“God fucking damnit,” Peter said just as the office door slammed shut behind me. He threw the first aid kit down on his desk. “What the fuck were you thinking? Now I have to fake stitching you up!”
“Look, boss,” I whispered back in a near hiss, despite the soundproofed glass enclosing his office, so Rebecca definitely couldn’t hear me, “I was following up on the goddamn lead. What did you want me to do?”
“I wanted you to not get fucking shot at, for one,” he said as he turned the blinds, flipping them closed so Rebecca couldn’t see us not stitching up my arm. “That way you don’t have to fucking lie to your mate.”
Like I said before, it’s really hard to kill a shifter—damn near impossible if you don’t have a silver bullet. Earlier in the truck, I’d pretty much lied to Rebecca about not getting shot. I got shot plenty times over in Afghanistan and Iraq. With the nature of Pararescue, I was dropped into hot zones to retrieve pilots and destroy downed aircrafts. And they don’t call them hot zones because the temperature is high.
But, when it had happened over there, I just told some white lies to my platoon buddies. It was blood from someone else, I’d twisted an ankle, I’d sprained my knee. I just needed to walk it off. Well, that last part wasn’t a lie; a good walk was pretty much all I really needed. Of course, if it was really bad, I needed more time or a shift into my wolf form. Either way, I’d normally be healed up by the end of the day.
I wasn't over there, though, I was here. Which meant I wasn't lying to a medic or my platoon, I was lying to my mate. And that was something else entirely.
I blinked my eyes slowly. “You're right,” I said, slowly. “No, you're right, boss.”
“I’m your alpha,” he said as he dropped into his desk chair with a grunt and a wave of his hand, “of course I'm right.”
I looked away, a little shame and redness spreading to my face. There was something about his tone. Ever since the year before, he’d been slowly losing control of his anger. In the last few months, it had escalated to the point where we’d all begun to notice it. Whatever it was, it bit hard and deep, causing me to feel like I was being scolded by my father.
Maybe Peter saw the look on my face and realized what he sounded like. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have used that tone or spoken that way.”
“No, you’re right.” I turned and looked at him. I took a deep breath before continuing. “You’re completely right. I’ve fucked this whole thing up. Not the case, but the way I’m acting and going about everything. We both know it.”
He looked at me, his eyes impassive, his jaw set. I could practically see the wheels spinning in his mind, slowly turning.
“What?” I asked.
He just shook his head. “You know what you need to do, don’t you?” he asked, pausing for a moment. “You need to tell her. This is just going to be the first lie if you don't tell her what you are. What we are.”
I sighed, sat back in the chair, and flexed my right arm a little. I’d felt awful leading Rebecca on the way I had, lying to her with my fake winces and bullshit grumbling. The wound on my bicep had healed before we even left Durango, but I sure as hell couldn’t tell her about that. I shook my head. “I hardly know her, boss. How do I just tell her about all this? About me?”
“She’s your mate, Jones. She’ll understand what you are. It’s the way things work. Have the other guys had any problems?”
“I’m not the other guys, though. I wasn’t raised by wolves or part of a pack. I don’t know how this works.”
“Neither was Murdoch. Besides, you’re a shifter, same as them. The rules don’t suddenly stop applying because you weren’t raised by a pack. You found your mate and she found you. She’ll accept you no matter what. That’s just the way of the world.”
“I don’t know, boss,” I said slowly. “I just can’t.”
“You’re going to have to eventually. You can’t just live a life like that, where you try and hide your true self from her. She’s going to see through you.”
“That’s part of what I’m worried about.”
He gave me a wry smile. “That’s what every man is always worried about. Every woman, too, I think. That the people around us will figure out that we have to put on masks, pretend we’re something we’re not. But the only way we can really get close to other people is by understanding what we’ve got inside and being true to it no matter what.”
He was right, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Part of the game is posturing, not revealing the inner details. My old CO always said if you weren’t afraid, you’d probably be dead soon. What mattered was whether or not you could function while you were afraid, or if you could keep going with the fear. Even brave men got afraid, but they kept going regardless. They continued doing what needed to be done, both for themselves and for the soldiers around them.
