Flint stepped down from the sleek aircraft into the dark Scottish night, his luggage waiting for him and also a man, or rather a Wolf. His scent giving away his species, however, his hulking muscles and the way he held himself would just as surely have alerted him to what he was.

“I’m Talon, Mister Quinn sent me to pick you up and I’ll be your driver for your visit Mister . . .”

“Flint, just call me Flint.” He’d gone by that one name for so long he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been called anything else and that suited him just fine. Talon wasn’t surprised, or if he was he hid it well, striding forward to pick up his luggage.

“If you’ll follow me, our ride is this way.”

“Sure.” Flint’s eyes took in everything about the man. The way he carried himself, how well he thought he’d fare if they got into any kind of situation and what he saw satisfied him. He was large, obviously, but he was light on his feet and his eyes scanned the area, even though they were in a “safe” zone. That wasn’t all, the man was packing . . . and it appeared to be the same weapons that Flint favored: blades. He could make out the outlines of them beneath Talon’s well-cut suit, so far he’d counted five, but he was certain there were more. Flint had seven on him at present, everything from simple stainless-steel throwing knives around his ankles, a couple of push knives, two Fairbairn-Sykes on his belt and his set of jeweled knives in hand-made leather sheaths that he wore, similar to ones that held guns.

Flint went nowhere without his beloved blades.

“Excuse me, Talon, but where are we going?” Flint looked around when he realized there were no vehicles anywhere nearby.

“It’ll only be a moment, Flint.” Talon’s brogue wasn’t too thick and Flint could understand him well enough but he didn’t understand where they were going and that made him nervous.

He stopped, refusing to move. “I asked where we were going.”

“Och, sorry, I should’ve mentioned our mode of transport . . . it’s not a car. Mister Quinn has sent his helicopter to fetch you. It’s much faster than trying to get through rush hour traffic. Edinburgh at this time is, well, it can be a bitch. It would take us a good while to reach his estate but this way we’ll be home in less than half an hour, but we need to walk a little bit to get to where they are, Flint. They’re separate from the planes.”

“Helicopter.” Flint snorted. “Of course he has.”

He knew there was some rivalry between Quinn and Victor and this was obviously his attempt at showing off in some manner. Hell, if it was then he was way off the mark. Flint’s lips edged up into a half smile as Talon turned back to him. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” He flashed him a smile. “That’s very generous of Mister Alexander.”

His comment seemed to throw the Wolf, his dark brown eyes widening before scrutinizing him as if he saw through his sarcasm. Talon’s muscles tensing, the skin between his eyebrows puckering as he frowned and then he seemed to remember . . . he was the “help” and Flint was a guest. Flint watched avidly as the shifter fought to control himself for long seconds before he growled. “I suppose.”

Flint liked him. He’d seen the moment Talon had been ready to argue but he’d fought against it and he didn’t think it was because he was ready to jump to Quinn’s defense over something so mundane. No, it was because he saw right through Flint, and that was what he liked about the Wolf. “I was being sarcastic . . . if you don’t know it, my boss and yours, well, they’re like a couple of kids in the school yard. Always trying to best one another. The helicopter, that’s Quinn trying to get one up on Victor, but I’ve got to say, it’s a massive fail. Victor uses them all the time and I fucking hate them and I try to get out of going in the damn things whenever I can.”

Talon visibly relaxed, his mouth widening into a smile, showing his teeth . . . teeth worthy of any Wolf and that would transform into a maw full of fangs that could tear huge beasts apart. Flint knew he’d want him at his side for whatever was coming his way on this trip and having him on his side was the best way to start. A moment later a loud rumble started in Talon’s massive chest before erupting from his throat, laughter filling the air around them. His body shaking and Flint couldn’t help but join in . . . it was contagious. It was several moments before they stopped, Flint closing the distance between them, slapping Talon’s shoulder. “I think we’re gonna get on all right, Talon.”

“Aye, I think we will, Yank. And just between you and me . . . I hate ‘em too. My Wolf howls every time I’m in one of them.”

“I know what you mean.” Flint shivered theatrically. “I’m just glad the journey is going to be over fast, small mercies and all that.”

“Aye.” Talon turned. “Sooner we get it over with.”

“Yeah.” Flint fell into step beside him. “Now, can I bend your ear about a club our housekeeper told me about? She’s Fae and said I’ve got to check it out? And I’ve got to go to the castle too, that’s a must.”

“A club? Heck, there’s tons in Edinburgh but not many suitable for, well, us.”

“This one is, or so she says.” Flint leaned in toward him, conspiratorially. “It’s called Mystique.”

Talon huffed out a long breath, his body stiffening, his scent changing to one that alerted Flint and telling him the shifter wasn’t happy even before he opened his mouth. “That’s a place you’ve got to be careful of. The Directive is on bloody speed-dial and if you’re caught doing anything, and I mean anything out of order in there, well, you’ll end up in one of their cells before you can blink.”

Flint wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders, lowering his voice. “I don’t intend to be caught, Talon. Never have been and never will be. All I need from you is to get me there and wait outside.”

Talon sighed, obviously wary, every cell in his body saying so. “You need to be careful, Flint. If anything happens to you it’s not just your hide on the line . . . Mister Alexander will take it out on me if you get yourself into trouble. He gave me strict instructions to look after you and one of those was to keep you out of any, and I quote, “embarrassing situations.” And, hey, I like this job, so don’t muck it up for me, because, Flint, I get the feeling you’re the kind of guy who can get himself into embarrassing situations.”

He couldn’t fault the man for looking out for his job, but then again, he wasn’t about to stop from going after whatever it was that he’d felt earlier. Nothing would stop him, and nobody, including Quinn Alexander, or Talon, but he’d do his best to keep the shifter out of any fallout his actions accrued. “I’ll do my best, that’s all I can say. I’d rather not lie to you, Talon. What’s the use of me spouting bullshit?”

Rounding the corner of a building a helicopter came into view, sitting on the tarmac with a pilot walking around outside. Shit. It was even smaller than the ones that Victor used and had Flint’s insides cramping uneasily. He refused to show anything outwardly but nervous energy started to settle deep inside him at the thought of being stuck inside such a small craft while speeding through the air. Talon’s massive paw of a hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing hard. “First, thanks for the honesty, second, he’s a bloody good pilot, so don’t worry. He’ll get us there in no time at all. Come on . . . let’s get this over with. My Wolf is already howling and I’ll want a large drink when we get home.”

“I’ll join you.” Flint sighed, following behind Talon toward the ‘copter. “Just so you know, when I’m going home . . . you’re driving me to the airport.”

“Done,” Talon agreed as the pilot got in and started the engine, the rotors starting to whirl around faster and faster.

“Shit,” Flint swore as Talon opened the door and ushered him inside.