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They didn’t seem able to formulate a new plan of capture. Frack squinted up at the rafters but seemed unable to find her above one of the large LED floodlights.
“Get a ladder!” Frick cried.
“We don’t have any.”
They didn’t seem familiar with flying birds, making her wonder if the gulls had their wings clipped and had been unable to. Either way, Cass caught them by surprise when she hatched phase one of her escape plan.
She was undecided on how long she should linger. Hopefully one of them would slip up and spout out helpful information about the hawk they were chasing. They didn’t seem to be the brightest of goons.
Frick cut off the edge of his flannel, wrapping the scrap around the bleeding, swollen finger. “You have to text her back.” His voice was a sharp contrast to the tone he had while barking orders and threats. A timidness laced his tone now. Was he scared?
“Y-you do it.”
He held up his crushed digit. “I can’t unlock my cell phone. This is the fingerprint I need to open it, and it’s mangled.”
That’s why we don’t put our fingers where they don’t belong.Cass was tempted to shift just so she could rain insults and sarcasm down on them. Maybe with a little luck, she’d drop her secret weapon—bird poop.
She was about to glance around for a closer beam to roost on when a commotion erupted outside. Numerous engines growled, and tires screeched into what she assumed was a parking lot next to the building.
Did FUC shift their ass into gear to come find her? Hopefully one of the stooges below would spill it in interrogation.
The one with all his fingers moved closer to a grimy window. “Shit. They found us!”
“Text Sandy now!”
“How’d they find us so fast?”
Because Grayson is the best hound agent there is,she thought smugly.She beamed with pride, puffing out the feathers on her chest. There wasn’t a critter he couldn’t track. He’d had massive potential as an agent when she met him a decade ago, but he’d needed to learn how to work in a team. It was clear he had that down now. He was more than a dog sniffing out a bad guy. He had a team of super-smart technicians behind him. They excelled at analyzing data and evidence—not that she’d admit that to any FUC personnel. They could be disorganized, bickering, and down-right silly, and Cass didn’t know how Grayson could focus with all the FUCN’A chaos, but sometimes they ran as a well-oiled machine.
She was glad they were on their A-game today. Though she doubted her goose—or rather, peahen—would have been cooked without FUC rolling in.
The large barn-style doors rolled open. A handful of agents pilled in. Frack dropped his phone mid-text.
Grayson stood in the doorway, a silhouette with the faint glow of headlights behind him. He crossed his arms, narrowing his glance at the two men. “Where is she?” His voice was stern and flat. It wasn’t a question but a command.
Cass’ feathers ruffled as the heat pooled in her belly. He was damn sexy when bossing people around. Especially when they were bad guys.
She was about to coo from the rafters when Frick pulled something out of his back pocket. A small metal device that fit in the palm of his hand. Grayson didn’t notice. He was looking at the cages.
Frick took a step forward, raising his hand and the potential weapon.
I don’t think so.
7
Grayson eyed the chicken-wire cages. They were empty. So where was Cass? One of the men touted a bloody hand, and he feared Cass had injured him and was punished. If one of them so much as plucked a feather out of her beautiful body…
It happened so fast. One second the two men cowered in front of him and the other agents, the next… He wasn’t even sure. The man with the beard started to raise his arm, and out of the air above them, a giant bird swooped down. Cass soared down with talons splayed. She raked her nails across the man’s back, pushing him over with the momentum. As he fell to the ground, screaming in agony, an object flew from his uninjured hand, and Cass trotted after it.
Thank God Cass was safe!
Agents swarmed the men to cuff them, not wanting to take any chances. Grayson realized that Cass had seen something he hadn’t. But what was that small object?
He followed the trail the object left in the dust coating the floor when it slid across the concrete. A flat, rectangular device stuck out of a pile of yellow sawdust. At first glance, it appeared to be a remote of some kind. A handful of tiny, round buttons dotted its surface. He flagged an agent to come bag the device. He doubted it controlled a television. It was more likely a weapon. Had Cass not swooped out of the rafters, who knew what could have happened to him?
He looked to Cass as though she could give him an answer. She blinked at him with a large, round hazel eye before combing through her back feathers with her beak. With a shake, she ruffled up her grey plumage. The giant bird trilled loudly, the sound reverberating off the metal walls of the building. She opened her vast wingspan, staring at Grayson. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was annoyed.
Then it hit him. He snapped his fingers. “Who has ASS Agent Sparks’ clothes?” Cass had information she needed to tell him and was unable to communicate that in bird form.
