Page 38 of Colton’s Mate

Remy shook his head. “Nah. I am totally in control of all my bodily functions.”

“Except your farts.”

But Colt knew Remy was holding something back, just like him. Fuck. Things were getting really messed up if they were keeping things from each other. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

He hoped not.

“What’s in the bag?” Remy asked.

“Something I need your help with.” Colt pulled one of the minicams out of the bag and showed it to Remy. “When we got back to Callie’s last night, the place had been searched—by pros. I couldn’t even tell. And then we found a whole pile of these, all over the house.” He told Remy about Rohene and the crows.

Colt said, “I’d like to know more about the cameras, see if we can tell where they came from or where the transmission was going.”

“And then what?” Remy asked. “We can’t take on the Corsairs—they’re a huge crew, from all accounts. And we can’t prove Callie doesn’t have the thingy.” He paused. “You sure she doesn’t have it?”

That had never occurred to him. “Why would she lie?”

Remy shrugged. “She grew up with the crows. If it’s a secret crow thing, maybe she wouldn’t tell anybody.” Remy glanced at him. “Just because she was willing to bang you doesn’t mean she’s going to confide her deep dark secrets to you.”

Colt opened his mouth to deny that they’d been banging, then closed it again. Holding stuff back temporarily was one thing, but lying flat-out to Remy was another. He never lied to Remy about anything, and this was a really bad time to start.

Not to mention that lying was pointless, because Callie’s scent was all over him.

Instead, he said, “Fight adrenalin. Intruder-in-the-house adrenalin. And a little too much whiskey.” Not exactly a lie. Probably the truth—he just didn’t want it to be only that.

Remy turned his head and looked steadily at Colt, who made sure he was very busy with his bag of minicams. Remy gave a soft snort and drove the rest of the way in silence.

Of course, the first person they saw when they got back to the house was Jason, the fucking crow. He still looked pretty beat up from the bar last night—bird shifters didn’t typically heal as fast as animal shifters.

He was never really in a good mood, but last night’s fight seemed to have made him even more sullen. Colt was just grateful Jason didn’t have the nose of an animal shifter, because if he smelled sex and Callie all over Colt, it would end in blood.

It did anyway.

Of course, Colt set him off. Sort of accidentally-on-purpose. “Whoa,” he said as he got out of the truck, forgetting he was wearing hardly any clothes and none of them were his. “You look like hell. You okay?”

Jason, who was kicked back on the redneck porch sofa with his morning beer, growled, “Not everyone heals as fast as you paw people. And also, not everyone is an asshole opportunist who was making out in the corner while everyone else was getting beat up.”

Kitty came out of the kitchen, Hostess cupcake in one hand and coffee in the other. “What? Who was making out?”

Jason pointed the top of his beer bottle at Colt. “This asshole was. With Callie. Bodies flying all around him, his supposed friends getting pounded on by people who want to fucking kill them, and all he can think about is taking advantage of a woman who just got out of an abusive relationship.”

Dammit. Colt couldn’t explain why Callie was kissing him without telling everybody he’d almost fucking Changed in the middle of a bar full of humans. “It wasn’t like that.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah? Then why are you coming home the next morning, wearing her brother’s clothes? I bet her scent is all over you.”

He glanced at Kitty for confirmation. With her wolf nose, Colt was in no doubt she knew exactly what he’d been doing. Sometimes he hated being in a crew.

Kitty didn’t say anything, but Jason could obviously see the answer on her face.

Colt said, “Callie can take care of herself.”

“No she can’t,” Jason replied heatedly. “She doesn’t know how.”

“Then maybe it’s about time somebody helped her learn.”

Jason put down his beer and rose to his feet, his posture aggressive. “Like you? From what I hear, your attention span with women isn’t even long enough to commit to watching a Netflix series. Let alone helping someone get over a year of abuse.”

“Which you did nothing to stop, by the way. Even though you were right there the whole time.”