“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he muttered.
“I don’t bet on anything where getting information out of Breeds is concerned.” She almost laughed at the thought. The definition of “Breed” was “closemouthed and unpredictable.”
Myron smiled at that, then gave her a probing look as he sipped his coffee, before saying, “I hear you have a particular Breed on your ass at the moment. What’s up with that?”
Cassa affected an innocent look. “Just a particular Breed? If there’s a Breed around, then he seems to be nosy about my business.”
“Comes with the territory?” He chuckled. “You’ve turned yourself into the bane of their existence with your reports. You’re not just a nosy reporter, but best friends with two of the Breed alpha mates. Be careful, you might become a
liability next.”
Cassa rolled her eyes at that. “Maybe I’ve already become one.” She had no doubt that was how Jonas and Cabal both saw her now. It was a dangerous position to occupy.
“That could explain that Bengal Breed shadowing you.” Myron folded his arms on the table and glared at her warningly. “Stay out of trouble, Cassa. I’d hate to see you get hurt here.”
Now there was a shift.
“There was a time when you would have helped me get into trouble,” she reminded him with a small smile.
Myron only shook his head as he sighed roughly.
“So have you found out anything about Banks?” He lifted his coffee to his lips as the waitress set another cup in front of Cassa along with a menu. “It’s obvious you don’t intend to stay out of whatever stink you’re trying to stir up.”
“I could only wish.” She tried for a smile as she poured cream in her coffee and watched Myron through the veil of her lashes. “Did you know Brandenmore and Engalls very well? I know they have a hunting cabin in the area.”
Myron’s eyes narrowed on her. “It’s a small town, Cassa. Of course I knew them. We didn’t socialize together though.”
“Did you suspect then that they were involved with Breed deaths?”
Myron’s expression hardened further as his jaw tightened.
“If I had suspected then, they wouldn’t be alive to continue to torture Breeds now.”
Myron was being extremely closemouthed on the subject. That wasn’t like him. He was a reporter. He should have already gotten most of the information that she needed to continue her own investigation.
“Did they have a connection to the Breeds that you knew of?” She frowned at the feeling that she was having to drag answers out of him.
“They hated the Breeds and you know it.” Myron grimaced. “Look, Cassa, if anyone around here knew anything that would help you or St. Laurents, trust me, you’d have the information. We want to see those two taken down as much as anyone else does. We’d be doing ourselves, as well as the Breeds, a favor.”
“There’s a rumor that someone is doing the Breeds other favors as well. That someone has identified the Deadly Dozen and they’re taking them out.” Cassa reached into her bag and pulled out the picture of the valley she had been searching for in the mountains. Watching him closely, she laid it on the table. “One of the Dozen could have died here.”
Myron’s gaze flickered over it before his expression tightened with what she was certain was recognition. He knew the area, and he knew that location.
“Do you recognize that valley?” she asked him.
When his gaze lifted, the look in his eyes was flinty and hard.
“That could be anywhere,” he said tonelessly.
Cassa frowned down at the picture before looking back at him suspiciously. She had seen his reaction; she knew he recognized that valley.
“Its about four miles past the north fork, along the eastern portion of the largest ravine that runs down the mountain.”
“That could be anywhere,” he repeated, his tone stiff.
Cassa sat back in the booth and stared at Myron in confusion. What had happened over the years to change his attitude toward her? They used to be friends.
“What’s the problem, Myron?” she asked quietly. “You and I have exchanged information for years, what makes this time different? What makes today different from last year?”