Werewolves in London (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 3)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Autistic?”

  “From the vaccinations?”

  “No, that’s been proven wrong.”

  Trish grabbed Peyton’s arm, digging in her fingers. “Listen to me.”

  Peyton patted her hand, trying to get her to ease her grip. “I’m listening, Trish.”

  “That’s how they track us, in the shots. They have microchips embedded in them and they shoot them in your arm. Then they can scan you and get the information they want. Ingenious, isn’t it now?” She paused and her eyes went distant. “It is rather ingenious.”

  Peyton gently pried her hand loose. “I think the potatoes are clumping.”

  “Oh.” She released Peyton and snatched up her spoon, stirring vigorously.

  Peyton backed away from her. “Thank you, Trish.”

  Trish tapped her finger against her skull and jerked her chin at Caleb. Peyton nodded and forced a smile, turning and walking over to Radar.

  Radar gave her a shake of his head. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

  Peyton frowned at that. Was he praising her or mocking her? “I thought I had something there until she started spouting that Niles is Charlie’s doppelganger and Abbott’s an alien.”

  Radar draped an arm over her shoulder, directing her toward Tank and Bambi. “I don’t know about Niles, but she might be right about Abbott. He told me he loves kidney pie.” He gave a shiver of revulsion and Peyton laughed.

  * * *

  Marco watched his nephew open his graduation gifts. A lot of the presents had a common theme – UCLA paraphernalia. Leaning against the doorjamb in his brother and sister-in-law’s house, he was feeling a little claustrophobic. He loved his family something fierce, but this many people in such a small space were bound to bump into each other.

  “Here, Uncle Marco,” said Cristina, offering him a sparkling champagne glass off the tray she carried. “We’re going to do a toast.”

  Marco took the glass and touched her on the nose. “How do you get prettier every time I see you?”

  She blushed and ducked her head. “You always say that.”

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Because it’s always true.”

  She beamed a smile at him, then continued her circuit of the room, passing out her glasses.

  Vinnie rose to his feet from the couch and held up his champagne glass. “I would like to propose a toast to my son, Antonio Vincent D’Angelo.”

  Everyone picked up their glasses as well. Tonio grabbed his and rose to stand by his father. Vinnie put his arm around Tonio’s shoulders.

  “Tonio, you are a good son. Cheers!”

  Protests arose and Vinnie laughed.

  “Always with the humor,” grumbled Leo.

  “Okay, Papa, here it is. Tonio, today begins your adventure independent of your mother and me. You have made me proud so many times in the last 18 years as you grew from a tiny infant to an independent minded young man. It has been an honor to parent you and a privilege to be the cause of your future therapy. Congratulations, son, you amaze me. Cheers!”

  Everyone lifted their drinks and took a sip. The sickly sweet flavor of apple cider struck Marco’s tongue and he grimaced. Tonio made a face too.

  “You gotta toast with champagne,” he grumbled.

  “Not when you’re under twenty-one,” said his father, but his eyes lifted to Marco.

  Marco looked away. He knew the gesture was well meaning, but it stung and he suddenly wanted out of this room more than he wanted anything. Still, he forced himself to stay. Peyton’s comment that he ran whenever things got rough whispered through his mind. He had to stop running if he ever wanted a relationship with her again.

  Rosa rose and clapped her hands. “Okay, everyone, we have a wonderful buffet in the kitchen just waiting to be eaten. Let’s go.”

  As everyone filed into the kitchen after the food, Marco hung back, leaning on the wall. When Tonio followed the others, Marco motioned for his nephew to come over to him. Tonio immediately shifted in his direction, stopping before Marco. Vinnie gave them suspicious looks, but Marco ignored his brother, waiting for everyone to enter the kitchen.

  As soon as they were alone, Marco handed Tonio the card he’d been holding for him. “Open it here.”

  Tonio gave him a searching look as he took the card and tore open the envelope. He pulled the card out, smiling at the front cover. A little cartoon man with his empty pockets turned out graced the front. Across the top it said, Congratulations and welcome to adulthood! Opening it, Tonio gave a bark of laughter. The inside read, And welcome to debt!

