“Your opposing viewpoints mean nothing in the face of addicts looking for their next high. And for the record? I’m still not giving up the case. You don’t like it, talk to my director.”
Quetzalcoatl didn’t seem pleased with Patrick’s attitude or declaration, but Patrick didn’t care. He had enough problems on his plate as it was; he refused to give up the case he’d been assigned just because a god said so. Lucien wanted to kill Tremaine, who was doing business with a god that had no qualms about killing werecreatures for profit and love.
One debt at a time, he told himself.
Patrick made to walk out the observation room when Hermes grabbed him by the arm, fingers pressing down hard enough to bruise. Those gold-brown eyes slid his way, head tipped in his direction.
“Tezcatlipoca and his Omacatl Cartel do business with your father. Ask yourself why the Dominion Sect would want a goddess of death at their disposal, hm?” Hermes said.
Patrick wrenched his arm out of Hermes’ grip, getting free only because the immortal allowed it. “Fuckyou.”
If the two immortals wanted to play at being law enforcement, then he’d let them. Patrick would deal with the real DEA agents when they came around. Right now? He was done with their shit for tonight.
I need a fucking drink, Patrick thought as he yanked open the door and left the observation room.
He nearly ran face-first into Casale.
“You don’t look happy,” Casale said.
“The case is mine, which means it’s still yours,” Patrick bit out. “I’m leaving and taking Wade with me.”
“You never told me what he was. If he’s a danger, he shouldn’t leave the premises.”
Patrick waved aside his worry as the others filed out of the observation room. “It’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with his kind before.”
“What is he, Collins?”
“Sorry, that’s classified.”
“You know I hate that excuse.”
“It’s the truth. Can’t change anything about that.”
“I’m a werecreature,” Wade said when Patrick opened the door to Interview Room 1.
“Keep telling yourself that. You’re coming with me.”
Wade’s brown eyes looked past Patrick at where Jono stood behind him, the taller man’s body heat impossible to miss.
“It’s fine, mate,” Jono said.
Wade seemed reluctant to go with them but even more reluctant to stay. One hand lifted to his throat, touching the spot where the warded collar had been, keeping his true self locked away. He was about Patrick’s height, but way too thin, which made him look younger than his eighteen years of age. They needed to get some food in him.
“I can keep you safe,” Patrick told him, trying not to squint. “Iwillkeep you safe.”
If Ethan, the Dominion Sect, and fucking gods aligned with the hells wanted a fledgling dragon, they’d have to go through Patrick first.
“Let’s go,” Jono said.
Quetzalcoatl and Hermes didn’t try to stop them, but Patrick knew he hadn’t seen the last of the gods. Casale looked like he wanted to argue, but the SOA had the case, and no one in the PCB was a mage. Patrick was the best person to keep Wade contained and safe.
He couldn’t do anything about the teenager’s thieving ways though. Hoarding was ingrained down to a dragon’s soul after all.
“Whoever’s badge you have in your pocket, I’d like it back now,” Patrick said once Wade had stepped out of Interview Room 1.
Wade blinked, giving him a wide-eyed, innocent look Patrick didn’t believe for a second. “What badge?”
Patrick held out his hand. “I’m too tired to play games. Badge. Now. And anything else you have in your pockets.”
