Aviere raked her hand away and met Leonard’s defeated eyes, fretting about her meeting with the Bruden Pack’s Alpha. The beer in her left hand served as a peace offering for missing Joe’s phone calls, but she wet her lips, reminding herself about Joe’s overprotective nature over her. She patted the side of her large black purse, reassured by clanking glass rubbing against her keys.
Two beers should placate Joseph until his shipment arrives this evening. In the meantime, he better hand me Jet, cause I need my vehicle.
She thanked Maurice for stashing the bottles in her purse and forced a reassuring smile when Leonard brooded, crossing his arms across his chest. The werewolf’s expression mimicked her reservations—unsure and full of trepidation.
Aviere brandished the glass bottle like a gun, holding it to the side when she headed down the slate-gray pathway. A grim expression settled on her face with no hope of changing unless good fortune smiled her way.
The Poisoner sighed and sniffed the air, sensing her friend’s distress from the other side of the hall.
I shouldn’t be shocked at Joe’s makeshift office, but refining an automatic garage into a vintage workshop’s skillful and sophisticated.
Aviere tiptoed inside the tiny office, slowly pushing her back against the door to close it. She marveled at the old license plates hanging on the walls, dating anywhere from the 1900s to the current century. Car emblems displayed between state license plates, light reflecting off the shiny, polished surfaces. Wooden planks leaned on the wall to her left, held in place with greasy toolboxes on the floor.
He’s finally trying to make it an office. I’ll be damned.
A deep snort diverted Aviere’s attention, and she turned to the chiseled man nodding off in his chair. Aviere rubbed her throat, lowering her eyes to peer closer at Joe’s rugged appearance. The torn jean vest she’d grown used to, along with the simple black cotton t-shirts, but the unkempt salt and pepper goatee and wild hairs worried her. Crew cut graying black hair shined with grease and Aviere noticed the holes in the black tee shirt. Slivers of blue jeans and brown steel toe boots bore oil and grease stains, matching the ones on the toolbox and the floor.
Joe’s been busy, I see. He working on another secret project?
Brown eyes shined playfully as Joe blinked, cracking his back and straightening in his seat. Bangs etched under his eyes, but he waved with a synchronized smile. “About time, Vi. I called.”
Aviere stormed over to his desk and shoved the phone in his face, sliding the glass bottle across the front of a black Ford truck serving as Joe’s desk. “Fourteen times, Joe?”
“I wanted my beer.” The man grabbed the bottle. “Thanks, doll. Move the brakes so you can sit, Vi.”
A spare plastic picnic chair rested next to the one Joe mentioned, tarped with rusted parts on top. As Aviere sat, the top popped from the bottle and spun on the closed hood. In seconds, Joe downed the malted beer, holding a hand out to Aviere.
“I smell another one, Vi. Don’t hold out when you’ve ignored me all week.”
Just once, I want to talk to someone without an addiction, Aviere thought, twisting her mouth in a grim expression as Joe loomed over the desk. I know Joseph’s my best friend, but he’s useless and vile when he’s sober. Lim’s always high and flaky, so I never know if he’ll pull through or what he’s thinking. As for Reese—
“Vi, give me the goddamn bottle,” her best friend said, voice rumbling and bordering on a growl. “I’ve been sober for a week and I can’t take anymore.”
No point in asking Joseph questions until the poisoned beverage hits his bloodstream.
Aviere’s hands twitched, but she retrieved the golden-brown bottle, edging it near his reach.
“Sweet mother of God, I’ve missed my alcohol.” Unlike the other bottle, Joe lifted it softly and took his time popping off the cap, placing it on the desk after taking a long swig. “Thank god, you brought the smooth shit. I’m starting to care about things.”
“Joseph, we’ve went over this. You’re supposed to care about your boys. They can’t rely on an Alpha who’s coldhearted. The boys are the only reason I make your brew.”
“Don’t feed me bullshit, Vi. You hate when I go barhopping and get phone calls about destroyed property.”
Aviere shrugged. “That too. But one day—”
“Suggest permanent sobriety and I’ll destroy the fucking car.”
