“Yes. Your father is and always has been a valuable asset to our organization.” Quinton glanced away, toward the door. “Let’s take a walk, Miss Peters.”
Warrick stepped forward, but Quinton shook his head and held out his hand to halt his advance.
“I would like this time alone with Sienna. We will be back within the hour.”
Dammit. Tension coiled through Warrick’s muscles as he watched the unease flare in Sienna’s eyes. She turned her gaze to him and there was a blatant plea that he insist on coming with her. That he not allow Quinton to take her off alone.
His jaw flexed and he bit his tongue to resist the immediate protest that rose to his lips. Quinton wouldn’t hurt her. Warrick was 100 percent confident of that fact. He had absolutely no right to protest the man’s decision. Quinton pulled rank on everyone in this room. Including the alpha.
You’ll be all right, Sienna. He tried to silently convey the message in his gaze and gave her a reassuring semblance of a smile and brief nod.
Her mouth tightened and frustration flickered in her eyes, before she reluctantly took the arm that Quinton held out for her.
Warrick watched them leave the safe house, the tension inside him only increasing. She would be fine. He knew it. But it sure as hell didn’t give him any peace of mind.
How in the hell could Warrick send her off alone with this jerk?
As she allowed Agent Quinton to lead her outside, Sienna’s shoulders were so stiff that tension radiated up her neck and began a slow pounding in her head.
With her free hand, she pressed her fingers against her temples and briefly closed her eyes.
“Are you feeling all right, Miss Peters?”
“I’m fine,” she said tersely, snapping her eyes open once more and staring ahead at the path they now followed. “But let me just be up-front and say I don’t want any bullshit chitchat. Just ask me outright what you want to know.”
Quinton laughed softly and released her arm. “I’m enjoying your directness. Will you be as forthcoming with your answers?”
“I’ll let you take a wild guess on that one,” she muttered and stepped a few inches away from him.
Why the hell she felt so rebellious, God only knew. This man was only doing his job, and Warrick apparently respected the man quite a bit. But she didn’t particularly care for the harsh, bullish attitude he put on.
If she’d hoped to throw him with her response, she was out of luck. His laughter just grew, seeming even more genuine now.
“You have more than just appearance in common with your mother, it would seem.”
Sienna stumbled on the trail as her pulse quickened. She shot Quinton a quick glance. “You knew my mother?”
“Yes. I met her when she first moved to Boston with your father. I was sorry to hear of her death.” Even though his expression remained passive, something flickered in his eyes.
Sienna felt a familiar tension slide through her muscles, the same tension that came when someone brought up her mother. “It was ten years ago. I barely think about her anymore.” And it was true, though when she did, it always left a sadness that weighed heavily on her heart.
“Really?”
“Well, most of my memories of her weren’t exactly white-picket-fence material. She and Dad were always fighting, and I know she struggled with depression.” And why the hell did I just tell him that? Sienna blinked in dismay, shaking her head as she quickened her stride. “Anyway, you didn’t come out here to question me about my mother, I’m sure. I know you have questions for me.”
“Yes. I do,” he murmured, and shook his head, as if gathering his thoughts once more.
“But hang on a minute. First, I have one for you that I’d like you to answer honestly.”
Quinton glanced at her, his gaze wary. “Can’t make any promises.”
Of course he couldn’t, but he expected honesty from her? Sienna bit back a harsh laugh and stared ahead up the trail. The sound of rushing water hit her ears about the same time she saw the glimmer of a river.
“What kind of punishment will Warrick face for killing that shifter?”
“You want the truth? I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?” she demanded sharply, digging her heels in and coming to a stop. “I hear you’re like a god within the damn shifter community.”
“A god, hmm?” His lips quirked and he folded his arms, staring down at her analytically. “I’m no god. I’ve just been around awhile. Some of the agents look up to me, but I’m nothing to write home about.”
“Warrick considers you a damn icon.”
“Does he now? Well, maybe I am. But what I’m not is an elder. And the elders are who Warrick is going to have to face once we get this mess straightened out.”