This time, though, Jed just gave a faint snort, ducking down to tie his shoes. "We ready?"

Redford was still holding his nicer clothes in his hands. "Um. Give me a second." He closed the bathroom door behind himself as he hid from sight, and got changed quickly. A glance in the mirror revealed that he looked, as usual, completely out of place in more formal clothing. But it would have to do.

When he emerged, he instinctively looked over at Jed for confirmation on his outfit choice. Despite Jed being strangely quiet and despite the strain between them, Redford still caught that familiar flare of heat in Jed's eyes. The corner of Jed's lip barely curved upward, but he nodded, hesitantly meeting Redford's gaze.

It made Redford want to call the whole investigation off so he and Jed could get some alone time together. Surely if they just talked about this, then they could figure it out. Redford could promise he would get some more help for his instincts so Jed didn't have to be wary of him. He'd go see Dr. Alona every day, if Jed wanted.

But time was of the essence here. There were hunters gathering around the pack, and they needed to find who was giving them orders. If Redford called time-out to sit down and talk to Jed, that was another few hours more that the pack was in danger.

"Ready," Redford said.

Randall had been fussing with the books, standing closer to Victor and asking his advice on various things that didn't seem entirely relevant to what they were doing now. Like how he'd categorize some of the research and if he preferred footnotes or references on the back page. "Hm?" He looked over to find both Jed and Redford standing at the door, waiting. Knievel wound her way around their legs, chirping at them before making a beeline toward Victor. "Oh, right. Yes, I, um, I'm ready as well."

"Let's head out, then." Jed led the way to the van, Randall's limp not preventing him from keeping up. The van looked beaten up, and that was about the kindest thing Redford could say about it. He hadn't noticed yesterday, but there were still chips of burnt wood stuck in the windshield wipers, heavy dents along the side where branches had hit. As long as it still ran, though, it didn't matter if it looked pretty. That was what Jed had always told him.

They piled in, and Jed pulled out onto the dirt trail. There were wolves running alongside them for a few moments before they vanished off into the woods. A few turns later, they pa.s.sed the gate, and then it was like there wasn't anything out there but trees and silence. It took them a while to even hit the main road, though Redford was grateful when they got back onto pavement. It'd been so long, it felt, since he'd ridden in the car on anything but overly b.u.mpy rough trails that driving down the highway was like being on a cushion of air.

Over the next two hours, Redford contemplated turning the radio on several times, but they were so far out of major civilization that the only two stations available were a talk show and a country music station. Redford quite liked country music, but Jed hated it.

About halfway into the drive, Jed had to stop for gas. He didn't ask either Redford or Randall if they wanted anything when he got out of the van, but when he came back he had a plastic bag. For Randall he'd purchased a gla.s.s bottle of iced tea on the basis that Randall clearly liked British things-Randall had given Jed a look, needless to say. And for Redford he'd bought Pixy Stix.

Even when things were tense between them, Jed still brought him his favorite gas station snack. This time Redford didn't feel that same relief and hope in him, not after an hour of sitting in tense silence. He was already exhausted from his thoughts running around in circles, desperately trying to figure out the situation and ways to solve it.

After eating one of the Pixy Stix and getting a blue tongue, though, he did lean over and lightly press a kiss to the corner of Jed's lips. It was a rule in their household, although the rule-and Jed-usually tended to demand much more intense kissing.

This time, however, Jed didn't immediately haul Redford back for something more. He did, though, gently take Redford's hand, bringing it up to kiss his palm so lightly it was almost no contact at all.

The next hour of the drive pa.s.sed with less mental exhaustion for Redford as he tried to get his mind on track. They were going to talk to the man who was manufacturing silver bullets for these hunters. He couldn't afford to be distracted. And more than anything, he couldn't afford a repeat of yesterday, so he had to keep his instincts locked up tight.

He wished he'd had time to call Dr. Alona. He wished he'd thought of calling him earlier. Even if the man would just sit and quietly listen, he always seemed so calm. Redford could do with a little bit of calm right then.

When they pulled up in front of a tall, bland office building, Jed didn't immediately get out of the car. He peered up at it through the windshield, fingers absently drumming against the wheel in a nervous rhythm.

Randall had spent most of the drive with his nose buried in a book. He marked his page and stretched, looking around them curiously. "Are we going to go in?" he asked. "Or just sit out here and think real hard at him."

"I'm formulating a plan," Jed growled.

"Nothing like thinking ahead." Randall sat back in his seat, idly fiddling with his tie. "I don't suppose you could just call and make an appointment."

"Doesn't work like that." A few more long moments of quiet stretched over them, Jed muttering under his breath, lip caught between his teeth as he thought. Finally, though, he nodded sharply and opened the door. "Okay, kids. Everyone in the pool."

