Otto turns his attention back to the photo. “How long has she been there?”
“Fifteen years.”
Otto grunts. “And been in Ronmin’s pay for?”
“All of it. Or in the pay of the Fort Gosford pack anyway. She came in before Ronmin’s time. She runs the hotel and the hotel has the biggest bar. Anything happens there, she knows about it.”
“Hmm.” Otto gives the photo one last glance. Elyse Callister looks ordinary, same as all of the Fort Gosford pack’s spies. It’s why Ronmin picks half of them.
Ronmin has soccer moms and librarians, checkout clerks and used-car salesmen reporting to him for hundreds of miles around.
“And the local pack? What are they called again? They ever get suspicious?” He begins flipping through the pages.
“Winterstoke,” Hamish says.
“Weird name.”
Hamish shrugs. “They’re one of those old packs. Been in Aylewood since Moses was a cub, but to answer your question, no.” He pushes the chair back from the table and pulls open the door of the fridge. The apartment is so small, he doesn’t have to get up. “The old pack leader was too much of an old sexist to think a woman could ever be a spy and by the time the new one took over, she was already a fixture. Of course, not much ever happens there anyway.”
Otto nods as Hamish puts another two cans on the table. He pushes one across the table to Otto, even though the younger man has hardly touched the one in front of him.
Otto pays attention to the other photo. It’s a blurred snapshot of a sandy-haired man standing outside a bookstore, coffee in hand. The subject appears to be unaware of the photographer. Otto presses his lips together. It’s not first photo in the set of files that was taken by someone from a car window.
“And this guy? What’s his deal?” Otto asks.
“That’s Dan Callister. We got him in as Sheriff when the old fella retired. You’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Hamish says, leaning back on the chair.
Sheriff, Otto thinks. Another one. Ronmin has rotten cops in every station from here to... well to Aylewood.
“Same surname,” he remarks. “Husband or brother?”
“Husband supposedly, but they didn’t know each other until the assignment.”
“Really?” Otto’s curiosity is piqued. Ronmin usually pairs his spies with someone they don’t know to keep the distrust fresh as long as possible. Fifteen years is a long time to keep something like that up. “And they’ve kept it up the whole time? Not a single affair on the side?”
He slides the two photos next to each other on the warped wood of the old table.
“Not as far as I know,” Hamish says. “She’s a beta and doesn’t seem to care and he’s... well, he’s just wrong.”
Wrong.
The sandy-haired man doesn’t look wrong. He looks like an ordinary guy out for a coffee, but Otto has long learned that ‘ordinary-looking’ means nothing at all.
He’s met any number of psychopaths no one would look at twice on the street. Hell, most of the people he works with meet the criteria.
Hamish meets his eyes and gives a long, drunk blink. Another half an hour and the man is going to be snoring.
Nominally, Hamish is moving up the ranks. In reality, he’s moving sideways. He’s still good enough to Ronmin for grunt work, but no one trusts him to stay sober long enough for anything important, and for some reason Ronmin has decided that the little town of Aylewood is suddenly very relevant.
“So why do I need to watch him?”
Hamish has been this man’s handler for fifteen years. Even if he wasn’t paying attention, there’ll be at least some secrets that he didn’t write down. There always is.
Hamish grunts. “No loyalty. No respect for the pack. All his ‘loyalty’—” Hamish puts up his fingers to make air quotes, “—comes down to the dirt Ronmin has on him. Callister obeys orders well enough, but when crunch time comes...”
“He’ll make the wrong choice,” Otto finishes.
Hamish snorts. “He’ll make the dumb choice.” He shrugs again. “Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing going on in Aylewood. Hasn’t been for years. Only thing to watch is their pack leader summit coming up, but the packs are solid. No reason to think any of them wouldn’t re-sign their old agreements.”
No, Otto thinks. There’s something going on. If there wasn’t, you’d still be their handler and I’d still be the muscle standing behind Ronmin for show.
Otto sighs. The folder for Aylewood is an inch thick. There’ll be dossier in there on every alpha, omega, beta and damned rabbit in the Aylewood forests.
He closes his eyes and rubs his fingers over the lids. He’s been staring at photos and black-and-white type for so long, words and images are almost ghosted onto his eyeballs.
That’s it, he thinks. If he sits here any longer, he’s just going to end up getting drunk with Hamish and he’s got a five-hour drive in the morning.
He slides all the loose papers and photos into the folder and stacks it on top of the others, then stands up. His back complains as he does and he hears his knees pop.
“I better get going, Hamish. Long drive tomorrow. If you think of anything else I need to know, let me know.”
Hamish doesn’t bother to get up, and Otto wonders how long he’s going to sit there after Otto has gone, drinking beer after beer.
“Sure thing,” the old man says. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll do just fine.”
“Thanks, man,” Otto says, but he is worried. He’s done some screwed-up jobs for their screwed-up boss but this is new territory with new possibilities of screwed up things he might be asked to do.
He doesn’t say it. No one says anything bad about Ronmin or expresses any doubts out loud. It wasn’t that you didn’t know who was listening, it was that you did.