Peter leaned forward on his desk. “Look, Jones,” he said, adopting that fatherly tone he sometimes took with Mary, “you made it through bootcamp; you became a Pararescuer; fought through Afghanistan, Iraq, and God only knows where else. You used to run into burning buildings with nothing but a coat and some oxygen, places filled with fire, one of the only things that can actually kill us. Hell, you ran in and saved those kids all those months ago, no protection, no nothing. Sure, it was stupid to expose yourself to possible media attention, but who gives a shit? You did what was right, fear be damned.”
I nodded.
“And now you’re scared of a woman you care about? Scared she’ll—what? Laugh at you? Not accept you? You got three guys out there as proof that women can love shifters when they see them in their true form. You need to just bite the bullet and do it.”
“Know what, boss? You’re right. You’re completely right. Just as soon as this shit is over, I’ll tell her. No need to insert anymore drama into the situation.” I pointed to my bloody arm. “Especially not after this.”
He nodded, even though I knew it was completely against his gut instinct. “Moving on,” he said, changing the subject, “let’s hear this recording you managed to get.”
I pulled out my phone and brought up the recording with Reggie the Gap, passing it over to him when it was loaded. We listened in rapt silence.
“Think it’s enough?” I asked after we’d listened to it for the second time.
“As an admission of guilt?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair. “No. But the real question is: is it enough to get the charges on Zeke dropped and get him out of prison? Yeah, I think so. They may not be admitting guilt, not outright, but it’s hard to dispute that he’s assuming some responsibility for the fire. In addition to tacitly admitting to extortion and racketeering, among other things. I’ll call Peak when you leave and set up an appointment so you can meet with him tomorrow morning. Sound good?”
I nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. Think we can pull Lacy off the case, too? Probably won’t need any information on the hard drive.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I think it’s better for us to be safe rather than sorry on this one. I’d rather have overwhelming doubt on the evidence they have, along with the recording. I think we’ll just come out stronger in the long run.”
“Can’t disagree on that one,” I said. “I was a boy scout, after all. Always be prepared.”
“Over prepared,” he agreed. “No sense in leaving any loose ends, especially since that’s what got Zeke into this mess in the first place.”
“Got it.”
“Guess that’s it,” Peter said, reaching to grab the phone.
“Whoa there, boss,” I said. “You forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“You forgot why I came in here?” I pointed to my bloody shirtsleeve and bicep. “Still need a bandage.”
He just shook his head as he got up from his seat. “Just so long as you remember you’re telling Rebecca as soon as all this is over.”
A few minutes later, we’d swabbed the blood off my skin and wrapped it up so I looked part mummy.
“I’ll text you the time of your meeting,” Peter said as I stood to leave. “And don’t forget what I told you. If you don’t come clean, she’s going to feel betrayed. That’s just the way things are.”
I nodded as I pulled open the door and headed back towards the lobby. As I rounded the corner, I heard Rebecca’s chatter.
“No, that’s what I’m telling you,” she said into her phone as I came around the corner, a wide smile on her face, “Matthew got some new evidence. Turns out it was that shifty guy from Durango like we were talking about.” She paused. “No, no, we’re going to meet with the sheriff and the deputy as soon as we can, see what we can do about getting my uncle out of prison.”
She looked up at me as I stepped into the lobby. “A drink?” she asked into the phone, laughing a little as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know.”
I made a face, but just shrugged my shoulders. I wanted to tell her to stay away from him and bars for a while. It wasn’t that I disliked Derrick or thought he was going to be some kind of competition, but I needed Rebecca sober and refreshed the next morning. But it wasn’t like I owned her. And I never would.
“No, after last night, I think I’m going to stay away from alcohol for a while. It’s been a really long day. Probably just gonna grab a bite to eat somewhere before I head home for the night.” Another pause. “Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow after the meeting to let you know how it went.”
“Peter’s setting up the meeting,” I said as she ended her call. “He’ll text me to confirm the time later. You up for dinner or anything? Or calling it a night?”
“I could eat,” she said with a smile after checking the time on her phone. It was already evening, and the summer sun was setting behind the mountains. “How’s the arm?”
I touched my arm, smiling what I thought was a wan smile. “Hurts a little still,” I said, instantly feeling bad for lying, “but Peter got me stitched up. Clean shot, so I shouldn’t need antibiotics or anything.”
“Good,” she said, standing up. “Where do you want to eat?”
“I was thinking Dixie’s.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You know, there are other places in town besides Dixie’s. There’s that little Cajun place over on the other side of Main.”
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “Been a while since I had etouffee. Let me just grab my jacket and we’ll head out.”