Shift Work (Carus #4)

by J. C. McKenzie

  “Show me.” Donny interrupted my internal musings.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Show me the hieroglyph.”

  “You’re an expert?”

  “I’ve been around for a long time.”

  My chest tightened as I pulled out the torn letterhead from my pocket, the one we retrieved from Loretta’s storage locker. Without a word, I smoothed it on the edge of the desk before sliding it across the smooth surface toward Donny.

  He grunted.

  “What?”

  “I’m glad you’re not an investigator. Your handling of evidence is atrocious.”

  My fingers twitched, but I laced them together before I did something stupid, like flash Donny an inappropriate gesture. “One, there were tons of these retrieved at the scene, and two…”

  “Two?”

  Two, Stan and I didn’t plan to go through the legal system for justice. I bit my lip and shrugged at Donny. He probably wouldn’t rat on us, but he didn’t deserve becoming an accessory.

  Donny’s mouth twitched as he reached forward and snatched the crumpled paper from my hand. He flipped it over. And stilled.

  His slight smile drooped into a flat line. Like a Vampire, Donny seemed to withdraw into the recesses of his mind, his body froze and his eyes trained on the paper before going blank and distant.

  My scalp prickled.

  Fly away, my falcon screeched.

  Donny definitely recognized the symbol and from his reaction the information was bad, real bad. My sissy falcon kept flapping her wings in my head, wanting to get away before another knowledge bomb dropped.

  Would Donny even share the truth with me? Or would he try to hide it? Donny played his own game, one that had never harmed me before, but first time for everything. As one of the oldest Shifters I’d met, Donny obviously played his game very well.

  After three million ticks of the second hand, or thereabouts, Donny’s stiff posture loosened; as if every muscle relaxed from his heart outward as he came back to reality.

  He cleared his throat and slid the paper back to me.

  “Please don’t bullshit me,” I said.

  “You swear too much.” Donny’s voice had dropped an octave and gained some gravel. He cleared his throat again.

  “They’re sentence enhancers, not swear words.”

  Donny smirked, but the humour had drained from his face when he saw the logo.

  “You recognize the symbol.” Statement. Not a question.

  “I do.”

  “Will you tell me what it means?”

  He pushed back from his desk and clasped his hands. His gaze drifted off into never-never-land again for a minute. “I’m deciding whether it’s better for your health to remain ignorant.”

  “Ignorance is rarely bliss.”

  “It might be in this case.”

  My blood pressure increased and an ache developed behind my eyes. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will, even if I have to fly to Egypt.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “I’m pretty badass, Donny.”

  “Not badass enough,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me? There’re very few individuals who can best me in a one-on-one fight when I’m in beast form.”

  Except Demons, my beast hissed.

  “At least, not on this plane of existence,” I added. “You don’t need to protect me, Donny. Besides, remaining ignorant might be more dangerous for me, since I don’t plan on stopping my investigation.”

  Donny nodded slowly, his shaggy white hair fanning his face. “You’re right, very few can best you. Very few still means some.”

  A slight chill travelled through my body. “This is one of the few?”

  Donny nodded again.

  “Then tell me who or what I’m dealing with. I’d rather go into this with full disclosure than get blindsided. I’m not going to stop just because the bad guy is scary.” Inside, my gut twisted into a complicated knot.

  “Are you sure about that? This may mean your death.”

  “They killed my friend’s wife. Someone I care about. Yes, I’m sure.” Truth.

  Donny pursed his lips.

  “Tell me. Which of the few ass-kickers am I up against?”

  “The Pharaoh.”

  ****

  The plastic of the chair creaked as I shifted my weight. Goosebumps prickled along my spine and settled like cold icicles at the base of my skull.

  Donny sat across the desk, observing me like a puzzle with a missing piece. His craggy skin bunched up between his two white shaggy eyebrows.

