by J. A. Saare
I looked at the manila envelopes and asked softly, "What is it?"
"I can't look inside. Only you can. But if I had to wager a guess, I'd say they are in regard to the threats he received after your altercation at the bank. That's when he hired the investigators."
"He hired investigators?" That was something I knew nothing about. "What kind of threats did he receive?"
The attorney stopped looking at the papers and studied me. "He didn't mention any of this to you? Nothing?" When I shook my head he stated, "He'd received numerous death threats after he was connected to you on the news. People came to his business more than once." When he frowned, I knew he thought I might be lying. "You can be honest with me, Ms. Carthy. About anything and everything. I'm bound by attorney-client privilege. Did you know anything about this?"
"No," I said, suddenly numb. "And I'm not a client."
It felt like the world had come down around me.
I'd known the explosion wasn't an accident.
I'd felt it somehow.
Steven had never been stupid.
The accident was no accident.
"Actually, you are," he corrected me. "Money was put aside for that as well. I wouldn't have mentioned anything about his parents otherwise. It's confidential. He stated you were to be consulted and informed without question. I have a sizeable amount set aside for any future matters you need assistance with. Don't concern yourself with that."
"How much money did his parents get?" It sounded stupid to ask, and strange, but I wanted to know.
"Approximately twelve million dollars, before assets."
Oh dear God. Twelve million dollars.
No wonder he'd had the ability to confront Michael.
Unsteady and struggling for breath, I asked, "You're sure?"
"I'm positive." He must have seen how sick I felt, because he asked, "Are you alright?"
"Yes." I gulped, worried I'd never known Steven at all. "I need a moment."
The man I knew lived frugally. He watched his money.
Then, I thought about it. I really considered the man.
He'd always been meticulous in all things.
He knew stocks and bonds. He invested in extremely smart ways.
His werewolf and vampire clients paid him well.
Then, I remembered what Michael had said.
Steven had caused a lot of problems with his terms and conditions. Otherwise, Michael would have dismissed him without question. Steven had made things very clear. He wouldn't leave me without a fight. He would do whatever he had to in order to remain in my life.
"Who threatened him?" I asked, trying to combat the anger, rage, and confusion inside of me. If Michael was the reason, I'd kill him. "Who came to his shop?"
"I can't answer for certain. He mentioned the Watchers of the Moon."
The information was a small comfort. I didn't have to worry about Michael or werewolves being involved. Another thought formed. Or did I? Dante had been a werewolf. There were others like him. None of them were pack.
I recalled what Ensel had said as he'd threatened Trisha.
I'm like a hydra. Cut off my head, and two will take its place.
"Where do I sign?" I couldn't focus on the attorney. I was going to be sick.
I had a very bad feeling.
"Here." He indicated the area on the papers and pointed.
I signed them quickly, trying to figure out what to do next.
"Would you like the money in a new account? Or would you prefer a deposit or check?"
What? Why is he talking about money?
I came back to reality. "A new account is fine. You can do that?"
"Certainly," he told me with confidence. "I'll have it ready in a few days."
I grabbed the envelopes, worried I might vomit.
"Is that all?" I questioned, trying to keep my mind balanced, needing to leave.
There was something I had to check. Something important.
"Uh, yes," he said, confused by my reaction. I scented his unease. "I will need to contact you about the assets that remain, but otherwise we are done."
We are done.
That's all I needed to hear.
"Thank you," I said and struggled to rise.
When I made it to my feet, I went for the door. Noah was waiting for me. He'd sensed my emotions and was right there, just as I instinctually knew he would be. He caught me as I tripped, keeping me upright. I couldn't feel my legs and struggled to stand. He gained traction, holding me up when I knew I'd fall.
He knew it, too. The connection between us flared.
His wolf surrounded me, trying to reassure me.
"Angel?" He didn't let go, looking down at me. "What's wrong?"
"Take me home," I told him, clinging to his shoulders. "Now," I ordered, before he could ask questions. "I need to get home. Take us home."
