Federal Paranormal Agency 6 - Leannan (2 page)

“This mission is top secret. The five of us are the only people who know all the details, and I expect it to stay that way.” Lionel looked at each of the men in attendance, sternly. When Lionel’s eyes landed on Toby, he nodded in agreement.

Griffeth walked toward Bruno’s desk. He flicked his fingers, opening his briefcase, and pulled out a thick manila envelope. He paused for a
moment
as if weighing his options before finally turning on his heel and strolling over to Toby. He held out the envelope, and Toby took it.

“Take the night to study all the intel we’ve gathered on Duncan Ó Branagáin. You need to know him in order to gain his trust. I’ll be back in the morning with your new identity. Meet us here at zero seven hundred hours. You leave for Ireland tomorrow. Be ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

The three agents—Griffeth Moor, Conall Lìos, and Lionel Palmer—shook hands with Bruno before making a quick exit. Once they were gone, Bruno took a seat behind his massive oak desk. The bear shifter leaned back. He appeared calm and relaxed, but after years of knowing the leader of the FPA, Toby knew the man was agitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Because of this case?” Toby asked, walking toward Bruno. He placed the folder on the desk before dropping down in one of the available chairs.

Warm brown eyes connected with his. “You’re only eighteen, a mere child in the grand scheme of things.
Taking
this case is incredibly dangerous. You’ll be going on a mission, alone. We won’t be there to back you up. I feel like I’m sending my son into danger. If something happens to you…”

“My entire fox skulk was wiped out by a rogue,” Toby interrupted. “I saw them all get slaughtered, torn to bits and pieces. You and the other agents, you guys are my family, but I’m still an
agent
. I’ve been training for this mission since the day I arrived here. I may only be eighteen, but I’m ready. You wouldn’t have given me a badge and a gun unless you knew that I was capable of handling myself in the field. My past is behind me. I’m not that scared little boy anymore.”

Bruno sighed. “I’m still going to worry about you.”

Toby’s lips twitched. “I know.”

“If you find yourself in a bind, call me. I’ve got some connections, and I’ll get you out. I don’t give a fuck what those other agents say. You’re in the FPA. We don’t work for them.”

“Yes, sir.” Toby chuckled.

“Good luck, kid.” Bruno stood up and held out his hand.

All the agents called him
kid
.
He’d been with them long enough to know that it was a term of endearment.

Standing up, Toby took his boss’s hand. “Thanks.”

“You’d better head back home and get to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Toby grabbed the manila envelope. Holding it in a tight grip, he left Bruno’s office without a backward glance.

Toby left FPA headquarters. Retrieving his white Range Rover Evoque from the parking garage, he drove toward the agency’s mansion in the Hollywood Hills. He stopped at the bottom of the hill and looked toward the camera. After a moment, the locks disengaged and the gate opened, welcoming him home. Toby drove along the
private stone driveway leading to their estate on nearly four acres of land. The beautifully landscaped property was not only set up for
privacy
but also security. It was impossible for anyone to get near their home without being detected.

Pulling up in front of the house, Toby shut the engine off and grabbed the manila envelope off the passenger seat. He climbed out of the SUV and strode toward the front entrance.

Graham Bingham, one of the other FPA agents, opened the door with a grin. “Hey, kid. How did the meeting go?”

“I got my first case.”

“That’s great news!”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to share the details?” he asked, raising a questioning brow.

“I can’t.” Toby cringed. “It’s top secret.”

Graham slapped his shoulder. “No worries, just be careful out in the field, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

Toby passed the other agent and jogged up the stairs leading to his bedroom. He walked down the short hallway to the last door on the right. Turning the knob, Toby slipped inside and closed the door, flicking the lock into place. He didn’t like keeping secrets from the other agents, but sometimes it was part of the job. Toby took off his jacket and threw it
on
the nearest flat surface. Toeing off his shoes, he walked to his bed and sat down on the edge.

