Wright scowled. “Isn’t your father still the leader of your pack? Tell him you changed your mind.”
This guy didn’t have a clue, did he?
“You don’t know jackshit about shifters. It doesn’t matter that he’s my old man. Alpha’s word is law. He wants me to help you take down the corpses, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Corpses?”
“Vampires. Nightwalkers. Whatever you want to call them.” With a snort, he added, “I’m guessing you don’t know jackshit about them, either.”
Wright might not get that he was in over his head challenging a wolf shifter—but he definitely had some balls. Colt would give the cop that. Fury flashed in his eyes before he surged forward, almost going nose to nose with Colt. He raised his hands before their chests bumped, the flats of his palms landing squarely between Colt’s pecs.
It was brave, but it was reckless. Wright was lucky that Colt had a stranglehold on his wolf—and that he telegraphed his move. Colt had a split second to lock his body down, bracing his legs so that when Wright charged at him, he stood firm. He didn’t budge an inch.
Wr
ight exhaled roughly, bouncing back as if Colt was an unmovable brick wall—which he kind of was.
Colt held up his hands as he shrugged, a real what can you do gesture. And then, because Wright was an asshole and Colt was enjoying having the upper hand, he curved his lips into an amused grin.
Hell, he even made sure his dimple popped.
Bring it, Wright.
The cop was about an inch or two shorter than Colt. Brawny. Muscular. Built lean in the waist for an Ant, but surprisingly strong.
He just wasn’t strong enough to move a wolf shifter who had no intention of being moved.
Wright must’ve realized the same thing. With another rush of air, breathing heavily through his nose, he scowled and parked his heels on the walkway, keeping some distance between the two of them.
Huh. He was smarter than Colt would’ve thought, too.
He pointed at him. “Hey, Wright. You want to prove me wrong?”
Wright narrowed his gaze on Colt. He noted Colt’s good nature with suspicion; it only went to prove that Colt’s assessment was spot on. The cop was pretty smart after all. Wright could tell that he was winding him up for something.
Which he definitely was.
Still, Wright nodded. “A year in that hellhole, Wolfe. I had to do a whole year working with your kind. I think I know what I’m doing. I don’t need your help.”
A year? Big fucking deal. Maddox did three while wearing a silver collar that not only sapped his strength and kept him from shifting while he was in prison, but also left a ring of scars around his throat. While Wright sat up front, checking P.I.D.’s and being a major dick, Maddox nearly let the Cage kill him.
And then there was the derisive way Wright spat out your kind. He really did think that being a human made him better than a Para.
Oh, this was gonna be fun.
His grin widened. “You know all about Nightwalkers?”
“I know enough.”
“You ever meet one?”
Wright didn’t answer him—and that was the answer Colt expected.
“Come on. You know so much about Paras? Show me. You prove that you can stand up to a vamp and I’ll talk to Diaz about you doing this by yourself. If he gives the okay, I’ll back down. Otherwise you’re stuck with me. Got it?”
Humans didn’t have the supernatural sense to tell when someone was lying or not. Wright thinned his lips, eyeing him as if he could.
Colt shrugged.