Thatch was so getting my tongue in his mouth as soon as we were in the car. Stolen kisses filled the past few days, as well as an ease that had taken us by surprise. We hadn’t truly got hot and heavy yet, beyond that first time by the dam and the fantastic hand action. With late nights and us stepping up the investigation based on the intel Doc Evil gave us, it meant little time for much else. But I’d make it a point to get him hot and heavy as soon as possible.
Without another word, Brent entered the room, the two of us following close behind. I sat, Thatch taking the seat next to me, while Brent took the chair opposite.
Despite Brent being the one who asked to see Thatch regarding Crandore Laboratories, Thatch said, “What have you got on Crandore Laboratories that wasn’t on file or couldn’t have been sent over secure transfer?”
And my hard-on for the man by my side reached new levels of uncomfortable. Calling Brent out on his BS was heady as hell.
Discomfort had Brent’s brows furrowing, followed by his left eye twitching, meaning he was pissed off. That same tell had been directed my way too many times to count in the three years I’d managed to stay in his team. I still marvelled how I’d lasted so long. Breaking the rules, and all but telling Brent where to go on a semi-regular basis had been my norm. The reasons behind him keeping me on confused me something rotten. Yeah, I was a good agent and got the job done, but he could have easily palmed me off to a different area. Yet he hadn’t.
I squashed those thoughts, needing to stay focussed on whatever Brent was about to say. I just wondered if he’d be ballsy enough to be an arsehole to Thatch or not.
“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you…” Apparently his balls had shrivelled and disappeared. I swallowed my snort as Brent continued. “…but I thought it was important to touch base on your investigation.”
I stilled at that, waiting to see how Thatch would respond.
“And what investigation is that?”
Considering the confidentiality surrounding Thatch’s team, I had to wonder what Brent was hoping to achieve by bringing Thatch here and attempting to question him. And more to the point, why had Thatch agreed to come along in the first place?
My eyes widened when Brent’s cheeks flushed. It didn’t take long for him to steady himself, but his discomfort piqued my interest.
“Crandore Laboratories and Jonas Cartwright—”
“What about Jonas Cartwright?” Thatch’s voice didn’t lilt, didn’t change in pitch, giving nothing away. We both knew no one outside of our team and the director—including her top security team who’d taken Cartwright from our hands—should be aware we’d manage to capture him in the first place.
Brent blanched. His eyes darted away before returning to Thatch. “Have you been able to secure his location yet?”
Remaining mute, Thatch stared at him hard.
My gaze flicked between the two of them, the silence deafening.
“I mean—” Brent cleared his throat. “—we’ve just pulled in a shipment of LIXER, and with you investigating—”
Without inflection, Thatch asked, “Who said we were investigating Jonas Cartwright or LIXER?”
The eye twitch worked its way to the rest of Brent’s face. “It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re investigating them, since that’s where you were almost killed and turned into a dirty mutt.”
Wide-eyed, I planted my feet firmly to the ground. The urge to pounce on him thrummed through me. Brent was human, so any slight nick of my claws could kill the arsehole. While struggling to dispel the anger working its way through me, I would never allow this tosser to be the reason why I destroyed my career, or quite possibly my life.
From the corner of my eye, the slightest shift in heat coming from Thatch caught my attention. Boy, was he pissed. He stood, and I followed suit, careful to stay close in case I needed to intervene. I’d had three years of dealing with Brent’s slurs, though they tended to refer to the scum of my father and the embarrassment of my family name. It seemed his contempt went a whole lot deeper than the Blackheath name and stretched as wide as all shifters. Whether that was just wolves or the species at large, who knew.
I wished I could say I didn’t care, but as a SICB division manager, his power and hatred were not a combination that put me at ease.
“I think perhaps we’ve finished here,” Thatch said, his rage obvious.
Scrambling from his chair, Brent flushed. “I’m not sure—”
With a sharp turn away from the door and back to Brent, Thatch peered down at him. The air rippled around him, all contained anger and contempt. Shock registered on Brent and he took a step back before he seemed to realise what he’d done and stood straighter. “Let me be clear, Brent, there is nothing you need to know about anything my team or I do. And if I find you sniffing around, I’ll pull a wall of hurt down on you so fast you won’t know your arsehole from your elbow.” He waited a beat, and from the flicker of Brent’s gaze from me to Thatch, I assumed he was allowing the threat to sink in. Thatch then turned.
I angled out the way so he could reach the door first, a flurry of pride for Thatch laying it out there balancing for a hold on my anger at Brent for being a prejudiced prick.
Hand to the door, Thatch angled his head over his shoulder. “Don’t let me hear you refer to shifters as mutts again. Your time at the SICB will be an awfully difficult place to be if Durrant gets a whiff of it.” He grasped the handle, opened the door, and we both headed out.
Surprising even myself that I’d kept my mouth shut, I kept walking in silence towards the office exit, throwing a concerned Lucas a wink and a
