“Thank you for volunteering to come in,” she said, opening a faded folder, ringed with coffee stains. Some loose papers fell out and she quickly tucked them in, but not before I saw my picture. The file they had on me was thick—thicker than I’d expected, thicker than I liked—and from the state of the disarrayed pages, someone had obviously been studying it. Maybe they didn’t need to ask me about my supernatural status because they already knew. Had I been ignorant to think I got away with not fully disclosing?
Booth trained her attention on me as she waited for my response. I dragged my gaze away from the file and brought it back to her face. “Like I said on the phone—I didn’t know Landen went rogue and because he was my only contact to the SRD, there was no way for me to find out.”
“So you say.” Her tone was clipped.
I was about to launch into another defence when a knock on the door interrupted us. Booth’s expression darkened.
“Wait here,” Booth said before turning away from me. When she stepped out of the room, I got a glimpse of a young man in a dark gray business suit. His attire looked expensive and well above my pay grade. The low murmur of their voices leaked into the room. Good sound proofing. Normally I would have been able to catch their entire conversation. Booth’s voice raised a bit, edged in anger.
The door swung open and Agent Booth stalked back in. She put her hands on her hips and glared at me as if all her problems in the world were my fault. The man who’d interrupted us walked in after her. He looked excited and eager. Not good.
“Agent McNeilly, this is my associate Agent Tucker. He will conduct the rest of your interview.” She waved her hand absently at the man behind her and after giving me another dark look, marched out of the room. Tucker. The name sounded familiar.
“Ms. McNeilly.” The man addressed me and held out his hand. I stared at it, distrusting him immediately. Tucker was a norm. His frail human scent coiled around me, stirring the predatory instincts of my animals. My falcon wanted to peck out his eyes, which startled me. She was the most passive of my feras. His expensive cologne tickled the inside of my nose.
“Have I been stripped of my position without due process?” I asked. His hand dropped and he frowned in confusion. “Am I no longer an agent?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said and sat down. He tugged at his tie and cleared his throat. “As far as the SRD is concerned you were stripped of your position two years ago when you went rogue.”
“I didn’t go rogue,” I seethed. “Landen did.”
Tucker shrugged. “You got proof?”
My falcon might have her way if the man continued like this. “Your stupid protocols put me in a vulnerable position. It’s not my fault you saddled me with a bad handler and he took advantage of the situation.”
“If you had stopped to think and question your targets, you might not be in this situation.”
Struck dumb by shock, I stared at him. A sudden coldness hit my core. After a moment, I collected my thoughts. “You’re joking, right? Part of my job description is not to ask questions.”
Agent Tucker blinked in response. I took his silence as an opportunity to examine him further. Nothing remarkable about his appearance. Everything average—dull hazel eyes, not too tall, not too short, boring brown hair, and clear skin. His shiny Rolex watch glinted in the harsh lighting.
“Did Daddy not make you go through regular training when he handed you this job?” I asked, taking a guess. It would explain Booth’s agitation. She looked like a woman who clawed her way to the top. This man didn’t have the same look. His posturing reeked of entitlement and he looked…soft.
A red blush travelled up his cheeks. “Just because my father is the director of the SRD, doesn’t mean I didn’t earn my position.”
Bingo. I relaxed back in my seat, savoring the scent of his lie. “Of course not.”
A knock interrupted whatever he planned to say next and saved him from further embarrassment.
What is this? A fucking tea party?
Tucker got up and opened the door to let in another man. For some reason, I liked this one on sight. He was old. Wrinkles creased his face, showing he smiled more than he frowned. He nodded at me before taking a seat beside the lie detector contraption.
“Agent O’Donnell will set up the test and then we’ll see whether you’re telling the truth.” Tucker jutted his chin out and puffed up his chest before stalking out of the room.
“Don’t let him get to you,” the old man said. His voice was crisp and clear, sounding like it belonged to a much younger man. When the scent of a coyote reached me, I smiled. O’Donnell was a Shifter.