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“Because you are the newbie.”
I strode to my closet. The hangers scratched the rail as I searched for something to wear.
What exactly should one wear when being questioned by the FBI?
Something that made me look as innocent as possible. I’d worn all my dresses, so I picked a pair of dark jeans and a floral printed blouse. Anything I didn’t have to pull over my head was a win. My side needed time to rest, and not have me pulling on it.
I dressed as quickly as possible, sparing time for Dastien to redress my cuts with a fresh bandage.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Dastien asked me as I buckled my sandals.
I glanced at Dastien. “Is that an option?”
He gave me one of his trademark Gallic shrugs. “Might as well try. Worst they can do is not let me in the room.”
I went back to the closet, dug out one of his button-downs, and tossed it his way. “Well, then you’re coming with me.”
Once he was ready, Dad escorted us to the conference room.
The two FBI agents sat at the opposite side of the table.
They rose together, and I knew they’d probably done this a lot. Except maybe not with werewolves.
“Tessa, these are Special Agents Ramirez and Morgan.”
Ramirez had to be the short Hispanic agent. His navy blue suit hung a little baggy on him, but I could tell he had a reasonably fit body underneath. Not Were-fit, but fit enough. Morgan was a petite blonde. She seemed overly friendly with her megawatt smile, but something told me she wasn’t all warm and bubbly.
At least I already knew who was the good cop and who was the bad one?
“I’m sorry, but we only want to question Teresa,” Special Agent Morgan said.
Yup. Not warm or bubbly.
I thought about arguing, but that seemed like a bad idea. Definitely not the first impression I wanted to make.
I’ll be right outside, listening in, Dastien said as he brushed a kiss on my cheek. You need me, I’ll be back. No matter what they want.
Thanks.
Dad nodded. “We’ll be right outside. If you need me for any reason, I can come in as counsel.”
“As we told
you earlier, your daughter isn’t in any trouble.” Agent Morgan placed her folded hands on the table. “There’s no reason to worry.”
I tried to take that to heart as I settled down into one of the tall-backed leather chairs. I wheeled myself closer to the table, and sat up straight. My side throbbed at the movement, but Dastien had been right. The wounds were already scabbed over. By tonight, they’d be red marks at most.
“We’ve talked to some of your fellow pack members.” Ramirez said “pack members” like it was a question. “But we wanted to speak with someone who wasn’t born into this world.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure how much they knew, and unless they asked, I figured silence was my best option.
“So what do you think of the werewolves?” Agent Morgan asked.
That was an incredible vague and open-ended question. “They’re fine. Some I really like. Some I don’t. Just like anywhere else.”
“And the witches?”
Where were they going with this? “The same. There are some here that I really like. Others, not so much.”
