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Rage poured off him, his profile rock-hard, the pulse in his neck pounding.
"I'm not going to stop you," I said. "I just want to be sure you know you're walking into a trap."
His shoulders stiffened.
"They broke into our room in the middle of the day," I said. "They left Reese's fingers in my water bottle. They jerked off in our bed and in my dirty underwear. Do you think they're trying to scare you off?"
"No, they're trying to piss me off."
"As much as they possibly can. Invade and soil your territory. Insult your mate. Insult you. Then sit back and wait until you come charging after them, too enraged to see that you're walking into a trap."
He was breathing hard, condensation streaming through the cold air as he fought every instinct that insisted each moment he delayed was hesitation, a sign of weakness.
I reached to touch his back, then stopped myself.
I lowered my voice. "If you go after them now, you'll have no problem finding them. They'll have laid a clear trail leading straight to the perfect ambush spot."
He said nothing.
"We have to pull back," I said.
He shook his head. "I can't ignore this. I need to--"
"--meet the challenge or they'll think you've lost your edge, and they'll come after me."
A curt nod, his gaze still moving along the street.
"They're giving us the best chance we've had to get to them," I said. "Or at least to get a good look at them. Do you think I'd turn that down?"
His shoulders moved, barely more than a twitch, but enough to tell me I'd made my point. I laid my hand against his back for a moment. Then we set out.
BAIT
THE MUTTS HAD indeed left us a clear trail. And I didn't much like where it led. Our hotel window overlooked the northwest corner of the city, and while I'd marveled at the distant view--that thrilling triumvirate of mountain, forest and sea--the closer landscape had been less inspiring.
A couple of blocks past the hotel, the city seemed to end in a wasteland of scarred and scrubby fields crossed with train tracks and dotted with industrial buildings. A flat, open basin ran from the train station to the ocean, and this was where the mutts had gone.
When the sidewalk ended, we entered no-man's-land. The bitter wind lashed us and froze our ears until all we could hear was its howl. A faint icy drizzle rained down. The ground underfoot was slick and muddy on the surface, still frozen underneath.
"They're going to see us coming a mile away," I said.
"That's likely the idea."
"We need a plan."
"Yep, we do."
"And that's my department now, isn't it?"
He glanced over, face softening for the first time since he'd walked into our hotel room. "Yep, it is."
"Damn."
*
CLAY DIDN'T LIKE my plan. When I invited him to suggest an alternative, though, he just grumbled that I was the boss. In other words, the plan was fine. He just didn't like it.
West of the train station, we put on a performance for our hidden audience. Clay gestured for me to go wait inside the station. I argued that I wanted to stay with him. We bickered. He picked me up, set me down facing the station and gave me a slap on the ass, along with firm commands, including go, sit and stay. Being an obedient mate, I obeyed.
