Page 10 of Softer Than Stone (Fangs & Felons)

And the knife…? Turner had wanted to eat said cheesecake from Waru’s naked body. Like, what the fuck? Who even ate cheesecake with a damn knife? Why not a spoon or a fork? It all added up to just how full of shit he was.

Fuck. Just the thought had me grinding my teeth and considering if Michaels would look the other way if spent some time alone with Turner in the interrogation room.

“Shit.”

I snapped my attention to Michaels, wondering why he was cussing. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming to struggle to settle on an emotion. “I think we’re going to have to call Callen.”

Understanding slammed into me. I’d heard the stories, but I had no clue how true they were. “You think that’ll work? You think he can make Turner break?”

Michaels shrugged, even as he pulled out his phone. “I don’t know, man. The last time he worked his magic in the interrogation room, he got the answers no one else could. He wouldn’t let anyone but Thatch watch, and there were no recordings.”

My brows shot high. Thatch was the head of the ITU before he moved to join the SICB Academy, where he’d since been promoted to chief instructor.

He was also Callen’s saner half and had used to be his boss.

He was also a stickler for rules and following protocol.

Unlike the division leader, who seemed to make a game out of breaking rules and seeing how far he could push Director Durrant, leader of the SICB.

I didn’t have the chance to respond before he was talking to Callen, explaining the situation, and asking for his special skill set.

Colour me curious, but I hoped to get to watch him in action to see what all the fuss was about. More than that, though, I really hoped he had some special mojo up his sleeves. We needed to figure out if Waru was at risk.

I spent time with Waru before Callen arrived. The trembling in his hands had stopped, and the bruise on his jaw had almost faded.

“I can organise for you to go home, have someone watch the house.” The first time I’d offered, he’d shot me down. I was grateful for it, not wanting him far away. But exhaustion bit at his heels, making his usually rich brown skin look dull.

“No.” Creases formed between his brows. “Unless you want me to leave.”

“No,” I answered quickly. “That’s the last thing I want.”

His brow smoothed out. “Yeah?”

I squeezed his hand. “Definitely. We might be in for a wait, or it might just be another hour. I’ve no idea yet.

” We’d brought both Waru and Turner to an on-the-books SICB location that had no association with the ITU.

It made life tricky at times, working as a covert unit.

We weren’t quite off the books, but we were as close as you could get to being ghosts.

The whole team had official SICB identities in bogus and innocuous divisions. We also each carried several aliases. It was no wonder that ITU relationships bordered on incestuous, which honestly, I’d taken delight a time or twelve saying to the members of the team who dated in-house.

To tell Waru the truth, I’d need to get approval from not only Lucas as team leader and Callen but also Director Durrant. If Waru and I reached that point, though, it would be worth weaving through the red tape so I could be completely honest with him.

Or as honest as any agent could be who worked with top secret cases for the bureau.

“I can wait.” A soft, tired smile appeared before he leaned against me, taking comfort. I swallowed hard, not used to being in this situation. Not used to offering even a semblance of softness. It was a feeling I could get addicted to. Or maybe it was Waru who’d be the object of my fixation.

Stalker my arse . The thought hit me, and I released a snort, earning me raised brows from Waru.

“Copy, Chris. You might want to peel yourself away from your chef. Callen’s in the lift.”

The lift dinged, and I glanced towards the door.

Callen strode out first, exuding the confidence of a man who was in charge—technically.

It still threw the team off sometimes, seeing him as the division leader.

Not because he wasn’t incredible at the job, but because he took such obvious joy in breaking every rule and shredding red tape into confetti.

Behind him, Kent followed, her expression hovering between exasperation and amusement, her usual state when dealing with Callen.

“Fancy seeing you here, boss,” I said, unable to keep the wryness out of my tone. “Figured you’d still be arguing with Durrant about that whole ‘protocols are optional’ thing.”

Callen smirked, the picture of unbothered authority. “Turns out the director loves me. Probably because I save her ass on a regular basis.”

Kent snorted, dropping into her chair at her workstation. “Or because you’re too much trouble to fire. Like a feral cat that keeps showing up no matter how many times you lock the door.”

“Thanks for the support, Kent,” Callen deadpanned. “Remind me to dock your snacks budget later.”

