to dance.
Understood. We’ll move tomorrow night. Stay in place until then.
“Oh, hey, give them a name for me. Rylee Rashad.” Ben briefly explained the meeting and the encounter with the human fan who inadvertently identified Paul’s contact.
B says Paul met with Rylee Rashad this afternoon. She’s the supplier.
Interesting intel. Good job. Stay in touch through the day tomorrow and let us know if anything changes.
Will do.
Oliver erased the text thread, hid the phone back in a pair of socks in the drawer, and sighed. Instantly, Ben was there, rubbing his arm. “What is it?”
“I want to get them out of there now.”
Ben kissed Oliver’s neck, a gentle, barely there touch, but it reverberated through Oliver’s system like someone had struck a gong inside of him.
“I know,” Ben murmured. “But FUC will bring in a team of experienced agents. I don’t know about you, but I’m about at my limit, you know? Don’t get me wrong. I feel like we’re making a difference. I just…”
“Feel like you’ve been tossed overboard with a slowly deflating raft?”
Ben chuckled. “Something like that, yeah.” He kissed Oliver again. “Come to bed. We can’t do anything tonight.”
Oliver smiled. “We can do each other.”
“That’s terrible.”
Oliver jumped his bull. “I’ll show you terrible.”
Ben gazed at him, heat and something more in his eyes. “Never.”
11
Ben kissed Oliver and watched him leave through the French doors off the kitchen, one of the exterior guards trailing him as he made his way over to the rec room. They’d watched the ten shifters be herded over to it a few minutes ago, but the guards wouldn’t let Oliver out until they were all back behind closed, and Ben assumed locked, doors.
God, he hoped FUC moved quickly. He hoped none of the captive shifters got hurt. He hoped none of the FUC agents did, either. He hoped—
“Mother fucker!”
Ben almost dropped his coffee cup at Paul’s shout. He left it on the counter, ignoring the bit of java that spilled, and raced into Paul’s study. Regan and two other guards had beat him there. Paul looked agitated, pacing behind his giant desk, his hair showing evidence of a hand having been run through it quickly.
“Boss?” Regan ventured.
“Rylee’s place was raided by the human cops this morning,” Paul snarled. He paused in his pacing to grab a glass paperweight from his desk and throw it at the wall as hard as he could.
It shattered on impact, splinters flying everywhere. Regan hissed and brushed his hand against his cheek. It came away smeared with blood, but Paul didn’t notice.
“The human cops are supposed to be oblivious. I pay them enough to be oblivious.”
Regan swiped at his cheek one last time. “We’ll find out who—”
“Yeah, we will. But for right now…” Paul shook his head. “Get rid of them.”
“Boss?”
“We’ll move locations in the next few weeks, once I get something lined up. But in the meantime, I don’t want any evidence of anything here. In case they raid us. Got it? Everything goes.”
“On it.” Regan turned on his heel to carry out Paul’s order, but shock kept Ben rooted to the spot.
“Get rid of them how?” he blurted out.
“We’re going to set them free in the forest.” Regan smacked the back of Ben’s head. “How do you think, idiot?”
Kill them? They were going to kill them?
Well, yeah. What did you do when your “product” became inconvenient?
You liquidated it.
Ben nodded slowly, like he was processing Regan’s words, and let Regan and the other two guards precede him out of Paul’s study. When they reached the kitchen, he acted.
He shoved Regan from behind into the counter, feeling a distant satisfaction when his head cracked against the granite. Regan dropped like a stone, and Ben turned his attention to the two guards. He kicked one in the balls—as hard as he could—and tried not to wince in sympathy as the guy crumpled in on himself. The other pulled out his gun, but Ben grabbed his wrist and put him in an arm bar until something gave with a snap. The guy howled and fell to his knees. Regan struggled back to his feet, blinking and blurry eyed. Ben spun and nailed him in the head with a reverse kick. It connected and Regan dropped again. Yes! He wouldn’t have been able to do that move a month ago, without Oliver’s flexibility training. But he didn’t have time to celebrate.
He had to get the shifters out. He had to save Oliver.
A bullet whizzed by his ear as he reached the building