Misty let out her breath. “All right. Have him come by the store after lunch, and we can talk in my office. I’m sure Xav will let us have a private conversation.”
“He’s here now. Wants to talk right away. He’s busy.”
“Here?” Misty scanned the small restaurant. Xav glanced their way but looked unworried, still on his phone. “Where? Why doesn’t he come and have lunch with us?”
“He’s in the alley. He only has a few minutes.”
Misty stepped in front of Paul as he started for the restaurant’s rear door. “Oh, right. Because that doesn’t sound suspicious at all. Who is this guy? If he wants to talk to me so much, he can come to the store. It’s only three doors down.”
Paul looked suddenly afraid, which rang even more alarms. “Misty, please.”
“No,” Misty said firmly. “I’m not stupid enough to meet some guy I don’t know in a back alley, even in broad daylight. If he’s legit, he’ll come to my office.”
Paul opened his mouth to argue more, but Misty broke away from him. “Let’s go finish lunch. We’ll talk about him later.”
To her relief, Paul followed her instead of charging out after this person. Paul pulled out his phone and was texting, probably canceling the back-alley appointment.
Xav gave the two of them a sharp look when they returned to the table, but he didn’t ask. Paul finished his meal without speaking, and Misty picked at hers, wishing she could enjoy it.
Back at the store, Paul followed Misty into her office. “He’s legit, Misty,” he said. He looked angry now instead of afraid. “He’s on his way.”
“Fine, then.” Misty sat at her desk, turned to her computer, and pulled up her never-ending e-mail.
Paul stepped out and returned in a few minutes with a man who was on the short side, but broad-shouldered and buff, without an ounce of fat on him. In his thirties, Misty guessed as she looked up from her terminal. He had very short black hair and tatts that proclaimed he’d been in prison at least once.
“Hi,” the man said, stopping on the other side of her desk. His voice was gruff, a little bit like Graham’s, but he gave her a little smile and sounded apologetic. “I’m Ben. Sorry about that. Paul didn’t think you’d want me coming here or even talking to you in the restaurant. I’m so obviously an ex-con.”
Which meant Paul wasn’t supposed to be talking to him. A friend of his parole officer? Really?
“What can I do for you, Ben?” Misty asked.
“It’s not what you can do for me.” Ben leaned on his hands on the desk, which made every muscle press against his sun-worn skin. “It’s what you can do for your boyfriend, Graham McNeil.”
“What?” Misty came alert, not pretending to give Ben anything other than her full attention. The man looked fairly harmless—well, as harmless as a tough man with prison tatts could look—but his brown eyes held only friendliness. He certainly wasn’t a Fae, at least, Misty didn’t think so. Did they all look like the hiker?
Paul had remained by the door, his back to it. He looked uneasy but not surprised that Ben was asking about Graham.
“McNeil is in a lot of trouble,” Ben said. “You know that. He’s dying. And you can save him, if you want to. Do you want to save him, Misty?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The last Shifter leader meeting Graham had attended had been in Dallas, and he’d had to fly. Graham hated flying. An airplane was a machine, and machines could break. Vehicles on the ground were dangerous enough, but what if one broke twenty-thousand feet in the air? Humans were crazy.
This time, Graham wouldn’t have to fly, to his relief. The meeting was in Laughlin.
Good choice, Graham thought as he headed out of town with Eric—on Dougal’s Harley because his own still needed repairs.
A lot of bikers went to Laughlin, a town about an hour or so south of Vegas on the Nevada-Arizona border, the motorcycle riders mixing in with retirees who came for cheap food, cheap rooms, and cheap slots. A score of Shifters could blend in with the human bikers easily, and the human government never had to know Shifters had gathered there. Shifters weren’t allowed to cross state lines without special permission, so the fewer humans who knew Shifters were traveling today, the better.
Only Shifter leaders and a backup were allowed to attend the meetings. No others. Backup tended to be trackers—those who ran errands for or guarded the leader. Graham wanted to argue that both he and Eric could bring one backup, because they were joint leaders, but no. Eric was considered the official Shiftertown leader, with Graham as his muscle. Stupid idea, because if Graham decided to, he could take out Eric quietly on this road trip and then make a play to rule Shiftertown himself.
Except, Graham wasn’t sure how much he wanted to rule it anymore. Cassidy and Jace—Eric’s second and third in command—would argue, probably with violence. Cassidy was a sweet-looking woman but one hell of a fighter. Jace had a mate of his own now, and neither were slouches in the fighting area.
The rest of Eric’s Shifters would also instantly rebel against being led by Graham if he tried to take over. And Graham had Dougal and two little cubs to worry about. If he got himself killed trying to take over Shiftertown those three would suffer, and so would any other Lupines who’d backed him.
Responsibility. Graham was plagued with it.
The fact that Eric rode confidently along, letting Graham stick close to his back, was meant to show how much Eric had grown to trust Graham in the last year. Eric wasn’t an idiot—he knew he was safe with Graham now, and he was right.