  “The Pharaoh?” I asked. “The ridiculously old Vampire who makes the new ones all pee themselves when he’s mentioned?”

  Donny chuckled. “You’ve met him?”

  “Briefly. At a NAVA convention when I served Lucien.”

  “What did you think?” He drummed his fingertips on his desk.

  “Old. He smelled old, like frail, deteriorating parchment, yet powerful.”

  A pause. “You can’t best him as you currently are.”

  “Time to hit the gym?”

  “It will take more than a six-pack to best the Pharaoh.”

  My skin rankled. I grunted. “So what’s the hieroglyph?”

  “Few know it. It’s from the past, his past. From a time when he ruled as a pharaoh in ancient Egypt. The hieroglyph is a symbol of his name, from the time before he was turned.”

  “Is there anything else you know about him that would be helpful?”

  “No. The Pharaoh is subtle though. If he wants Vancouver as a territory, he’ll take it. If he wants King’s Krank on the street, he’ll do it.”

  “Why would he want KK on the street?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that myself.”

  “And?”

  “I got nothing. The pharmaceutical company must play a part somehow.”

  Tancher Pharmaceutical. The drug company specialized in research. The company, KK, Aahil, and now the Pharaoh were connected; Donny was right, if the Pharaoh wanted KK on the streets, he had enough power to make it happen. So why the charade of the drug company?

  A thought hit my brain, so dark and twisted it made my neurons recoil. My mouth grew sour and nausea heaved in my stomach.

  Research. The Pharaoh had the drug company researching KK, which meant the introduction of King’s Krank to the streets also served a purpose.

  “Human trials,” I gasped. “They released KK on the streets to test it on humans.”

  Ma’ii and Donny growled in unison.

  “Motherfuckers,” I said. My nails dug into the soft skin of my palms as I clenched my fists tight. My gums tingled, canines aching to elongate and sink into someone’s flesh. The human trials must’ve been what Loretta stumbled upon. And it got her killed.

  Hunt, my mountain lion hissed.

  Destroy, my beast growled.

  The falcon let out an eardrum-shattering screech and demanded we fly away to expunge the grime still coating my neurons. After a hurried goodbye to Donny and Ma’ii, and a thirty minute drive home, I gave her what she wanted.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Why do people say, ‘Grow some balls’? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you want to be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.”

  ~Betty White

  Stan’s hotel room reeked of old popcorn kernels, and a slew of alcohol. The air remained stiff and stagnant, invisibly weighed down by Stan’s grief.

  Stan hauled me into the main room when I knocked on the door. Now he paced in front of me, back and forth, wearing down the already worn carpet, to the point of exposing the concrete underneath.

  “Dish it, Andy. I waited,” he said.

  “I know. You sure you don’t want to sit down? It’s a doozy.”

  “Andy!”

  I held my hands up. This involved his wife’s murder. I got that, but I also had no idea how to share the information in a tactful way. Sensibility training wasn’t e
xactly a mandatory requirement when the SRD trained me as an assassin.

  Just spit it out. Factual. Concise. Without emotion. Like I handled all the other big reveals in my life. I might lack finesse, but at least I didn’t spray poop with perfume and call it roses.

  “Okay, Stan. Loretta stumbled upon Tancher Pharmaceuticals’ real purpose in Vancouver. They’re manufacturing KK and releasing it to the public as a form of human trials for their research. Aahil must be the main drug dealer spearheading the operation, but an ancient and extremely dangerous Vampire, simply known as the Pharaoh, is behind the whole thing. He’s bad. Like super bad.”

  “Really? Super bad?”

  “Donny, my old handler at the SRD, doesn’t think I could take him in beast form.”

  Stan blanched. “Beast form?”

  I winced. “Oh, right. Haven’t told you about that. In summary, even my most dangerous form can’t stand against this guy, and that’s saying a lot.”

  Stan shook his head, mumbling “beast form,” a couple of times. He finally straightened, and pinned me with a steely gaze. “What’s your plan?”

