“You’re such an ass hat. I’m still excited you’re here, but once the novelty wears off, I’ll be sure to tell you to bite me.”
Dex chuckled and gave his baby brother’s cheek a pat. “I’m glad I’m here too.”
“All right, break it up,” Tony grunted, though Dex could tell he was holding back a smile. “Tender moment’s over. Cael, get your ass back to Sparta.”
“Yes, sir.” With a wink at Dex, Cael sprinted off.
“What’s Sparta, and please tell me there are guys in togas,” Dex said, putting his hands together in prayer.
“No. It’s the training facility. It’s nicknamed Sparta, less for the guys in togas and more for kicking your ass until you’re ready for battle.” Tony walked off and Dex quickly followed. Getting to work with his family almost made everything he’d endured worthwhile. Almost. “Did you go through your induction packet?”
“Yep.” It was a good thing the files had been digital or they would have killed off a small forest printing the thing out. It had contained information on everything from Therian law to THIRDS policies on agent conduct. There had even been a section on stinky food at the workplace.
“There are several THIRDS’ field offices throughout Manhattan, including offices for specialized operations, but you’ll be working out of the Manhattan Division’s HQ. There are three main departments in this division—Intel, Recon, and Defense—with a total of eight thousand employees. Each department is broken up into four units—Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Omega. Units Alpha and Beta handle major crimes, with Alpha taking on the more violent crimes. Delta and Omega handle lesser crimes. Each unit is then broken up into squads, or teams. There are ten squads in your unit.”
Tony led him through the pristine Art Deco main lobby, and for a moment, Dex could have fooled himself into thinking they were at Grand Central Station during rush hour. Everyone walked and talked with purpose, as if whatever they were doing or saying was of the greatest importance. In the center of the lobby, high above the extensive marble reception desk, the THIRDS’ shield hung proudly, the double helix shaped into a circle with an atom symbol in the center representing the connection between Humans and Therians. This was it. The big leagues.
They turned a corner toward a wide corridor filled with gleaming gold elevators, and Tony stopped at one situated at the end. Dex was pleasantly surprised when the gold doors opened on their own as soon as they stepped up to them. With a grin, Tony pointed at the floor.
“Motion sensors.”
Inside, Dex watched Tony press his hand to a sleek black panel with a blue line outlining a handprint. When he removed it, his image flashed, along with his name and a whole load of other information including clearance levels. Before Dex had a chance to work any of it out, Tony pressed the blue glowing “A” button on the gold pa
nel and they were off. If the elevator was anything to go by, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the rest of the shiny gadgets the THIRDS had to offer.
“Uniform fits.”
Dex looked down at himself. “Yeah. It’s weird being back in uniform, though this one’s much more badass than my old HPF one.” He wore black military grade boots, heavy-duty tactical pants in a deep, charcoal gray with tourniquets built into each upper leg, pockets for slip-in ballistic pads and a padded adjustable waistband for added comfort. Secured from his utility belt were several pouches, along with a quick-release, detachable thigh rig with a Drop & Offset kit containing two ballistic nylon tension straps fastened around his leg. It had a holster with a self-locking system to prevent anyone from removing the Glock 17 tucked away inside. On the same thigh rig was a tactical knife. Over his black undershirt, he wore a heavy-duty shirt matching his pants in color with two patches on one arm—one for the THIRDS NYC Division and one for Unit Alpha, Destructive Delta—and on his right arm, the THIRDS shield. Over his left breast pocket, THIRDS was stitched in white letters, and, similarly stitched over his right breast pocket, was D. Daley. Clipped to his belt was his shiny new badge, lucky 2108. Overall, it was pretty damn sexy.
“I’m sorry about Lou.”
That was not sexy. “Me too,” Dex grumbled. It had been nearly a month and the sharp pain in his heart had downgraded to a dull ache, mostly because after a good deal of thought, he came to the conclusion Lou had been right. They’d been heading down that road a long time ago. Even so, when he thought of Lou being gone, he was hit with a sense of sadness, and in the beginning, he’d really missed him. The morning after an exceptionally pathetic night of sitting on his couch in nothing but his boxers, drinking himself stupid, he thanked God he’d had the foresight to delete Lou’s number from his phone. He knew himself too well, and the last thing he needed was to send his ex a bunch of whimpering drunken texts or, heaven forbid, voice mails. What did it say about their relationship that he never memorized his ex-boyfriend’s number?
His dad’s gruff voice interrupted his pitiful thoughts. “Can I be frank?”
“Sure. Can I be beans?” Without even having to look up, Dex knew what his dad was doing. “Stop. You know how I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?” Tony grunted.
“Do that puckered ass thing with your lips.”
“And you know all about puckered asses.”
Dex arched an eyebrow at his dad. “You know, at times I wonder who the grown-up is here.”
The elevator pinged and they exited into a long white hall with dark gray flooring. “And I wonder if you’ve lost more than a few marbles. Like the entire bag.”
“Fine. Go for it.”
“He wasn’t the one.”
Dex was at a loss for words. Tony had never mentioned anything before. Then again, he wasn’t the sort to meddle in his kids’ lives, unless they did something that called for meddling, then he was a heavyweight champion. In their teens, Cael and Dex had created a superhero persona for him, known as The Meddler.
Not sure he wanted to know the answer, but feeling the need to, Dex cleared his throat and asked, “What makes you say that?”
“Whose idea was it to be exclusive?” Tony came to a halt, his beefy arms folded over his broad chest as he faced Dex. Damn it. The stubborn set of his jaw and furrowed brow told Dex he couldn’t joke his way out of this one.
“His, but I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t ready.”