Lupi 04 - Night Season by authors_sort

polite. “First you’d better search for some damned brains. I’ll help. Bend over.”
    â€œSorry, sir,” said the first asshole, lying like a politician. “Orders. You’re lupus. We have to search you before you can go any farther.”
    This was a perfect opportunity. All he had to do was exactly what he wanted—tell them to admit him immediately or else explain to their superiors why he’d left. They wouldn’t back down. He could tell. They’d refuse to let him pass and he could leave.
    Problem was, the bastards would think they’d won…and he’d told Rule he would do this. If he didn’t follow through, he made himself a liar. Which he was, of course, when necessary. Lying was a fine and useful skill, one he’d honed well over the years. But he didn’t lie to friends. He might occasionally forget to mention this or that, but he didn’t lie to them.
    So that was out.
    Maybe he should just clobber these assholes and look for Lily on his own. An appealing notion…not smart, but definitely appealing. “First, I was asked to come here. Second, I’ve already been patted down, just before they issued me this nifty little badge that’s supposed to admit me everywhere but the executive washroom.”
    â€œYes, sir,” said Asshole Number Two, who was enjoying himself. “But we have to conduct a more thorough search.”
    Cullen asked very sweetly, “Are you by any chance talking about a strip search?”
    The first asshole wasn’t as dumb as he looked. He took a quick, involuntary step back.
    â€œBecause if you are, you should know that I strip for a living. If you want me to take my clothes off, it will cost you.”
    â€œYou can start with those crutches.” Asshole Number Two smiled a tight, smug smile. “Hand them over.”
    Cullen’s fingertips itched. It would be easy to singe that smirk right off the man’s pudgy face. “I’m missing my foot, and you want to take away my crutches.”
    â€œThey might be used as weapons.”
    Cullen nodded thoughtfully. He’d better do what the man said, hadn’t he? One crutch would go to Asshole Number Two—a head shot, he thought. Clip him across the front of the skull, which shouldn’t do any lasting damage as long as Cullen minded his strength. The other would go in the stomach of Asshole Number One, who wasn’t quite as much of a prick.
    One of the doors behind the assholes opened and a little over five feet of slender Asian woman emerged. “Chill, Cullen.”
    He spun to glare at her. “Did you tell this pair of shit-for-brains to strip-search me?”
    Lily’s eyebrows went up. She inspected the two guards, settling with admirable instinct on Asshole Number Two. “That your idea, ah…”
    â€œBaxter,” he said, still smirking. He really wasn’t very smart. “And I’m following orders.”
    â€œWhose? No, never mind.” She spoke over her shoulder to someone on the other side of the doorway. “Ruben, I’d like to bring Cullen in before he burns someone. Could you clear him?”
    The whirr of a motorized wheelchair preceded the man she’d spoken to. Cullen’s curiosity shot up, eclipsing his temper for the moment. He’d met the head of the secretive Unit 12 once, but he’d been blind at the time. He knew how Ruben Brooks smelled, the sound of his voice, but not what he looked like.
    Gaunt, erect, and with a beak of a nose, it turned out. Brooks’s navy suit was beautifully tailored; his tie, silk—and knotted with all the clumsy disinterest of a five-year-old. His shoes were polished; his socks, brown. Those details said “married” to Cullen, though he supposed it was possible the man’s style-conscious partner belonged to his own sex.
    A quick glance at Brooks’s left hand found a gold ring, giving weight to the married