Jed had taught Redford a few things about body language. He straightened his shoulders, tipped his chin a bit higher, and did his best to look like he truly belonged in the clothes he was wearing. He wished he'd put on a tie; everybody looked respectable in ties.

The interior of the building was just as bland as the exterior. The lobby was decorated in whites and grays, chrome against marble, but it looked cheap, as if whoever decorated it had been trying to make it look like the home of a millionaire with a quarter of the budget. Jed went straight to the receptionist, a woman who looked exactly like the decoration-tastefully made up, but her earrings weren't real silver, and her scarf was trying to be silk but clearly failing.

Redford took a deep breath. Showtime.

"We're here to see Buck Cambridge," he said to her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Redford saw Jed giving him a questioning look, silently asking him how he'd figured it out. Redford waited until the secretary was looking away and tapped his nose. Jed's lips quirked, and he ducked his head, but Redford didn't miss the look of pride that had broken through his indifferent work expression.

"Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist's voice was bored, and she hardly seemed impressed with any of them, her gaze on her computer.

Randall gave the woman a slight, apologetic smile, rolling his eyes as if he was just so very over everything that was going on. "It's a last minute thing," he explained, sighing. "I am so sorry. I know he's probably booked, but is there any way?"

The receptionist softened, just slightly. She clearly didn't like the look of Jed, and Redford was getting the same suspicious glance, but Randall looked almost boring, completely harmless with his gla.s.ses pushed up and his bow tie. "He's got a small window, but...." She hesitated.

"Could you tell him Jed Walker's here?" Randall asked with another smile. "I would really appreciate it."

The name would definitely get Buck's attention, although Redford hated the very idea of using that ploy. The first time they'd met Buck at a gun show, Buck had pawed at Jed like he'd been contemplating dragging him around the back of the stall for a quickie. And Jed hadn't entirely been against the idea, either. That had been before Jed and Redford's relationship had been solid, but Redford still hated the memory.

The woman sighed at them, lips pressed tight together, but apparently Randall had thawed her enough that she turned to the phone and punched in an extension. "Melody? I have a Mr. Jed Walker and company here for him." A long moment of silence and then the receptionist nodded, eyebrows rising slightly. "Okay. I'll send them up." She hung up the receiver and gestured toward the elevators. "Third floor. He's waiting for you."

Jed muttered, "I'll bet he is," under his breath.

Randall stepped in with a quick smile, nodding and cutting Jed off. "Thank you very much." Redford was glad for his tact. He wasn't feeling very gracious himself, not with the thought of seeing Buck and Jed together in the same place again.

The elevator was playing some kind of cla.s.sical music as they stepped in. Redford wrinkled his nose and traded a glance with Randall. The smell that had been all over the box of bullets was stronger here. It was even worse on the third floor. It wasn't an offensive smell; it was just odd for a box and now this building to smell like a cow. Randall actually coughed, lightly pressing his sleeve to his nose, like he was offended by the stench but too polite to point it out.

Buck's office was at the far end of the third floor hallway. They pa.s.sed a few other closed doors, each with their own nameplates. Redford still hadn't managed to figure out what this building was even for-he hadn't seen a company name outside, and there were no immediate clues inside.

"What do you think he does here?" he said lowly to Jed.

"He fixes things," Jed said quietly. "He makes bad situations go away."

"By hiring people like you?" Randall asked.

Jed's jaw tightened, his eyes darting over to Redford. "Yeah," he sighed. "By hiring people just like me."

They reached the door. Redford had a brief vision of putting his fist through the gla.s.s. It would certainly be satisfying to ruin something of Buck's. Instead, he knocked as politely as he could. There was no sense starting the meeting off with carnage.

"Come in." The voice sounded the same as Redford remembered, and when he opened the door, Buck was sitting behind an expansive desk, raising his gaze from his monitors to the three of them. He brightened when he saw Jed, immediately standing up to greet them. His suit was ill-fitting, the jacket straining to fit around the bulk of him. "Jed!"

"Buck." Jed extended a hand to have it engulfed in both of Buck's. "Thanks for seeing me. I know it's sudden."

"Nonsense." Redford and Randall might not have even been there for all the attention Buck was paying them. "I always have time for you, Jed, you know that." Buck still hadn't let go of Jed's hand. He was beaming at him as if a particularly fat fly had wandered into his web. "Sit, sit, please. What can I do for you?"

Redford drew in a deep breath, reminding himself that they needed information, not for him to break Buck's computers. They hadn't talked about their strategy, but Redford knew what the right play would be here. People like Buck liked to feel in control. They liked to know that people needed them and their help.

So, he'd start with that.

