His little heart hammered a mile a minute as he waited to hear the door being bashed or kicked open, but it never came. No strange smells filled the room. No footsteps came stomping down the hall. Nothing reached his ears but birdsong from outside. They’d have flown for cover the way he had if danger was near.
Safe.
Slowly, inch by inch, he emerged, feeling broody and downright foolish for having panicked like that.
Shifting back, he stormed naked and grumpily back up the hall, redressed, and resumed dusting. They never had to know that he’d been in here jumping at nothing and letting his thoughts run wild. If nothing else, it was the only good part about being alone this morning.
Arlo
He didn’t give a shit if his tires squealed when he parked or if he slammed the door a little too hard; he was getting to his meerkat. That was the only thing he gave a shit about. He sure as fuck didn’t think twice about ripping the door half off its hinges as he yanked open the one marked office and stomped inside to see Taggart standing as far across the room as he could get from the mammoth man punching numbers into the computer, snarling at the thing beneath his breath.
He smelled like a cat, a big cat, vicious, an apex predator. Another sniff. Shit. He’d encountered only a handful of Bengal tigers in his years as an enforcer, and every one of them hadbeen fierce, vicious bastards. Stubborn, difficult to deal with, and unpredictable as hell. This one smelled like he’d been here awhile. Arlo scented the trees of Cookietown’s surrounding forest clinging to him, along with coffee and gravel dust, like the kind that had filled the air when he’d roared up. Nothing about him screamed outsider, but he’d scared Arlo’s boy, and that was unacceptable.
“You wanna explain why you stopped him from removing things from his unit,” Arlo growled as he marched up to the counter, slapping his hands down on the slick wooden surface while the tiger just eyed him, one eyebrow arched, clearly unimpressed by his show of temper.
“He can take whatever he wants from that unit once I determine the unit actually belongs to him. So, if you’ll just give me a moment to make this machine do as it should, we’ll get it sorted out.”
He snarled at the machine as he hit more buttons, several of them Arlo could make out from his vantage point.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Seven weeks. And in none of those weeks has this machine chosen to cooperate with me!”
“Try slowing down and not fucking up what you’re typing in and we’ll be able to get what he needs and get out of here before the next Founders Day parade!”
Glaring up at him, the tiger wrinkled his nose, snatched a pencil out of a cup beside the phone, and entered the information that way, rather than with his fingers.
Arlo could see the issue. Large hands, small keys, yeah, he was struggling and not pleased about it. Too fuckin’ bad. Arlo was pretty damned pissed himself right now as he cut a look at his boy, pleased to see that Taggart was physically unharmed, though still wide-eyed with waves of worry rolling off him.
They would deal with all of that and him leaving the house alone once he got his boy home with whatever had led to him making such a foolhardy decision in the first place.
“What is your name and your unit number?” the guy asked, shooting a look past Arlo to glare at Taggart, who stammered out his response.
Arlo drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited for the tiger to enter the information.
“And the code?”
“The code is XY49SP2,” Taggart replied, keeping his gaze down.
The tiger nodded, some of the scowl smoothing from his features. “Okay, you check out. The amount of electronics in your vehicle raised suspicion. We’ve had a few attempts at break-ins recently, which is why my brother and I were brought in as additional security. I’m sorry for holding you up this morning, but there will be no thefts here on my watch.”
Only when Arlo could feel Taggart’s worry begin to lesson, did he stop wanting to rip the tiger’s heart out.
“There are better ways to do your job than scaring the customers.”
“Scaring whoever is on this lot is exactly what I’m hired for,” the tiger replied, not looking the least bit contrite.
If Arlo hadn’t had his boy to deal with and another at home—he’d left in too much of a hurry to explain why he was rushing—he’d have taken the time to exchange more than just words with the smug-looking bastard. The energy rolling off him screamed he was just daring Arlo to try something. Well, two could play that game when Arlo had the time.
“What’s your name and your employee number?” Arlo growled, determined to dig into the Bengal and the brother who’d come to town with him, and uncover as much as he could about them.
If they were a threat to Cookietown or any of its inhabitants, then he was damn sure gonna eliminate the threat before they could harm anyone. While there had been nothing in the information they’d uncovered regarding tigers on the council or in any way associated with its rogue members, he wasn’t taking any chances. Not when there was so much they didn’t know yet.
Bengals were known for being vicious, solitary cats who stalked their prey through the night and struck when they were most vulnerable. Their human counterparts weren’t much better, in his experience, but the one thing that had always kept them from becoming dangerous tools was their refusal to join with other factions. He just hoped that the pair who’d come here kept to the same tradition.
And while he understood Taggart’s need to replace his equipment and get back to his normal working routine and find that information, what he’d done this morning was absolutely inexcusable. They had enough threats to deal with at the moment, and Taggart should have considered that.
“Morrison James, employee number 27404. You want my boss's number? Hell, I’ll call him for you if you’d like, and he’ll tell you the same thing I’m telling you. My job is to keep these units from being robbed, and I do not fail at my job.”
