To Have A Human (3 page)

Isaac gave Broden an odd look. “Aren’t you worried about your own boy? He’s human. You think he’s weak?”

Broden shook his head. “No. I can take care of him.”

He would do everything necessary to keep his mate protected. Humans were fragile and needed special care, but Broden figured he could protect one beautiful human.

* * * *

Carey crouched behind the low stone wall, his gun raised. Leaves rustled in the light breeze, covering the sound of anything approaching. They were out there, he just had to be patient. When Carey was young, his father taught him that when dealing with the enemy, patience was more than a virtue, sometimes it saved your life.

A slight noise had Carey lunging to the right as claws scraped the wall where he’d been standing. An eagle screech pierced the air. Spinning around, he shot the bird and laughed when a blue blot of paint splattered across one large wing.

“Gotcha,” he said in a low voice. A growl had him leaping forward.

Snap

“Oooh, vicious,” Carey taunted with glee. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close to the water.

The ten-foot freshwater crocodile growled again before crawling back into the underbrush. Light brown in color, it smoothly blended with the tall grass, all but disappearing in the shadowy water.

“You’re a cheater, Denton,” Carey called out.

Brush crackled and snapped behind him.

“Crap.”

Carey ran.

He might be able to roll out of the way of a croc, but the grizzly he heard tramping through the underbrush could accidentally crush him. Adrenaline pumped through Carey’s body as he tucked his gun in his waistband before jumping then pulling himself up onto the low-hanging branch. Carey climbed to the top, spun around, pulled out his weapon, then shot a paint pellet at the bear’s wide shoulders. He flipped off his perch and nailed the croc on the nose as the creature slid out of the greenery.

“The human wins again!” Carey shouted before dancing in a little circle like a football player who'd just made a touchdown.

The croc transformed into a black-haired, green-eyed man who stood six-foot-two in his bare feet. “I hate it when you shoot me in the nose,” Denton Stills complained, brushing at the blue paint coating his face.

“I just like to hit the biggest target,” Carey teased.

Denton scowled. “Funny.”

“I know.” Carey bowed to his friend.

“At least you can see your paint,” Harris Bender complained, pawing at his back. At six-foot-three, Harris resembled his bear form in size if not in hairiness.

“I can’t believe you’re pouting,” Carey laughed. A pouty face looked odd on the big muscular man.

The eagle swooped down and landed before Carey. In a showy flash of gold, the bird changed to a five-foot-ten man with brilliant golden brown hair and gold-brown eyes. Blue paint covered his entire arm and dripped down the side. He gave the mess a rueful look. “Good shot, Care!”

Carey grinned at his friend. Eaton Franks never held a grudge. The eagle shifter had been Carey’s friend since second grade when an arm cramp had caused the adolescent eagle to fall from the sky into Carey’s sandbox.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” Denton reluctantly agreed.

Carey relished his win as his friends pulled on their clothing. They might be shifters with enhanced abilities, but he’d been training to shoot people since the age of five when his father gave him a set of laser guns and tracked him through the forest.

Raised by a single father who lived and breathed Special Forces, Carey knew before the age of ten how to sneak up and disarm an assassin. However, in a fit of rebellion, Carey had gone into computers instead of joining any military group. That didn’t stop him from wanting to keep his skills up to date.

After they were all dressed, they piled into Denton’s jeep and headed back to the cabin. The cabin belonged to Carey’s father, but since he never stuck around for long, they could use it whenever they wanted.

Despite the fun he had with his friends, as soon as the adrenaline faded, Carey began to miss Broden. The stupid cat shifter had gotten into his head and didn’t seem willing to leave it anytime soon. How he’d gotten so infatuated with a man in one night he didn’t know, but he had to admit the glow from their one time together hadn’t faded in the thirty-six hours and ten minutes since they’d last parted. Not that he was counting.

His phone rang, pulling Carey from his happy glow of winning. He ignored his friends’ good-natured grumbles as he answered the call.

A few minutes later, he hung up.

“I’ve got an interview!” he said gleefully, waving his phone.

“Good. We need a new keyboard,” Harris said.

Carey nodded. All their extra money went to the band and to pay taxes on the house his grandmother had left him, which they all lived in. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t steal it,” Harris warned.

“Or liberate it,” Denton added.

“Or anything like that,” Eaton said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Carey grinned at his friends. “You’re all very suspicious.”

“Uh-huh,” Denton said.

“I was never convicted,” Carey reminded them.

Eaton laughed. “That’s because they lost the evidence.”

Carey shook his head. “Pesky computer files, shame how they disappear.”

The friends all exchanged looks and burst out laughing. Harris wiped his eyes. “Morons shouldn’t have left you alone with a computer.”

“Idiots thought a twelve-year-old couldn’t do anything,” Denton said with a smirk.

Carey shook his head at his friends’ amusement.

They were the best.

Bantering amongst themselves, the quartet returned to the cabin to wash up.

Thinking back over his conversation with Isaac, Carey knew this was the sort of job that would lead to a much better revenue stream than his current one. He’d love to just work and not have to worry about drumming up clients all the time. Sometimes it was more effort to find customers than to do the job for them.

Carey picked up his guitar and began to absently strum it while he thought over his options. He’d have to nail the interview. He’d do some research on the company before he went. Preparation was the key.

Carey didn’t know what to expect when he reached Spotted Cat Security, but the silvery metallic office building that looked like something out of a space ship wasn’t it. Their website hadn’t done the headquarters justice. The building covered a good corner of a downtown block. If Carey took the job, at least he wouldn’t have far to go from his house on Queen Anne. His grandmother had left him a mansion at the top of the hill with a nice plot of land, but taxes were a bitch. Even with his friends pitching in, they barely covered the tax bill.

“Wow.”

