Son of A: Chosen Book 30 Read online

  And I couldn't deny that I was a little peeved at his friends for letting him sit out there all alone while the rest of us sat in that dining room eating and socializing, and he'd never shied away from talking to people before. They could at least make him a fucking plate and take it to him. He'd eaten around the same time everyone else had, so he was probably pretty hungry.

  I watched Dylan through the window as he read something on his phone before seeming to let out a long, tired sigh. Pursing his lips, he typed out a message on his phone and leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees only for Lane's phone to ding with an incoming message.

  Were they texting each other? Was that how he seemed to know every time I left the room, so he could slip back in?

  I did my best to keep my shit together while the texting conversation seemed to last for a good fifteen minutes, while everyone else made their way out of the dining room one person at a time, and I was the last one sitting there besides Lane and Jax.

  "So, you're helping him avoid me?" I asked finally, a slight growl in my voice.

  Lane's head snapped up in surprise, and Jax narrowed his eyes. Jax and I had always gotten along, and I planned to keep it that way since we all had to work together around here, so I was going to have to reel in my crankiness with his mate for abandoning his friend, but something inside me that truly didn’t make sense to me, wanted to drag Dylan inside and feed him, wanted to take care of him.

  "Huh?" Lane asked, almost convincing me that he didn't know what the hell I was talking about… except another text came through, and he glanced down quickly, reading it.

  "I've been sitting here watching you two text back and forth." I glanced back at Dylan, shaking my head at the way he was fidgeting. "I know he's avoiding me, so it must be your job to let him know when I leave so he can come in and eat, right?"

  I sighed, standing and going over to the counter to grab another plate before piling food on it. "You could have a least made him a fucking plate," I grumbled, throwing a glare in Lane's direction.

  Jax growled, but I ignored him.

  "He didn't want to draw attention to himself," Lane said, and I turned to look at him. "He wouldn’t let West or me make him a plate because if someone saw us taking food outside, they'd wonder why. It's the same reason he wouldn’t order something, and have it delivered. Apparently, it's easier this way."

  "The fuck it is," I grumbled, trying not to be charmed by Lane's warm smile.

  Grabbing a fork and a napkin and swiping a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, I marched outside, my eyes drilling into Dylan's the moment they met mine. He looked about ready to bolt, and I thought I might actually lose my shit if he did, so I pointed at him with the water bottle.

  "Do not move," I growled.

  He froze, his eyes wide as I slammed the water bottle down on the table and then the plate before bracing my hands on either side of him and leaning forward until our faces were close enough, I was the only thing he could see. "Stop avoiding the dining room. This is ridiculous."

  He looked at me, completely stunned, his color-changing, hazel eyes huge as he watched my face. His lips were parted on a gasp and I desperately wanted to lean forward and suck that bottom one into my mouth. I felt myself actually sway forward a little more.

  I probably seemed crazy. He already thought I was holding a grudge against him for something his father did, and I should really set that straight with him as soon as possible, but every single time I got around him, I seemed to forget what the fuck I was doing. Like right then.

  I was supposed to be dropping off the food and leaving. Not leaning into his space and thinking about kissing him. Not thinking about lifting him up onto the table and pushing him back against the wood so I could press my body to his.

  I was completely shocked by how turned on I was. I hadn't even touched the man, and I was so hard it hurt, especially give the angle my dick was in at that moment.

  Standing quickly before I did anything to make the situation even more ridiculous, and make the poor guy think I was crazier than he already did, I stepped back from the table, desperately hoping my hardon wasn’t too obvious.

  Dylan licked his lips, his gaze moving over me. His eyes snagged on the bulge in my pants but moved quickly away, coming back to my face instead.

  "You know, I've been poisoned before," he said after a long moment of us watching each other like we always seemed to be doing.

  "What?" I demanded, automatically moving a step closer before realizing what I was doing.

  He shook his head, glancing toward the house and then back at me. "Well, I was roofied."