He packs the binders into the cardboard box they came in and picks it up with both hands. The blue Aylewood binder sits right at the top. It’s slipped while he packed it into the box and he can see the top half of Dan Callister’s photo peeking out: the very ordinary-looking Dan Callister who was somehow wrong.
Otto frowns, “What did you say was wrong with the guy in Aylewood?”
Hamish looks up, his eyes bloodshot. He makes a soft disgusted sound. “He’s soft. Completely. The boss caught him and some other alpha at it a couple of years back. That’s why he’s not bothered about being married to some beta. Hell, it’s a step up from what he likes.”
Hamish uses his thumb and forefinger to make a rude gesture.
“Oh right,” Otto says. A soft alpha. He’s heard of such a thing but never met one. Or at least, he’s never met anyone who’d admit to it.
“Dunno what inspires a man to want to do that,” Hamish continues. “It’s against nature.”
Otto glances again at the photo at the top of the box. Dan Callister is the weak link in Aylewood, the one who might end up making Otto do those screwed up things if everything goes wrong. He has no idea whether it’s nature, nurture or something else that makes an alpha like that.
What he does know is that it makes for damn good blackmail.
Dan Callister might want to make dumb choices. Otto’s not going to give him the chance. Not while he’s got that kind of leverage.
DAN
coffee pots and winter snow
“There’s a runaway omega in town,” Elyse says conversationally from the hotel reception desk as Dan walks in through the lobby doors. “Think I should call it in now or just wait til the new handler gets here?”
Dan scans the lobby. It’s just past midnight and there’s no one in sight. The sounds of music and celebration drift from the ballroom where the wedding party is still in full swing.
“Keep your voice down,” he says anyway.
Elyse rolls her eyes and shifts up so he can get past her. “No one can hear us.”
“Doesn’t matter. One mistake and we’re screwed.” He reaches behind the desk for the coffee pot she keeps there and po
urs the last of it into his travel mug. It’ll have been sitting all afternoon. Bitter darkness pours out.
Perfect.
Elyse grins and jostles him with her elbow. It makes his mug jump and he has to suppress a jolt of irritation. “Same old argument every time,” Elyse says. “Aren’t we the old married couple?”
“Yes, we are,” he replies. It’s the same retort too. If you believe it, you won’t slip up.
They might as well be married, might as well cement it in their heads as the truth. He’s shared a life and home with her for fifteen years. They might not have sex but that’s not unusual for long-married couples either.
“So, what do you think?” Elyse asks.
“About what?”
“The runaway. You should have seen the poor fellow. Pretty as a picture. He went absolutely white when I told him he’d have to go to the packhouse.”
“Did he go?”
“Not much of a choice.”
Dan glances back through the lobby doors where the snow is starting to fall thick and fast.
He’s just stopped back in to get a coffee and then he’s going to be out again, patrolling one last time before he heads to bed.
It’s just past New Year and the town is still packed with visitors. In summer months, it wouldn’t matter if someone passes out drunk outside overnight. Tonight, it’ll be a killer. Only the desperate would risk it.
Dan makes a mental note to be extra careful on his patrol. Trying to brave the freezing temperatures tonight would be an extraordinarily stupid thing to do but Dan’s met omegas that desperate. The last thing he needs is the guy’s death on his conscience.
Dan shrugs as casually as he can. “Let it wait. The new handler’ll be here in the morning anyway. He can’t do anything this late at night anyway.”
And maybe by the time Ronmin’s newest dog gets here, the omega might be on his way and out of reach.
Elyse gives him an appraising look. Dan ignores it. Fifteen years and he’s still not sure how much she tells on him.
Let her tell tales on this one. It’ll just make her look paranoid.
He twists the lid onto the travel mug and moves around her as he gets out the back of the reception. “See you in the morning.”
“Night,” Elyse says. Dan feels her gaze on him as he leaves. The new handler is making them both twitchy, he thinks as he presses the key to unlock the police car, then slides in.
He takes a sip of the coffee and immediately grimaces. It’s as thick and bitter as tar. He takes another sip anyway and then slips it into the cup holder.
One day, he’s going to have to work on his coffee addiction. He knows no one else who drinks the stuff after midnight. On the other hand, there are far worse vices to have.
He turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life, sounding loud against the soft falling of the snow.
The lights blaze from the hotel behind him but the town ahead is dark and silent, and he has to go slowly, peering through the falling white to make sure he doesn’t miss anything.
Dan keeps the radio off as he drives, preferring the silence that lets his own thoughts roam free.
He’s more worried about the new handler than he’ll ever let on to Elyse.
Hamish wasn’t a good man, but he was a drunk and he didn’t do much more than check boxes when it came to monitoring them. He’d also been that way for years.
The only reason that Dan can think that he’s being removed is that the Fort Gosford leader has finally set his sights on the Aylewood packs and has put someone competent in charge to make that happen.
He knew it was going to happen sometime but it always felt like it was sometime in the future.
Now the future is here and he’s not in the least bit prepared for it.
Dan sighs and turns the car into the little alleyway behind the bookstore, making sure the headlights shine on all the doorways and recesses.