  “Yep, that’s true.” He reached for the paper inside and turned it over, then his eyes snapped up to Marco’s face. “I can’t take this, Uncle Marco.”

  “Yes you can, and you can keep it just between the two of us.”

  “You need this for your wedding.”

  Marco drew a ragged breath. No he didn’t, but he didn’t voice it out loud. “Don’t worry about that. It’s taken care of.”

  “What about Peyton?”

  “What about her?”

  “Shouldn’t you talk to her about this?”

  “Peyton? Peyton would give you twice that amount.”

  Tonio gave him a calculating look. “Then maybe I should talk to her.”

  Marco laughed. “Look, that isn’t going to go far, but maybe it’ll buy your books or something for the first year. I’m proud of you kid and I know you’re going to do great things.”

  Tonio’s eyes grew liquid. “I’m going to become an orthopedic surgeon, Uncle Marco.”

  Marco felt a rush of emotion inside of him, but he tamped it down. “Well, then, that’ll buy you one book.”

  Tonio laughed, then he stepped forward and hugged his uncle. “Thank you, Uncle Marco.”

  Marco hugged him in return. “It’s really nothing, kid. You deserve it.”

  Tonio stepped back and nodded to the kitchen. “You’re gonna come eat something, right? Mama and Grandma will be furious if you don’t.”

  “Yeah.” He started to turn toward the kitchen, but his phone rang. He grabbed it out of his pocket, seeing Peyton’s number on the screen. He couldn’t help the thrill of happiness that went through him as he pressed the icon to connect the call. “Tell them I’ll be there in a bit.”

  Tonio waved from the doorway and Marco limped over to the couch, sinking onto the seat, as Peyton’s face appeared on the screen.

  * * *

  “Hey.”

  Peyton breathed a sigh, seeing Marco’s handsome features filling her phone. She leaned back into the corner of the leather booth, resting the phone on her knee. “Hey.” She felt tears prickle her eyes. “Where are you?”

  “Vinnie’s. Tonio graduated today.”

  “He did? I missed it.”

  “Yeah, but don’t feel bad. I almost missed it too.”

  “We need to get him something.”

  “I took care of it. I said it was from both of us.”

  “Thank you.” She braced her head with her hand. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

  “It was pretty amazing. He gave a speech.”

  “I know. He was selected out of about twenty other kids.”

  Marco gave her an amused smile. “How did you know?”

  “Rosa told me. We talk every few days.”

  “Really?” He frowned. “Are you in another pub?”

  “Yep.” She rubbed at her eye. “I wanted to stay in, but everyone insisted I come with them.”

  His expression sobered. “You okay, sweetheart?”

  She looked away, trying to compose herself. “I’m fine.”

  “Doesn’t feel that way to me. What’s wrong, Brooks?”

  She forced a smile for him. “I’m just tired and frustrated and homesick. I don’t think this case is ever going to end, and all I want is to be there with you, and my dog. How is my dog?”

  “He’s fine. He’s happier being at your house.”

  She nodded, relieved. “And I
want a hamburger.”

  He laughed. “The last time I got you a hamburger you didn’t eat it.”

  “I’d eat it now.”

  He smiled and her heart did that funny little flutter whenever she looked at him. “Look, sweetheart, you may never get the chance to be in London again. You should enjoy the parts of it you can and soak up all the local culture. And one way to do that is to get off the phone with me.”

  “How’d you get so wise?”

  “Therapy.”

  Peyton laughed. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “You can call me anytime.”

  “Bye, Marco baby.”

  “Bye, Brooks.”

  She disconnected and slipped out of the booth. Going back to the pub table, she climbed on the stool and lifted her pint, taking a sip.

  “Everything all right?” asked Bambi.

  “Yeah, are we getting food?” She didn’t want to talk about the call or she knew the homesickness would come raging back.

  “We ordered fish and chips,” said Radar, playing with his paper coaster.