She put a hand to her glasses and chuckled slowly, crossing a leg over her knee. She shifted in the chair, watching her friend cover his face with a hand. “Not my suggestion, but whatever.”
“Look, I’m not supposed to care about their relationships, Vi. Christ, if I hear Leo bitch about his girlfriend again, I’ll throw him out the goddamn window. Stupid fuck knows better than making plans when I’m cross. He’s been my beta for almost two decades now. You’d think he’d know better.”
“Yeah.”
“But while you’re here, maybe you can clear something up for me.” Joe leaned forward and crossed his hands together on the desk. “How did you get in trouble? I’d expect Limere, but never you.”
She rubbed her forearms and kept silent, unsure of what to say. Body heat radiated from her lithe frame and her cheeks flushed as she batted bangs from her eyes.
Joe banged his elbows on the metal as he hunched over the hood. “What the hell happened, Aviere?”
Guess Joseph’s got to know sometime. Goddammit, Vi…
Aviere plucked the glove from her wrist, revealing the LED-screened silver bracelet. Sapphire eyes darkened, thinking of Lowell Sanderson and the two federal agents following her. “Sanderson, Joseph.”
Joe snatched her wrist and inspected the silver bracelet on her wrist. “Goddammit, Vi. I hoped the Renegades would leave you alone. They’ve taken enough from us.”
A flash of silver blinded Aviere’s left eye. When she squinted and compensated with her right, a Gerber knife probed at the bracelet.
“It’s a hell of a prototype. Never seen one with the fancy timer going by hours and days. Jemina’s must be an older model.”
The mention of Joe’s busty girlfriend made Aviere’s lips tighten as she spoke in a brash tone. “The last person I’d consider going to is Jemina, Joseph. She’d make me bankrupt and delight in taking all my money.”
“You might have to, Vi.” Joe released her wrist and relaxed in his wheeled black office chair, a whimsical expression in his tired eyes. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t take your money.”
“Hell no. I hate that bitch.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re angry. If you really hated her, you’d have tried killing her in high school.” He glanced at the ceiling, scratching his goatee. “Oh, you did. I almost forgot about that.”
“No amount of bribery or concern will make me willingly work with her, JJ,” Aviere declared. “Jemina’s willing to sell anyone’s soul for the right price, except yours.”
A smirk played on the werewolf’s lips. “When you got kids with the devil, there’s room for negotiation. But stop bantering and explain how the hell you’re involved with the Renegades.”
Aviere sighed in exasperation, hoping to avoid the conversation. “Long story.”
“Start with lockup—not how you killed four cops joyriding in plain sight on I-295.”
“I didn’t—”
“Now.” Joe grabbed the beer and took another long swig, leaving a third of the bottle left. “Before I run out of alcohol, Vi.”
“The feds and the Renegades are in a joint investigation, investigating high profile deaths of the hierarchy. Apparently, someone’s icing people in the Underground with poison.”
The knife dropped with a sickening thud against the metal hood. “Shit.”
“It gets better.” Aviere licked her lips, wetting them as Joe took another small sip. “In lockup, Lowell Sanderson sent agents to apprehend me. The feds questioning me fought against Sanderson, even though one works for him. And because Eisen died
last night, someone went to my apartment to kill me, but ransacked the place. Lim and Reese—”
“How did you get captured, Vi?” Joe rolled the chair to a black mini-fridge and handed her a box of pineapple-flavored coconut water. “Drink, then take your meds before the guy finds out about your condition.”
“I’ll take it when I can sleep.” She twisted the cap off and drank, humming in approval at the tangy pineapple flavor. “Thanks, JJ. I needed this.”
The werewolf nodded, then waved his hand. “Continue.”
“Long story short—the agent busted my window as Lim and I headed home. Course, I got hotheaded—some unknown touched my baby. Problem is, someone swapped my vials, so instead of the paralysis—”
“I get it.”
“Hemlock, JJ. Asshole chased me with fucking hemlock in his system.” Two knuckles rested under her chin. “Why didn’t he die?”
“The more important question is—why did you let him chase you?” Joe stretched his legs and banged his steel toe boots on the metal makeshift desk. “Careless, Vi.”
