Shadow Moon
Page 18
So I’d lost no time dragging Rihard out on the court. And I certainly didn’t baby him, as much as my protective streak wanted to.
The result, however, was more than worth it.
His skin had completely lost the ashen look, now once more a deep warm brown, and there were hints of that glimmer in his eyes that I’d feared had been lost forever. I hid away a smile. The kid was definitely a fighter. And I couldn’t be prouder to be his coach.
I plopped myself down on the clay-smeared empty chair next to the bench and pulled my own bottle of water from the shade beneath it. For a second, I pressed the cool plastic to my forehead, then unscrewed the top and took several long sips.
“Lotte, can I ask you something?”
I peered sideways, still gulping down the chilled liquid, and nodded curtly.
“I know you were trying to shield me from this stuff, but…” Rihard grimaced, then exhaled, his entire frame dropping. “Is it true? That they”—he swallowed—“that Schultz and the rest tried to kill me just to get access to the head of the HSC?”
While ICRA had managed to keep the details out of the news, I knew the hushed chatter would reach Rihard eventually. I’d hoped to give it and him a bit more time, but… I scanned him with a critical eye. Yeah, the kid was ready to hear what was his right.
I screwed the cap back on the bottle and nodded. “The Species Registration bill. Schultz wanted to stop it by having one of the planted competitors who believed in the old ways murder Nathaniel Vidmar.”
Rihard rubbed the back of his neck, then whispered, “Fuck.”
“Right you are.”
Fuck seemed to be my go-to word whenever I thought about it, as well.
“They used Nill because sportsmen dropping dead by means of doping wouldn’t raise all that many red flags. If ICRA hadn’t already been tracking the drug from the first time it fell on their radar, I’m pretty certain nobody would have caught on to their scheme in time.”
The thought alone sent shivers skittering down my back. Luckily, I’d already spent enough days agonizing over what-ifs to fall into that pothole now.
“It’s kind of twisted, really,” I admitted, fumbling with the bottle. “Schultz paid handsomely to cut off Nill’s distribution so that the drug’s existence wouldn’t become too wildly known. That it would remain untraceable. I guess his plan of keeping Nill off the streets had consequently saved about as many lives as it took. Perhaps more.
“But I still wish, with all my fucking heart, that I’d gotten the chance to rip his throat out.” I looked at Rihard, letting him see that I meant every word. “For you. For Christian. Rosalie.” My voice trembled. “A lifetime of imprisonment isn’t an adequate punishment for his crimes.”
“If you ever get the chance, let me join you.”
I met Rihard’s gaze, holding it for a long, long moment, then inclined my head.
Unlike some of us, the Olympiapark Tennis-Zentrum as a whole seemed to have recovered quite fast. It was barely a month after the Games, and the people went about their work as if nothing had happened. Well, almost nothing.
A hint of blood, fear, and outrage lingered in the air, breaking up the pleasant buzz of office hours.
I stopped by Elsa’s door, a fresh glass of deluxe blood in my hands. The vampire glanced up at me, a smile teasing her red-painted lips.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the werewolf of the year.” Her eyes gleamed with amusement as I placed my offering on her desk. “I don’t think I ever had a boss who spoiled me as much as you do.”
I shrugged. “Figured the whole serial-killer-traditionalist boss angle didn’t work out that well for the last bastard. Thought I’d try a somewhat warmer approach.”
Elsa snorted and snatched the glass, bringing it to her lips. “And you picked out the good stuff. Baileys blood.”
“Told you.” I grinned. “A warmer approach.”
“Keep that up and you just might stay on as head of the Zentrum until your pretty hair is littered with gray.” She placed the blood back down, her features gaining a serious edge. “How’s Rihard doing?”
Of course, being his counselor, she knew all about his mental state. But that wasn’t what she was asking.
“Give him some time and the club will have a new grand-slam winner on our hands.” I nodded at her drink. “Enjoy it while you can. It seems we have some new players thinking of joining our ranks, and you know how impolite it is to imbibe yourself on Baileys while sifting through minds.”
“When?”
“I’ll have Alec organize the schedule and confirm with you. Possibly tomorrow.”
Elsa shook her head, but the grin she gave was absolutely brilliant. “You sneaky bitch.”
I chuckled. “That I most certainly am.”
After I shoved a fresh load of paperwork into Alec’s hands and hashed out the details about when we could both go check out the athletes’ sparring matches to see if we were a good fit, I pulled a beer from my desk drawer and popped it open. I let him have the first sip, then drank a mouthful myself before I leaned back in my upgraded swivel chair and allowed the warmth of the dying sunlight to fall on my skin.
