Chapter Two

Clayborne

"Are you sure it's not stolen?" It was the fifth time the car lot manager asked me the same question, and I had to give him credit; he had the decency to whisper it.

And, once again, I told him it wasn't. "It's not stolen. You can look up the VIN. I have my ID. If you're not interested, I can go to the next block."

I didn't blame him for being suspicious though. I would be too if someone was trading in a six-digit car for what most people would consider a junker. Fine, it wasn't exactly a junker, but it was over a decade old and had a few dents. It was hardly the pick of the lot. Only for me, it was. I needed a vehicle to get me all the way to the desert but not be flashy like my other cars. If I wanted to blend in, I needed a car that didn't shout wealth, and this was that.

"You just want to trade this for a fifteen-year-old Honda and walk away with no cash. Am I getting that correct?"

"You are."

"And you don't see why I think this is weird?"

"Listen, I'm gonna be frank with you. This is between us, but I need to go undercover for a little while."

I didn't. I was just starting over in a new place where no one knew me, but he didn't need to know that. From the vibe I was getting from him and the show playing in the background of the waiting room, he was into secrets, crime, and adventures.

My excuse would be just up his alley and maybe help facilitate this process. The last two lots I went to took one look at my car and told me to go to a specialty dealer. And if I had been looking for a fancy car, that would've worked. But I wasn't, and I suspected this might be my last chance at swapping out.

Could I just buy a car? Sure. But then I would still need to deal with what to do with this one. I'd already cleared out the rest of my cars, and the faster I could get this done, the better.

"Undercover?" His eyes lit up.

"Yeah. Have you ever seen that show where the bosses go to work at their own businesses?"

He nodded. "Gotcha."

He didn't because that had been my segue into a more complicated excuse. This was better. Easier.

"Let's get this paperwork taken care of. An even trade…you're sure? I don't want you coming back later all pissy at me."

"I won't, and I'm absolutely sure." I didn't want to deal with finding someone who had the money to pay for this vehicle or deal with the red tape of selling to a high-end place. I just wanted out of this town.

An hour and a half later, I was driving out of the lot in my brand-new-to-me Honda and to my parking garage. And when I said my parking garage, I meant, I owned it. I owned the entire building.

Up to my penthouse I went. I'd packed a bunch of things that I was bringing with me, and, if I was going to leave today, I needed to get a move on. Even with the help of my assistant, it took a good couple of hours to get everything packed into the car. It turned into a game of Tetris, and I won, even able to see out the back window.

I was going to miss my penthouse. It was the first thing I had bought when I gained control of my trust fund. It felt like a big deal. My grandfather always said to invest in real estate, and I took him perhaps too literally.

That month had been a lot of firsts, and it was great. But, now that I was leaving, I just gave the building to my assistant, Dean. He'd worked for years and was the only person I could trust. And yes, just like the alphas who tried to get close to me and the people who were "my friends," he was in it for the money. But, unlike any of them, he never pretended not to be. He was always my assistant, always my employee, and he always treated me with respect. That was worth the largest severance package of his life, for sure.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, and I believed him.

Ever since my 21st birthday, when I got full control of my trust fund, he'd been by my side. I'd never say we were friends—we weren't—but he looked out for me, and I appreciated it.

"If you need anything, call, boss."

I hadn't been expecting that, and it had me wanting to hug the guy. Only Dean didn't hug. Not me and not anyone else.

"I will, I promise. And if you need anything…same. The taxes are all taken care of for the year, as is the insurance, but if something comes up, let me know." The place would earn him a solid profit from the get-go, but I wanted to give him the wiggle room he needed while he got his bearings.

He clapped my shoulder, the closest thing to affection he'd shown me in all these years, and we said goodbye.

I drove out of my parking garage, away from my multimillion-dollar penthouse, and toward the unknown. To a new place, a new city, someplace where I could just be Clay. And maybe, if I was lucky, I could find some friends who liked me for me.

I got a lead on a nightclub called Animals. It was a shifter-focused establishment and, while I might not be the fierce predatory shifter that usually fit in in shifter spaces, I was an adorable novelty and hoped that would be enough to get a job there. I mean, a sugar glider. What could be cuter? At least, that was the angle I planned to use.

Money wasn't an issue. I had more than I could spend in many lifetimes, but working around other shifters, ones who didn't know who I was? Yeah, that was the dream, and I crossed my fingers that Animals was going to be the place to make it come true.