Tom was now stroking the gelding’s neck, while he pushed his nose inquiringly against Tom’s chest. “No scary drains here to ruin your day,” he murmured softly, and Bryce grinned as he turned away. He probably hadn’t been supposed to hear that, but it reinforced everything he’d thought about Tom’s basic kindness.
Didn’t stop him being a threat, though, and Bryce needed to remember that.
TOM
The gelding was warm and curious, and he didn’t seem to mind that half Tom’s attention was on Bryce even as he stroked his neck. Half Tom’s attention had been on Bryce ever since he’d pulled up outside the house.
It had been difficult not to smile just at the sight of him, out on the front porch, holding a coffee and leaning a hip against the railing. The soft gray light hadn’t yet found color, but it had caught the edge of him—shadowing his jaw, glinting faintly off the curve of his belt buckle. Jeans low on his hips, boots planted, he’d looked like something out of a black-and-white photograph, all stillness and intent.
But now that image, one that Tom knew he’d be thinking about for a while to come, was replaced by the living, breathing man beside him.
They led the horses outside, where Bryce checked the cinches and they mounted. The instant he settled in the saddle, it came flooding back to Tom. God, he’d missed this. He hadn’t had time to think of riding when he first got to DC, even if he’d been able to afford Washington prices in those days. And thenhe… well, he kind of forgot about it in his drive to be the best aide there’d ever been. To define himself by what he was, not what he hadn’t been allowed to be. He also wasn’t sure Zack would have appreciated his coming back to their apartment smelling of horse. For a wolf, he’d been surprisingly fastidious.
“Southern edge first?” Bryce checked.
“Makes sense. That’s where I’d breach,” Tom said, patting his jacket pocket to check he had his phone, containing the list of weak spots he’d made last night when sitting in his hotel room and trying to forget just how infectious Bryce’s smile was.
The quiet between them as they rode toward the southern perimeter was companionable, something that Tom rarely experienced. Most silences he encountered were either strategic or strained. But this felt comfortable, as if it didn’t matter whether or not it was broken.
Once they reached the place Tom had wanted to examine more closely, he drew the gelding to a halt and looked hard at the ridgeline, the patchy tree line cover, and the awkward visibility. It was even worse from up here than it had been from wolf eye-level yesterday.
“You said you concentrate on this area with your patrols,” he said, as he took some photos. Nothing substituted for exploring the place himself, for getting thefeelof it, but the photos would be a handy memory jog for later as he worked through what would be needed to ensure the councilors’ safety.
It might not be his job anymore, strictly speaking, but he still felt responsible.
“For obvious reasons,” Bryce said. “Jesse’s too big a target to leave this area wide open.”
Something in his voice warned Tom that he wasn’t simply stating the blindingly obvious. He was leading up to something.
Tom kept his voice light. “Matt already warned me off talking to Jesse, if that’s where this is going.”
Bryce didn’t look over. “It’s not a warning,” he said. “Just a reminder. He’s got enough on his plate without having to field curiosity even before the councilors arrive.”
“I understand,” Tom said quietly. And he did. He was frustrated that it seemed he wouldn’t have much of a chance to evaluate Jesse, both for his own interest and for passing on to Steadman, but he was glad to see how solid and unswerving Jesse’s protection was. He’d need it, once the world knew about him, when everyone would want a piece of him.
Bryce was right that part of his interest in Jesse was pure nosiness about how Argents were different from other shifters. But then he’d sat with him at the dinner table, and there’d been nothing to suggest he was anything other than a perfectly normal, slightly rough-edged guy. Though Tom guessed that, to someone used to DC smoothness, most people would feel a little rough-edged.
And all the more welcome for it, he thought, urging his horse on again beside Bryce.
“I appreciate Matt trusting me enough to let me come back, given his concerns about Jesse,” he said as he ducked to avoid a branch.
“Matt knows his own mind,” Bryce said.
Something in his tone pinged Tom’s radar, something old and heavy and fond, all tangled up together.
“You’ve known one another a long time, I gather.”
“We have.” Bryce’s words were abrupt. That was the first time he’d heard Bryce so terse, and when he glanced over, his jaw was tight. “And no, neither of us is going to answer any questions about Cheyenne. It happened. That’s all you need to know.”
Some years ago in Cheyenne, there’d been a vicious fight between packs over territory. Wolves on both sides had died. Afterward, Matt had been shunned by his pack, and Bryce hadleft with him. When he’d read the briefing notes about the incident, Tom had wondered if Matt’s loyalty or competence had been in doubt, but now he’d met the man, he didn’t believe either for an instant. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but he had norightto know, either.
“I’m only interested in what affects the councilors’ visit,” he said, and as they rode on, hooves quiet on soft dirt, he saw the tension in Bryce’s shoulders slowly ease.
They drew to a halt on the ridge in the first real sun of the day. Tom made notes on his phone while his gelding, in line with Bryce’s predictions, comfortably rested a leg as he stood, waiting patiently for Tom to ask him to do something.
Bryce’s horse was a somewhat fretful buckskin, and she and Bryce had already had a couple of differences of opinion about whether it was time to go home yet. Bryce was comfortable in the saddle, like he’d grown up there, and Tom had to admit, he liked seeing Bryce’s competence bleed over into new areas. It had always attracted him even more than looks, someone beinggoodat something. Like Zack, and the way he’d always known the right type of pressure to apply in order to line up the votes he needed.
For some reason, that suddenly sat wrong with Tom. It was what Steadman wanted him to do, find out the points to press, the areas to flatter, and—he didn’t want to. Not here. This place, this pack, felt peaceful and warm. Bizarrely, they felt welcoming despite the mistrust that had come his way.
