“Is this becoming an issue, Reever?” Facing him fully, Graeme narrowed his eyes on the Wolf and waited.
Losing Reever’s loyalty would be a problem, but it wasn’t insurmountable.
“Not an issue.” Lobo shook his head, not at all concerned by Graeme’s stance. “Simply an observation. At the moment, my only issue is Wyatt. As I said, a war with the Bureau would be a problem at this time. I’d prefer to stay on the friendly side, if you don’t mind. But I’d also prefer not to have enforcers lurking around my property.”
In that, Graeme didn’t blame him a bit.
“Tell them they can watch the house all they like from the property line,” he suggested, unconcerned with the problem. “Your agreement with the Bureau does not arbitrarily allow for Bureau surveillance on the grounds itself.”
“Graeme, they’re already watching from the property line.” Reever sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, likely wrinkling the pristine white silk shirt he wore.
Lobo didn’t like wrinkles, Graeme remembered in amusement.
Damn. If he had to make this a personal favor, then he was going to lose one of the debts he’d gathered over the years. Likely several of them. He didn’t like the thought of that.
“Doesn’t the new division director of this area owe you a favor?” Graeme asked then, his eyes narrowing on the Wolf. “You allowed the use of this cavern to take care of a little problem he had not long ago.”
The execution of the man who had betrayed Rule Breaker’s mate wasn’t exactly a nominal debt. Reever had given the use of the caverns, supposedly, as well as a promise to keep the location and Breaker’s part in it secret.
“That’s the only debt Breaker owes me,” Lobo growled. “I’d prefer not to use it.”
Graeme stared back at him in surprise. “You want me to use my brownie points?”
“You have far more than I do in this instance,” Lobo drawled knowingly. “It seems only fair you use one from what appears to be an abundance of points rather than using the only one I’ve acquired with the new division director.”
“I’ve an abundance because I don’t spend them without thought or give them away like fucking candy, Reever,” he growled, irritated at the thought of spending one of the precious debts he’d managed to acquire.
“I want this to go away, Graeme.” Smooth, without command but definitely a warning, Lobo gave a brief inclination of his head as a farewell before turning and walking away.
“Yeah, well, and I want to let the freak loose, but I keep him contained,” he muttered, striding furiously back to the computers and throwing himself back in his chair.
Dammit, he didn’t have time for what Lobo wanted.
Glaring at the computer screen, his eyes narrowed at the program’s response to his earlier command. The anomaly wasn’t part of the programming, but neither was it identified or located.
Pulling up the holo-board he went back to work.
Jonas would have to wait until later.
? ? ?
She’d been certain she could find at least some measure of peace at the small Reever guest estate, Cat thought as she opened her eyes the next afternoon and stared across the pool at Graeme. She’d sensed him watching her, known before she even opened her eyes that he was there.
Drifting lazily in the pool behind the house, dressed in nothing but a miniscule bikini, Cat admitted that the urge to enjoy the water might have been a mistake. The Bengal was watching her like an afternoon snack after missing breakfast.
“What do you want?” she muttered.
Pushing the inflatable lounger to the steps leading into the water, she slid from the float and stepped warily onto the rock patio.
Graeme was prowling closer, his gaze flickering over her body as water dripped down her tanned flesh. The look was so intent she wondered that she couldn’t feel the touch of it like a physical caress.
“Stop undressing me with your eyes,” she demanded as she moved to the umbrella-shaded table and the bottle of water resting in the ice bucket there.
“You’re already undressed,” he assured her, his voice smooth seduction. “I was merely enjoying the view.”
“Then stop enjoying the view.” Not that the retort fazed him.
His lips quirked in the beginnings of a far too appealing hint of humor. And was still watching her, still stroking her with his gaze, caressing her. And she found herself far too responsive to it.
She reached for the light robe she’d brought out with her.
“Please don’t, Cat.” It wasn’t a demand.
Turning, she met his gaze, the hunger and need in it blistering, the demand clear, but his tone was gentle, requesting. He was asking her not to put the robe on, not demanding it. At least not demanding it vocally.