Gathering Storm: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 17)

by R. L. King

  She laughed. “Good point. So, why don’t we get that cup of coffee and then I’ll give you a ride to Reno? Least I can do.”

  “I’ll take you up on the coffee, but I can’t let you drive me. I’ll get a rental or catch a bus or something.”

  She shook her head. “Nope, you have to let me give you a ride. Like I said, it’s the least I can do after messing up your car and your plans. After that—where are you headed? Is your business here in town?”

  “Actually, Reno is where I was headed.”

  “Well, then, that makes things easy.” She pulled into a parking lot and stopped in front of a local coffee shop with a log façade. “C’mon—this place is good. A lot better than the chains.”

  Jason followed her into the shop, which continued the rustic, rough-hewn theme on the inside. Some indie-folk band he’d never heard wafted out from hidden speakers. They got steaming cups of coffee and took seats at a table near the window, where he could keep an eye on the SUV.

  “So, what are you investigating in Reno, if you’re allowed to say?” Amber settled back and sipped her coffee. She looked mostly relaxed, but Jason could see she was still hiding some stress.

  “Cheating husband. His wife hired me to get some photos of him with the woman she thinks he’s seeing.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, cheaters are the worst.”

  “Yeah, but they pay the bills. I haven’t been in business too long, so I can’t be choosy about the cases I take. What about you—what do you do?”

  “Oh, this and that. A little bartending, a little freelance stuff…I don’t like to be pinned down to anything for too long.”

  She was being evasive, but that was fine—Jason didn’t need her life story. “Hope everything’s okay—I’d hate to think you took out my car because you were thinking about your grocery list or something.” He smiled to take the edge off his words.

  “No grocery lists, I promise.” She toyed with her cup, not meeting his gaze. “Just…some stuff going on in my personal life. Nothing to worry about.”

  Jason didn’t push it. Once again, it was none of his concern, and he didn’t expect to see Amber Harte again after she dropped him off in Reno. Part of him regretted that—she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and if he’d met her in San Jose under better circumstances, he might have asked her out. But he was already late, and he didn’t have time for that sort of thing right now. “Coffee’s good,” he said.

  She looked grateful for the change of subject. “Yeah, it is. This is one of my favorite places, actually. I come here sometimes to just clear my head, which is definitely something I could use right about now.” She finished her coffee and set the cup down. “We should go, though. It sounds like you need to be—”

  She stopped, looking at something past Jason’s shoulder. “Oh, damn.”

  “What?” Jason twisted in his chair to follow her gaze.

  The door had opened to admit a man. Tall, broad-shouldered and bearded, he wore jeans, a green flannel shirt, and a belt with bull’s skull on the oversized buckle. When he spotted Amber and Jason at their table, his brow furrowed and his face twisted in anger.

  Before Jason could react, Amber was out of her chair, moving quickly forward to put herself between him and the man. “Hey, Hank. How’s it going?”

  Hank stopped, glaring between Amber and Jason, and made an obvious effort to get himself under control. “Hey, Amber. Thought I might find you here. What happened to your rig?”

  “Got in a little fender-bender. It’s fine. What do you want? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  His expression clouded, and once again he clearly made an effort to control his anger. “Yeah, I took a break. Was hoping to find you so we could talk.” He glowered at Jason. “Who’s this guy?”

  Jason stepped forward, but once again Amber moved between them. “His name’s Jason. I ran into his car, so I’m buying him a cup of coffee and giving him a ride to Reno.”

  “Like hell you are. Let him take the bus or somethin’.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Come on—I don’t have too long before I gotta get back, and we need to talk.”

  She didn’t budge. “No, Hank. I told you—I’m taking Jason to Reno. We can talk when I get back.”

  “Uh—” Jason inserted. The last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle of some ongoing argument between these two. “Listen, it’s fine. I can rent a car, or—”

  “No,” she said, in a firm don’t argue tone. “This is bullshit, and he knows it. He can bluster all he wants, but it won’t change anything.”

