by JC Holly
Thankfully it was nobody he knew. The guy was apparently from out of town and staying in a nearby hotel until the end of the month. There was a photo attached that looked like it had been taken from a camera phone. It was clear enough to make out the man’s features, though.
The details were sparse, as Paul had expected. They covered the basics, like where the man had been seen eating, and roughly what hours he kept. If Paul had actually been willing to do the job it would be enough, he figured. He dropped the folder back onto the seat and placed his forehead on the steering wheel.
How the hell did I get here? It was a stupid question to ask. He knew exactly how he’d got there. Idiotic decisions as a young wolf, fuelled by overconfidence and anger. He wouldn’t blame Darren in the least if he decided he wanted nothing to do with him once he’d revealed his sordid past.
He took the elevator up to his floor rather than the stairs, since it was a lot harder to be spied on in a small steel box. As the doors pinged open, he took a tentative sniff. No Weres in the area. Maybe he was being overcautious, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
He slipped into his apartment and locked the door, before dropping the folder to the table and sitting on the couch.
Ethan’s plan wasn’t exactly complex. Find the man, warn him, feign ignorance if Gabriel questioned the man’s disappearance. Still, plans didn’t have to be fancy, as long as they worked. Now that Paul had the guy’s name, photo, and location, he could pass it on to Ethan surreptitiously and then make sure he was out somewhere he could be seen while someone else warned the target. Hopefully Gabriel would assume the guy got spooked over something and fled, leaving Paul in the clear. He’d then tell Gabriel that he’d told Ethan everything, and Gabriel would no longer have any hold over him.
“Fat chance of that part,” he muttered.
* * * *
Paul pulled into the driveway of Darren’s home a few hours later. After hiding the folder inside an instruction manual, he’d dropped it off, along with a few lengths of lumber, at his construction site and left it in a prearranged spot. At some point in the next few hours, someone would swing by and pick them up, then drop the manual off at the club for Ethan and Avani. All that was left for Paul for the time being was making sure he was seen out and about.
Since he was almost definitely being watched, he decided to waste his tail’s time by walking to Darren’s place. The long walk would also give him time to work out how he was going to tell Darren about his past.
The snow had begun to fall again by the time he set foot outside of the apartment building, and the sun was hidden behind a gray and cloudy sky. It suited Paul’s mood. He thrust his hands in his pockets and put his head down as he trudged along the snow- and slush-covered sidewalk.
How had it come to this? Blackmail, murder, lying…It sounded more like the plot of a soap opera than a life. If Gabriel realized Paul had scared the target off, he was as good as dead. If Ethan decided to teach Gabriel a lesson, it would lead to a pack war, leaving even more dead, and each death would be Paul’s fault. For a brief moment he considered disappearing. Just continuing to walk until he crossed into the next city, then go underground and head for the border. Gabriel would give up searching for him soon enough. And move on to some other Were to do his dirty work for him. No. That wasn’t the answer. All it would do would be to inconvenience Gabriel.
Paul swore and stopped dead in the street as he came to a realization. Even if he got away with the plan, Gabriel wouldn’t stop using Paul. As soon as he found out that Ethan knew everything, he’d simply find another way to blackmail him. Paul had few secrets other than the ones regarding his old pack, but Gabriel could easily have a friend kidnapped, or frame Paul for something. Or take Darren.
No. This plan was only the start. Gabriel needed to be put down. Permanently.
* * * *
Darren was in the kitchen when he sensed the presence of another Were. He frowned and dropped the cup he was washing into the sink, then headed to the front door. His fingers paused on the door handle. If it was someone he didn’t know, he could be in trouble. Best to have the door as a barrier, rather than to open up for the unwanted guest.
He peered through the windows into the gloomy afternoon, but he couldn’t see anyone yet. Either they were hiding or they were too far away, and Darren wasn’t adept enough yet to tell the difference.
A minute of stressful waiting later, he sighed in relief as his sense of smell kicked in. It was Paul. He opened the door to see the man walking down the street toward the house, his form covered in snow.
“It’s the abominable snowhotty,” Darren called as he waited in the warm of the doorway. “Where’s a camera when you need it.”
Paul paused halfway up the drive to shake himself like a dog, shedding a great deal of the snow. “I see your sense of smell is improving.”
Darren stood aside, then helped Paul off with his coat. “Sensed you before I smelled you, actually, though I can’t differentiate through that yet.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Hell of a sense. Just kicked in?”
“I guess so. I don’t remember it being this good before.”
He nodded. “It can come on like that. Smell is gradual, but the sensing can ramp up all of a sudden sometimes. Handy, though.”
“Yeah, I’ll know when to put the coffee on.”
Paul bent to remove his boots. “I was thinking more of knowing when danger’s coming.”
Darren shrugged and headed into the kitchen. “I prefer mine. Less depressing.”
“I killed Gabriel’s brother.”
Darren froze in the doorway, his hand on the frame. “What?”
“I killed someone, and Gabriel is blackmailing me into killing someone else.”
