"I don't know, L." The voice of Darryl, one of my contacts in the werewolf community, crackled uncertainly on the other end of the phone. "I haven't heard nothing about a hiring but, then, I don't always stay up on this stuff. And the high-class killers - you know they don't advertise when they got a job."

"I know," I said. "Anyone you can press on it without raising suspicions?"

I could hear Darryl shaking his head, his shaggy hair grazing the phone. "You're talking about some pretty top-end stuff. Start asking questions on that and they may be the last questions a poor boy asks."

"I understand, Darryl."

And I did. Darryl knew I paid well for information but it wasn't worth his life.

"Just keep an ear to the ground. No need to raise any flags, but if you hear something on the grapevine - anything at all - let me know."

"Will do, L. Later."

"Later, Darryl."

I hung up and sat back in my seat pensively. The last few days of phone calls and pounding the pavements had not been productive. Although I was working for the Pack Leader, I was struggling to get help from my usual contacts on the ground. The fact was that, even though I hadn't said anything, everybody knew who the suspects were and they were not that happy about going against the brothers. Whether King was killed or not, there was still a chance that one of them would be the next Pack Leader somewhere down the line, and no one wanted to be on the bad side of a Pack Leader.

I glanced down at the notepad in front of me, on which, at some point that afternoon, I had scrawled three names; Arctic, Hokkai, MacKenzie. The other three Pack Leaders all had something to gain by assassinating King, and had even more to gain by framing one of the brothers. Come to think of it, framing all three of them - or framing a brother but not a specific one - would be even better. Frame Tanner, and Gray would be next in line, but if all three were suspected, then King's death would lead to chaos as power was dragged between different factions supporting each of the brothers. And in the midst of that anarchy, another pack could easily attack and take the Kenai territory. It would be the biggest power shift in the city for generations.

But the fact that it was plausible didn't make it so. The brothers’ motives were just as plausible, together or separately, and the poor relationship they each enjoyed with their father just made it all the more believable.

Since their unexpected visit last Saturday, I had done a bit of nosing around and made up a set of biographical notes on the brothers. It made for pretty wild reading. Tanner's temper had gotten him into trouble more times than I could count; when he was younger, he had crossed the border into MacKenzie territory simply because someone had called him a name. He had taken down five wolves by the time the police showed up and King had had to buy his son out of jail. Gray was more shadowy, he had had a mate, who seemed to have died - though I could find no details as to how.

He had also vanished for eighteen months when he was eighteen, no one knew where he had gone but he had come back with an imposing scar on his chest. As teenagers, they had all indulged a bit in drink and women, partying hard and fucking harder, but Hudson seemed not to have grown out of it. As a young man, he had favored older females of his own species, and however loose were werewolf rules on mating, he had still refused to be constrained by them, forcing his father into some very awkward conversations with members of the Pack Court, whose mates had been appropriated for one night, then abandoned. Perhaps for that reason, or because of changing tastes as he grew up, he had acquired a taste for human women looking for a bit of tail. Six months ago, he had gone missing for a week, and been found, passed out drunk, stark naked, with five human women. His clothing was never found.

At first, it made me wonder if King had a point, but the stories about the youth of the current Pack Leader were at least as wild and were all tempered with violence. There was not a story about Kenai King that did not end in blood.

Night had fallen while I stared at my notes, and I was still pondering what to do next when the phone on my desk rang.

"Malone."

"Miss Malone? This is Kenai Hudson."

These guys surprised me at every turn. I hadn't expected to sleep with Tanner, I hadn't expected to find the three of them in my office, and now they were calling me out of the blue.

"I thought I made my answer clear," I said, laying down the law before he had the chance to say anything.

"I need your help, I didn't know who else to turn to." Now, I could hear the panic, sharp in his voice. "Gray's been hurt."

"Where are you?" Surely, there were better people than me for him to call?

"Sleaford Street," said Hudson.

That was Hokkai territory. No wonder he hadn't called another wolf.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you." I could tell from his voice that he meant it.

I ran out of my office and took the stairs three at a time. Outside, I jumped into my car and headed off into the night, leaving the speed limit far behind me. Questions raced through my head as I drove; what were they doing in Hokkai territory - dangerous for any Kenai wolf, an act of war for a Pack Leader's son? How had Gray been hurt and how badly? And of course; was there a chance that this was a trick, and they were setting me up to get me out of the way?

