Prickly By Nature (16 page)

Dylan should have listened to his own advice and gotten some rest as well, but he was too wired. Even after the time in New Orleans, the disaster of a family reunion, and the hella long flight, Dylan couldn’t seem to shut his mind off. Which was why he was staring at the ceiling when his phone rang.

Reaching blindly for it on the nightstand, he automatically tapped the screen without checking it. “Hello?”

“Green?”

In an instant Dylan was alert and sitting up. Avery shifted next to him. Detective Wallace, the shifter detective who’d been at the warehouse the night they’d gone to find Avery, had transferred to Human Trafficking. They hadn’t heard much from him since. Which was why the hair on the back of Dylan’s neck stood on end.

“What’s up, Wallace? Been a while,” Dylan said, his voice flat, unemotional.

“Not much, man.” He paused. Dylan could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Listen, there’s a new guy leading the Trafficking Task Force.”

“Oh yeah?” Dylan interrupted, careful not to wake Avery while doing his best to sound interested. He was, but he had a strange feeling about Wallace’s out-of-the-blue call. “He any good?”

“Good as they get. Came from Seattle,” he replied quickly. “He… uh… he wants to talk to you and Avery. Avery mostly.”

And there it was. Dylan grunted and Avery moved restlessly against him. Dylan placed a hand on his back until Avery stilled beneath his touch. “Hold on,” he whispered into the phone. Dylan got out of bed and padded quietly across the hardwood and out of the room. After closing the bedroom door so he wouldn’t wake Avery, Dylan walked into the kitchen. “What do you mean the new guy wants to speak with Avery? How does he even know Avery was there?” Dylan bit out. After what happened at the warehouse, the only people who knew about Avery’s presence there were the alpha and his circle and Wallace and his former partner.

Wallace gave a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I know,” he said finally. “And I know what you’re thinking, but this goes higher than me.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes at the coffeemaker like it morally offended him. It wasn’t the device’s fault. “Don’t fuck with me, Detective,” he growled and squeezed the phone so tight the plastic popped in his ear. “It was you, me, and Avery. We aren’t talking—”

“You’re wrong. We’re not the only ones who know. Fuck you, Green. Do you know what I’ve risked protecting your precious boyfriend?”

“Mate,” Dylan snapped and spun around pacing the cool tile floor.

“What the hell ever,” Wallace muttered. “As if that matters one fuck to me. My career is on the line.”

“I doubt that.” Dylan halted, lips pursed. “Your pampered ass just got a promotion, yeah? Doesn’t sound like you’re waiting for your pink slip to me. And need I remind you that me and Avery skipping out that day was your idea. If you’re feeling guilty about it now, that’s not my problem. But there is nothing—and I do mean nothing—that Avery could have added or will be able to add to your case. He was taken, same as those kids. The only difference is he could identify and name at least two of your suspects.”

“And now one of them is in protective custody and the other is dead.”

“You think Avery has something to do with it?” Dylan narrowed his eyes. “You guys are all the same. Avery was right. But this is different, isn’t it? At least Melnyk and Harris didn’t try to lure Avery into trusting them. They were assholes to begin with. Fuck if you’re going to blame any of this shit on my mate. You want Avery? You’re gonna have to go through me.”

“Jesus Christ, Green, when did you get so damn dramatic? Ribeiro doesn’t think Avery had anything to do with this crap. Fuck.”

Dylan’s chest heaved like he’d run a race, burning with the tightness of each breath. He leaned against the counter by the coffeepot. He needed to get a grip. Avery was here. He was safe and that was what mattered.

“Man, look,” Wallace continued, “when Ribeiro got the transfer here, he met with the alpha. He’s pack—I may not have mentioned that in the midst of your temper tantrum. Anyway, Odell told the guy everything, choosing not to exclude Avery’s unapproved investigation and his abduction, as well as my part in helping you guys out. Hell of a lot of good it did me. Ribeiro chewed my ass raw. I’m lucky to still have a job.”

Dylan listened, his anger shifting directions. His respect for the alpha was an ingrained response, something he’d learned early on. He followed pack law without question and supported the leadership, even though it included his own sometimes shady, all-the-time ruthless father. Dylan squeezed the bridge of his nose.
Son of a bitch.
Things with Odell and his father had been too quiet, too easy lately. He should have known this was coming. If not this, then something.

