Interrogation Techniques by Charlie Richards

Chapter Twelve

After a relaxing bath, which soothed not only his nerves at going out alone that day as well as his slightly tender hole, Miggs prepared to head to the cafeteria. He would never ask his well-endowed lover to control his enthusiasm for his body, and in truth, he loved the after-effect. He just didn’t want to waddle down the hallway.

Plus, the bath really had given Miggs the perfect amount of time to find a couple of pastry recipes to show Desmond. He’d met the fox shifter while in the cafeteria a few days before when he’d been pouring over the buffet’s cookie choices. When Miggs had explained he was trying to decide on a couple for Del, Desmond had been able to give him some pointers.

Evidently, Desmond had worked as one of the cooks for almost seventeen years. He was familiar with just about everyone’s food preferences. Desmond had even revealed that Del had a sweet tooth.

Normally, Del did all the cooking. When Miggs had asked about that once, his mate had explained about his driving instinct to provide for him. Since Miggs had always loved dabbling in the kitchen, he couldn’t wait to do something in return for his mate, making him a yummy treat since Del had no baking abilities.

Something I can do for him.

Miggs grabbed his tablet and his keys. After sliding his feet into a pair of shoes, he opened the door. He locked up and headed toward the cafeteria.

Using the back hallway Desmond had told him about, Miggs bypassed the cafeteria and reached the kitchen. He peeked inside and swept his gaze around the area. While several people bustled around the space and dishes clacked in the sink by those washing them, the room didn’t seem too busy.

“Hey, man,” a dark-haired man called, spotting him. “You lost?”

“Um, I’m looking for Desmond,” Miggs told him, doing his best not to sound timid.

“Oh, are you Miggs?” the guy asked, crossing to him.

Miggs nodded. “Yeah. That’s me.”

The man held out his hand. “I’m Bart. Come on in.” He beckoned him inside. “Desmond said he was expecting you. He went to deliver some food to the buffet, but he should be back in a sec.” Bart guided Miggs toward a back section of the kitchen. “He set up some stuff back here. Said something about a baking lesson?”

Nodding again, Miggs peered around the industrial space. “Yeah. Said he could help me make something for my mate. He has a sweet tooth.”

Bart grinned. “Nice. Who’s your mate?”

“Enforcer Delanrue Drudeson.” Miggs couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice or the grin off his face. He loved being bonded with the sexy shifter.

With wide eyes, Bart murmured, “You bagged that Drudeson brother? Oh, damn!” Just as quickly, he smirked. “He’s the intense one. Bet that translates to some fantastic moments in the sack.” With a shoulder roll, Bart added, “Unless he’s a selfish asshole.”

Miggs growled softly. “Watch it, Bart,” he warned, surprised at his sudden urge to smack the guy upside the head. “My mate’s amazing... in and out of bed, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Sorry, Miggs,” Desmond cut into the conversation. “Ignore Bart’s mouth. He has no filter and often doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

Bart looked truly confused. “What’d I say?”

Desmond’s expression turned pained. “See what I mean?” Then he turned back to Bart. “I got it here. Thanks for showing Miggs in.”

Nodding, still appearing as if he didn’t get why he’d just been yelled at, the dark-haired shifter headed back to work.

“Really. Sorry about Bart,” Desmond repeated with a wry smile. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Miggs understood that and nodded. “It’s fine.” Chuckling self-consciously, he admitted, “Never felt that kind of possessive jealousy before. It was weird.”

Humming, Desmond reminded him, “You’re newly mated. I’m sure it’ll tone down after a decade or two.” With a wink, he added, “Or so I’ve been told.” Before Miggs could figure out how to respond to that, Desmond held out his hand. “Okay, so let’s see what you’ve picked out.”

Turning on his tablet, Miggs pulled up what he’d chosen and handed it to the cook.

Over half an hour later, Miggs washed flour and dough from his hands, scrubbing under his fingernails. He dried his hands, then stared at the oven. He hoped the strawberry cupcakes turned out.

