Dex is a Human, ex-homicide detective from the Human Police Force turned rookie Defense Agent for the T.H.I.R.D.S. --a special military funded law enforcement agency. Sloane is a Therian (shifter) Defense Agent with over 10 years experience, ruing the day Dexter J. Daley walked through his door. Or rather descended upon him in a whirlwind of chaos and cheese snacks.
More on it to come soon!
Dex beamed at him. “That was good. I really liked that one. It was even better than the strawberry and white chocolate thingy with the little chocolate shavings.”
The young Therian placed his hands on the stainless steel table behind him and arched his back, his eyes on Dex’s lips. “Tell me, Agent Daley. Do you like café con leche?”
Dex’s face lit up. “I love café con leche.”
“Agent Daley,” Sloane barked, causing the two to jump.
“Crap.” Dex cleared his throat and gave the young chef an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Jordan, duty calls. Thanks so much for the free samples.”
“Any time, Agent Daley.” The Therian was practically purring.
Sloane waited, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched as Dex hurried over. As soon as they were outside the kitchen, Sloane turned to Dex in disbelief. “We’re in the middle of a case and you’re flirting?”
“I wasn’t flirting, I was eating. I’m starving. Which is your fault.”
“My fault?” Clearly he’d had a momentary lapse of judgment by thinking the two of them could get along. The urge to punch the guy was steadily rising. “How is this my fault?”
“You gave my Cheesy Doodles away!” Dex hissed.
“Jesus Christ, again with that?” Sloane tried to summon patience but instead, he kept seeing Dex’s stupid tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. He pushed that thought away, grabbed Dex’s arm, and hauled him toward the exit. “That back there had nothing to do with food, unless we count you being part of the menu. The guy was two seconds away from pouncing on you.”
“What? No way. We were talking about chocolate and café con leche.”
Sloane stopped in his tracks. “You’re not serious are you? You can’t be that oblivious.”
“To what?” Dex’s wide eyes told Sloane he most probably was. How could a guy like Dex be so clueless? The way Hudson kept trying to have eye sex with the guy, the Therian in the kitchen ready to rip off his clothes? Hell, Sloane had even caught Letty eyeing Dex’s ass on more than one occasion. Yet Dex never seemed to notice.
“To the fact that he wasn’t talking about drinks, you idiot. He wanted to be the café in your leche.”
Dex frowned, when it dawned on him. “Ohhh. I misread that.”
“I don’t…” Sloane shook his head. He didn’t even have words. “Get in the damn truck before I shoot you.” He pushed Dex from behind, guiding him into the lobby, grunting every time Dex paused to talk at him over his shoulder.
“You know, you should try Yoga. Find a way to channel all that aggression,” Dex said thoughtfully. Sloane gave him another push.
“I have found a way. It’s called shoving my foot up your ass.”
“That doesn’t sound very relaxing.”
Push. “I’m sure I’ll feel plenty relaxed afterward.”
“You got a problem.” Dex grimaced and Sloane gave another push to get him moving again.
“Yeah, and I’m looking right at it.” This situation was a heart attack waiting to happen. He just knew it. The stress of the job, now this. Yep, he was going to keel over. He could see the heading on his tombstone now: Sloane Brodie departed this world at age 37 due to massive coronary trauma as a result of idiot partner Dexter J. Daley.
“Ouch, man. That’s harsh.”
Sloane had just about reached the front door when Calvin’s voice came over his earpiece.
“Agent Brodie, we got a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Press is outside.”
“Shit.” Sloane crept up to the large glass front, grateful for the wall to ceiling venetian blinds. Careful not to jostle the thin wooden slats, he peeked outside. Damn it, there were at least three news vans that he could see. He pulled back and tapped his earpiece. “What about Cael and Rosa?”
Rosa’s concerned voice came over the line. “We’re in the truck. We didn’t see you guys so figured you’d already headed out.”
Sloane cast Dex an accusing glare. “We got momentarily held up. Dex had to take a shit.”
Dex’s jaw dropped. He made to touch his earpiece when Sloane caught his wrist, and twisted his arm behind him, making him double over.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Dex hissed, glaring up at him.
“Thank you for the disturbing visual,” Rosa grunted. “What now?”
“We’re going out the back. Have the Bearcat ready to go as soon as we get there.” He released Dex’s arm, pulled him up, and grinned at the sour expression on Dex’s face.
“That was not cool, man.”
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about wandering off. Now let’s go.”
They rushed through the lobby and reception area to the double doors on the right. Behind him Dex mimicked him, lowering his voice as he repeated Sloane’s words, adding an unintelligible rambling of grunts and growls at the end.
“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Sloane grunted, following the hallway he’d come in through earlier, to the pantry, and finally out into the hall leading to the loading dock.
“Must be the company I’ve been keeping,” Dex quipped. Sloane turned and grabbed Dex by the shoulders.
“Okay, shut up for a minute. Let’s pretend you’re a normal agent for a sec, and that you weren’t sent here to drive me out of my freaking mind. Can you do that?”
Dex pursed his lips. “I’ll have to reach really deep for that one, but I think I can manage.”
“Good. Soon as we get out there, make a B-line for the truck, and try not to shoot anyone.”
“No promises,” Dex muttered.
Copyright © 2011-2012 Charlie Cochet. All Rights Reserved.