Nothing In Common, Except ...

by Edward Kendrick

  “How are you feeling?” Brax asked, sitting on the foot of the bed.

  “Physically? I’m close to healed.” Kyle’s mouth tightened as he said, angrily, “I’m pissed. No. More than that. I want the bastard’s head, stuck on one of the spikes on the gates of Connoisseurs, like they did in olden times.”

  “That’s quite an image,” Brax replied with a brief smile. “How about we just eliminate him the normal way.”

  “If you insist.” Kyle’s gaze turned inward, or so it seemed to Brax, as he said, “If I was a different person, I’d give him a taste of his own medicine, for what he did to me.”

  “But you’re not,” Brax stated. “You’re a decent man, so we’ll make it a clean kill.”

  Kyle lifted an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re decent, too, since you want to do it that way?”

  Shrugging, Brax replied, “I hope so, although some people might dispute it.”

  Reaching out, Kyle gripped Brax’s hand. “I might, no—I was one of those people, before I met you.”

  “Changed your mind?” Brax asked with a wry grin. “Even though you’re still certain I’m the thief you’re looking for?”

  “Ninety percent certain, but it doesn’t negate the fact you’ve been doing what you could to stop Russo, which goes a long way toward making me think you’ve got a strong moral streak—” Kyle chuckled “—in most areas.”

  “I try.” Brax squeezed Kyle’s hand, before asking, “Are you hungry?”

  “I guess. I hadn’t really thought about it. What are you offering?”

  Brax waggled his eyebrows. “What do you want?”

  “Oh, boy. I walked into that one. Although…” Kyle shook his head. “Nope. Not going there. I’m not into quickies or one-nighters.”

  “You think I am?” Brax asked, not sure if he was amused or dismayed at Kyle’s assessment of him.

  “I don’t know you well enough to say one way or the other, but my instinct tells me you’re not big on commitment.”

  “True. Probably because I’ve never met someone I truly wanted to commit to for the long term. But back to the original question. Do you want something to eat? I had a sandwich, but I could whip up something more substantial if you want.”

  “A sandwich would be fine,” Kyle replied. He looked around, spotted his slacks, and grimaced. “I don’t suppose you own any sweatpants I could borrow.”

  Considering the slacks were blood-stained, Brax knew why Kyle had asked. “I do. I’ll be right back.” He left the room, returning a moment later to hand a pair to Kyle. “We’re close enough to the same size these should work.”

  “Thanks.” Kyle put them on, then they went into the kitchen. He started to protest when Brax practically ordered him to sit, saying, “I’m fine, damn it.”

  “Close, but not totally, so sit. Please. I think I can handle making us sandwiches without your help.” Brax grinned. “Besides, you’re a guest, so I’m obligated to.”

  “Hell of an excuse,” Kyle muttered, sitting.

  Brax made the sandwiches—two for Kyle, one for him—and poured them coffee, before joining Kyle at the kitchen table. They ate without talking, then took fresh cups of coffee into the living room, settling on either end of the sofa.

  “Now, we plan,” Brax said. “If you’re up to it.”

  “Will you quit trying to baby me,” Kyle grumbled. “Just because I’m still healing doesn’t mean I don’t have a working brain.”

  “Duly noted. Okay, how do we want to approach this? You’ve been inside Connoisseurs. Is there a safe place where we could lay in wait for him?”

  “Sure, if we were human,” Kyle said. “But we’re not. He’d sense us if he came within a few yards of us. That’s undoubtedly how he knew I was there this afternoon.”

  “Obviously you didn’t sense him, though.”

  Kyle nodded, replying, “He’s much older, and an Alpha, which makes it more difficult for me.”

  “So are we. I mean Alphas,” Brax replied, giving Kyle the benefit of the doubt even though he thought otherwise.

  “Subordinate, here, though much higher than an Omega at this point,” Kyle told him. “Probably another reason he knew I was there.”