“So still nothing?” Alec asked as he swiped the can.
“No.” I glanced at my phone—at the news I had hoped would arrive but somehow knew would never find its way to me. Or anyone, for that matter. “They managed to shut down the lab that produced the drug Schultz bought, but aside from the few low-rank scientists and a couple of pushers now rotting in jail, they still aren’t any closer to unearthing the big guns.”
Greta’s boss was working with Isa on the investigation, so thanks to the blatant disregard for rules that seemed to run in the family, I got the inside scoop. Although it struck me more as an inside load of nothing.
The single thing that gave me peace of mind was knowing that I had not only kept Nathaniel from peril, but that I wasn’t the reason for the standstill ICRA had suddenly found itself in. Even if I hadn’t intervened, the end result would have been precisely the same.
The true masterminds behind Nill were far too clever to leave any trails behind, especially since their product had been connected to something as massive as the attempted assassination of the head of the HSC. From what Greta could make out, the leader—or leaders, since they couldn’t even say that much with conviction—had packed their suitcases well before the Games had even started, leaving only the lab operational in case Schultz needed more product.
Where they were now was anyone’s guess. A smart person would pack up the money and live comfortably off of it for the rest of their lives.
Unfortunately, my instincts were telling me that wasn’t the case here.
“What about Isa?” Alec asked in a voice low enough to be a whisper. “Has she come around yet?”
I shook my head and gulped down so much beer I nearly depleted the can. Good thing I had extra in storage.
“I hardly think she’s the kind of person who takes disobedience lightly. For all my bravado, I’m actually surprised she didn’t throw my ass in jail. She had every right to, you know. I guess…” I looked up. “I guess it proves that some part of her did care for me.”
Alec reached over and grabbed my hand. “Still, I’m sorry, Lotte. She seemed like she could have been special.”
“Yeah, well, you know how it is.” I smiled at him, at the warmth of his skin, the lovely storm-blue hue of his eyes and the gentle affection weaving between us. “A werewolf doesn’t betray her pack. As unconventional as it might be.”
Thank you for reading Shadow Moon!
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Lotte’s story continues in Darkening Moon, but if you want to learn more about her brothers’ pack and the War that transformed the world, I suggest picking up the Black Werewolves series as well.
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Love,
Gaja J. Kos
Acknowle
dgments
For this one, I have to start at my own beginning. Tennis has been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember, and every single person who has helped me along the way plays a part in the inception of this book.
I want to thank my grandma for being there for me when I first started to fall in love with tennis. You were the one who spent countless hours passing the ball with me in your living room when I was barely old enough to stand on my own and hold that old racket. The one who listened to me babble on and on about my favorite tennis players. The one who always believed in me—and still do.
A massive thanks to my uncle, Mičo. It’s no surprise this book is dedicated to you. You were the first coach I ever had, the one responsible for teaching me the basics, then taking them up a level. And another. And another. And another…
Your extraordinary calmness on the court is admirable, and I believe it was also the reason why I enjoyed practice so much. Well, that, and the infuriating fact that it’s next to impossible to hit a winner when playing against you. Honestly, it’s like competing with a wickedly brilliant wall. But one that definitely does not return the kind of shot one would expect. You’ve taught me so many things that I would probably need an entire book just to list them. But most of all, thank you for showing me there was nothing wrong with playing my forehands and backhands two-handed—as long as my movement was twice as fast.
You rock, and I couldn’t be prouder to call you my family. And my idol.
Thanks to my kick-ass cousin Tjaša who took the reins when I started competing. For teaching me not to be afraid to lean into a swing even when I wasn’t confident.
To my parents, who drove me to practice despite our crazy schedules. My dad, who inadvertently taught me not to be a hothead on court with his own bouts of anger when I kicked his ass. My mom for always making me laugh after sprinting all over the court and miraculously still getting the ball in.
To Boris, who gave me back my love for the game when I thought I’d lost it during college, my partner on and off the court. I love you.
A huge thank you goes to Lindsey R. Loucks, my incredible editor. I always look forward to seeing your email in my inbox. Thanks for making my words shine—and the occasional comment that never fails to make me grin like a complete asshole.
And last but not least, thanks to all of you. My readers. I can’t even begin to stress how much your support means to me. I can only hope to repay it with my stories.
Love you all!
About the Author
Gaja J. Kos is a USA Today bestselling author with a mission to breathe fragments of Slavic lore onto many, many pages of fiction.
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She resides in Celje, Slovenia, with her husband and two Chinese Crested dogs.
For more information visit:
gajajkos.com
Also by Gaja J. Kos
FANTASY WORKS CO-WRITTEN WITH USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR BORIS KOS
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