trap he was about to lay for them.
With their fast metabolism, it took a lot of alcohol to get a shifter drunk. But these two had somehow managed it, if their red faces and slurred speech were anything to go by.
Beau could also tell by the way they moved that they were likely to be some kind of fiery-tempered, hotheaded shifter type. He couldn’t tell exactly what their shifted forms would be, but he’d been around enough of them at the Corps to know them when he saw them.
It doesn’t take much to tip those types over the edge, Beau thought, as he sidled up.
A quick elbow to the closer guy’s upper arm was all it took to send his drink flying all over the other one’s shirtfront. By the time the first man had worked out what had happened and begun to turn to confront whoever had elbowed him, Beau had already moved on – and the man he’d spilled his drink over was already making a fuss over it.
“Hey, what the fuck, man?” Beau heard his voice ringing out above the general chatter of the room. “Watch what you’re doing! Fuck’s sake! Are you stupid or something?”
Beau didn’t need to look to know the man with the spilled drink wouldn’t exactly enjoy being called stupid, and he wasn’t surprised a moment later when the sound of incoherent yelling and landing punches rang out.
As he’d hoped they would, the heavies guarding the various doorways around the foyer left their posts to rush over and break up the fight, faces stern. There was no way they were going to let a drunken brawl upset the fine evening their boss had set up.
With his frame and height, Beau wasn’t exactly built for sneaking around, but he could be stealthy when he needed to be.
As the guard he’d been eyeing off left his place in front of the doorway beneath the stairs, Beau slipped into the shadows, pressing down on the door handle.
Unlocked. That’s… interesting, Beau thought as the door opened smoothly. He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder it, though. He slipped through the door, closing it silently behind him.
He found himself in a plush corridor, wood paneled, a thick red carpet running its full length and leading to a small set of stairs.
I bet I know where those go.
Keeping an ear cocked for the sound of any movement, Beau took the stairs straight up, and found himself exactly where he’d predicted: in the cluster of rooms at the top of the structure. They mapped directly onto what his eagle eyes had surveyed.
Glancing around, Beau grimaced. He’d promised Annie he’d be back in half an hour, and he was starting to get pushed for time. He didn’t want to leave her in that gambling hall any longer than he absolutely had to.
I’ll be with you soon, Annie, he promised her in his mind as he tried the first door he came to, after first listening carefully for any signs of life in the room on the other side. Just hold on a little longer.
The first room was empty – a library, it seemed – but in the second one –
Scott’s head shot up as Beau opened the door. He was sitting on a dark red armchair by a window, his clothes rumpled and looking as if he hadn’t slept in days, though Beau knew at most he’d only been trapped here for a few hours.
Maybe that’s what a guilty conscience does to you, Beau thought as Scott gaped at him. Assuming he has one, of course.
“You –!” Scott gasped after staring open-mouthed at Beau for a moment. “I knew there was something fishy about you from the moment I saw you!”
Beau forced himself not to grimace in annoyance. He hadn’t been certain Scott would recognize him, or if he’d been too blinded by his own bruised ego to memorize his face. He’d been hoping Scott wouldn’t remember him. Now, it was going to be just that much harder to convince him to come with him, and Beau was running short of both time and patience.
I have to get back to Annie.
“I don’t have time to explain everything to you right now,” he said shortly. “Just know that I’m not with the people who have you prisoner here. I’m here to get you out.”
Scott looked at him, clearly dubious.
“Are you one of them?” he asked after a moment. “One of those things – those shifters?”
Oh, this is the last thing