Chapter Twenty-Seven

As night approached, Heath was considering what to order for delivery to make sure he ate dinner when he got a call. Hoping it was good news, he lunged for his phone. However, seeing an unknown number wasn't the good omen he had hoped for. It was decidedly a bad omen.

Damn it. Please don't be the Portland Alpha, whatever that guy's name is. I don't need the problems right now.

"Heath Everson speaking. Who is this?" Heath demanded, not bothering to try hiding his own identity.

"Frank Moore. We spoke earlier. My clients want to speak to you against my counsel."

"I don't want to meet your clients. They'll either accept the money or they won't," Heath said with a huff as he sat down and stared at the ceiling in frustration.

"They are very uncomfortable with accepting money from a stranger, donation or not."

"That's their problem, not mine."

"They thought you might be wary, but they wanted me to say something…" There was some paper shuffling around on a desk, meaning Frank was still in the office. An unlikeable asshole like him was obviously at the office late instead of going home to an empty condo or house because he didn't have anyone to hook up with tonight. Heath saw it all the time. He'd had a phase similar some decades ago, much to his regret.

Maybe I'm judging him too harshly because I'm in a bad mood… Oh, well.

"Have you found it?" Heath snapped, tired of waiting after only a minute.

"Ah, uh…" Another thirty seconds passed. "There it is. They want me to say, word for word, ‘We already know why this donation is happening. We want to meet who is making the donation.'"

Heath sat up straight. His cover story was used by a lot of werewolves, but if these humans actually knew the cover story, they wouldn't care to speak to him. They would take the money. They knew more. They knew the real reason werewolves anonymously gave money when someone passed. They had to.

Fuck. They aren't involved with any supernaturals the BSA could catch, but they are involved with someone.

"I'll be willing to meet them, but only if it's convenient to where I'm staying." Heath needed to be able to get to the meeting spot and back without being in the open for too long.

"There's a café near my office that stays open late, not even a block away, if that's okay with you. I can tell them that you'll meet them there. I won't be at the meeting."

"Send me the address, and I'll be there shortly."

"I will, but let me see when they'll be available before you head out," Frank said. "I'll send the details."

With that, Heath hung up and waited for the text. It came through in less than a minute, but it only had the address he needed and the names of the two people he would be meeting, with the meeting time to be determined. He didn't like this, but he would go. He didn't receive a meeting time for another thirty minutes. He checked the clock and frowned at the late hour. It was already eight. They wanted to meet at nine. At night. Not in the morning. They wanted this meeting soon but probably weren't available at that exact moment.

He had one hour to get ready and started immediately.

Heath reached for his bag and pulled out his only line of defense. He'd carried it earlier but hadn't given it any thought because he was dealing with humans outside of the supernatural world. Now, he put on the holster and made sure his handgun was ready for anything. He had silver loaded, but he had magazines for both traditional ammunition and silver, so he could deal with whoever might give him any problems. He brought all of his ammunition, two magazines of each type.

He also texted Landon and Teagan, telling them each something different. For Landon, he explained that the humans were connected with the supernatural and wanted a meeting with him. He was going in armed and cautious, and Landon now knew the names of those he was supposed to meet just in case his son had to get involved. To Teagan, he ordered that the entire donation be frozen until he clarified some things with the families. It was a soft lie for the werewolf lawyer, who would see through it but not question the order or get nosy about what was happening. Last, he decided to send a text to Jabari, who didn't reply by the time Heath was walking out of his hotel room.

It was only a ten-minute walk to the café, and Heath approached it slowly, looking in every alley between the buildings and every lurking shadow between the streetlights. There was no one suspicious on the street, so Heath entered the café, redirecting his focus to those inside.

It was surprising, but he didn't let it change his demeanor. There weren't many, but he made note of all of them. There were only two humans, and Heath believed they were the ones he was meeting. However, he didn't go to their table yet, as they watched him moving through the café. When one opened his mouth to call for him, he held up a finger, and the human remained silent.

Heath ordered a coffee from the fae behind the counter. He watched the entire process closely.

"Totally normal black coffee," the fae said brightly with a smile. It wasn't a lie, and that was important. He knew the fae would understand the consequences of messing with anything he was going to drink.

I'm not going to drink it, but it's the principle of the matter.

