Chapter 6 #2
“Did Hartman track down the SUV?” He juggled the takeout bag full of burritos and two large agua de jamaicas while I opened the back door.
“Oh, Mason’s looking into it, but I don’t expect him to find anything. Besides, what’s the point? We know who it is.” I switched on the lights and took my cup from him. I’d already downed half the delicious, sweetened hibiscus tea drink.
“The Org,” Ronan muttered.
“Exactly.”
He preceded me inside, gaze darting around like a trapped animal, which was what he probably felt like in here. It couldn’t be easy, coming into a place that had been a source of deep anguish for the last few years.
“Tell me more about the wolves we’re meeting,” he said. “I’ve seen them around, but I don’t know them personally.”
Since neither of us were in a hurry to get into Floyd’s office, we took a seat at a table in the barely lit dining area and chowed down on the egg, cheese, potato, and bacon—his with, mine without—burritos.
While we ate, I told him what I knew about Dylan and Esperanza and how Dylan had approached me with the idea to reopen Floyd’s bar.
“There’s no way I’m calling it Pallás Place, though,” I said. “We need a new name.”
“Definitely. I’ll look over the paperwork and get the LLC updated, things I should’ve done already.
Rory called a couple of days ago asking if we needed her signature to release the funds to the pack.
If a college kid neck-deep in studying is thinking about this stuff, I should’ve already dealt with it. ”
“How is she?”
“Better than I expected. She’s focused on a summer intern program, says she doesn’t have the time or energy to wallow in her trauma. Her words, not mine.”
“We’ll have to keep an eye on her,” I said. “Lots of family mental health check-ins.”
Ronan grinned at my use of the word family. “Yes, we will.”
“It’s been quite a year,” I said. “Feels like I’ve spent most of it pinned under a murderous-alpha-demon-grandpa-trailer-park-shaped boulder.”
“Some good things happened, too.” His smile enfolded me in warmth.
“Yes,” I replied softly. “I’m still sorry you have to deal with all this.”
“Don’t be.” He waved my concerns away with a flick of his hand. “Hartman’s already done a lot, actually. Handled Floyd’s death with the authorities, got the bank accounts sorted, and started the paperwork to have the house put into Rory’s name.”
“Really? I had no idea he’d done all that.”
“The pack has contacts in local, state, and federal government. He made a few phone calls and set things in motion. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a talent for running things. In his former life, he owned several businesses,” Ronan said.
“You should get his input on this place. Might as well use his expertise.”
“Good idea. I’ll pick his brain.” I dropped the last third of the huge breakfast burrito onto the paper wrapper and pushed it across the table for him to finish. “He loves talking to me. It’s his favorite thing ever.”
“Maybe you’re growing on him.” Ronan poured a full container of hot sauce onto the chunk of burrito. How the man had any intestinal lining left was a mystery to me. “Haven’t heard him call you Alpha Demon in over a week.”
“Probably because we’re becoming best friends. Can’t you just see us hanging at the mall, sipping lattes and shoe shopping?”
The burrito hit the paper, and Ronan snorted with laughter.
“I don’t buy shoes at the mall,” a booming voice said from the back doorway. “I order them from Mr. Park, a gentleman in Korea, who crafts them by hand.”
Ronan hadn’t shown even a hint of surprise at Mason’s appearance. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Stop sneaking around,” I snarled. “I hate when you do that.”
He strolled into the light. He was dressed casually again—sweatpants, black cotton T-shirt, athletic shoes. Yet another insanely expensive diving watch.
“Does this Korean gentleman craft your running shoes, too?” I asked. “They sell those at the mall.”
“Mr. Park only crafts dress shoes, and only by invitation. His grandson designs athletic shoes. There’s a two-year waiting list. The younger Mr. Park takes a plaster cast of each foot and sculpts the shoe according to your exact measurements, including your gait, height, and weight.
” He rolled his ankle, turning one of the shoes from side to side.
“They are masterpieces on par with any sculpture in the Louvre.”
“Whoa,” I said. “I thought I was bad with my Louboutin stilettos—which I no longer have because they burned in my trailer fire, and I can’t replace because I have a mobile home park that needs new gravel.” I scowled down at his feet. “How much do you spend on shoes?”
“More than the GDP of several small nations. I’m supporting entire financial infrastructures with only my clothing budget.” He looked down his nose at my sneakers. “DiscMart, I presume?”
“Shut up. I told you, I have to buy gravel.” I tucked my feet under the table and scowled at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you think you’re going to get anywhere with Bronwyn. She’s very down-to-earth, you know.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t talk about her.”
