Chapter 9 Nova #2
I drew back my fist, muscle and bone snapping as I shifted just my arm and swung. The door groaned then splintered in half beneath the blow. I stepped through without hesitation.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” I called into the stale dark. No answer.
Walking through the threshold, I waited for a beat, trying to detect a hidden heartbeat, but there was nothing. “I’ll head back to the bedroom. You guys search the living room and kitchen for any clues as to where he’s gone.”
I didn't wait for their reply before I drifted down the narrow hall and went into the back bedroom. My first thought was that this place was a shit hole.
Sheets stiff with grime, cigarette burns dotting the carpet, a fist-sized hole punched through the closet door.
A shotgun leaned against the window like a half-baked threat.
The stench of repressed rage and bitter failure clung to the walls.
Everything about the space reeked of a man who thought his new wolf power would be his ticket out yet had no idea what to do with it.
I understood now why someone like this would risk life and limb, willing to do anything to claw his way out of a cycle of poverty and shame.
Looking around, I grabbed a few things and threw them on the bed. When I didn’t find anything useful, I tore apart the other stuff with no luck either. No calendar, no notebook, not a scrap of intel. Just a faint trace of failure and wasted opportunity.
Yanking open his dresser drawers, I tore through his clothes, searching for even a single clue as to where they could’ve gone. Something. Please, fucking anything.
Just as I threw the last shirt over my head, a sharp tink sounded.
I glanced inside the drawer and found a glass syringe that had rolled into the front corner.
Glass? What the hell was he doing with something like this?
It wasn’t like he could get sick or die from any human illnesses.
And who the hell still used glass syringes?
Every human medical facility I knew of worked with some form of plastic.
I carefully picked it up, noticing it was already used. A greenish sheen clung to the inside of the vial, which made me pause. Tilting it toward the light, I watched the tint shift and slide.
What was this tiny bit of substance in the body of the syringe? Poison, maybe? Or was this something Donnie was shooting up? Why the hell would he keep it hidden in his own home? Was this all he had left? Was that why he always seemed to need cash like Conrad said?
The questions stacked themselves higher and higher as I found myself deeper in this goose chase. Maybe Conrad would know.
Kicking my way through the mess, I headed back into the main room where everything had been turned over and ripped apart.
“I don’t really know what we’re looking for,” Conrad said, tearing into a cushion while Zeth rifled through papers on the table. “But I have to admit, I’m finding the destruction part enjoyable. I see why rage rooms are a thing.”
His voice edged with disdain and disbelief, Zeth didn’t look up as he replied. “You’re saying you’ve never raged out? I highly doubt a turned has never lost control, not even once.”
Conrad laughed, the sound pompous, mocking. “No, my dear Zeth—” the glare that earned him was sharp—“I’ve never broken something out of anger. Even the lowliest of things has value to someone. I prefer to capitalize on that value, not sully it.”
The conversation was steering into fight territory, so I stepped in, syringe in hand. “Do you know anything about this?” I asked, holding it up toward Conrad.
His eyes lit up when they landed on me, not the syringe.
He stepped closer, that penetrating emerald gaze searching my eyes, and my heart thumped louder.
When my wolf’s attention turned to him, her interest skyrocketed, and, for the first time in years, she took over my eyes for a blip of a second.
This excitement was something she hadn’t felt in a while.
Needing this moment to end, I quickly forced her back down and shoved the syringe closer to his face. “This. The substance inside. Do you know anything about it?”
At lightning speed, he plucked it from my hand and held it up to the light, studying the residue like it might whisper its secrets back.
Zeth slid in close, the simmering darkness of his voice just waiting to bring down his wrath. “Where did you find that?”
“In his dresser, under some clothes.” I shrugged, stepping backward to give Conrad some space as I talked with Zeth. “Everything else was junk.”
Zeth’s hand slid against the small of my back, deliberate and slow.
His head tipped closer, and that sweet almond and cherry scent wafted around me as his lips brushed just above my ear.
Low enough that only I could hear, he whispered, “Are you sure it’s wise to let him handle this?
What if he knows more than he’s letting on? ”
The question made sense, and it was something that any good second would ask discreetly, but my focus was on the heat of his breath ghosting over my skin and coiling down my neck. A shiver ran straight to my stomach, making it clench with want as my body betrayed me. My pulse kicked harder.
I can’t do this. He doesn’t feel that way. Put distance between us, now.
Stepping away from him before I lost myself to these lingering emotions, emotions I shouldn’t be having, I found myself in front of Conrad. Wrenching a breath past the fire in my chest, I gruffly demanded, “Well? Yes or no?”
Conrad shook his head. “Not off the top of my head. Though the color is… interesting. The use of glass tells me it’s either veterinary-grade or lab-made.” He shrugged and handed the syringe back like it was nothing.
This was getting into an area beyond my depth. Rubbing my chin, I thought about who would have an idea, and one person came to mind right away.
Snapping a picture of the syringe, I found his name and sent off the picture before pressing the call button and bringing it to my ear.
As it rang, both men moved to stand in front of me, one with a set of eager, tempting eyes, and the other with his arms crossed and a frown carved into his face like it was set in stone. All I knew was I didn't have time for any of that nonsense.
“Hello, Miss Rossey,” came a voice over the phone, jolting me from my troublesome thoughts.
“Rack?” I blinked, confused for only a second before my brother’s frustrated voice bled through in the background.
“Whatever she wants, tell her I’m busy.” He paused. “I’m making a masterpiece, the best invention yet, and I can’t be bothered. Tell her that. She’ll understand. She’s the semi-normal sister. The one who’ll at least kill me after I’m finished.”