“Okay,” Dylan said finally. “Yeah. What now? What does this guy want?”

“Ribeiro. That’s his name. And he’s a good man and great detective from what I can see. He just wants to talk to Avery—off the record. A victim’s memory is better directly after an incident.” He got quieter, more imploring. “That doesn’t mean things haven’t come to him in the time that’s passed. We just want to pick Avery’s brain. Maybe he has a fresh perspective. If any of those girls are out there, we want to bring them home.”

“So you want his help?” Dylan wasn’t fooled into thinking Wallace and this Ribeiro character thought Avery was their missing puzzle piece.

His question was met with silence, which told Dylan that help was not what they were looking for at all. More likely an interrogation accompanied with a warning.

Dylan let out a sigh. It wasn’t his place to make the decision for Avery. “I’ll talk to him,” he told the detective. “I won’t promise anything, because I don’t like this, and I’m not sure that I trust you, but I’ll let you know.”

“Sure. You have my number still, right?”

Dylan grunted a yes and hung up the phone at the same time Avery shuffled into the kitchen scratching his belly. His sleep-rumpled hair was pointing in every direction, cheeks flushed pink, eyes glazed and dreamy. Dylan grinned at the picture of adorableness he made. He wondered if he could talk his mate back into bed for a lazy cuddle. Probably not.

Avery yawned so big his jaw popped, then met Dylan’s eyes and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Squinting, Dylan looked down at himself, then back to Avery. “What?”

“I can feel it.” Avery rubbed at his chest, a grimace set into his features. “Now tell me.”

With a sigh, Dylan gave a look of yearning to the coffeepot. It was just after three in the afternoon, but damn, he was so tired. Resigned to the fact that telling Avery was more important than his caffeine intake, Dylan began talking. By the time he finished, all remnants of sleep had left Avery and he was on the move.

“I need to go. Need to get downtown.” He threw the words over his shoulder in his attempt to get out of the kitchen. Dylan pushed himself off the counter and snagged Avery around the waist before he got away.

“What for?”

Avery pushed against his hold. “Let me go, Dylan. I have to find Joel before we talk to this detective guy. I need to know what he knows.”

Dylan thought about it, not releasing Avery. He shook his head even though Avery couldn’t see. “No,” he told him. “Not a good idea.”

Avery stilled, twisting his head awkwardly to look back at him. “What do you mean ‘not a good idea’? Dylan, this is the best lead I’ve had since he told me about the human trafficking thing in the first place. This guy knows something and he hasn’t been talking, but he’s going to talk now—I just know it—and I’m going to be there when he does. Now let me go.”

Dylan released him but followed to the bedroom where his mate was flinging clothes from the closet. “Av, listen to me. This detective is pack. He’s gonna know if you’re holding anything back or lying to him. He’ll scent it.” When Avery stopped his frantic movement, Dylan went to him. He took him by the shoulder and locked his eyes with hazel ones. “Come on, babe. I’m not telling you to lie, but if you don’t want him to know about this guy, wait until after you meet with him. This is too important—to you and to Lacey. I don’t want you stuck in a situation where you end up in trouble for withholding evidence.”

“Even if he knew, he couldn’t prove it.”

“For me. Do it for me.” It was a dirty trick but Dylan had to try something. “He might not be able to prove anything, but we don’t know if he’s as dirty as Melnyk either.”

At least Avery looked like he was thinking about it. “But remember when you said all cops weren’t like them?”

Dylan shrugged. He’d said it and he’d meant it. He didn’t think this Ribeiro guy was going to turn out to be crooked, but he didn’t know either. And he’d use anything in his arsenal to get Avery to have a little bit of caution with this. “We don’t know, though. Wouldn’t it be better to meet the wolf in his den to sniff him out? Besides, what are you going to do—chase your guy down at work? Didn’t he warn you not to bother him there? Do you really think he’d be willing to spill all his secrets to you if you showed up unexpectedly? Think, Av. We’ve got to be rational about this.”

Avery stared at him with a pensive look in his eye, chewing his bottom lip, then nodded. “Okay. Yeah,” he relented at last. “But we do it today. When we’re done, I’ll e-mail Joel to set up a meeting. I told him I’d contact him and make plans to meet up when we got back. Who knows if he’s still willing to talk?”