He passed another couple in the café, intentionally sniffing as he passed. They were vampires. He recognized them for what they were when he was close enough. He'd known they had to be some type of supernatural, but it was good to confirm what type.

Finally, as he sat down, he had a good angle on the last group. Three werewolves in the corner behind the humans he was meeting. One was definitely the Portland Alpha. Heath ignored all the supernaturals, though. With all of them cataloged in his mind, he focused on the humans.

"You wanted to meet me. Why?" Heath paid attention to what he was smelling. They were both afraid. Very afraid, but he had a suspicion they didn't know who all was in the room. They were afraid of something, but it wasn't him, either. The fear in their scents was deep, saturated in a way that made him think it had been there for some time now. Not hours, not even days.

They've been afraid for weeks, if not months…

"I'm Ronny Stainton, Gerry Stainton's brother. This is Norman Lane." Gordon gestured to each of them, covering his fear rather well. Heath couldn't help but give credit to the man for how stable his hand was and how even his words were.

"I'm Marilyn's brother," he said, his voice shaky. Norman's fear was getting to him.

Heath said nothing as they stared at him until he felt like playing along.

"Alpha Heath Everson," he finally said, sighing. "Why did you want to speak to me?"

"Why did werewolves kill Gordon and Marilyn?" Gerry asked immediately, leaning close to whisper, probably believing no one else would hear him. "We don't work with werewolves. Why would they do that?"

"Gordon and Marilyn were killed by a bear while camping in Alaska," Heath said simply, knowing the humans couldn't smell the lie. He didn't care if the werewolves could smell his lie or if anyone knew he was lying. All supernaturals knew why the lie existed, and no amount of internal werewolf or other supernatural drama would cross that line if they wanted to enjoy the immortality they had for very long.

"Don't bullshit us, please. Supernaturals had to have killed them, but we don't understand why it was werewolves. We don't work with werewolves, Mister Everson."

"Alpha Everson," Heath corrected. Frank was a human who didn't work in the supernatural world. These two did. They would respect his position. He was curious now. Gordon and Marilyn were killed by something supernatural, but it was a random incident, and while unfortunate, that was all it was. It could have been a bear attack, and it was better to keep calling it that.

"Alpha Everson. I'm sorry," Gordon gave a somewhat unstable chuckle. "You have to understand?—"

"They were killed by a bear while camping in Alaska," Heath repeated.

"They couldn't have been!" Gordon snapped, hitting the table. It was fortunate that he was keeping his voice down, but he wasn't as in control as Heath initially credited him. If there were other humans in the café, this would have become a problem.

Heath leaned forward, not at all curious, but he knew he needed to give Gerry what he wanted. A chance to say whatever he wanted to say. Heath just needed to ask the right question, and it was an obvious one.

"Why? Tell me the entire truth about why you believe that. Don't leave anything out."

"Our families are financial consultants, accountants, and that sort among the…" Gerry's voice was as quiet a whisper as a human could do. "The hidden supernaturals. Gordon and Marilyn are in charge now since the retirement of our parents. They merged our family companies into one with their marriage. Well, there were some audits a few months ago…"

Oh, for fuck's sake. When will humans learn?

"They stole from clients, huh?" Heath aimlessly spun his coffee on the table slowly, fiddling with it because this was a song and dance he had seen before. He'd dealt with it a couple of times personally.

"Just skimmed a little off the top, you know? I mean, supernaturals are rich. Look at you, giving away hundreds of thousands without even blinking, without publicizing it or anything." Gerry said, making that face that implicated him in all of it. There was no guilt in his scent either, telling Heath more of the story than Gerry probably wanted him to know. Norman looked down and away, the shame and guilt rising up in his scent to match the fear, proof he was involved as well.

Heath pulled out his phone, letting Gerry's words linger while he texted Jabari again. He still had no response, but it was important to note this. The victims were involved with the supernatural and a very short explanation about how, but a Last Change werecat wasn't going to care about any of this. The victims were still in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"What are you doing?" Norman finally asked.

"Letting my lawyer know we should probably cancel the donation," Heath lied, but it was only a half-life. He was debating it now.

"No, no, please don't," Norman said desperately. "We need to pay back what we stole. We need that money. Gordon and Marilyn hid all the rest or spent it."

