by RJ Blain
“Daddy really will kill you if we skip town like that to get married.”
“We just won’t tell him.”
“But we can’t get married in two states.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s illegal.”
“That’s a pretty dumb rule,” I muttered.
“I’m sure seventy-four hours won’t kill us.” Sassy frowned. “Maybe. But it’d be seventy-four hours from tomorrow.”
I sighed and pointed at the door. “And we’d have to sneak past a pack of wolves to bail to town. It’s better just to wait.”
Sassy’s expression brightened. “But busting out from a bunch of wolves sounds like fun.”
“We can’t bail to town, Sassy. We need to hunt for this killer’s hire. However tempting, we need to prioritize. Dumping a wedding on your father’s lap is a little like revenge, too. He gets to foot the bill if you dump it on his lap.”
“Ah, the sweet, sweet taste of fiscal revenge,” she purred, dialing a number on her phone. “Oh, Daddy!”
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh.
“What? No, Daddy. Everything’s fine. Mostly. I need you to plan a wedding. Aaron won’t ditch town and go to New Mexico because he’s convinced you’ll kill him if we do. Huh? What? Oh. Okay. Hold on.” Sassy lowered the phone. “Daddy wants to know which town in New Mexico.”
“Hobbs.”
“Hobbs, Daddy. Are you nuts? You’re nuts. Okay. Fine.” Sassy hung up. “Daddy says, and I quote, ‘There ain’t no way in hell I’m paying to feed a first-shifter. You want to go to New Mexico? Fine. We’ll meet you there in the morning.’ I don’t think he wants to bother with planning a wedding, Aaron.”
What had happened to my quiet, almost normal life? Ah, right. Sassy’s father had socked me in the mouth, busted out my teeth, and given me the gift of lycanthropy. As I liked the end result, I swore I wouldn’t complain much. “Want to sneak past the wolves for fun?”
“Hell, yeah. Dinner, some sleep, and then a road trip?”
“I have no idea how we’re going to sneak past a bunch of wolves in my truck, but let’s call it a plan.”
As I’d known from the day I’d met her, I loved Sassy’s special brand of trouble and always would. Perfect worlds didn’t exist, but I’d hope nothing would change between us with the exception of superior sleeping arrangements and the inclusion of extracurricular activities she desired as much as I did.
The only thing I could do was work each and every day to never give her a reason to regret having picked me.
Chapter Thirteen
I longed to give Sassy’s father a whooping he’d never forget. Our plan to dive for my truck and run to the border ended with a knock at the door, and my brother, several of her brothers, Maxwell, Rob, and an assortment of wolves prowled outside waiting for us to let them in.
“Open the door, Aaron. I know you’re in there. I can hear you growling at me,” my brother said, and he pounded on the door.
“No. Go away. We’re busy.”
“Busy doing want? Eloping? Your elopement plans have been cancelled. We have a lead.”
Shit. Leads meant work, work meant a definite cancelling of elopement plans, and since Rob had joined the fray, it was a lead that might take us somewhere productive. “What sort of lead?”
“We have a potential list of targets, and we need you and Sassy to partner up with Maxwell and his partner to check into one of them. I’m going with another team to keep an eye on Sharon Gray. We’ve got three other teams, each partnered with some lycanthropes, to keep an eye on the others.”
Shit, shit, shit. I unlocked and opened the door. “Where are they, and how long do we have to get into position?”
“With how this bastard is operating, we’re not sure,” Maxwell admitted, leading the charge and invading the house. “We’re on the least likely of the targets since you’re close to your first shift?”
“According to Grover’s meter, yeah.” I shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“We’ll make do. We keep a stock of neutralizer in the trunk for emergencies, so we can do any cleanup required, and if it’s bad enough, I can call in the CDC. Sassy, you think you can keep him in line if he shifts?”