“Mage, one with powers almost as strong as Lim,” she said with a snarl. “You know they can track easily. And because of Limere, Sanderson forced me to work with Travis.” She rubbed her temples. “But I don’t know what this guy’s like other than his powers. Oh, and he dressed like a detective gone to the Wild West. Who wears a cowboy hat and a trench coat in Baltimore City, JJ? It’s 102 outside and—”
“What color’s his coat?” Joe demanded.
“Tan. Worn, but still tan. He’s a rogue, not with the Red Coat Society.”
Aviere noted the long pause and the dark look on her friend’s face. “If your agent’s not affiliated with them, something’s up. Sanderson’s got leverage and needs him for something. He survived, after all.”
“Christ, I don’t need this. I won’t be able to race if shit keeps happening.” Aviere rested her head on the table. “Everything’s happening too fast, JJ. I don’t want to deal with bullshit. Racing’s not meant to be this damn complicated.”
“You might lose racing too, Vi.”
Aviere looked at him, then deflated. “Christ, why?”
“We’re thinking of canceling the race on Saturday because of everything going on. It’s too dangerous.”
“No!”
“Maurice’s worried sick you’ll implicate yourself by doing something stupid. He’s already pissed and vented to Leo for four hours last night, trying to drink himself stupid. Limere’s edgy—nothing new with your brother, but I guess it’s different when you’re the one in trouble. Even he wants you to lie low. Least, that’s what I gathered when he talked to my daughter this morning.”
The boxed container of coconut water exploded when Aviere squeezed it hard. “I need something, JJ. I’m not making enough money to pay bills and make my meds anymore.”
“You’ll get the rest of us caught if your new partner or the killer follows you to where we are. You’ll lose all your support if they arrest us. At least this way, you’d still be able to get the supplies to make your meds for everyone.”
Aviere rose and locked her eyes on Joe’s sienna-colored ones, imploring him to change his mind. “The Renegades promised everyone else’s safety, Joseph. Reese, Lim, you. But I can still race between Sanderson’s stupid assignments.” Aviere choked, then forced herself to breathe normally. “Sanderson agreed to tell me about Gunther if I cooperated. He admitted he had information.”
The werewolf’s eyes simmered at her news. “I see.”
“He’s your friend too, JJ,” she whispered. “Gunther wouldn’t give up on us—on me. It’s something I need to do—I can’t live with what-if scenarios anymore or what could have been. Either he’s alive, or he’s dead—but I need to find out so I can go forward.”
Aviere climbed on the hood and gasped when it collapsed underneath her. She winced when she landed on concrete, but raised her eyes to meet her best friend’s conflicted gaze. Eventually, Joe sighed, helping her off the ground and softening his voice when he regarded her.
“Fine, Vi. But be careful. Tell your agent to stop pissing off the dons and donnas. Otherwise, he’ll kill your best resources. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can find and talk to Jemina.”
“No.” Aviere looked to the door, tilting her head at muffled sounds outside the door. “Don’t tell her.”
“She’ll find out, Vi,” Joe warned her. “But you can race when everything settles. Just tell Limere to get me my beer before I kill someone.”
The muffled noises grew louder. “Yeah. Thanks, JJ.”
Car keys thudded in her palm and Aviere’s fist curled around them. “Make sure you call me. If you don’t—I’ll—the fuck is that stench?!”
From the crack underneath the door, Aviere identified familiar, pungent aftershave and twitched her nose.
You fool, she seethed, throwing open the office door. You dare step foot in a werewolf’s territory unannounced and unprotected?! Oh my god, he’ll—Joseph—
“Aviere, who the hell is this asshole?!”
Aviere grabbed the seething agent and shoved Travis against the door, shutting it once more. “Joseph, meet my complication.”
The stunned agent pointed at himself. “Me, Mye?”
“Yes, Travis,” Aviere answered softly. “You’re a brazen fool. One doesn’t waltz into werewolf territory unless they’re looking for a death wish.”
“You went outside the tracking collar’s range for a vehicle,” Travis reminded her in a frigid tone. “Ten more seconds and we would’ve lost our limbs.”
