Chapter 40
Lachon opened his eyes. The lids scratched like sawdust against his retina. It felt like he'd been chewing on cotton balls. He lay perfectly still, tried to recall how much he'd drunk the night before, tried to recall anything about the night really. He turned his head into the pillow and inhaled. His senses flared to life on a deep ragged breath, were assaulted with her smell. Images of strawberry blond hair and delicate curves and the flash of a gun flashed in to his mind. He bolted upright. Pain shot through his temple.
“Goddamn.”
Cradling his head, he surveyed the surroundings. Apparently, she'd given him a pillow and blanket after drugging him. He extended his arms above his head. Stretched out his stiff back. Reached for his cell phone to call his men, only to discover it was no longer in his pocket. He vaguely recalled her saying something about shooting him up with enough tranquillizers to keep him down for two days. He gently rolled to his side and climbed to his feet to search for her landline. The pounding in his head was relentless. When he finally located the phone, he was unsurprised to find no dial tone. They weren't going to make this easy on him apparently.
He stumbled outside to his vehicle to see all the tires slashed.
“Goddamn,” he bellowed, then gripped his head again. Disgusted with himself, he began the lengthy walk to a neighboring home.
At the end of the long driveway sat a bottle of water and a note with a message from Quinn.
“Good luck on your walk. There is a phone at the winery one mile away. Morjin and Hurveet are good people so don't be rude to them when you get there. P.S., there is Tylenol above the fridge if you need to go back and get a couple.”
“Goddamn,” he yelled to the wind again before turning back to the house, water bottle in hand, to get the bloody Tylenol.
~ ~ ~
Twenty minutes later, Lachon walked up the drive to Strawberry Creek Wines. A log house rested at the top of a hill covered in blooming vines. A larger home nestled further inside the property. Presumably that was the primary residence. He approached the house and knocked politely. An older Sikh woman opened the door.
He smiled. “Sorry to bother you ma’am. I stopped at my friend Quinn Taleisin’s just down the road from here, but she isn't home. And I drove over a nail, or something, in her driveway. Can I borrow your phone to call for a pick up and AMA?”
The woman, (Morjin?), gave him a once over. “You’re a friend of Quinn's? She’s out of town.”
“Yeah, guess I should’ve called first. I must’ve drove over a piece of metal or a nail in her yard. Anyway, my cell is out of power and now I'm stuck out here.”
He pulled out his wallet and showed her his identification. “I'm a police officer. I'm off duty and wasn't expecting to need my phone today.” In his world, he was the Law so it wasn't as though he were actually lying to them.
The woman’s face relaxed as soon as she saw the badge. “Of course, sure, come in. My husband is in the kitchen making dinner. You can join us if you'd like.”
Lachon thanked her again, but refused dinner. He made a quick call to his staff, told them to meet him at Quinn's place. Then assured Morjin and her equally kind husband that he didn't need a ride back. He was happy to walk. It gave him much needed exercise he promised them.
He made it back to Quinn's a few minutes before his men arrived and removed all the evidence of his night on her floor. A black, Rolls Royce helicopter, filled with four tires touched down in the center of the yard. He grimaced when it landed on Quinn’s Tulips.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked when four men jumped out in full combat gear.
His first in command, Idris, answered for the group. “Quinn Taleisin hasn't been heard from for two days. Files have also been found missing from the archives. We thought it best to come prepared.”
“Ah Christ,” he groaned. “What's missing?”
“The deleted files are related to the Taleisin and Gondien families. It was a thorough job. Only the keeper would have that much access.”
So, they were erasing any evidence of Gray's marriage and death. The only people left who knew the truth about what’d happened were himself, Domhall, Taurin and Ealian. He wondered, not for the first time, if he knew the whole truth. How much he’d been lied to. How much he’d been blind too. Her death was one of his greatest failings.
He shared none of his thoughts. He trusted Idris. In truth, he was the closest thing to a friend Lachon had had in years. But he needed facts before opening Pandora’s box.
“Get the tires changed and have one of the men take my vehicle back across on the ferry. I need to be flown directly to my office. I have a few calls to make.”
“Anything else you want to go over?” Idris prompted.
“I'll let you know when there’s something more. For now, just get me in the air.”
Idris nodded and turned to bark orders at his men over the noise of the helicopter blades.
~ ~ ~
Fifteen minutes later, they had the chopper unloaded and back in the air, with Lachon and Idris on it. Two men stayed behind to deal with his car. Lachon rested his head on the chopper seat and closed his eyes hoping to quiet the pain in his head.
In record time, they landed on the top of his building. It was a tinted glass, thirty stories tall structure, in the heart of downtown Vancouver. He lived on the top floor. His offices encompassed the four stories below that. The building reeked of power and wealth. Practically screamed one-percenter. Lachon made no apologies for it.
He jumped out of the machine before the blades finished whirling. “Keep this quiet for now, Idris, and instruct the other men to do so as well.”
Idris cracked knuckles covered in tattoos. “They won't say a word.”
Lachon barely waited for his reply before rushing off the roof and into his office. He settled himself behind his desk, took a moment to inhale the musky scent from his books and sighed deeply. Knowledge was power. Knowledge kept that power from careening out of control.
He rubbed his hands along the teak desk. A soothing motion to remind him where he was. Who he was. Turned to look out at the view of the city below him. He thought back to what Quinn had whispered in his ear. A son. How had they been so clueless? He sighed again. It didn't change anything.
Understandably, Domhall had been conflicted. But even he admitted his daughter was on the edge of losing control. Taurin and Ealian were less conflicted about it, of course. Gray had openly belittled their leadership.
Not for the first time, he wondered about the twins’ relationship with the older dragon they’d presented as a mate. Now, he wondered if they’d known about Gray’s real husband all along.
He twisted in his chair lost in thought. Domhall had been his best friend for over a thousand years. The death of his daughter had destroyed that friendship. It had scarred Domhall. It had changed them all.
He studied the traffic below him. He liked this world, this city. Liked the pace of the humans here. He'd lived through a lot of times and places, but Vancouver suited him. It was how the wild lived on the edge of sophistication. There was a beauty to it that he loved. It was a beauty he enjoyed being a part of.
Feeling heavier than he could ever remember feeling, Lachon picked up the phone and dialled a number he knew by heart.