  “Amber—” Hank began.

  “I mean it, Hank. We’ll talk later. Go on back to work. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  Hank remained where he was, fists clenched, his body trembling with anger. Jason recognized the signs and prepared himself for what might happen. Would Hank go after him, or worse yet, Amber? He stepped forward, next to her, and glared back at the big man. Hank might be at least three inches taller and outweigh him by a good fifty pounds, but he’d fought guys his size before.

  Surprisingly, Hank did neither. Instead, he subsided, relaxing his fists but still glowering. “Damn straight we’ll talk about this later. Call me as soon as you get back.” Then he turned and stalked out of the shop, slamming the door so hard the pleasant little bell on it clanked and jangled like an angry cowbell.

  “Well. That was something you didn’t need to see,” Amber said. She sounded neither fearful nor angry, but did glare at the shop’s few other customers until they returned to their own business.

  “Uh…yeah. Listen—I don’t want to cause any trouble. Maybe you should—”

  “Maybe I should give you a ride to Reno, just like I said I would. Don’t worry—Hank won’t mess with you.”

  “I’m more worried about what might happen when you get back.” He glanced toward the door. “Are you two…together?”

  She waved it off, heading for the exit. “Sort of. He thinks it’s a lot more serious than I do, though. He can get…protective.”

  “Sounds like more than protective to me.” Jason looked around the parking lot, but didn’t see any sign of Hank lingering around outside. “You sure this is okay? I don’t want to be the cause of anything.”

  “Eh, he gets like that any time he sees me with another guy. Hell, last week he got pissed because he thought I talked to the checkout guy at the market too long, but he’d never lay a hand on me. He knows better.”

  Privately, Jason wondered about that. Amber was solidly built, with the kind of athletic frame that suggested she did actual physical work, but he didn’t like her odds if it came to a fight between her and the much larger Hank. Besides, people who used their size and strength to bully others pissed him off. “Well…even so, I don’t want to cause trouble. Let’s get to Reno so you can get back. And let me give you my number in case you need a little backup.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, it’s appreciated, but not necessary. Trust me, I’ve dealt with guys like Hank all my life, and I know how to handle them.”

  They drove off. Jason watched the scenery go by, unsatisfied with the way things were going but reluctant to push it any farther. If he did, he’d end up being every bit as annoying as Hank had been. He had enough issues in his life without getting in the middle of other people’s, especially when they were doing everything but holding up neon signs telling him to back off. Still, he was happy he already had Amber’s phone number, and she his, from when they’d exchanged information at the accident.

  It took about half an hour to reach Reno. Amber drove fast but safely, and her SUV seemed to have suffered no lingering ill effects from the accident. Jason contented himself to listen to the rock music on the radio until Amber pulled into the parking lot of the Ford dealership.

  “Here we are,” she said briskly. “Let me say it one more time—I’m really sorry about hitting your car. I know it’s messing up your plans, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

  “
Nah, it’s fine. It’s a pain, yeah, but this kind of stuff happens.” He got out and retrieved his gear from the back seat. “You take care, Amber. And I’m serious—you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything.”

  “I will—but don’t count on it. Good luck with your car!” She reached across to shake his hand.

  “Yeah, thanks. I—” He took her hand, and stopped.

  The dark, spreading bruise he’d spotted on her arm less than an hour ago had vanished.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, frowning.

  “Uh…yeah. Fine. Have a good one.”

  Jason remained where he was, watching the SUV until it had turned a corner and receded from his line of sight. As he turned to walk back to the dealership’s service area, his thoughts had moved far away from the accident.

  15

  To his continued annoyance, Jason soon discovered the service department wouldn’t even have time to look at his car until the following day. “Sorry,” the advisor told him. “I wish I could move you up, but we’re crazy busy these days. We’ll give you a call tomorrow after we get a chance to look it over.” He glanced at his computer. “But from the look of the initial assessment, expect it’s gonna be in the shop for several days at minimum. That’s assuming they don’t find any hidden damage.”

