White Tiger - Page 40/154

“Oh,” Ben said. Charlie was cooking at the stove, back moving as he flipped eggs. “I thought you’d found refuge with a friend or would have won over his loyalty by now.”

“Stealth,” Addie said, leaning to him. “That’s what we were going for.”

“Stealth is an S word,” Ben pointed out. “I can make it so he doesn’t remember, or has a compulsion not to talk about you, or something.”

Charlie turned around and marched over to the table with the frying pan and spatula, an irritated look in place. “I don’t know who you people are, but you can trust me to keep your secrets. I respect the privacy of my guests—that’s why all those celebrities were happy to stay here. So say what you like. It’s not like I’m not burning with curiosity.”

So speaking, he slapped eggs, perfectly cooked, to the plate in front of Ben. He slammed a couple pieces of bacon beside the eggs and stalked back to the stove.

“There you go.” Ben made an expansive gesture with his coffee cup. “Tell us everything, Kendrick.”

“How about this instead?” Kendrick said tightly. “If you’re working for Dylan, go back and tell him I’ll stay out of his territory if he stays out of mine. I’m done working for him, and he can keep up his end of the bargain. And tell him to send my trackers to me. The ones he has—Seamus and Francesca. The others if he’s caught them too.”

Ben’s brows climbed. “Seriously? Me give orders to Dylan, the biggest badass in South Texas? In the world maybe?”

“I’ve done what he asked. He knows that.”

“I haven’t hung out in the Austin and San Antonio Shiftertowns very long,” Ben said. “But I know that Seamus has shacked up with a human woman. Lives in her house somewhere south of Austin. Francesca, the Lupine, is living in the Austin Shiftertown with a bunch of bears, taking care of a cub. I haven’t heard about any others that were yours.”

Kendrick had already known about Francesca, a bear Shifter, and Seamus McGuire, a lion, even if he hadn’t been in contact with them. Dylan had told him their story. Kendrick worried, though, about Dimitri and Jaycee—he hadn’t heard a thing from them since the compound was destroyed.

“Find out about the others,” Kendrick said. “And send word to me.”

“So, what, now I’m your errand boy?” Ben thumped down his coffee. “What makes you think I’ll do all that?”

Kendrick leaned to the table, resting his fists on it and looking into Ben’s face. His black T-shirt stretched over his large biceps as his muscles tightened.

“Because you tried to come into this house where my cubs were,” Kendrick said carefully. “I’m being polite not killing you.”

Ben looked hurt. “I told you, I’d never hurt the cubs.”

Addie broke in. “You have prison tatts.”

“You mean these?” He rubbed his hand over the Celtic-looking symbols on his inner arm and the spiderweb on his elbow. “I got these so I’d blend in where I lived. You’d be surprised how much people leave me alone when they see them.”

“Goodness,” Addie blinked. “Where on earth do you live?”

“Around. But trust me, I’m a big sweetie. Your cubs are safe with me.”

Kendrick didn’t look convinced. “Finish your breakfast and go.” He rose from the table and moved to stand a little behind Ben, like a sentry.

“Or what?” Ben asked, picking up his fork.

“I’ll stop being polite.” Kendrick folded his arms and waited.

“Right, right.” Ben tore apart his eggs, the yolks spreading bright gold across the plate. “Errand boy.”