Sassy snorted. “I weigh eighty pounds on a good day, Maxwell. He’ll probably be able to drag me around without thinking about it when he shifts. Most lycanthrope cheetahs weigh in closer to two hundred. I can occupy him with my feminine charms, but that’s the best I can promise.”
“Just wear nice shoes,” Maxwell muttered.
“As a cheetah? You’re nuts. I’d snap my neck trying. Also, I don’t have four of the same shoe, and I refuse to wear mismatched shoes. Absolutely not.”
“Now’s not the time for jokes,” Rob snapped.
“Now’s the perfect time for jokes.” Joe shoved the DA out of the way and cuffed the back of my head hard enough I yelped. “That’s for sleeping with my sister.”
Idiot. “You told me to!”
“You could have at least made her chase you for a day or two. What sort of cheetah male are you?”
“A happy one,” Sassy announced, kicking her brother in the shin. “Stop bothering Aaron. And yes, he most certainly did sleep with your sister, and I have it on the best authority she liked it.”
Lycanthropes. Was nothing sacred or private among them? Right. No. I was a fool to even hope for that.
My brother sighed. “Too much information, Sassy.”
“No. There’s a bunch of unmated males here. Absolutely not too much information. I have to make it clear he’s mated. To me. Or the unmated males will bother me. And if an unmated female tries anything, it will not end well for her. He’s mine.”
“The unmated males here are either your brothers or the wrong species,” I reminded her.
“You’re still mine.”
“I’m not disputing that. I’m just saying the unmated males here are either your brothers or the wrong species. We’ll be working, so you won’t have to worry about anyone getting any ideas. If time allows, we’ll get a license while we’re out.”
“Possible but unlikely,” Maxwell admitted. “We’ll see what we can do, but we have reason to believe the killer will probably start another wave of killings soon.”
“How many potential victims do we have, how did you find the leads, and what can we do about it? These guys are professionals.”
“Guys is plural,” Rob said, his eyes narrowing.
Grover sighed. “You’re a bastard, Aaron.”
“You give me information, you should expect me to use the information. That’s how this works. If that information gives us the edge we need to stop the next killing and find the hire, I’m going to use the information.”
Joe and Mark glared at the wolf, and my future brother-in-law and new doctor growled, “You told him about the mercenary company?”
“Joe, his virus is spiking to hell. Sassy could sneak up behind him, blow on his ear, and quite possibly induce his first shift. He’s so wired to protect kids if I didn’t tell him he’d run an even higher risk of snapping. If I didn’t know better, I’d say a wolf had initially infected him despite him having most behaviors of a cheetah. He’s not stupid. He’s already figured out it’s a professional outfit. He needs to go in knowing exactly what sort of outfit it is. These guys don’t want to be caught, but they sure as hell want their hire to rot in hell. They made it just hard enough to link the clues together to make it clear they couldn’t betray their contract. It’s the same method in a different way. They’re spelling out the coordinates for us, and I’d be a fool to ignore the similarities in those cases.”
“What are you talking about?” Rob demanded.
“A few years back, a group of terrorists hired a mercenary group to take out military doctors. The mercenaries didn’t like it, so they left clues. We never caught the mercenaries, but this is very similar to how they operated,” Grover explained.
“Copycat?”
“T
he assassinations were never publicized, and it never hit public channels. It’s very unlikely. We wiped out the entire terrorist cell after we got the coordinates from the mercenary group. This is one way these outfits operate, Rob. The ethical ones backstab their hires when they cross a line. Targeting doctors and kids? That’s crossing a line for them. Women, children, and support staff are among those they don’t want to target. They’ll do the job to the letter, but they’ll find some way to get revenge.”
Rob’s expression darkened. “Probability of catching the mercenaries?”
“Near to zero. We’ll have to find the hire. If the hire—and the money—dries up, if it’s this group, the killings will stop. Death of the hire typically nullifies the rest of the contract.”
Rob spat curses. “Are you seriously telling me we won’t be able to get them?”
