Death in the Shadows - 22. Chapter 22: Dangerous Druggies

The elevator bell rang as the doors lurched open and the pair stepped into the hallway. Cyrus was fuming, and Kaplan had never seen the bear in such a state. It wasn't this bad when Wagner revealed Harold's activity. "Alpha Von—"

"No." The answer to the unasked question was curt.

That irritated Kaplan. "As your beta, don't go in there with this attitude."

Both men stopped, and the ursus' irises glowed forest-green. "Give me a reason."

"You're Cyrus Vonder." When the powerful eyes squinted, Kaplan continued, "You can not go into the Chairman of the Coven in your state. This isn't the calm and collected businessman that runs the pack. You need that Cyrus Vonder when conversing with Mr. Tilliman."

The alpha was shaking. "He interfered with my delta's operation."

"And no one's done that to you before, I get it. We need to do this for Alex, so get your shit together."

Both men stared at each other in surprise. Did I just say that?

"Kaplan," Cyrus muttered, "thank you. I could have made a foolish mistake by letting my emotions drive me. But you're wrong. This isn't for Alex."

The lycan nodded. "The pack. Do you want me to start?"

The panda's eyes faded as he took a deep breath. A smile appeared on the man's face. "I would be insulted if you didn't."

There's my alpha. Gripping his briefcase, Kaplan led the way. When he spotted the nameplate on the wall, he entered without knocking. He inserted himself. We can do the same.

Tilliman looked up from taking a call. "I will call you." Setting the phone on the receiver, the vampire rose. "No appointment, no—"

Kaplan set his case on the desk, opened it, and plopped a thin case file unceremoniously. "You have three options, Mr. Tilliman. Cooperate with NYSP and Alpha Vonder's investigation into Harold Snyder, bench your Agent Weidman and get out of our way, or you and all involved will face obstruction charges. You and agents of your coven have overstepped the bounds of your jurisdiction. This is a shapeshifter matter, not a vampire one."

The older man looked impressed. He lackadaisically fingered the stack. "I must admit, I'm impressed by both of your tempers. You two make a theatrical pair."

"No theatrics here. Our man has infiltrated Snyder's trust while yours uses unexposed humans to follow along. A little unprofessional coming from NYCC, don't you think?"

Tilliman's brow twitched. There's the line. Kaplan was careful to ride it. Can't be too nice. That leaves them in control. Can't push too many buttons, or they won't share and leave. For now, I'm in control, and I have Cy to back me up if he tries to go over my head.

The chairman took the papers and set them aside, then opened a drawer and displayed a larger stack of his own. "This… is Harold's doing to my people. Vampire evictions from the last seven years and three months. Pardon me if you believe this is just your problem."

Kaplan knew the next move. "Then I propose a joint-investigation. Pool our resources and—"

"I think not, Beta." Procuring another, much slimmer pile, he held them out. "These are the shapeshifter evictions under the same time period. Less than a third of what my kind have put up with, all at the hands of your so-called businessman. Then I hear you are supporting this nonsense by offering funding for more property? NYSP is not fit to handle such an investigation."

Cyrus growled under his breath. "Yet you act out by approaching my undercover delta instead of coming to me? Once again; unprofessional."

"You're merely getting your feet wet, Alpha. We've only met once, and it was a formality."

"Mr. Tilliman," Kaplan said, "Alpha Vonder was hand-selected by both former Pack Alpha Scott, and was unanimously voted in by all members of the Executive Council. He spent several years as an accredited auditor and investigator for packs, tribes, and other organizations across the planet. I recommend considering his feet soaked."

From the corner of his vision, he saw Cyrus stepping closer to the vampire. "Now, now. If I may, I think the pissing contest has gone on long enough. May I?"

As the bear gestured to one of the chairs in front of Tilliman, the elder man nodded. Sitting down, Kaplan appreciated Cyrus' ploy. Funny. Good cop, bad cop. Although we're wearing each other's shoes, it's going well.

Cyrus crossed a leg, making himself comfortable. "Obviously, Harold Snyder is a problem. I would like to hear your solution. Mine was to have Alex Wagner, my former enforcer, infiltrate under the ruse as a disgruntled pack member. Thanks to his information, we've realized Harold is abusing MCIs and IAIs across the city, particularly the slums. Once we have confirmation of his true intentions, I will be satisfied with an arrest."

"True intention," grumbled Tilliman. "Would you like that now?"

"If you'd be so kind."