Aviere jumped when Joe pulled her close with a beefy arm by her shoulder. “I see what you mean, Vi. Your man needs to lose the outfit. No one will talk to him in those western-style clothes.”
The Poisoner smiled after smelling Travis’ fear, but sighed when the agent pressed himself against the metal door.
“No one talks to agents, shifter.”
“We don’t talk to cops or detectives,” Joe argued. “You’ll attract the wrong people wearing that shit. Jesus Christ, didn’t you learn anything about discretion?” The werewolf pressed Aviere to him until her shoulder hurt. “And everyone expects me to be okay with you being partnered with this moron, Vi?”
Aviere tried prying Joe’s hand off her shoulder, but it remained locked in place despite her motions.
“Mye, you bitch about caution, but you’re telling outsiders about our situation. Informing your friends isn’t protecting them.”
“At least my best friend isn’t so neurotic I’d contemplate suicide every time I dealt with them,” Aviere said with a vicious smile. “Besides, Joseph’s woman works with you—or should I say us, now. Ugh, that’s a hard pill to swallow, JJ.”
“Either way—your friends aren’t supposed to know.”
The fear-tinted scent turned to a mixture of anger and annoyance, extending his pungent scent. Aviere groaned when Travis reached for his weapon, putting a hand over her face.
“Travis, don’t.”
“I’m not letting the shifter take my fucking head off, Mye.”
“Travis, please—”
Aviere yelped when a loud noise crashed behind her.
Her head inched around toward the noise, groaning again when she spotted Joe’s fist resting inside the drywall. Large pieces of the thin wall littered the ground at Joe’s feet. The werewolf’s fingers dug further into her shoulder, keeping her in place. Hot breath tickled her ear and Joe’s scent deepened in her nostrils, making her stomach turn.
Christ, Joseph might kill him before we do anything. But he’s right to lash out. At least Joseph hasn’t killed him. Gunther wouldn’t be so generous.
“Aviere, I need my fucking beer. Make it extra strong so I can deal with this bullshit. Jet’s in the holding bay, so take the rent-a-agent and leave before I forget you’re keeping him alive. Call me later.”
The Poisoner snatched Travis’ wrist and flung him out of the room once she opened the door, jumping w
hen heavy footsteps thudded behind her. When the door slammed behind her, Aviere sighed in relief, yet her chest heaved as she took long, deep breaths.
After five minutes of silence, Aviere turned to face Travis with her arms folded across her chest. She stewed over the encounter with Joe and waited for Travis to say something. The Poisoner never expected an apology, but the way the agent remained silent seemed out of character, despite knowing him for less than 24 hours.
Christ, say something, Travis. You held up better when I tried killing you. Then again, Joseph scares everyone when he’s mad, especially when he’s sober. I can’t blame Travis, I suppose…
“Travis, why didn’t you wait until I left the shop to get me?”
Silence followed and Aviere stomped her foot, thinking of Maurice earlier in the morning. She wouldn’t be ignored a second time.
Aviere stood on her tiptoes, head reaching Travis’ chest. “Were you trying to get yourself killed in there with Joseph, Travis? Did you think about the consequences of—”
“Just get your car so we can leave,” Travis murmured. “He’s got other werewolves down the hall and I don’t want to deal with them.”
Thank god. Let’s go before he acts weird again. I’d prefer the cold killer to this side of him.
Aviere’s tiny pink lips parted when she chuckled, resting a hand over her chest. “You won’t die with me, Travis. But you’re right—let’s hurry.”
The door creaked open and her purse dropped next to her foot. Aviere blinked when Travis edged away, then glanced at the contents lying on top her purse. The door slammed closed, but she focused on the replacement box of coconut water, and a silver credit card with a Post-it note attached to the front.
Good. He’s not too pissed at me and I’ll see the others at their place. Excellent.
“Let’s go, Travis,” she said, pocketing the items inside her purse. “I’ll order lunch on the way. I don’t think either one of us ate and hunger isn’t good for working.”
“And here I thought you’d waste more time with stupid ideas.”
Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga Page 10