“Ready to start making the icing?” Desmond asked, leaning a hip on the counter beside him. “It’ll have time to set in the fridge while that first batch cools and the second batch cooks. It’ll be perfect.”

“As long as it doesn’t take me three times as long to make as the recipe says like it did the cupcakes,” Miggs said dryly. “Fifteen minutes, my ass.”

Desmond barked a laugh. “I’m sure it won’t. In fact, the shortcut I’m going to show you will guarantee that—”

A loud crash drew both their attentions. A second later, more breaking glass reached their ears, and Miggs realized it came from the cafeteria proper beyond the swinging doors.

“Bummer,” Desmond murmured with a grimace. “Sounds like one of the busboys is having an off day.”

Unable to help himself, Miggs eased to one of the large openings that allowed the cooks to look out at the buffet so they could monitor the food. He swept his gaze over the area, quickly spotting the disturbance. Several people were throwing dirty looks at a pair of big men who were ordering everyone to leave.

The sandy-blond-haired bruiser seemed to be in charge, with a dark-haired, equally large guy doing his bidding. Except, they weren’t the ones who caused Miggs’s blood to freeze in his veins. A whimper escaped him, and he jerked back from the window. He struggled to catch his breath as he pressed his palm to his chest.

How could he be here?

“What the hell is Enforcer Glade doing?” Desmond grumbled, shaking his head. Then he must have noticed Miggs’s distress, for he gripped his shoulders and squeezed. “Miggs? What’s wrong?” When Miggs couldn’t manage to answer right away, Desmond asked, “Are you reacting to an allergy?”

“N-No, I—” Knowing he had to get himself together, he swallowed hard, then met Desmond’s gaze. “One of the men out there is my ex-alpha, Shaun. He’s supposed to be a wanted shifter. How could he get in here?”

“You’re sure?” Desmond asked. As soon as Miggs nodded, the fox shifter hurried over to the intercom and pressed a button. “Red alert in the cafeteria and the kitchens.”

“Mycroft is already on his way,” a female voice replied. “You should see him shortly. More are en route.”

The back door opened, and the redhead Miggs remembered from his first day out of the cell rushed into the kitchen.

“He’s here,” Desmond stated into the box. Then he turned to the redhead and dipped his head respectfully. “Enforcer Mycroft, since you got here so fast, I assume you know what’s going on?”

“Yep,” Mycroft replied with a growl in his voice. “An asshole helping another asshole.” He pinned his green-eyed gaze on Miggs. “I want you to shift and hole up. Got it?”

Miggs nodded, then immediately began yanking off his clothes.

Mycroft focused back on Desmond. “You got any good hidey-holes in here, Des?” He glanced around the space. “Somewhere a small shifter could hide that would mask their scent?”

Desmond cocked his head for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, depending on size.”

“Show Miggs,” Mycroft ordered even as he toed off his sneakers and whipped his shirt over his head. “Feel free to shift, but stay out of the way of the big guns until reinforcements arrive. Huh?”

Even though he looked a little pale, Desmond scoffed. “Not shifting against animals like Glade and Theron.” He grabbed a massive butcher knife from the block.

Miggs lost track of the conversation as he shifted. His body shrank as his bones popped, his tendons snapped, and his muscles cracked. He opened his eyes, and the world seemed massive around him.

“Damn, Miggs,” Desmond murmured from where he crouched to his left. “You’re a cute little thing.” Holding out his hand, he told him, “If you step on, I’m going to hide you in the spice rack.”

Miggs hesitated only an instant, then decided he could trust his new friend. Scurrying forward, he climbed onto the man’s hand. He left his back legs on Desmond’s palm and gripped his shirt cuff with his front ones.

“Okay,” Desmond muttered, lifting him high into the air. “Be careful up here, okay?” He settled his hand on the edge of a shelf full of spices. After moving a couple aside with his free hand, Desmond ordered, “Slip behind them, and don’t make any noise.”

