by Gaja J. Kos
A string of curses boiled in my chest. But then I remembered—
“Isa, the two players Alec and I would have gone up against, Fischer and Klein… They seemed to know Henrik Westmann. It could be nothing, and as far as I can tell they got into the tournament fairly, but just in case…”
“And you didn’t tell me this sooner because…?”
I cut her a glare. “I was a little busy with the police.”
Isa raised an eyebrow. It was all too clear she wasn’t about to fall for my lie, but, mercifully, she didn’t push the issue, either.
In all honesty, I had no excuse. I didn’t even know why I hadn’t reported my suspicions. Maybe I wanted to back them up with something solid before sending her after them.
Maybe I was just so fucking certain Alec and I would win that it didn’t matter.
“I’ll vet them again.” She glanced in the rearview mirror, then pulled onto my street at last. “They didn’t raise any red flags on the first check. But, as you said, we were focusing on rank manipulations at that time.”
I wasn’t entirely sure whether I should be relieved or not. At this point, it was almost as if any news was an improvement on the situation.
Isa stopped the car in front of my building, but left the engine running—my cue to get my freshly released butt into my apartment and wait out the remainder of this mess on the sidelines. As much as I was grateful for not having to snoop around the Zentrum, it still felt wrong for my part to end like this. Maybe—
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no,” Isa said without missing a beat. “You’re keeping your head down until I give you the all clear.”
“Fine,” I rumbled, then sighed. “Thanks for bailing me out.”
This time, Isa did smile. Even if it failed to reach her eyes. “Anytime, Lotte.”
Alec, bless his soul, wasn’t waiting for me empty-handed. The apartment smelled like beer and pizza, and in that moment, I couldn’t think of a better way to drown my bitter mood.
I sucked in deep breaths, feeling the presence of comfort food infuse my very cells.
The instant I kicked the apartment door shut behind me, the aromatic threads of olives, rucola, and cheese curled away from me as the welcoming scent of wolf and friend took the spotlight.
“Sorry, Lotte.” He crushed me in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” I mumbled into his neck.
“For, well…everything, I guess.”
I resisted—but only a little—when he pushed back and led me by the hand onto the couch.
The anger in his scent grew, as did the touch of dark in his eyes that transformed the usual blue into something stormy. Our thighs brushed as we made ourselves comfortable, and Alec traced his fingers down my cheek, the gentle touch so at odds with the white-knuckled fist he formed the moment his arm dropped back down.
A low growl spread through the room.
“All of this makes me want to rip some throats out, Lotte.”
I chuckled, caught myself, then laughed out loud. “You and me both, my friend.”
Some of the strain fled from his body.
I kept on laughing uncontrollably until hiccups started jostling my chest and the emotions that had come so close to flooding subsided. I steadied myself with a long exhale to make sure no residual fits lay in wait, then met Alec’s gaze.
“I’m sorry, too. I know how much you wanted to win this bloody thing, and it all went to shit instead.”
“True.” His eyes turned mischievous, brighter. “But just getting to compete with you one last time was more than I could hope for.” He placed his hand on my knee and squeezed. “I mean it. It’s been an honor.”
I fought back the rotten tears that started to prickle in the corners of my eyes. “Oh, shut up and start drinking, will you?”
He didn’t need to be told twice. A beer was in my hand the next second, followed by a slice of warm pizza. Alec had even gone all out and ordered the one with mozzarella for me instead of ordinary cheese they usually threw on, and the taste melted in my mouth, ensnaring my senses until I groaned in pleasure.
Gods, comfort food.
I devoured three more slices before Alec broke the silence. “Want to watch the second semifinal?”
I nodded. As much as it stank that we’d dropped out, I was still curious to see how the tournament would unfold. Not just from the investigative viewpoint, either.
After the crappy day I’d had, I longed to watch the grace and power of a good match, occupying myself with analyzing tactics and techniques.
As was with the majority of things in life, tennis was an endless study. There were always aspects left to improve, small tweaks to pick up and implement in your own game. I’d learned as much from watching as I had under the skilled hands of all my former coaches.
Nestling deeper into the cushions, I waited for Alec to turn on the TV and flip to the right channel.
They were already deep within the second set, but as it seemed, we were about to see a third one, if the poor assholes continued to force the ball out of the court.
No, wait, that was actually a minor mistake compared to poaching the ball and then playing it in the direction you came from. I winced.
But I did admire the excellent return down the empty alley.
Smooth execution with zero rush.
As the match progressed, I found myself sinking into the familiar excitement of watching old nemeses fail. Even Alec seemed smug by my side, and by his third beer, the comments started rolling in.
It should’ve been impossible, and yet there was a smile tugging on my lips at his endearing, although very much unsportsmanlike rooting for more unforced errors. We both cheered at every new fine underspin volley, at every long rally with quick, smart combinations, but most of all, our voices boomed through the apartment when our favorites won another point.
Actually, they won a whole lot of them.
The match was just nearing its end when my phone rang. I groaned at the interruption, but picked it up nonetheless once I saw the caller.