“I…I don’t…” He shook his head, as if it would clear the confusion. “We need coffee and comfy seating. Then you’ll tell me everything.”
The coffee was ready, and Darren poured it into two cups, trying not to think about what Paul had told him. You need to hear everything before you can judge. It could have been self-defense, an accident…
“We’ll talk in the lounge,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.
Paul stood in the hall, still, uncertain. He nodded, and walked in. Darren followed and sat in the armchair across from Paul’s place on the sofa.
“So,” he said as he leaned over to hand Paul his coffee. “I think you’d better start.”
“I think I had.”
He stared into his coffee for a moment, a frown on his face as, Darren assumed, he tried to work out where to start. Eventually he took a breath and looked up.
“I was turned by a Were that I never met again. Like you I had no clue what I had become at first, and back then I couldn’t Google it, either. I knew the tales of werewolves and the like, but that didn’t quite match up to what I was.” He glanced at the window, then back to Darren. “Gabriel found me one day while I was running the hills, not far from the bike trail. He told me he knew what I was, and that he could help me, make me more than ‘just another confused wolf.’
“I accepted straightaway, and met the pack the same night. They were fewer back then, but the attitudes remained the same. They thought they were above humans, and that they could do whatever they wanted. I’m sorry to say that I soon came to feel the same way.”
“You didn’t know any better, though,” Darren said. “It’s not like they hand out manuals after you’re bitten.”
Paul smiled, though it was thin. “Even if they did I wouldn’t have listened. I was an angry and cocky man, and the wolf heightened that. Mostly because I let it.”
“So you were basically a gang?”
He nodded once. “Extortion, theft, we covered most of the petty stuff, and the pack still does. Mostly though we just hunted and drank together and got in fights.”
“So what happened with Gabriel’s brother?” Darren’s stomach clenched in unease. “Self-defense?”
“Yes an
d no.”
“Andy and I were both seconds-in-command, though he left the boring parts to me. We didn’t get on at the best of times. He often chose the other side of an argument just so he was opposed to me. We got into it one night after too much booze, and we decided to settle it as wolves.” Paul sipped his coffee, likely as an excuse to gather himself. “I got the jump on him, much to my surprise, and got him into a submissive position. The next thing I know my nip at his throat to prove dominance had turned into a mouth full of blood and a dead wolf on the ground.”
“So you slipped?”
He shrugged. “I guess I must have. What most Weres won’t tell you is that they can’t handle their booze in wolf form. I knew that, as Andy did, but we were both too drunk, and too angry, to care. He paid the price.”
Darren realized he’d come forward in his chair during the story and leaned back again. Paul looked relieved to have come out with it all, but he also looked scared. He doesn’t know how I’m going to react.
“So Gabriel accused you of murder and kicked you out of the pack.”
“That’s the short version, yes. The longer version involves a few days tied to a chair.” Paul fiddled with the coffee cup. “In the end he didn’t have proof that I did it intentionally, and several witnesses came out on my side. At the time I thought he had an attack of conscience and decided to let me go free. Then he called a few weeks later.”
“I see. He held the death over your head and used it to make you do things.”
Paul nodded. “Things he didn’t want his pack to know about, mostly, or didn’t want them involved in so they couldn’t demand a cut. Mostly theft and assault. Nothing I hadn’t already done.” He rubbed a hand through his snow-dampened hair and fixed Darren’s gaze. “This makes me sound like the worst of the worst, I know. Once out of the pack, I changed. Fast.” He sighed. “Other than the stuff Gabriel held over me. I was terrified of being arrested for murder, though over time that became less of an issue. Then I joined with Ethan, though, and Gabriel threatened to tell him everything. Same deal at the moment. He wants me to kill somebody, and if I don’t, he’ll reveal all.”
Darren held Paul’s stare, but he didn’t know what to say or do. He knew how he felt about Paul, and that hadn’t changed, had it? He was obviously remorseful of his actions in the past, and who the hell hadn’t done things they regretted? Still, he had killed a man, even if it was accidental. Darren didn’t know how to deal with that.
“I need some time to think about this.” He held up a hand as Paul’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t blame you for the death, or think that you’re still that guy, but I don’t like that you didn’t tell me, or that you didn’t reveal just how dangerous Gabriel was after I met him.”
“He won’t bother you again. I have his word.”
“The word of Gabriel doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
Paul sighed, then stood. “I can see your point. You have my number. Please call, either way.”
Darren promised he would, then led him to the door. Paul leaned in for a hug, but Darren folded his arms across his chest and wished him a safe walk. His heart broke as Paul’s face fell. The man left, shoulders slumped, and headed off into the fresh snow.
Chapter Twelve
Paul didn’t know where he was going, only that with every step he was getting farther away from where he wanted to be.
He couldn’t blame Darren for his reaction, in fact it had been a lot better than it could have been. He’d said himself that he didn’t blame Paul for the death, and that he didn’t think he was the same man anymore. That had cushioned the blow, at least. He was right about Paul not telling him, too. Yes, they had only known each other less than a week, but the relationship had progressed faster than some do in a month or more.