  Someone had… did they… What the fuck?

  "By who?" I growled, the cold fury moving through my body in that moment almost calming.

  I had a mission. Dealing with a mission was easy. This rollercoaster of lust and emotion, and not understanding how one man was fucking with the calm I'd found eight months after the accident when Kara had taken her first tentative step.

  She'd fallen, and while she'd been celebrating her success, all I could think was that she was supposed to be graduating high school, not learning how to walk again. I'd promised myself that day that Max Young wasn't going to get away with what he'd done to her. He was going to pay for every single struggle in her life.

  That had become my mission, and with it had come the calm that knowing what I needed to do in a job always seemed to bring me, but in the time since I'd met Dylan, that calm had been irritated somehow. I was constantly being thrown by the man. My heart acting up when I walked in a room and found him standing there, only to sink when he fled. My libido going absolutely insane every time I was around him and suddenly finding it necessary to masturbate several times a day. Even this crazy need to take care of him and protect him, and even berate his closest friends for not taking care of him properly. It was enough to make lose my mind.

  But killing someone who'd tried to hurt him in any way? That was easy. That was a simple task I was more than up for.

  "Lane," he said, shrugging before turning to look over his shoulder at the plate I'd set down while my eyes snapped to the window I knew Lane and Jax were standing behind, discussing what the hell they thought might be wrong with me.

  My eyes narrowed on Lane, and Jax pushed his mate behind him, shaking his head, and I was so furious in that moment, I almost missed the rest of what Dylan was saying.

  "Well, I didn't actually ingest any of it, and he was just trying to keep me from being killed, but…"

  I sighed, closing my eyes as I vaguely remembered the gist of a messed-up mission that started when West kidnapped someone who turned out to be part of Lane's undercover mission, since they were pretty sure he was connected to the chosen trafficking, and there had been a pretty odd situation. Lane had apologized so much, West had actually threatened him with several disturbing things if he didn't stop.

  "There isn't anything in that," I grumbled, finally opening my eyes and once again getting caught in his hazel ones. "You can even ask Lane, though now I'm not so sure about him. Maybe Jax? They were both there when I made it."

  He frowned, and his eyes seemed to change from mostly green with shots of brown to mostly brown in the span of a second as his pupils shifted slightly, widening.

  "So, why?"

  I curled my lip, already having guessed what the hell was going on with me, but not sure how the news, or even the possibility of checking that particular theory out would go over, so I just shrugged.

  "Just eat it and stop skipping meals. Do I need to stay somewhere else? Would that make it easier for you?"

  "No. I should be asking you that. Do I need to leave?"

  "No."

  "Okay, he said, giving a little nod. "Thank you."

  I nodded, giving him a little grunt and turning quickly to walk away. I was going to have to figure this shit out soon. I needed to know if I was right about what was drawing me to the man so insanely, and if so, how would that work out with my plans
for Max Young?

  ***

  I entered the living room of the leap house, where we were having a meeting to discuss everything that Meyers had found out from Makenzie about the actual Planner, and everyone seemed to be settled fairly comfortably, almost sitting on, or being sat on by their mate.

  There were several spaces in the room that could easily accommodate me, but the spot on the couch next to a certain someone who was pretending not to watch me out of the corner of his eye, looked to be the most promising. Especially if I didn't want to end up in the middle of three or four crazily, happily mated couples, unable to pay attention because I was too busy imagining spraying them all with vinegar to keep them from dry humping each other through the whole meeting.

  His eyes widened as I closed in on him, his head finally turning toward me the way his eyes had already, and I gave him a slight nod, trying really hard not to laugh when he tried to do it back and it looked more like he did some kind of awkward body wave, or like he was falling asleep with his eyes open, and he did that head fall forward jerk awake thing.

  I slid into the seat next to him, finding it oddly thrilling to have him so close, even though I was an eighty-nine-year-old man who felt like maybe I shouldn't get the butterflies just because my crush was sitting so close.

