me,” said Dementor. “We’ll have to vote on whatever ya’ll decide, and it will have to be enough to make a statement.”
“Agreed,” said Clean. “The two of you come to an agreement, and we’ll vote on it, but it’ll have to be enough to address the way she walked out.” He looked at me. “And if you don’t deliver them hard enough, Squatch or Mad Dog will have to take over.”
No one else spoke, so Mad Dog brought up the next issue.
We hold Church in the subbasement of the clubhouse, so we had to go up a few flights of steps and down a long hallway to get back to the clubhouse’s main room. I was cutting up with my brothers, but one of the new prospects caught my eye. Again. Something about him bugged me. I hadn’t been able to put a finger on it, but I decided it was time I figured it out.
Owls have excellent eyesight and hearing. However, unlike most other shifters, we don’t have an excellent sense of smell. We can smell more than a human, but nowhere near what a wolf or cat can pick up. Thankfully, however, we can pick up micro-expressions and other physiological signs that most people have no idea exist. I can tell so much about a person by the way their facial muscles flex, the way the blood flow shifts and moves, and tiny changes in the way their eyes focus.
And something was off about this prospect. He’d come in as a mechanic. No certification, but he knew what he was doing.
“Yo. Prospect. I’m gonna hit the range. Come with — let’s see how you can shoot.”
You can’t always tell a cop by the way they shoot, but sometimes it’s obvious. If they were in the military, or spent a lot of time shooting as a kid, it’s easier for them to hide it. LEO hadn’t tried to infiltrate us in a long damned time, but we’d lost our head Brainiac in the fighting, so now would be the time to try again.
I didn’t get anything out of him while we shot, other than a deeper feeling that something wasn’t right. Dude was a lone wolf, not part of a pack. Originally from Texas, complete with the accent.
“So, what brought you to Birmingham?” I asked as we were sweeping our brass and preparing to go.
“My sister joined the Pack. Tried to convince me things are different here. I came to check it out. Don’t want to oath myself to anyone, no matter how nice or honorable or whatever. Our mom died in the fighting. Dad’s in Europe, so I figure I may as well stay in town close to her.”
And if that was his official backstory, it would all show up when we looked at his history. The government is good at that. I needed something off-the-wall to ask him, but nothing came to mind. I’m told he never smells of a lie, even by our best sniffers. Nothing he said showed as a lie to me either, but...
“You a cop?”
Three heartbeats. Blood infusing tiny capillaries all over his face. His pupils contracted. Major stress.
“Why would you even ask that? Of course I’m not.”
Ah. There it was. Surprise. Fear. Anger. He was good at hiding his nervousness, but I could see it. The asshole was LEO, but not a cop. Perhaps an FBI agent. Something that meant cop but was a different word.
“Have you seen us do anything illegal since you’ve been with us?”
Disappointment, and still anger. “No. Did I do something to anger you?”
“So, it’s all been a waste of time? Two months with us, and nothing to show for it?”
His muscles smoothed, but the blood flow stayed the same. He was good at managing his stress, but his blood pressure wasn’t cooperating.
“I feel like we had a misstep somewhere. Maybe we should get Mad Dog involved in the conversation?”
“Not yet. You can feel free to talk to him, though. Let him know I’m pretty sure you’re a cop, or maybe an agent.”
He shook his head. “I can’t prove a negative. I enjoyed shooting with you. Let me know if you need anything.”
Chapter Ten
Cheyenne
Nora let herself in the front door, walked into my kitchen, and took a deep breath. “You had sex with him. A lot.”
“Don’t be rude, Nora. Part of being a shapeshifter means not bringing stuff like that up. It feels a little like you want to talk about me in an effort to keep from