by Kathy Lyon
“Nothing. We haven’t found her yet.”
Ryan controlled his reaction. He knew she’d skipped from the crime scene, but he’d held out a silly hope that she’d come back. She’d declared to one and all that she was his “friend” inside the storage room. But then when he needed her to corroborate his statement, she was in the wind. She’d abandoned him, and damn his heart for hurting from that. She’d never made any promises to him. Her loyalty was to her pack and he was a bear.
And yet her disappearance cut him deeply. She’d declared them friends and then bailed.
She was probably confronting her brother. Or at least trying to stop her father from going to war with the Griz. But both of those paths were suicide without backup. He could have helped her, but she hadn’t stuck around long enough to see that.
Meanwhile, Captain Abraham held up his phone and read off the screen. “The Wolves aren’t a gang in the traditional sense. They’re a powerful family trying to build a community. Francesca is the force behind those efforts. Emory is the glad-handing mayor, and Raoul the quiet nerd. She is the power behind the throne and our efforts should focus on her.” Captain Abraham looked up from his phone. “Remember when you wrote that?”
Ryan nodded. It was part of his report on the shifter “gangs” in Detroit, though no one in the department knew they were shifters.
“Were you seeing her then?”
“No.”
“But you tracked her, watched her, knew what she was up to.”
“That was my job.”
“And you do throw yourself a hundred percent into your job,” he drawled.
Ryan didn’t like his captain’s tone, nor did he appreciate the sleazy inference the man was making. He hadn’t written that report because of some relationship with Frankie. He’d done it because it was the truth. And because he was the only one on the force who could track the shifters in Detroit and who knew exactly what each species was up to. It had nothing to do with a relationship then or now.
“I’m just trying to find the asshole responsible for the Detroit Flu.”
Abraham nodded, his expression compassionate. But when he spoke, his words were anything but kind. Still, his tone was gentle, and that made it a hundred times worse.
“Interesting that you say ‘asshole’ in the singular. Like one person could have pulled off poisoning an entire city.”
It was possible given werewolf pack structure. He just hadn’t figured out if it was Emory or Raoul who was the ultimate culprit.
“Want to know what I think happened?” Abraham asked. Ryan didn’t, but he was about to hear anyway. “I think you were getting close to figuring things out. I think you took sick time in order to do some private investigating, and that led you to Frankie Wolf.”
“She came to me,” he said. In fact, she’d saved his life.
“I’ll just bet she did. She probably spun this whole damsel-in-distress tale and how she needs your help to expose Raoul.”
Ryan lifted his chin. “Frankie’s the opposite of a damsel in distress.” If anything, she was too damned independent for her own good.
His captain kept going as if he hadn’t spoken. “She’s pretty, she’s been doing good things in the neighborhood, so you believed her.”
“I do believe her.”
“But you’re not stupid. You’re not just going to take her word for it. You need evidence. So she takes you to that storage facility where your name is written on everything. Then she disappears, leaving you neatly tied up here and out of her hair.”
Was it possible? He was a good judge of character, but his captain spun a convincing picture. Especially since he knew wolves were devious, political creatures. But Frankie wasn’t like that. “She wanted to hide the paper with my name on it. She knows it was a lie.”
He snorted. “She also knows you’d never hide evidence even if it lined you up for the electric chair.”
Ryan didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the water bottle and started chugging. He felt weak and antsy at the same time, and he didn’t like where this discussion was going.
“She drug you before or after you slept together?”
He choked, sputtering as he gaped at his superior.
“You didn’t accidentally drink any of the water. It got poured into you or shot straight into your veins. Do you know who did it?”
Of course, he did. But Frankie had been saving his life.
“You’re smarter than the average junkie. You don’t addict that fast. She couldn’t control you with the drug, so she went for sex, for damsel in distress, for any one of the many ways Mata Haris trick us dumb men.”
“She’s not some devious female spy.”
“No, but she is a princess in an organized crime family.”
He bolted upright at that. “They’re not organized crime. Their businesses and their money are legit.” He planted his hands on the table as he leaned forward. “We both saw the report on their financials. They’re clean.”
“Not if they poisoned Detroit. Not if they’ve declared some sort of territory war against the Griz and mean to go killing people in the streets.”
Ryan swallowed. That was true, and that was exactly why he’d gotten involved to help Frankie. And yet here he was, tied up with the police and absolutely unable to do anything but sit and feel useless. And doubt every decision he’d made in the last twenty-four hours.
Captain Abraham leaned back in his chair. “What’s the one rule of all gangs?”
Ryan didn’t answer. He didn’t want to follow this line of thought.
“Come on. First thing I taught you when you came onto my task force.”
“Don’t involve the cops.”
Abraham smiled. “That’s right. Do everything you can—lie, cheat, steal…” He leaned forward. “Poison or seduce. Anything you can to keep the cops out of it. The gangs take care of the gangs, and they’ll do anything to keep the cops away.”
Ryan gripped his half-empty bottle and tried to get hold of his emotions. It was hard. The addiction was riding him, making him sweat and ache all at once. And the captain’s logic was eating at his confidence, throwing everything that had happened into a bad light. Had he been played? He sure as hell had been abandoned, and that carried so many emotional echoes that it was hard to think beyond it.
