6. Chapter Six

Tuesday came, as it liked to do every week. Normally. I wasn't anxious to go in during the slowest days, but I was antsy to keep my eyes on everything going on. I couldn't shake that feeling.

I left my home and looked at the trees, wondering if someone was there now. It was unlikely, especially since Kick Shot was open. If anyone was trying to go around the building to the woods in the back, someone would let me know the moment it happened.

As I looked at my woods, I remembered the people who had come onto my property. They had been human and therefore out of the sight of my territory magic. If I hadn't caught their car in my parking lot, I wouldn't have known they were even there until I caught their scents, and by then, I would have had nothing on them. The license plate hadn't been helpful, but it had been something. I knew something to look out for, a type of car at least.

I started walking, taking extra care to catch any possible scent. The full moon was two nights ago, which made it even more unlikely someone was around.

When I reached Kick Shot, I walked in through the back and plastered a smile on my face. I waved silently at my employees as I made my way into the front. Tuesday was a small crowd, mostly my old regulars. They didn't come by on the busy nights as much anymore, but Kick Shot was still a quiet place for them to drink and hang out on the weekdays. Joey and his friend John were laughing over a game of pool. A server blew past me and placed two beers down on a table near them. John checked her out and I had to hold back a growl. He didn't say anything, and he didn't touch her, so I let it go and focused on Dirk behind the bar.

"How was the full moon?" I asked nonchalantly.

"The same as always," he answered, clearly not finding anything odd with my question. I always asked how the full moon went for him and Oliver.

I nodded silently, then sat down, looking over the bar again. I heard a glass placed on the bar top and turned to see a glass of water next to me.

"Thanks," I said, sipping it.

"No problem. Tuesdays are boring."

"Aren't they?" I sighed. "I should get upstairs and talk to Oliver. We didn't have our weekly meeting yesterday."

"He understands," Dirk said, chuckling. We didn't need to say why the meeting was skipped. I needed sleep and relaxation after a full moon. Now that I wasn't the lone bartender and owner, I skipped work the night after a full moon. Monday evening's weekly meeting was no exception.

"Still," I said, sighing. "I'll be back down here once I know everything is good for him."

"Do you want to help behind the bar tonight?" He actually gave me a smile. "You can. You just can't take the tips. You don't need ‘em."

"Ha ha. I'll think about it." I hit the countertop and got up, taking the water with me. As I walked up the stairs, my phone vibrated. I checked it before walking into Oliver's office.

Heath:Care to come over for dinner with the family tonight?

Jacky:I'll think about it. I was considering sticking around Kick Shot. Let me check on a few things and get back to you.

I put my phone away and gave Oliver's door two knocks.

"Come in," he called. I walked in but didn't say anything as I walked around his desk and looked at his screen. Oliver was too professional and awkward to be doing anything at work he shouldn't be.

"Working on the schedule? Do you need any help?"

"No, no," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I finished it yesterday, but a couple people have asked for certain days off and some switches, so I'm updating it to account for those."

I nodded and went to my seat. "So, how was yesterday without me? Anything I need to look at?"

"Kick Shot won't fall apart because you missed one weekly meeting. I swear on it," he said, smiling at me around his computer monitor.

"How was your weekend, otherwise?"

"Uneventful. You know me. I'm not Dirk. I don't…know anyone here and don't really think I want to." He wrinkled his nose, then shook his head. "I'm finally getting a car, I think. Tired of Dirk needing to drive me around. He's really nice about it, and I help with petrol, of course, but everyone in America needs a car. I'm still not used to it. I used to bike or use public transit in London to get anywhere I needed to be."

"Yeah, living in the country does make it hard to get around without a car," I agreed. "If you want help looking, I'm more than willing to take you. Hell, I'll cosign a loan with you if you need it. You're responsible enough."

"Ah, I was just going to buy something used for cash," he replied, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. "I don't need something brand new and big like my roommate. Something like your little hatchback is perfect for me, really."

"Are you sure?" I didn't want him in something that was just going to break down in a year or give him problems.

"I might take you up on the offer to go car shopping with me, but that's it," he said, smiling. "Okay? Does that make you happy?"

"Perfectly," I said, smiling back. "I mean, you're not getting a used car just so you can dump it easily when you leave, right?"

"Leave?" Frowning, Oliver's youthful face got wrinkles he shouldn't have for at least two more decades. "I don't plan on leaving. It's my first car. If I wreck it, it won't be expensive to deal with."

I laughed and remembered there was a conversation I had avoided for over a week. I never did ask Dirk about when he wanted to go home to Niko.