  Crush? Don't be ridiculous. You just want to fuck him. But I knew that wasn't true. I was way too protective of the man to just want to fuck him. Because he's a human.

  His body was rigid next to mine, and though I completely understood, I wanted him to relax, to feel at ease in my company.

  "Sheridan Maxwell," Meyers said, drawing everyone's attention in the room to the projector that had been set up, showing a picture of a man who looked somewhat familiar, but I wasn't completely sure why. The name sounded like one I'd heard too.

  "He owns quite a few small businesses around the Santa Fe area. None of them enough to afford him the life that he lives, but that is all he claims on his taxes, and for some reason nobody bothers to find out anything else.

  Because he was paying people off, most likely.

  "In that case, we should probably be careful who we trust in the FBI," Dylan said, somewhat echoing my thoughts.

  "I agree," I said, turning to give him an approving nod. "Probably nobody outside of the people we already trust with this. Definitely hold off on filing any reports until it's all said and done."

  There were quite a few nods and murmurs of agreement from all the agents in the room, and I realized quite suddenly just how much we'd kinda taken over the leap. Thankfully, all our men seemed to have the proper respect for Flynn, and it made me thankful that I'd decided to let Meyers drag me back in. This had been what was missing when I'd decided to retire before.

  There was no sneaking and competing here. People didn't hide evidence, so they could look like a hero later. Nobody was using the people around them as a stepping stone to the top. These people all had one goal. To rescue as many chosen as they possibly could while making the bad guys pay.

  They'd all proven their dedication to the cause in one way or another.

  "And we know for sure that we don't already have someone in there?" Parker said, raising an eyebrow. "I'd really hate for someone that didn't deserve it to get hurt because we didn't have a high enough clearance.

  "Malik met the director a couple days ago in his office," Braden said, his sweet voice filled with humor.

  I'd met Meyer's mate Braden and Rowe's mate Malik when they all met me at the airport in Lincoln, but I hadn't gotten to spend too much time around either since I'd been here. Instead, I'd been doing my best to stay busy, so I didn’t spend my entire day following Dylan around.

  Braden seemed really sweet, and Malik seemed… like he'd kill anyone who got too close to his mate.

  "Okay. I guess I don't know what that means," Bennett said, raising an eyebrow and looking around the room.

  I was just as confused as Bennett.

  "It means we now have a lot of access," Rowe said, looking proud.

  "That one was a little harder," Malik said, pursing his lips, his eyes narrowed. "There is no logical sequence, and he types fast. If he's that paranoid about his password, he probably changes it a lot, so I don't know how long we'll have access, but we do know we don't have any agents inside Maxwell's mansion."

  I leaned over slightly to whisper to Dylan, trying to shut down the part of my brain that was screaming closer, closer. "Do you know what's going on?"

  Dylan turned his head slightly in my direction, his hazel eyes almost brown in that moment. "He's really good at collecting passwords. If you've gotten on to the site in front of him, he now has your password."

  "No way," I whispered, turning to look at the man whose face was more scarred than mine. It had been what I was guessing they were getting at, but it just seemed so unlikely.

  Malik looked my way, his expression straightforward, but not cold, and I nodded at him, very impressed with the humans here.

  What we were doing with this new unit, this new agency, was a great thing, and we had so many great people around to make it happen.

  Dylan chuckled, and the sound made my chest ache with a happiness I shouldn't feel for someone I barely knew. "He got irritated with Meyers a few months ago and took away his security clearance at the airport. The TSA agent was gloving up for a cavity search when Rowe finally managed to clear up the mess."

  I snorted, along with several other shifters who'd overheard him, shaking my head. I'd heard that Malik and Meyers enjoyed messing with each other… or actually, I'd heard Braden get on to both of them for being assholes, but I didn't know many people who would willingly piss Meyers Andrews off. The man was known for his interrogation, and the less-than legal way he tended to get information if he wanted it.

