From there, I spotted two werewolves enjoying a drink. The men smelled old—quite old by werewolf standards. They were even a bit older than my father. However, to humans they looked to be in their late forties. One wore dressy clothes while the other sported a worn brown leather jacket with jeans. The dressed-down one had a shaggy haircut that gave him the air of a hardened ranch hand.
When Thorn stood before them, the dark-haired man in the nicer clothes spoke. “Can I help you?”
He eyed me next, slower than I’d prefer. Long enough for Thorn to push me behind him. The wolf’s gaze switched over to Alex.
“I’m looking for Old Leslie Leatherback. You heard of him?” Alex asked.
The man who’d addressed us rolled his shot glass between his fingers. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m—” Alex began.
“We’ll introduce ourselves once we find Old Leslie,” Thorn said. “Our business is with him.”
The dark-haired man offered a small smile before he stood. Thorn had a good few inches on him, but the other man had a cockier stance.
“That’s enough, Jack,” the dressed-down man warned. “Quit acting like everything’s a pissing contest.” Not long after, he laughed. “I’m Old Leslie. What’s your business, son?”
Jack stepped away from Thorn and sat, but he kept his eyes on Thorn.
Old Leslie continued. “You’re definitely not a pup,” he said to Thorn. “You’re much too powerful to be one.”
From behind Thorn, I could see Alex stand straighter, but I doubted he’d made much of an impression.
Thorn said, “I was told to come see Old Leslie Leatherback if I was looking for work.”
My mouth threatened to drop open, but I kept it in check. What the hell was he doing?
“Do I look like an employment office?” Old Leslie chuckled.
“You look like a man who has connections.” Thorn shrugged. “I’ve heard a thing or two.”
“From whom?”
I bit the inside of my mouth.
Thorn didn’t hesitate, though. “Fyodor Stravinsky’s from my area. I haven’t seen him for a while, but he told me if I needed quick cash you’d be the man to see.”
“I haven’t seen Fyodor in a while either, but he’s good enough folk.”
He stared at Thorn for a few seconds. From my angle, I couldn’t see Thorn’s face. But I had an idea what was happening. I’d seen my father do it with other wolves. Their eyes would examine each other in an elaborate dance that spoke words I didn’t understand. I suspected it was some kind of male thing where they measured each other’s machismo.
“Good enough, then.” Old Leslie flicked his fingers in Jack’s direction. “Meet up with them right here at ten tonight and take them to Roscoe.” Then he said, “You better be as good as you look.”
Jack’s frown filled his whole face when he met up with us later that night. Maybe his life as a thug and working for Roscoe was the reason he was so talkative and cheerful.
None of us said a single word as we followed him from the bar and then out of the casino. The streets of Atlantic City around the Golden Nugget Casino buzzed with life. People walked along the street holding drinks in their hands, holding conversations with their friends. The stench of cigarettes and cheap beer clung to their clothes. Ugh. To make matters worse, we passed a man who staggered toward us after he’d upchucked on the sidewalk. A part of me was grateful I’d mostly missed out on that particular tourist attraction. The only thing I did enjoy was the succulent scent of fine dining. We’d eaten a light meal while waiting to meet up with Jack, but we hadn’t made any plans for a real dinner. Alex and I had been far too worried about Dad to think about that.
Jack led us three blocks down the street before we reached the entrance to the Jersey Juniper Resort. This place wasn’t as large as the Golden Saddle, but it had just as many customers. Supernaturals swarmed as both customers and staff. The entryway beckoned to us with obnoxious maroon and dark pink lights. Two unfortunate souls, both of them dressed in costumes from the latest hit Broadway show, passed out flyers and tried to generate excitement for their show with an elaborate singing routine.
