He wanted answers and he wanted Chelsea safe before making any moves against the two Breeds reported to have saved her from the knife-wielding Coyotes that came after her.
Draeger grunted at the promise, his gaze gleaming in amusement as he leaned back against the bar. “You don’t scare me, Maverick.”
“That’s your first mistake, Draeger,” Cullen stated coolly. “I’m not a good enemy to make. I’d remember that if I were you.”
The day was coming that he’d prove it to them. They didn’t want that. As much as he hated it, loathed it, by becoming a thorn in his side, the two were ensuring that if Graeme learned of the problem, he’d make certain that the two Breeds were excised quickly.
Merciless and efficient, that was the twin he was saddled with. Graeme rarely gave Cullen a chance to deal with his own thorns if he knew of them. Cullen had learned years ago to make certain Graeme never learned of them.
“You’re no different than any other human in this place,” Tobias stated, his gaze taunting as Maverick glanced over at him. “Stronger than a few, perhaps, but no match for a true Breed. Recessed genetics don’t count in a fight.”
Recessed little snot, Graeme liked to call him. Cullen snorted at the insult.
“Keep it up, boys,” he invited the two men, not in the least intimidated as they no doubt expected him to be. “You’ll learn the hard way not to keep fucking with me.”
His animal genetics might be recessed, but the strength, coordination and sheer cunning savagery bred into his genetics weren’t. They never had been. And lately, they’d increased in power. He simply refused to put them on display.
Finding Chelsea within the crowd once again, he met the displeasure in her gaze and arch
ed his brow with mocking inquiry. She seemed more put out with him than usual.
Shooting her a slow grin and another tip of his beer, he then lifted the bottle for another drink. The anger that snapped in her dark gaze was almost funny. It would have been highly amusing if not for the disapproval in the gazes of the male Breeds she was with as they looked in his direction as well.
Bastards, what the hell was their problem? He wasn’t the reason she was here risking her ass in whatever the hell she was doing. He couldn’t even figure out what it was she was doing. And no one else seemed to know either. That, or they just weren’t talking. And the fact that they weren’t talking indicated a loyalty to a Breed far more powerful than any Cullen was aware of.
Except perhaps Graeme.
Normally, the very fact that he could claim kinship with the monster Graeme was enough to get any answers he needed.
Until now.
Whatever Chelsea was working on and whoever had hired her was such a closely guarded secret that all he’d found were more questions when he’d gone looking for answers.
And these two were becoming useless where answers were concerned.
A moue of disgust pursed Chelsea’s lips before her gaze turned from the Breeds she was chatting with to the two standing on each side of him. Her brow lifted and a second later she was moving purposely through the crowd to the exit.
That little arch of the brow was a clear signal to her shadows, he’d learned. She was ready to leave this particular club and head to the next. Or home.
Glancing at his watch, he noted the hour, timed it to the schedule he’d put together of her activities and guessed she was heading home. Whatever she was there for, he was going to assume it hadn’t panned out and she wasn’t happy about it.
And that was just too damned bad. He’d keep interfering until she deigned to tell him exactly what the hell she was doing and who she was doing it for. He’d be more than happy to take care of whatever job she’d been given, after he made certain she was safe.
Reaching the elevator leading to the upper floor of the warehouse just behind Draeger, Cullen executed a quick jab to the Wolf Breed’s side when he tried to block the entrance, then slid quickly around him to stand next to Chelsea.
“Bitch,” Draeger growled, one hand pressed to his kidney as he slapped the control panel.
The doors slid closed as Draeger glared back at him with a gleam of retribution in his dark blue eyes.
“Call your guard dog off, Chelsea,” Cullen advised her, catching a glimpse of her concerned expression from his periphery. “I don’t think you want to see the fight that’s coming if you don’t.”
She lifted her gaze to him and narrowed her eyes, the dark depths of her brown eyes snapping with ire.
“I know how to look the other way.” The grip she kept on the pack slung over her shoulder turned her knuckles white.
Cullen chuckled at the response.
“But we both know you won’t. And once I get finished with your Boy Scouts here, then you and I might have words.” He stared down at her, his expression and his tone warning her to remember the years they’d worked together and exactly how determined he could be.