Page 7 of Guarded By the Bigfoot (Mystic Ridge Monster Mates #1)

PARKER

I rummaged through the duffel bag Tali gave me, assessing the remains of my life. Most of my equipment was unsalvageable, cracked, smashed, or covered in mud. At least my favorite leather jacket survived, though it needed a good cleaning.

“Well, this is depressing,” I muttered, tossing the shattered spectral lens back into the bag.

“Charming as always,” Brock said, appearing behind me with that dry edge in his voice. “About that. We need to talk about ARC.”

“Let me guess. You want me to keep them out of this mess?” I zipped the bag shut.

“They can’t know what’s happening at the Veil. Not yet.”

I pulled out my phone, cracked but still functioning. A half dozen missed calls from HQ. “They’re already looking for me, Brock. Kind of hard to hide a car wreck and disappearing agent.”

“Parker, please. Let us handle it.”

“If I don’t check in soon, ARC’s going to send a recovery team. Armed, and very curious.” I stood and brushed off my pants. “Director Nolan is probably halfway to a coronary by now.”

“I know exactly how they are,” Brock said, jaw tightening. “I was there when they started grabbing up every artifact they could find. Locking away anything with a hint of power. You weren’t around back then, Parker. You didn’t see how they operated.”

I crossed my arms. “That was years ago.”

“They wanted control. Complete control. Every relic, every site, every scrap of knowledge, all locked away in their vaults.” He pushed off the doorframe and started pacing. “You think that’s changed? That they’ve suddenly developed a conscience?”

“It’s not like that anymore, Brock. Hasn’t been for a long time.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “After that mess, they had to change. New oversight, new protocols. Half the agency got replaced.”

“And you believe that?”

“I’ve worked there for years. I’ve seen the changes firsthand.” I met his gaze. “Look, I get it. The old ARC was a disaster. They made huge mistakes. But keeping powerful artifacts out of civilian hands? Creating containment protocols? That saved lives.”

Brock ran a hand through his hair. “And what about the communities those artifacts came from? The people who protected them for generations?”

“Which is why we have the Heritage Return Program now. We work with local communities. We return items when possible.” I exhaled, frustration tightening my chest. “I get where you’re coming from, the anger, the distrust. It’s valid. But keeping quiet about the Veil? That’s dangerous.”

“More dangerous than ARC getting involved? Starting another incident?”

“They’re not perfect. But they have resources we need.” I held up my hands. “I’m not saying we tell them everything. Just... let me manage it. Keep them informed enough to keep them off our backs while we figure this out.”

Brock paused mid-step. “You really trust them that much?”

“I trust them to want to prevent a disaster. And right now, that’s exactly what we’re facing.”

“I’ll never trust them.”

I watched him, watched how tension rippled through every inch of him. My gut twisted with the familiar pull. Duty to ARC battled with the growing trust I had in him. In this place.

“I hear you,” I said. “But I can’t just walk away from everything I believe in. Everything I’ve worked for.”

Brock turned to face me, his eyes unreadable. My heart stuttered. I didn’t want him to look at me like that, like I was something he might have to let go of.

“No one’s asking you to walk away,” he said, voice low.

I got up, stepping toward the window for some space. The tension between us pressed in like fog. “Aren’t you? Because it feels like you are. Ten years at ARC, Brock. I’ve seen the good. But then there’s you, and all the amazing things you do out here on your own.”

“Parker...”

“And the worst part?” I turned. “I believe in both. In ARC. In you. Which makes me either the worst agent or the most naive Guardian sympathizer on record.”

His lips lifted. “Why not both?”

“Not helping,” I muttered, but couldn’t help returning the smile. That was the problem with Brock. He made everything complicated. He made me feel things I shouldn’t. And made me question the things I’d been so sure about.

“Look,” I said, calmer now. “I know there’s history here. Bad blood. But we have to move forward.”

“We do,” he said, stepping closer. “Which is why I need you to trust me.”

Trust. So small a word. So much weight.

“I do trust you,” I said. “That’s part of the problem.”

“How is trust a problem?”

Because I don’t just trust you as an ally. I trust you with too much. And every time you look at me like that, I forget why this is a terrible idea.

“You know why,” I said, turning away before I did something really stupid like kiss him.

I turned back, waiting for him to say something, anything, when Tali breezed through the door.

“The meeting’s set up in the control room,” she said, wings fluttering behind her. “Pack and clan leaders will be linked in five.”

Brock nodded, though his eyes lingered on me. That look, too intense, too much. I bent down, pretending to re-check the contents of my bag just to catch my breath.

A soft giggle drew my attention to Tali. Her wings fluttered rapidly, like a hummingbird’s, and she glanced between us with obvious amusement.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She grinned and shrugged, wings still shimmering.

Brock cleared his throat. “I should head to the control room.”

“I’m coming too.” I zipped up the bag and stood.

“Of course you are.” He shook his head, but I caught the hint of a smile. “No point arguing with you, is there?”

“None whatsoever.”

Tali bounced on her toes. “I like her, Brock. She’s got spirit.”

“That’s one word for it,” he muttered, but the warmth in his voice took any sting out of the words.

I grabbed my jacket. “Lead the way.”