Carey’s mind automatically mapped out the entrances and exits as he walked into the building. The quickest way to make an exit was imprinted on his mind before he made it to the elevator. Following the instructions emailed to him, Carey pushed the button to the third floor offices. According to the buttons, there were fifteen floors in all. He wondered what all these people did.

The doors opened, revealing a beautiful reception area with a lot of wood and an adorable shifter girl at the reception desk. A row of office doors made a frosted glass ring along one wall. Peering around the reception area, Carey could make out a maze of desks, but no cubicle walls. So far, so good. He hated when he went places and saw a sea of cubicles.

Carey flashed his best smile.

“Can I help you?” the girl asked, her eyes brightening at the sight of Carey.

“I have an appointment with Isaac Graham.”

The receptionist tapped a few strokes on her keyboard before asking, “Carey Gale?”

“Yep, that’s me,” he agreed, leaning on the counter.

“If you’ll have a seat, I’ll tell Mr. Graham that you’re here.”

“Sure thing.” Carey sat down on the cushy chair indicated and pulled out his smart phone to entertain himself while he waited.

Within a few minutes, he’d lazily hacked through their firewalls and examined their inventory. They definitely had a good inventory of weapons and a long client list. He wondered what percentage of workers were shifters versus humans. The company was owned by shifters, but because of their sensitive work, names and pictures of the employees weren’t on their website.

“Mr. Gale?”

Carey looked up into a pair of friendly gray eyes set in a narrow face. “Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Isaac Graham.”

Carey stood up and took the hand offered. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

He noticed the shifter moderated his grip so he didn’t hurt Carey when they shook hands. Some shifters were overly cautious when dealing with humans. Carey hid his smile. Mr. Graham would be surprised by how much strength Carey had.

“Call me Isaac, please.”

Carey nodded. “Please call me Carey.”

“Now that niceties are out of the way, let me introduce you to our A-boss.”

“You can say alpha. I won’t be offended.” Carey knew some humans were freaked by the rigid social structure of shifter organizations. He certainly wasn’t one of them. How could he be when he was essentially the alpha of his own small group?

Isaac’s smile became wide. “Excellent. I heard you’ve worked with shifters before.”

“I haven’t really worked with shifters, but I live with three of them.” Carey didn’t give details. Isaac didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his personal life. A lifetime of caution kept him from saying anything more. His father had drilled into Carey’s head not to share more than minimum details with anyone.

“Good. Good.” Isaac nodded. “I just wanted to check. Some humans are uncomfortable working with my kind.”

“Some humans are idiots,” Carey said.

“True. That’s very true,” Isaac agreed. “Sadly, I can’t say there aren’t some nutty shifters out there also. I mean you have the wolves…”

Carey nodded. “At least that’s one group you can point to and fairly assess they’re all bonkers.”

“Agreed,” Isaac said.

Isaac escorted Carey down a white-painted hall decorated with generic office artwork. Carey wondered where a person went to buy the same crappy stuff that went on cheap hotel walls, but then Harris painted most of his art. Not everyone was lucky enough to have a resident artist.

When they reached the last door, Isaac knocked twice and waited.

“Enter,” a deep voice called from inside.

Carey’s stomach did a nervous flip. That voice sounded awfully familiar. When Isaac opened the door and waved Carey inside, his suspicions were confirmed.

“You!” he exclaimed. Paranoia struck. Had their meeting the other night been coincidental after all or had Broden been hunting him and horny, stupid Carey had fallen for the act?

“You left me!” Broden stood up and marched over to Carey.

“It was a one night thing,” Carey defended himself. Broden’s anger was oddly reassuring. Maybe it hadn’t been a setup. Maybe the gorgeous shifter had actually liked him. “And my shoulder still fucking hurts.”

He wouldn’t let Broden get away with not taking responsibility for his painful bite since the damn thing stung whenever he moved his right side or took a shower or even breathed wrong.

“Let me see.” Broden’s smug expression wasn’t reassuring. Carey resisted the urge to hit him. It probably was the wrong move if he truly wanted a job there.

Before Carey could respond, Broden ripped open Carey’s dress shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere.

“Shit! I liked that shirt,” Carey complained. It had been his favorite, too—polished cotton in a nice blue. Eaton was going to throw a fit. He’d bought the shirt for Carey for Christmas a few years ago, telling him he needed at least one dress shirt to be civilized. Apparently Broden didn’t get the how-to-be-a-civilized-person memo. Maybe it was lost in his inbox along with the don’t-molest-potential-employees note.

“Beautiful.” Broden brushed a finger across Carey’s wound. Carey whimpered as a jolt of desire slammed through his body at Broden’s touch. Why he was so completely enthralled with this one man, Carey didn’t know, but the slightest brush of skin between Broden and him brought sparks of need zapping up and down his spine.

“I had a different word for it. Besides it sort of destroys my dating potential.” He struggled to sound sarcastic when he was actually turned on.

“It proves you’re mine and you have no more dating potential,” Broden snarled. The tip of fangs appeared through his lips. “You’re done seeing other men
—
or women, too, if you swing both ways.”

Carey opened his mouth to tell the bossy shifter what he thought of the man’s opinion when Isaac intervened.

“I take it I should interview him then?” Isaac asked.

Carey and Broden turned to face him.

“For the job? You know, ask questions that don’t involve naked couch time?” Isaac’s raised eyebrows showed he thought he was hysterical.

“I’ll interview Carey on my own,” Broden said in a rough tone. He put a hand on Carey’s shoulder, his thumb sliding across a patch of bare skin and sending a shiver through Carey’s body. Unable to resist, Carey jabbed Broden in the side with his finger, pleased when he got a grunt. The shifter was way too sure of himself, thinking he could manipulate Carey into doing what he wanted.