"Angela—"
"Michael can watch her." I cut him sort and peered up at him, making sure he could see the anguish on my face. "Please. Take me home. I'm begging you, Noah. Take me home now."
I let the wolf rise, revealing my turmoil and state of mind. She influenced him, just as I thought she would. His features changed, his face shifting as his wolf reacted immediately, ready to protect me. I felt horrible seeing it. He was riding the edge, just like I was. The wolf and the human part of me raged at the injustice. Now, so did his. I pulled back, not wanting that. I tried to think of other things and focused on our time at the quarry. A moment of peace and reconciliation. He couldn't drive as a wolf.
In seconds or minutes, I wasn't certain, he got hold of himself.
He stopped with the questions and picked me up.
I let him, welcoming the security, sagging in his arms.
I didn't look as he strode through Michael's home, no longer fixated on the objects. Whatever happened to Steven transpired because of me. He'd been killed because of me. With each of Noah's step, I contemplated my part in things.
Noah took me to his truck and didn't ask questions.
Still, I felt his alarm. His confusion.
He'd been soaked in my absolute uncertainty and worry.
The bond between us was stronger than ever.
He knew something was very wrong.
Once I was buckled into my seat, and he took off, I cut on the light in the cabin and tore the envelopes open. Noah glanced at me several times as he studied the road, but I didn't pay attention. The connection between us told me he'd make it home safely. I looked at the papers in my hand. The private investigators had identities and aliases listed. I went through them quickly, and my stomach sank when I found what I hoped I wouldn't.
Dante Orr.
He was listed as a known acquaintance of Hugo Rawlings. A man who'd threatened Steven at the shop. There was no police report. It appeared the information had been gathered after the investigator did a search on Hugo's license plate. It was the first step in many, but eventually led to Dante's name on the list of people who were members of the Watchers of the Moon.
"Hurry, please," I told Noah, trying to get a grip. "Go faster."
"What are you reading, Ray?" His unease and discomfort flowed into me. I saw a line of white along his jaw, telling me how hard he was clenching his teeth. When he took control of his beast, he questioned, "What's the matter?"
"It wasn't an accident," I said, horrified at what had happened.
"What wasn't an accident?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Shame, guilt, and revulsion consumed me.
The one pure, true thing, I'd ever known had died because of me. Or had he? Dante's name was there. Listed on paper. He'd known who I was. He'd known about Steven as well.
"Ray." Noah's vocal cords tightened, distorting as he said my name, and I felt his wolf reaching out. "I'm fighting for control here. Talk to me. Tell me something."
My rage found a target.
If he was fighting for control, it was his own fault. He'd done something to me. H
e'd cemented our bond in stone. I knew he had. It was the only explanation for how I felt. This was different. Natural but unknown to me.
Provoking Noah wasn't smart. I knew that.
Still, I got ready to stand my ground, directing my anger at him, and reeled at the feelings that slammed into me. Raw emotion from the two of us pooled together and spilled over. I tried to put a lid on mine, tamping them down as best I could. I felt him try to do the same. Both of us struggled, I could hear our heavy, combined breathing.
His hand shot out and grasped my arm.
As soon as our skin touched, the human aspect of things were forced aside. Our beasts took over, changing things in a way I hadn't expected. They merged and pulled our human emotions back. Then they did what came naturally to them, feeding off one another. Like this, there was no chaos. I was still upset, the why of it simply wasn't as important.
"Better?" Noah's voice was deep and gravelly.
I blinked several times, coming back into my skin. "I think so."
"Tell me what's wrong." He released my arm.
"It's not good," I said, recalling why I felt so shaky.
I sagged against the seat, trying to bring my thoughts together.
"What's not good?"
I didn't want to answer any questions. I needed to think.
I waved an envelope in the air. "All of it."
He wasn't pleased with my response, but I didn't say anything else. If my gut was right, I'd have to make Michael pull strings to exhume Steven's grave in order to conduct a formal autopsy. That was the only way to prove the body didn't match Steven's dental or DNA records.
As soon as Noah pulled up to the house, I jumped from the truck.