"What's wrong?" Oliver was still watching me.

"You don't plan on leaving?" I asked softly. "At all?"

"Why would I?" He shook his head. "Why go back to living in London, where I would have to either work with my family or find a job outside your family? I like working here. I'm confident in what I can do for Kick Shot, and you trust me with it. It's more than London could ever give me."

"You've definitely become a lot more mellow in the last year," I said, trying for a smile again.

"Have I?" He smiled, a blush creeping up. "I was frantic when I came to Texas, wasn't I?"

I put two fingers close together and laughed as his blush deepened.

"You're a great manager, Oliver. I asked about you leaving because I need to talk to Dirk about something. Maybe you can give me some insight because you live with him." I put my hands together and sighed. "Do you think he wants to go back to Germany?"

"He hasn't said anything to me about that," Oliver replied, shrugging.

"Not at all? Don't worry about it," I said quickly, trying to stop the conversation before it went too far.

Oliver gave me a confused look as I stood.

"Are you sure?" he asked, watching me back away.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "It's not anything you can help with, I promise. Text me when you want to go car shopping."

He nodded, then went back to work. I left the office, frowning.

Do I have to send Dirk back? Does he want to go? Is Niko going to push this?

I didn't have any answers, so I headed back downstairs. I couldn't pull Dirk away from the bar at that moment, so I took a seat where I could see the entire space. He hovered close, tsking after a moment.

"What?" I asked him, huffing.

"You didn't bring the glass back down. I'm going to have to send someone up to get it later." He put another water next to me, shaking his head. "Lazy."

"Wow, you're going to call me lazy? You do remember I ran this place by myself for several years, right?"

He shrugged at my retort.

"You are so mean to me," I muttered, shaking my head.

"And you hover," he replied. "But you know, we make the best with what we have."

I glared at him but couldn't bring myself to get truly angry, probably because the comment was actually kind of funny.

"We're never going to get along, are we?" I asked. The question seemed to startle him and forced him to put down the glass in his hand.

"I thought we were?" he said with obvious confusion.

I opened and closed my mouth, now startled myself. "This is how you talk to people you like?"

"This is how I talk to everyone," he corrected. "You hover, and I don't like it, but that doesn't mean I don't like you. I love working here. Texas is nice. It's giving me the chance to practice all the things Niko taught me, like talking like an American. That's fun. I'll be able to use it one day, unlike French. I don't care for French."

"How many languages do you speak fluently?" I asked curiously. More than curious—intrigued. Dirk was an enigma with a complicated upbringing, wrapped in the attitude of a cranky mid-twenty-year-old man.

"Four," he answered quickly. "I'm also passable in two others. German, my first language, English and French, tying for second. I also speak Welsh fluently, and I'm passable in Arabic and Zulu."

"That's a wide range of languages for someone your age. Let me guess, Arabic and Zulu are thanks to—"

"Niko wanted me to make a good impression," he said, cutting me off with an annoyed expression. "And I speak all of them as if I'm a native except for the last two. I'm more of a tourist with those, definitely not native, but…"

"Passable," I said, nodding. "That's really interesting. Why didn't you go to college? You're obviously a lot smarter than I am, and I got into medical school."

"You had to have learned languages," he said, staring at me as if I was pulling his leg.

"I went through the courses and survived them," I replied with a chuckle. "But they never stuck. Over the years, I've lost them. I'm teaching myself Spanish now. And don't avoid the question. Why didn't you go to college?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" He poured two beers and put them on the bar. One of the servers came by and picked them up while we sat in silence.

"I can if you want me to," I said softly. We stared at each other until he sighed.

"When I was at the age to go, I was tired of trying to be perfect for him," Dirk answered softly. "I got a job and just wanted to get out and be my own person. Never looked back. He's never really forgiven me for it. He might not admit it, but he had a plan for me. He wanted…a son."

Ah, shit. Niko, you've loaded this man up with so many expectations, you chased him away.

"Thanks for sharing that," I said, swallowing. "Look, if you want to be a bartender for the rest of your life, I'm not going to stop you. I was just curious. No judgment from me. Be whatever you want, just come to work on time."

He nodded, giving me the strangest look. "Thank you."

"No problem. I get it. I wanted to be a bartender for the rest of my life, too." I smirked and finally got a chuckle out of him again.

"That's a very long time to be a bartender."

"Isn't it?"

Well, it's not the ‘go back to Germany conversation' we need to have, but it's something.

Not long after Dirk and I entered in companionable silence, an interesting pair walked into the bar. Their navy blue suits stuck out. I knew that color, but the reason for seeing them here at Kick Shot eluded me. There was no reason for them to be here.

