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Kit nodded, the heat in his gut rising to a dark simmer. “And did you see Oil Slick in there?”
“Doesn’t matter—”
“Oil Slick had a nervous breakdown two months ago. He retired from Wulf before he got out of the hospital. Now he’s working for mundanes in Florida, keeping all the old geezers’ cars running, and soaking in the sun.”
He could see the news caught Yordan by surprise. “Retired? He’s younger than I am.”
“Yeah, he is. And his hair turned gray one week into the black hole crisis.” He jerked his chin at Yordan’s short blond crew cut. “How much white you got in among the golden brown there?”
“None of your fucking business,” Yordan muttered, though Kit could tell it was reflex rather than attitude. “Who became alpha after Oil Slick?”
“We’ve had a couple, but it turns out, it’s not so easy managing werewolves and big, expensive machinery. Right now, it’s Stick.”
“Stick! As in Stick up his Ass? Aw, hell—”
“Yes, Stick because we needed the machinery fixed, and he can fix anything mechanical in this whole place.”
“He also couldn’t see a packmate melt down if he were standing in hot lava!”
Kit tilted his head back and arched a brow.
Yordan huffed. “Which is why he sucks as an alpha. The guy in charge has to understand his people. It’s not about getting the job done. It’s about getting the people to do the job!”
Kit felt a smirk slip into his expression. Yordan didn’t realize it, but he’d just sealed his own fate. And that smirk made Yordan’s color rise.
“Which is why you interfered and gave chess dad the weekend off.”
“Uh-huh,” Kit drawled.
“Why does the motor pool keep losing leaders?”
“A fairy accident a day keeps the leaders away. It’s brutal, waiting every day for the disaster hammer to drop.”
He heard his brogue seep into his phrasing. Normally, he kept strict control over his accent at the predominately American company. He couldn’t eradicate it completely, but he’d mostly gone Midwestern flat in his intonation. Except around Yordan, apparently. Something about bantering with him had Kit relaxing his guard.
“There’s an accident every day?” Yordan said, shaking his head. “You oughta stop that.”
Kit pushed to his feet. Damn, he was close enough to Yordan that he felt the moist heat of the man roll into his nostrils and fog his brain. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like Yordan was the kind of guy to want an illicit bump and grind in the shower, even if Kit could get past the ethical complications of that. So, that meant he was going to have to go hard alpha on the man, which was so not his favorite thing to do.
“That’s a great idea, Yordan,” he drawled. “Make that your first task.”
“What?”
“You’re getting a promotion. I was going to go gentle on you.” He gestured to the food. “Planned to ply you with a bonnie fine meal and a friendly beer. But that’s not how an alpha is supposed to work, is it? Find the right guy, then force him to do the job.” Kit’s whole stance was one of challenge and dominance.
Yordan didn’t take it well. He didn’t fight back, though; he evaded.
“I’m not the fucking right guy,” Yordan snapped, panic edging into his tone.
“You don’t even know what the job is,” he retorted. “We’ll talk about it as soon as you see Gelpack.”
“I don’t need a shrink!” More panic. Damn, the guy was on the ragged edge about something. Which made it even more important that he start talking to someone.
“So, you’re just fine?” he taunted. “Big macho man who’s been around long enough to know what’s what. You haven’t been affected by the last eighteen months of shit. And any weakling who is needs a good kick in the ass.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking.” Kit reached up and poked the man hard in the chest. He wanted to spread his fingers and roll his palms down the gorgeous expanse of muscles. Instead, he used his nail and shoved. “Well, big man, now you’ve got your chance to put your money where your mouth is. You’ve got the age and the experience. You know the combat packs better than I do because you’ve served with or trained every single one.” He lifted his hand and patted Yordan’s rough-hewn cheek. “So go to it, laddie. Fix what’s ailing in Wulf, Inc.”
