Page 7 of Remington’s Mate

Remy turned to Kitty. “I never know when he’s fucking with me.”

That got the ghost of a smile from Squatch. “I know.”

“Fuck you,” Remy said. “Hell, fuck everybody.”

Brandon’s cell phone rang, vibrating across the countertop.

Everyone automatically chorused, “No cell phones during Sunday brunch!”

That was a rule instituted mainly because of Colt and Remy—back when they had social lives. Brandon gave all of them the finger.

“Alpha privilege,” he said, picking up the phone. “And anyway, it’s Colt.”

“Fuck him, too,” Remy said. Why was Colt calling Brandon instead of him?

Brandon answered the call. “Switching to video,” he said to Colt. “Hope you’re not naked.” He tapped the screen and propped the phone against a mixing bowl. “Hey, bro. What’s up? You and Callie missing my pancakes?”

Kitty called, “Brandon made two extra-special kitty-cat pancakes in your honor.”

Titan added, “They’re dead now. We ate them.”

“I’m touched,” Colt said. “Fuck you so much. It feels awesome to be eaten.”

They heard Callie’s voice in the background: “That’s what I always say.” Colt smirked.

Remy glanced at the time. “Dude. It’s like, stupid o’clock a.m. there. Please tell me you didn’t give up your pre-breakfast orgasms just to call home.”

“Duh. I wouldn’t give up any orgasms just to talk to you losers. Brandon, we have a problem.”

Chapter 4

Colt went on, “Actually, we have two problems. Case-related.”

That made them all sit up and listen. Brandon had gotten his private investigator’s license a few months ago, and this was his first major case. Colt and Remy were working it with him.

It involved a project manager at a major construction firm, a guy by the name of Bruce Martin. He’d suspected his boss—Ethan Sutcliffe—was ordering substandard materials and relabeling them as the real deal, skimming millions from the company and endangering thousands of lives with major buildings that were nowhere near up to code.

About the time he was planning on turning Sutcliffe in, Martin had an unexplained work site ‘accident’ that his wife was sure was no accident at all. He was still in a coma. His wife had hired Brandon to get proof against Sutcliffe.

Colt was their way in. He was a licensed contractor and structural engineer, and they’d used all his contacts in the construction business, plus Remy’s hacking skills, to set Colt up as the perfect willing-to-be-corrupted replacement project manager.

They had a meeting set for this coming Thursday, after Colt and Callie got back from Colorado.

“Fuck,” Brandon said now. “What is it?”

“I got an email a few minutes ago from Sutcliffe. He’s changed the meeting to tomorrow morning. 10:30 a.m.”

“Damn it all to hell,” Brandon muttered. “Did he say why?”

“No. In fact, I got the distinct impression that the only reason was to see if I’d jump when he said to. As far as I can tell, it’s a power play, to prove who’s in charge.”

“And we want him to think that’s him.”

“Yeah. If we push back, I’m worried he might bail.”

Brandon thought for a minute. “Okay. It’s not for another twenty-four hours. You could make the drive easy, if you’re willing to leave now and give up your vacation. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah well, that’s the other thing,” Colt said. “I would, but there’s a major blizzard going on here. Started last night, and they’re expecting a total of two, two and a half feet by this evening. Nothing’s moving—no planes, no trains, no automobiles. Unless I teleport, there’s no way I can be back in Kentucky by tomorrow morning.”