"And gave a lot of it to you two, which you then spent, so you need as much cash on hand to fix it, right?" Heath asked, smiling a little. "None of this is my problem. I was here to help a family through a difficult time. They were killed by a bear. It was tragic, but that's all. Whatever problems you have with your clients isn't something I can get involved in, and there is very little you can say to even get me to consider it."

"But—"

"Who did you steal from?" Heath was talking louder now. He had a problem with all of this now. He fucking hated this nonsense. They were two clearly well-off men. Working finances for the supernatural world was a great way to get rich. They were right about how much money many supernaturals had, invested in different ways, but supernaturals often weren't greedy for money. It was a necessity in some ways. Heath could be generous, like most werewolf Alphas. He wanted to see the young supernaturals around him educated. He wanted everyone housed, fed, and taken care of. He needed a lot of money to do that. He needed a lot of money to move all of them if things were too dangerous where the pack was located. He overpaid everyone, sometimes doubling the income other companies were willing to offer for similar positions.

That was just him as a werewolf Alpha, but these humans were working with the supernaturals who still hid from humanity. That made this much, much worse.

"Who did you steal from?" Heath asked again, leaning back.

"We can't… Why are you talking so loud?"

"Because you two are the only humans in the café," Heath answered simply. "There's really no one here to reveal secrets to."

Norman peed himself, and Heath didn't feel all too bad about it.

"Now, answer my question. Who did you steal from?" he asked again, now just asking for the other supernaturals in the room.

"The vampire nest here in Portland and a few fae businesses," Gerry said, looking around, sinking in his chair like he wanted to crawl under the table and die right there.

"Oh… You should hope the vampires get to you first," Heath said, shrugging one shoulder. "They're not allowed to keep you alive for longer than a week when you're in their custody. The fae have magic that can make that week seem… much longer. Or you'll just never be found again." Heath started to stand, but Gerry reached out.

"Wait. Can't you help us? Werewolves are out, and you can give us protection?—"

"I can't," Heath said simply, standing still as Gerry looked like he was going to faint as he grew more and more pale. He pulled his wrist out of the human's grasp with ease and checked to see if his sleeve was stained.

"Don't leave us here," he pleaded in a pitiful whisper.

With only a sliver of guilt, Heath had to be honest with himself and the men who realized their fates were sealed due to their own stupidity.

I can't save them. They'll have to deal with whatever punishment is handed to them. Maybe they won't be killed. They may be left destitute since they aren't the ones who directly did it. If I try to save them, I make enemies I don't need.

"Then leave. They probably won't kill you the moment I step out. The werewolves in the room aren't even here for you, and how you missed them is honestly surprising. One of them is the Alpha himself. His picture is all over the city. He's fairly well known. Now, the vampires and fae… They're probably here to see who you're meeting, but they're here for you. Not me."

"Why can't you help us? And please, tell us the truth about Gordon and Marilyn. Please. Werewolves only offer money to people who?—"

"Gordon and Marilyn died in a bear attack. I can't help you because I don't know you and can't defend your choices." Heath turned away, walking away without his untouched coffee.

He looked back once, seeing that Gerry and Norman were going to survive the night, leaving to get in a taxi together.

That was nice of the others. It's a good sign. They won't kill them. They all just want their money back, and they'll get it out of everything Gordon and Marilyn left behind.

Knowing that, Heath felt even less guilt about letting Gerry and Norman figure it out.

As he walked, he called Jabari.

"I assume you're calling to clarify whatever that text was about," Jabari said as someone else on the other end chuckled. It was feminine, and Heath couldn't immediately recognize it, so he could only deduce it was Aisha.

"I am. Tell Aisha hello for me."

"Aisha, Heath says hi." There was a response, but Heath couldn't discern the words well enough. "She says hi."

That wasn't all she said, but Heath wasn't going to pry. Jabari had threatened his own father for his mate.

"Now, get to it. They weren't bland humans with no connection. Their family was working with the vampires and fae and stole money from them."

"From the sound of it, the victims were in charge and probably were the masterminds of the scheme. They were caught a few months ago, and the siblings had benefited and are very concerned with their own fates. They're also convinced that Gordon and Marilyn were murdered."

As Heath walked and talked, he heard soft footsteps behind him, not quiet enough to be stealthy but not enough to seem like a threat coming for him.