Flipping up the metal teeth, he opened the envelope and pulled out the contents, spreading the papers out.
Duncan Ó Branagáin
.

The picture on top of the pile grabbed Toby’s attention, and his eyes widened in astonishment. He lifted the image, holding it in his hand.
Duncan.
Dressed in an expensive suit, the man looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of
GQ
magazine, tall, dark, and incredibly handsome with intense blue eyes. He was all hard angles and fierce planes, clearly as dangerous as he was beautiful. And worst of all, Duncan was every fantasy Toby had ever dreamed. He was the perfect combination of Michael Fassbender and Tom Hardy.

“Fuck,” he breathed out.

Forcing himself to drop the picture of Duncan, Toby quickly flipped through the documents until he found a stack of photographs. Studying the images, Toby realized that the other agents had been right. He did share similar features with Duncan’s former lovers. They were all young with boyish good looks and lean muscles. After studying the other men for a few minutes, Toby dropped the pictures back onto the bed and stood up.

He walked into the adjoining bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror, inspecting himself. He’d never thought much about his appearance before, but now, Toby took the time to judge himself. What would Duncan think of him? Were his lips too plump? Did he look too young? Would his features be considered feminine? Toby shrugged. It didn’t really matter. He was bait, plain and simple. Toby was going undercover to charm Duncan in order to send him to prison. His looks were of little consequence.

“Hi, I’m Thomas Doyle.” Toby cleared his throat. He stood up straight, squaring his shoulders. “I’m Thomas, but my friends call me Tommy.” Shaking his head, Toby decided he didn’t want to be called Tommy. It made him sound as if he were a child. “Thomas. I’m Thomas Doyle. I’m visiting from the States.”

He repeated the mantra over and over
again
until he actually started to believe that he was Thomas Doyle, a human college student visiting Ireland from the States. He was no longer Toby Winters.

Thomas grabbed his backpack from under the seat in front of him. He stood in one fluid motion, throwing the straps over his shoulders and cinching them tight. Stepping into the aisle along with the other passengers, Thomas slowly shuffled his feet as he moved toward the front of the aircraft. The
fourteen-hour
flight had left him feeling grimy and sleep deprived. He hadn’t been able to relax enough to fall asleep, not in such tight quarters. It seemed that the federal government couldn’t even spring for a decent seat.

When he finally stepped off the plane and into the terminal, Thomas gave a sigh of relief.

Lifting his arms above his head, Thomas stretched out his back, and his joints cracked. He looked around, his eyes bouncing off all the signs littering the terminal. Thomas started walking toward the lines at customs. He pulled his passport out of his back pocket and opened it, checking out the picture. The documents in his possession were damn good. They weren’t forgeries. They were authentic.

Flipping through the pages, he admired all the stamps as the line inched forward one baby step at a time. When he reached the bold yellow line on the linoleum floor, Thomas paused, waiting his turn. After a couple of minutes, he was waved over by one of the officers. He handed the man his passport and waited as he checked it out.

“Name?”

“Thomas Doyle.”

“What’s the purpose of your visit?”

“I’m on vacation,” Thomas said.

“How long are you planning to stay?”

“Two weeks.”

Thomas kept his answers brief and concise, his stance relaxed and casual. The customs agent stamped his book, waving him away. He collected his passport and left, shoving it back into his pocket. Thomas moved through the crowd, getting lost within the waves of people as he strode toward the exit.

Stepping outside, Thomas pulled the hood up on his sweatshirt, covering his head, and zipped up the front. The sky was gray and cloudy, a thin layer of drizzle raining down. He ducked his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. Thomas started walking, leaving the Belfast International Airport behind. He was tempted to take a cab, but he didn’t have a lot of cash, and Thomas didn’t want to waste it on a ride when he would need a roof over his head.