  “I want to make sure the Pharaoh is out of town and then take down the pharmaceutical company with the VPD. We stop their operation and raid their servers for more information. That way we can take down everyone involved. Later, after the dust settles, you get Aahil. After the fact, and off the books, so you can walk away from whatever you decide to do.”

  Stan blinked.

  “We’ll weaken the Pharaoh’s hold on Vancouver. Not sure how to defeat him in the long run, but at least we’ll take care of the KK threat and Aahil.”

  Stan nodded. “I like it.”

  My mouth twitched. Stan wasn’t exactly heavy with the compliments.

  “We need surveillance,” Stan said. “Information on the building plans, and their security system. I’ll get the tech team on it, but they take time.”

  The word “security” sent a pang to my heart, followed swiftly with hollow longing. “I know someone for the security side of things.”

  Stan grunted. “Let’s get this done.”

  ****

  Once again the large red double doors of Tristan’s Port Moody home stared back at me, daring me to run away or knock, mocking me, questioning whether I was good enough for the man on the other side. From the fierce bouquet of lemon with a pinch of pepper, Tristan already knew I stood here. I’d surprised him by coming to his place.

  The citrus and sunshine scent of the pack permeated around the house, but a certain stiffness weighed it down.

  Did they think I planned to break up with Tristan?

  That would make Angie happy.

  Break up with Tristan?

  My heart dropped in my chest.

  Could I live without him?

  My stomach rolled. No. I couldn’t.

  Could I forgive him for killing my birth parents? Could I accept his history, and share mine with him? I had shameful things in my past as well. I’d used people…and myself.

  My breathing hitched, and the answer to my unspoken question remained hidden.

  Hadn’t I dumped Wick for less? My gut grew heavy and an invisible weight plunked down on my shoulders as the recurrent thought niggled at my brain.

  Wick was probably laughing his ass off at the karma of the situation. Laughing with Christine.

  Yeesh!

  I slapped my palm against my forehead. Repeatedly. Wick’s thoughts on this matter were irrelevant. And who he was with didn’t change anything. I’d made my choice and whatever was going on right now was between me and Tristan. I had to wipe thoughts of Wick completely away. Wick was then. Tristan is now.

  Andy, you’re killing me. Tristan’s voice filled my head. Usually deep and smooth he sounded rougher, more gravelly. Are you coming in?

  “Yes.” I spoke to the door. Yes.

  The door swung open and a disheveled angel in baggy sweats stood before me. A plain white shirt emphasized his broad shoulders and fit body. My first instinct was to run my hands up his six-pack, tracing each defined muscle before resting on his strong pecs. His citrus and sunshine scent laced around me, the honeysuckles of his leopard teased my mountain lion and beckoned for her to come play. My pulse picked up and warmth flushed my body. Uncharacteristic stubble darkened Tristan’s face and accentuated his piercing blue eyes. I wanted to drown in their pools of sadness.

  “I’ve missed you.” His jaw clenched and yellow flashed in his eyes. His Alpha power rode him hard not to play docile or patient with me. His fists clenched, yet he remained immobile, waiting for me to say something, do something.

  His strength over his animal still impressed me.

  “I need your help,” I said.

  He rocked back on his heels, and his lips flattened. “Andy—”

  I held my hand out to stop his protest.

  He growled.

  “I know it’s a dick move to ask something of you when I asked for time, but I really do need your help. It’s not for me.”

  “Stan?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tristan sighed and then stepped aside. “Of course, I’ll help you. Come in.”

  In the living room, I quickly outlined the story and what I needed. Tristan simply nodded and led me to his bedroom.

  “Um…” I looked around. For the first time, Tristan’s house was completely void of pride members and various items lay strewn across the place giving the whole home a messy appearance. Not that I cared. I was in no position to judge housekeeping skills. The only time my place looked spotless was when I procrastinated from getting other things done. Or I expected guests.

