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He did not appreciate the way Gabriel rolled his eyes at him. “No, you don’t. He’s not just some weak, innocent human. Quinten Amato is a ruthless businessman who does anything necessary to win.”
“And?”
“And,” Gabriel dragged the word out, “there are a lot of fucking rumors floating around out there about him, kid. Some really bad shit.”
Rumors? Hadn’t he said he’d known Quinten for a long time?
“Like what?” he asked, pretending to be interested to see if Gabriel would say anything Caden could use against him.
“All kinds of stuff. There’s a reason they call him a mob boss.” Gabriel shrugged. “The most persistent are the ones about him being a trafficker.”
“Trafficker?”
“Yeah. You know, moving drugs or weapons or even humans illegally or against their will.”
Caden’s heart sped up. That was a horrible thing to say about someone without an ounce of proof. “You’ve seen him doing that?”
Looking frustrated, Gabriel sighed. “No, he’s more careful than that. Back when I was hunting, if I needed something… ethically questionable, Quinten was the one I called.”
Caden stared at him. Did he not understand that spoke more about his own character than Quinten’s? “Like what?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Doesn’t it? You’re trying to convince me what a terrible person he is, but all you have are rumors and half-truths. Either say something real or break the fucking spell.”
Jaw tight, Gabriel stepped closer. “I’ve seen him hurt people. Torture them for information. Kill them sometimes.”
Caden thought about the man from the other night, kneeling on the floor and stinking with fear. He remembered the way Dare had sliced through his throat like it was nothing. How Quinten had told him he’d done well.
How his crime had been hurting someone Quinten cared about.
“Got it,” Caden said softly, reaching behind him to grab the door handle. “This has been fun. Let’s not ever do it again, okay?”
He didn’t wait for a reply, just ran out of the house as fast as his weak legs would carry him until he heard another pop, letting him know the spell had finally broken.
Taking a deep breath, he followed Dare’s scent, wanting nothing more than to leave and never see any of the Kincaid Pack again.
Chapter Eight
To get back to Quinten’s place, he had to fly in a helicopter for the first time in his life.
He fucking hated it.
As soon as they were in the air, he started to tremble, and he thought he might vomit, even though the pilot was holding the thing steady. The entire flight, his stomach was in his throat, and if he uncovered his eyes to look out even for a second, he’d get light-headed, his whole body tingling.
Cats were not made to be in the air.
He couldn’t imagine how Quinten traveled like this with other shifters, but Dare seemed completely fine. The jerk. He sat opposite him and Quinten, his face impassive as he watched the rushing scenery down below.
Quinten was on his phone most of the time, not looking up, even when Caden buried his face behind his shoulders to block out as much of the experience as he possibly could, burying himself in Quinten’s scent and warmth. All he got was a pat on his knee.
When the helicopter finally touched back down on the ground, he pulled his face out of hiding and looked around. They were nowhere near a city.
The helicopter sat in a clearing surrounded by woods. It looked like they were in the middle of the wilderness, but there was a black SUV waiting for them.
“Where are we?” he asked over the sound of the spinning blades as they all disembarked, the pilot, Arnold, not moving.
“We’re staying outside the city while you recover,” Quinten said, eyes still on his phone.