Joe sighed and bowed his head. “They’re using high-grade magic to pull these off, Rob. I already evaluated Aaron’s memories. With these guys, nothing is as it seems. The white truck, for example.”
“Red with produce. Yeah, we’ve been working that lead. We found the truck,” the DA announced.
“You did? Where?”
“At the bottom of Lake Ray Hubbard. Only evidence we have is some paint transfer and scratches confirming the truck was the same one used to crash your truck, Aaron. It’s a useless find. They left no other evidence. Police can’t find jack shit, the FBI can’t find jack shit, and the CDC brought in some specialists trying to find something, and they can’t find jack shit, either. We even hired an angel. Whatever the fuck they’re doing, it’s strong enough not even an angel can pierce the illusions to get anything useful. There was one humanoid in the vehicle.”
My mouth dropped open. “An angel couldn’t get anything?”
“We might try asking for an archangel, but we doubt we’ll get one. They don’t like to meddle at all. We’re at another dead end. The best we have is speculation from ancient newspaper articles.”
“Featuring images of Tom Heatherow in the background?” I guessed.
“Bingo. What we can’t figure out is if someone is framing Tom Heatherow, or if he’s the one behind this.”
And with his child a victim, I understood why Rob wouldn’t act until he had no doubt of who was behind the murders. When he did, it’d become personal.
Justice would be served, and when it came time for justice to be served, I doubted Robert Allamant would be happy with the results. No, I knew he wouldn’t be. Perhaps he hadn’t been a large part of his son’s life, but he’d always seemed like a family man to me. A father would never be satisfied with jail time or even death. Neither would bring back his son.
“Who do we have as possible victims?” I demanded.
Rob’s expression turned neutral, but something about his eyes warned me the man grieved. “Sharon Gray is our top concern, but we suspect Mark’s efforts to play her old lover might bear fruit. We’ve had some incidents around her, but they’ve lessened in frequency following Mark’s arrival. I came up with an idea that might work best at protecting her. Your brother and Miss Gray pretended like they were mourning the loss of their children, born in the appropriate age ranges. She’s played the part, and while we can’t confirm it’s working, there’s a good chance it might. They’ve been seen in public together, and they’ve been talking about trying again and doing better next time. Acting like parents who’ve lost their kids.”
I gave my brother my full attention. “Mark?”
“She’s one hell of a woman, and the local wolf packs are keeping someone with her at all times. She’s got more suitors than any one woman needs, but she’s having a great time. She understands she’s a potential target, but she doesn’t go out anywhere with her kids, who aren’t even aware they’re hers. She’s going to avoid them until this is resolved. If there aren’t any kids near her, we don’t think she’ll be targeted. They don’t care as long as the evidence of wrongdoing is gone, and they seem to be limiting the evidence of wrongdoing to actual kids produced, not his sexual dalliances. He was single at the time, and there’s nothing in the political rulebook stating single men can’t sleep around at leisure. It’s only when they sleep with married women it’s an issue.”
The more I learned, the more I wanted to take Tom Heatherow over to the Chetty house and let Sassy’s father handle the matter permanently with a little help from me. “And none of the women were married?”
Rob grunted. “Tom Heatherow seems to have been very careful to avoid sleeping with married women.”
“Political aspirations from the start?”
“It’s highly probable. He was involved with politics in some form or another since college. On the surface, he looks like an activist. The deeper I dig, the less I like his activities,” Rob admitted. “Still, this stinks of a setup. But who would set him up and why?”
“And why would he hire us to look into Sharon Gray unless he’s somehow involved with her? Mark’s idea he was hoping to find intel on Sharon and the possibility of children is sounding pretty plausible to me. I think we need to figure out why Sharon Gray is so damned important to Tom Heatherow that he’d pay us a fortune to get intel on her. Initially, I thought it was due to her relations with Senator Sterling, but that’s a questionable lead at best. Senator Sterling can handle his bedtime activities in the public eye just fine. Everything we provided on Senator Sterling isn’t going to do jack shit against the man in the court of public opinion. He treats his women well, men want to be him, and he doesn’t cross the wrong lines.”