  “I sent them all away,” Tristan muttered as he dug around in his drawers and pulled out clothes. “They’re taking vacations, visiting family, or staying somewhere else. A lot of the pride kept their places from the Ethan days. Sometimes even felines need a break from their prides. We’re a small group. The ones who work for me are staying in the rooms at the office.”

  I nodded, not that he could see me. The majority of the pride lived at Tristan’s since Ethan’s death. The silence and emptiness of the place bore down on me like a lead blanket.

  When Tristan threw the blue shirt I loved so much on the bed, he spun to face me. “I will find a way for you to forgive me.” His gaze drilled into mine.

  I looked at my feet.

  Coward, my mountain lion hissed. Not submissive.

  No, but not nearly as dominant as Tristan.

  “I want to,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “I want to forgive you. I want to get passed this, but…” Feradea help me! I sounded like a broken record. How many times would I push a good man away?

  “You need time to process?” Tristan bit out. His tone was soft, but it carried an edge. As if he understood why, but didn’t like it. “I’ll give you whatever you need, Andy, but don’t push me away. Let me help you.”

  “You are helping me.”

  “Not just with Stan’s stuff. With everything. Let me be here for you.” He reached out and gently squeezed my shoulder, letting his hand slide down my arm until he held my hand.

  “Where are we going?” I asked

  Tristan raised his dark brow.

  “You’re pulling clothes out of your dresser. You’re not the type to make up an excuse just to change in front of me.”

  Tristan’s lips twitched into a smile for the first time since I arrived. His white teeth flashed as he released my hand. Whoosh! He shucked his sweatpants off, and his shirt followed to provide a world-class view. With a solid defined six-pack, my gaze naturally followed the indented V down to…

  Perfection. A view that was all mine, if I claimed it, if I marked the soft skin of his fragrant neck during the throes of passion.

  Mine, the mountain lion hissed.

  The falcon squawked.

  “We’re going to my office,” Tristan said as he pulled the blue shirt on and stepped into dark denim jeans.

  Going co
mmando. Feradea, help me.

  Tristan had never taken me to the office, saying he didn’t like to mix business with pleasure. I understood. The SRD and VPD headquarters hardly made for good date destinations, but curiosity nipped away at my mountain lion and my mind, and I would’ve found some excuse sooner or later to visit Tristan at work and have a looksee.

  Now, it seemed, an excuse wasn’t necessary. It was show and tell day at the office.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “It’s strange, isn’t it? You stand in the middle of a library and go ‘aaaaagghhhh’ and everyone just stares at you. But you do the same thing on an aeroplane, and everyone joins in.”

  ~Tommy Cooper

  The simple-styled business building with reflective windows and four stories loomed over me as we approached. Kayne Security Solutions owned its name and offered a bevy of personal and business solutions for safety and security of people, information, possessions, and property. Electronic security systems, personal security detail, temporary guards—it provided everything for a pretty price. I searched it on the internet. Months ago.

  No wonder Tristan drove the latest hybrid sports car, and ripped out of designer clothes with little thought. He did very well for himself.

  The drive over had been quiet, but tense. Even with the windows cracked, Tristan’s delicious scent bottled up in the confined space. Part of me wanted to launch my body across the center console and lick him all over like a lollipop, and the other part of me drowned in self-loathing that I’d even consider jumping the man when I hadn’t figured out how I felt about our situation. If Tristan’s leather seats could’ve swallowed me whole, I would’ve gladly welcomed it.

  Now, as we walked to the main doors, the man beside me vibrated with warmth and love. I wanted to reach out and touch him. But I didn’t. Why? Why did I hold back? For something he did in his past before he knew me? For having to serve a sadistic Master Vampire that made Lucien look like Bambi? For having the strength to be honest with me instead of trying to hide his shame? For some convoluted belief I should be angry and upset at him when all I wanted was…