23. Mai

Chapter twenty-three

Mai

T he underground parking lot of Shaw Investigations was a cavernous space, the concrete walls echoing the soft purr of our SUV as Ryan skillfully maneuvered into a parking spot.

The space was lined with a variety of cars, some sleek and modern, others rugged and utilitarian, each one telling its own story of the people who worked above.

Surveillance cameras dotted the ceiling, their unblinking eyes a silent testament to the security measures in place. I noticed a keypad next to the elevator, requiring a code for access—a further layer of protection.

We walked to the elevator, its doors a gleaming metal that reflected our images back at us. I glanced at Ryan, noticing the way his eyes were constantly scanning the area. That was Ryan, always ready, always alert. Derek and Mason shared a look, an unspoken understanding passing between them. This was their world, one of secrets and shadows, and we were stepping into it.

The elevator itself was modern, the interior sleek and polished. A small security camera was nestled in the corner, and a panel of buttons glowed softly in the dim light. As the doors closed, sealing us in, I felt a thrill of anticipation. I'd finally get to see inside the inner workings of their top secret PI firm.

We went up in silence, the soft hum of the elevator the only sound. Ryan stood close to me, his hand brushing against me, sending a jolt through my entire body. Our bond was still so new, and it flared to life almost randomly at the moment. The image of Ryan lifting my skirt and fucking me right here sprang into my head. Ryan turned his head and looked at me, his eyes half-lidded, an expression of utmost smugness on his face. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

The elevator came to a stop with a gentle ding; the doors sliding open to reveal the firm's reception. Behind a long desk sat a young man with a sharp suit and sharper eyes. He assessed us with a quick, professional glance, his smile polite yet guarded.

"Good morning, Mr. Shaw," he said, his voice respectful and attentive. "Welcome back. You have a few messages waiting for you." He handed Mason a small stack of papers, his movements precise and efficient.

Mason nodded, taking the messages. "Thank you, Dean. Anything urgent?"

"No, sir. Everything is under control," Dean replied, his eyes briefly flickering to Ryan and me, before immediately looking at the floor.

Mason turned to us. "Dean, you already met my brother, but this is Mai Parker. They're our new Pack Alphas."

Dean inclined his head, his expression a mix of respect and curiosity. "It's an honor to meet you. Welcome to Shaw Investigations."

"Thank you, Dean. It's nice to be here."

As Dean pressed a button under his desk, I heard the soft click of a lock disengaging on the door behind him.

We walked through the door and down a corridor into an open office space. There were about ten people in here, all busy working away on their respective tasks. No one looked at us directly, but I caught more than one giving us the side-eye. I was never going to get used to this. Ryan took my hand; that's all he had to do to settle my thoughts. I wondered if he knew the power he had over me now. I braced for the panic that should come with that thought, but nothing happened.

Huh.

I actually loved the thought that he could do this to me. When the hell had that happened?

As we walked through the office, I studied the people here, curious to see who would work in a PI agency. There was a mix of men and women, their ages ranging from fresh-faced interns to seasoned veterans. One woman, with sleek black hair pulled back in a tight bun, was examining a series of photographs pinned to the wall. As we walked past, she straightened and inclined her head, before quietly murmuring, "Alpha Mai, Alpha Ryan, welcome."

Next to her, a young man was poring over multiple computer screens, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He stood up as we approached and turned to face us fully, his eyes down. "It's an honor to have you here, Alphas," he said, his voice steady despite the scent of his nervousness reaching me.

Further along, a man and a woman were having a low-voiced discussion over a cluttered desk. The man, tall with a weathered face and salt-and-pepper hair, gestured at a map spread out before them. The woman, younger and with an air of fierce determination, shook her head and pointed to the left-hand corner of the map.

Just past them, a lean, middle-aged man detached himself from a group huddled around a whiteboard.

"Alpha Mai, Alpha Ryan," he addressed us first, bowing his head slightly. Then, turning to Mason, he continued, "Mason, got a minute?"

Mason turned to him, a questioning look in his eyes. "Something urgent, Jeff?"

The man, Jeff, shook his head. "No, nothing pressing. Just wanted to run some findings by you, but it can wait."

"Alright, catch me after the meeting with Sam and Waylen," Mason replied, his voice steady and reassuring.

Jeff nodded, giving us a brief, polite smile before returning to his group, leaving us to continue our tour.

Ryan, walking beside me, let his gaze wander over the room. I could sense that he approved. "I haven't been in a while," he murmured to me, his deep voice barely above a whisper. "They've put in place a few changes since I was last here."

Mason, leading our small procession, glanced back with a hint of pride in his eyes. He was in his element here, the calm, composed commander amidst a sea of information and strategy. "We like to stay on top of things. Efficiency is key in our line of work," he said, rolling a tennis ball between his hands.

Finally, we reached Mason's office. The space was a perfect representation of him—organized, no-nonsense, yet with personal touches that spoke of a life beyond the job. He placed the tennis ball on the desk amongst neatly stacked papers, two computer screens, and small things he could fidget with dotted around the space. I saw three tennis balls, a fidget spinner, and a book hook with different colored skulls.

