Shifter Wars (13 page)

My hand tightened around the mug’s handle. “I’m not coming back to work for you. I’m here to help protect Trina.”

“You are an asset to this organization, Kyle, and are welcome back any time.”

“It’s not the
organization
I have a problem with.”

He frowned at me for a second before answering. “Last summer was a difficult time for everyone involved, but in the end it worked out.”

“So the end justifies the means, right?”

“I had to look at the big picture. Joe wasn’t the only person I had to consider.”

I set the mug down a bit too forcefully, and coffee sloshed over the sides onto the counter. “Save your speech for the Supe Council. I don’t need reassurances.”

He cocked his head to the side, seemingly unfazed by my outburst. “I was worried about you. You should not have gone to Nevada alone.”

Deja vu.
“Were you having me followed again?”

He didn’t answer, and I took a step toward him. “Did you hire someone to follow me in Nevada?”

“You are an important part of this team, Kyle.”

“Stay out of my life!” I stomped toward my office.

Nicholas called after me, his voice echoing down the hall. “You just need more time, Kyle. We’ll talk later.”

Like hell we will.
I stomped into my office and reached to shut the door, catching sight of Jean Luc’s concerned gaze as he watched me from his office across the hall.

* * *

Jason pulled into the body shop parking lot to drop me off for my second day at work.

He turned to me. “You set?”

“Yep. Can you hear me, Jean Luc?”

His voice sounded in my ear. “Loud and clear,
ma petite
.”

“Let’s hope I find out something about these poachers today.”

I got out of the truck and slogged through the slush to the front door. Once inside, I peeled off my gloves and rubbed my hands together for warmth. Bruce walked into the reception area and smiled at me.

“Glad to see you decided to come back for a second day. Sorry I bailed on you yesterday. We have a big client who may be bringing in several cars, so I went to his house for a look-see.”

“No problem, Jim showed me the ropes.” I stripped my coat off and hung it on the coat rack next to the door. “I kept myself busy with the invoicing.” I turned to the inbox on the counter but it was empty.

“No invoices this morning? Where is everybody?”

He grinned. “They’ve been a little preoccupied. C.J. found a cat in the alley this morning and brought it inside. You would think the guys had never seen a cat before. At the rate we’re going, we may end up with a mascot.”

“Is the cat all right?”

“He looks to be. C.J. was afraid he would freeze to death, so he brought him in. You’re not allergic, are you?”

“Nope. I’ll go get the invoices from the guys.”

I walked back into the garage and stopped at Bill and Ken’s stations to collect their paperwork. When I came to C.J.’s area, he smiled and stopped what he was doing.

“Did you hear about our new addition? I put him over in the corner. Poor little guy was out in the alley crying pitifully this morning. I had to bring him in.”

I took his forms and tried to peek over his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. I’ll go check on him.”

I walked over to the corner where shelving had been set up to store excess parts. An empty cardboard muffler box held a flannel shirt. Sitting on top of the shirt was a gray-striped cat with large yellow eyes. Intelligent eyes that stared back at me. I glared back at him for a moment, his name hissing from my lips. “Booger!”

The hairy little bastard had the audacity to wink at me.

I took a step toward him. My hands tightened into fists to stop myself from strangling him. It didn’t help my blood pressure to hear Misha swearing in Russian through my earpiece. I flinched when C.J. spoke right next to me. I hadn’t heard him approach, what with Misha’s tirade and my boiling blood.

“He’s a good-lookin’ fella, huh?” He scratched Booger’s chin. “We are trying to decide on a name. Do you want to add one?”

“Princess?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s a boy.”

“I’ve got it. How about Mr. Poopsie or Sir Poops-a-lot?”

The cat’s eyes narrowed on mine.

C.J. chuckled. “I don’t think so. You can vote on one of the other choices.”

“No problem. I better get to work on the invoices.” I returned to the reception area, reaching for my nonexistent Zen as I went. This was Griffin’s doing, I was sure of it. Here I had complimented him for not being a Neanderthal, and then he sends in a ringer.
Damn.

I plopped down into my chair and booted up the computer. When I opened the system directory, I noticed a file folder titled “Mark B.” It had to be Brennan’s file. I opened it to see if there was any helpful information. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find. It wasn’t as if the file would have any data about his side business as a poacher. I clicked it closed and went to work.

Half an hour later, Bruce and Ken came up front. Ken ignored me and walked over to the coffee pot.

Bruce leaned against the desk. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. Quick question, though. Have I met everyone? ’Cause I found an invoice file named Mark B. Is he on vacation or something?”

Bruce frowned. “Mark used to work here. Last summer he quit with no notice.”

“That’s weird. Was he flaky?”

“No, he worked for me for two years. I’m not sure what happened. He asked for some vacation time and then he never came back.”

“Did you call the cops?”

Ken turned and glared at me.

“I had talked about it, but then Mark called Ken and said he wasn’t coming back.”

“Why didn’t he call you?” I asked, in spite of Ken’s Death Ray glare.

“Not sure.” Bruce looked at Ken. “Did he ever say what the deal was?”

Ken shook his head. What an amazing conversationalist.

Bruce kept talking. “Mark was pretty quiet. He would go for drinks with the rest of the guys after work sometimes, but otherwise he kept to himself.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry or anything.”

“No problem.”

Bruce went back to his desk, and Ken walked away without saying a word. I took a moment to go over the story in my head. It just didn’t add up. Ken was lying. Jean Luc’s voice in my ear confirmed my suspicions. “Dead men do not make phone calls.”

When five o’clock rolled around, I shut off my computer, put on my coat, and hurried to the back garage. Ken, Bill, and C.J. were huddled together talking, and they stopped conspicuously when I walked toward them.