  “Okay. So we pass on trying to take him out at Connoisseurs, especially since he’d have plenty of back-up when it comes down to it. If we knew what he drives…”

  “It wouldn’t do any good unless you’re an expert sniper who could take him out with one shot. Miss, or just wound him, and he’d teleport away before you got in a second shot.”

  “My shooting skills are purely defensive. I don’t even carry, unless I’m on a stakeout that might involve someone else who does. Be that as it may, I was thinking more of following him when he left Connoisseurs to see where he ended up.”

  Kyle took a drink, staring off into space after setting the cup down. “We need to bring him to us in a controlled situation.”

  “Such as?”

  “I haven’t figured that out, yet. It needs to be somewhere where we can see him coming, so we know he’s alone. I’d be willing to bet he’s got shifters working for him. I’d rather not have to face them, too.”

  “It would easy enough for them to teleport in as soon as we attacked.”

  “True. I wonder…”

  When Kyle didn’t continue, Brax said, “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

  “I was thinking…If he has a female friend he visits.”

  “Ms. Grant might know.”

  Kyle nodded. “It’s worth asking. Do you have her number?”

  “We’ll probably get a better response if we visit her in person.”

  * * * *

  “This doesn’t bode well,” Brax muttered when they entered Ms. Grant’s apartment. The living room was in shambles—chairs overturned, the sofa out of place. He walked quickly to a partially open door along the hallway off the living room. “Damn,” he spat out when he stepped into the room. “She’s alive, but barely,” he said, kneeling beside Ms. Grant to press his fingers to the artery in her throat.

  Kyle hurried to join him. She was unconscious and obviously been beaten and cut, just as Kyle had been. “Russo’s work,” Kyle said angrily.

  Brax was already on the phone. When he hung up, he said, “I have a friend who runs a clinic for our kind. He’s willing to help, even though she’s human.” He gave Kyle the visual, then carefully gathered Ms. Grant into his arms. Seconds later, they were in a well-equipped exam room at the clinic. Brax laid her down on the table just as a tall, thin man dressed in scrubs entered the room. He took one look at her, and set to work.

  “Quit hovering,” the doctor told them. “Brax, get Ridley, if you would. You,” he shot a look at Kyle, “find the waiting room and…wait.”

  Brax and Kyle left, Brax going to the small nurses’ station to talk to one of the women. She nodded, hurrying to the exam room.

  “Doc Wilson knows what he’s doing,” Brax assured Kyle, taking the chair next to him.

  “Why did Russo go after her?” Kyle asked.

  “Maybe, after talking to us, she decided it was time to quit working for him and he objected. Or he put two and two together, after we broke into his place, and figured one of the women involved in his blackmail schemes had ratted him out. Or…When he was working you over, did he ask any questions? Like why you were there in the first place? Never mind, you said he didn’t, that you remember.”

  “Yeah, but I was out of it, except for feeling what he was doing.” Kyle shuddered. “You think he might have said something about the break in and gotten her image from my mind?”

  “Possible.”

  “So this could be my fault.” Kyle clenched his hands together, staring at the floor.

  “Not at all.” When Kyle didn’t look up, Brax put one arm around his shoulders, saying, “Listen to me. You had no control over what was happening. If he interrogated you—” he tapped Kyle’s temple “—there was no way you could have resisted thinking about her.
Got that?”

  “Yeah.” Kyle sighed. “Still…”

  “Still, nothing. Get it through your thick skull. You are not to blame.”

  Kyle smiled weakly. “Okay. Got it.”

  Doc Wilson came across the waiting room to join them. “She lost a lot of blood, and she was pretty badly beaten and cut, but you know that. That said, she will heal, although it’ll take a few days, since she’s not a shifter. I have her in a private room, now. There’s no sense in you waiting around. She probably won’t be able to talk, to tell you what happened, and who did this to her, until tomorrow at the earliest. I’ll give you a call, Brax, when she’s awake and able to have visitors.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Do you mind telling me why you’re involved?” Wilson asked.

  “She’s part of a case I’m working on. One involving a shifter, though she doesn’t know he is, or that we exist.”

  “Duly noted. If she asks, I’ll tell her this is a private clinic and you brought her here because you didn’t think she’d want to be in a hospital.”