“Isa?”
“You were right about the two players you would have been up against today.” Her cool, perhaps slightly frustrated voice slithered down the line. “While they have no connection to Schwab, Klein and Fischer started out in the same club as Westmann. It was a long time ago, and the period was brief since they moved up the ranks quickly enough to get a better deal, but the link is nonetheless there.”
I frowned. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” She paused for a too-long second. “The club got shut down a couple of years later because they were pumping their athletes with performance-enhancing drugs.”
“And Westmann?”
“He got out before that. As did the coach who put Linus in contact with the dealers. It’s why we didn’t make the connection sooner.” Her voice was dry, the irritation grazing against my ears. “We focused on pro clubs, not amateurs, so the painfully obvious detail slipped under our radar.”
From the sound of it, she hadn’t been the one doing the initial background checks. I almost felt sorry for the agent who would get his ass flayed for the mistake, but even I had to admit that for an investigation of such importance, that was just sloppy work. Potentially costing more lives, too.
“So it isn’t that much of a leap to think Westmann, Klein, and Fischer are in this together?” I asked, then motioned to Alec that I’d explain later when he raised his brows in question.
“More than likely. Besides, your disqualification from the tournament fits the MO, if not the precise means.”
“Well, thank the gods for small mercies.” I sighed. “They could have tried offing us with Nill.”
“But the result is the same.” There was a deep resignation in her voice that I didn’t like one bit.
“Meaning?”
“Fischer and Klein will win the tournament, won’t they?”
“If they win the
finals,” I pointed out, frowning as something nagged at the back of my brain. Something I was still missing. “You can’t be sure about that… Unless you believe they’ll play dirty with the opposition?”
“We have them under twenty-four-hour surveillance. But that’s beside the point. You were the threat, Lotte. You and Alec. The others are good players, and I don’t doubt the final will be tight, but against the two of you—you would have annihilated them out there.”
Momentarily stunned by her praise, I needed a couple of seconds to get my mind back into working order. “Still, Isa, even with us out of the way, it isn’t a guarantee.”
She sighed. “I know. We’ll just have to keep close watch so that no further incidents happen.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
The instant the call disconnected, I tossed the phone onto the table and reached for my beer. Alec waited patiently for me as I drank deeply, although I could feel his anticipation wafting through the air.
But before I could even start to explain what a fucking mess all of this was, my phone beeped again. I cast Alec an apologetic glance, then swiped open the message.
The twins.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips at their long, long spill of very inventive curses.
“What is it?” Alec peered over my shoulder.
“Jens and Jürgen. They’re pretty pissed that we’re out of the Games.”
He cocked his head to the side, and I couldn’t help but shiver as the warmth of his breath fell upon my neck. “Did you tell them what happened?”
“No.” I scrolled forward. “But they do know about the doping incident and my arrest. Nathaniel passed on the news coursing through the hush-hush channels of the officials. And from the sound of it, he’s just as pissed as the twins that he won’t be able to present the award to—”
“Lotte?”
I clutched my phone tight enough to create two small hairline cracks across the screen. “Motherfucker.”
“What?”
“MOTHERFUCKER!” I exploded from the couch. “That’s what they want!”
My stomach twisted, bile scraping at the back of my throat.
“That’s what they’re after, Alec. Not money or fame or any of that shit, but a face-to-face with the elusive, well-protected head of the HSC.” I turned to meet his gaze, seeing realization dawn on his face just as I hissed, “The bastards are after Nathaniel.”
19
Isa’s on her way here,” I said after I dropped the phone on the couch next to me and buried my face in my hands.
I was shivering, but couldn’t tell whether it was fear or fury.
“Maybe it isn’t Nathaniel they’re after.” Alec scooted closer and started to gently massage the tension from my back. “It could be we’re still missing something.”
I looked up at him, bleary-eyed, then shook my head. “I can feel it in my bones, Alec. Why choose the Munich Games if they were after anything else? You can get the money, better money at basically any grand slam and even a few other tournaments overseas. So what’s so special about this one?”
He let out a shuddering breath. “The prize is awarded by the HSC.”
“Exactly.”
I sat up straighter even though all I really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pretend this was nothing but a nightmare. Alec’s warmth fell away from my shoulders, severing that final thread of comfort.
While I mourned its loss, I also needed it.
Nathaniel’s life was on the line here. And it was time I finally lived up to my Freundenberger name.
“It all makes sense now.” I took a sip of the coffee Alec had prepared while I’d been on the phone with Isa, then set the cup back down. “Shit, the bastards really played their cards right. I mean, with the security at the finals focused on the spectators, on any possible attack coming from outside—”
“Nathaniel will be left unprotected from internal threats. And since it’s an official function, Rorik won’t be by his side. Fuck.” Alec thrust a hand through his hair, knotting the strands worse than they already were. “How come we didn’t see it before?”
I exploded off the couch in a not particularly graceful move and paced around the room.