Why couldn’t he be an independently wealthy playboy? Thomas chuckled lightly, pushing the thought away. There wasn’t time to dream. He needed to stay focused on this mission. Getting Duncan’s attention was his number one priority. The man gravitated toward young men who were needy and vulnerable. He wanted to be a knight in shining armor or, more appropriately, a knight in Armani.

When his cell phone started ringing, Thomas ducked under an overhang. He pulled his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped it, searching for the device.
Dad
flashed across the screen, and his heart clenched at the memory of his own father. Clicking the talk button, Thomas held the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How was your flight, son?”

He recognized the voice right away. It was
Lionel Palmer, the FBI agent, posing as a concerned parent.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Thomas muttered, “Coach sucks.”

Lionel chuckled. “I was just calling to make sure you made it there in one piece. If you need anything, give me a call.”

“Thanks, Dad, I will.” Ending the call, Thomas buried the phone inside his backpack.

If you need anything?
Code for “if you get any leads on Duncan Ó Branagáin, give us a call.” They’d swoop in and take care of business. Otherwise, he was on his own.

“Fuck this,” he grumbled.

The rain and the phone call soured his mood.

Thomas didn’t have a lot of cash, but with the weather getting worse, he realized that he didn’t have many options. Stepping out from under the overhang, he strode toward the curb and lifted his arm, hailing a cab. A vehicle pulled to the curb, and Thomas opened the back door, climbing inside. Warmth instantly surrounded him.

He rattled off the street name, not giving the driver his exact location. Keeping his face out of the rearview mirror, Thomas ducked down, pretending to be invisible as he stared out the window. The rain pounded down against the vehicle, fat droplets running along the glass, as the car sped down the street. When the car came to a stop at the corner of the street, Thomas handed off a few bills before stepping out of the car. He waited for the cab to pull away before he started walking down the sidewalk.

The rain continued to pour down, soaking through his clothing as he made his way toward the end of the block.

Thomas paused out front of his destination, a pub owned by Duncan. From the outside, the pub didn’t feel very inviting. In fact, the brick and mortar building appeared
unfriendly and cold, telling all those who passed to stay away.
Large black letters prominently displayed across the top of the cement building read The Temple, with an intricate Celtic design on each side. Lifting an arm, Thomas wiped off his face, but it was useless. He was a soggy mess.

He took a step toward the main
entrance
but stopped suddenly when he heard a soft whine, followed by a series of whimpering cries. Thomas walked toward the sound, around the side of the building. As the sky darkened, the only thing Thomas could spot was a line of dumpsters. There weren’t any lights illuminating the alleyway, but with his supernatural senses, Thomas could see clearly. He stepped over a few broken beer bottles, discarded cigarette butts, and trash. The sad little noises grew louder as he walked closer. Kneeling down, Thomas peeked between two large metal bins and found the source.

“
Hey,
there
little guy.” He kept his tone sugary sweet, coaxing the chunky little puppy to come to him.

The fur ball didn’t hesitate for even a moment. He jumped into Thomas’s arms, licking his face and wagging his tail. Thomas couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

“What are you doing out here?” A deep, Irish brogue washed over him, sending a jolt through Thomas.

Thomas jerked his head up. He slowly rose, holding the puppy against his chest. The side door was propped open, and Duncan was standing
in
the threshold. Thomas had been so focused on rescuing the animal that he didn’t even hear the man’s approach. His mouth dropped open, excitement warring with uncertainty. The man was wearing a suit, and truth
be
told, he looked even better in person.

“I–I heard a noise.” Thomas used a small voice, shrinking back.

Duncan stared at him, the man’s intense eyes searching, studying. “Come inside.”

“But…” Thomas’s looked down at the puppy. He couldn’t leave the helpless little creature outside in the cold all alone.

“You can bring the little beast.”

Duncan stepped back, creating enough space for Thomas to pass. Thomas pulled his lower lip into his mouth, gently biting down on the flesh. He took a moment to think about his situation. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on meeting the notorious
Duncan Ó Branagáin, but it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.