s in my phone, of course.”
“What the hell could it be that they wanted so bad?” He held up a hand after unlocking the door. “Stay here. If you see someone coming who’s not Mick, fox out and run.”
“Fair enough.” Rey watched him with those preternaturally bright eyes.
He did a quick check of the condo, then called Rey in. “We’re good.” The place was clean as a whistle, and no one seemed to be on their back trail.
Rey handed over the clothing and food to him and then began exploring, zipping through the entire place. Okay, that was impressive. The fox could move.
Also, Dylan liked that Rey wanted familiarity. Bathrooms, bedrooms, exits. Rey checked it all out. Twice.
“Come sit. We’ll go over it again while we wait for Mick.”
Rey came over and curled up into a heavy stuffed chair, staring at him. “Okay, ask away.”
“You want your Coke?” He was gonna eat some more, but he felt weirdly self-conscious about it if Rey had nothing.
“Please. Can I have the other Big Mac? I didn’t want to eat and make you watch.”
“I’m totally gonna eat more.”
Dylan brought their feast to the couch, handing over Rey’s Big Mac and fries. Mick would just have to eat alone if they were done.
“Thank you.” Watching Rey eat was fascinating—neat and precise, tiny little quick bites. Dylan couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stop staring at the fox’s m
outh. Those lips fascinated him, made his skin too tight and hot. Not that he should be looking at a client that way.
“Do I have something on me?” Rey licked his lips.
“Huh? No. No, I was just….” Perving? Bad wolf.
“Just?” Rey licked the corner of his mouth, and that pink tongue was… delectable.
“I’m just watching you eat. We’re all slobs. You’re so not.” Was that a good enough excuse? “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird.”
“You don’t. It’s nice to be seen right now. Especially after… earlier.”
“I hear you.” He’d thought sure he’d gotten them both killed, and it was his job to protect Rey and find out what was going on. “So who did you see when you picked up the files?”
“Corde Lesman. He’s my contact. A sweet bunny who’s in charge of the HR library.”
“Bunny? Really?” Huh. Well, bunnies weren’t exactly into espionage, usually. “What about when you dropped off?”
“I gave the file back to Corde. He was heading into the office and I just gave it back.”
“Where?” Not in the office? That might account for some kind of transfer, even if it was one Rey knew nothing about.
A knock sounded on the door, so Dylan rose, drawing his sidearm. “Stay down from the windows.”
Usually Mick texted when he was close.
Rey curled down, shrinking back against the chair. “Be careful.”
“I will.” He was pretty sure it was Mick, but what if not texting was a message in itself? He peered out the window without presenting a target. Okay. Mick. No crocs. He eased the door open. “What—”
“I brought doughnuts. My phone is charging.”
“Fucker. You worried me.” Not scared. Totally not scared. Just worried.
“Sorry. I was juggling.” Mick handed over an enormous cardboard box of doughnuts. “I smell meat.”
“McD’s. On the kitchen table.”
“You rock. Mr. Mercier. How are you?” Mick took in Rey with a quick glance.
“A little wigged. Dylan was very brave. Can we close the door, please?”
“Sure.”
Dylan shut it and locked it so Mick could go lay down doughnuts and get burgers and nuggets. Mick handed Dylan another box. “Walk me through the crocs?”