  Caleb pulled open the door and stepped inside. Bambi waved frantically to him and he shifted in their direction. Tank grabbed him a stool and he took a seat on it, giving them his affable smile.

  “I just heard back from Charing Cross. The shift manager’s willing to talk with us tomorrow.”

  “Excellent,” said Radar.

  The fish and chips arrived and Caleb ordered a pint. As they ate, Peyton found herself studying a group at the end of the bar. They were watching a soccer game on the big screen television and cheering loudly. Every once in a while they’d break into song.

  After the food was eaten and cleared, Peyton managed to finish her pint. She felt a bit of a buzzing in her head and she realized she hadn’t drank that much in a long time. As soon as her glass was empty, Bambi nudged her with her shoulder.

  “Help me buy another round. It’s my turn.”

  Peyton didn’t think she wanted anymore, but she jumped off the stool and followed Bambi, surprised she was weaving a little. Bambi went to the bar and leaned on it. A young female bartender came over and took her order.

  Two men who’d been with the group watching the game came over and leaned on the bar. “You’re American,” one said. He had spiky blond hair, crooked teeth and a pleasant smile.

  “Yes, what gave us away?” said Bambi, turning to face them.

  “Your Hollywood good looks,” said the second. He had very pale skin and black hair.

  Bambi rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar. The bartender started lining up the pints for them. Something happened on the television and the group cheered. The blond looked back at Peyton and Bambi, holding out his hand.

  “I’m Patrick.”

  Bambi took it. “Emma, and this is my friend, Peyton.”

  “Nice ta meet ya, Peyton,” said Patrick. He patted the dark haired guy. “This is Roddy, me mate.”

  They shook hands with Roddy. Bambi paid for the drinks, but as they reached for the glasses, Patrick took the extra one. “Let me give ya a hand.”

  “Sure,” said Bambi.

  They carried everything back to the table. Bambi introduced the two men to Caleb and the Ghost Squad. The men pulled a second table over and sat down with them. Radar gave Peyton a skeptical look, but Peyton shrugged and sipped at her drink.

  “So, what part of America do you hail from, lass?”

  “California,” said Bambi.

  They gave each other a nudge and laughed. “Told ya Hollywood.”

  “Northern California,” corrected Tank.

  “How many movie stars have you met?”

  “None,” said Peyton.

  Radar made an annoyed sound and sipped at his drink.

  A cheer went up from the group again.

  Patrick and Roddy looked over. Someone shouted something to them from the group and they both whooped. Laughing, Patrick turned back to them. “You don’t watch soccer much in the states, do you now?” He said soccer with an affected American accent.

  “Not much.”

  “I’ve always wondered why it never took on in the colonies,” said Roddy.

  “They don’t like to be called the colonies, mate,” said Caleb.

  “Right. I’m an arse-hat,” said Roddy, leaning close to Bambi.

  Bambi shrugged.

  “Would you mind telling us arse-hats why you don’t like football?” said Patrick.

  “It’s too slow,” said Radar, giving them his Radar-death stare.

  “Too slow? How canna be too slow?”

  “He means there isn’t much scoring,” translated Tank.

  “Ah, it’s true,” said Patrick, nudging Roddy. “The American’s like scoring. You’ve seen basketball, now haven’t ya?”

  “Yeah, basketball. I think it’s a bit manic, it is. All the running up and down. I’d be knackered, I would.”

  “Knackered?” asked Bambi.

  “Worn out,” offered Tank.

  “Ah.”

  “Funny, innit, our language,” said Roddy. “It seems the same, but it isn’t, is it now?”

  “There are some difference, but spoken language is an ever changing thing. Shakespeare himself added around 1,700 words to the language,” said Tank.

  Patrick and Roddy laughed. “This one’s a walking dictionary, he is,” said Patrick. “Okay, let’s play a game. I’ll say somethin’ and you tell us how you’d say it.”

  Bambi’s eyes danced with delight. Peyton shrugged. She was just tipsy enough to go along with it. Tank actually seemed excited.