“I’m a fool,” he told the darkening street.
He looked up to get his bearings and found himself across the street from a bar. It wasn’t The Wolfpack, but he’d been in before. It was quiet and warm, and better suited to drowning his sorrows in. Nobody he knew who could judge him. He pulled up the lapels of his jacket against a sudden gust of cold wind and headed over.
The place was dead, though it was still early. Less than a dozen people took up a few of the barstools and booths. An old country tune drifted from a nearby speaker. It would do. He settled into a barstool and ordered a double Scotch, neat, and drained the glass in a swallow. The whiskey hit his empty stomach hard, but he ordered a second, then a third. The barman eyed him but said nothing.
It didn’t take long until the alcohol began to work its way throughout his body, clouding his thoughts in a soothing balm. He drained a fourth glass, then waved away the bottle when the barman offered another. He knew his limits, and he was already past them.
He turned on his stool to watch as a few people came into the bar. Three men and a woman, two of them a couple judging by the way their scents were all over each other. Happy, smiling, probably not a care in the world. Paul snarled and turned back to the bar.
“Gimme that bottle.”
* * * *
Robby had been reluctant to drive over in the snow, but once Darren mentioned an unopened bottle of tequila—unopened because Darren would rather drink from a toilet—he said he’d be there in ten.
“So, what’s the matter?” Robby asked when he arrived, twenty minutes later. “Boytoy?”
“Yeah.”
He dropped onto the sofa, where Paul had sat earlier, and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Well, tell me.”
Darren chewed the tip of his tongue. “Everything had been going great until he told me this secret of his, and now I don’t know what to think.”
“Don’t tell me, he’s married.” Robby rolled his eyes. “If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard that…”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“He’s into something really kinky? I say try it, you might like it.”
“No, it’s not that, either.”
“Well, then tell me. Guessing will get old pretty fuckin’ quickly.”
Darren sighed. “I can’t. It’s secret.”
“Well, then give me the gist.”
“He did some stuff years ago that’s pretty bad, but he regrets it. He’s also in trouble now because of what he did in the past.”
Robby leaned back in the chair, his hand limp over the edge of the armrest. “We all have skeletons in our closet. I know for a fact that you’re no saint, Darren.”
“Compared to Paul, I’m a boy scout.”
He shrugged. “And has what he’s told you changed how you feel about him?”
“Yes and no.”
“You can’t answer that question like that. Pick one.”
Darren grabbed the tequila bottle and poured out two shots, giving him time to think. He still felt the same about Paul, didn’t he? He still smiled when he thought about him, and wished he was sitting in Robby’s place. He’d even rather be training with him than sitting in the lounge drinking crap booze wondering what he was doing at that moment.
“No. It hasn’t changed the way I feel. I still really like him.” He smiled. “Really really like him.”
Robby grinned as he took his shot. “Then what, precisely, is the fucking problem, moron?”
Darren down his shot and grimaced at the burn as the tequila worked its way into his stomach. “He kept it from me.”
“Well, of course he did.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Think about it.” Robby poured two more shots. “You’re just getting to know a guy and bam!” He slapped the glass on the table. “He tells you this deep dark secret. You barely know the guy, you’re still making your mind up about whether you’re going to kiss him goodnight or swallow his spunk, and suddenly there’s this…thing…that you wished you didn’t know. It’s going to affect your opinion.”
“True, I guess.”
“If you’d known straight away, would you have been interested in him still?”
Darren thought back to when they’d first met. In the bar he’d seemed a little brash and intimidating. The way he knew more about Darren than Darren knew about him was disconcerting enough for him to run home. If he’d added accidental death to that, or even within the first couple of days, what would have happened?
“And not to mention…” Robby paused to down his second shot. “You’ve only been going out like five days.”
“Five days? Is that it?” Darren laughed. “Feels like more.”
“Good sign.” Robby smiled. “Still, that he told you this soon, for whatever reason, shows a lot of trust. I’ve known you years and I wouldn’t tell you my secrets.”
“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to know them.”
He grinned. “You’ll never know. Now, let’s finish this bottle.”
* * * *
Paul was just settling into melancholy when someone tapped him hard on the shoulder. He turned to see his ex-pack-mate, Mickey. The big son of a bitch from the warehouse yesterday. He had two women with him, though neither were Weres. Probably picked them up in a bar.
“Look who it is,” he said, his thick arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing in my seat?”
“Polishing it with my ass,” Paul said as he turned back. “Get lost.”
Mickey’s hand clapped onto Paul’s shoulder, his grip like iron. “I think you should move.”
“And I think you should let go of me.” Paul rolled the whiskey in the bottom of his glass. “Before you regret it.”
Mickey laughed, followed by the two women. “Face me, murderer.”
The women hushed. “Murderer?” one said. “He killed someone?”
Paul ignored the stab of pain in his gut at the word. It had been a long time since someone had called him that, but it still hurt just the same. “Was an accident.”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t believe you. Never did.”
He turned, the glass still in his hand as he downed the whiskey. “And I never believed you could count past ten.”