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If this was any other avian case, he would have passed. But the hawk had picked the wrong cat to go after. He’d suck it up for Ellie, his former student. He probably felt more responsible for the attack than usual since Ellie was on an assignment for his class when the bird of prey struck.
“Yeah. Birds of a feather flock together and all that.” She rolled her hazel eyes. “Someone there probably has good intel or, at the very least, has seen something.” As if bored, Cass pulled out her compact mirror from her large purse and fixed some of the spiral curls lining her face.
“If that’s the case, then why wasn’t this already mentioned to us?” He wasn’t just pissed at ASS for withholding the information. There were plenty of birds working at FUCN’A, and any of them could have offered him this tidbit of information. Unfortunately, thanks to bureaucracy and mission chain of command, none of them even knew he needed that intel.
“Because your official request only wanted to know what was in ourexistingfiles.” Her words were clipped, agitated even. “Which means that’s all we were allowed to offer until we had ASS on the ground, fully part of the mission. Remember, this is essentially your fault sinceyouragency made these rules.” Cass absently polished the rhinestone in her pinky nail.
Not exactly true, but she had a point. “Okay. Bird bar it is,” Grayson agreed, hoping he wouldn’t regret this decision. Especially if Cass insisted on driving. Which shealwaysdid.
3
Grayson nearly kissed the asphalt of the parking lot after they arrived at the bird bar. He’d forgotten what it felt like to ride as Cass’ passenger. He’d always suspected that the high heels made her press the pedals too hard, but she’d never admit to it. Either way, his stomach was more than pleased to exit to safety.
You’d think she was a cheetah shifter the way she drives—fast and weaving around any traffic in her way!
It was a miracle they didn’t attempt to kill each other during the car ride. When he complained about her speed, Cass made it known what she thought of his driving, chirping about his inability to expedite their commute“If you were a better driver, we wouldn’t always take my car. You lollygag.”He didn’t share her feelings.
Unfortunately, his uneasiness didn’t dissipate with leaving the car. The bird bar loomed before them. Childhood rooster incident aside, Grayson had trouble trusting animals he couldn’t easily track. Or ones that could swoop him up and carry him away, like what had happened to Ellie last year. And now they were hunting down the bird of prey that could do just that. He didn’t like it. Any of it. And birds justsmelledfunny.
All except Cass,his inner hound reminded him.
Shake it off,he retorted. The fear caused by her speed had managed to distract him away from being in such close proximity to her, but her scent lingered and kept tempting old memories to surface.Focus.
His nose wrinkled as they entered the establishment. Cass inspected him, noting his expression. “Relax. They’re not going to peck your eyes out inside the bar.” A sly smile spread across her face.
Grayson narrowed his eyes, his brain filling with scenes from horror movies using birds as a means for the demise of a character. Until Cass said it, he hadn’t thought of that scenario. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on. He’d rather be safe than sorry.
Cass shook her head, curls bouncing. “You look ridiculous.”
He wanted to snap back a quip about how they were entering a dive bar and she was dressed to the nines but held his tongue. Right now, Grayson wanted to avoid her opening her bird beak and calling attention to them.
He followed Cass through the door and into the dark room. The dim light of the interior was enough to catch the rhinestones on her heels. They sparkled with the motion of her gait but didn’t distract from the smell of sweat and feathers tickling his nose. Grayson struggled to hold in a sneeze.
Despite not wanting to call attention toward themselves, their entrance was definitely noticed. All the patrons stopped what they were doing like they were in a Western movie and a group of outsiders had just entered the establishment. Grayson even thought he saw a man spit on the floor out of the corner of his eye. Gross.
Unfazed, Cass continued to walk up to the wooden bar, heels clacking on the cracked linoleum floor—intentionally, Grayson knew, since she could very well walk silently when she wanted to.
All eyes followed her, assessing her every move. Grayson stayed on edge, ready for anything. He’d never felt more unwelcome in his life.
Not counting what Cass said back to him in Toronto, of course.
* * *
I should have worn a different pair of heels.Cass sauntered up to the bar, cringing as her shoes stuck to the floor from whatever substances had been spilled here and there. If a wad of gum ended up on her sole, she would flip. Feathers would fly. She had a pair of field heels for this reason, but no, she had to wear her lucky pair today.
She hesitated before setting her purse on the wet bar top, inspecting the grime staining the wood. Instead, she balanced it on the crook of her arm before pulling out some cash. She wasn’t about to trash her favorite handbag, too.
The bartender glanced up from the sink where she was wiping down a pint glass. “We don’t serve your kind here,” she said with a rough whiskey voice.
“Peafowl?” Cass asked innocently. The corners of her lips raised in a mischievous grin.
“No. Mutts.” The bartender crossed her arms across her chest.
Cass smelled Grayson’s anger rising. He’d tensed up the moment they’d entered the bar, and she hadn’t been sure if it was the quality of the bar he didn’t like or the fact that it was filled with bird shifters.
She glanced back at her companion and did her best to give him a reassuring wink, urging him to keep his cool. Cass turned back to the wall of booze in front of her, tapping the bills in her hand on the wooden counter. “He’s not drinking, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Grayson cleared his throat, probably struggling with not reminding Cass that she shouldn’t be drinking on the job. He always was a stickler for the rules. Most canine shifters seemed to be that way. Easily trained and forever obedient.
