Roan (Shifters Elite Book 1)

by Ava Benton

  Amusement gone. His eyes narrowed. “That’s not a word anyone uses to describe me.”

  My food came, breaking the tension.

  He watched me drown the fluffy stack drowning in syrup.

  I glanced at him before digging in. “Does this smell okay to you?” I couldn’t help but sound sarcastic.

  “Yeah. It smells fine.”

  I rolled my eyes and got to work on my food. “My father lied to you. He lies to a lot of people. Probably everybody. One of the things about being a politician, maybe.”

  “Just because you’re calling him a liar doesn’t make it so.”

  “I see. So him claiming I ran away makes it true?”

  “There are usually two sides to every story. What’s your side?” He folded thick arms on top of the table and leaned forward, eager to hear what I had to say. I wondered if he would listen.

  “Dad’s running for mayor. You know that, right?”

  “I heard something about it when we met with him.”

  “You mean he talked about it a bunch of times, right?” I had to laugh at the smile he cracked. “Yeah. I thought so.”

  I sat back against the vinyl cushion. Whenever I thought about it, I lost my appetite. A shame, too. The pancakes were good.

  I looked down at my chipped nail polish as I spoke. When was the last time I had my nails done, anyway? Funny how quickly the things that once seemed important fell by the wayside. “I came home early one night. This was, oh, eight days ago now. There were cars outside, so I knew Dad was probably meeting with somebody. Nice cars, too. Very nice. High rollers, you know? Anyway, I thought I could slip into the house without anybody noticing me and go up to my room. I had a headache, which was why I left the club as early as I did. I just wanted to go to bed. I wish to God I had gone straight up to my room.”

  “What happened?”

  I looked from my nails to him. “Can I trust you?”

  “What do you think?”

  What did I think? I thought I didn’t even know his name or anything about him, except that Dad had offered him a lot of money to bring me back. “Who are you, anyway?”

  He answered smoothly, like he had expected the question. “My name’s Roan. Like I said, I was Special Ops.”

  That explained the physique. “Past tense?”

  His nod was short, terse. “Long story.”

  “Are you from around here? You don’t have the accent.”

  He grinned. “No. I live in Montana.”

  “Montana?” My eyes widened. “And you came all the way here?”

  “The woman your father reached out to assigns jobs to me and my team.”

  “I’m not surprised that my father would know people like you.”

  “People like me?” The way he smiled told me there was an awful lot about him that I didn’t know.

  “People who find people.” I felt embarrassed all of a sudden.

  “Gotcha.”

  I hurried to keep going. “So I heard voices coming out of his study, down the hall. Loud voices. Like he was fighting with somebody. I can’t believe it now that I’m thinking back. Why would I go to the study? If he was in danger, I was only putting myself in danger, too. I should’ve called the cops. I wish I had. I guess I read too many Nancy Drew books back in the day or something. Instead, I tiptoed down the hall to see what the matter was.”

  It was tough to stay in the moment when I put myself back there in the house. The hall was dark except for the thin beam of light coming from the cracked-open study door. I followed that beam and looked through the crack…

  I reminded myself I wasn’t there anymore. I was in the crappy little hole in the wall with Roan. I pulled the old hoodie tighter around me, like it would offer some protection. “I looked inside the room just in time to see Dad’s aide getting shot.”

  “Shot?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.

  I only nodded. “Yes. He never liked the way Dad had ties with the Rossi family. That Rossi guy was there, too. The son, the one who’s always in the news.”

  “I’m not familiar with them.”

  “Of course not. You’re not from around here. Let’s just say the family runs the city’s underground, and they want a guy like my father in their pocket. They’ll put up the money for his campaign—not to mention, uh, convincing the voters.” I rolled my eyes. “And he’ll turn and look the other way when they pull their bullshit.”

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “I heard them talking about it—or, rather, I heard Dan Jarvis yelling about it before that Rossi guy shot him.” My stomach turned at the memory. I could almost smell the gunpowder.

  “So he’s dead?” Roan asked, shaking his head a little. “Your father mentioned him disappearing. Like you running away was just one more thing to worry about.”

  “Oh, he’s dead. A slug right to the chest.” I leaned in and whispered, “Was there an ornate rug in the study? I’m assuming he met you in the study.”

  He shook his head, and a funny look came over his face. Like he was remembering something. He stayed silent, though.

  “I guessed he threw the rug out,” I muttered. “All that blood, you know.”

  “How did you get away without getting killed?” He sounded amazed. I guessed I would, too, if I was hearing my story for the first time.

  “I guess I was too shocked to make a sound. I went mute, you know? Instead of screaming, I mean. But Dad… he looked up at the door and saw me.” I felt lost again, lost in the memory of that terrible moment. “He looked horrified. But you know what’s interesting? And I’ve done a lot of thinking about this. I have no choice but to think about it.”

  “What’s interesting?” he asked after I fell silent.

