Cargo had never been a wolf Uncle Benny and Aunt V. hadn’t raised him that way. Coyotes were far more adaptable to city life. Able to slink in and out of shadows, scavenge for what they need and slip through the narrowest avenue to escape.

I have teeth push me further, he dared James. With an answering grin the blond huffed and whirled on his foot slinking back out the window.

That would just have to be good enough, Cargo thought. The man in the alley had already proven to Cargo the game was all at once larger than even first anticipated. Handling flame with your bare hands was a foolish endeavor.

Yet here Cargo was attacking an organization that was akin to touching dry ice without gloves. If this loophole went uncorrected he would get burned.

His fingers raced over the keys dancing over numbers and letters echoed by a capathothy of noise above. James handling their attackers no doubt.

Pleased he sat back and shook his hands out watching the lines write themselves as his code went to work.

He bit back a grin.

Love it when a plan comes together. The thumps above continued. Not very silent for an hit man. Just how had James been able to tail him for a week? Aunt V. would be ashamed.

Oh no. Oh, no, no. James had seen him dispose of the man. Therefore James must have been the one to give him the note in the Cafe. Cargo hadn’t disposed of the corpse. Like a green around the gills newbie he’d left the body there!

Not entirely problematic but the scene had been messy. Too messy to be easily overlooked. Whatever happened to the corpse? He’d managed to mostly wipe his dress shoes clean along with his glasses but what about tracks? What about the body itself?

The act had been so spur of the moment so freeing. He’d known they would eventually send someone for him but hadn’t expected this mugger like individual to be it. Cargo reached into his laptop bag and stuck the knife in the band of his pajama pants.

Instead of stemming their curiosity he’d ignited it. Shit.

Cargo raced back through his earlier conversation with James. Speak of the devil.

The blond dropped back into the room and easy smile on his face. “Mind if I use your sink?”

“By all means.” Cargo bit out. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” James slunk into the kitchen to wash his hands and lick wounds.

Cargo closed his computer and stood adjusting his glasses. The knife rested against his hip held by the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Water?” The blond asked the light of the fridge framing his face.

“Tea for me.” He considered and walked into the kitchen. The space was small and two people were hard pressed to fit without bumping into each other.

“Suit yourself.” James conceded and began fiddling with the stove Cargo watched him move about warily ready to slip his blade out. James shot him an unreadable look and pulled tea from the cupboard turning his back to Cargo.

”Might think twice before you try to make me a pin cushion.” Brown eyes met his once more then flickers to his close hand briefly before adjusting the kettle on the stove.

“Mhmm I have.” Cargo lied. He’d considered killing the man at least once and shelved the idea. His hands itched to grip the knife but threatening, that he wasn’t above. “Lucky for you the carpets new.”

“Lucky me.” The blond raised his eyebrow and glanced at the floor. “This is tile.”

“Exactly.” Cargo’s lips twitched and he took the mug down from the cabinet setting his back to the blond.

“Point taken.”

Wind blew through the window ruffling the curtains and they stared at each other over the counter tension only broken by the kettle’s scream.