At least that was what we were led to believe.
“Scotts knows what he’s doing.”
“That human?” The emotions on his face shut down, and he snorted.
Anger roared back to life. “Do you really think this is the first case we’ve come across?” She gave him a cynical look. “You’re a fool.”
“Must be nice coming from someone who doesn’t understand what it’s like to live inside the pack. Things are different. Rules have to be maintained. You’ve never had to watch people you know gunned down and murdered. Never knowing who’d be next.”
A bubble of laughter worked its way up her throat. “You pompous ass. Do you actually believe the wolves have it worse than anyone else?” She cast him a cynical glance, then focused on the road again. “Funny, but I saw bodies from both sides of the war. Wolves were very few and far between.”
The animosity in the air made breathing difficult. “The pack takes care of their own. We’ll find the killer. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s why you said an animal and human tore them apart when you know damn well a shifter was responsible.” Her shoulders slumped. That mentality only made it harder on the paranormal community. It raised suspicions and created a dangerous situation. Vigilante justice. If the public learned of it, a rift would form and all the races would suffer. The dunderhead didn’t understand or was too stubborn to care. “Scotts is a good man. He’s trained for these types of situations. He knows when he’s over his head.”
“And he calls you? What the hell good will that do?” A harsh laugh grated on her nerves. “I bet you’re even in favor of the new paranormal unit joke the government is trying to enforce.”
And just like that, any connection she felt to him was severed. “Maybe if you got rid of that big chip on your shoulder and paid attention to the world outside your pack, you’d know that something needs to be done before everything blows up in our faces.” She would not go back to the war.
“It’s a last-ditch pity attempt to appease the breeds.”
She grimaced when he used the slur humans flung at them. “So what. Who cares, if it actually works.” If Jackson wanted to play cop, he was more than welcome. But she would not allow him to jeopardize everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. If he thought to step in on her case, he’d quickly find out why she was so good at her job.
Chapter Six
“This isn’t working. One call and I know I can convince them to make an exception. There are a few days left of the auction.”
Raven drew up short outside her room at Jackson’s comment. She was surprised to feel the pinch of betrayal even though she knew it would be the best decision for all of them. Especially since the scene at the park an hour ago.
“I want to stay.” There was only a calmness in that voice. She didn’t understand it.
“She won’t be able to keep you. She’s not registered. If the council demands proof of her suitability, she won’t be able to pass the tests.” The soft tone revealed a compassion for the boy she’d never expected.
He cared. It created a picture of a man determined to protect. She couldn’t fault him that despite his low opinion of her, but his comment prodded her curiosity. Tests? What tests? She crept closer.
“You’re wrong.” Taggert seemed equally convinced.
She took the last two steps and entered the doorway. Taggert stood in front of her dresser, touching the few possessions that she left out, but otherwise avoiding Jackson. His submissive nature made her feel very protective. An illusion. Both men had their backs to her. In comparing them, she was shocked to realize Taggert wasn’t much smaller in stature than Jackson.
As if sensing her regard, Taggert lifted his head and their eyes met in the mirror. He instantly dropped his hand, but didn’t release her gaze. She could detect nothing in his expression that indicated any type of emotion.
“You said I was allowed to choose any room.”
His empty bag rested near the bay window. When she looked back at him, he’d turned to face her. She’d bet her life he knew this was her room. Not that she used it often, as sleep was a rarity for her, but what little possessions she’d accumulated were here.
Then she saw the slight flexing of his fingers. Somehow he knew and still chose it. She didn’t believe it was to pick a fight, but she had to know why.
“Yet you selected mine.” She stepped closer to them, unwilling to back down without him giving her something. Everything about him was so controlled she doubted he even knew how to be spontaneous. Maybe if she pushed and broke through his shell, he’d drop the act.