by Gaja J. Kos
Not that I could have said a fucking word with my gaze fixed on the screen, shifting between the two players, Westmann and Schwab.
But more importantly, their initial allotted slots.
I’d stared at the brackets long enough when I’d still been only a coach and not one of the competitors that I knew them by heart. The slots…
They were the exact ones Christian and Rihard would have occupied, had they still been in the running.
“Motherfucker,” I whispered.
I tapped the browser icon and did a quick search, then threw the phone on the table.
Waitlist.
Neither of the players would have made it into the Games on their own if the two positions hadn’t opened up. And they certainly wouldn’t have stood a chance against seasoned players such as Linus or Rosalie. Shit. We’d been approaching this from the wrong angle the entire fucking time.
My stomach twisted into a painful knot, but I forced myself to look at Isa.
“Nill…” My nails dug into my palms. “Someone used it as a means to pave a bloody fucking way straight into the tournament.”
16
Despite the unofficial rule that players should keep to the compound grounds where avid fans couldn’t bother us, Alec and I went for a run down the trails leading west. There weren’t that many people out in this part of the Olympiapark, although for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
Sure, it seemed a little rougher around the edges, but that’s what nature was supposed to be like. Besides, given the light rain that fell overnight, the privacy here was far superior than what the indoor track could offer with everybody hiding there in an effort to keep their feet from getting wet.
I snorted mentally. As if we weren’t werewolves…
“So you really think someone is trying to rig the competition?” Alec asked as we cut across the dewy grass. “Don’t get me wrong, we’ve both seen people do a lot of shit to get that elusive fame—”
“And money.”
“And that, too.” He let loose a hissing breath. “But killing the athletes? That’s excessive…”
“Linus is still alive,” I offered and ducked under a low branch. “Maybe their intention wasn’t death, just disqualification.”
Even as I said it, the statement sounded weak. Unbelievable.
No, there were a thousand different ways to get someone out of the way if their goal was mere disqualification. But even on the off chance that whoever was behind this did opt for Nill without realizing the gravity of the consequences, then that was just as bad as if they had distributed the lethal drug with the intent of snatching lives.
Negligence wasn’t an excuse.
Either way, we were knee-deep in shit creek, and I had a suspicion it wouldn’t be that long before we started to drown in the fucking thing.
“We need to be careful, Alec.” I sighed. “Schwab and Westmann might be outsiders, but Isa’s source said it was someone from the Zentrum who bought the drug…”
He cut a glance my way as we rounded a corner. “I promise I won’t take any unknown pills, Lotte.”
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled.
Alec stopped and pulled me to a halt by his fingers around my wrist. “The two impostor players are in the singles tournament. I think we’ll be all right.”
I wanted to believe him, I really did, but… I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Just swear that you’ll keep your senses open.”
“I will.” His fingers trailed down my back. “I will.”
I swallowed a sob and buried my head in the nook between his neck and shoulder. “Good. I’d hate to lose you now that you’ve dragged me out of retirement.”
Alec barked out a laugh, and I peered up just enough to see the devious glint in his eyes. “Trust me, even if you’d have to get a necromancer to pull me from the grave, I’d stand by you until the end.”
I smacked his shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”
“But an asshole who has every intention of winning today.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “That is, if you’re done fussing over my well-being and making us late for the match.”
“I’m not—”
But I was.
I swore, viciously, then grabbed Alec by his hand and pulled him back onto the path.
It was common knowledge that the majority of players liked to kick back after a match, rest their aching muscles and clear their heads to analyze the game. Me? I had two disgustingly lively werewolves growling in my living room, opening cans of Paulaner as if I’d already won the bloody tournament, not just the match.
I shook my head at Jürgen’s massive grin.
“You massacred them with those forehands.” He whistled. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I saw you dish out so many winners in a row.”
Which wasn’t an entirely welcomed practice in doubles since they were based on team tactics, rather than single shots designed to seal the deal, but Alec and I had enough years behind us to indulge in a few liberties when the circumstances were right.
It helped that Alec was a natural setter while I was a hitter, but that didn’t mean we could stick to those roles the entire time.
We could, however, force the opposing team into situations where it was safe for me to take over the terminator role even when I was the crosscourt player.
My down-the-line shots never failed to win us the point, and our switches between the net and baseline were fast enough to cover the court on the off chance a lob would come soaring back.
Good times.
I leveled my gaze at Jürgen. “The only reason you missed so many winners is because you were always too busy drowning yourself in beer and sex down in Ljubljana to come for a match.”
“Hey,” Jürgen cried, but Jens only nodded solemnly.
“She’s right, you know.”
“We were also fighting the good fight,” Jürgen offered. “A were needs a little something to brighten up dark times.”
I snorted, but couldn’t keep the smile from tugging on my lips at Jürgen's sullen—and guilty—expression.
“I know.” I scooted over and threw an arm around his shoulders. “What you two did, everything—from facing the Upirs head-on, to picking up the pieces after the War… Nothing can compare to that.”