C.J. gave me a guilty smile. “Can I help you with something?”

I pointed to Booger, who was circling his legs. “I was coming back to volunteer to take the cat home for the night. It probably isn’t a good idea to leave him in here by himself. He might get into trouble.”

“Didn’t think of that.” C.J. crouched down and scratched Booger’s chin. “My apartment building doesn’t allow animals.”

I smiled. “I can take him. I’ll bring him back tomorrow.” I reached down and scooped him up. He mewled pathetically at me.
Hambone.
I rubbed under his chin. “Is something wrong, boy? Do you need a trip to the vet?”

His yellow eyes widened, and he tried to jump from my grip. I clamped my hands down on him and turned, calling over my shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

I walked out the front door, and as soon as we were outside, Booger started struggling in earnest. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Keep this up, and I’ll have you neutered.”

He stopped struggling. Jason drove up and leaned over, opening the door for me. I jumped in and shut the door, setting the fur ball in the middle of the seat.

Jason smirked. “So this is Booger?”

“Yeah.” I growled. “Let’s go meet with Jean Luc and Misha. We need to pay Griffin a visit.”

A high pitched meow echoed through the truck.

Chapter 17

After I had taken some calming breaths and Booger and I had transferred from Jason’s truck to the van, I wasn’t seeing red anymore. It had calmed down to an intense shade of pink. Jason had bowed out of attending the festivities. Jean Luc drove silently toward Griffin’s estate. Misha sat in the front passenger seat and, other than turning around every five minutes to glare at Booger, refrained from speaking as well. The only one in the van who didn’t seem fazed was Booger himself, who had curled up in a ball and gone to sleep.
Little shit.

The silence was fine with me. It allowed me to rehearse my speech to Griffin. The first draft had been full of expletives, so I was busily working on another version when we arrived. Booger lifted his head and then stood, arching his back. His claws came out and would have dug into the leather of the rental van if Misha hadn’t growled from the front seat. Fortunately, claws were retracted without any damage to the seat or the cat.

I picked up Booger and lugged him to the front door, with Misha and Jean Luc bringing up the rear. I rang the bell, and it was only a few seconds before Stephanie answered.

“Kyle, Misha, and Jean Luc—it’s good to see you.” She looked at my face, and her smile slipped a little. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I didn’t want to freak her out more than she already was about Trina’s safety. “We’re here to see Griffin.”

She stepped back and let us in. “What’s with the cat?”

“Don’t you mean shifter?” I asked.

She hesitated for a moment. “No. I don’t sense shifter.”

I nodded so emphatically I almost dropped the cat. “This is Matthew Johnson. He can mask his shifter self from most paranormals. Jean Luc and Misha can’t sense him either.”

Stephanie’s eyes widened slightly. “I know Matthew. I’ve never seen him in his cat form before, though. If this
is
Matthew, he is very good.”

I glared down into his smug, furry face. He squeezed his eyes shut and purred.

“Where’s Griffin?” I growled.

“He’s out but should be back shortly.” Stephanie smiled at Misha. “There are some cookies just out of the oven, if you’d like some.”

I didn’t even bother looking into Misha’s puppy dog eyes. “Go on and get some, Mish. I’ll wait here for the Shifter King to arrive.” I turned to Jean Luc. “Why don’t you go with him and keep him out of trouble?”

I sat down on the stairs and plopped Booger in my lap. A kernel of doubt crept into my brain. What if this was just a cat? What if I was becoming a paranoid lunatic? I petted his head a couple times, just in case it wasn’t Booger and I owed this poor, displaced cat an apology.

After a few seconds, Trina came racing down the stairs toward me. “Kyle!”

“Take it easy, Trina, remember what happened the last time.”

She grinned and sat next to me on the stairs. “Why is Matthew sitting on your lap, is he sick?”

Booger squirmed from my hold and ran out of the room.

“How did you know it was Matthew?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just did. Mom made some cookies. Do you want some?”

“Not right now. You better hurry and get some, though, ’cause Misha is already in the kitchen.”

“Oh no. See you later.”

I laughed as she hurried through the hall. Even a twelve-year-old had Misha’s number.

I ran my hand over the smooth banister, down the carved spindles of the maple staircase…and waited. A couple minutes later, the door opened, and Griffin walked in with Stephen and Tim. He caught sight of me immediately…probably smelled me first…and smiled. I did not smile back.

Griffin spoke, “Gentlemen, if you will excuse us for a few minutes.”

They walked away, and he held out his hand.

“Would you like me to hang up your coat?”

I pulled the coat tighter around me like a shield. “I won’t be staying long.”

He simply shrugged and led me to his office.

He had barely shut the door before I hissed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Good evening, Kyle.”

“Don’t give me that. Why did Matthew show up today at the body shop?”

Griffin walked around and sat behind his desk. “I thought it made sense to have someone on the inside with you.”

It was probably a good idea he had put space and a large wooden desk between us. “I don’t need your protection.”

“This isn’t just about protection.”

I glared at him to continue.

“Matthew is a valuable asset to this undercover operation. He can listen in on conversations the others will not have in front of you.”

“I’m doing fine on my own! Today, I asked about Mark Brennan and got some information about him. One of the other mechanics lied about talking to him. Now I just need to figure out why.”

Griffin picked up a letter opener from his desk and examined it before answering me. “Let’s ask Matthew if he overheard anything which might be of help to you.”

As if in answer to a summons, Matthew came loping into the room with a sheepish grin. At least he wasn’t naked. After transforming back to human, he had dressed in jeans and a cable knit sweater. Misha and Jean Luc strolled in behind him.