“As if you could function without me.” She tapped a few keys when she reached the bank of monitors to the left of the room, pulling up the surveillance feeds with her usual efficiency.

“Anyway, enough about your dubious leadership style. Chris, I’ve got the traffic cams. Caught the tail end of your liony joyride and tracked the car to the mechanics. You’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes. “Appreciate it, Kent.”

She turned in her chair, raising an eyebrow. “That it? No grovelling? No declaration of my unmatched brilliance?”

“Appreciate it, Kent,” I repeated. “You’re terrifyingly competent and mildly scary, as always.”

She smirked, swivelling back towards the monitors. “Acceptable. I’ll let it slide this time.”

Callen leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his grin as wide as ever. “Still letting her bully you, huh? I thought you were supposed to be the one running this one.”

“As if Kent doesn’t pull every string in the ITU,” I shot back, gesturing to the screen. “Unlike you, she doesn’t need to play to the crowd to be useful.” My lips twisted into a smirk, so grateful I had a boss, or technically my boss’s boss, who played like one of the team.

Callen clutched his chest in mock outrage. “I provide morale, thank you very much. The glue that holds this whole circus together. And I’m absolutely telling Lucas you said Kent’s the not-so-secret boss around here.”

Kent raised an eyebrow, still tapping away at her keyboard. “You’re more like the glitter that gets everywhere and doesn’t wash out. Annoying, but we’ve learned to live with it.”

“Harsh but fair,” Callen conceded, turning to Waru. “And you must be the chef. Heard a lot about you. Mostly that you’ve managed to put up with Chris longer than most people can handle.”

Waru blinked, glancing between us. “Uh, yeah. Waru.”

“Welcome to the chaos.” Callen’s grin turned mischievous. “Don’t let Kent scare you. She only bites if you touch her snacks.”

“That’s not true,” Kent said without looking up. “I bite if you touch my snacks, my gear, or my chair.”

“Duly noted,” Waru said, his lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.

Callen glanced at me, his expression briefly softening before he slipped back into leader mode. “What’s our next move?”

“Kent’s already on it,” I said, deferring to her expertise.

“Already on it, and I dug so deep that I hit secrets so buried, they probably had their own postcode. Workshop’s flagged as a Kole asset.” Her words were so nonchalant, I almost missed them.

“For real?”

She shot me a deadpan look, not even bothering to arch a brow at me.

“Fair,” I mumbled, shifting a little uncomfortably as Waru’s gaze ping-ponged between the three of us. In all honesty, I half expected Callen to ask Waru to leave, not that I was going to draw his attention to the fact I still sat here, clutching my panther’s hand.

“Good. Anything actionable yet, Kent?”

She swivelled back to the monitors, pulling up a blueprint of the workshop on the main screen. “I’ve mapped potential weak points for entry, in case Chris wants to play King of the Jungle again. Just tell me you’re not planning to shred another set of gear. I’m not the quartermaster.”

“Noted,” I said, ignoring Callen’s amused snort.

“I think the workshop is a dead end, though. All it’s confirmed is a connection between stalkerboy and Kole. What we need to know is why he infiltrated Waru’s restaurant and why he took off with Waru when Chris arrived at the scene.”

“Perfect,” Callen said, his tone light but his gaze sharp as a blade. He clapped his hands once. “Kent, keep eyes on the feeds. Chris, stick with Waru and stay alert. I’ll take the lead in the interrogation.”

Waru’s eyes darted between us, his brow furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of the whirlwind of activity and Callen’s almost-casual confidence.

“Relax, chef,” Callen said with a crooked grin. “This is how we get things done—looks like chaos, but it works. Promise.”

“Looks like chaos because it is chaos,” Kent muttered, never glancing away from her screens. “And it works because I’m here to stop it from imploding.”

Callen gave a mock-offended scoff, but his grin only widened. “What can I say? I thrive under pressure.” He turned to me. “And apparently, my ability to sweet-talk answers out of people has earned me the job tonight. You’ll see why. Or maybe you won’t, since most of it’s classified.”

Waru blinked, and I had to bite back a smirk at the mix of curiosity and exasperation on his face. Callen thrived on this energy—the confidence, the mystery, the control. It was why he had the job despite his tendency to colour outside the lines.