  “That works. Given who we think did this to her, she’ll probably accept it.”

  “Anyone I know?” Wilson asked.

  “You might have heard of him. Elio Russo. He owns a fancy bordello just outside the city. She works for him.”

  “That bastard? Yeah, I know who he is. It’s a damned good thing you brought her here, for her own safety.”

  “My thoughts, exactly. Okay. We’ll leave you to it. Send me the bill, and try not to put me in the poor house.”

  “Well, I was planning on taking an extended vacation in the Caribbean thanks to you. But I’ll be kind and make it a short trip to New Orleans.”

  Brax laughed. “Gee, Doc. You’re all heart.”

  * * * *

  “We are not going off half-cocked,” Brax said firmly, as soon as he and Kyle were back at his apartment. “We sleep. We plan. Then—”

  “We go off half-cocked,” Kyle retorted with a brief grin. “Not,” he quickly added when Brax didn’t even smile. “Sorry. I’m trying to process everything that’s happened today. I’ll tell you one thing. After finding Ms. Grant, there’s no way I’m willing to just shoot the bastard and leave it at that. He’s hurt too many people. He deserves to know what it’s like to be scared shitless, begging for his life.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible. But…” Brax held up his hand when it looked as if Kyle was going to argue with him. “If we can figure out how to make his life miserable…Do things that will destroy his prostitution operation—both at Connoisseurs and his call girl business.”

  Kyle nodded slowly. “That might work. Small things at first, then escalate.”

  “Exactly. So, let’s sleep on it and see what we come up with in the morning.”

  “What if I’m not tired? I’ve already slept half the day.”

  “Bull. We were up almost to the crack of dawn, last night. You maybe got two, three more hours of sleep before going on your foray to the bordello, then a couple of hours while you were healing. You need a full night’s sleep. So do I. So get in there.” Brax pointed to the guest room.

  “Am I allowed to shower first, bossman?”

  Brax’s reply was to roll his eyes as he picked up their coffee cups from earlier that evening, taking them to the kitchen. When he returned to the living room, he heard the shower running. Turning off the lights, he retired to his room to shower, too, then hit the bed to get some sleep.

  Chapter 8

  “The Feds should be on his tail by now, or at least beginning to take a serious look at him,” Kyle said as he came into the kitchen.

  “And good morning to you, too,” Brax replied with a smile.

  “Sorry. Mornin’. Anyway, as I was saying, whatever we do, we might have to avoid them in the process.”

  “True enough. Pancakes or waffles?”

  “Whichever.” Kyle poured himself a cup of coffee, then leaned against the counter as he drank it. “Now that I’ve seen the waiting room to his office, if it is his office, we can visit it and see what he might be hiding there, before the Feds do their thing.”

  “One option,” Brax agreed, while mixing the batter as he waited for the frying pan to heat up. “Given time, I can probably hack into the computers and add an incriminating file on one of them. Well hidden, of course.”

  “Of course. But what type of file?”

  Brax smiled maliciously. “Do you have any open art theft cases?”

  “Other than the museum ones I’ve been working?” Kyle slanted a knowing look at Brax, which he ignored. “Let me think.”

  “While you do, would you get the syrup from the cupboard and pour us juice.”

  Kyle did, as well as taking out the butter to put on the table, which was already set.

  “There’s one I can think of,” Kyle said, sitting when Brax set plates with pancakes and sausage on the table. “I’ve got the details on my laptop, back at the hotel. Even if Russo did stop by to search for anything useful, since he knows I’m not there, he wouldn’t have found it, because it’s in the hotel’s safe.”

  “You’re not going back to find out,” Brax said, looking hard at Kyle.

  “Yeah, I am. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful, but I need the laptop, and real clothes.” He glanced down at the sweatpants Brax had lent him.

  “Don’t change on my account,” Brax replied. “I sort of like the casual, shirtless look.”

  “Thanks.” Kyle did his best not to read something into his words, since he had the feeling Brax was only teasing—although on some level he wished he wasn’t. “Still, I don’t think just sweatpants will work if we plan on going anywhere today, like Connoisseurs.”

