“Good point. Any suggestions on your part, or should I just keep throwing names out there?”
“Trevor could do it,” she said, thinking of the DCO’s resident coyote shifter. “He works counterespionage, so we know he’s good undercover. He could definitely pull off a guy who doesn’t like to play by the rules.”
Landon grinned. “He was going to be my third choice.”
Ivy snorted. “Sure he was.”
Landon pulled out his phone. “I’ll call John and bring him up to speed, see how fast he can make this happen.”
Ivy turned to look out the side window at the big, scary building and caught sight of a woman with wild curly hair and pale skin gazing down at her through the window and the bars covering it with big, brown eyes that didn’t blink. As Ivy watched, a man’s hand reached out and rested on the woman’s shoulder, tugging her away from the window. That’s when Ivy realized the window was in the isolation ward.
Nope, that wasn’t creepy at all.
Chapter 6
Dreya felt like a complete doofus sitting in the DCO cafeteria wearing the black military-style uniform and combat boots. When Danica and Clayne had taken her and Braden to pick up training equipment before breakfast, she’d thought it would be some cool spy gear that would make her a better thief, like glasses that would give her X-ray vision or a grappling hook and rappelling line hidden in an ink pen. It hadn’t been anything so sweet. Instead, it had been heavy, uncomfortable, butt-ugly clothing. She hated the uniform on sight.
But she’d felt a whole hell of a lot better about it when she realized they’d given Braden the same thing to wear. Unlike her, though, he didn’t put up nearly as much fuss about the uniform. Probably because he made the damn thing look so good.
As she ate her French toast, she looked around the room at the insane mix of people. Some wore suits while others were rocking the business casual look, but most of them wore the same black uniform she and Braden did.
Beside her, Braden was all but inhaling his scrambled eggs and bacon as he talked to Danica about cop stuff. Dreya was too busy trying to identify all the strange scents her nose was picking up to pay attention to what they were saying. Across from her, she caught Clayne watching her with a slight smile on his face. He tapped his nose in a covert gesture before pointing at a tall man across the room with a wild mane of hair, then at a big blond guy a few tables away, before finally gesturing at a wiry guy standing in the omelet line waiting for his order.
It took her a moment to figure out what Clayne had been trying to tell her, but then she realized the strange scents she’d been picking up were coming from the three men he’d pointed out. They were like Clayne—and like her. The DCO really did have other freaks working here.
She looked around again and noticed that no one seemed bothered by it. Freaks with claws and fangs eating breakfast with the normal people. Who would have thought it?
“You look beat, Dreya,” Danica said, interrupting her thoughts. “Did the shooting at the gun ranges keep you awake?”
Dreya gave Braden a sidelong glance, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t look up from his bacon and eggs.
“No, it didn’t keep me awake,” she said. “I guess I was just geeked up about what I’d be doing today.”
She was only half lying. She was so tired because she spent most of the night staring at the ceiling debating whether to skip out on the whole DCO thing or not. She couldn’t say why she’d finally decided to leave. Maybe it was simply because her life was complicated enough already, and she didn’t want it to get any worse.
Regardless, a little before five, she’d thrown her weekender over her shoulder and climbed out the window only to find Braden leaning against a tree, waiting for her. She had no idea how the heck he’d known she’d bolt. It was almost like he could read her mind.
“I guess this answers my question about whether you’re going to be here in the morning,” he said drily.
She could have run, but why bother when he’d catch her at some point? So instead, she sighed and walked over to him.
“It’s morning, and I’m still here,” she pointed out.
“Pure technicality,” he said. “If I hadn’t been waiting here, you’d already be long gone.”
“How’d you know I’d try to run?”
He shrugged. “I could see it in your eyes last night. It was that squirrelly look people get when they’re scared and overwhelmed. The look they get when they think running is a better answer than staying around and dealing with a tough situation.”
She frowned. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“That’s exactly what I think you’re doing. You don’t even have a clue where you’re running to or why. Your instinct says to bail, so you’re bailing.”
The blunt words sounded like something Rory would have said. “Do you think I should stay?”
“I think you need to figure that out for yourself,” Braden had told her. “But you can’t keep running. You either need to go back into that dorm room and make the most of the DCO’s offer, or you let me take you to the MPD—and jail. There isn’t a third option.”
Neither of them had said anything for a long time after that. Finally realizing Braden was right, she’d gone upstairs to their dorm room. She expected Braden to say something pithy about her making the right decision, but he didn’t utter a word, other than to tell her to have a good night before closing his bedroom door. Then this morning, he’d acted like nothing had ever happened. She didn’t get him.