My eyes were drawn to a photo pinned to his corkboard, a candid shot of the Shaw brothers, arms slung over each other's shoulders, grinning widely. The image transported me back to a day six years ago, a memory so vivid it felt like yesterday.

It had been a warm summer afternoon, and the Shaws had come over. Things were getting bad under Oliver, and Ryan and Jem were just starting to plot their takeover. Ryan had brought his brothers over, and he and Jem had rustled up some cheap burgers and hot dogs to feed us all. We'd gone out to the small park behind our apartment. The sun had been high in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.

I remembered how teenage Ryan had manned the grill, proudly wearing a "Kiss the Cook" apron. I had so wanted to kiss him, had thought I could use his apron as an excuse if he was horrified, but I couldn't get the courage to do it. Instead, I just watched his face light up with a broad smile as he flipped burgers and hot dogs. Mason, Sam, and Derek had been messing about in a heated game of Frisbee, their competitive spirits on full display as they dove and leaped to outdo each other. Back then, Ryan had been quick to laugh, and I knew he loved to see his brothers having fun.

Jem had taken that photo after we'd all eaten. Ryan, Mason, Sam, and Derek, the Shaw brothers, arms around each other, their faces so young and carefree.

So much had changed in six years. They still looked alike, in the shape of their noses, and the set of their jaws, but now they were serious, dangerous predators. When one of the Shaw brothers looked at you, it pushed all the oxygen out of your lungs. Each of them could make you feel like you were the only thing in the whole world that interested them. They were focused, single-minded, and relentless.

Ryan leaned closer to me. "I'm proud of all of them. They've each built something important. Something that makes a difference."

Mason shrugged. "We do what we have to do, for the Pack, for our family."

"And we all try not to make a mess while doing it," Derek winked at me.

"Have you guys finished the tour yet? I'm getting lonely in here!" A voice called from the office across the hallway. I turned to see Sam poking his head around the door.

I laughed and walked into his office. It was the same size as Mason's, with a large desk littered with papers and three laptops, walls adorned with Star Wars posters, and a cozy area for private conversations.

Sitting in a brown leather chair in front of the desk with a laptop on his knees was Waylen Jones. He was just how I remembered him from school. Waylen looked up at me, his face breaking into a grin that was part playful, part mischievous. "Mai Parker, as I live and breathe."

He hadn't changed much since our school days—still skinny, his frame almost swallowed by the oversized black T-shirt he wore. His hazelnut hair was a tousled mess, as if he'd just run his hands through it, and lime-green owlish glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, magnifying his keen eyes.

He stood up and stretched, a series of pops emanating from his back. His movements were restless, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the side of his leg as if to an unheard beat .

"I see you've come to see the wizard behind the curtain," he said with a wry smile, pushing his glasses up.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Waylen, still trying to hack the world, one system at a time?"

"Always," he replied, his tone light but confident.

"You guys know each other?" Sam asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, Waylen sat behind me in math," I said, returning my focus to Sam. "He was a pain; he used to drive our teacher crazy with his constant questions."

"I prefer the term ‘intellectually curious'. And, I might add, those questions led me to where I am today."

"And that's him being modest," Mason interjected. "Waylen's the best hacker we've got. Probably the best in the state."

Waylen shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I just do what I do best—uncover secrets and unravel mysteries. It's all in a day's work."

Ryan gestured at Waylen's laptop. "Sam says you have something for us?"

Waylen's expression shifted, a mix of frustration and determination coloring his features. "I've been digging, but Ghost is a ghost in more than just name. It's like the freaking guy doesn't exist," he admitted, his hands moving constantly as he spoke. "Every time I get close to that fucker, it's like ‘poof' he disappears on me. I'm going to get him, though. No one outruns Waylen the Wizard."

"But you have found something?" asked Derek.

"Yeah, I've been going back through all the intel you guys collected. You remember Bradford Hayes? "

"The human drug dealer that me and Ryan ran down?"

"That's the one. According to your briefing, Bradford first put you onto the name of Ghost, and claimed that Ghost was working for Ronnie Bishop."

"Yeah, we know all this."

"Ah, but in your notes, you said that Bradford didn't know Ronnie's name. Called him Reggie Billet, and only once you mentioned Ronnie Bishop, did he confirm it."

Ryan nodded. "That's right."

"Which makes you think that he didn't really know Ronnie at all, and only heard the name tossed around once in a while, right?"

"You got a point in there somewhere, wizard boy?" Mason asked.

"I'm getting there," Waylen replied, bounding up and down on his feet.

"Bradford Hayes is human. He has a cousin, one Otto Hayes. Bradford and Otto are tight. They went to school together, they used to live together, they even co-own a pickup truck."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, Otto Hayes works for…" Waylen paused, with a big grin on his face. "Drum roll, please."

"Waylen, get on with it," ordered Sam.

"Ronnie Bishop. Otto has been working for Ronnie for the last five years. There is no way Bradford Hayes didn't know exactly who Ronnie was."

Ryan and Derek looked at each other.

"Hayes lied to us," said Derek.

"I knew that shithead got caught too easily. We need to pay Bradford another visit."