"Damn bad timing, but it's not likely our… incident in Alaska has much to do with it. Oh well, I'll pass it along. I'll text?—"

"I'm not done," Heath said quickly, a little forced chuckle that he knew Jabari would pick up. "Go get your sister. I want to hear her thoughts on it."

He was still being followed as he made his first turn. A car drove by, and with it, a small whip of wind brought a scent to his nose. He was being followed by a werewolf.

"She'll say the same thing…" Jabari groaned. "Who's coming for you?"

"Killing me could make someone look very good to Callahan," Heath said softly. "Portland doesn't have a wolf that could do it, but I'm being followed. Not covertly. He's not trying to hide. They were in the café while I had a meeting, and so were some vampires and a fae behind the counter. The humans I was meeting were the only two in the room."

"Shit, everyone was being watched." Jabari was definitely grinding his teeth. "You should have said something about how going to Portland was dangerous for you. Oh, hey, Zuri."

"Aisha told me Heath had called," she said brightly, loud enough that she knew Heath was going to hear her. He was grateful for it. "Put it on speaker," she ordered.

"Why?" Jabari asked, but Heath figured out what she was saying. He put them on speakerphone.

"Now, future brother-in-law, why didn't you tell us that going to Portland for us was potentially dangerous for you?" she asked, continuing her bright and casual tone, but the edge was there. The footsteps stopped behind him.

"I'm not scared of anyone in Portland," he answered, chuckling.

"Well, of course not, but that doesn't mean you don't tell us about the potential. We're not trying to get you killed just to do a good deed," she chastised, but the condemning note in it wasn't for him. The werewolf behind him was walking away, the sound growing distant as it moved away from him.

"Thanks for that, Zuri," he said, letting some tension leave him. "I'm not in a place where I can handle the long-term problems I would have to deal with if I had to kill a wolf from this pack."

"I understand. Callahan would be furious if you took another city from the werewolves like what happened in Dallas."

"Exactly." As soon as he was done saying it, he froze, staring at the concrete sidewalk as he considered those words.

"Everson?" Jabari cut through it as Heath's stomach sank.

"Dallas," he said softly. "Odd occurrences at bad times…"

"Oh, no," Zuri said, then the sound of her heels running.

"What am I not understanding right now?" Jabari demanded to know. Heath looked around, grateful for the empty street, watching for anyone who may come by.

"Dallas was working on controlling werewolves to make an army. They could hide the scent of magic. This is going to sound like a wild conspiracy theory, but it works. The bear did kill them for the theft… and any magic that could be scented to indicate that would be hidden by whatever they're doing."

"That does sound insane," Jabari growled. "And Zuri clearly?—"

"Mother, listen to Heath," Zuri said quickly, running back in.

"I heard you, and I will listen to Heath," Subira said, her steps lighter than Zuri's. "Heath, continuing explaining. I heard what you just said to Jabari. Continue."

"Here's how my theory plays out. The deceased stole money from supernaturals, then went camping in Alaska for a good time. They were running. They were trying to hide. They would have been talked to by at least one party they stole from, and we supernaturals talk. We don't always like each other, but there are some things we talk about. So, they ran to Alaska. Maybe they were hoping it would die down and they could come back after it was forgotten. But we don't forget. Someone must have put out a hit on them.

"What better situation to test a controlled werecat to kill someone, just like a beginner mission for any bounty hunter or assassin? Jacky, Niko, and Davor would have no idea they're looking for witches. They wouldn't be able to smell the magic because of Dallas' experiments on using magic on my pack, a secret the Dallas witches sold to others." Heath ended in a snarl, unable to contain the rage that spiked whenever he thought about that. He'd lost a son to it.

"I don't think he's wrong," Zuri said, clearly not to Heath but to those in the room with her.

"Occam's Razor would disagree," Jabari muttered, but he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

"William of Ockham was wrong a lot, just like every other philosopher," Zuri hissed.

"They were right as much as they were wrong no matter what they said, but that's not the discussion," Subira countered. "Heath, you need to get home as quickly as possible. Don't give any of the parties there a reason to come for you. Thank you for this information. Stay safe, my son."

Heath blinked a few times, then decided not to question what she had just called him. He would unpack every feeling and thought he had in less than a second on a later day.

"Can one of you call Landon and give him an update while I get my things and get a flight?"

"I'll handle it," Jabari promised.

"Thank you. I'll be in touch."

"You better be," Subira said softly.