Shifter Wars Complete Series

by Sarah J. Stone

  After a time, she put her feet on the ground and got up, stretching her slender figure and making her way to the bedroom door. Through it, she could hear the low murmur of voices, the sound reminding her of listening in to the conversation between Mr. Delany and Mr. Jane last night. A feeling of fear gripped her, ice water pooling in her stomach. But, after a moment passed, she came to her senses and opened the door.

  Walking through the hallway, the smooth floor cool on her feet, she made her way to the living room. There, sitting at the bar, a plate of eggs and steak in front of him, was Kyle. He was wearing another sharp outfit of well-fitted, dark jeans, a black, button-up shirt, and a pair of white sneakers on his feet. His eyes were on the TV, which seemed to be playing the news. As Jo entered the room, his eyes flicked to hers, his expression serious as his gaze turned back to the TV.

  ". . . body of Roger Delany was found last night, dead of apparent suicide after jumping from a height dozens of stories above the Financial District building where he worked. EMTs on the scene stated that he was likely killed upon impact . . . ."

  The screen was filled with the image of flashing red and white lights from the fire trucks and ambulances that had arrived at the scene of Mr. Delany's murder. Jo's stomach went cold once again as she heard the word ‘suicide’.

  "But . . . that wasn't a suicide!" she said, pointing to the TV and looking at Kyle. "That was a murder! Can't they tell? Can't they review the security footage?"

  "You're already underestimating the wolves," said Kyle, taking his coffee mug from the counter. "They're not just ‘thinking' clever; they've got tons of computer geniuses in their little clubs; probably scrubbed the footage within an hour of the murder."

  "Then what can I do?" asked Jo. "Can't I tell the police what I saw?"

  Kyle shook his head. "You could try. But, they've probably put a few tens of thousands of dollars in plenty of cops' pockets by now. It'd be your word against theirs, not to mention the edited footage."

  "So . . . they're just going to get away with it?" she demanded.

  "See what I mean about not letting any one group have too much power?" asked Kyle. "They start pulling stunts like this."

  Jo collapsed onto the couch nearby. "Then . . . what can I do?"

  Kyle stood up, made his way over to the kitchen counter and busied himself there for a few moments. Soon after, he walked over to Jo, a plate of eggs in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

  "First, you eat; get your strength back up."

  Jo took the plate, a hunger overcoming her that she didn't realize she had. Taking the fork laying on top of the fluffy mounds of eggs, she eagerly set into the food.

  "Here's the deal," said Kyle as Jo ate. "You're in a new world now, whether you like it or not. Now that you know about the society, you're a part of it, even if in a tiny way."

  "So, what does that mean?" asked Jo.

  "It means that we're going to be getting to the bottom of this Bianchi thing. Me, because it's my job, and you, because they're probably looking for you right now."

  Jo stopped eating at this realization.

  "So, you're gonna stay put for a while. I'm gonna start asking around about these Bianchi pricks."

  "Just stay here?" said Jo.

  "Yeah. You're safe here."

  "But . . . what about my job?"

  "Your job?" Kyle asked. "Your life is in danger, and you're worried about your job?"

  "I can't just leave," she said. "Especially with Mr. Delany . . . gone. They're going to need me."

  Kyle rose, taking his plate into his hands and considering the situation.

  "No work today," said Kyle. "I doubt they're open the day after your boss got killed. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."

  Jo nodded before turning her attention back to her food, the dread of her current situation barely at bay.

  CHAPTER 8

  It was the next day, and when Jo got up in the morning, she went out into the apartment only to find it was still empty.

  Still not back, thought Jo, seeing no trace of Kyle.

  He'd left the previous afternoon, telling her that he was going to go ask some questions around town about the Bianchis, hoping to find out some more information about this strange clan.

  I still can't believe how fucking crazy this; but I know what I saw.

  Her sleep the previous night was haunted by the murder. It seemed to Jo that every time she'd close her eyes she'd see the same thing: those red eyes glaring at her, the razor sharp teeth below set in a wild, animal mouth.