“She came to me. She involved me. Why would she do that if she wanted me out of the way?”
“Did she? Or did you stumble onto her and she had to cover?”
He arched a brow and Ryan felt his face heat. Damn it, she’d come on him being shot and had saved his life. But he couldn’t say that because then he’d have to explain how he took two slugs to the chest and there was no sign of it now. And still the man kept hitting him with logic.
“Maybe she’s the best of a bad lot. Maybe she’s trying to do good here, but everything she’s done has been to get you out of their business. And look, she succeeded. You’re burned out from the drug, you’re trapped here getting interrogated, and when she could be right beside you adding her voice to yours, she’s gone. And that Brady guy, too.”
Was it true? God, he couldn’t think straight right now. Not when he was fighting the sweats and had had nothing to eat all day except bad coffee.
Even so, he pulled it together. He lifted his chin and gave the facts to his boss as clearly as he could manage.
“I’ll tell you who was organized crime. Nanook of the Griz. And I took him down, didn’t I?” Not exactly the truth, but Simon had ordered him to take the credit for it. “The bastard’s dead, and we got all the pieces to take out three other drug and gun operations.”
Abraham nodded. “You did damn good work—”
“And now there’s another crime going on, and the Griz are the target. I know for a fact that they didn’t poison Detroit, but someone sure as hell wants it to look like they did.” He pushed out of his chair. “You say they want me out of the fight? Don’t give them what they want. Let me finish what I started. Let
me find the proof. If it’s Frankie or Raoul or the whole damn pack, then I’ll arrest them all. I swear it.”
They stared at one another for a long minute. Ryan let the force of his drive burn through his entire body as he stood there vibrating with the need to see this through. Captain Abraham leaned back in his chair and studied him. His expression was thoughtful without giving anything away.
“You’re going to do that all by yourself? Detective Lone Wolf taking down the baddies.”
Ryan winced at the phrase. “You know as well as I do that sometimes it comes down to one man.” Or wolf. Or bear.
“Sometimes,” his boss agreed. “But you’ve shot your wad this time, Kennedy.” He grimaced as he stood up. “She outplayed you. It happens. You’re out of this fight, but the rest of us aren’t. Let us finish what you started. We’ll make sure that justice is served.” He cocked his head to one side. “That is our job, too, you know.”
“Captain—” he began, but Abraham shook his head.
“Go home. Get some sleep. That’s an order.”
Ryan waited, knowing there was more. Eventually, Abraham sighed.
“You’re on desk duty pending an investigation. This is big stuff, Kennedy. An entire city was poisoned, lots of people died. Everything has to be by the book, and that means you stay out of it.”
“And what if I’m the only one who can keep this from escalating into an all-out war?”
“Then I’d say you were thinking like them. You think it’s just you when you’re actually part of a larger team, and I’m not talking about the police. I mean the justice system. I mean the National Guard who are helping us out. I mean the whole damn city of Detroit that has stopped rioting and is finally starting to pull together. So pull together, already. Work with us, not against us.”
“So let me work—”
“You’ve given your best shot. Now it’s time for you to rest and recover. That’s teamwork.” He wrapped a thick arm around Ryan’s neck and squeezed. “Have a little faith in your team.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Captain Abraham was right. He either worked within the system or outside it. And he was no lone wolf, rogue agent, or vigilante to take the law into his own hands. So what if the system didn’t need him right now? That meant he could take a breather and sort through his feelings for Frankie. Then after all the dust settled—and he could think again without hungering for more serum—he could decide what to do next.
That would be a good plan if it weren’t for one simple fact. He was the only shifter cop in Detroit. The only representative of the legal system who could stop a shifter war. And if he found out that Frankie was Mata Hari in the process, then that would make his feelings real damn clear.
But he couldn’t say any of that to his captain.
“Okay,” he said, doing his best to look compliant. “I need some food anyway.”
“How about you start with a shower?” the captain said as he opened the interrogation room door. He waved over a waiting officer. “Simpson, give Kennedy a ride home, will you? And pick up a pizza on the way. My treat. And stay a while, just to be sure he eats it.”
The young officer stepped forward quickly and accepted a twenty-dollar bill from the captain. His expression was an innocent grin, but all three of them knew the truth. Officer Simpson was Ryan’s babysitter. He’d drive Ryan home, feed him pizza, and keep Ryan locked inside until told otherwise.
Five minutes passed as they called in the pizza order then got in a squad car. Ryan responded politely to everything the young man said, agreeing to the escort and the pizza with as much good grace as he could fake. Once inside his home, he showered, then ate while Simpson kept up a running commentary on the Tigers’ chances this season. Turns out the kid was a huge baseball fan and as pleasant a babysitter as could possibly be managed.
He really didn’t like drugging the guy’s soda with the ketamine he kept on hand just in case a twitchy gang member visited him at home. And he sure as hell was going to pay for that later. But he was the only one who had a prayer of stopping a grizzly-wolf war.
So he knocked out the very young Officer Simpson and left to get some answers.
