Chapter 8
Hank
I pull my car into the parking lot along the side of Balls Up. All I thought about on the drive over was that asshole, Elijah Ryder. His family always believed they were above the law. In an ironic twist of fate, they kind of are now that Ryder is chief of police.
Unfortunately, the old cat won’t let the situation rest until everyone involved in Jackson’s death is punished. After all Brady and his pack have done for me, a warning is a necessity.
Thankfully, it’s still too early for a crowd at the sports bar. Glancing through the door, I notice the place is empty except for Brady and his constant companion Audra Nevers, a female he needs to go ahead and claim. The two of them have been an item since high school. They step out of an intimate embrace as I enter the bar.
“Hank, you don’t usually come around this early. Problem?” Brady backs away from Audra.
“We need to talk.”
The beautiful brown-skinned wolf and the alpha for her family gazes between Brady and me. “Baby, I’ll wait for you in the office.”
“Thanks, sugar.” He squeezes her hand and watches her tight ass sashay from the room. Brady sighs and says, “A sight I never get tired of seeing.”
I jerk my chin in her direction. “When you gonna go ‘head and claim her?”
Brady shakes his head with a grin on his face. “Man, I’m more than ready. It’s up to her though.” He walks around the counter and pours a beer for me. Grabbing a bottle of Jack and a tumbler, Brady asks, “What’s up, Hank?”
“Elijah Ryder.”
Brady stops mid-pour and looks up at me. “Shit. How bad?”
“Did you know he’s the chief of police?”
“Naw.” Brady finishes pouring and slides a glass across the surface.
I gulp down half the brew before speaking. “Well, our new chief is using his position to get revenge.”
“Fuck.” Brady pours himself a couple of fingers’ worth of whiskey. “What’s the situation?”
“I’m done with the force. Ryder’s setting me up for a fall. No way am I going out like that.” I finish off the beer.
Brady tosses back his whiskey. “We need a plan. Old man Elijah ain’t gonna stop until we pay for Jackson’s death.”
“I know.” I raise my hand when Brady offers a refill. The answer to my dilemma can’t be found in alcohol. “I’m leaving town with Edwina.”
“Edwina?” Brady’s eyebrow lifts. His voice is full of wonder. “When did that happen?”
“It ain’t like that.” I bow my head. “We’re going to New Orleans for Tyson. He’s in trouble.”
Brady leans across the counter. “How is Edwina going to help you with that?”
“She knows people. New Orleans is her hometown,” I mutter.
Good going.
I had my chance to be straight about Edwina, and I couldn’t do it. Kind of difficult when I’m not sure what my feelings are for her. All I know is I want her by my side. All the time.
“Okay.” Brady pours himself another drink. “If that’s the lie you want to hold on to, I’ll accept it. Tell me what you need from me.”
Brady Romero and the Romero pack have done more than enough for me.
Seven years ago, I showed up on Brady’s doorstep looking and smelling like an alley cat. Blood covered my T-shirt while deep claw marks marred my arms.
“What the hell happened to you?” Brady looked past me, checking to see if I’d been followed. He shut the door and ushered me down the stairs to the basement.
His father, Santiago, waited for us. The patriarch dragged a hand through his thick, graying hair and growled.“Tell me you did not do what I think you did.”
I stayed silent while Brady paced frantically.
Santiago’s amber eyes traced his son’s motions before his gaze landed on me. His piercing stare made me feel like prey. Tremors tore through my body. I balled my hands, trying to calm the shaking. It was the first time I ever took a life.
“Jackson attacked Jenn.”
Brady stopped in his tracks. “How is she?”
“Dead.” The word tumbled out of my mouth. The reality of my actions sank me to my knees.
With surprising calm, Santiago asked, “What happened?”
It was a struggle putting the events into words, but somehow I managed. “I was out for a run and heard Jenn’s scream. When I found her, it was too late. Jackson, his mouth bloodied, stood over her. He took one look at me and challenged me. I didn’t hesitate to take him down.”
“You need to leave town,” Santiago instructed.
There was no judgment in his tone. Just compassion. A foreign concept for me. Wolves hung in packs and did what was good for all members. Cats only looked out for their own best interests. If I’d followed pack mentality, Jackson might still be alive and someone like Santiago would have meted out his punishment.
Leaving town, however, wasn’t possible no matter how logical it seemed. Sheila and I had some problems, but I couldn’t leave her especially since she was pregnant. “No. Sheila needs protecting.”
Brady exchanged a suspicious gaze with Santiago, and then the older wolf left the room.
“The pack will protect you.” Brady helped me to my feet. “But you can’t go home.”
“But Sheila—”
“She’s moved on.” Brady fixed a pointed look in my direction. “She’s been keeping time with Tyson.”
The news nearly sent me back to my knees. “You’re wrong. I’m going to be a father.”
“Sorry to tell you, but the kit is Tyson’s. Sheila blabbed to Audra. Hell, the whole fucking town knows.”
Everyone except me.
Brady removed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from a shelf and tossed them at me. “Change your clothes. We need to get you moved before Old Man Ryder discovers Jackson.”
The Romero pack hid me out on their estate for a few months while I waited for the incident to blow over.
“You’ve done enough, Brady. Take care of yourself, and watch out for Audra.”
Brady nods. “How the hell did Elijah Ryder get to be chief?”
“Wish I knew. I think Council gave him the position,” I offer.
“If that’s true, we’ve got some big ass problems in this town.” Brady tosses his drink back.
“Brady.” Audra’s voice comes from across the room.
“Yeah?”
“We need to call a meeting. Get our packs together. If Elijah’s waging war, we need to be prepared.”
Turning the key in the weather-worn door, I enter the three-story Victorian I’ve been renovating. This place was for Sheila. Somehow I thought we’d make it a real home, fill it with kits, grow old together. My wife proved it was a stupid idea.
While I was planning for our future, she was busy with her own agenda. Somehow I missed every damned clue. At least Sheila and Tyson left town, sparing me the indignity of watching her stomach grow with a kit I thought was mine.
This isn’t the time for memories though. Action is a must. I drop my shield and the police-issued revolver into the shoe box and wrap duct tape around it. I’ll drop off the package on the way out of town. I’m going to miss being a detective, but it was never my desire to be part of a crooked-ass force. With Elijah Ryder at the helm and Captain Miller his yes boy, the FCPD will operate on a current of corruption.
Opening the closet, I crouch low and run my hand along the floorboards. I find the loose one and tap it. Underneath the oak plank is my Glock, ammo, and nearly a hundred thousand dollars in stacked bills—some of the money I inherited from my old man. It’s my personal getaway kit—all I need to get started somewhere else. After the trouble with Jackson, I stashed the items in case I needed to run. The clothes I left at Edwina’s will suffice.
Grabbing my laptop and power cord before descending the stairs, I head to the car. I’ll send the house key to my mother. She’ll know what to do with it. In her travels she meets supernaturals in need of housing. Maybe someone else will show the old house some love.
It’s time to hit the road while night covers the land.