“What is wrong with you?”
“Many, many things.”
“I’m not taking him with me. He’s a kid.”
“He is a fifteen-year-old male bouda. He maxes out his bench press at three sixty and his alpha tells me he has a decent half-form.”
“Curran!”
“I love it when you say my name. It sounds so sexy.”
“I’m investigating people who sacrifice trained killers to dark gods.”
“Perfect. It will keep him occupied.”
Aaargh. “No.”
“He needs an outlet for all that energy, and you could use him.”
“In what capacity?”
“Bait.”
Why me, why? “I hate you.”
“If you don’t take him, the ball is back in my court and I have to give him hard labor. The last time I sentenced him to the Keep building, he was bench-pressing rocks to bulk up ‘for the girls.’ He has a brain, and hard labor accomplishes nothing in his case. This way he can waste his energy trying to bodyguard you and might accidentally learn something in the process. It might be what not to do, but that’s also useful. When Raphael comes to liberate him, he’ll be kissing his boots.”
“Curran, I’m not running a nursery here. This shit is going to turn hairy. You know it and I know it. The kid might get hurt.”
“I have to bloody him sometime, Kate. He came to the Pack late. Most kids his age have already had their first fight with real consequences. He hasn’t. B has a soft spot for him, because he is male and he had a rough childhood. She won’t take him in hand, and even if she did, there are seventeen males in the bouda clan right now, all of whom are under the age of ten or over twenty. He has no peers and he’s isolated.”
“So put him with other kids his age.”
“No. He can’t be challenged, because he’s a minor, but adolescents fight for dominance among themselves. He doesn’t get the pecking order, and he thinks it’s all a big game. He’ll run his mouth, and they will beat him, which will accomplish one of two things: either they will break his spirit or he’ll snap and kill somebody, and then neither B, nor you, nor anybody else in this Pack can protect him. He needs to learn how to be a Pack male.”
“And you think that I can teach him that?”
“You—no. But Derek can.”
Ah. Now it all became clear. He’d arranged this whole thing, like moving chess pieces on a board. I unclenched my teeth. “I’m really pissed off at you right now. You could’ve told me all this last night and asked me to take him. Instead you manipulated me into a corner. I don’t like feeling manipulated, Curran. I don’t appreciate being put into this position, and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not one of your flunkies. I don’t need to be managed and led by the hand.”
His voice dropped into a measured patient tone that made me want to rip his head off. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. You’re trying to make a fight out of nothing.”
I hung up.
The phone rang. I picked it up.
“Kate,” he snarled.
“Guess what? I don’t have to listen to you.” I hung up again and marched outside. Derek and Ascanio stood on opposite sides of the vehicle. I pointed at Ascanio. “Into the car. Now.”
Ascanio climbed into the Jeep. I turned to Derek. “What are you doing here?”
“I quit.”
“Quit what?”
He smiled. “My job.”
What in the name of all that was holy . . . “Why?”
Derek shrugged. “Just felt like it.”
Like pulling teeth. I tried to speak slowly and form coherent sentences. “What precipitated you quitting your job?”
He looked up at the night sky above us. “Curran and I had a conversation.”
I wondered if kicking him in the head would make the whole explanation pop out of his mouth in one chunk. “What did he say?”
“He said that I was doing a good job. He asked what would be the highest a bodyguard could go in the Pack. And I said, protecting the Beast Lord and his mate.”