“You’re right.” Frank pointed to a yellow Post-it stuck to his phone, a scrawled message on it in Frank’s handwriting—Call Miller. “You want to take care of that or go fill in Stewart and Bridgford?”
Detective Sergeant Ian Miller had called just as they were heading in to see Arlington, looking for an update on their case. Professional courtesy made them keep him in the loop, even though he’d handed everything over to the SCTF. But if they could implicate Smith in the murders or get proof that he was organising the fights—and saying they saw him there wouldn’t cut it—then Miller needed to be involved. The lines of jurisdiction got blurry when the crimes involved humans as well as shifters. And it never hurt to keep the City and Met police happy.
“I’ll do Miller. You deal with those two.” Michael pointed his pen at where Bridgford and Stewart sat two desks over.
“Right.” Harry stood, and Michael reached for his phone.
He’d tell Miller the facts of the case but not that they planned to go undercover at the fights. Professional courtesy only stretched so far.
ON THEIR third visit to the Clapham Common pack buildings Thursday afternoon, Frank parked in the same spot he had the previous two times.
“I feel like this should be our designated space,” he muttered, turning off the engine.
Michael grinned at him. “Maybe I’ll suggest that. We’re going to be here a lot more, I reckon.”
Frank faced him, keys in hand. “You seem awfully chipper this morning. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were excited to be here.” He raised both eyebrows and looked a lot like their boss in that moment.
Michael frowned in confusion. Hewasexcited in a way. Was that a bad thing? “I just want to get everything moving. You know I hate waiting around for things to start.”
“Hmm.” Frank didn’t sound convinced.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” He went to get out of the car, but Michael’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“If there’s something on your mind, then spit it out. We can’t afford any distractions.”
Frank sighed and slumped a little in his seat. “I’m way out of line, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“But you did.” And they needed to deal with it—whateveritwas—and clear the air. Michael continued to stare at him, and eventually Frank gave in.
“Shit, it really was just a stupid thought that popped into my head. You’re gonna be pissed off, and I’m sorry, okay, but Aaron Harper is exactly your type—dark hair, blue eyes, hot, athletic…”
“All shifters are athletic,” Michael replied, more wary than pissed off. “And you think he’s hot?” That did make him smile.
“Piss off, you know he is.”
All shifters had bodies to die for, and a lot of them were what Michael considered hot, but Frank had never brought it up before. And that bothered him. “Okay, Harper’s hot. But so what? We’ve met a lot of hot shifters—women included,” he added, a bit of bite to his voice. “But you don’t see me suggesting you want to bang any of them.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just…” He hesitated, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “I caught him giving you the eye a couple of times.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Giving me the eye?” Michael shook his head. “Jesus, Frank, you sound like my mum.” Enjoying the scowl Frank gave him, he smiled. “Look. I agree, Harper’s hot. I’m not blind. But I’m also not stupid either. He’s involved in our investigation and therefore off limits, even if I was interested, which I’m not.”
I’m not.
“Fine.”
“Can we go in now?” Michael glanced out the window at the building next to them and, with a rush of heat to his cheeks, realised that any shifter out on the streets would have heard him.Jesus. He hated their fucking super senses sometimes. Fortunately, no one out there seemed to be paying him and Frank any attention, so either no one heard or they didn’t care. Either way, it was over and they had a job to do.
“Yeah.” Frank opened his door. “Come on.”
This time when they knocked on Sam Thomas’s door, it was the alpha himself who answered it. “Detectives. As prompt as ever.”
“Alpha Thomas.” Michael nodded in greeting. “If we say a time, then we stick to it.”
They entered the flat and followed Thomas into the kitchen diner, and it soon became apparent they were the only ones there.
Noticing him looking around, Thomas said, “Sorry. The others are on their way back from work. We aren’t all as punctual as you, I’m afraid.” He ignored Michael’s huff of irritation. “Can I get you a drink while you wait? Coffee, tea?”
