White Tiger

“Twenty more in place,” a Feline’s gravelly voice came in through the receiver in Ben’s ear. “What about the stash?”

“Hard to get to,” a Lupine answered him. “Dylan keeps it pretty protected, and it’s not easy to get past Dylan. I don’t want him retaliating on me, or mine.”

“We’ll have to think of another way then,” the Feline said.

“No shit. How did they get it in the first place?”

“The Austin Guardian’s mate,” the Feline said. “She’s their ‘in’ with the Fae. But there are ways around that. But Collars are not our first priority, not yet. We’ll work on it. Top priority is—have we found a place?”

“Maybe.” The guy who answered was a bear, not one from the Austin Shiftertown. “If we do the deal right, no records will show that Shifters have anything to do with it. We’ll need a human.”

“I have an idea about that too,” the Feline said. “My biggest worry, besides that interfering bastard, Dylan, is Kendrick. Kendrick’s working for Dylan.”

“Okay, I know you think that,” the Lupine said, his voice heating. “But Kendrick would never work for someone like Dylan. He might be pretending to, but Kendrick always plays his own game. I say we should make Kendrick a friend, not an enemy.”

The Feline reached across the table, his hand turning to claws. “Contact him, and I kill you.”

The Lupine growled, not cowed. “Chill, kitty-kitty. It’s only a suggestion. I haven’t seen Kendrick or talked to him since the compound was destroyed, and I don’t follow him anymore. I’m bringing it to the table for us all to decide. You’re not leader yet.”

The Feline snarled softly, but withdrew. “Fine. I vote no. No contacting Kendrick. Not until we know whose side he’s on.”

“He’s on Kendrick’s side,” the Lupine said. “Trust me, I’ve known him forever.”

The Feline went on in a hard voice. “Part of the reason we’re doing this is the old leaders have screwed us standing. They’re why we’re practically slaves, wearing shackles to keep us tame. No more arbitrarily chosen leaders. We form the hierarchy the old-fashioned way, with challenges that are truly won and lost—not the shit rules of the fight clubs.”

The bear spoke, his rumble holding caution. “In the old days, Shifters died when they lost a hierarchy struggle.”

“Oh, well,” the Feline said, with exaggerated indifference. “That was nature taking its course. We looked after our families and clans fine in the wild, everyone knowing their place.”

“That’s true,” the Lupine said. “We can work it out so there’s not so much bloodshed, though. Dominance can be established in the fight clubs, even with their stupid rule that a won or lost fight doesn’t make a difference in the hierarchy. Such bullshit. Everyone knows it does make a difference.”

The Feline thought about this, then nodded. “Good idea, Darien. We can use the fight clubs to figure it out as we go. Turn the Shifter leaders’ rules to our purposes.”

The bear and Lupine, Darien, liked that. They murmured assent and toasted their agreement with beer.

The talk slowed after that, and the Shifters drifted apart from each other, then departed at different times. A wise tactic—not coming and going in an obvious clump.

Ben waited until they were all gone, then walked casually past their table, as though heading for the bathroom, and removed the bug.

He left by the back door, becoming an inky shadow among other shadows.

The head Shifter, the Feline, was still in the parking lot. Ben watched him walk to his motorcycle and prepare to mount it. Before the Feline could climb aboard, another man approached him. Like Ben, this guy stayed within the shadows, obscuring his face. Ben could see the guy was male and wore a hoodie, and that was about it.