Matt Urban was the least likely person Bryce knew to let himself be manipulated. The fact he allowed it this time told Bryce all he needed to know about Matt’s need to be somewhere alone with his mate, away from all the crap.
He watched them ride off up the trail, seeing the growing relaxation in both of them as they rode side by side, knees almost touching. Matt turned to say something to Jesse, his face soft, and Bryce’s heart ached. He was glad he could give Matt this. He really was.
Now, if he could just get Colby and Tristan sorted out, along with the bullshit politicians and those phantom scientists Matt was so worried about, he’d really be on a roll.
Chapter Three
TOM
Tom headed for Matt Urban’s ranch after checking in at the hotel. He’d have time to scout the town later. For now, he wanted to go straight to the heart of the issue and find out who they were dealing with.
One possibility had occurred to him on the flight, something he didn’t even want to say aloud. Urban might be luring the Council’s executive leadership into the wilderness to take them out in one blow. It stunk that he’d refused to come to Washington for the meeting.
Tom hated this part of his job, looking for betrayal in a man he hadn’t even met, but the cost of being wrong was too high to take chances.
He pulled up outside the house nearly thirty minutes before the appointment Maria had made for him. His practice of turning up early made him wildly unpopular with most people,but catching them off-balance meant he generally found out more than they intended.
His habit of being early had bled into every corner of his life—one of the many things about him that exasperated Zack. Not that Zack had ever said anything until near the end, when his voice had throbbed with resentment. “Jesus, Tom. You’re like a walking calendar notification.”
Tom had been careful after that never to be early for anything involving Zack, but it had been too late. Zack hadn’t loved him anymore.
His heart ached, the way it always did when he thought of Zack. But he stuffed the hurt back where it lived, behind the lock he kept for things he couldn’t fix.
A tall, young guy with a mop of dark hair yanked the front door open before Tom had even finished knocking. His hazel eyes were wide with excitement.
“Hi!” he blurted. “You must be Councilor Steadman’s aide. I’m Tristan, and I argued for her integration policy in high school, we even won the regionals, and I can’t believe she’s actually coming here. When is she coming, by the way? Oh, you’d better come in. How was your flight?”
Tom blinked. Of all the receptions he’d prepared for, unrehearsed, unfiltered enthusiasm hadn’t been one of them.
He stepped inside, nodding politely. “Good, thanks,” he said when Tristan finally paused for breath. “I’m Tom Barrington. And yes, I’m Councilor Steadman’s aide. But if I weren’t, you just handed me a perfect cover ID to go poking around.”
Tristan’s face crumpled with horror. “Oh my God,” he said. “I didn’t think of that.”
Tom couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “No harm done,” he said gently. “I’m just mentioning itfor the future. You’re going to get a lot of strangers through here soon.”
“I know, and I still can’t believe the National Council is interested inus. Well, Jesse really, but it’s our pack. Which reminds me, Matt’s out with Jesse, but Bryce is expecting you. He said that Colby and I could show you around the place later if you want.” Tristan shot a suddenly shy glance at Tom. “He’s my mate,” he said, pride in his voice and pink touching his cheeks. “Colby, I mean, not Bryce. Obviously.”
“I look forward to meeting him,” Tom said, and he wasn’t just being polite. He’d love to know what kind of person could cope with Tristan’s flood of words on a regular basis.
Tristan smiled, wide and delighted. Tom followed him down a hallway, with walls painted white to offset the dark wood of the flooring and doors, and into a huge kitchen. Sunlight shone through large windows, and the scent of baking made his mouth water.
“Have a seat,” Tristan said. “I’ll go find Bryce. He knows you’re coming, but he isn’t expecting you yet.”
“I’m early,” Tom said, and settled in a chair as the back door banged behind Tristan.
Well, that had been interesting. Tristan was completely artless—no one could pull that off unless they were sincere. Which left Tom wondering if Tristan had been sent to meet him in order to get Tom to lower his guard, or if the pack really was exactly what it seemed.
The choice to leave him in the kitchen might be a calculated one, because it was probably the room in the house that would tell him the least about who lived here, or it might have just been where Tristan naturally gravitated to. It certainly felt warm and welcoming.
He became aware of a presence behind him and turned in his chair. A muscular guy with dark blond hair stood there, his shoulders hunched uncertainly.
“Can I get you a coffee?” he asked Tom.
“Thanks,” Tom said. “I’m Tom Barrington, here for Councilor Steadman.”
“Colby,” the guy said, keeping his distance as he crossed to the coffee machine.
As he busied himself with the coffee setup, measuring, scooping, hitting the buttons a little harder than necessary, he didn’t look at Tom again. He seemed uncomfortable rather than rude, as if he knew he was being watched and didn’t much like it.
