A.L.F.A. Mates

by Milly Taiden

  He spun around. “Yes. I’m coming. Get all the guards in here to watch the ballroom doors. I don’t want anyone going inside, unless they want to die. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard straightened and opened the door wider. “Do you want the security monitors up here also?”

  “Yes,” her uncle replied. “I need their guns right now, not their eyes watching TVs.” Did her uncle intend to kill Freeman? Oh my god. She had to stop that from happening. “Also,” he continued, “make sure Freeman leaves his gun in the lobby or he doesn’t come in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The doors closed and silence encompassed the room. Laying there quietly in the dim candlelight, she felt the life pumping through her body again. Now that she knew what it felt like to be dead, being alive was freakin’ great. Now to get to Freeman.

  She pulled her arms from the semi-wrapped ties, swung her body to sit up, and hopped to the floor. Immediately, vertigo swept her away. Her vision spun, eyes darting side to side relentlessly. Her body stumbled sideways and she did her best to stay on her feet until she slammed into a wall.

  Grabbing at whatever her hands could find to keep her from falling, her fingers dug into soft, velvety material. The blackout curtains? She let the curtain hold her weight. Then she heard a tearing sound from directly overhead.

  She remembered the strange wind that blew through the room earlier had nearly ripped the material from the wall. It seemed that her body would be the means to finish what the wind started. Her ass smacked onto the floor. She ducked her head and rolled against the wall as fifteen feet of heavy curtain folded up on top of her.

  CHAPTER 29

  Frank paced in front of Ragusa’s house. “I’m telling you, Freeman, I have a really bad feeling. We need to go in guns blazing and sweep the house. Something is happening.”

  He had to see Amie. He needed to know more about their son. He needed to see both of them. Make sure they were okay and take them home where he could protect them. His family. His stomach knotted. He’d never imagined having children with anyone else, but once Amie left him, he didn’t think he’d ever have a family at all.

  In her letter, she’d given him a bigger reason to fight. Not just for her love, but for their child. The little boy who he already loved with all his heart but had yet to meet.

  He would do whatever necessary to get his son and his mate to safety. He had a family and he would protect them with his life.

  “Calm down, Dubois.” Detective Freeman pushed the doorbell button again to make sure they didn’t forget they were there. “Let’s see what’s going on before killing whoever steps into sight. Unlike you, I’m accountable for my actions.”

  Frank was in his face in a heartbeat. “What do you mean by that? You think I’m not responsible for my actions? That I’m reckless and kill for no reason?”

  “No.” Freeman put his hands on Frank’s shoulders and pushed him to arm’s length. “What I’m saying is that you are in a spot where the public can’t know you exist, which leaves me making up a story to explain the superhuman, kick-ass heroism I showed cleaning up the Mafia on my own.”

  Frank snorted and sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s just . . . Amie’s in there. I don’t know what he’s doing to her.”

  “We’re going to find out.” Freeman clicked the end of an audio recorder disguised as a ballpoint pen in his chest pocket just before the door opened.

  “Leave your weapons here or you don’t come in,” a guard said. Frank shucked his gun, setting it on the table. After a quick pat-down, they were escorted into the study. Ragusa sat behind his desk, supposedly working. He stood when they entered.

  “Ah, Detective Freeman. Always a joy.”

  “For you, maybe, Ragusa. I’m sick of looking at your ugly mug.”

  Ragusa laughed, but it was forced. The man smelled funny to Frank. Like a bunch of things normal humans shouldn’t encounter. Incense was strong—very strong. If he weren’t so close to the Mafia boss, he probably wouldn’t have smelled anything but stale sweat from his pores, along with fear and anger. It was too old to be from him and Freeman arriving. What had the man been doing before they got there?

  Ragusa’s face showed no expression. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat.” He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk.

  “We’d rather not,” Freeman said. “I have a warrant to search this house for a missing Amerella Capone. Her last known location was her home, down the street. We need to know if you are harboring someone who was at a homicide scene.”