"Then the bastard will rot in a VPN prison, not yours."

Kaplan rolled his eyes. Like hell.

Cyrus giggled. "If he rots, he rots. Doesn't matter to me where it happens."

The reason came before Kaplan's verbal consternation. He never was one about credit. Tilliman seems to be, since he's desperate enough to ignore professionalism. Cyrus doesn't care, just so long Harold is off the streets. Another thought came to mind, but the beta dismissed it. Paperwork… Nah, Cy's not that lazy.

Tilliman and Cyrus relayed the finer points of their respective investigations. Kaplan had to give the vampires credit; they were invasive. Weidman's good. To work for Harold for over two years and go undetected is impressive. Phone and computer tapped, his complete schedule and habits down to a science. They're even working on inserting a call-girl into his ring.

The information they have is extensive. They only found the MCIs and the interest in the grant, but they have meeting notes, recordings, and videos. What concerned Kaplan was who the meetings were with. It confirms Rochter, but there's also a couple aides in the Housing Authority. Probably how he's gotten so far into the grant application process.

As Kaplan sifted through a few papers, he listened to the leaders' conversation carefully.

The vampire sighed, "I do admit, the information you provided is very useful, Alpha Vonder. And your man is closer to Snyder."

"Does this mean Alex has your blessing to continue?"

"Yes, and do give him my apologies. I look at his performance and behavior, and I must say it's impressive. I wouldn't suspect an ill-tempered bar bouncer, if I'm being honest. Just relay all his crucial findings to me, if you don't mind."

"Of course. Well, this has been enlightening," Cyrus remarked, "and I do appreciate the information, but it seems you teased me earlier. You mentioned Harold's intentions and goal with this project of his?"

Tilliman chuckled. "Impressive memory. We talked for… what, half an hour?"

The panda merely grinned, expecting the answer to his demand.

"Very well. Just remember our agreement, gentlemen."

***

The auditing process seemed straight forward. Is this really it? Just walk around, interview all members of the council and three random pack members? I get reviewing the finances and previous evals, but… "This can't be it."

RJ snorted and shook his head. "Should it be longer? More extensive?"

"I mean…" Reviewing the papers on the hotel room desk, Vincent spun in the chair. "Just the council and three interviews? Even if we're auditing for a pack like NYSP?"

"Yep. Granted, those audits take much longer because there's larger councils and more financials to look at. So, you think it should be different. How so?"

"Search for more random interviews, but focus on economical standings. It will give you a spread of responses."

The polar bear looked up from his laptop. "So, go from three to nine? Hit the wealthy, middle-class, then the poverty line."

"That's right."

"Your suggestion's solid."

Something was biting at Vincent since they met with Reardon. "Another thing. I'm saying this unbiased, but should you be performing the evaluation on Alpha Reardon?"

RJ seemed concerned, if not hurt. "What do you mean?"

"You and Frank were pretty close, as if you've audited him countless times."

"You think I might end up like Powell?"

Vincent nodded.

"And if I do?"

The mage could tell the man was messing with him. That confirms it for me. He's friendly, not a turncoat. "I know where the cells are in London."

Reclining into the stack of pillows on his bed, the gentle giant laughed heartily. "That's rich! I like your spunk, kid. You're right though; I shouldn't be evaluating Frank, but the hard truth is we'll still be short-staffed after you finish your testing."

The realization came to him. "I'm Powell's replacement."

"Bingo."

"And I just suggested making the job harder."

"Bah!" RJ grunted as rolled to his side. "I already said it was a solid suggestion. It'll be in my dossier I send to Marlo when I'm done training you. Now, what's the next idea to change the evaluations?"

"How often is a pack audited?"

"Randomly between six and twelve months."

"Why not make it a set twelve months? It'll give the auditors some wiggle room if we expand the interviews."

"Then we lose the element of surprise when it comes time for the next one."

"You don't have to advertise it."

The smirk on RJ's face made Vincent mimic it. "Now that's going in the dossier. Even if we don't add more interviews, it'll help out the workload. Just so you know, you're doing great so far."

The compliment made little sense. "I haven't done anything other than listen to you ask questions."

"It tells me you're a good listener. That's important. You need to hear what these shifters say. Some aren't able to tell you what they really mean. In my satchel, there's the complete report from Scott's investigation on Stuerm. Read it, and pay close attention to his remarks about Barrett Strasbaugh."