“I can talk about her all I want, Johnny Fancy Shoes.” I picked up my jamaica and swished the ice in my cup. “Has she said yes to a date yet? Huh?”
“I don’t care if you are my alpha, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to put my fancy shoe right up your—”
“Stop it.” Ronan’s shoulders were shaking so hard I thought he might fall out of the booth. “Both of you stop. I can’t breathe.”
I nudged his shin with my foot. “Quit laughing. I can’t figure out who you’re making fun of, Daddy Warbucks or me, and I don’t like it.”
“Both of you.” He wiped tears from his eyes. “He’s wearing Adidas, Betty. You can clearly see the logo. Do you believe everything he says?”
“It’s Mason.” I peered closer at his running shoe. Sure enough, there was the familiar logo—three bars. “He doesn’t tell jokes. He tells cruel truths. He lords around town with his fancy watches and flawless hair and overpriced clothes and makes the rest of us feel like peasants.”
“Hardly,” Mason said.
“Does Mr. Park really make your shoes?” I slid out of the booth and wagged my finger at him.
Mason started to pop off, likely with some sort of deadpan snark or a threat, when he suddenly straightened and grabbed his throat like he was choking.
Ronan stopped laughing.
The words flowed from my second-in-command in a tidal wave.
“Yes, but only my dress shoes. My athletic wear is selected by a personal stylist who keeps a list of my preferences. I spend much less than I implied, because I buy quality and the items last, some for a lifetime. Dressing well is important to me. I was ridiculed as a child because my family was poor and could barely afford food, much less fashionable clothing.”
“Whoa. You didn’t have to tell me all that, but I’m glad you did.” I gave the cup of jamaica another, less emphatic swish. “I feel like an ass now. I’m sorry.”
“What the everlasting hell?” Mason did a nervous wolf-shake, like a dog getting out of a swimming pool, then stormed up to my chair. “What did you do?”
I looked from Mason to Ronan and back again. “I asked a question, and you answered it. Why are you so angry?”
“Calm yourself, Hartman.” A growl underlay Ronan’s words. The message he was sending was calm, but firm. Back off, wolf.
Mason did another all-over shake. “I didn’t appreciate that, Alpha.”
“What are you talking about?” I looked from one to the other. “What just happened?”
Ronan scooted his chair next to mine and slid an arm around my shoulders. “You just gave your first alpha command. How fitting that it was to Hartman—and about shoes.” He laughed a little, hugged me close. “Guess your inner wolf is making itself known.”
“But I don’t have an inner wolf.”
“It would appear that you do.” Mason glared at me as he did yet another shake.
“Nope. Nuh-uh. There’s no room at the inn.” I patted my chest. “I’ve already got an earth witch and my grandfather’s demon in here. Sorry.”
“Not sure you get to choose,” Ronan said.
“Great, another batch of bullshit,” I muttered and slurped up the last of my drink.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had an alpha with your power.” Mason eyed me with something akin to fascination. “I let Floyd believe otherwise, but he never gave me an order I couldn’t break. Eventually, he figured that out. Hence the silver torture.”
“Same thing with Ronan.” I pumped the straw and shook the cup, trying to get one more drink. “You guys really dropped the ball. With your power, you should’ve taken him out ages ago.”
“Easy to say now, but we had no idea how deep his connections went,” Mason said.
“We still don’t. Pallás had his hands in some dark stuff—that cursed grimoire you procured for him represented one of his tamer deals.
It wasn’t until The Org sent me to investigate you that I found we had an even bigger threat. ”
“A bigger threat than me?” I pretended to clutch my non-existent pearls. “I’m appalled.”
“Don’t be. The Org still thinks you’re worse.”
“Hello? Alpha Betty?”
All three of us turned toward the voice. Esperanza Pacheco and Dylan Milano stepped through the back door, letting it close behind them.
“The door was unlocked, so Dylan and I…” She trailed off when she spotted Mason and Ronan. Her shoulders bowed and her head dipped, turned slightly to the side to reveal the smooth line of her throat.
“Hello, Alpha Betty. Second. Third.” Dylan sidled in front of her, a move that seemed natural to him.
“Hey, Dylan. Hey, Esperanza. Come on in.” I made a rolling motion with my hand. “We were finishing breakfast and an argument about shoes. You’re just in time.”
Esperanza lifted her chin a little. “Shoes?”
“Long story.” I turned to Mason. “Did you bring the demo tools?”
“Yes, Alpha,” he said politely, back to playing his role as compliant second-in-command. “They’re in my car. I’ll get them.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like some help, Second?” Dylan asked.