  Frank knew that was a bunch of bullshit talking, but Freeman had to keep Ragusa talking until he smelled or noted something. He needed to find Amie.

  “Homicide scene?” Ragusa said, brows raised high. “Never heard that one.”

  “We haven’t had this situation come up with you before. Usually it’s the body—post homicide—that you hide. And for some reason, judges don’t believe you would keep a body in your sparkling mansion.”

  “Of course they wouldn’t,” Ragusa replied. “I pay them enough to be confident of that.”

  Freeman held his tongue. Frank was ready to rip into the guy. But since he couldn’t do that yet, he surveyed the surrounding area, looking for anything suspicious. Several guards where in the room: two stationed at the door they came in through and two more at a set of double doors behind them. He needed to nonchalantly move about the room to catch what smells he could. The incense was overpowering next to Ragusa.

  Freeman leaned on the expensive desk. “I bet you’re so proud of that, aren’t you? Knowing you have to pay off so many people to keep them in your pocket. That’s why you have to extort and skim money from your corporation, isn’t it?”

  “It appears I don’t have you in my pocket, Detective.”

  “I’m about the only one,” Freeman said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man. The senator wasn’t in my pocket.”

  “He’s dead,” the detective shot back.

  “Unfortunately, he is. Too bad, really. He was a good man for the public. Just very bad for us.”

  “So you had your son kill him, making it look like a coincidental killing at a bank robbery?” Freeman laughed. “I really hope you didn’t come up with that idea. You’d be slipping if you did.”

  Frank had moved around the room. The closer he came to the double doors, the stronger the smell of campfire. Not the soft smell of a fireplace, but hard woodsy burning.

  “What my son does is of his own accord. You have no proof of my involvement, and you won’t find any now that he’s dead.”

  Frank froze and Freeman stepped back. “Dead? How did he die? Where is the body?” Frank turned toward the doors and took a deep breath. Death. Two people in there were dead. Neither were his mate.

  “Fine, Detective,” Ragusa said. “Would you like to start your search upstairs in the guest rooms or down in the dungeon?”

  Frank asked, “How about in there?” He headed toward the ballroom.

  Ragusa laughed. “I’d say that was a brilliant idea, but it wasn’t an idea but a smell—wasn’t it, shifter?” Once again, Ragusa had caught him off guard. “I don’t need introductions now. I know who you are. Amerella’s mate.”

  Frank spun on the man, ready to tear him a new asshole. Ragusa had his gun pointed at Freeman and fired. Frank’s cat said it was time to get his ass moving on four legs. His shift came quickly, freaking out the men guarding the double doors, allowing him to bust them open.

  With his cat being in the room, he smelled Amie’s blood. There had been lots of it, but his eyes didn’t see any sticky liquid in the candlelit room. The guards from the study fired shots at him. He ran for the only cover available: the table and bonfire remains. He would’ve loved to get the download of what went on here. He’d expected to see sticks with wieners and marshmallows for roasting. Instead, he found two bodies,
both of which were toast.

  And Amie had been in the room.

  More guns fired at him. Men opened other doors and joined the first two guards. As he ran, the trailing bullets blasted through the windows, dissolving into the night air. When scouting the area outside just before he and Freeman knocked on the front door, he’d picked up his mate’s scent by a side gate and followed it to a room with large windows and curtains. The material was on the floor, but this had to be the room. If not, they could be screwed.

  CHAPTER 30

  Amerella lay on the floor under the pile of curtains. Damn, that shit was heavy. She could barely move, but for the moment, that was fine. If she did move, she’d probably throw up until her vertigo settled down.

  What was she thinking, getting up so quickly like that? She’d donated blood in the past and they always say to sit up slowly—that was with a few pints taken out. She was bled dry then had all the blood shoved back into her by the demon. That was something she did not want to repeat.

