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Yeah, right. This man and Jonas Wyatt were rumored to be thick as fucking thieves. And Wyatt was overturning every fucking stone in New Mexico searching for the Bengal he had that APB on. That would be one stupid fucker if he trusted Lobo with his identity.
Lobo’s lips quirked in amusement. “You do that, Graeme,” he murmured. “You do that.” Then he turned back to the security glass and stared at the prisoner as he crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “Have you called the medic?”
“Yep. He’ll be here soon.” Graeme leaned against the wall, his lips curling in amusement as he glanced at the prisoner himself. “I think he’s going to need rehydration soon though. The bastard keeps pissing himself.”
Lobo grunted at that. “Coward.”
“Now, boss, maybe he just doesn’t have very strong kidneys, ya know? What do they call that? Inconsistency or some shit?”
“Incontinence,” Lobo snorted.
“Or something.” He shrugged. “I’ll have the medic strap an IV to his ass and rehydrate him so we can help him relieve himself again.”
“We’re keeping him?” Lobo asked, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Graeme’s intent.
“Why not,” Graeme drawled. “The boy has friends. Long-association-type friends. Those kinds of friends come looking for you when you’re missing.”
“Loyalty,” Lobo murmured then, still staring at the prisoner.
“Stupidity,” Graeme retorted. “But, I can work with that kind of stupidity if given a chance.”
Lobo nodded. “Very well, see what you can do with it. You have three days to draw his friends out, then I want him stitched up, patched up and ready to fly out to Haven to appear before the Wolf Breed Tribunal for sentencing. He struck against a Wolf Breed and conspired to kidnap one to turn her over to research. That’s a capital offense and only the Tribunal can sentence him for it.”
“Only if he survives the transfer.” Graeme smiled coldly. “Stupid bastards like that try to escape, get killed and save the Tribunal hours of needless debate and months of protests by humans.”
Lobo chuckled at that. “Yeah, but hell, they like their little amusements as well.” The look he gave Graeme was one he assumed brooked no refusal.
Graeme let him keep thinking that. For the moment.
“Gotcha, save him for Tribunal amusement. Check.” He tipped his fingers to his forehead in a careless salute.
“And you let me know if that Bengal with the APB out on him needs a friend,” Lobo reminded him as he turned to leave. “I make a hell of a friend, Graeme. A bad enemy to make, but a hell of a friend.”
With one last glance over his shoulder, Lobo left the room and closed the door behind him.
Whew.
Now that was what a Breed could consider a damned good close call.
Especially a Breed with an APB out on his ass and a Bureau director determined to reel him in like a fish on a hook.
Graeme had never considered himself reelable. Or hookable.
He grinned at the image before taking his seat and releasing the electronic lock to the door the medic used to access the cells.
“Be careful of that one, Doc,” he spoke into the mic as the medic made his way across the cement floor. “He likes to water his cot a bit.”
“You terrorizing the prisoners again, Graeme?” the Breed chuckled.
It wasn’t their first prisoner, or the first one Graeme had caused to piss himself.
“It’s getting too damned easy to do it, Doc,” he answered. “We need to find prisoners made of sterner stuff. Why don’t you put out a memo to all those weak-assed soldiers the Council keeps sending. We need someone tougher to play with.”
“Right. Memo. Send sterner stuff,” the medic laughed as Graeme opened the cell and watched the medic and two Wolf Breed guards enter the barred enclosure.
“Yeah,” Graeme murmured. “Send sterner stuff. At least give me a fucking challenge.”
He snorted at that.