  She wanted Mr. Jane gone, she wanted justice for what he'd done to her boss. But, instead, she was stuck in this empty luxury penthouse, with strict instructions by Kyle to stay put. Walking into the kitchen, she found a note written on a piece of thick-stock paper, the handwriting an oddly ornate style that she wouldn’t have expected from a man like Kyle.

  Big evening tonight. Stay put in the apartment today; I'll be back with information.

  - K

  She tossed the paper on the counter, frustrated at how in-the-dark Kyle was keeping her.

  I can't spend another day cooped up in this place, thought Jo. Not when I could be doing something.

  Then, a thought occurred to her, one that she knew that Kyle would not approve of–she wanted to go back to the office. After all, there had to be something there that could help Kyle's investigation; why shouldn't she use the fact that she's allowed to go to the scene of the murder to her advantage?

  Braced by determination, Jo set a pot of coffee to brew and started the process of getting ready. An hour or so later, she was dressed, a thermos of hot coffee in her hand, and a feeling of readiness propelling each step.

  I'll show Kyle for thinking the best thing I can do is stay out of the way, she thought, putting the spare apartment keys and phone in her purse and heading out the door.

  Anxiety welled in her stomach during her commute, fears that Mr. Jane would be there, as strange as the idea was, lurking in her thoughts. But, once she arrived at the office, she was relieved to find that, other than the staff being about half missing, things were mostly normal.

  "Jo!" shouted Amy, running towards Jo and wrapping her arms around her. "Where have you been? I've been calling nonstop for the last few days!"

  "Sorry, I lost my phone . . . I just . . . with everything that's been happening . . . ."

  Amy nodded in commiseration, tears in her eyes. They shared another hug before walking onto the office floor.

  "I can't believe he's gone," said Amy, looking at the floor around her as they walked.

  Jo looked around, seeing that the few employees who were there were operating at a lethargic pace, all seemingly still in shock.

  "I didn't want to come in today, but I couldn't let the place get too far behind."

  "It's what Mr. Delany would've wanted," said Amy.

  Sad thing is, that's right, thought Jo.

  After a little more catching up, the pair arrived at Jo's desk near Mr. Delany's office. The door to the office was closed, and through the glass, Jo could see the leftover markings and tape from a police investigation.

  "They're saying it's a suicide," said Amy. "But, they're still investigating."

  "Is it locked?" asked Jo, approaching the door.

  "What? You want to go in there?" responded Amy, her blue eyes wide in surprise. "Why? And, I mean, I don't think you're supposed to; you might get in trouble."

  "Listen," said Jo. "I know this sounds kind of fucked up, but just because Mr. Delany's gone, it doesn't mean that business is stopping. He's got files on his computer that we're going to need if we all want to stay in business, and I'm his assistant, so I can get to them."

  Amy nodded, understanding but still not sure that this was a good idea.

  "Okay, fine," said Amy. "I'll keep a look out if the cops show up again. But, I'm only letting you do this because keeping working in spite of someone dying would make Mr. Delany happy."

  Jo smiled. "Thanks,
Am."

  "Yeah, yeah," said Amy.

  Taking a quick look around, Jo opened the door to the office and stepped in. Just as she could tell from outside, the police had been here, though the computer had been left behind. A chill came over Jo as it settled on her that this was the scene of a murder. Putting those thoughts out of her mind, she pulled out the desk chair, took a seat, and booted up the computer.

  Jo began looking through the files on the computer, getting what she could organize and move over to an external drive for later access. And, once the legitimate work was done, she began to search through the rest of the system. Poking around and changing admin settings, she, to her surprise, came across dozens of folders that had been hidden.

  That's weird, thought Jo, accessing the files.

  The files listed transactions between buyers and sellers, money moving here and there, but some of the amounts were unverified as if they weren't being kept track of. But, Jo knew that Mr. Delany was as methodical as he was diligent; there was no way he'd miss the glaring mistakes between the purchase amounts and selling amount.