  Dylan was watching me again when I turned to look at him, a small smile playing across his lips as he watched my mouth.

  West elbowed him from the seat on the other side of Dylan, breaking the spell the man seemed to be under.

  Dylan grunted, turning to smack at his friend, and I watched for a moment before turning my attention back to the screen where Meyers was pulling up a set of house plans.

  I heard West give a short hum that sounded pointed, and then another smack and a "shut up," from Dylan, which made Lane, who was sitting on the chair next to the couch chuckle.

  "I'm just sayin'," West said out of the corner of his mouth.

  "Well, stop sayin', asshole."

  Chapter Three

  As soon as the meeting had ended, I'd practically thrown myself in the direction of the mansion, desperately needing to get away from the leap house for a while. To get away from Renn.

  My reasons were suddenly a little different than they had been a few days ago, which would have been to give Renn a little peace, but they were still very much centered around Renn… and the massive, ridiculous, completely over-the-top crush I'd developed on the man.

  But how could I not? On top of all the things I'd admired about him already, he was being very civil… and he had one of the best laughs I'd ever heard in my life.

  And he'd sat next to me. He'd sat so close, I could feel the disturbance of the air when he moved, even if it was subtle. He'd asked me a question and leaned into my space, and even smiled at me. I was honestly starting to worry he was up to something.

  So, I was sitting on a plane, waiting for it to finish boarding, so I could run off to New Mexico, and throw myself into a mission. The team would be along soon. I was just going to make sure there was an easy way in and an easy way out, so we could get in and get Makenzie's family… and then burn the motherfucker down.

  It was probably a little extreme, but really was the best option. I probably would have volunteered for it anyway. I wasn't really helping with construction, and we'd already drawn up the plan for everything and were patiently waiting for feedback from other packs, leaps, prides, skulks and whatever. I didn't have a mate, so there wasn't really a reason for it not to b
e me.

  Foster had asked if I had a preference about who he sent with me, and though I'd wanted to tell him anyone but Renn, I'd kept my mouth shut and shook my head. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to just how much I was avoiding the man.

  I was so busy thinking about Renn, and my quickly developing feelings for a man I barely knew, I thought I might have been hallucinating when I looked up… and was staring right into his face… on the same plane as me… coming down the aisle with his purple eyes pinned on mine.

  His dark-auburn hair was a bit of a mess, and he looked about five seconds away from an absolute meltdown, and I would bet anything it had to do with the woman in front of him who was holding her carry-on in the most ridiculous fashion, and literally bouncing it off of every seat as she headed toward the back.

  I knew I was right when she bounced it off the next seat and spun, catching him in the ribs with an elbow. Amazingly, he very calmly reached out and gripped the luggage, spinning it ninety degrees, so that it was straight up and down and easily fitting between the two rows of seats instead of horizontal and leaving a path of destruction and pain.

  She brightened immediately, turning, a thank you already on her lips… until she saw his face. She shrank back quickly, looking away while mumbling something I couldn't hear, and I frowned, my eyes following her as she made her way past me.

  I felt myself rise slightly out of my seat, not really sure what my intention was, but I was suddenly feeling very violent. Renn's throat clearing stopped me from doing something crazy, like hitting a woman for the first time in my life, and my head snapped back in his direction, my eyes falling on the scar on his face and not at all seeing how anyone could react the way she had.

  I was sure not everyone was oddly intrigued… okay, and incredibly turned on by the mark on his face, but that grown-ass woman had acted like it was a fucking disease she could catch.

  I tried not to sigh like an idiot as I was once again pulled in by his stunning purple eyes. I was sure they were actually probably considered gray, but that just didn't explain them well enough to me. I didn't know if it was the dark red-brown of his hair that made them pull purple, or if they simply were that color, but they always managed to draw me in, and the few times I'd been close enough to see the actual shapes and dimensions, I'd of course completely forgotten that I wasn't supposed to just stand around and stare like an asshole.