Chapter 17
The late afternoon sunshine was pleasant on Ryan’s back as he walked away from his apartment building. He’d gone to the right out of habit, but a block away, he had to make a decision. Where exactly was he headed?
His first instinct was to find Frankie, but she was either hiding out or at the wolf community center trying to talk to her father. Everything she’d done so far was to get her brother out of the way, so he doubted she’d go head to head against Raoul. She would have done it already if that were an option.
If she was hiding out, he’d never find her. If she was at werewolf central, then he’d be a fool to walk in blind. He needed more intel and backup before he tried that. So he hauled out his phone and dialed up the Griz. Alyssa answered on the second ring.
“Ryan, are you all right? I’ve been following the police chatter. I’m going to kick that bitch’s ass for abandoning you.”
It was gratifying to hear someone else get angry on his behalf, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from defending Frankie. “She thinks she can stop the wolves on her own.”
“And how’s that working out?” Alyssa grumbled. “We’re suiting up to meet with Emory Wolf right now. Supposed to be a ‘talk sense before there’s a war’ thing, but I think something else is going on. It would be good to have some police backup.”
“Text me the address, I’ll go there now. But I’m solo out here. Officially, I’m at home recovering from the Flu before desk duty in the morning.”
“Got it. Damn bitch.”
“She couldn’t have saved me from desk duty. All she would have accomplished was getting herself locked up, too. If she’s putting pressure on the canine side, then that’s a good thing.” At least that was one perspective. The other was that she’d been playing him from the beginning.
But damn it, no matter what his head said, his gut told him something completely different. His instincts said she was on the level but in way over her head. Anybody who was willing to poison an entire city wasn’t going to hold back when it came to hurting his own sister. Or daughter. Ryan just had to do his job and hope that she was able to do hers. Though the restraint twisted up his guts.
Ryan caught a taxi and was pleased to see signs of the city coming back to life. Cars were on the road, storefronts were open for business, and no one looked like they were about to riot. Lots of people were still out with the Flu thanks to the tainted water, but no more poison was being dumped into the supply. It would take a few days, but the crisis would pass and the city would go on stronger than ever. He took a great deal of comfort from that. The bears and wolves might be about to annihilate each other, but the city would survive.
The meeting was being held in an old ceramic tile factory on the edge of wolf territory. He’d arrived nearly an hour before the appointed time, but nobody liked showing up to these things without first scoping the place out. Until the others got here, that would be Ryan’s job.
He started with a slow lope around the whole area, checking out the block of deserted businesses near the closed factory. He was back in his own clothes now, which meant easy-tear sweatpants and tee. It was still too early for him to go grizzly again, but thanks to the serum Frankie had injected him with, he felt closer to the magic than usual. Like he could shift now if he really had to, but it would be at a heavy cost to his body. His badge still hung around his neck, but underneath his shirt so it wasn’t so obvious.
Nothing unusual as far as he could see. At least until he got to the loading dock at the back of the factory. He could smell the wolves long before he got there. They were supposed to meet on the opposite side of the factory, but clearly, the wolves were up to something. He texted Alyssa with a quick update, then crept forward as inconspicuously as he could given that it was an open stretch of concrete, potholes, and the o
ccasional dandelion. Fortunately, the wolves weren’t paying any attention to him.
“This is an insult! Where the hell are they?” It was Emory Wolf’s voice, though more jittery than usual for the normally unflappable alpha.
“Bears aren’t smart enough to tell time,” one of his men joked, and a few others chuckled in response. It took a moment of digging through hazy memories, but eventually Ryan remembered the asshole’s name. It was Wade, the guy who’d drawn a gun on Hazel.
Meanwhile, Emory was clearly pissed off. “Do they want to start a war?” he asked no one in particular. “They’re taunting us.”
Well that was weird. Wolf clearly thought the meeting was now and at a different location than agreed upon. Which meant someone was screwing with Emory because Alyssa never got this kind of detail wrong.
Ryan eased forward, steeling himself to explain the situation. But he didn’t like stepping in blind, especially since he knew Emory never went anywhere without a full contingent of eight bodyguards. He counted only four, which meant there were four more lurking around somewhere.
“Maybe you should text Raoul and tell him that the bears didn’t show. That they want war,” Wade suggested.
Emory turned on the man with an irritated swirl of his elegant suit jacket. “I’ll tell Raoul what he needs to know when he needs to know it. I’m going to call that prick Simon. At least he’s more rational than Nanook ever was.” He pulled out his phone, but apparently had to concentrate. He was a big man and his phone was small or he was too hopped up on serum to focus well on the tiny screen. His head was bowed in concentration when the attack started.
Two of the men eased behind Emory and raised their hands. Sunlight flashed on brass knuckles outfitted with large metal claws. Damn it, whatever wounds they inflicted would look like they came from bear claws.
“Duck!” Ryan yelled as loud as he could. Then he ran full tilt for the wolf alpha.
Fortunately, Emory had a wolf’s reaction time. He’d leapt two feet away by the time Ryan’s shout finished echoing in the space. Not so fortunate was that he jumped straight into the sneering Wade who had his own set of brass knuckles.