  But, as she looked them over further and realized what they were, she gasped.

  If these files were accurate, they were proof that Mr. Delany was engaging in money laundering, using the sale of real estate to move money, obtained in illegal transactions, into the legal realm, placing it into the bank accounts of people who were likely criminals.

  Then, as Jo prepared to copy the files onto her drive for later access, a message popped up on the screen.

  Look up and to the right.

  Jo's mouth slacked as she read the message, fear now coursing through her body. She did what the message said, her gaze moving up along the wall across from her and into the upper right corner.

  It was the black eye of a security camera. Another message flashed onto the screen seconds later.

  I see you ;)

  Then, the display of the computer went black, the tower whirring slowing and silencing as the machine turned off. Jo sat in the chair for a moment in horror, realizing that she was being watched. She yanked the hard drive out of the computer and made her way to the door, stepping out and shutting it behind her with a frantic push.

  "Jo!" said Amy, sitting at her desk. "You get what you need?"

  Jo didn't know how to respond. All she could think about at this moment was how she was likely in more danger now than ever before.

  "Um, yeah; I think so," said Jo, walking slowly towards the reception area.

  "I'm gonna go," she said.

  "You alright?" asked Amy.

  "Yeah. Just gonna look over this stuff from the computer."

  I am so fucking screwed, she thought, walking towards the exit to the office. She walked with the slow, measured steps of one walking to her own execution.

  CHAPTER 9

  Jo rushed back to Kyle's apartment, bolting the door behind her. Allowing her back to slide down the wall, she ran her hands through her hair as she considered the mess that she'd gotten herself into.

  I see you ;)

  The words appeared in her mind with total clarity.

  It had to be Mr. Jane, she thought. It had to be those fucking Bianchis.

  If they didn't already know who she was, they did now. And, on top of everything, she'd have to tell Kyle. Her eyes flicked to the kitchen clock; it was only eleven.

  Great. I get to spend the day thinking about how badly I've fucked up.

  She tried to pass the time by watching TV, but she couldn't shake the fear that now gripped her. Finally, several restless hours later, Kyle arrived.

  "There you are," he said, tossing his black-leather messenger bag on the bar between the living room and the kitchen as he walked in. "Important shit's going down, and y–"

  "I fucked up," said Jo, her words falling out in a clumsy tumble

  Kyle's expression turned grave, his eyes narrowing.

  "You fucked up how, exactly?" he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  Jo briefly considered fudging the truth, wondering if she could soften the blow of what she'd done with a careful omission of some of the more damning facts. She realized, however, that there was nothing to be done but to get it all out in the open.

  "I went back to the office."

  "You what?" demanded Kyle, sliding into the sleek, white chair across from Jo and looking at her with wide, unbelieving eyes.

  "I went back to the office."

  "What did I tell you about staying put? Do you have any idea what would've happened if the Bianchis found you?"

  "That's just it," said Jo, her eyes downcast. "I think they did."

  Kyle sat back in his seat. "Tell me everything. Now."

  Jo explained everything–going to the office, getting the files, finding possible proof that Mr. Delany was involved in illegal activities, and the strange message on the screen. After she was done explaining, Kyle sat back, his gaze in the middle distance, his fingers digging into the ends of the armrests.

  Jo's stomach quaked as she awaited Kyle's reaction.

  Finally, he spoke, his words careful, measured, and slow.

  "Do have any idea of what kind of danger you put yourself in?"

  Jo began to speak but was cut off by Kyle raising his hand.

  "Rhetorical question–you don't. You're lucky–goddamn lucky–that you got back here alive. I've seen what wolves can be capable of, and they're not ones to fuck around. You only got back here because they let you come back."

  Jo swallowed, realizing what this likely meant.

  "Which means they now likely know that you're here, and that I'm involved."