  “If I say I think basketball is pants, what would you say?”

  “Pants?” questioned Bambi.

  “Rubbish,” volunteered Caleb.

  “We’d say it sucks,” said Peyton.

  Bambi nodded.

  “Ah, that’s rather gobby of you.”

  Peyton shook her head.

  Tank frowned in concentration. “Does that mean the same as cheeky?”

  Patrick and Roddy laughed. “Close. It means outspoken, offensive. What if I say you’re taking the piss.”

  “Piss means urinate to us,” said Bambi.

  Patrick laughed. “Well, then I’ve dropped a clanger.”

  Roddy leaned close to Bambi again. “Your beauty makes me feel all collywobbles.”

  Bambi shoved him back. “I think I get that one and I say it’s a load of tosh.”

  Caleb laughed. “She snookered you, mate.”

  “She did at that,” said Roddy, reaching for his drink.

  CHAPTER 15

  Straightening the ball cap on his head, Charlie leaned against the brick wall beside the entrance to St. Mungo’s. He glanced up and down the street. He wanted to go inside and get something to eat, but he was afraid Niles would show up and he didn’t want that. There were a lot of young women seeking help in St. Mungo’s and it had been a number of days since Niles made his last kill. He had to be getting restless.

  A few people came and went. Charlie knew he should move along, but this was as close to a home as he had now and well, frankly he was afraid to go to his usual spots. Niles had turned them into crime scenes.

  When Trish stepped out of the gate, Charlie started forward, but he stopped himself and slumped back on the wall. Trish caught his motion and looked over. She wore an oversized sweater and she hugged it about herself, then moved toward him.

  “Hello, Charlie.”

  “Hello, Trish.” He looked down at his boot toe and picked at his cuticles. “How are you?”

  “I’m right fair and you?” She glanced up at him through her lashes.

  Charlie shrugged.

  “Why didn’t you come in and get a meal? We had plenty.”

  “Niles.”

  She nodded and cuffed at the sidewalk with her shoe. “American bobbies have been asking after you at St. Mungo’s.”

  Charlie’s eyes snapped to her face and he straightened away from the wall. “What?”

>   “They’ve been here twice. One’s from Scotland Yard.” She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice. “He’s an alien.”

  “They asked for me? Me specifically?”

  She nodded. “They have a picture of you from your mum.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Something about the girl killed on the Wibbly Wobbly.”

  “What about her?”

  “Who killed her. That’ll be what they’re wanting to know, now isn’t it?”

  “Did you talk to them?”

  “Just the one. The first one, the alien, I wouldn’t talk to, but the American, I talked to her. She’s sweet, actually looks at us.” She paused and considered. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Charlie was becoming confused and alarmed.

  “They don’t actually look at us, you know? They look right past us, over our shoulders, they never make eye contact.” She hugged her arms tighter. “Well, this one, she looks at us, she sees us. I warned her about the aliens. I told her how to tell who they are. I think she’ll appreciate that.”

  “Did you tell them where I was?”

  “Now how could I do that, Charlie? I’m not knowing, now am I?”

  “No, I guess not.” He cast a wistful glance at St. Mungo’s. He guessed he wasn’t going to be able to come here for a while.

  “I told them it was Niles. I told them all about Niles.”

  “You did.” Charlie’s attention shifted back to her and he felt a chill race up his spine. “You told them about Niles? What did they say?”

  “Asked a lot of questions, they did, but I didn’t have much to tell them.”

  “Did you tell them anything else?”

  “They wanted to know where to find you. I didn’t tell them that. I didn’t give you up, Charlie, but the American, she’s smart, clever, and nice. She’ll be able to get others to talk.” She reached out and touched Charlie’s arm. “You need to get rid of that manky coat, Charlie. They know about it.”

  He looked down at his army coat and stepped back from her. It was the one bit of comfort he had and she wanted to take that away from him. No, he wasn’t getting rid of the army coat no matter what.

  “Thank you for telling me about the Americans. I’ll keep a weather eye out.”