  “He didn’t look horrified by what happened. It wasn’t until our eyes met. Before he saw me, he looked… pleased? Satisfied, maybe. Like he was getting what he wanted. I’m used to seeing him look that way, when he’s had a good meeting or interview or whatever. When he hears he’s up in the polls. And it makes me sick just thinking about it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Rossi didn’t see me. He was busy trying to manage the mess he’d made. I dashed down the hall on tiptoe and ran up the stairs and pulled out my backpack.”

  “That fast?”

  “I wasn’t about to stick around and find out if Dad was okay with me seeing what happened. My hands shook so bad, I could barely get anything crammed into the bag. I couldn’t get the image of his face out of my head.”

  I held my head in my hands then, remembering all too clearly the horror of that moment. I knew Dad didn’t regret anything except me seeing him there and didn’t want to wait to see what he’d do because of it.

  “What did you think he would do? Kill you?”

  I blinked, staring at him. “Are you really asking? I mean, do you doubt it? You sound like you doubt it.”

  “He’s your father.”

  “He was Dan’s best friend. They were college roommates. I grew up calling him Uncle Dan. Yet my father stood there and watched a man shoot him in the heart. Tell me you believe the man hasn’t sold his soul.”

  “That’s pretty grim.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t see it. You don’t know. And I’ve had days to think about it without much else to do but look at the walls of the crappy little hotel room I’m staying in.” I took a deep breath and folded my hands on the table. “He offered you a lot of money to bring me back. An obscene amount. Doesn’t that seem a little desperate to you?”

  “He might be trying to protect you from the Rossi family.”

  “Don’t you think I’d be dead by now if they were after me? They’re the mob. He wants me back to make sure he shuts me up. This election means everything to him.”

  He smirked a little.

  My heart sank when I realized he didn’t believe me. Why didn’t he believe me? Did Dad really have him so fooled that he refused to see what was right in front of him? I started picking at my nails, nerve
s fraying with every beat of my heart.

  “I feel so alone right now.” I looked down at my increasingly ugly nails just before the first tear spilled onto my cheek.

  It was so stupid, breaking down like that in front of a perfect stranger who didn’t even believe me.

  Would anybody believe the word of the screw-up party girl against her highly respected father?

  Of course not.

  I slid out of the booth along with my backpack. “Forget it. And forget me. Please. I’m begging you.”

  “It’s not that easy.” He pulled a wad of cash out of his jacket pocket, tossed it onto the table and followed me out of the place.

  We were on a grimy, narrow side street with not much foot traffic, so I wouldn’t be able to blend in easily.

  I walked as fast as I could, pulling the hood over my head as I did.

  He fell into step beside me and bumped me into a wall, then blocked me with a body that was much bigger than mine.

  It only took a split second to realize he wasn’t blocking me from running away. He was protecting me from the bullets tearing through the air around us.

  5

  Roan

  “What the hell is happening?” she screamed over the sound of gunshots.

  I pressed her to the wall until my body completely covered hers, arms up over her head. My head, meanwhile, swiveled back and forth to see where the shots were coming from.

  Single shooter—all from the same direction. I finally spotted him crouched beside a dumpster at the entry to an alley three buildings away. He stopped firing long enough to reload, which was just long enough for me.

  “Stay here!” I barked before taking off at a sprint.

  He didn’t expect that—probably thought he’d kill or at least wound her and not have to worry about pursuit. When he saw me coming, he dropped the gun and ran down the alley.

  I kicked the weapon aside as I pursued him down the dark, narrow passage. The smell of rotting garbage and stale, stagnant water assaulted me, but there was another scent calling out, begging me to follow.

  The scent of his fear, so real I could almost taste it. It flowed through me, pulling me. Even in the near darkness provided by tall, close-set buildings, I could easily track him.

  There was a tall chain-link fence blocking our half of the alley from the half leading to the next street. The gunman flung himself at it and started climbing like his life depended on it—which it did. He had no idea who he just fucked with.

  I caught up without much effort, leaped the ten or so feet he’d already climbed and pulled him to the ground. He landed on his back with a sickening thud and was still gasping for the wind that had been knocked out of him when I pinned him there, knees on his arms.

  “Who sent you?” I wrapped one hand around his scrawny throat and squeezed.

  His beady eyes bulged. Sweat poured off him in a pungent river. His heart raced like a runaway train, the pulse throbbing under my palm.

  “I don’t have to tell you shit!”

  I squeezed tighter.

  His face started turning red.

  “Say that again,” I snarled.

  Our faces were just inches apart.

  I wanted nothing more than to snap my jaw around his throat and drain the life from him.

  “I want you to tell me who put you up to this. Who was it? What did they offer you?”

  His eyes searched mine. “What’ll ya give me if I tell ya?” he whimpered. He wasn’t such a tough guy when somebody was seconds away from choking the shit out of him.

  “Your life,” I spat. “Not that it’s worth much, but I guess you like being alive or you wouldn’t have run. It’s up to you.”

  The violent trembling of his body told me he didn’t want to die. Or was afraid to.

  I wondered how many innocent people he had killed the way he tried to kill Hope.