  Voices came from the other room. She remembered Detective Freeman was there. She knew her uncle would kill him if the man came alone. Something was off with her uncle. He’d looked strange before he left room. Did he lose his mind when his only son died? The whole family seemed off their rockers.

  Enough lying around. She had to get out of here. Warn Freeman, if she could get to him in time. Then escape, find Frank, and kick his ass for not saving her. Damn pussycat. Where the hell was he?

  She tried lifting to her hands and knees, but her limbs weren’t strong enough yet to overcome the curtain’s weight. Good fucking god—who had ever gotten stuck under curtains before? This was damn embarrassing and pathetic. Then gunshot reverberations came from the other room. Okay, maybe being stuck was all right for now.

  One of the doors to the room crashed open, followed by other doors, and then more guns went off. People were in her room shooting. Anything aimed her way would hit the windows, causing them to—she felt the dull impact of hundreds of shards as they sliced through the air on the way to her body. She prayed the curtains’ thickness repelled razor-sharp glass as well as it did light.

  From where she hid, it sounded like an army of men were standing next to her. Each yelling and shooting. Then one of them roared like a lion. The floor vibrated with impact, as if people were stomping. Torrents of bullets were loosed. A stampede of feet clomped. Growls and howls and roars scared the shit out of her. What was going on out there? She tucked closer to the wall.

  Men’s screams were cut off in wet, tearing rips of material and flesh. Gunshots became more sporadic. She felt the curtains tug and shift around her. Had the men found her? She was about to scream, when something soft and fluffy rubbed against her arm. What the hell? She pushed her hand out to lift a bit of the curtain in front of her face, and a little critter scooted closer to her. A bunny? A little bunny had found her under the ton of material.

  She latched on to it and squeezed it to her chest as the battle raged. Poor bunny was just as scared as she was. No wonder it was trying to find a place to hide.

  The noise quieted. No shots rang through the air. Even though she was human, she smelled the bloodbath. Her stomach rolled. But she didn’t want to puke on the bunny, so she quelled the bloody image in her head.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. One of the neighbors must’ve called 911. She would’ve, too, if World War III was being fought in her neighbor’s house.

  Then the floor shook again with the stamping of a hundred animals. They came toward her, then suddenly stopped. Wait a minute. Were people jumping through the broken windows, back into the night? But she thought she heard animals. Oh, god. She’d gone crazy, just like her uncle.

  She clutched the bunny closer, if there really was a bunny. She surmised she could be imagining the creature to comfort her in this darkest hour of her life.

  “Amie, I smell you. Where are you?” The curtain was again tugged.

  “Frank? You’re here?” She pushed her body up, making a hump in the mound. “I’m over here.” The weight started to lift and she scooped the bunny to her so it wouldn’t accidentally be tossed with the fabric. She was feeling better about the bunny being real, though she wasn’t going to think about how it got in the room and to her. That leaned toward the crazy side of things.

  The curtains were lifted off her and she took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized how hot and oxygen-deprived her little pocket of air had become. Frank scooped her up and pushed her face against his shoulder. “Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. You don’t need to see anything in here.”

  “Oh my god, Frank,” she murmured. “Did you read my letter? You know about—”

  Glass crunched under his feet for a few steps, then all was silent.

  “Yes, I know about our son. We’ll talk about it later. When you’re safe.”

  She realized Frank didn’t have a shirt on. With one of her hands, she skimmed her fingers over his chest and up to his neck. “Frank, why don’t you have a shirt on? Can I look now?”

  He set her on a divan in the foyer of the mansion. “You can open your eyes, sweetheart.”

  She saw he was completely naked. “Not that I’m complaining,” she said with a grin, “but now, of all times, to get naked and busy?”

  He laughed. “I’ll explain later. We never really went into all the aspects of shifting.” He looked at the critter in her arms. “I see Alice found you.”

