Abandoned and Unseen (Branded Packs #2)(62)

Viker’s brows snapped together, a dangerous flush staining his unshaven cheeks.

“I happen to have a brilliant plan if you’ll just shut up and listen.”

In the blink of an eye, the head of security had his gun pointed at the intruder.

Viker may be unstable, but Grant was a ruthless bully who enjoyed causing pain.

“Do you think I won’t shoot you?” he asked.

Sane enough to realize he’d crossed a dangerous line, Viker lifted in hands in a gesture of peace.

“Sorry. Please, hear me out.”

Grant slowly lowered his gun. “This had better be good.”

Viker folded his arms over his chest, once again looking smugly pleased with himself.

“Markham is always searching for a way to prove that the shifters are rabid animals who will devour us all if we don’t keep them penned in cages,” he said.

Grant sent a hurried glance around as if making sure there was no one loitering in the area. It was supposed to be a big secret that the SAU deliberately exaggerated—and sometimes outright lied—about the shifters and the danger they posed to civilization.

Reassured that no damage had been done, Grant returned his attention to Viker.

“So?”

“Take a couple of the dogs to my house and let them chew on the body,” he ridiculously proposed. “Then we can take some photos and post them on the Internet. It won’t be long until we have a full-fledged panic.”

Sinclair swallowed a choked sound of disbelief. The man was either stupid or delusional. Grant appeared to share his opinion as he gave an irritated shake of his head.

“The authorities won’t be fooled by a few dog bites on a dead body.”

Sinclair abruptly stepped forward, knowing he had to take command of the situation.

Eventually, Tweedledee and Tweedledum would end their squabbling. Once that happened, there was a very real possibility that Grant would insist on killing the female shifter.

Sinclair had to make sure that there was a reason to keep her alive.

“Then do your own autopsy before they can get their hands on the corpse,” he broke into the conversation, moving until he’d stepped through the gate to stand beside the female stretched across the road.

If worse came to worst, he was going to grab her and make a run for it.

Thankfully, both men were the type that preferred to be given orders they could carry out without having to use their brains.

They eagerly latched onto Sinclair’s proposition to salvage the situation before Markham returned and had them both thrown in a cell.

“He’s right,” Viker said. “Once it’s done, we can give out any results we want.”

Grant scowled, but he gave a slow nod of his head. “Fine.” He glanced at Sinclair. “Get the doctor.”

Sinclair leaned down. “I’ll take the female to the pens first.”

“No.” Grant reached out to grasp Sinclair’s arm and yanked him backward. “I’ll take her myself.”

Sinclair’s wolf snarled and snapped inside him, and he was forced to turn his head to keep the idiots from seeing the animal glowing in his eyes.

“Wait,” Viker snapped, moving to block Grant from the female.

Sinclair turned back in time to see the head of security tighten his hand on his gun. No doubt he was fighting the urge to shoot the bastard.

“What?”

“I’m not handing her over until we negotiate my price,” he warned.

“Name it,” Grant snapped.

“I want to be reinstated.”

“Impossible.”

Viker narrowed his pale eyes, the stench of his desperation tainting the air.

“That’s up to Markham,” he told Grant. “He’s the Director.”

“I know who the hell the Director is,” Grant snapped, “But I’m in charge of the guards.”

Unable to argue the point, Viker tilted his chin to a stubborn angle.

“Then give me a job behind a desk.”

Grant frowned as if confused by the man’s insistence. “You get a paycheck each month, not to mention the fact that we pay for your rent. Why work?”

“I’m trapped in hell. You try being stuck in that house day after day with nothing to do and no one to talk to.” Flecks of foam edged the corners of Viker’s mouth. “I want out. One way or another.”

Sinclair arched a brow. The warning was clear. Either Grant gave Viker what he wanted, or the man was going to tell his story to the authorities.

Shit. If only Sinclair could rescue the shifter and capture Viker…

“I’m sure a position can be arranged,” Grant ground out between clenched teeth. “Maybe overseas.”

“I was thinking Vegas.” Viker pressed his luck, making Sinclair wonder how he’d managed to live for so long.

He was, quite simply, the sort of man that needed to be gagged for his own safety.

Grant hesitated, then with obvious reluctance, gave a stiff nod of his head.

“I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”

Viker stepped back, spreading his arms wide. “Then she’s all yours.”

Sinclair parted his lips to once again suggest he take charge of the female, only to snap them shut when Grant gestured toward the guardhouse. Two uniformed soldiers came running.