“Aw, sis, are you actually complimenting us on something?” Jens sandwiched me from the other side.
“I compliment you on a lot of things.”
“Beer-drinking abilities don’t count,” he cut in.
“Oh.” I said with false gravity, then chuckled. “Then yes, I am complimenting you on this. It’s just”—I nestled myself deeper in their comforting warmth—“between Christian and Rosalie, I realized I’m really not all that good at handling death. But you two…”
“Jens,”—Jürgen went perfectly rigid—“I think she’s about to admit we’re better at something than she is.”
“By the gods,” his twin breathed, laying a hand across his heart. “I think this calls for another round of beer.”
I snarled at both of them, but the sound quickly turned into a laugh. If there was anyone who could push back the darkness, it was definitely these two assholes.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” I asked once I was fairly certain I could keep a straight face while looking at their ridiculous matching grins. “I have some time on the court scheduled with Alec, but the rest of the day, I’m free.”
I didn’t mention that I still had some snooping to pencil in, although that couldn’t take all day since my skulking about the players’ area for prolonged amounts of time would undoubtedly attract the wrong kind of attention.
“Nathaniel is flying in on Rorik sometime around noon,” Jens said, a half smile resting on his lips. “We thought we’d take the two of them around town after they settled at the house, catch a beer, maybe dinner.”
I felt my eyebrows rise up of their own accord, the ice still present in my veins giving way to someth
ing kinder. “Mind if I come?”
“Mind?” Jens tugged me closer. “Schwestie, you have to.”
By the time the twins cleared out of my apartment, I was almost chipper. A good match, hanging out with my brothers, and a promise to spend some time in Nathaniel’s and Rorik’s company the following day infused me with a sense of normalcy.
A cup of coffee in my hands, I’d phoned Alec to see how he was doing and learn if he spotted anything odd at the compound when he returned to get a bit of bureaucratic work done, but he had nothing of note to report. Not that I was too surprised.
I wasn’t counting on the murderous assholes to make a mistake just because I figured out their probable motive. This wasn’t the movies.
Besides, neither Westmann nor Schwab were scheduled to play, which meant they were more than likely making themselves scarce, if they were even at the Zentrum.
I’d turned down the invitation to spend the night at Alec’s place, actually longing to catch some rest in my own bed. Somehow, I felt as if I hadn’t slept in ages. And Alec, being the fantastic man that he was, understood perfectly. He ended the call with the promise that I could always drop by if I changed my mind or found myself craving an orgasm.
I snorted but didn’t decline the offer outright.
A werewolf had to keep her options open.
Still smiling, I cooked myself a quick dinner, devoured it down to the last bite while watching reruns of the matches on TV, then went to take a long shower. It was nice to finally have my thoughts to myself, a clear stream of consciousness instead of the chaotic mess I’d been ever since Christian’s death.
This…this was good.
I still had no idea why someone wanted to enter the Games so desperately as to resort to murder, but at least I knew who to watch now.
A determined, but not exactly invasive, knock at my door pulled me out of the bathroom. I wrapped a towel around myself and padded across the apartment, picking up the scent along the way. My heart sped up at the sharp, alluring notes, and when I opened the door to find Isa standing there, I could have sworn there was a blush creeping up my cheeks.
Mercifully, my skin was already sporting a nice pink hue thanks to the scalding water.
She followed me without words when I invited her in, but didn’t move farther than a few feet beyond the door.
“I can’t stay long,” she offered at my silent question. “I only wanted to tell you in person that I spoke with Rihard this afternoon.”
I forgot all about the whispers of lust.
Since I wasn’t family, the hospital wouldn’t let me see him until he was moved to another ward. But Isa’s badge was a neat way around that particular problem.
“How is he?” I asked.
“As well as anyone under the circumstances.” Her words were emotionless, but I detected a faint warmth lurking somewhere deep beneath the surface. “He claims he didn’t ingest any kind of drug, and”—her slender fingers cut off the protective roar wanting to explode from my lips—“I believe he’s telling the truth.”
I had no idea how tense I’d been until I heard her say that.
I thrust a hand through my still damp hair as relief ran its course and this new investigative part of me fired up again.
“You questioned him?”
A nod. “We managed to cut down our list of suspects in half, although Rihard himself had said that it was possible someone else slipped him the drug when he left his flasks unsupervised.”
Which was, unfortunately, a distinct possibility.
The Olympiapark Tennis-Zentrum was basically home to all of us who worked—or played—there. We rarely thought it necessary to keep an eye out for our things. Shit, I even tended to leave my office unlocked while I was on compound grounds—something I needed to remedy in the near future.
I nibbled on the inside of my lip. “So we’re nowhere closer to finding out who…”
“No,” Isa cut in, although a hint of a warm smile touched her lips. “But his story does confirm that someone is targeting the players. They must have sold Nill to Linus because he wasn’t averse to doping. Whether they planned for the drug to kill him or not, I can’t say. Although I’m convinced someone would have received an anonymous tip sooner rather than later if you hadn’t beat him up already.