Alex took the lead into the hotel while Thorn brought up the rear. I followed my brother with my arms crossed, hoping I wouldn’t come into contact with anyone. Jack led us down several corridors in the hotel before we finally came to a door labeled FACILITIES. The scent of wolves lingered here from one corner to another. Their musk filled my nostrils and made me wonder which pack controlled this area. The last I’d heard, the Atlantic City pack had severed into several factions after its leaders had quarreled. I wasn’t sure if one of the rival packs held Dad’s debt or if it was held by a single person. The name Roscoe didn’t ring a bell, so I had no idea what we were about to face.
From the locked door we walked down several flights of stairs until we reached the facilities floor. We didn’t run into any maintenance employees, so no one stopped us before we reached the final set of doors. Two burly guards stood in front of them. I froze. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen guns that big before, but seeing two men as large as my father holding them made me twitch in fear. Like my dad, the guards were thickset—muscle built on muscle. The guns they held were most likely to ward off any curious humans, but from the way they softly growled at us, they saw us as a threat, too, even with Jack as a tagalong.
Jack’s hand rose. “They’re with me. Old Leslie cleared them to see Roscoe.”
The guards parted and reluctantly allowed us to pass. The room we entered looked like I could fit my whole cottage inside it. From one end to the other, it was a palace for men who liked to play: pinball machines, luxurious black lounge chairs, a full bar. Not far from the pinball machines sat a large desk with a massive screen. The whole setup screamed gamer.
The only thing that seemed off about the room was the stacks of crates behind the pinball machines. Their strong metallic scent led me to suspect Roscoe’s boxes stored weapons, not holiday cheer like mine.
But the room wasn’t relatively empty of people. Only a few sets of eyes flicked in our direction. Jack led us all the way down to the end of the room, where a man sat at the desk playing on a computer. When you thought about crime rings and gangsters, you didn’t picture a guy around my dad’s age playing a computer game. At least I didn’t. I tilted my head slightly to the side to get a better view of the computer screen. A dark-haired man with a beak-like nose was playing World of Warcraft, but he wasn’t playing as just any old regular WoW character. He was playing as an elf—a well-endowed blood elf death knight who could also have been a real dark elf hooker snagging a john on a corner. Why he preferred to play as a woman wasn’t any of my business, I figured.
“Old Leslie told me to bring these people to come see you, Roscoe,” Jack said.
Roscoe flipped off his headset, giving us at least a part of his attention, though his right hand still flew across the keyboard, as if he planned to continue to fight orcs while he spoke to us. “What do you want?”
His black-eyed gaze swept from Alex to Thorn, and then finally his eyes rested on me—on my boobs anyway. His grin wasn’t attractive. Not with those oversized chompers. “Perhaps I need to make an addition to my stable.”
Most werewolf men who approached me didn’t say such things. When I walked around town, strangers would leer at me in my pencil skirt, but once they actually met me, my behavior told another tale—I wasn’t like all the other werewolf girls.
“What kind of place is this?” I asked Thorn.
“One that your father hadn’t meant for you to ever see,” he murmured. He kept his face forward, his eyes focused on the guards.
Even though Thorn wasn’t as large as them, the guards assessed him with wary, alert eyes.
“We’re here on business,” Thorn said.
“You men don’t look like the type who usually come looking for people like me.” He switched his gaze to Alex. “You’re rather scrawny.”
Lo
oking at the guards standing around us, I had to concede that he had a point. Alex matched my height of five foot seven. He had a muscular build and all, but he took after my mom, and she definitely didn’t have my father’s girth.
Roscoe’s gaze went to Thorn, and I wondered what the older man thought of him. But instead of lingering on Thorn, he assessed me. “I have plenty of men—but I could always use a pretty girl.”
“No, thanks,” I whispered. “You don’t want me in stock at your little store. I have cooties.”
At the same time, Thorn said, “She’s with me.”
Roscoe laughed. “Interesting. So, what does an alpha want in a place like this? No need to deny it. You practically have most of my men hungry to fight you.”
Three of the guards faced Thorn head-on, but no one else looked directly at him. They didn’t need eyes to see his stance. The way he filled space with his powerful presence.