  "I'm sorry," said Jo, her voice small.

  "Save it. I don't need to hear your sorries. What I need to hear is that you're not going to disobey like that ever again."

  Jo wanted to agree, but a part of her, a prideful part, bristled at that. Kyle then stood, looming over her with his powerful frame.

  "And, you're not going to leave my side until this is all done with. That means no work, no nothing. You're going to be asking my permission for anything that involves you going where I can't see you."

  This was too much for Jo. She stood up, her head tilted up as she stood on her tip-toes in a feeble effort to try to match his size. Jo started deep into Kyle's emerald-green eyes, her own eyes narrowed, her nose scrunched in anger.

  "You can't tell me what to do! I'm not some kid, you . . . you asshole!"

  Kyle raised his eyebrows, his mouth forming a half-smile. He didn't seem to be intimidated in the slightest.

  "For someone who's not a kid, you sure are throwing a tantrum like one."

  That tore it. Jo balled her right hand into a little fist and brought it down in a sloppy hammer punch onto Kyle's chest. It was like punching a wall.

  "Ow . . .," said Jo, realizing that she probably hurt herself more than him.

  Kyle couldn't help but smirk.

  "As cute as it is to watch you try to act tough, I'm serious as it gets. You're in danger, and, clearly, you don't have the good sense to keep yourself out of it on your own."

  Jo gritted her teeth; it was like he was trying to get a rise out of her. Then, what's more, as she stood close to Kyle, looking up into his gorgeous, green eyes, his scent curling into her nose, she couldn't help but be painfully aware of how attractive he was.

  Realizing she was beaten, she collapsed back into her seat with a huff.

  "Always funny how the girls who can't help but look cute when they're mad are the ones who always want to start fights," he said, his mouth in another cocky smirk.

  "You're pushing it," said Jo, her legs tucked in close to the rest of her body.

  "But, let me make myself clear: do we have an understanding?" his voice was clear, deep, and stern.

  "Yes," Jo said after a pause, looking away, knowing she was completely in the wrong.

  "Good," Kyle said, sitting back down and crossing his legs. "Because we've got some pressing things to discuss."<
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  "Oh?" asked Jo.

  Kyle gave a quick nod. "I've been speaking with some of the other clans about the Bianchis; turns out that not even the wolves know what they've been up to. This Mr. Jane asshole . . . no one even knows his first name. Anyway, I told the elders about this whole situation, and they want to talk to me. Meaning, both of us."

  "The . . . elders?"

  "Every shifter species has its own little group of the oldest and most respected members of the clans. Each clan has their own representative called their ‘elder.' The idea being that they can make decisions for the clan to keep us out of trouble. Not to mention, function as our diplomatic connections to the other species."

  "Sounds . . . organized."

  Kyle let out a snort. "Something like that. The dragons put the system in place when things ended up getting too chaotic with the different species bumping up against one another constantly. It's not a perfect system, but it prevents shit–like a tiger killing a wolf because the wolf fucked his clan mate–from exploding into interspecies conflict . . . for the most part."

  "Oh, I see," said Jo. "Wait–did you say ‘dragons'?"

  "Let's not get sidetracked. The point is, my clan, the bears, have elders, and you're going to meet them. Tonight."

  "What?" Jo spat, her eyes wide in surprise.

  "That's right," said Kyle, seeming to take a little bit of pleasure in watching Jo get so flustered. "Tonight."

  "But, why me?"

  "Because this issue with the Bianchis is something they want to get to the bottom of. And, you're right in the middle of it."

  Kyle paused, looking away for a moment in thought.

  "And, don't get me wrong, cutie pie–I'm still mad that you ran off today, but if your boss is, I mean, was, into money laundering, this could mean that this thing with the Bianchis is even more complicated than we were thinking."

  "How do you mean?"

  Kyle rose from his seat. "Because if we've got a clan on our hands that's not only looking to build their power, but is getting into illegal activities in the human world, then we've got a hell of a situation."