"Yo!"
Whatever Clay might have said was lost as Max called out from his position by the door. Or that was what she thought until Clay leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. "We'll discuss this later. When we're alone."
That was when she realized she very definitely had succeeded in waking the sleeping leopard. And, bravado aside, she had no idea how to deal with him.
"Nice place." Max shook Clay's hand, then slid into the opposite side of the booth. "Guess I'd have been quietly rebuffed at the door if I hadn't been cleared by you?"
"There would've been nothing quiet about it."
Max grinned despite the fatigue lining his face. "My kind of joint."
A slender young male with the suggestion of future muscle about him stopped by the table and put a beer in front of Max. Though his face with its full lips and exotic Mediterranean bone structure was striking, it was his blue and black shiner that held center stage. His color faded when he met Clay's eyes. "How deep in the shit am I?"
Talin suddenly recognized that cap of black hair. He was one of the teenagers who had been hauled out of the bar two nights ago.
"We'll talk later." Clay dismissed the boy, who winced but left without further ado.
"Isn't he already being punished by being made to serve here?" she asked, ignoring the part of her that warned it might be better to stay below Clay's radar after the way she had provoked him - it'd be a cold day in hell before she let him intimidate her into silence.
"I'm Nico's trainer."
That just confused her, but Max nodded. "There's punishment and then there's getting reamed by your superior." Shrugging off his coat, he took a long drink of the dark gold liquid in front of him. "Shit, that feels good. Only thing better would be to fall into bed for the next twenty-four hours."
"Max followed the case from New York," Talin told the leopard beside her.
"How did you swing the authorization?" Clay's tone held a possessive darkness that she knew was meant for her alone.
Max leaned back against the faux leather of the seat, smile wry. "I have friends. Good people. But you already know that - you checked me out."
"Had to be sure."
"Fair enough."
"Any Psy interference in your investigation?" Clay's thigh shifted to press against hers and she had to bite back a gasp. Every time he moved, it reminded her of his strength, his predatory nature. But more than that, the contact tugged at hot, tight things in her, creating a hunger that threatened to destroy the already brittle equilibrium of their new relationship.
"No." Max's voice broke into her wandering thoughts. "They usually don't bother unless it involves a loss or gain for their race." He took another swig of his beer. "But someone is covertly monitoring my progress."
"How do you know?" Talin asked, fighting her body's reaction to the rough masculinity of the man who sat crowding her as if he had every right to invade her space.
"I put in some advanced security software on my files and they show unauthorized access. I keep the real files elsewhere so no harm done."
"Your boss?" Clay asked.
"No. He has authorized access." The detective finished his beer and put the bottle down on a coaster advertising the warm seas of Vanuatu. "To be honest, no one has much interest in this case on the surface. But the hacking was done by an expert. I wouldn't have picked it up without the software."
"Who supplied the software?"
Max's eyes gleamed. "Funny that. It was the Shine Foundation."
"What!" The word escaped at high volume. Face coloring, Talin lowered her tone-though oddly, none of the other patrons had turned. "When?"
"About eight months ago." Max shoved up his sleeves. "They're the reason I got this investigation. They made some calls and I was assigned."
Clay shot her a sardonic look. "Maybe Shine's not the saintly outfit you think it is."
"They haven't done anything wrong," she retorted, though Max's revelation disturbed her enough to blunt her razor-sharp awareness of Clay's aggressive mood. "Did they ask you for something in return?"
"To keep them informed." Max shrugged. "But I do that with all victims' families, and for Mickey, Iain, Diana, and Jon, they're it. I don't give them anything extra."
That made her feel a little better. "The things you're going to tell us tonight..."
"Classified." He looked around the busy bar. "Lots of sharp changeling ears here."
Clay shook his head. "No one can eavesdrop. Speakers built into the booth are sending out a low-frequency hum designed to disrupt sound. It can come in but not get out."
"Impressive." Max raised an eyebrow. "Can you actually hear the frequency?"
Talin was curious about that, too. As a child, Clay's abilities had delighted her. More than once, he had turned into a leopard simply because she'd wanted to stroke him - which now that she thought about it, had exhibited an incredible amount of amused indulgence on his part. She wondered if she'd ever get to stroke him again. That quickly, the slumbering need in her belly fired to brilliant life, sexual but also deeply, intensely emotional. She didn't care how selfish it was - she wanted her Clay back.
"No," Clay answered. "The frequency is pitched below our hearing but it works. That's why no one turned when you yelled." That last was directed at her.
"I was surprised." She caught the smoldering embers in his gaze - he hadn't forgotten her earlier provocation and, crazy as it was, she was glad. Being subject to that brooding temper of his was far better than being ignored.