Placing a quick kiss on his lips, Dylan answered, “Yes. Let’s get ready, and we’ll call Wallace on the way.”

His wobbly smile wasn’t reassuring, but Dylan was still proud. He knew Avery. Once he got over the frustration of having to wait even longer to hunt down the waiter, he’d show this new detective how prickly a hedgehog shifter could be. Dylan kind of looked forward to it.

“WE’RE HERE
to see Detective Ribeiro,” Avery announced in a sharp, cold tone after marching right up to the reception window. Dylan smiled at the prickly demeanor his mate could call on when needed. It was rare when Avery focused it in Dylan’s direction anymore. Thank goodness.

An aging, redheaded officer eyed him skeptically. “Take a seat.” She pointed to the chairs lining the waiting area, her voice unaffected and unimpressed as she looked away from them to continue whatever task she’d been working on before they’d walked up. Like she’d seen and heard it all before.

It turned out Wallace and Ribeiro had been waiting for their call and were happy to make time for them whenever convenient. Wallace’s words, not Dylan’s. The sooner the better. So less than an hour after his conversation with Avery, Dylan was waiting in the Portland Police Bureau’s Central Precinct where the Human Trafficking Task Force was based.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long. Wallace strolled into the corridor. Dylan hadn’t seen him in months. His brown hair was longer and he had a mustache now, but it wasn’t difficult to recognize the wolf shifter.

“Avery.” He nodded. “Green.”

Dylan shook his head. The man never used his first name. Dylan was beginning to wonder if Patrick Wallace even knew Dylan’s name. Without another word, they followed him into the depths of the building, weaving through desks in a large, open room Dylan assumed was the bull pen—or whatever they called it—down a hallway lined with doors and the occasional two-way mirror, and finally into an office near the end.

The door clicked behind them, and Dylan turned to find Wallace hadn’t followed them. A man sat behind a small industrial-framed desk, a thick ebony brow arched at Dylan. A hank of inky black hair was swept off his face and styled as if he’d simply run his fingers through it. His light bronze skin was framed by neatly manicured thick stubble that ran the length of his jawline. Penetrating amber eyes focused on Dylan, and the man’s nostrils flared slightly, scenting them. Dylan could only guess what for.

“Gentlemen,” he said, a faint accent floating beneath the word, but Dylan couldn’t place it. “Please have a seat. Thank you for coming. I am Detective Heath Ribeiro.”

Avery sat first, Dylan following. Still Avery didn’t speak. Though Dylan knew it was out of distrust more than feeling intimidated.

“Last year, on November twenty-first,” Ribeiro began, opening one of the several manila file folders on his otherwise cleared desk, “officers responded to a shots fired call at Masterson Manufacturing on Northwest Front Avenue at 10:18 p.m.” When he looked up, Ribeiro’s gaze landed on Avery, and he folded his hands in front of him over the files. “Mr. Babineaux, care to explain to me how you became involved in all of this and why exactly, when I search the records of that night, you are not mentioned, not even once—by name at least.”

And he wouldn’t be. Wallace had made sure to clear the place of all traces of Avery before the rest of the department showed up. The only evidence Wallace was unable to get rid of were the reports by a few of the kidnapped girls who’d said they’d remembered seeing a blond male, but they knew very little about him and had trouble describing him.

Avery crossed his arms in front of him and cocked his head to the side. Ribeiro stared back at him. Dylan held back a smirk threatening to break free. Damn, his mate could be a stubborn little shit. Dylan definitely preferred to witness the attitude when it wasn’t directed at him.

It may have been funny, but it was getting them nowhere. The long way. Sliding his hand up Avery’s arm and to his neck, Dylan gave him a squeeze. Immediately, tension began draining from Avery’s shoulders; he took a deep breath and relaxed back into the chair.

“I was there,” he said, his voice strong and certain. “You already know that because Alpha Odell told you.”

Ribeiro nodded. “First tell me how you came to be involved with the case in the first place. From what I understand, you went to see Alpha Odell several weeks before your abduction.”

Dylan felt Avery tense beside him.

“He told you that?” Avery asked. Dylan didn’t miss the hint of betrayal in his voice.

The detective nodded.

“Of course he did.” Avery huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. At the time I was working for the pack, delivering meals and such.”