Pulling the phone from the holster, he stared at the number and grimaced in irritation. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with this right now, but damn if he wasn’t fucking obligated.
Finding his mate might have started the process of returning his sanity, but a few individuals had been instrumental in completing the process and making certain he found his way to Lobo Reever’s ranch with enough credentials and references to ensure he was hired on the estate.
“Yeah?” He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t take long. A useless hope in most cases where this hybrid was concerned.
“The jig is up, old chap.” Amused and inherently irritating, that foreign accent cloaked in a lazy drawl never failed to raise his hackles.
This time, they didn’t just rise, they started doing a little jig on the back of his neck.
“What jig?” he growled, though he had a feeling he knew exactly what the “jig” was.
“Contact Jonas,” he was ordered, the voice firming with the demand. “Or we’re all going to be in damned hot water, with more Breeds after our asses than we know what to do with. And I’m sincerely not in the mood to have to explain getting caught to my sire.”
Graeme snorted at the order. “Let me guess, you managed to fuck this up before I could finish saving that kid’s life? Why doesn’t that surprise me, you little prick?”
Why didn’t that surprise him?
This wasn’t the first time he’d worked with the bastard, and though the hybrid was usually damned competent, there were times, highly inconvenient times, when he had a habit of throwing a monkey in the works and letting it play hell with the plan.
Graeme always thought it better to just shoot the fucking monkey, but what the hell did he know? He was just the Breed who managed to hide right under everyone’s nose. And how did he accomplish that, he asked with silent sarcasm. Let’s see, he stayed the fuck out everyone else’s business maybe?
“When’s the next injection due and how many before we’re finished?” Hell, now the accent had managed to completely disappear; that didn’t bode really well for him. That meant he could possibly get sacrificed as a useful but regrettably required casualty. And that wasn’t a part Graeme had any intention of playing.
“Final injection is due within the next eighteen hours.” And he was damned glad it was the final one. Hearing that baby’s pain-filled cries and the patient, unwavering love and pain in her mother’s voice was taking a toll on his hard-won sanity.
“We have forty-eight hours,” he was told imperiously. “Get Jonas the information he needs or my partner and I are history here. Someone witnessed a meeting we had with our contact in the Unknown. If you don’t give up the secrets, my friend, we’re all screwed.”
A snarl escaped before he could control it. Dragging his hand over the dance of nerves being played out over the back of his neck, Graeme checked the mirror he kept hanging on the wall next to his work area.
Fuck. Fuck. Was that a shadow of a stripe coming across his face? He was going to kill the little bastard on the other end of the call before it was over with.
“You’re the one who was caught,” he reminded the other man coldly. “Unlike you, I’m not into the damned games and machinations you and your brother so enjoy. I keep my nose out of everyone else’s business and get along damned fine. If I contact Jonas before that final injection, there’s no way in hell I’ll get in there to finish it. And I’m not quite so willing to sacrifice that child’s life for yours, asshole.”
“Finish it, then contact him,” he was ordered. “But have it done in the required amount of time, Graeme. Because if our witness identifies me and our partner, then we’ll give up the goods on you to save our own asses. Never doubt it.”