I stood slowly as the pair looked around. Some people glanced their way, but most of the bar's patrons continued on with what they were doing.

Then they looked at me as I stood for their inspection, not trying to rush them. I met the dark brown eyes of a stern man matching Dirk's description. He reached down and revealed his sidearm as he pulled out his badge and flashed it.

"Jacky Leon, I'm Special Agent Collins with the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs. This is my partner, Special Agent Miller."

You could hear a pin drop in the bar. In the corner of my eye, I saw how tense Dirk was, unable to stop staring at these agents.

Every country had a department that handled supernaturals in some way or another. In the United States, a new department had been created, the BSA. A quiet organization, they really only dealt with the werewolves and the small occurrences of fae or witches being outed.

"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked, trying to be respectful. My last and only run-in with this organization hadn't gone well.

"We need to speak to you, preferably privately," Special Agent Miller said, looking around the room again.

"Oh, is the big bad BSA coming after our werewolf?" Joey laughed across the room. "I always knew you were one. Not sure why you denied it." A few people laughed.

"Yeah, you even hang out with that werewolf from Dallas. It's fine, though. You know we don't care," John added, laughing with his buddy.

I wanted, for a split second, to kill those idiots, a vicious instinct rooted in self-preservation. At that exact moment, my eyes probably flashed gold, but some things were truly uncontrollable. The rush of the feeling came so fast, I was hopeless to stop it from presenting itself for just a single second.

"You can talk to me in my office upstairs. Please follow me," I said softly, trying to reclaim my calm. "Dirk, do you need anything?"

"No, boss, I'm good," he said, visibly relaxing. "I've got things down here."

I patted the bar and started walking, letting the agents decide if they wanted to follow me. My gut told me this was bad. My instincts screamed for me to stop this meeting, but I had no reason to. There were rules against guns in Kick Shot and on the property, but that was because I served alcohol. I didn't need some idiot getting drunk and deciding to shoot someone. I couldn't throw out two government agents for having their required sidearms, no matter how much I wanted to.

The walk was quiet, and since I was leading, I could barely catch their scents. I didn't know yet how they were feeling through that needed sense. I didn't know what they were thinking because they offered no other indicator. Up the backstairs, the only sound I could register was my own heartbeat, pounding like a drum leading up to some event. I knocked on Oliver's office, then ducked my head in without waiting for a response.

"I have a meeting. Dirk will explain," I told my manager, then quickly shut the door before the agents drew close enough to look inside. I didn't even give myself time to make sure Oliver registered what I had said. I just had to trust he had listened at that moment.

When we made it to my office, I held the door open for them to enter with one hand while gesturing at the seats in front of my desk.

"Have a seat," I said softly, then closed the door as they sat down. I walked around my desk and sat down, putting my hands on the desk, and looked between them. Special Agent Collins had dark eyes that reminded me of Zuri and Jabari. Their eyes were also that dark brown, so close to black, especially when they were in a mood. For Jabari, that was common. Zuri's eyes tended to lighten up more than they darkened.

That's it. He has Jabari's eyes. He's calculating, a warrior looking over an opponent. That's why I'm getting this vibe.

Special Agent Miller was physically tense but didn't feel as threatening. His brown hair was boyish in cut and style, and he seemed fifteen or twenty years younger than his leading partner. It was a startling contrast to Special Agent Collins' crisp, military fade.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" I asked simply. I could smell them now, closed in my office. Their scents couldn't escape, and the air wasn't on. Everything they felt would expose them and give me an idea how to handle this.

"That is a somewhat complicated question, Miss Leon," Collins said, leaning back in his seat. "First, I need to explain some things. We're Special Agents of the BSA, not the lower ranking agents you've met before. We handle…particular circumstances."

I didn't say anything when he paused. I wanted him to keep talking because the more he had to talk, the less I needed to. I wanted to reduce the chance of giving away something about myself. It was the best I could hope for in this situation. I had done it before with the BSA's visit about Carey last summer and was confident I could do it again.

While the pause continued, I came to the decision this had to be about Heath and Carey. I didn't know if they were trying to take her away or get Heath in trouble for something, but I was confident this was about my Everson family. I had to be careful if I wanted to fully protect them. Heath followed me to the other side of the world for my family. Dealing with these BSA visits was the least I could do for him and Carey.

Finally, the special agents realized I wasn't going to say anything.

"We handle first contact," Miller finally snapped, annoyance thick in his scent, probably impatient with my refusal to speak.

The words snapped like a whip and sent me into panic mode.