I preferred hyenas.
“Is Sinclair feeling any better?” I wanted to go check on Sinclair, but I wasn’t sure the man wanted to see me.
Shade’s eyes shot to the open door. I got a chill down my spine when the man gestured for me to shut the door. My stomach knotted as I got up and hurried over to shut the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I turned around.
“He’s pretty sick, Stone,” Shade replied. “I’ve restricted all access to him except for us.”
I narrowed my eyes, the cold feeling going down my back turning to ice. “You’ve restricted access to him for food poisoning?”
“I’m pretty sure you can drop the food part of that question.”
My throat thickened. “He was poisoned?”
“I don’t know that for certain, but it’s the angle I’m going with. After our little conversation earlier, I did a little research on hyena physiology. Sinclair was worried that something the cook had prepared might have been specific for panther shifters, which was why he was getting sick.”
“And what did you find?”
“There’s nothing. Anything a panther shifter can eat, a hyena can eat. There is nothing in anything he ate—which we also ate—that explains why he’s sick.”
“Then why do you think he’s been poisoned?” Just saying those words made my stomach clench.
“Because if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”
I stared at the man. “Did you just quote Spock?”
“No, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”
“You a Sherlock Holmes fan?”
Shade shrugged. “It never hurts to learn how to be a good detective.”
“Right.”
We could use one right about now.
I stood up and paced around the room, my mind going over everything Shade had told me. The poisoning thing sent my pulse racing, my anger reaching new heights. Sinclair was the perfect man to have at your back. He was loyal, trustworthy, smart, and god, so damn beautiful.
Who would want to hurt him?
“I’ve asked myself that same question,” Shade said.
“What?” I glanced at the man.
“I’ve asked myself the same thing,” Shade replied. “It just doesn’t make sense that someone would want to hurt him, so it has to be someone with a grudge.”
Crap. I had asked that out loud?
“Has anyone talked to Sinclair and asked him?” Samson asked. “It seems to me that if anyone knew who was out to hurt him, it would be him.”
I glanced toward Shade again.
My heart sank when the guy shook his head.
“He hasn’t been up to questions.”
I thrust my hand through my hair. It was better than screaming out my frustration. “I need to see him.”