“Why would we?” A bitter laugh left my lips. “Gods, they were clever, weren’t they? Using athletes and a fucking performance-enhancing drug to throw us off. They made it all about the sport, the tournament—”
I stopped as I smelled Isa by the door, then rushed over to open it.
The vampire stormed in, green eyes blazing, and the lightweight black coat she had on whipping behind her viciously. The air grew thick with her frustration, but even so I could tell she was holding back. I motioned her to sit down in the spare armchair—something Isa did with a fair amount of reluctance.
“Why?” Her icy tone cut through the room, but I was already too numb, too walled-up inside to flinch.
“The Species Registration bill.”
Understanding grew in Isa and Alec’s eyes, the atmosphere shifting once more. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and faced them.
“My brothers mentioned there were some who opposed the edict.” The words rolled heavily off my tongue, laced with guilt that I’d pushed politics aside without a second thought. “They thought their numbers were small enough not to pose any real threat. But if you think about it, truly think about it—isn’t it a bit unusual that there hasn’t been more discussion and uproar about something as large as a database of species, cataloging every single one of us?
“I mean, we are talking about supes who have spent centuries in hiding. Some even preferring it that way. Kind of hard to believe they wouldn’t even question having such personal data stored in a single place.”
“You think the opposition was working under the radar the whole time?” Alec asked.
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” I threw my hands up. “Maybe the buildup to the War was an excellent history lesson. All those vamps protesting and attacking people had drawn too much attention and made it a shitload easier to track them down. They must have known an uproar wouldn’t work in their favor.”
“But if they kept quiet with only a moderate—expected—reaction thrown out there for cover,” Isa pitched in, “none would be the wiser about the cogs turning in the background.” She crossed her legs, gaze burrowing into mine. “Still, why single out Nathaniel Vidmar? He might be the head of the HSC, but he’s hardly the only one calling the shots…”
I rubbed my hands down my arms to brush off the sudden chill. “Normally, you’d be right. But the bill is his work. Without Nathaniel, the chances of it going through are next to zero.”
“Next to zero is still a gamble,” Isa said quietly. “What if they kill Vidmar and the bill succeeds?”
Needing to do something, I paced around the room again until emotion didn’t threaten to choke my voice any longer.
“It won’t. Nathaniel was the one who managed to get the support of the representatives. And he’s the one still fighting to gain those final votes before they can lock it in.”
A haunted expression crossed Alec’s face as he let out a breath. “The Species Registration bill is another step towards fortifying the new regime, right?”
I nodded.
“So you’re thinking the athletes are in the traditional camp?”
“They do come from traditional families.” Isa looked up from the slim tablet I’d failed to notice her procure. “They never stepped beyond the limits of the law, as far as I can tell, but their lines are purely werewolf, and, oh, yes,”—a grim smile tugged on her lips—“Schwarzmann’s brother was arrested shortly after the War for assaulting another of his kin. The injured wolf was a liaison for the HSC. He succumbed to his injuries, so there’s no note on what had fueled the attack, and William Schwarzmann didn’t divulge anything before he was found guilty and executed for his crime.”
“Shit.” I chewed on my bottom lip, tasting blood. “I have to warn Nathaniel a
bout this.”
“No.”
“No?” I arched an eyebrow. “We’re dealing with fucking traditionals who have no qualms about resorting to murder to get what they want—”
“No, Lotte.” Isa stood up and fixed me with a hard stare. “Regardless of the current developments and political agenda, the main objective remains to trace the source of Nill. If the people behind the drug are connected to extremists who believe in supernatural supremacy over humans, it’s more important than ever that we bring them down before they can take this any further.”
I prowled over to her, our respective angers charging the air between us. “You’ve got to be kidding me… Nathaniel needs to know—needs to tighten the security or not make an appearance at the finals at all. You can’t…you can’t risk the head of HSC!”
Her face was the same cool, impassive display that my fists itched to punch. “If anything veers from protocol, they will know something’s wrong. We can’t risk it.”
“Protocol changes all the time,” Alex snarled, gripping the couch with knuckles of pure white. “Make up some godsdamned unrelated threat and nobody will bat an eye at the additional security. Fuck, we’ve had a shitload of them long before the War. As much as I hate to say it, Munich is kind of used to the violent bullshit.”
A hint of fang appeared beneath Isa’s upper lip as she turned to him. “Right now, we don’t have anything. Not a single concrete piece of evidence that would allow me to arrest the involved parties. Fischer and Klein even got into the tournament on their own. The fact that they know Schwarzmann isn’t enough.”
“Please.” I snorted. “If you’re the kind of person who works by the book—”
“I am.” She whirled around, her face now only inches from mine. “Rogue hunters have no place in the new society. You should know that better than anyone since your family is practically entwined with the rulekeepers.”
“You’re right. My family. And that’s precisely who Nathaniel is to me. Fucking family!” I was shouting and I couldn’t give less of a shit. Isa was out of line, so way out of line that I was barely holding back the impulse to bash her pretty face in. “You’re not going to dangle him in front of the killers like some fucking bait!”