  “Probably not.” They began eating, then Brax said, “I want to find out if he has any of his special parties planned, hopefully for this weekend—and who’s invited if he does.”

  “Planning on crashing it?”

  “Nope. If he is hosting one, and we work fast, we can let the attendees know it’s been cancelled.”

  Kyle chuckled. “That would frost his ass. As a matter of fact, that’s better than trying to frame him for running an art theft ring.”

  “Yep. As soon as you’re done eating, go get clean clothes while I set up a program to spy on his computers.”

  “If you’re doing what I think, you’ll need an email address.”

  “Which I can get from Connoisseurs’ website,” Brax replied.

  They finished eating, then Kyle returned to his hotel while Brax cleaned up before setting to work on accessing the computers at Connoisseurs. Half an hour later, Brax grinned when someone there opened the email he had sent, and the innocuous-seeming attachment.

  “Any luck?” Kyle asked, startling Brax when he landed beside the desk. “By the way, it doesn’t look like Russo checked out my hotel room. If he did, he was careful not to move anything. Everything’s just the way I left it, and trust me, I know. I’m pretty anal that way.” He set the laptop down on the side of the desk. “When I stopped at the front desk to get this, they didn’t say anything about someone else asking if I’d left anything with them. Of course, he’s probably smart enough to know they wouldn’t have told him if he had.”

  Brax nodded, resisting the chance to make a wisecrack about Kyle’s being anal. Not the time to be kidding around, even with an opening like that. Instead, he said, “Good, and I’ll know soon if this will get us what we want.” He tapped some keys, entering his user name and password into an online control panel. “Yep,” he said a few minutes later when he was able to access the information he was looking for. “We’re in luck.” He tapped the screen, which showed a list of names and email addresses in a file.

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s throwing a party tonight,” Kyle said.

  “Can you think of any other reason for a list that’s titled with today’s date and a time? Seven-thirty.”

  “Not really. So do your thing. What reason have you come up
with for cancelling it?”

  “The truth, more or less. He’s discovered Connoisseurs is going to be targeted by federal investigators, and he doesn’t want to involve his ‘good friends’ even though he knows the investigation will go nowhere—or words to that effect.”

  “I’m betting he doesn’t know that, yet. The Feds move slowly when they’re making a case. But it works as an excuse.”

  Between them, Brax and Kyle came up with a well-worded letter, vaguely suggesting exactly what the Feds were looking for. Then Brax emailed a copy to every man on the list, sending it through Connoisseurs’ email server.

  “You know some of them will contact Russo to find out exactly what’s going on and ask if they should be worried that they’ll be involved.”

  “Yep. That’ll make his day. Not.” Brax leaned back, smiling maliciously. “So, what next on our vendetta against him?”

  “We have the names of the call girls that we got from his accountant. What are the chances we can convince at least some of them to break ties with him?”

  “Given what Ms. Grant said he did to her friend who tried to, and what he did to her, I’d say slim to none, unless we can come up with a way to protect them.”

  “You’re right,” Kyle agreed. He began pacing the office. Then he nodded. “According to what I read on the website, Connoisseurs guarantees that all their girls are free of any STDs. Suppose it came out that it’s not the truth.”

  “How would we manage that?”

  “Bring up the website. I think I saw one of those link to us things, meaning it undoubtedly has a presence on Facebook and Twitter.”

  Brax did, and found out that Kyle was right. “It also has a message board.”

  “Then we’re good. Let’s come up with a few names, then have them post everywhere that they caught something from the girl they were with and they’re not happy about it.”

  “Vicious. I love it.” Brax checked Connoisseurs social networking pages. “I’ll set up some accounts and friend the bordello. Then begin our second stealth attack.”

  “Make sure it’s real stealthy,” Kyle cautioned.

  Brax grumbled, “I do know what I’m doing,” as he set to work. By the time he’d finished, after making very certain none of the names he’d come up with matched anyone living in the city, it was almost lunchtime.