Sloane frowned at Dex. “Don’t call him Yogi. He doesn’t like it. Call him Zach.”
“Seriously?”
“He owes me a favor.”
“For what?” Dex whined.
Sloane wriggled his eyebrows. “For my giving him your Cheesy Doodles.”
“Sadist,” Dex gasped. “I don’t think I like you anymore.”
“Yes you do.”
Dex stuck his tongue out at him and walked off toward Rosa and Austen. It didn’t take long to explain the situation to Zach’s Team Leader in
Unit Beta. The agent’s workload would be passed onto someone else on Zach’s team. They were mostly low-risk warrants other agents could handle. Zach was happy to help Sloane. The guy wasn’t much of a talker, and he looked damn intimidating. Scary as shit was more accurate. But he was a really sweet guy—unless someone tried to steal his snacks. It was a shame others often dismissed him as a brainless musclebound thug. Zach was well-spoken and much smarter than he was given credit for. As if somehow size and muscle mass equated to smaller brains. Idiots. Rosa had just finished patching Austen up when there was a knock on the door.
Zach stood on the other side looking uncertain. “Hey, Zach. Thank you for agreeing to help.” Sloane led him into the living room where Rosa finished applying the last bandage to Austen’s shoulder. When Austen saw Zach he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Holy fuck!” Austen’s eyes went wide as saucers as he gaped at Zach.
“Austen, this is Agent Osmond Zachary from Alpha Sleuth, Unit Beta. Agent Zachary, this is Austen.”
“What happened to him?” Zach asked, his eyes taking in all the bloodied gauze pads scattered around Austen before his eyes moved up to Austen’s shirt. A deep frown came onto Zach’s face, making him look even more intimidating, if that was possible.
“The Coalition wasn’t happy with Austen for helping us. I’m afraid they might try to hurt him again. I need you to protect him.”
Zach gave him a stern nod. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”
“Good. Call me if you run into any trouble.” Sloane patted Zach on the shoulder and thanked Rosa for her assistance. He told Austen to behave himself. There was no snappy comeback or flirtatious quip from Austen who was eyeing Zach with uncertainty. Sloane put it down to Austen’s skittish nature. Cheetah Therians didn’t give their trust easily. It had to be earned. They were too vulnerable in the Therian scheme of things.
On the way to the car, Sloane asked Dex if he wanted to get some breakfast close to home. It was 5 a.m. There was no point in going back to bed just to get an hour’s sleep, if that. He found them a café a couple of blocks from Dex’s house, and they sat across from each other in a booth and ordered coffee and breakfast. Well, Sloane ordered breakfast. Dex ordered a banquet. Where did his partner store all that food? Anyone who saw him eat would think he was a Therian with how he put food away.
“You really care about Austen, don’t you?” Dex asked, after swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancake.
“I might have been the youngest agent to join the THIRDS, but Austen was even younger when he joined as an SSA. He was fourteen. That was almost ten years ago. The kid’s had a tough life, and yeah, he was a thief, but he’s always kept his nose clean. His parents kicked him out after his first shift. He was eight. State tried to find him a new home, but he kept running away. He has a hard time trusting people. And if he doesn’t trust you, good luck keeping up with him.”
“And then he met you?”
“Little prick tried to steal my wallet.” Sloane chuckled at the memory. “I chased him all through Central Park. Lost him a few times, but I outmaneuvered him. He was really good, but his true potential was going untapped. With the right training, who knew what he could do. I told him who I worked for. There was a chance he’d bolt, but he didn’t. He asked me to buy him a slice of pizza and a soda.”
Dex gaped at him. “He stole your wallet, found out you were the law, and then asked you to buy him a slice of pizza?”
“And a soda,” Sloane reminded him. “He was very serious about the soda. Kid’s addicted to sugar.” He smiled slyly. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
Dex actually looked insulted. “I’m not addicted to sugar.”
“The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.”
“Screw you. I don’t have a problem,” Dex grumbled.
“That’s denial talking right there. Tell me,” Sloane said, leaning back against the booth’s seat. “What did you have for breakfast yesterday?”
“Leftover pancakes with fruit in them from the morning before last. Which you made. I’ve never had fruit in my pancakes before. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird. And if you will recall, I made very healthy pancakes with fruit, which you then drowned in maple syrup. Full calorie. High fructose.”
Dex rolled his eyes. “I didn’t drown them.”