  Amie glanced around the area, looking for her white-headed friend. The front door was open, but no one was there. Then it clicked. Alice was a rabbit. The thought freaked her out less than it should’ve, but shit, she’d been dead, come back to life, met a demon, nearly died under a heavy-ass curtain, and now she held a creature that was a good friend.

  Alice jumped from her hold and headed out the front door. After a couple panting breaths, Amie laughed at herself. And she laughed. Frank lifted her, then sat with her in his lap. Her laughter turned to tears and he stroked her head while she de-stressed from her ordeal.

  She let out a deep breath. “It’s over now, right? I’m safe.”

  “A bunch of men are dead, but I don’t know specifically about your uncle. We should get out of here in case he’s still alive somewhere.” He helped her to stand and they moved forward.

  “Wait,” Amie said. “Detective Freeman was here. Did you see him? Is he okay?”

  Frank frowned. “I don’t know where he is, either. Last I saw him, he was in the study. Your uncle shot him. I’m sorry, Amie.”

  She shook her head. She’d worry about it later. She wanted out of the house.

  Two gunshots blasted through the foyer, almost deafening her. She covered her ears, but Frank’s falling body dragged her to the ground. “Frank?” She wiggled to sit up and saw her uncle, bloody and limping slightly, aiming Joey’s gun at them.

  He looked insane. “Yes, Amerella. I am sorry. Sorry that I didn’t kill you when I killed your pathetic parents. You’ve been more of a thorn in my side than anyone except Freeman. But I’ve finally taken care of the bastard.”

  “Wait,” Amerella said, “you killed my parents in a car wreck? Why? They were no threat to you. And Mom was your sister. What kind of person could kill his own good-hearted sister?”

  “After she married that Capone, she became all high and mighty, always wanting to do the right thing. She acted as if his family hadn’t been worse than ours. The Capones, for fuck’s sake.”

  “That didn’t mean you had to kill them,” Amerella shouted. “You could’ve sent them back to Chicago.”

  He laughed. “And let your mother tell them all our secrets? Where all our hidden cache is? What our corporations are? No. I didn’t trust her or that husband of hers. They were planning to take over the family. Your mother was second in line after me to rule the family, until Tony came of age. I couldn’t have her running things. So I offed them befo
re they offed me. Fair is fair.”

  Amerella wanted to pull her hair out. Anger roared through her. This man had ruined so many lives. He didn’t deserve to live.

  She glanced down at Frank beside her. He hadn’t moved and she wondered why. The two bullet wounds in his back were streaming blood. She gasped and ripped her shirt off, using it to press down on the wounds. Why weren’t they healing? Didn’t he say shifters healed? The memory flashed in her head. They healed mostly when they shifted. Frank needed to shift or he’d bleed to death.

  Her uncle limped toward her, gun lifted. “Now I will kill you and put you with the other bodies, and no one will know the difference. I will have your trust fund and be set for the rest of my life.”

  That caught her off guard. Her trust fund? Where the hell had that come from? “The rules say if I’m dead on my twenty-sixth birthday, you get nothing. Guess my dad didn’t trust you, either.”

  He chuckled. “Wise man. But you forget the law, dear niece. What you have goes to your son . . . and his guardian. I so dearly loved you, taking you into my house when my sister tragically died. The courts will grant me custody of the child and all that is his. Just like they did you.”

  If she weren’t trying to keep Frank from bleeding to death, she’d punch the fucker standing in front of her in his saggy, old balls.

  “You will never get your hands on my son. He is protected now.” Well, by a grandmother shifter if his father died here in her arms.

  “Child, don’t be dense. Your Mojave friends are outed. Phone records are the easiest things to track. You should’ve had a burner phone for them instead of your normal mobile. You would’ve made such a bad goodfella, niece.”

  “Fuck you, Uncle. So would you,” Amerella retorted.

  He chuckled and put Joey’s gun against her forehead. She closed her eyes. She’d be joining Joey shortly. This time dying would be quick, with no waiting around for the brain to die.