Rob’s expression darkened. “In short, he’s a player but not a rapist.”
I could always trust Rob to get blunt when discussing sensitive issues. “Exactly.”
“That leads me to a very important question: do we have any actual evidence Tom Heatherow might be a player and a rapist? Because having a bunch of illegitimate but consenting children is a lot different from having a lot of children that are the product of rape.” Rob flexed his hands. “And the only people who know for certain are dead.”
“Except Sharon Gray.”
Rob sucked in a breath. “And if he raped her, it won’t matter if the kids are alive or dead. He’d want her gone to keep her from being able to testify against him.”
I loathed the idea. “That’s a strong possibility. Mark?”
“What?”
“We should go pay your new girlfriend a call, and if I go with you along with Sassy, she might talk to Sassy if she won’t talk to us.”
Sassy grimaced. “I’m not good at this sort of thing, Aaron. I’m really not.”
“Who is? You’re a lot of things, Sassy, but you’re the best friend anyone could have. If we want to get to the bottom of this, we need to find out what actually happened between Tom Heatherow and the victims, and you’re our best bet. Maxwell can come with us; however much as it disgusts me, he comes across as a fatherly figure. People just like him. Sharon can pick the best person to tell her story to, and we’ll get to the bottom of this and protect her.”
I just hoped we could get answers before more women and children lost their lives to a fatally flawed political system run by the worst sort of men seeking power over the majority.
While I thought it was a good idea to take Sassy to visit Sharon Gray, somehow, I’d gotten saddled with Maxwell and only Maxwell, and I got to ride in his personal vehicle because Sassy owned my truck and was going to pay one of the other potential victims a visit. Sharon Gray had met me before, and once I introduced myself as Mark’s brother, Mark thought she’d cooperate. With Maxwell playing the good cop in casual clothes, he thought we could get results.
Joe thought it’d be a good idea for Sassy and I to spend a few hours apart to encourage our viruses to bond better.
“This is not how I was planning for my day to go,” I informed Maxwell, buckling in and wishing I could hide in the bed of my truck and go with Sassy. “Am I the only person who thinks this is a recipe for disaster? According to Grover�
�s scanner, I’m going to shift soon.”
“It’s good to get you used to working with a partner who isn’t Sassy, and it’ll happen at times, especially once you have your first kid. She’ll need the time off, and you’ll need to rotate in as a temporary for people who can’t show up. And while I’m sure the local coalitions will love to kitten sit for you, she needs to be able to take time off to be a mother.”
That even Maxwell was planning my kids amused me, as while I hadn’t really put thought into having children, as long as they were with Sassy, I’d have as many as she wanted.
I foresaw needing a large house built ready to withstand a lot of kittens. I laughed. “I haven’t even gotten that far yet, Maxwell.”
“Of course not. Last week, you didn’t think you had a hope in hell of having Sassy to yourself. I told you. You two were made for each other from the start.”
“What do we have on Sharon Gray, Maxwell? Give it to me straight.”
“We worked around the clock to read through the newspapers you identified as possible leads. Eight and a half months before her twins were born, Sharon Gray attended a fundraiser for Tom Heatherow’s biological father. She was partially active in his failed campaign. Tom Heatherow wasn’t supposed to be in attendance, but the picture shown in one of the newspapers has him in the background looking at Miss Gray. We managed to get a copy of the guest list for the fundraiser. She was on it. He was not. Miss Gray contributed a hundred dollars, and she was starting to get a real feel for the politics of campaigning. Over the next few months, several other newspapers either had mentions of Sharon Gray as a campaigner for the Presidential bid or a photograph of her in the background. Those pictures stopped after three or so months.”
“Her pregnancy started showing?”
“That’s what we think. The article forty weeks following the fundraiser is disturbing at best.” Maxwell sighed. “And it’s why I fear she’ll be targeted no matter what we do.”
