Stepping to the side of the door as the other six Breeds covered the panel, she watched as he touched the comm link at his ear and flipped down the small wand to rest at the side of his cheek.
“Yes, sir, Mr. and Mrs. McQuade’s daughters are at the door. Gypsy requests access to ascertain the charges being brought against her parents and to assure herself of their well-being.”
God no.
Oh God, if they charged her parents with Breed Law, there would be no fixing the damage it would make to their lives.
“Gypsy, what is he talking about?” Kandy cried out, though her voice was low, from behind her. “What charges?”
When she didn’t answer, her sister grabbed her arm firmly, sending a rush of almost violent pain stabbing at her flesh before she hurriedly jerked back, turning to face the young woman she had always tried to protect.
“What is he talking about?” her sister demanded, tears bright and threatening to fall from her eyes as the Coyote behind her, Loki, stood with his back to the wall, his head lowered as he apparently stared at the tips of his dusty, worn boots.
For a second, she could swear she had met him before his arrival in Window Rock two months before. Something about his shaggy, dark blond hair kept tugging at her memory before she was forced to focus her attention on her sister instead.
“It’s a long story, Kandy,” she muttered, swiping her fingers through her unbound hair, and glanced back at Flint.
She wanted to hear what he was saying, but her sister refused to wait.
“Then start talking.” Younger, but by no means less determined, her sister stared back at her furiously, the tears in her eyes threatening to fall at any minute.
“He knows.” She nodded to Loki. “That’s why he distracted you and held you back when you arrived with Mom and Dad. Isn’t it, Loki? You already suspected what they were going to do. Why didn’t you tell Kandy before she warned me that they were here?”
He looked up at her through the generous length of gold-tipped lashes, his features impassive, his dark gray eyes flat and deliberately cool.
“How was I supposed to know, Gypsy? I intended to take Kandy out to lunch when your parents arrived with her, concerned about the rumors that Rule had kidnapped you from that bar. They had already requested the meeting with Jonas after they were called and assured of your safety. Assured you would contact them later. They wouldn’t wait for Kandy and me to talk a minute; they didn’t even acknowledge that she had stopped to speak to me. They just stalked to the elevators and demanded to see the director,” he told her quietly, his eyes shifting with such a slight movement to the Breeds behind her that she doubted they even knew he’d done so. When they came back to her, there was a warning in them before he then allowed the shift to move in Kandy’s direction.
The message was clear. Drop the subject or Kandy could become involved as well.
He’d deliberately delayed Kandy, there was no doubt about it, just in case her parents were stupid enough to pull the same stunt they had pulled the last time they had arrived at the hotel to speak with Jonas.
“Gypsy.” Flint drew her attention as he stepped from his position against the far wall, his gaze solemn as she felt her throat tighten apprehensively.
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans and hunching her shoulders protectively against whatever bad news he might be delivering, she faced him anxiously.
“Assistant Director Brannigan is on his way up,” he informed her, watching her warily now. “Now listen to me, he’s not Jonas. Jonas knows you. He feels protective toward you, and that’s allowed you to get away with a hell of a lot since he arrived here, things Brannigan’s not going to tolerate.”
It was more than clear that he was worried as Gypsy frowned, glaring back at him. “What the hell are you trying to say, Flint?” Her hands came out of her pockets, crossed over her br**sts.
She watched him militantly, suddenly angry at the implication that she didn’t know how to be polite.
“I believe,” a familiar, imposing voice spoke before Flint could answer her, causing her to whirl around in surprise, “that you’re a bit rude, Ms. McQuade, unless it suits you to be polite. Which, as I understand it, it rarely does.”
Mr. Freaky from the bar.
Just what she needed, another smart-ass Breed.
His smile was all teeth and curved canines.
And a Coyote to boot. Just what the hell she needed. Other than certain ones, she did not get along with Coyotes very well.
“Loki, could you please escort Ms. McQuade the younger to your suite until I contact you?” It might have been phrased as a request, but it was clearly an order.
Loki gave a sharp nod as he straightened, his gaze meeting the frozen, Celtic green gaze of the assistant director warily before he turned to Kandy and extended his hand to her.
“Gypsy, please tell me what’s going on,” Kandy whispered tearfully, breaking Gypsy’s heart. “I’m scared.”
“I want to go home,” she whispered as Mark stared back at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I’m scared, Mark.”