“What is it? You lose a few thousand at the tables?” Roscoe’s bushy eyebrows danced. “You need to buy back the farm you came from?”
“Not exactly. I’m actually here looking for someone.” Thorn motioned for Alex to speak.
Alex seemed hesitant but stepped forward. “We’re looking for Fyodor Stravinsky. He had business here recently.”
Roscoe made a sarcastic snort. Then he rolled his tongue over his teeth. “What do you care for that ublyudok?”
I tried to take a step forward, but Thorn grabbed me. How dare Roscoe call my father a bastard? I tensed as the urge to attack him strengthened. Thorn’s hand on my hip tightened painfully.
Alex was far less reserved. In Russian, he spat back, “Watch your words if you value your tongue. Are you the man who owns his debt?”
“What if I am? Take your piss-poor honor back home, pup.” He sneered, revealing a single canine. In English, Roscoe said, “Grown men take care of their own moon debts.”
“I want to see my father,” I said.
Roscoe leaned forward, abandoning his computer game. “Do you know what it means to fulfill a moon debt, devushka?”
“I have an idea.” I also knew what a blood debt was, having recently had one on my own head for the death of another, but that had nothing to do with the problem at hand.
Thorn moved in front of me, but he couldn’t prevent Roscoe’s gaze from boring into me.
“A long time ago, when the Code was first being forged, men always paid their debts one week after the full moon, when they were fresh from the hunt and ready to fight. Since I saved your father’s life, he owes me such a debt.” Roscoe waited for me to speak, but when I didn’t he continued. “Have you ever been to Russia?”
He’d addressed the question to me, so I shook my head. He laughed at my frown, but I wasn’t ashamed. Traveling overseas to visit my distant relatives wasn’t a cheap affair. The Code was also strictly enforced over there. That made it low on my places to visit.
“When I first encountered your father in Russia, he was a businessman who supported the White Army. I, on the other hand, supported the Bolsheviks and their noble revolution.”
Since Thorn was a bit of a history buff, I didn’t need to play the role of an encyclopedia and fill him in on the Russian Civil War of the late 1910s. When my dad drank a few too many beers with my uncles, he’d tell us stories of his work with the White Army. None of them included Roscoe. He evidently had never gotten that drunk.
“As we always did, the party went from house to house to rally support among the citizens of St. Petersburg. When my comrades and I arrived at the Stravinsky home, we found quite a surprise.” Roscoe grinned. “It was a shame we uncovered White Army propaganda there. A few guns as well. At first my comrades wanted to search the house peacefully, but Fyodor’s father, Gregor, didn’t have the sense to give us entry.”
“So you just waltzed inside, huh?”
Thorn’s chin twitched. I really should behave, but an asshole like Roscoe brought out the worst in me.
“Gregor was a proud man, devushka. Since he was a White Army sympathizer, we had to search the house. But your grandfather Gregor had to open his big mouth and get Fyodor in trouble.” Roscoe chuckled. “When the other men held your grandfather down and threatened to kill him, your father made a foolhardy move against my men. He attacked them. Very successfully, I may add.
“Somehow, perhaps due to the fact that Fyodor’s a survivor, he managed to escape and elude my men—until I caught him not far from the house. He begged for the lives of his family, and I felt inclined to offer it since he promised to fulfill his moon debt when I was ready to call on it.”
“And what does he have to do?” Alex asked.
“That’s between Fyodor and me. But if you really want to know …” He smiled at me suggestively.
I rolled my eyes. The man had to be around my father’s age. Over a hundred and still horny for younger wolves. Good God. He took “dirty old man” to a new level.
“Stop checking out my goodies and tell us.”
Thorn’s head snapped in my direction. His expression warned me to shut up.
“Moon debts aren’t simple things, devushka. They require a sacrifice equivalent to the one made by the other person. I saved not only his life but his father’s and his ancestral home. Therefore, your father must do work for me before the end of this moon’s cycle.”