"We need your help, Mr. Cambridge," Redford said. From the way Buck looked at him, the man clearly didn't recognize him, which worked for Redford. "We found this bullet. From the etching on the bottom we can tell that it's yours, but we're trying to track down the people that are using them."

He withdrew the silver bullet he'd stashed in his pocket and handed it over the desk to Buck. It looked tiny in Buck's grip, so he obviously wasn't crafting them with his own hands. He wouldn't have the dexterity to do so.

"I know how much you like your custom-made toys." Jed's voice was a low rumble, shoulders held in a tense line. Where Randall and Redford had sat in the chairs on the other side of a low table, Jed had been drawn in next to Buck on a couch. Buck's hand rested on Jed's leg, squeezing lightly as Buck examined the bullet.

"I bet you do," Buck hummed, giving Jed a look. "You quite enjoyed my natural accoutrements as well, as I recall."

Redford struggled not to growl at the man, turning the very start of the sound into a cough. "Sorry," he mumbled, waving at Buck to continue. Randall took Redford's hand, holding on to him. Redford wasn't sure if that was weird or really nice, considering that Randall's strong grip was a solid reminder to not go wolf and rip Buck's throat out.

"These yours or not, Buck?" Jed's voice didn't hold any of the lasciviousness or fondness he'd had last time they'd encountered Buck. "And don't bulls.h.i.t me. If you remember my preferred positions, then you sure as h.e.l.l remember what I did to Johnny. I'm not a fan of liars."

The threat was there under Jed's bland expression, but Buck just laughed. "Hands and knees, with me buried inside of you," he murmured with a wink. "Oh, yes, I recall all of that very clearly."

"The bullet, Buck," Jed prompted.

"You are so much less fun now, Walker," Buck grumped. "Last time you didn't mind mixing business with pleasure."

"Yeah, well, this time I'm not under the impression that getting f.u.c.ked by you would be pleasurable," Jed all but growled. "d.a.m.n it, Buck, stop jerking me around. You're not as good at it as you think."

Redford's eyebrows shot up in surprise. If he took away their current worries and tension, he would swear by his and Jed's relationship. They were the most steady, most reliable thing he'd ever had in his life. However, Jed still casually flirted with other men. Redford knew him well enough to know it wasn't completely serious, but the instinctive reaction was there.

So he would have sworn that Jed would flirt with Buck to ease the flow of information along. Redford hadn't liked the idea, he would prefer to go with any other way, but he bowed to Jed's superior experience.

Jed looked absolutely disgusted at Buck's flirting.

Buck's hand clenched tighter on Jed's leg. "You certainly didn't seem to mind," he hissed.

Jed's lips twisted into a smirk. "Yeah, well, I've gotten f.u.c.ked by a proper c.o.c.k now, so. Call it inexperience."

Randall slouched in his chair, sighing. "Charm, Jed," he muttered under his breath. "We were going to go with charm." Redford couldn't find it within himself to make the same protest. He just rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a little smirk.

Buck spluttered ineffectively, standing up and looming over Jed. It occurred to Redford that it was a position Jed must have been in before-sitting there with Buck leaning over him, his mouth at just the right height for Buck to take advantage of it. But instead of leering or making a comment to point out that fact, Jed rose to his feet, jaw jutting out in stubborn anger. "I want to know who ordered those bullets, Bucky," Jed pressed, voice hard. "Or I'm going to get really irritated. You don't want me irritated at you, do you? You remember how very, very creative I can get."

Going faintly pale, Buck tried to glare Jed down. When that didn't work, he swiveled his scowl onto Randall, who was calmly examining his nails, and then to Redford.

Redford just glared back, lifting his lip in a hint of a snarl. He still wasn't sure that he made for a very threatening figure, but he did his best.

When Buck turned back to Jed, Jed just gave him a huge grin, the manic edges of it more disturbing than any scowl Jed could work up. "Chop, chop, Bucky."

"Please don't make him explode something," Randall sighed, straightening the front of his sweater. "This is a new cardigan."

Deflating a bit, Buck seemed to know he'd lost. He could call for security, but Redford had seen Jed in action. It was highly likely there'd be some serious injuries and property damage before it was all said and done, if Jed didn't just kill Buck where he stood. And apparently Buck had seen Jed work as well, because he silently went to his desk and opened a locked drawer. In it was row after row of neatly organized flash drives. After a moment of searching, Buck pulled out one and held it out to Jed.

"Everything I have. It isn't much." Buck smirked faintly, taking pleasure in that fact. "It's an umbrella holding company. You'll never get past that."

Jed examined the flash drive. His expression revealed nothing when he said, "This'll tell me the how, but not the why. Why are they kidnapping the wolves?"

"You think I give a s.h.i.t why?" Buck shrugged carelessly. "They could want extras for dance parties for all I know. I just supply, I don't ask."