Obeying, Vincent spent half an hour reading before reaching the initial interview with Strasbaugh. Bear store owner. Had high prices, later to be revealed as part of Stuerm's taxes. Completing the section, he read it again. Strasbaugh couldn't tell Ty everything in the first meeting. The illegal enforcer was watching. "I get it."

"Explain it."

"Strasbaugh was coerced. If he blabbed, he or his family may have been hurt, financially or physically."

RJ grumbled. "You've seen bad alphas and criminals. Can you tell the difference?"

The mage's first instinct was to think about Keller Galby and their first encounter at the Electric Lemon in New York. He's not bad. Just a little brutal when it comes to his status and respect. Then there's Stuerm.

"I see your brain moving," RJ muttered, half-asleep. "It's imperative to see, then act upon those differences appropriately. If it seems wrong, it probably is. Your job's to tell whether an investigation is required. Aside from Stuerm's, the most recent pack to require one was over in South Dakota."

Vincent's attention was captured. "South Dakota? Oglala Lake County Pack?"

RJ squinted. "How do you know about that?"

"It's where Kaplan's from."

"Who?"

"Cyrus' mate."

The ursus was blown away. "No shit? Pandy got hitched? Thought I'd never see the day. You say the mate's from OLCP? That's fated, if I do say so."

"Fated? No, they're not destined."

"Fated, son." Sitting up, the bear groaned and grabbed his laptop. "Cyrus was the auditor on that evaluation. It quickly turned into an investigation after Scott went there months later and kicked the crap out of former Alpha Ren. It was discovered there were several unethical and illegal exiles, among other things. I take it this Kaplan was one of the exiled or abused?"

Vincent sighed. "I don't know the full details, but I know enough. I don't talk about the struggles of others like that."

"Smart man. Well, we've done enough tonight. Feel free to stay up and look at the reports, but I'm heading to bed. I'm assuming you're heading back to Owensboro?"

"Owensville," he corrected, "and yeah. But I think I'll take your advice and stay here tomorrow night. I need to get used to being away from Mace."

"Sounds good, but a warning. I snore."

Cleaning up the desk, Vincent laughed. "So does Mace. I think I'll manage."

"If you say so. Remember, nine in the morning for our meeting with the enforcer and the three cabinet members."

"Got it. Call if you need me." His world went gray as he fell into the shadows. With the world a blur, he sped home, eager to be in his mate's arms. I've been thinking about him all day. Maybe we'll have a repeat from last night. Slipping under the front door, he noticed Mason in the recliner playing a video game. Still hiding in the darkness, Vincent walked into the bedroom and stripped. Once naked, he laid out, then dissipated his magic.

He heard the game music pause. Mason walked in soon after, grinned, and set the controller on the dresser. "This going to be a thing? You come home and look like you're ready to be fucked?"

Stroking himself, Vincent hummed. "You'd do the same."

"No, I would come through the garage and yell, 'Honey, I'm home!' Then drag you here and blow you 'til you saw stars."

Laughing, he scooted over and patted the space next to him. "How was your day?"

Mason crawled onto the bed. The larger alpha's body heat was intense. "Same as yesterday. Paperwork at the farm, worked on the old tractor, and rode around on the golf cart. You?"

"About the same. Watched RJ do all the work while I either took notes or studied facial patterns. I think I like this job."

"I knew you would. It's just going to take getting used to not having you around as much. Kept thinking of you all day."

"Me, or my ass?"

Growling, Mason pressed against Vincent and cupped his backside. "Both."

The mage's mouth was attacked. He moaned as Mason's tongue flicked around inside. Oh, he wants it bad. In a flash, Mason rolled on top and spread Vincent's legs with his knees. Real bad.

The bigger lycan yanked his shirt off, showing the sculpted muscle Vincent adored. There was no ceremony. Mason sucked on the mating mark, driving him insane. "Mace," he panted.

Hot breath encompassed his ear. "Spent all day thinking of the things I'd do to you when you got home."

Vincent held the man's sides as Mason whispered every detail, each one forcing his cock to twitch in anticipation. Sex with his mate was never boring, even if he knew the man’s habits and tendencies in the sack. He’ll hover over me for a bit longer, suck my dick a bit, spend eternity eating me out, then even longer—

He yipped as he was flipped over onto his hands and knees. Startled by the sudden shift in schedule, Vincent grunted as the base of his shaft was fondled. It was pulled back, and he gasped as Mason licked it from behind. Th-that’s new! Rolling his eyes into the back of his head, the mage whimpered as the alpha’s tongue lapped.