Closing my eyes, I drew in a slow breath, reminding myself that he was, in fact, a genius who had built hundreds of inventions for the family. Plus, driving to Texas to stab him would be a colossal waste of time.
“It seems he’s busy at the moment, Miss Rossey,” Rack said smoothly.
My nose wrinkled at the sound of a man I considered an adopted brother calling me “Miss Rossey.” It sounded wrong. Made me feel old. Decrepit.
“Rack, quit it. I’ve known you since I was four. It’s weird as fuck for you to call me that.”
“Ma’am—”
My stomach lurched, and I held back my gag reflex. “Oh, fuck no. Dear god. That’s worse! So much worse!” Shaking my head, I tried to erase it from my memory.
In the background, Calix cackled. “Did you just call her ma’am? Who the fuck are you, some butler?” His laughter faded into giddy inspiration. “Oh, wait. A butler. I like that. You can be Alfred to my Bruce Wayne!”
There was a long pause before Calix shouted, “Ow! What the hell was that for? It’s a good idea!” Clipped steps echoed, then a door slammed in the background, and I wished I could see the disgust on Rack’s face at the thought of being my brother’s Alfred. That would be hilarious.
Rack spoke again, his dry voice coming out with a bit of heat. “I don’t think your brother is in the right state of mind for this conversation.”
I tried and failed to hold in my chuckle. “What the hell would he do without you?”
A long silence stretched before Rack delivered a truth bomb that shook me to my core. “One of you would be tasked with keeping him on track and focused.”
Cold dread curled through me, my body instinctually recoiling from the receiver. We knew better than to ever wish that job on anyone else. None of us could handle him the way Rack did. I silently thanked the stars for the role he played in this family.
Sensing my shift in thought, Rack steered the conversation back on course. Always the professional. “You’re calling about the item you sent a picture of?”
I looked down at the syringe still in my hand. “Yeah. Do you have any idea what it’s from? Is it something we produce?” It was nearly impossible that I wouldn’t already know, but I still had to ask.
“It’s definitely not ours. We don’t make injectables. Too close to drug production for the human government. We won’t know anything until we test the substance and break down its makeup.”
“Do you need me to ship this to you?”
“No. The last time your brother visited, he bought the vacant building in Whitefish and built a mini lab. Have your IT man Gil swab it and run some preliminary tests. By the time I get the results… he should be out of his… creative mode.”
Thinking back, I remembered Calix being the one to hire Gil. Damn double agent.
“Come on, Rack,” I called out playfully, “you know we call it his asshole hour.”
Rack’s parents had been good friends with ours, so when they died when he was thirteen, my parents took him in and raised him alongside us.
You would think some of our rowdiness would’ve rubbed off on him, but that never happened.
He was always a stickler for the rules and the “proper” way to do things.
When we all took over as bosses, he distanced himself, drawing lines of propriety we all hated, except for Ezra, who shrugged it off, saying if that was how he wanted it, she wouldn’t stop him.
Ezra, Calix, and Rack had been thick as thieves in high school, the three of them setting the tone of what to expect from the Syndicate children before Aniyah, Riot, and I got to those grades.
So, maybe she understood him better than the rest of us.
This time, Rack gave a low chuckle, and I smiled. Buried under all the formality, he was still the boy I had grown up with.
“Yes. He’ll be in a much better state to examine the results.” His voice shifted back to business. “I’ll send you the coordinates for the lab.”
“Don’t think I won’t have words with him about building a lab here without my knowledge or putting in one of his men and masking them as mine. But since it’s helping me now, I’ll keep it short.”
“That’s wise, Miss Rossey.” I rolled my eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s done this in all of his sisters' base locations.”
I took a deep sigh before firing back, “Thanks, Mr. Rack Marlo,” and hanging up. There was no getting through to that man! Maybe that was why he was with Calix. Birds of a feather and all that jazz.
“That dude’s weird,” Zeth muttered, shaking his head. I almost agreed, but I knew Rack had to have his reasons for being like that, and I wasn’t in a position to pry.
With answers on the way, I slid back into boss mode, turning to Zeth and handing him the syringe. “I’m sure you heard. Cal built a lab in town and apparently has someone in place who can run the tests. Get this to Gil and have him run the test. Tell him to send me and Rack the results ASAP.”
Zeth’s hand circled around the syringe, nodding at me before his eyes flicked to Conrad then back to me. “Why don’t we go together?”
I shook my head, pinning him with a look that said I needed him to follow along with what I’d ordered, not what he thought was best. Plus, the test had to be run immediately, and it would be faster if we split up. “Conrad and I will check the rest of the place, see if Donnie stashed any more.”
Turning to Conrad, I asked, “Can Zeth borrow your car? I promise he’ll return it.” Taking Zeth’s concern about the turned vampire to heart, I still wanted to grill Conrad, and letting him have access to his own car would make that harder. It only made sense to have Zeth borrow his.
Conrad studied us, his hand slowly going into his pocket.
His controlled features and sharp eyes gave nothing away.
My hands fisted as I started to wonder if I was going to need to demand his compliance—because I would if I needed to.
Being a boss, you always needed to be ready to flex your strength.
I just liked giving people the illusion that I could be nice about it.
He pulled out his keys, a large grin splitting across his face as he handed them over to Zeth. “Of course.” His deep green gaze settled on me. “Whatever I can do to help the Syndicate.”
Even as he said it, I felt it; he knew something was off, yet he still walked right into it, facing me with his head held high. There was something incredibly… admirable about that.
I really hoped I wouldn’t have to kill him. It would be a shame to get rid of those good looks, great body, and savvy business mind.