“Linus was an obvious, easy choice. But the rest of them… For what it’s worth, Lotte, they were clean.”
It was a weak consolation at its best, yet I was infinitely glad for it.
I let Isa glean my gratitude from my gaze before I asked, “Sure you don’t want something to drink?”
“Thank you.” She briefly glanced down my towel-clad form, the heat returning to my cheeks, then she shook her head. “I need to head back to the office. Our IT guys managed to hack into the Zentrum’s surveillance systems, and I have days of footage to go through.”
“Well that sounds like a horrible way to spend the night.”
Amusement flickered in her emerald eyes. “I must say I agree.”
I followed her as she took those few steps back towards the door, the light arousal in her scent seducing my senses. I really, really hoped she’d reconsider that drink, although a small voice inside me crooned that would bring a lot more trouble than I was ready for.
Isa placed one hand on the handle, then turned around, a smile stretching on her lips. “You played well today, Lotte.”
I blinked, caught like a deer in headlights. “You watched the match?”
For some reason, I just couldn’t imagine the cool, collected ICRA agent among the roaring crowd. Or in front of the TV for that matter.
Her smile, however, spoke otherwise. “Could hardly keep my eyes off you.”
With that she strode out, effectively crushing my plans of a quiet, uneventful evening as the scent of her lingered by the door, taking my mind to all kinds of inappropriate places.
17
The week progressed, but that was it. Aside from my daily reports, which accumulated to a big fat nothing, but had to be given nonetheless, I hadn’t spoken with Isa. And she, in turn, had very little to share during our brief calls.
Obviously, she decided to pull back after our last encounter. I couldn’t be certain why, but I presumed it had something to do with the fact that she was, after all, my boss. One who had strong-armed me into the investigation.
Put like that, I supposed I should be grateful for the distance, although some foolish fragment of my existence didn’t stop wishing things between us were different.
The memory of our kiss kept springing into my mind all too regularly, right alongside her admission that she enjoyed watching me play, and made up for a whole lot of interesting dreams. It was for the first time in a long while that I actually started to consider the possibility of being with someone who wouldn’t be just a casual partner. Even if Isa and I had been off to a disgustingly bad start.
But two people were needed for that, and I was one short.
The partnership, not the bad start. One arrogant vamp sufficed for the latter just fine.
I let loose a breath and cradled the cool pitcher of beer in my hands, only faintly aware of my buzzing surroundings. Laughter pierced through the tight net of my thoughts, as well as a faraway beat of music. But before I could latch onto any of it, I was sucked right back into the turmoil of my mind.
No, with the hunt for the dealers at a standstill, Isa was simply too busy. She had to be looking at the case from every possible angle to unearth something vital that we’d missed. She didn’t have to indulge whatever it was that had sparked between us.
Or so I wanted to believe.
Mercifully, the lull meant no other player had wound up in a hospital—or worse—which made the lack of progress bearable, if not ideal. The fact that Alec and I were winning helped, too.
My surroundings grew louder again, softly anchoring me to reality. I glanced sideways at Alec, noting that despite it all, there was a hint of happiness lining his handsome features.
<
br /> We’d breezed through the first round, a straight win after only two sets, but had had a bit more of a challenge in the quarter finals. In the end, it was nothing we couldn’t handle, although it definitely made us go for a mandatory beer after a good match.
The most brilliant thing, though, was that we didn’t go alone.
I extracted myself from my thoughts fully as determination to enjoy this pocket of good spread through my veins.
“Here’s to kicking our asses,” Annika said as she lifted her pitcher and cast a quick look at a grinning Erik. “I think I was rooting for you two even when we were still out there.”
“Man, I knew you were going too easy on them,” Erik chuckled. “I kept thinking, why won’t she just hit the fucking ball straight down the middle while you were too busy panting on the sidelines? But no, you had to play it so that even my two-year-old couldn’t have missed the return.”
Alec opened his mouth to protest, but clearly thought better of it. “Actually, that’s a fair description.”
“Oh, shut up.” Annika rolled her eyes, her long lashes making the gesture a hundred times more dramatic. “I wasn’t letting you win. I was just…not particularly upset when you got a point.”
Her devious smile made me choke on my beer which, in turn, set a roll of laughter erupting around the table. Alec draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in a quick hug before letting me find my way to air again.
“Better behave, Lotte,” Erik warned and tipped his head to the side where the bar stretched out into lightbulb-illuminated distance. “I see your competition’s hanging out over there. Wouldn’t want them to think you’re easy pickings.”
I snorted, then glanced past the lines of tables towards the back, noting Fischer and Klein, the pair Alec and I would face in the semifinals, were sitting at the table and cradling…
Dear gods, they were actually drinking coffee. I shook my head.
“You know, it’s kind of unsettling to see weres without something alcoholic in their hands in between matches. Especially in a Biergarten,” I muttered, meeting Erik’s amused gaze. “But I guess my siblings do set quite high expectations.”
