Abram looked up as Ranger stepped in the office, his blues eyes bright and beautiful. “Are you here to deliver Shaw’s report?”
“Yes, sir,” Ranger said, standing in front of Abram’s desk, his arms relaxed at his sides. “Shaw sent me back to New York after finding the guilty party, a wolf shifter named Brock Townsend.”
Abram looked at Ranger as if he were confused by what he was hearing. “Where’s Shaw?”
“New Orleans,” Ranger said, and Abram sat up a little straighter as he considered Ranger’s words.
“You both questioned Brock Townsend?” Abram asked, staring intently at him.
Ranger opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out exactly what to say. Did they question Brock? No. Were they supposed to? Hadn’t they been chasing down paranormals and dishing out punishments without worrying about the “why?” “He might be new, but so far, Ranger didn’t feel as though he really belonged. He’d been training and shadowing a couple of the agents. He hadn’t gone on a real “mission.” Going to New Orleans was the first time he’d been in the field.
“I wasn’t part of the interrogation process, sir. Shaw ordered me to return to New York.”
“Ordered you back?” Abram raised a brow.
“Yes, sir,” Ranger confirmed with a single nod. After a few moments of silence, Ranger asked, “Permission to speak freely?”
Abram grinned, “This isn’t the military, Ranger. I appreciate you calling me ‘sir,’ but it’s not necessary. You can always speak openly and voice your thoughts and opinions.”
“I’m not sure about protocol when it comes to being an agent. We’re supposed to deliver justice by punishing paranormals, but shouldn’t we have more facts?”
“We deliver justice to paranormals that refuse to follow our laws. We don’t have a jail. We’re supposed to be smarter, faster, and better than humans.” He shook his head as if he didn’t necessarily believe what he was saying. He took a deep breath before finally continuing. “Killing a human usually means death to paranormals. That’s the law. But, there are lesser punishments and I trust my agents to make that decision.”
“What about self-defense? What if a shifter is trying to protect their pack and family? Does that not matter?” Ranger stared into Abram’s bright blue globes. “A paranormal kills and then we kill. That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s why we question the suspects, Ranger. I don’t condone mindless killing. That’s not what I want from my agents. We use our senses to find evidence, hunt down the guilty party, interrogate, and decide the outcome. Delivering punishment is part of this job. If you can’t hunt and kill rogues, this isn’t the place for you. We’re not just protecting humans. We’re protecting other paranormals as well.”
Abram didn’t say anything else. He grabbed the phone off his desk and punched the buttons. Holding the phone against his ear, he made a face.
“Shaw, call my office,” Abram said before muttering something to himself. Looking back up at Ranger, he pointed to one of the two open chairs and said, “Take a seat.” Once seated, Abram continued. “Tell me everything you and Shaw did from the moment you landed in New Orleans.”
Ranger walked Abram through exactly what happened up to the point where he left The Castle and stepped onto the agency’s private jet.
Abram picked up the phone and hit a button. He listened closely as the phone went directly to voice mail. “Something’s not right.”
Chapter 9
Shaw yawned as he arched his back.
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to wake himself up, but he was fading fast. They had been on the road for twelve hours and Shaw knew they weren’t even at the halfway point. Glancing at the dash, three a.m. was shining bright. He looked down at Brock. The man was fast asleep, with his head on Shaw’s thigh and his pillow wrapped tightly against his chest. Although he wanted to keep driving so they could reach his home, he didn’t want to put either of them in danger by falling asleep.
So far, the drive had been entertaining. He’d learned a lot about his mate, from Brock’s favorite color, blue, to his favorite food, hamburger and French fries. They also had more in-depth conversations about dreams, goals, and aspirations. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know. He’d asked questions until Brock finally fell asleep.
Putting the blinker on, Shaw pulled to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. He unbuckled his seat belt and carefully adjusted his position, trying not to jostle Brock. Shaw leaned the driver seat down and closed his eyes. Using one hand, he reached out and ran his fingers over Brock’s short hair. The shaved ends tickled his fingers and he grinned.