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“What are you doing?” Sloane asked.
“I’m wondering if this is bulletproof.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know if I can shoot my way through it before trying to jump out.” He turned to the couch and pointed to it. “Do you think if I dramatically throw myself onto this like one of those old Hollywood starlets it’ll have the same effect? I feel like I need to have some kind of bitch fit right now.”
Sloane’s throaty chuckle relieved some of Dex’s frustration. But he still wanted to break something.
“Let me guess? PR?”
Dex nodded and headed back to his partner. “Seriously. When did I become the poster boy for the THIRDS?”
“You said it yourself. It’s hard to resist all that Daley charm.” Sloane’s grin grew wicked. “They clearly got swept up in the gravitational pull of your awesome.”
“You really need to stop remembering everything I say.”
“And miss the opportunity to one up you? Never.”
Dex’s phone pinged, but he refused to look at it.
“Guess they penciled you in,” Sloane teased.
Dex kissed Sloane and booped his nose. “And that’s how serial killers are made.” With one last lingering kiss, Dex reluctantly left his partner to his movies and empanadas. He couldn’t keep his dopey smile back. Sloane had agreed to stay with him, and he’d done so without freaking out about it first. Maybe he was finally settling into the idea of them. Dex tried not to get too excited. It wasn’t as if they didn’t spend a lot of time together. They worked together, and Sloane slept over at Dex’s more often than he did at his own place. But this was different. Sloane’s injuries would keep him from coming and going as he pleased.
The longer Dex spent with Sloane, the more he came to understand his jaguar Therian partner. Therians were far more complex than Humans, and Humans were difficult enough as it was. Not only did you have to get to know their Human side, but their Therian one. As a jaguar Therian, Sloane’s instincts demanded freedom. Dex had learned the hard way. His partner’s need for space wasn’t so much because he wanted it, but because he simply needed to know the option was there, not caged in.
On the drive to Sloane’s apartment, Dex listened to his favorite station, Retro Radio. He smiled when Journey came on. It was stupid, but he always thought of Sloane now when he heard the band’s music. He had a feeling Sloane wasn’t as put off by it as he pretended he was. As Dex drove, he sang along and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, letting the music seep down into his bones. He always felt relaxed after listening to his ’80s music.
Luck was on his side. He found a parking spot on Sloane’s street not far from the High Line. He climbed out of his Challenger and set the alarm before heading for the large brick-and-steel building. No wonder his dad didn’t want Sloane staying here on his own. With all the busy streets surrounding it, the connecting buildings, all the foot traffic, shops, and the High Line running alongside it, there were plenty of places for a perp to hide.
There were also far too many ways in and out of the building and too many glass panels and windows for Dex’s liking. It was a new modern-style building. Simple and elegant. Two sets of metal stairs led to a small foyer with one elevator and another outside set of stairs led up to the High Line. If Hogan did decide to strike, Sloane would be a sitting duck. For all of Sloane’s Therian strength, his injuries would make him no match for a healthy tiger Therian like Hogan.
Dex took the empty elevator up to the seventh floor, making sure to remain observant every step of the way. The hallway was empty and brightly lit thanks to the daylight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling window at the end. Using the key Sloane had given him for his birthday, Dex let himself in to the apartment. He quietly closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, listening. He was met with nothing but silence. Leaving his Chucks by the door, he headed upstairs to the bedroom. Everything appeared to be where it should be. Once upstairs, his gaze immediately landed on the dresser’s top right-hand drawer that contained Dex’s clothes. It had been the best birthday present he’d ever received. Well, the My Pet Monster his dad had given him for his sixth birthday came pretty close. He remembered nearly wetting himself in his Ninja Turtle footie pajamas out of sheer excitement. The memory made him chuckle. Poor Cael. He’d been absolutely terrified of the furry blue thing.
Standing in the middle of the elegant black, gray, and white patterned room, Dex decided he should probably find a bag or suitcase or something. Opening Sloane’s closet, he let out a shriek and jumped back, his hand flying to his chest. At first he thought someone had been hiding in there. Good to know his initial reaction to a possible intruder was to scream like a five-year-old. Man, he needed to get his shit together. He would’ve been annoyed with himself if he hadn’t realized what had scared the hell out of him. Reaching in, he pulled out a life-sized cardboard cutout of Han Solo. “Damn.” His boyfriend was a bigger nerd than Dex had given him credit for. Sloane was so never going to hear the end of this one. Dex planted Han to one side, snickering as he rummaged through the closet for a bag or something he could carry Sloane’s clothes in. He found a medium-sized travel suitcase shoved in one corner.
“Perfect.” He dropped it onto the bed and opened it before heading to Sloane’s dresser. Dex went for the softest and most comfortable clothing he could find, which consisted of a variety of sweatpants, pajama bottoms, and T-shirts. When he finished there, he grabbed some jeans and cardigans just in case. He’d be dropping by to check on Sloane’s apartment anyway, so he could always come back to pick up anything he might have forgotten.