Obeying, Miggs carefully crawled off Desmond’s hand, doing his best not to scratch the other shifter. He eased between the spice jars. His senses were immediately assaulted by a myriad of aromas, and he understood exactly why he’d been put there. The hiding place was even better than behind garbage cans.

Plus, so few people looked up when searching for something... or someone.

Miggs heard the clinking of glass and glanced behind him, seeing Desmond closing the gap behind him. Then his new friend headed to the stove, which was buzzing. He grabbed a hot pad, opened the oven, and pulled out the tray of cupcakes.

Even as Miggs wished he could smell them, he spotted the swinging door opening. Half a dozen men trooped into the kitchen. The dirty-blond guy was in the lead, followed by ex-alpha Shaun.

Four others followed. While Miggs knew one was an enforcer from his muddle, he didn’t know the others.

“Enforcer Glade, why are you leading a rogue around shifter headquarters?” Mycroft asked, his tone mild as he addressed the dirty-blond-haired guy. Without waiting for an answer, Mycroft pinned a hard glare at the huge dark-haired man. “And Enforcer Theron, you are definitely the last person I would have thought would be helping rogues, seeing as your parents were slaughtered by them.”

Enforcer Theron frowned. “Rogues?” He glanced around the group before landing his dark gaze on Enforcer Glade. “Enforcer Glade, what’s going on?”

“Aaaahhh, he didn’t tell you.” Mycroft shook his head. “Step away from them, Theron. You don’t want to get involved in this mess.”

Theron seemed to be wavering, glancing around the group uncertainly.

Enforcer Glade growled under his breath and pointed at Theron. “Don’t do it,” he ordered the other man. “I don’t know what that little rogue has on Mycroft to make him defend him, but this is not our head enforcer speaking right now.”

Mycroft smirked as he shook his head. Instead of addressing Glade, who seemed like a big douche who didn’t want to listen to anyone but himself, he addressed Miggs’s ex-alpha. “Shaun Rudger, I’m putting you and your ex-enforcer, Kitner Weiss, under arrest for a multitude of crimes, including drugging members of your muddle, shifter trafficking, and jeopardizing the secrecy of paranormals.”

As Mycroft spoke, Theron’s bronzed complexion paled. “Shit,” the huge shifter muttered with wide eyes. Pointing at the guinea pig ex-alpha, he asked, “He really do all that?”

“Of course, he didn’t,” Glade countered, scowling. “That’s bullshit that the rogue Midget Suvergy is trying to pin on him to get away with his own crimes.”

“There is testimony of his crimes by others—” Mycroft began, but was cut off by a belligerent Glade.

“Yeah, by his own father.” Glade scoffed. “His father! No wonder he’s trying to help clear him. He’s—”

“Enough,” Shaun roared, clearly tired of the debate. “Where is he? I want him!”

“You’ll find nothing here but your death,” Mycroft warned. His eyes narrowed, and he pinned a hard gaze on Glade. “And that goes for anyone here who continues to back him.”

“He was vetted by Councilman Peregrine,” Glade claimed with a sneer. “His word is above reproach. Far more trustworthy than you.”

The creak of metal bending filled the air followed by the crunch of tile breaking. A low hissing roaring noise filled the area, followed by the thud of a table hitting a wall.

Mycroft shook his head, a smirk curving his lips. “Too late. Miggs’s mate isn’t going to let anything happen to him.”

In the next instant, a massive lizard-like head appeared in the open window. A forked tongue flicked out, scenting the occupants of the room. The komodo dragon’s attention swung to Shaun, perhaps because he was obviously a guinea pig shifter.

“Oh, fuck,” Theron whispered. With wide eyes, he looked at Glade. “You went after Delanrue’s new mate? And you dragged me into it? What the hell, man?” Lifting his hands, Theron began maneuvering away from the group and easing toward Mycroft. “I’m so sorry, Enforcer Delanrue. I’ll make restitution. I didn’t realize I was escorting a rogue or that these guys were after your mate.”

