MetaDeprivation - 27. MetaPrompts 620: Cash (MW2)

“When were you going to tell me?” Colt asked nearly benevolently grandfatherly.

Prime took a deep breath, put the plate with a sandwich for his hardworking Meta on the nightstand – the desk was utterly cluttered – and sat down on Colt’s unmade bed. “I guess the numbers tell you now.”

Colt’s pen pointed at the screen of his laptop. Several printouts, a pocket calculator, his phone and a tablet were placed around it, all screaming: ‘Beware. Dangerous accountant hard at work.’ “If I were mischievous I’d say I didn’t know the Corps paid so well …”

“But you aren’t …”

“Especially after your discharge,” Colt discontinued undisturbed. “And in clean multiples of 5000’s.”

Prime winced.

“And in irregular intervals.”

Prime didn’t say anything.

Colt just looked into those big green eyes showing him a beautiful, green Voralpen valley with the first mist of fall. He nearly forgot where he was going with this. The muscle shirt and gym shorts with a hint of pine sweat added to the distraction, as did some grease on his elbows he had missed after quickly washing up. Of course, the wolves did the annual ‘inspection’ of their manly pick-up truck by themselves. The vision of Prime, Brian, CE, and Sam doing a ‘grease lightning’ act was nearly too much to stay soft. But he forced himself down by reminding himself of the night he worked through to organize Prime’s finances. After they had received the brokerage accounts from Prime’s father, Colt had been set to the task to handle their money aspects in the future.

What Colt had expected to be a rather mundane bookkeeping and banking task, had turned out to be a surprise worthy a novel. “So do I assume you did some ‘side jobs’ after your discharge?” he asked carefully. He tried to express ‘side jobs’ sleazily and dirty but failed. Even though some men might pay such handsome sums to get at Prime's ass.

Prime nodded.

“And I assume you don’t have any documents like salary statements. W-2’s or 1099’s?”

Prime shook his head.

“And your bank never asked where this money came from?”

Prime shook his head again.

“Well, they are used to the military, so maybe they don’t ask so many questions …”

Prime didn’t respond.

“So maybe I shouldn’t, either,” Colt concluded, noticing something was slightly off.

Prime exhaled with relief. But then his chest lifted as if he wanted to say something.

Colt waited patiently.

“Once I had met CE, I knew I would form a pack eventually. But I had no land, no rights, and little money. I needed to do something …”

“And who doesn’t need the services of a skilled marine alpha wolf …,” Colt added a bit snappy.

“There are people who look for us to do some unpleasant jobs …,” Prime confirmed.

Colt nodded. He got up and sat next to his Alpha. “I understand. I don’t disapprove.”

“Thanks,” Prime exhaled again. “Please, don’t tell the pack.”

“They don’t know?”

Prime shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure how CE would take it.”

Colt understood. CE was very black and white.

“Or Brian.”

Colt frowned. He would have thought their smart Beta would understand better until he made a connection in his head. “That’s why you were in Colorado when you found him in the woods.”

“An alpha of dubious reputation founded kind of a cult pack …

“… aren’t they all?” Colt challenged.

Prime ignored the interjection and continued. “He was skilled in attracting wolves from wealthy packs … and even more skilled in squeezing money out of them …”

“Wow.”

“Some of those wolf families and packs got very concerned. They couldn’t really challenge the alpha as on the surface everything was very much according to our laws …”

“… so they sent you. The fire brigade, police, and ambulance in one.”

“Yes. I observed the guy for several weeks …”

“Hesitant?”

“A bit.”

“And then?”

“He approached a woman … she rejected him, but he wanted her anyway …”

“So you played white knight and assassin in one,” Colt completed the thought with a sober voice.

“Yes. The families were very grateful, and they showed their gratefulness,” Prime concluded.

“Well, you made a little fortune.” Colt got up to show him a bank statement.

“The pack ne…”

Colt put his finger on Prime’s small strawberry-pink lips. “It’s okay. I’m fine with it. – I just need to arrange some stuff, in case certain people ask questions.”

“Thanks.”

Colt suddenly giggled.

“What?”

“And there I thought you are the guy who married me for money!”

Prime frowned with amusement.

“So it must be my looks,” Colt continued while shuffling the papers together.

“Of course, handsome,” Prime whispered.

“So, we do have an agreement though that your ninja times are over?”

“Yes. They were over when we spotted you in San Francisco. Now we need to make money the traditional way …”

Colt tilted his head. “I would assume we have different definitions of ‘traditional,’ but I agree. – However, that leads to another question.”

“Oh no!” Prime complained in protest.

Colt ignored it. “So, if you hadn’t had your ‘hit job’ in Boulder …”

“How do you know …”

Colt just pointed to the papers. He wasn’t a detective, but he could read ATM receipts. “… what I was saying, if you hadn’t been sent to Colorado for some bible-selling job,” Colt grinned, “you would have never met Brian.”

Prime nodded.

“You know that’s too much of a coincidence …”

“Yep.”

“You and CE. You and Brian. – Do you think Betsy is behind that as well?”

“I don’t think L… - I don’t think my contact works with a vampire Shaman,” Prime expressed his doubt … though his face started to doubt his own doubt.

“Great, we have a vampire-shaman-marine conspiracy here to form a pack. I mean what’s next? – Good, we’re going to Palm Springs for vacation … only old fat golf-playing men there …” Colt stated.

Prime nodded very affirmatively.

“I think I should get a shower now, I worked through all the night to clean up your mess,” Colt teased.

“Thanks.”

And Colt understood it was for more than cleaning the financial mess. But he also understood Prime had something up his sleeves for their trip to Palm Springs. That cunning ginger alpha ass.

The only thing that didn’t make any sense in this was that the entity that had paid Prime’s moonlighting work had the same nine-digit zip code as the company he had sent the DNA samples to.

Well, and the fact the wolf Prime had killed, had been a former USAF officer with the dashing looks of Liam Hemsworth and the open preference for men …