Angus frowned, glaring at the drinks. “Is that whipped cream?”
“Yep.” Wolfe took a chair at the head of the table, his latte already half gone. “With sprinkles on top.”
West eyed the soldier and then took a coffee, sipped. He grimaced. “Jesus. Sugar.”
Wolfe nodded happily. He was wearing ripped jeans, a torn shirt, and the same leather jacket. Was that the same outfit as yesterday? Or did he have that many pairs of ripped and torn clothing? A mangled ear above his left jacket pocket caught Angus’s eye.
He cleared his throat. “Wolfe? What’s in your pocket?”
“Oh.” Wolfe set down his coffee and took a cracker from his other pocket. He held it up. Slowly, a dirty kitten with bright blue eyes lifted up its head, took the cracker, and dropped back down. “That’s Kat,” Wolfe said.
“I know it’s a cat,” Angus said. Sure, the guy’s personnel file had gone into his PTSD, paranoia, and anger issues. But the soldier didn’t really seem nuts. “Why is there a kitten in your pocket?” Now those were words he’d never thought he’d say.
“Where else am I gonna put him?” Wolfe asked, reaching for his coffee again.
Angus turned to West, who was studying Wolfe, speculation in his green eyes. West shrugged.
Angus took one of the coffees. As a profiler, he had been one of the best before his meltdown. Had he made a mistake putting Wolfe on the team? They’d needed an Ops specialist as well as a guy who had no trouble breaking down doors—with his head, if necessary. “Where did you get the cat?”
“Kat.Kat. His name is Kat.” Wolfe polished off his coffee. “I found him over in the park. Looked for a mama or any littermates, but nothing. So either somebody dropped him off, or something out there got his family.”
“He’ll need shots.” West finally spoke up.
Angus shook his head. “You can’t make a kitten part of the team here.”
“You have a dog,” Wolfe said reasonably.
Well. That was true. “All right. But if he shows a penchant for booze, he’s out. One alcoholic animal around here is enough,” Angus said.
Wolfe nodded. “Fair enough. Besides, he likes goldfish.” Wolfe gave the cat another yellow treat. “Crackers. Goldfish Crackers. I haven’t given him a real goldfish. Yet.”
Angus watched the soldier. Very fine lines around his mouth. Oh, he was good, but he was joking. Probably. Besides degrees in psychology and criminology, Angus had extensively studied microexpressions. He’d been called a human lie detector, and it was almost true. Of course, most rules were tossed out the door when it came to sociopaths or the insane.
Roscoe perked up from the corner. Lumbering to his feet, he padded around the table and went straight for Wolfe.
Wolfe held still. “He won’t try to eat Kat, will he?”
“Roscoe, no bite,” Angus said easily. He could control the dog when it came to other animals. So long as they weren’t carrying whiskey somewhere.
Roscoe reached Wolfe and sniffed his pocket. Kat lifted his head up. One of his ears was slightly mangled, but his eyes were bright. He batted at Roscoe’s nose with one little paw. Roscoe turned and gave Angus a long-suffering look. Sighing, he moved back to his corner, lay down, and went back to sleep.
“Gentlemen?” Dr. Nari Zhang appeared at the door.
Angus jumped. “Jesus.” He looked down at the thick socks on her feet, which were intriguingly dainty. The new doc was way too appealing for him to be this irritated with her. Which only pissed him off more. “New rule. You keep the loud shoes on all day. No changing into socks.”
She rolled her eyes. “I had hoped to talk to all three of you about the shooting yesterday. It had to have brought up difficult memories. How did everyone sleep?”
“Fantastic,” West said smoothly.
“Never better,” Wolfe agreed.
“Like a baby,” Angus said.
Nari sighed. “You’re all morons. You can take that as my professional opinion.”
That quickly, she went from being a pain in the ass to being somewhat cute. Human, at least. Angus reminded himself that he liked big-boned women. Ones who could go all night and then go some more. Not some brilliant, delicate, fine-boned smart aleck. Nope. Not for him. “How about we talk about the cult case first?” he asked.
She blew out air as if thinking over an argument. Finally, she shrugged. “All right. You profile, me analyze.” As a Tarzan/Jane imitation, it sucked.
