Thank god.
Fox shrugs like he expected as much, then focuses on me. “Why don’t you take a seat, Morgan.”
Great they already made introductions. I wonder what else they told them about me.
I’m about to do as I’m told when Flint’s words come back to me. “No,” I say, meeting Fox’s gaze and straightening my shoulders. “I think I’ll stay where I am. Ask your fucking questions so we can all get on with our day.” Overkill? I’m starting to think so until I catch Lynx’s smirk out of the corner of my eye. Even though I’m still pissed off with him, there’s no denying the warmth that smirk sparks in my belly.
Fox’s eyes narrow as he stares at me for what feels like forever, then he shrugs. “Fine. I’m Detective Evan Fox and these are my associates.” He gestures to the two guys beside him, and Iwork hard to school my reaction. I guesshunterisn’t something you can share with humans. “We have a few questions for you.”
“About what?” If he’s going to play the police card, then he’s got to expect some push back.
He smiles, but his eyes remain cold. It’s unnerving to say the least. “There’s been a few break-ins reported. Vandalism, too. Eyewitnesses mentioned hearing multiple motorbikes, so this is just information gathering.”
“I assume you’ll be going to talk to the Feral Beasts too then?”
He grins. “Of course.”
I don’t know if all that’s a load of bollocks or not, but I don’t suppose it matters either. I can’t do anything to draw attention to the fact I know who they are. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” He gives me another smile that’s just as creepy as the one before. “What made you want to join the Wild Wolves motorcycle club?”
I take a deep steadying breath and tell him everything that happened to bring me here. That I had to move out, not why we lost our house. I don’t look at him as I speak. I don’t look at anyone. I focus on my hands as if they’re the most interesting things I’ve ever seen.
Fox asks me follow up questions.
Who did we sell our house to?
Have I been back there since?
Where did my dad move to?
What have I done since I arrived at the club?
What have I seen?
I give him what I hope are bland but acceptable enough answers. There’s no way to tell, though, because Fox’s expression barely changes. He watches me with a mix of amusement and menace. It’s an unsettling combination.
After I’m done speaking, Fox sits back and crosses his arms. His gaze bores into me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. Lynx and the others might be shifters, but my gut’s telling me that somehow Fox and the others are the monsters here.
“We done?” Lynx asks, voice cold.
I don’t hold my breath, but it’s a close thing.
“For now.” Fox straightens and the two beside him do the same. “Don’t go anywhere.” He gives me a slow, thorough once-over, gaze lingering low on my throat.
Where the faint scars are from when the Feral Beasts bit me.
I barely resist covering them with my hand.
“I suspect we’ll be revisiting this conversation soon,” Fox adds, then faces Lynx. “I think you know it’s in your best interests not to add any more...prospectsto your club.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, dismissing Lynx and the others like they couldn’t tear his fucking face off if they wanted to. Judging by their expressions, that’s the exact thought running through their minds right now. As Fox passes me, he reaches out and grips my shoulder, fingers splaying wide, so the tips scrape the bottom of my neck. “See you soon, Morgan Webb,” he whispers.
And then he’s gone.
The growl Lynx lets out is so low it seeps into my bones, and when I look up, it’s taking both Cal and Jet to hold him in place.
The two hunters who were leant against the back wall go to leave, but one of them stops. His gaze flicks to Jet, before landing on Lynx. “Sorry about him,” he says quietly, then disappears out the door.
“I’ll make sure they leave,” Flint says and follows.
