“You’re a fucking moron,” Mark said under his breath, obviously talking about the relationship between him and Becca. It was stupid on all sorts of levels, but it hurt hearing that condemnation from his best friend. And then Mark softened. “But she smells good and hasn’t freaked. Plus, she raised a good kid. I’d say you could do lots worse.” Then he turned back to Becca. “You’re too good for him. Let me know if you want to explore other options.”
Becca turned an adorable shade of rosy pink. Meanwhile, Alan scanned the tree line with a worried expression. “Are we really just going to sit and wait?”
“No,” Carl answered. “We can be effective without screwing up the cops.” He just had to figure out exactly how to help without jeopardizing Becca’s safety. So he turned to Mark. “Report,” he snapped.
Mark ignored him long enough to give Becca a final low, sexual growl. It was all for show. Mark would never poach on Carl’s territory—female or otherwise—but Carl had watched scores of women fall for that deep purr. He’d be damned if he let Becca fall prey to the lure that was his hypersexed best friend.
And then, just like that, Mark flipped to being all business, reporting in a flat tone. “I’m on perimeter search. Definitely something weird there.”
“Weird how?”
“They’re undermanned. I see a bunch of women and a few preteen boys dressed up to look big.”
Carl frowned, pulling out his cell phone to access Google Earth. He wanted a satellite view of the area.
“I got it,” said Alan, as he reached into his car and pulled out his tablet. A moment later, they were looking at a clear image of the local area, complete with three big buildings and a half dozen smaller ones, four of which had gun turrets.
Mark crowded in, pointing as he spoke. “They’ve got people here and here,” he said. “Roof, too, and one in every turret.” Then his finger circled a dirt track on the east side. “Smells hinky as shit here.”
“A little more precise, please,” Carl said.
“Medical smells. Anesthetic, blood, urine. But weird, too. Animals: dog, cat, monkey.”
“Monkey?” Alan asked. “They have a monkey?”
“More than one.”
Definitely hinky.
“I’m going to scout this last side. Try not to shoot each other.”
“Mark, wait?—”
Too late. The man had already headed off, moving quickly and silently through the trees. Carl wanted to grab him by the scruff of the neck and shake the man. The idiot was too close to the end, his bear dominating everything. It was in his scent, his quick movements, and his short, tight sentences. How much time did his best friend have before he became all bear? Until he went insane and Carl had to kill him? This was not the time for the idiot to rush into danger that might trigger that last change into animal. And even worse, what if his best friend was hoping to trigger the change so that ATF would put him down? It would spare Carl, but damn it, that was not what anyone wanted.
Meanwhile, Alan came to his side, speaking in a low undertone. “He ate at the cafeteria sometime around dawn. Told Marty the stew needed more beef.”
“Probably said it was overcooked, too.” Grizzlies like their meat raw.
Alan didn’t answer, so Carl shifted to glare at his brother. He didn’t like it when the two people closest to him kept secrets. “What did he give you?”
“Asphyxiation?” Alan quipped as he shoved his hands into his coat.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me,” Carl snapped. “And that’s a goddamned order!”
His brother’s expression shuttered down, his jaw tightening in fury. But it lasted only a second before he answered by pulling a set of keys from his pocket. Carl immediately started swearing vehemently enough that Becca jolted.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing!” both men said together.
“Sorry,” Carl said as he gestured for his brother to put away the keys.
Becca folded her arms and glared at them. “Do I look stupid to you?”
Alan raised his hands in surrender and backed away. “This is a job for Mr. Max.”
God, it sucked being in charge.