New Year’s Eve is the worst night for passed out drunks but big events like the wedding at the hotel attract them too. No one has ever died of exposure on Dan’s watch, although some of them seem to make a concerted effort.
Dan keeps driving, checking the obvious places: the benches in the outside garden next to the Italian restaurant, the bus stop and the doorways of the closed stores.
There’s no sight nor sound of the runaway omega that Elyse mentioned, but when Dan rolls down his window, his scent drifts in: the too-neutral beta scent of an omega on blockers.
The scent leads up the main street and further up the mountain towards the packhouse.
Dan turns the car and follows it, driving slowly as he goes. The headlights light up the huge oaks that line the street up, a legacy from when the town was founded.
The trees are starting to show oak wilt. Dan’s not sure of it yet. It’s winter and any progress the disease makes will be slow. It’ll be summer when it shows itself for what it is and exposes the rot underneath.
A shudder ripples through him unbidden. It feels like an omen.
The lights are on in the packhouse when Dan slows the car and turns into the parking lot. When Dan rolls down his window, the scent of wood smoke drifts in, accompanied by the too-neutral scent of the runaway omega.
Light leaks from behind the drapes from the tower window at the top of the packhouse. Dan feels his fingers loosen on the steering wheel where he’d been gripping it too tightly. The runaway is safe for tonight.
Better get moving in the morning, whoever you are, he thinks. You don’t want the new guy sending you back to whoever you’re running from.
The big window outside the common area is lit up, the shimmering light on the walls pointing to a big fire going.
Adam Winterstoke is sitting in his chair beside the fire, feet tucked up under him as he reads, his eyes focused completely on the book in front of him.
Luke Winterstoke leans his elbows on the bar beside his brother Gregor, the two talking intently.
As Dan watches, Luke looks up and out of the window. Dan’s heart gives a little jolt as Luke sees the car.
You’re supposed to be here, Dan tells himself. You’re patrolling. It’s your job. Luke knows that or he thinks he does. Fifteen years and he still feels like an interloper.
That’s because I am. The cuckoo in the nest.
Luke raises his hand in acknowledgement even though he won’t be able to see Dan against the glare of the lights of the car, then turns back to his brother. Dan waves back anyway.
Three brothers, four if you count wherever Jax is sleeping tonight. Things are going to badly for all of them when Ronmin takes over.
And it’ll all be Dan’s fault.
He’s been the one passing their information on for years. A little voice in his head argues that if it wasn’t him it would have been someone else, but Dan ignores it.
Just following orders. That’s what all the bad guys say.
Dan turns around in the parking lot and starts back down the mountain to the hotel, his mind racing.
The new handler means things are about to kick off. He’s sure of it. It’s time for him to decide whose side he’s really on.
He’s known that he will have to tell the Winterstoke brothers who he really is for years, and now he can’t put it off any longer.
Dan breathes out heavily, steeling himself.
He just needs to find a way to do it that won’t get him killed.
OTTO
plastic baubles and a wall slam
Aylewood looks just like every other mountain tourist town that Otto has ever seen: pretty forest, majestic snow-covered peaks, a single main street with a handful of restaurants and diners and assorted small stores.
The only thing it doesn’t have is a store selling cheap tourist crap.
He finds that in the lobby of the Grand Hotel instead. There’s a whole display stand of snow baubles, cheap postcards, baseball caps and plastic replicas of every single building in town, even the dull ones.
Small town,
same shit, he thinks.
The woman at the reception desk matches the Elyse Callister’s photo. She tenses as he approaches.
She’ll have known he was coming but not what he looks like, but who he is will have been obvious the moment he walked through the door.
Just as Ronmin likes his spies to look like ordinary people, he likes his handlers and enforcers to look like thugs.
Otto knows the reaction his appearance gets from people. It’s not just his height and his muscle, it’s his shaved head and broken nose. The only thing he’s missing is a ton of tattoos.
Hamish was cut from the same mold – heading well upwards of six foot and cut with thick muscle, but Hamish was a good forty years older than Otto and years of drink had turned the muscle to fat.
“Otto McInnes,” he says as he gets to the desk. “You should have a room for me.”
The redhead gives him a wide smile, even as her body tenses further. Even through her beta scent, Otto picks up a trace of fear.
Good, that’ll make his job easier.
“Yes, of course,” Elyse says, and Otto has to hand it to her. There’s not a trace of tremor in her voice, even if her scent says otherwise. “We’ve put you in Room 16. Unfortunately, we couldn’t put you in the same wing as the rest of the wedding party but you’re only a staircase away.”
Wedding party? That’s the cover they’re going with?
Otto doesn’t think he looks like a wedding guest, not unless it’s the kind of wedding that comes with a shotgun, but he has to hand it to her.
Fifteen years and she’s still making sure there’s a reasonable cover story for him to be in town. He makes a mental note to add to her file.
Elyse holds out a keycard. Otto takes it silently, still trying to size her up.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” he says softly. “Then I want you both to report to me. Don’t be late.”
Elyse nods, her mouth tight at the corners.
“Good.”
Winterstoke Wolves Collection : An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance Bundle Page 68