  “Great,” Jason muttered. Well, there was nothing to be done about it—he couldn’t force them to work faster, and he’d worked on enough cars in his life to know they were telling the truth. He might get lucky and not end up having to total the car, but he wouldn’t be getting it back any time soon.

  The dealership set him up with a rental. They tried to offer him an upgrade to something sporty, but he chose a boring beige sedan similar to his own. That much might work in his favor, at least: there weren’t too many things less likely to be noticed than a beige rental car. He found a cheap motel, checked in, took a shower, and verified the accident hadn’t damaged his camera gear. Now all that was left was to wait till dark and get the photos.

  This part of his adventure, at least, went off without any problems. He found his client’s husband, a sixtyish man dressed in the style of someone twenty years younger, right where she’d told him he’d be: at one of the bars at the Silver Legacy, laughing as he shared dinner and a bottle of champagne with a woman about Jason’s age in a tight, sparkly cocktail dress. He got a secluded table where he could keep an eye on them and observed them for several minutes, verifying without any doubt that he’d found the right guy.

  Carefully glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, he pulled out his tiny digital camera and snapped a few shots. He’d gotten good enough at deploying the little thing that nobody appeared to spot him—certainly not the couple, who’d clearly had more than one glass of champagne before Jason had arrived. He’d brought a larger camera with a big telephoto lens along too, in case he’d have to shoot outdoor photos, but this one would work just fine for what he needed.

  Just to be safe, he stowed the digital and pulled out another small camera, this one using real film, and snapped a few more. He did it quickly and still nobody appeared to notice him. He finished his drink and left the casino, and was back in his room at the motel in less than fifteen minutes. After checking the digital photos to make sure he’d gotten what he needed, he emailed copies to Gina back at the office, then stowed the memory card and the roll of film in a secure portion of his bag and settled back on the bed.

  Now what? He’d hoped to get the photos and drive back to the Bay Area first thing tomorrow morning, but he couldn’t do that until he found out what was going on with his car. He didn’t feel like going out drinking or gambling on his own, and although the hot shower had taken the edge off the mild aches and pains from the accident, some of them still lingered. Maybe it would be best just to hit the bed early so he could be at the dealership when they opened.

  You could hunt up Tony, you know. You’ve got time.

  He slammed his fist down on the bed. Damn it, he needed to stop thinking about Tony! Even if he could manage to find the man, what was he going to do? Show up wherever he was and say, “Hey, man, my friends and I saved your life, so how about forking over some of your blood so my sister can make a magic potion to give me superpowers?”

  Yeah, that would go over great.

  Besides, he didn’t have any idea where Tony was, aside from “the Lake Tahoe area.” That was a big area—bigger still because, as a bear shifter, he probably didn’t have a nice two-bedroom apartment in town. Hell, where did bear shifters live? Did he have a cave in the woods or something? Was he the only one, or was there a whole colony of them? Pissing off a clan of people who could change into grizzly bears was not high on his list of intelligent life choices.

  He settled back on the bed with a loud sigh. Just give it up. Get a movie on the TV, have a beer, and forget about it. It’s a bad idea to poke bears, remember?

  But Foley knows where Tony is…and you do have his number.

  Damn. That was true, as much as he’d tried to put it out of his mind.

  Officer Foley had fled Marciella Garra’s compound with Tony and the baby jaguar shifter Diego, and Foley had been the one who’d told him Tony was in Tahoe after they’d met to return Diego to Viajera. If anybody still knew where the bear shifter was, it was the cop.

  Jason swung up to sit on the edge of the bed and snatched his wallet from the nightstand where he’d tossed it. He stared at it long and hard, trying to talk himself out of this. It was a bad idea. At best, even if he could find Tony, the shifter would probably gape at him in astonishment for having the nerve to make such an insulting request. At worst, he might anger the man and any friends or relatives he had knocking around, and gain a powerful enemy he had no hope of dealing with. Not without his magically-powered associates, anyway, and the last thing he wanted to do was drag Stone and Verity into this mess.