The night air felt calming, soothing me, but I didn't have time to take it in. I ran across the distance and sprinted to the porch. As soon as the door opened, I dashed inside and rushed up the stairs. I nearly tripped, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I made it to the bedroom and stormed to the nightstand.
The phone took too long to start. I bit my thumb as I waited.
Noah appeared in the doorway but didn't say anything. Neither did I. I'd be telling him something soon enough. When the device had power, I went to voicemail.
I had one message.
I retrieved it and gnawed at my finger while I waited.
The line clicked, and I heard Steven's voice. "Hey, grit. Something's come up, so I won't be able to order the parts you asked for. We have to go with another brand. It's solid and reliable. It's called minotaur. Look it up." I heard voices in the background, men nearby were shouting, and he said, "Minotaur."
The call ended.
I knew what the message meant.
He'd been in danger and reached out.
I sank to the floor and let everything consume me.
Misery, contempt, and regret.
"Angel." Noah came to me and dropped by my side. "Will you tell me now?"
His voice took on a heavy edge, and I felt him tense up against me, muscles drawn tight. He was struggling with his wolf again. The beast wanted to take charge. That odd yet familiar connection between us rose again. His wolf touched mine and, once again, ebbed my flow of emotions. I latched my arms around his torso and rested my face on his chest. I didn't let go, welcoming his nearness as he drew me close. I buried my face in his neck, desperate to find comfort in his scent and powerful presence. It didn't work completely, the realization I'd come to was too profound, too difficult to accept.
If I was right, and he was alive, I'd be the cause of his misery. I would be the one held responsible.
"Heaven help me. I've destroyed him, Noah. He'll never be the same. He'll hate me forever." Knowing that, I whimpered in fear of what was to come. "He'll never forgive me."
"Who won't forgive you?" he questioned, trying to remain composed, barely keeping his wolf in control in the midst of my despair and grief. He shifted his body, getting comfortable as he situated me on his lap, trying to look me in the eye. I didn't dare meet his gaze, afraid of how he might react when I told him. "What are you talking about?"
He could be dead. I didn't know for sure.
He might not have survived the change.
But he had. Deep down, I knew.
"Steven."
Noah went very still. "What about Steven?"
"Dante isn't the only person kidnapping people and experimenting on werewolves. There are others doing the same thing, and I bet they're working together. They targeted Steven just like they targeted me." The words tumbled from my mouth. That would explain why Angie had never seen Peter, and why we were having a hard time connecting cases. Another wave of torment and outrage hit. I wanted to rip Dante apart a second time. Then, wanting to think things weren't so bleak, I bit back my temper and said, "He's not dead, Noah. Steven's not dead. They took him."
"Easy, angel," he felt my torment, I knew that, but he didn't understand it, not completely. I rocked in his arms, and he tried to soothe me by stroking my back. "Breathe."
"'I'm so sorry," I gasped, trying to inhale. "I'm so sorry, Noah."
"Shh, it's alright," he said, "I've got you."
But it wasn't alright. It never would be.
Our wolves came together yet again, and I gave up. I let them bask in their glory and happiness. If anything, they deserved it. Still, my thoughts tumbled over each other. I'd assumed I wouldn't know if Steven passed, because he was human. But I'd guessed wrong. I hadn't followed my instincts. He wasn't gone, because he'd never died.
He'd been changed.
I thought that was why I could sense him.
The bond we'd created when he was human remained.
Steven was alive.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.A. Saare is a multi-published author in varying genres and has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies and flash fiction contests. Her work has a notable dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music, and choices in reading, and has been described as “full of sensual promise”, “gritty and sexy”, and “a breath of fresh air”.
Currently she is penning numerous projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and of course, paranormal romance categories. Her website is www.jasaare.com. Those interested in her “naughtier” side can visit her alias, Aline Hunter, at www.alinehunter.com.
LOOK FOR THESE TITLES BY J.A. SAARE
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The Renfield Syndrome
The Ripple Effect
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Perfect Dark
COMING SOON:
Blood Bound
Moon Borne
Edge of Darkness