Stolen and Forgiven (Branded Packs #1)(61)

“Fine.” He forced a stiff smile to his lips, turning back to the door. “I’ll do my exam in her cell.”

Grant moved until he was deliberately blocking Frank’s path, his face impassive, although Frank sensed that the man was taking pleasure in denying him access to the prisoner.

“Not until you clear it with the Director,” he informed Frank.

Frank stiffened his spine. How dare this…no-neck idiot treat him as if he were nothing more than just another employee?

“Are you aware that I’m the head of research in this facility?” he bit out.

Grant rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of who signs my paychecks. And it ain’t you.”

With a mocking nonchalance, Grant swiveled around and strolled out of the office, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.

Frank hissed in fury, his hand slipping into the pocket of his white lab jacket to touch the syringe filled with poison.

Someday.

But not today…unfortunately.

“Neanderthal,” he muttered, releasing the syringe as he walked to his desk and took a seat. He took a second to gather his shaken composure before he reached to pick up his cellphone and call the one member of the security division he knew he could trust. “Sinclair, I need you in my office,” he commanded as soon as the other man answered.

Tapping an impatient finger on the top of his desk, Frank felt each passing second. How much longer did he have before the Director arrived at headquarters? A quarter of an hour?

Thankfully, Sinclair was in the building, and in less than five minutes, the door was pushed open and the guard stepped into Frank’s office.

Unlike Grant, the guard didn’t have a military vibe. Instead, he looked like a street thug. He had dark hair hanging to his shoulders and a lean face covered by stubble that needed to be shaved three days before. His body was lean but hard with muscles, covered by a pair of faded jeans and a khaki Henley that stretched across his broad chest.

Strolling forward, Sinclair offered a lazy smile. Frank, however, didn’t miss the covert glance around the office to ensure they were alone.

The man wasn’t quite as casual as he liked to pretend.

Satisfied there was nothing hiding in the shadows, Sinclair turned his piercing blue gaze in Frank’s direction.

“You called?”

“Yes.” Frank rose to his feet. “A young shifter was brought in tonight.”

The man scowled. “There was a hunt and I wasn’t invited?”

Frank held up a hand. He knew that Grant and his men had occasionally taken shifters and put them in the fighting room that was hidden in the lower levels. They seemed to be fascinated by the sight of the various beasts shredding each other to a bloody death.

Or maybe they were just fascinated with the vast sums of money that exchanged hands by betting on the matches.

Either way, it meant nothing to Frank.

So long as he had the opportunity to study the animals, he didn’t care what happened when they weren’t in his laboratory.

“This particular shifter isn’t here for your games,” he informed the younger man.

Sinclair’s interest was lost as he stifled a bored yawn. “What’s so special about this one?”

“She’s the daughter of the Alpha of the Golden Pack.”

Something flickered in the blue eyes. “A princess?”

Frank blinked. Did the shifters have royalty? He didn’t know enough about their politics to be sure.

“I suppose she might be considered a princess,” he conceded.

Sinclair shrugged, back to being bored. “What do you need from me?”

Frank hesitated. He paid this man an outrageous sum for his loyalty, but he was careful not to share his secret agenda. He didn’t trust anyone.

“The Director isn’t here, and Grant is refusing to let me ensure our prisoner is unharmed,” he finally said.

Sinclair studied him for a long minute, no doubt sensing there was more than mere concern driving Frank’s interest in the female shifter. Then he gave an indifferent shrug.

“Grant’s pay-grade is higher than mine.”

The mention of the aggravating head of security brought a flush of irritation to Frank’s face.

“I’m sure you could make a trade for guard duty,” he said.

“I could,” he agreed, narrowing his gaze. “What’s in it for me?”

Frank hesitated before reaching for the file on his desk.

He’d heard the stories about Sinclair, of course. He knew the man had a twisted obsession with shifter females. And that once he was done with them, they usually ended up buried in the thickly forested park behind the building.

Which was why he’d approached the man in the first place.

A guard without morals would no doubt be willing to do anything. Including deceiving Grant and Director Markham when given the proper…encouragement.

“Her,” Frank said, flipping open the file to reveal a picture of Cora Wilder.

Leaning forward Sinclair gave a low whistle. “Nice.”

Frank closed the file. “Once she’s served her purpose, I’ll make sure you have some time alone with her.”

A slow, nasty smile curled the man’s lips. “Good enough for me.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “Give me five minutes to convince the guard to exchange shifts with me and then come down.”