It was the only variant, but it was appreciated before Mason prepped him. Gripping the sheets in anticipation, swayed his hips. “Now. Need you.”

With lube applied to both ends, he felt the love of his life’s dick enter slowly. Pushing back on it, Vincent relayed his wanting. Give it to me, big guy. I need you so bad. As their hips met, both men moaned. After a few slow pumps, Mason retreated, only to put Vincent on his back once more. His knees were shoved into the mattress, allowing Mason to let loose.

Seeing the man’s bottom lip tucked in, the abs flexing with every pump, and the soft, glowing irises in the dark room, Vincent couldn’t handle it all. “M-Mace. Gonna… I’m gonna—”

***

“Justin!”

Dirk curled his toes and grunted. Stars were bursting behind his eyelids as he blew his load. Clutching the pillow under his head, he struggled to find a ground. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! T-too good! Too damned good. The warm mouth around his stiff member was nicer than any vagina he ever played with. He struggled to catch his breath. “Jut-Just… Justin?”

The wetness around his cock slid off, cooling it immediately. Movement on the bed accompanied the lycan’s snickering. “Damn big boy, did I rock your world?”

“I… I can’t feel a gods-be-damned thing. You sure you never sucked a dick before?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m sure! Although, that wasn’t too bad. You and Vincent are right; shit’s powerful.” Ingle crawled closer to Dirk, resting his head on the bear’s bicep. He traced Dirk’s stomach. “Your virus came back nicely. Just needed to get some food on you. I can feel your abs underneath this padding.”

“It’s coming along. I’ll probably need to keep going to the gym for a week to burn the excess off faster.”

Ingle pouted. “I’m going to lose my pudgy teddy bear?”

Even a post-orgasmic glow couldn’t stop Dirk from laughing. “Don’t worry. There’s still going to be some there. Same with the moobs and ass.”

“Thank you, Dinbe. Don’t think I could’ve made it losing those,” Ingle remarked as he rubbed Dirk’s pecs in circles. “Never thought being with a guy would be so hot.”

Smacking the hands away, Dirk pulled the wolf in. It was everything he thought his mate would be. Perfect in every way. After learning the basics of giving a blowie and putting them to good use, he was completely comfortable being with a man. There wasn’t a sense of combating masculine insecurities with Ingle. He merely wanted to love his mate. I’m fine with giving him what he wants. I can tell he’s still working on things with his wolf, so the least I can do is be patient.

An alarm on Ingle’s phone went off. Both of them groaned. “Let’s call in again.”

Dirk rolled his eyes and hopped to the edge of the bed. “And watch our jobs get posted? Fuck that; I just got into town. Besides, we need to talk to Henry. He should know if both of his detectives practically got married.”

“I mean,” Ingle argued as he fumbled for the underwear on the floor, “does this town really need detectives?”

“Yes, because I like my pay. It’s a definite cut from being Head Enforcer, but the cost of living here’s so dirt-cheap. It’s either this, or I go beg Tierney for a job at Nini’s.”

The lycan shivered at the thought. “Love Morrine an’ everything, but I can’t do all that.”

As they descended the stairs in Ingle’s apartment, something crossed Dirk’s mind. “So, quick question. Which one of us is moving?”

“Easy. I am.”

Well, that was quick. “Been thinking about that for long?”

Snatching his keys from the counter-top, Ingle snorted. “You think I’m sticking around with these shared walls? Nah. At least you got some space between you and your neighbors. That, and your bed’s comfy as fuck.”

“Yep.”

“That’s it? Just a yep?”

“Hey, what can I say? Bears know comfy when they feel it.”

On the way to the station, they bickered about what furniture would be staying and going in Dirk’s house. Both agreed to keep all of Ingle’s new purchases, but the ursus put his foot down on his recliner. Damn the Seven if I don’t get to keep that thing. I just broke it in a month before leaving home. I don’t need the back warmers anymore, but the massage feature’s the tits! Come hell or high water, it’s staying in the living room.

When arriving, they saw several patrol cars zooming out of the lot. “That’s not good,” Dirk mumbled. They hurried inside and was met by Henry. “Chief?”

“Middleground and Bittle. Your meth house just blew up.”

Both shifters spun on their heels and darted to the vehicle lot. Explaining their relationship had to wait. With Ingle behind the wheel, Dirk didn’t worry about getting there late. He’s already got the lights and sirens going, and we’re still par—

The tires screeched, and the bear’s head whipped back against the headrest. Nevermind!

