If you see some funny spelling, it's because this computer insists on spelling things the Canadian way…and I can't get it to cooperate.

Chapter 28

Doug would have liked nothing better than to punch the detective's lights out. He would have loved to work out his aggressions. He settled for pushing the detective up against the car in a threatening manner. The resounding display of expletives was honey to his ears. His anger had been building over the last few weeks and was threatening to explode. Right at that moment, the fury consuming him would have loved to do as much damage as possible. But his conscience put him in check.

For a moment, Doug was scared of himself. He was scared of what would have happened if he didn't get in control of his anger. He was not this kind of person. He could control himself.

"You'll want to let go of me right about now," the detective snapped.

"Give me a good reason," Doug ground out.

"You're walking on very dangerous ground," Tross replied, his hawk-like eyes flashing at being manhandled in such a way. His bony chin jutted out in a stubborn and defying gesture. "It looks as though you're threatening me. If any one of those officers were to turn around…you'd pay in years. Behind bars, Doug. That law doesn't look lightly on threatening police officers."

Doug's hand dropped from the front of Tross's shirt. The man had a point. Doug had really been slipping lately. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Well—he did know what was wrong with him. Tross was wrong with him. Leigh was wrong with him. However, that didn't warrant such rash behaviour.

The dark look didn't drop from his face.

Tross wiped off the front of his uniform where Doug had left smudge marks. His fingers were covered in a dark ash from the burning house. Doug wiped his hands on his pant legs, leaving streaks.

"Now perhaps you can tell me what your beef is," The detective said, obviously refusing to believe that he had any effect on Doug's state of mind. The man was insufferable sometimes.

"How about the fact that you went and spilled all that information in front of the reporters?" Doug asked. "Well? Are you going to take any responsibility for that?"

"What did you expect me to do?" The detective snapped. "I came back to find the friggin' station broken into! Did you think I would just say 'well, golly gee, I think someone broke into my station. How lovely!'? Well that's not what I said. You're as much to blame for my behaviour as I am!"

Doug snorted, waving his hands wildly at what remained of the house. "Well, look what you've caused! You tipped him off! And now a man is dead because of you! Because you couldn't keep your mouth shut!"

"Tipped who off?" The detective asked inquisitively.

"Oh no!" Doug replied. "You've caused enough problems! If you think I'm going to give you another chance to open a can of worms, you're mistaken. This is our fight and you're going to stay out of it!"

The detective folded his arms across his chest and gave Doug a long surveying glance. "You seem to be doing so well at holding the boat up by yourself," he said sarcastically, taking a look at the people behind Doug who were still protesting in loud voices. "It sounds like you've lost most of your support. Maybe it's about time you turned what you know over to the professionals."

"I don't need professionals," Doug replied. "The professionals don't have a clue!"

"Well maybe we would if you'd give us some kind of idea. Doug, we may not have always gotten along in the past, but I am a police officer. I'm willing to do my duty to keep innocent people safe—wolf or human."

"I don't need help," Doug insisted stubbornly. He knew he was probably making another bad judgement call, but at the moment he really didn't care. "But there is something I need."

The detective eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"Get in the car," Doug said. He moved over to the passenger side before the man had a chance to react. He hopped inside just as the detective let out a retort. Tross didn't like being ordered to do anything. Doug had learned that about him early on. The officer got off on his power trip. But Doug didn't particularly care to walk on egg shells around the detective's delicate feelings. In fact, he was more apt to aggravate them at the moment.

Doug sat inside and slammed the door behind him. He waited for a total of about thirty seconds for the man who was standing outside with his hands on his hips. Doug was prepared to wait all day if he had to. But the detective gave up. He opened the opposite door and stuffed himself into the driver's seat, his gut flopping about as he moved with sharp and angry movements.

Tross slammed his door as well and turned a pair of hawk eyes in Doug's direction. "Now how about you tell me what you want?" Tross snapped. "And then I want you to get your butt out of my car before I decide to charge you for threatening me."

"You're not the one who'll be doing the negotiating," Doug replied. "I will. And I want equipment. I want bullet proof vests, I want guns, and I want you to get hold of some insulated rubber suits. And more importantly, I want some explosives. You got that?"

The detectives' eyes goggled. "And who do you think you are…ordering me? If you want some rubber suits, why didn't you just go to a construction company? Oh, I know! Because you didn't have enough money to pay for them so you just thought you could order the police around. And how exactly are you planning to use the suits anyway? Are you getting involved with electricity?"

"That's none of your concern," Doug replied. "Just get the equipment together and get it to me. I need it by noon tomorrow at the latest. I need to get a move on before we're attacked again."

"You've got guts, ordering me around," the detective pointed out, folding his arms across his chest. He sent another inquisitive glance in Doug's direction. "But do you have anything to back you up or are you just spewing hot air? Because I don't give a crap if you want equipment. If I'm going to be giving up equipment—and I'm not saying I will because I could get my butt fired for doing so—then you better friggin' well give me a part in this operation."

"Why?" Doug smirked. "So that you can get another promotion?"

"What dirt do you have on me?" The detective replied with a sigh. "Because we both know you're not an idiot. You wouldn't be asking for equipment if you didn't have some way to back up your threat."

Doug rolled his eyes and muttered. "Good to know you finally figured that out."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was starting to sound like Grady. He needed to get a handle on himself before he said or did anything too rash.

"Doug? Out with it our get out of my dang car!"

Doug opened his eyes and looked at the furious detective. He thought he had enough calm now to keep the situation under control. "You released information on me to the press," Doug stated. "Information in conjunction with a crime that I haven't been formally accused of."

He let the words rest for a moment.

The detective's eyes widened. "You wouldn't…" he whispered.

"I would," Doug replied. "And I will if you don't give me that equipment. I will sue you for libel. Forget that, I'll sue the whole dang station. And then where will your job be?"

The detective closed his eyes and let of a long breath. "You know I hate you, don't you?"

Doug only shrugged. "How do you think Leigh felt when you threatened to use her drug use against her? What comes around goes around."

Thinking of Leigh kicked up a mess of bitter emotions in his stomach. He couldn't seem to forget the last words she said to him. They swirled around in his mind, haunting him. But this wasn't the time to be thinking about Leigh. He had a job to do—and darn her anyway. No matter what he said, she'd hate him. She was determined to believe that he was the one in the wrong. And after she had seen his mind. She knew what he was like and she was still willing to believe the worst of him. The accusations hurt more than he thought they could.

He pushed these thoughts away and turned back to the situation at hand.

The detective sighed. "You win."

Doug nodded. "Good. And you'll have the equipment to me by noon tomorrow."

"I'll have the equipment to you." The detective was slowly rubbing his eyes, looking tired. His shoulders had slumped—the fight all but gone from him. He added. "But Doug, I really wish you'd let me come along. I'm probably going to get my butt fired whether I help you or not. At least this way I can protect my investment."

"I'm sorry," Doug shook his head. Looking at the detective, he almost felt sorry for him. He knew that Tross' job was very likely going to go down the drain. But he had more important things to worry about than one man's job. "But I can't trust you. Your loyalty doesn't lie with the werewolves. It lies with the station and its policies."

The detective just shook his head looking so lost.

Doug couldn't say that he liked the detective. He never had. But at that moment, he was being sincere when he said, "I hope you don't lose your job. I'll get out of your car now."

Doug stepped back out into the noise, shutting the silence within.

Sorry. This chapter hasn't turned out as well as I would have liked. There's something missing, but I can't figure out what it is. I hope you like it anyway!