While I lived next door to the border with Arctic territory, I had to drive all across the Kenai territory to cross into Hokkai-held ground. For a part-wolf, it was as easy as it was for a human, you didn't even notice you were doing it, but for a wolf there had to be a reason.

One of the first things I did when I went into my current line of work was to commit the map of the city to memory. I doubt that even a taxi driver knew their way around the city better than I did - it was my hobby to have an exact knowledge of the city, and I could pinpoint every street and the territory into which it fell. Sleaford Street was not right on the edge of Hokkai territory, but nor was it in the heartland. It was deep enough in that Gray must have had one hell of a good reason.

It was about half an hour after I got the call from Hudson that I rounded a corner onto Sleaford and my headlights caught Hudson standing by the wall with Gray, slumped on the ground behind him. But they weren't alone. Three werewolves stalked towards them, their bodies shaggy with hair, their claws held ready, their teeth bared for action. Hudson had put himself between them and his stricken brother, and as I watched, I saw him change, his shirt splitting as his muscular chest expanded still further, his bright blonde hair seeming to explode across his body. He roared back at his adversaries ferociously, determined to protect Gray.

I didn't hesitate. I slammed my foot down on the gas and plowed the car straight into the leader of the Hokkai werewolves. The wolf flew forwards, bouncing from the hood of my car into a shop, going straight through the plate glass window. Not enough to kill a werewolf, but enough to slow it down, for now.

The second werewolf took to its heels, racing off into the night, but the third stood its ground and snarled at me through my car window, daring me to step out. I did, brandishing my favorite handgun that I always kept in the glove box. The beast snarled, but then took a step back as a shaft of moonlight caught the cylinder of the gun, and the silver bullet within glistened.

I smiled and took aim.

The werewolf's legs seemed to spin on the spot for a minute, like when Scooby Doo started running, and then he took off after his friend like a streak of black, hairy, lightning.

I took a moment to feel smug, but no longer; chances were, he had gone to fetch some friends, and a groan from the shop window reminded me that we were still not alone.

"Get him into the car," I snapped at Hudson, who had been standing, staring, and was clearly impressed by what he had seen.

Now, he leaped into action, shifting back into human and gathering up his brother in his strong arms. I caught the sight of blood in the moonlight and the scent hit me moments later - I may have been only a part-wolf, but the smell of blood is keyed into my DNA at a very primal level.

Hudson laid Gray onto one of the back seats and got in beside him, while I leaped back in and fired up the engine.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

It was only once we were out of Hokkai territory that I spoke. "Any of them know who you are?"

Hudson shook his head. "I don't think so. They knew we were Kenai wolves, but not..."

"You sure?"

"No," Hudson admitted. "But I guess we'll know tomorrow."

"When the whole damn world comes crashing down?" I snapped. "Yeah, that will be a pretty good hint."

"Hey, this wasn't my idea," Hudson defended himself sharply. "And maybe you want to hear the whole story before you start laying into Gray."

Well, that was the sort of opening that a private investigator doesn't ignore. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me that whole story, then?"

Hudson looked away, down at his unconscious brother. "It's not my story to tell."

"And you aren't my responsibility to rescue. Unless you want me to dump you back in Hokkai land, I suggest you talk."

He shook his head. "I don't think you'd do that."

"Probably not, but I still want to know what happened tonight."

Hudson nodded. "Can we get him home, first?"

I glanced in my mirror to see the face of Kenai Hudson as he looked down at his brother. It was hard to square that face, so filled with fear and love, with the stories of the rampant party animal who thought with his dick and cared about nothing and no one beyond his own pleasure. One look at that face told me that there was at least one other thing that Hudson cared about, and that thing was bleeding on the back seat of my car.

"We're going to need a doctor," I said. "Do you know anyone we can trust?"

Hudson nodded and reached for his phone. "I'll have him meet us at Heir’s House. I believe you know the way?"

I caught the hint of a grin on his face as he referred to my one-nighter with his brother, but it was masking his worry. Hudson was one of those who would be making jokes on his own deathbed, desperately trying to use humor to distract from horror. Right now, I thought he was doing it more for his own benefit than anyone else's. You didn't need to be a medical expert to see that Gray was badly wounded. The thought of losing his brother was more than Hudson could stand to consider, and so he made his jokes, and I was happy enough to let him.

Truth be told, the thought of Gray dying upset me more than I would have expected, as well. Why did I care? I barely knew him. But there it was.

Inexplicably, irrationally, unwillingly, I cared.

And that was bad. Very bad.

“Let’s go.”