After grabbing Sloane’s toiletry bag from the bathroom, along with his toothbrush, Dex stopped again to think. Had he left anything out? Shoes. He went back to the closet and had picked up a pair of Sloane’s biker boots when he noticed a shoebox with a furry black tail poking out of it. Inside he found the stuffed toy jaguar with its paws still bandaged. Sloane’s little pal from his time at the facility. He couldn’t blame Sloane for not being able to get rid of it. As determined as his partner was to leave his past behind, this toy had been the only comfort Sloane had before meeting Ash. A lump formed in Dex’s throat at the thought.
Sloane refused to tell Dex what he’d suffered at the facility, believing nothing good would come of it. How the knowledge of what they’d done to him would only hurt Dex. The past couldn’t be changed. Sloane was protecting him, and Dex appreciated the thought, but a part of him still wished he knew. It was a piece of Sloane he’d never get to understand.
Dex remembered the research facility all too well. He remembered being strapped to a chair in the cold lab surrounded by strange machines. He’d been scared. Who wouldn’t be? He could imagine Sloane there, in his place. Except Sloane had been just a little kid at the time. They’d experimented on him. Poked. Prodded. Caused him pain. All in the name of science. They’d discovered life-altering information and saved countless Therians at the cost of Therian children. How many like Sloane hadn’t survived? He’d been through so much, yet he continued to push forward. Dex admired his partner’s fortitude most of all. And now Sloane needed him.
How could they expect him to sit around and do nothing while Hogan got away with hurting Sloane? While that asshole threatened those he cared about? But if he went after Hogan on his own, he would be in deep shit with Sparks. Sloane might have let him off the hook for disobeying orders back during the Therian Youth Center bombing, but he doubted Sparks would be so forgiving. Since the incident, the only thoughts occupying his mind had been of Sloane. Now that Sloane was recovering, other thoughts started to creep in. The anger he’d felt toward Hogan during the explosion stirred inside him once more, while a darkness he hadn’t known he possessed threatened to seep into his every pore.
He sat there holding on to the stuffed toy, its shiny amber eyes rousing emotions inside him. Emotions he shouldn’t pursue if he knew what was good for him. After returning the toy back to its shoebox, he placed Han back in the closet and closed the door. He finished packing Sloane’s suitcase and went downstairs. Whatever darkened thoughts were trying to plow their way into his head, they had to stop. Who knew where that path would lead? Besides, he wasn’t a detective anymore. Going off on his own, especially when he was off duty, would be unacceptable. Instead he concentrated on what he could do to make Sloane comfortable at home. As he put his shoes on, he made a mental shopping list. He locked up behind him and headed for his car where he popped the trunk. Something felt… off. He slipped the suitcase in and paused. It was like he was being watched.
Having always trusted his instincts, Dex closed the trunk and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He pretended to send a text, using his phone’s adjustable camera to zoom in and discreetly look around. It could be his overactive imagination, but Dex had never ignored his gut before. He wasn’t about to start now. A Therian stood on the High Line a few feet from Sloane’s apartment. He was leaning against the rail among the potted flowers and plants with a newspaper in his hand. It wasn’t typically the sort of behavior to bring up any red flags. At this time of the day, joggers, tourists, students, or folks out for a stroll could be found on the High Line, though Dex doubted this guy was out for a stroll. Not with the way he kept glancing up from his newspaper to Sloane’s apartment building right about where Sloane’s living room window was.
As Dex looked up, their eyes met, and the guy took off. Shit. Definitely not out for a late-afternoon stroll. Dex shoved his phone into his pocket and raced back to Sloane’s apartment, taking the stairs two at a time to get up to the wooden deck of the High Line. He bolted out onto the platform and immediately spotted the guy speeding down the underpass of the building next door. Dex gave chase, running as fast as he could while doing his best to avoid any foot traffic. As he closed some of the distance between them, he passed rows of small round tables lined up along either side of the High Line. Citizens chatting and eating currently occupied a couple of the accompanying chairs. Before Dex reached the last table, the asshole he was chasing grabbed it and tossed it in Dex’s direction like he was throwing a discus.
“Shit!” Dex hit the boards as the aluminum table whizzed over him, grazing his hair. It landed with a clattering bounce somewhere behind him. Son of a bitch. Assault on an agent. Dickbag was going down. Jumping to his feet, Dex took off after the guy, emerging on the other side of the underpass and heading for the High Line’s sundeck. Thank God the guy wasn’t a cheetah Therian, though he was still fast as hell, and Dex found his lungs burning as he pushed himself to catch up.
“THIRDS! Stop! I’m ordering you to stop!”
“Fuck you!”