  Just be happy with yourself the way you are. You’ve done fine so far.

  Growling, he flipped open his wallet and withdrew the slip of paper with Foley’s number on it. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his phone and punched in the number.

  “Yeah, Foley. Who’s this?”

  Jason didn’t hear any of the background noise to suggest Foley was at the tiny police station where he worked. “Hey, Foley. It’s Jason Thayer. Remember me, from the animal compound?”

  “Oh—uh, yeah, of course I do. Little hard to forget, though to be honest I’ve been trying to.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry to call so late, too.”

  “It’s okay. What’s up?”

  Jason gripped the phone tighter. “Listen—I was wondering if you were still in contact with Tony. You mentioned before you two had talked after…what happened.”

  There was a pause. “Uh…I wouldn’t say I was exactly in contact with him. We never went out for beers or anything. Like I said, I’d really rather just put this whole thing behind me. It was all way too weird for me, you know?”

  Jason could certainly sympathize with that. Sometimes he thought his whole life was getting too weird for him, and he’d had several years to get used to it all. “I get it. But I was thinking about giving Tony a call—got something I want to talk to him about. So do you know where he is?”

  “Yeah. In Tahoe. Or at least he was. Actually, I think he’s away, now that I remember it—took a trip up to Canada to visit some relatives, last I heard. Said he didn’t know when he’d be back. In fact, he mentioned he might just decide to stay up there.” He paused again. “I kinda think what happened spooked him pretty bad too, so he wanted to get away from this area, at least for a while.”

  Damn. Jason sighed. “Okay, man. I guess I can’t blame him for that.” Getting captured, held in a cage, and having your blood drained to power some old witch’s alchemy business had to be hard on the psyche, even for somebody who was more bear than human.

  “What did you want to talk to him about?”

  “Ah, nothing important. It ca
n wait. Mind giving me a call if he turns up? Or passing my number along to him if he contacts you, and asking him to call me?”

  “Yeah, sure, no problem. Everything okay with you guys?”

  Jason snorted. “Oh, yeah. My friends eat this kinda stuff for breakfast. And I’m learning to.”

  “I don’t envy you, man. My life’s gone back to the way it used to be before I started using that stuff, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Never thought I’d be this satisfied with the wife, the kid, and TV after dinner, but I am. Not just satisfied—happy. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, and I don’t want to screw it up this time.”

  “That’s great, Foley. I’ll back off so I don’t accidentally drag you in to anything else. You take care.”

  “I appreciate that.” Foley sounded relieved. “You too.”

  Jason tossed the phone on the bed, shoulders slumping. Well—that was that. There went his last realistic chance of getting hold of some shifter blood for Verity to experiment with. He had no idea how to reach the pair of wolf shifters who’d also been held prisoner at Garra’s compound, and there was no way he’d talk to Stone about contacting Viajera. If he knew or had met any other shifters, he had no idea who they were; it didn’t matter anyway, because only the fact that he’d helped save their lives gave him the courage to approach them about a possible deal. The rest of them would either laugh or use him for a light snack.

  Just forget about it.

  Yeah. Just forget about it. Frustrated, he stripped off his shirt and jeans and climbed into bed. Maybe he’d get up early tomorrow and go for a long run or find a gym to help him blow off some steam and focus on the important stuff—doing his job and growing his agency into something he could be proud of. He didn’t need alchemy-based powers for that.

  As he snapped off the light and pulled the covers up, an image flashed into his mind again: Amber Harte’s warm brown eyes and impish, straightforward smile. He wished he could give her a call, but she’d already told him she was seeing someone. The thought of the brutish, possessive Hank made him tense with anger, but she’d claimed she could handle him and the whole thing was none of his business. But what if—