"Yeah, well, f.u.c.k you." Eloquent as always, Jed tucked the flash drive into his pocket for safekeeping. "You must get paid somehow. You got hired somehow. Don't play the blushing virgin now, Bucky. You're s.h.i.t at it, and I know how the business works."

"As I said." Buck smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt fastidiously, a scowl creasing his broad face. "It's all on the drive. But if you must know, I'm paid in cash via courier after every new shipment. I hire the hunters through the usual channels, ads in the right papers or on the type of message boards they prefer. Low-end muscle for hire at best, but they do the job. I pa.s.s on instructions that are e-mailed to me and pay the men when the time comes. That's really it for me, Jed. I'm a middleman, nothing more."

"You're a G.o.dd.a.m.n parasite is what," Jed growled. For a moment Redford could see the indecision on his face, the tenseness in his arms that usually preceded violence. In the end, though, Jed just clenched his jaw and nodded at Redford and Randall, before turning to go. "Oh, and, Buck? You call your meathead security, try to follow us, so much as sneeze in our direction, I will give you a replay of San Francisco that will make you wish you'd gone into another profession. We clear?"

"Crystal." Buck spat out the word, sitting back down heavily. "Now get out of my office."

That was one order from the man that Redford was entirely too happy to follow. He rose from his chair just after Randall did and followed Jed to the door.

"Oh, and, Buck?" Redford turned back to face him. "Jed's favorite position isn't hands and knees anymore. He likes to see my eyes."

With that, he closed the door on Buck.

Jed urged them to walk just a little faster. Clearly he didn't entirely trust that Buck's common sense would outlive his ire. They reached the vehicle without incident, Randall immediately climbing inside. But before Redford could open his door, Jed had grabbed his wrist and spun him around. Redford was pressed back against the van, Jed kissing him, hard, both hands cupping Redford's face. It was one of their hungry, deep kisses, the kind where it felt like Jed was trying to sink into him, their tongues twining together, their breaths lost in an endless moan.

It probably didn't solve anything. It didn't wipe out their tension. But it still felt amazing, and when Redford drew back he was smiling.

"You're incredible," Jed told him hoa.r.s.ely, holding his gaze.

And you didn't flirt with him, Redford wanted to say. He wanted to tell Jed just how thankful he was for that, just how relieved. But he should probably save that for when there wasn't the distinct possibility that Buck's security would be coming after them.

Instead, he said, "I love you." The raw honesty almost hurt a little, but he wanted to say it. He needed to say it.

Jed's expression was agonized. His eyes searched Redford's, his thumb tracing an arc against Redford's cheek. "I love you too. I'll always love you, Fido."

They got back into the van, and Redford grasped Jed's hand tightly for a moment before he released it to let him drive. He felt a little lighter now. Jed still loved him, and they had information from Buck, which would be incredibly useful for the pack. Maybe, just maybe, everything might work out.

"So"-Randall's voice broke into the moment Redford and Jed were sharing-"did anyone else notice he was a minotaur?"

CROWDING SIX people into Jed and Redford's cabin was a tight fit, but they managed to make it work. Victor, Randall, and Jed were standing around the table, studying the contents of the flash drive on the laptop Randall had brought. Edwin and Anthony were slouched on the unused bed, a game of cards between them. Every once in a while they'd look up toward the intense research going on and get a look on their faces like they just might die from boredom.

Redford had curled up on his and Jed's bed, back against the wall. From there he had a decent view of the laptop without taking up important s.p.a.ce around the table.

"A minotaur half blood," Victor mused. "That's incredibly fascinating. I've seen mentions of them in records, but they're apparently quite rare."

"Because they're stupid," Randall pointed out. He was hunched over the laptop, fingers dancing across the keys. "And slow. And G.o.d, they stink."

"So... he's got bull b.a.l.l.s." Jed had said that a few times already, but he repeated it again with an amused smirk.

And, like every time since the first, Randall sighed at him. "No. Those are not bull b.a.l.l.s. Please stop."

"Like, he's a bull. He has b.a.l.l.s. They're bull b.a.l.l.s." For some reason, Jed found that incredibly funny to say. "Buck's bull b.a.l.l.s."

"He's not... a minotaur is not literally a bull," Randall tried, for the twelfth time, to explain the difference.

"I am going to literally die of boredom," Edwin piped up.

"Figuratively, Edwin." Randall turned to snap at his brother. "You cannot actually die from not being entertained."

This was apparently a fight they'd had before, because Anthony immediately rolled his eyes.

"You don't know that!" Edwin insisted. "What if I'm the first?"

"Then you are a medical miracle. Can you please just hold it together for two more seconds-"

"That's what you said an hour ago, but Jed keeps making the same bad nonjoke and Victor is giving you googly eyes and it's boring."