They said little on the way, and Dirk took notice. We’re working. This is how it should be. There was no camaradie or wise cracks. Arriving, they watched for a moment.

Two firetrucks were battling the blazes of the two story house. Part of its wall was blown to bits, damaging the next-door home. Dirk saw several uniforms taking statements from various people. They’re focusing on the neighbors and not the spectators. Good shit. He spotted Steve talking into a radio and ran to him. “Steve! What do we got?”

The fire marshal looked over his shoulder. “Just about the biggest drug-related explosion in the town’s history. We’re going to be putting her out for the next hour, I reckon. Won’t be able to go in for another two or three after. Neighbor was cut from flying glass, but that’s the only casualty so far.”

Ingle landed at Dirk’s side. “Stupid question, but anyone inside?”

“Can’t tell, but that paranoid guy across the street said he saw a car leave an hour ago. Dumbass probably left a burner on when he went to go get more juice or something.”

Dirk turned and squinted. He saw Mr. Sacra, and took off in his direction. The tall, skinny man was jumpy and obnoxious, but calmed once he saw the detectives approaching. “Mr. Sacra, you saw the home-owner leave?”

“Oh, yeah. He zipped outta there in a hurry. Oh, man! I knew they were doing something, I knew it. I told every one of them neighbors, and they just looked at me like I was crazy.”

The animated man was one of Dirk’s more memorable witnesses. “Do you recall the vehicle?”

“It was the old Mercury. Same one they’ve been messin’ with.”

‘97 Marquis. Something pricked his mind, causing him to look down the street. Dirk squinted.

There it sat. Son of a bitch, they’re just watching it. Dirk thanked Sacra for his time, then grabbed Ingle and walked in the opposite direction of the Mercury. “Old Marquis, sage color. Two males in the front seats behind us, one block away. Get the car and go around the block.”

“Block ‘em in? Got it.” Ingle walked inconspicuously to their car.

Another prick. Instinct… “Justin!”

The lycan gave him an incredulous stare, but the bear was serious. Not again. “Be careful.”

Ingle nodded with a smirk, then continued onward.

Dirk ran back to Steve. “You’ll likely have some unexploded car batteries in there.”

“Huh?”

“Meth heads have been buying lots of car batteries for supply. Tell your men to watch for any that haven’t blown up.”

Steve immediately relayed the information over the radio, giving Dirk a thumbs up.

Focusing on the task at hand, he casually noticed the Marquis still in place, and that a squad car was barricading the scene. When Ingle turns the corner, the vehicle will be trapped. Seeing a nearby uniform, he instructed the human to alert all police on-scene for suspicious activity.

From the edge of his vision, he saw Ingle park on the corner behind the Mercury. Go. He spun and walked in the middle of the street, going right for the car. The two men were twitchy, and clearly yelling at each other. Discussing. They’re going to make their move in three…

They stared at him once again. He saw the fear in their eyes. Two…

The driver’s arms were in motion, hidden by the dashboard. One…

Dirk started trotting. He unlatched his Glock and kept it ready. The car started, drove in reverse, crashing into the vehicle behind it. Ingle made his move and blocked the street.

Drawing his weapon at the driver, the bear shouted, “Hands on the wheel! I want to see them!”

The passenger door flung open and a sickly man bolted away from him. Dirk saw Ingle running for him, so he stayed on the driver. “Turn the car off, and let me see your hands!”

Sidestepping to get out of the car’s potential route, the delta kept the pistol trained. The guy behind the wheel looked like he was about to panic, so Dirk approached quickly and opened the door. His nose was blasted by the scent of chemicals and other acidic odors, but that wasn’t his concern.

There was a revolver in the passenger seat. The shaky man looked at Dirk, then the pistol, then Dirk again.

The bear growled. “Go for it, and you’re dead.”

The tweaker’s face scrunched as he slapped his hands on the steering wheel. Taking the opportunity, Dirk fished his cuffs out with one hand and clicked them on as another officer arrived with his weapon drawn. Yanking the man out, Dirk read him the charges and rights. Another uniform came and took over for the detective.

Ingle!

Dirk hustled around the Marquis, only to see his mate guiding the restrained passenger along the sidewalk. The human had a rough scrape along his cheek, but Dirk assumed it was from a takedown. Paying more attention to Ingle, the shifter was spotless. No scrapes, no blood… Hell, not even a scuff. Relieved, Dirk holstered his weapon and latched it. “Thank the Gods,” he whispered.