Monica tensed in her seat across the table. “Those are mine.”
“Oops. Must have fallen out of your purse.”
Patrick snorted at the faux-innocent tone of Wade’s voice. “Give them back to her.”
Wade tossed Monica’s keys across the table to her before sitting down in one of the two empty seats situated across from the Chicago god pack alphas. He held a menu up in front of his face, more interested in the food on offer than everyone seated around the table. Patrick sat beside him, trying not to reveal how much having his back to the room at large made him tense and uncomfortable. He looked away from Wade to meet the gazes of Monica’s alphas.
“Your dire said my manners suck. I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission to run a case in this city on the SOA’s orders,” Patrick said, keeping his voice even.
“You’ve crossed eight different pack territories in a single day, breached my god pack’s borders without permission, and never once reached out to us to apologize. Your mannersdosuck,” the woman said.
Patrick shrugged. “You want an introduction? Special Agent Patrick Collins, at your service. I’m one of the alphas of the only New York City god pack that matters and Wade’s babysitter.”
“Hey!” Wade protested, not looking away from the menu. “I can take care of myself. Aw man, they don’t have hot dogs.”
“Get a hamburger.”
“I’m gettingthree.”
“Not a good babysitter if your boy is that hungry,” the man directly across from Patrick said.
“Wade is always hungry. He’ll eat anything at any hour. Pizza, hamburgers, demons—”
“Gross. Not getting seconds on those,” Wade muttered. “Can I get fried pickles?”
Patrick sighed and raised a hand, catching a waitress’ attention. He waved her over and pointed at Wade. “I need to feed him.”
The woman—a witch, judging by her aura and the spark of recognition that ran through Patrick’s magic—arched an eyebrow before eyeing Wade. “What would you like?”
Wade rattled off a list of food that could have fed three grown men. Patrick resigned himself to a triple-digit charge, but if it kept Wade happy, it would be worth it.
“If you want to talk, I want to know who I’m dealing with,” Patrick said once the waitress left to go put in the order.
“You’re in no position to demand things of us,” the woman said.
Patrick bit back a scowl and tried not to say the first thing that came to his mind. Sage would be proud he wasn’t starting off with insults if she were here. “Like I said. I’m here because I work for the SOA. I’m not here looking to take your territory. Maybe I should’ve called, but it’s not like any of my pack had your number.”
“Your agency and the Chicago police know where we live.”
“Yeah, they don’t need to know about this. I gave you my name. I’d like yours in return.”
She smiled thinly at him, the thick braid draped over one shoulder swaying as she leaned back in her seat. “Naomi White Hawk.”
“Alejandro Perez,” her partner said.
Patrick didn’t see any wedding bands, so he figured they weren’t married how Estelle and Youssef were. He couldn’t rely on smell like Jono could for a situation like this, but Patrick was good at reading body language. None of the werecreatures seated at the table or in the surrounding bar area seemed fearful of their alphas. It was a stark difference from whenever he’d seen Estelle and Youssef interacting with their werecreature community.
“It’s just me and Wade here. Our pack isn’t looking to leave New York City anytime soon,” Patrick said.
“That’s not what we’ve heard,” Naomi said.
“Any rumors you’ve heard about us leaving are false. Those are lies being spread by Estelle and Youssef.”
“We’ve also heard you’re stealing territory,” Alejandro said before taking a sip of his beer.
“It’s not stealing if the packs in question offer it to us and ask for our protection.”
Naomi and Alejandro shared a brief look that Patrick couldn’t read. He felt a little out of his comfort zone, unable to follow cues Jono or Sage would have no problem picking up on.