“Could you be more specific, please,” I mumbled. Why did some people feel the need to do this kind of stuff, drag things out all the time?
Roscoe continued. “Fyodor must first retrieve something that was stolen from me a long time ago. A family heirloom that was my great-grandmother’s. He needs to hurry before that piece-of-shit goblin dealer sells it off again. He’d trade my compact for one of those tires he loves so much.”
“ ‘First part’? You mean there’s more?” Alex asked. A faint buzz filled the air. The noise came from Alex’s leg. His phone. He ignored it and remained focused on Roscoe.
My first thought was that Dad wasn’t done. How could fetching an heirloom fulfill such a large debt?
“It should’ve been an easy in-and-out job. All he had to do was get me an antique compact case. He left around dawn yesterday and hasn’t returned.” Roscoe grinned. “It’s too bad he won’t fulfill his debt to me in time. Especially since I have more for him to do.”
I rested my hands on my hips when Thorn shook his head. “A compact case? Even if it’s a Romanov dynasty heirloom, I doubt such a simple task could take care of his debt.”
Roscoe continued. “The case has a few trinkets hidden inside that I’m interested in. A few stones.”
Stones as in precious stones, I’m sure. “Is that it? It still doesn’t seem enough. What else does he have to do?” I asked.
Thorn gave me an exasperated look and then said to Roscoe, “When Fyodor returns, could you kindly tell him to call his son or daughter? They’re concerned for his safety.”
Roscoe was all smiles. “Of course! I wouldn’t want Fyodor’s family to be in the dark over the whole thing. Right now his life belongs to me, but he’ll be safe and sound with them when the debt’s all cleared.”
“Why are you hiding things from us?” I couldn’t resist advancing forward.
One of the guards closed in fast, grabbing my shoulder. Thorn growled, ready to fight, but Roscoe’s hand shot up.
“No member of the debtor’s family may be harmed in my presence!” he thundered.
The tension in the room was thick enough to make it hard for me to breathe. The guard released me, keeping his eyes on Thorn.
Thorn took a step backward, pulling me with him—but Roscoe stopped him by offering a card. “There’s no need for us to part on such poor terms. My associates are rather protective of me.
“You might not be interested in a little spare cash right now, but you never know when a strong man like yourself might want some. Or maybe in the future you’ll need an extra hand or two to keep your pack safe and sound?”
Thorn’s face was even. “I’l
l be sure to think long and hard on it.”
Roscoe laughed. “I’m sure you will.”
Chapter 5
Goblins, like my boss, Bill, tended to keep to themselves. They even preferred not to work with other goblins—especially when it came to money. Bill always had his fist around a wad of cash, and he was paranoid about holding on to it.
The way he was always looking around outside and grumbling about how the older goblins made him pay a lot of money to keep The Bends open made it seem as though he was constantly under attack.
These little nuggets of information about goblins led me to where we needed to go to find out if Dad had met up with that black market dealer. Most goblins liked to sell their wares outside of the cities and along major roads, because the city was far too busy and cluttered with other supernaturals. The goblin black marketer we were looking for would most likely not operate in the city. If we wanted to find him, we’d have to follow our noses. For example, if he sold or collected rubber tires, I could find him easily enough. Rubber had a distinct scent. A bit overpowering, in fact. Of course, Google would provide enough information for me to locate all the tire distributors along the Expressway, but our noses would reveal the exact location of his place just as effectively, if not more so.
Before we could set out, though, we had to wait for Alex to finish talking on the phone.
“Are you sure, Heather?” he asked. “Does my mom know that my wife is in labor?” Heather was his wife’s former roommate—a fellow wood nymph.
While I did a little search on the Internet, I couldn’t help but overhear most of the conversation. As I listened, joy filled my heart … and dread soured my stomach. It was time for my brother to go home—he was going to be a father soon.
Kept: A Coveted Novel Page 5
