reasonable question rather than telling him exactly how he was going to peel the flesh from his bones.
“Pennsylvania,” Freddy answered. “Over in—”
“He knows the way back, you can let him go now,” Analie broke in. She shot Freddy a warning look. Telling enemies the location of your home was one of the stupidest things you could ever do.
Royce shot her a withering look. “He’s underage and alone in one of the largest cities on the continent. I would be remiss to send him out on the streets by himself. The least I can do is see that he doesn’t come to harm on his way.” Irritated once more, he frowned severely at Freddy. “Unless you’d prefer to wait here after you call the people you’re staying with to come pick you up.”
Analie gritted her teeth, looking straight at what she hoped were Royce’s eyes and not his forehead or just past his ear. “He. Can. Take. Care. Of. Himself.”
Freddy couldn’t help but smile at that, and even felt a little braver.
On the other hand, Analie was feeling more nervous with each passing minute. True, Freddy was not officially part of Goliath now, but someone cared enough about him (or more likely Amelia’s nerves) to put him into cub-hide. And while the high-ranks and even Gregory would most likely roll their eyes if Freddy was breaking cub-hide, not concerning themselves with a shifter, he was breaking Analie’s. Freddy needed to get back to his hiding spot without fuss.
“Oh, really?” Royce was once again dry and sarcastic. He leaned back in the chair, throwing one leg over the other as he gestured at the throng in the packed coffeehouse. “Can you tell me which one of the people inside this room is a White Hat, then?”
His gaze slid over to Freddy, his voice low. “Tell me, boy, are you confident you could save yourself if they attacked you once you were out of the crowds? If you were ambushed by ten or fifteen more?”
Without waiting for an answer, he quickly rose and strode toward the exit. He didn’t bother looking back. “Good luck getting home alive. Analie, let’s go. We need to have a little talk, you and I.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait!” Analie grabbed Freddy’s arm and hauled him to his feet, almost knocking the table over. She hurried after Royce, dragging Freddy along with her, speaking in an urgent whisper. Heads were turning and people were now staring at the three rather curiously. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe there’s a White Hat in here. You’re lying.” She cut in front of Royce and faced him. “You’re bluffing.”
Freddy butted Analie’s shoulder with his own, the Goliath equivalent of tapping her shoulder. “Are there White Hats in Pennsylvania?” he murmured almost inaudibly.
“He’s not human, he can hear you,” Analie snapped, on edge.
Freddy flushed, embarrassed. God, Royce looked scary. He’d rather not be standing in his way right now. He’d rather be sprinting back to Pennsylvania.
Unless, of course, he was now going to be gunned down on some dark street by a bunch of yahoos with cowboy complexes.
Royce stopped when Analie jumped in front of him. His gaze flicked between the two, black eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Do you presume to accuse me of lying?”
Oh, wouldn’t that be bad for her if she was.
“Keep your voices down,” he admonished. He kept his own voice low and pleasant as the people around them started whispering about the weirdos. “Analie, turn around, and look to your left. Just beyond the counter, the girl sitting by herself with the laptop. Don’t stare. What do you see on her shirt collar?”
Analie turned and looked. Her sharp eyes spotted the small pin and she instinctively, protectively, tightened her grip on Freddy’s arm.
“Ow, arm,” Freddy winced.
She loosened her grip and turned back to Royce. “Okay, look, it was just too unbelievable. It’s not like I’m used to looking out for those psychos.” She looked at Freddy, who was shaking in fear. Not unusual, but the situation was. “Can we work something out? Something that doesn’t involve causing a kerfluffle or silvery death, and gets Freddy back to Pennsylvania?”
Royce gave her a withering look that probably would’ve been more effective if she could’ve seen it. “Are you sure you want my help? After all, he’s perfectly capable of finding his own way back, and I’m such a terrible person for offering some measure of protection in the first place.”
He was being petty on purpose. If she wanted to