  Was he afraid to pay the price after death? Was he one of the ones who believed in that? It was always the way. Do whatever you want, kill whoever you want, be a boil on the ass of humanity but when it’s time to die, be scared of what’ll happen afterward.

  He nodded as much as he could with my hand still encircling his throat. “I’ll talk,” he gasped.

  I loosened my grip just enough to let him speak, but didn’t let go. I wasn’t stupid.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I—I don’t know the name. They don’t ever tell me the name.”

  “Who’s they?” I whispered.

  “The people who set me up with jobs, man. Don’t ask me to give ‘em all up. They’ll kill me.”

  “I’ll kill you,” I growled.

  He let out a yelp, something a wounded puppy would let out after getting kicked. “It’s a deep underground group. I don’t even know anybody’s name, I swear to God. It’s all code name shit, like spies or something.”

  And there went my special sense, pinging away. He was lying. I could smell it all over him. My hand tightened reflexively, making him gasp. “You’re lying to me. I’ll snap your worthless neck for it.”

  “No! No, please!” His eye bulged, his face turned deep red. I could’ve done it, too. I could easily have snapped the delicate series of bones between his head and his shoulders. I would’ve loved it, too. That satisfying sound. He shook his head. “Please, don’t!”

  “Tell me the truth. Don’t lie again.”

  His chin trembled as he silently sobbed. “I just know it was for somebody important. That’s all I know.”

  “Rossi?”

  His forehead creased in confusion. “Who? No, man. Not mafia. Powerful, you know? The Rossis know how to take care of this shit themselves.”

  He made sense—and I could tell he wasn’t lying anymore. Somebody powerful would have to be the old man, her father.

  A politician.

  I opened my mouth to ask another question when the sound of a semi-automatic being racked caught my attention.

  We both looked up to find Hope aiming the gun I’d kicked away at the gunman’s head.

  His own gun.

  Ironic.

  She dropped her backpack on the ground beside him, then used both hands to steady her aim.

  “Hope,” I murmured. “Put it down.”

  “Fuck that,” she whispered. Her hands were steady and her eyes cold. “He tried to kill me.”

  “Killing him won’t make it right,” I warned her. “You don’t know what it’s like to kill somebody.”

  “You do?” she asked, never taking her eyes off him.

  He went stock still, frozen in place.

  “Yeah, I do. You don’t wanna carry that around with you. Believe me.” I held out the hand not grasping the gunman’s throat and moved to a crouching position, freeing up his arms. I didn’t think he’d be moving a muscle anytime soon. “Give me the gun.”

  She shook her head like the spoiled brat her father described. “No.”

  “Hope, look at me.”

  It took a few beats, but she finally pried her eyes from him and focused on me.

  “You don’t have to do this. He won’t hurt you. Will you?” I squeezed his throat to prompt him.

  “No!” he gasped. “No, I won’t!”

  I loosened my grip just a little.

  “See?” I asked, still holding my hand out. “He’s learned his lesson. He’s gonna get the hell out of here and disappear if he knows what’s good for him so the people paying him for this job won’t get wise. He’s gonna let you go, too. Right?”

  “Right,” he whispered.

  I extended my arm further. “Give me the gun. Come on. And we’ll get out of here and get you someplace safe.”

  She hesitated, but after a few shaky breaths, the gun started to waver.

  I waited with my hand held out.

  Slowly, slowly, she lowered her arms. I took the opportunity to pull the gun away before she changed her mind, while she turned her back to us and covered her head with her hands.

  Then I turned to the man on the
ground and blew his brains out.

  She spun, mouth open in shock.

  I took her by the waist and hurried her out of the alley before she could scream—I was practically carrying her while she kicked her feet in the air, trying to touch the ground.

  “We have to get out of here,” I snarled through clenched teeth. Nobody called the cops when he fired at Hope, which told me a lot about the neighborhood we were in, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

  Only when we were a safe distance away did I let her go.

  Instead of running away, she dropped on her ass like her legs folded up.

  “Why did you do it?” she whispered, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were wide, haunted. “You didn’t want me to do it, but you did it anyway. Why did you stop me if you were just going to—”

  “I said you shouldn’t do it. I didn’t say I shouldn’t.” I kept my eyes moving back and forth, watching out in case anybody got too curious.

  It was clear people tended to mind their business around here. I could’ve set a car on fire and gotten away with it, everybody hurrying past with their eyes on the ground or on their phones.

  “Why?”

  “Please. He was dead the second I caught him. He shouldn’t have done what he did if he wasn’t willing to die for it.”

  She looked up at me with her chin trembling. “Did he tell you anything?”

  I went back to looking around. “He told me what I needed to know, and we couldn’t run the risk of him opening his mouth and saying he didn’t get to you. Or that you have protection.”

  “I have protection?”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah.” I looked down at her. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.”

  I snorted. “Okay. Let’s get moving.”

  “Where?” She scrambled to her feet, though, even with all her questions.

  “That’s my business.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you if you don’t tell me where we’re going.”

  “Fine. Good luck.” I walked away.

  “Hey! You can’t just run off on me!” I heard the pack bouncing off her back as she jogged to catch up.