Del flicked out his tongue toward Theron, obviously scenting him. Then he dismissed him and focused on the five still standing together. He hissed again, the sound full of anger and malice.

“I’m not letting this asshole stop me from my duties,” Glade declared, tearing his shirt from his body. “I’ll distract Delanrue. You guys take out these guys, find the rogue, and get the hell out of here. The councilman will get this sorted later.”

A second later, Glade shifted and lunged out the swinging door. Del’s dragon head pulled back out of sight. The sounds of outraged hisses, growling snarls, and bodies destroying furniture filtered through the air.

Miggs didn’t have time to wonder about them for long. The kitchen erupted into pandemonium. Everyone shifted... even Desmond.

Mycroft’s cheetah worked in tandem with Theron’s Kodiak bear, taking on a pair of strangers who turned into a couple of big tigers. Desmond’s red fox raced around the kitchen, snapping and lunging at the pair of guinea pigs while deftly escaping the tigers’ claws. The pair of guinea pigs seemed to be doing their best to distract Mycroft and Theron so that the tigers could get in a lucky shot.

Hunching against the back wall, Miggs could do nothing but watch and wait.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.

An especially loud crash followed by a clearly feline yowl erupted in the air. A second later, Del’s head returned, and it wasn’t the only one. A pair of almost as large komodo dragon heads flanked him on each side.

The dragon on the right climbed along that wall while the one on the left did the same on the other. The pair each snapped up a tiger and dragged them through the huge opening, disappearing into the cafeteria.

Desmond seemed to have used the distraction to his advantage, for once they were gone, he yipped happily. His front paws stood on an overturned pot. He sniffed at the pot, then pranced on his back end as his tongue lolled.

Mycroft shifted in seconds, then glanced around the room. Pinning a gaze on Miggs, he smiled. He nodded, then moved toward Desmond.

“You get one or both under there?” Mycroft asked with a grin.

Yipping twice, Desmond looked clearly pleased with himself.

Chuckling, Mycroft nodded. “Good job.” Then he turned to he focused on Del. “Is Glade alive out there?”

Del’s eyes narrowed as the creature grumbled. Then the dragon nodded once.

Mycroft hummed, shaking his head. “I can only imagine how much restraint that took. Thank you.” He headed to the spice rack and moved aside a couple of vials, revealing Miggs. “Your mate is safe and sound.”

When Mycroft began reaching for Miggs, Del hissed. Lifting his hands in placation, the head enforcer backed away.

Crawling halfway through the window, crushing a prep island in the process, Del stretched out his neck and placed his head beside the shelf. He hiss-crooned softly.

Miggs crept forward, chittering. Since his mate wasn’t changing back, he wasn’t certain what he should do. If he shifted on the shelf, he would fall off... which would hurt.

“Crawl onto Del’s head, Miggs,” Mycroft encouraged. “He needs to stay in his dragon form until he has you somewhere safe.” The cheetah shifter shrugged. “You haven’t been together long, and you’ve been in too much danger. Just go with it.”

Nodding, Miggs carefully climbed onto Del’s broad flat head. As soon as he did so, his mate began withdrawing from the room. He barely had time to notice the destruction of the cafeteria furniture and dents in the walls before Del was hustling from the room.

“I’ll give you an update tomorrow,” Mycroft called, laughing.

Del hissed but didn’t stop moving.

As they rushed through the hallways, heading for their suite, Miggs decided he didn’t have a problem with his dragon’s over-protective nature.

Especially since I know exactly what will happen when we get to our room.

Anticipation thrummed through Miggs as he looked forward to Del’s special brand of making certain he didn’t have any injuries.

Hell yeah!

They would figure everything else out later.

With a guinea pig grin, as Miggs was carried off by his dragon as if he were a damsel in distress, he thought of a line from one of his favorite movies.

Tomorrow is another day.

And with my ex-alpha caught, now I’ll have plenty of tomorrows to look forward to.

Miggs couldn’t have been happier.