Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Black Cargo Pants stepped forward as Flannel began grabbing all my stuff off the ground.
She tucked most of it back into my satchel and then looked at the two wolves trying to fade into the shadows.
Without speaking, Flannel opened her hand and twitched her fingers. Neither wolf moved, gone still again.
Then Six Foot Yogurt Stealer dug in his pocket and pulled out the yogurt card, handing it over and glancing at Nosy Wolf, who pulled out the gift card. Examining the two, she shook her head. “Real mature, guys.”
The wolves cringed, and I realized with some glee the only wolves Dieter could get to his side were lame. They still would have murdered me like it was nothing, but clearly they were not the pack’s A-team.
Black Cargo Pants pulled out a knife that was black, sharp, and deadly. I was seeing a theme with her. She cut the ropes binding me to the arms of the chair, then moved on to my legs, and the ropes around my chest. Standing, she looked down at me as she re-sheathed her knife.
“Can you stand?” she asked.
I curled my arm over my stomach and felt the roar of agony return.
“Probably not,” I said.
Bending, she got my free arm over her shoulders and lifted me up, keeping me steady as I managed a few steps. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, and by the time I reached the office, I was mostly under my own power.
The office was decently sized, and Malik was leaning against the desk, watching as Dieter paced in front of him.
“—and you know he did it! Why else would he be sniffing around pack business? They’re going to think you’re too weak to take care of your own pack,” Dieter snarled.
“You’ve made it clear what you think,” Malik said, voice icy. “And now you’ve caught him. So you’re done.”
“I should stay,” Dieter said.
Malik raised an eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry, are you suggesting I’m not safe with Tara and Celia both here?”
“I’m the pack’s muscle,” Dieter said, pulling his eyebrows down.
Staring at him, Malik said, “Put him on the couch and get him some ice and splints.”
Black Cargo Pants helped me over to the couch, lowering me carefully.
She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and looked at Dieter with narrowed eyes, before stalking out.
Flannel came in and dropped my bag on the desk next to Malik.
Then she leaned against the door, arms crossed.
Her nose twitched, but other than that, she was still.
“You’re excused, Dieter,” Malik said. He tilted his head towards the door.
Huffing, Dieter slammed his open palm against the doorframe above Flannel’s head as he left. She didn’t even flinch, turning a raised eyebrow to Malik.
“I know,” he said, sighing. “I know, okay? Go make sure he and his boys don’t hang around.”
Flannel opened her mouth, her eyes cutting to me, then back to Malik.
He shook his head. “Not you, too. I’ll be fine. Parker and I go way back.”
Nodding, Flannel swept out of the room with all the noise of a ghost. Malik turned to me, his gaze assessing.
“Dieter got you good, huh?” he asked. “Parker Ferro. It’s been a long time.”
I nodded. “When was the last time? That summer camp for foster kids when we were seventeen?”
“Sounds about right,” he said. “Thanks, Tara.”
Black Cargo Pants—Tara—arrived with two ice packs and some gauze.
“He’ll need a doctor,” she judged, efficiently wrapping my fingers with a small popsicle stick. I tried not to scream at the fresh pain, but only muffled the sound. “If we aren’t going to kill him.”
My eyes widened, and I made another muffled sound. Malik tilted his head, examining me.
“We’re probably not killing him,” Malik said. “I’m good. Close the door behind you. Go help Celia with security.”
“Sure, boss.” The door shut behind her with a definitive click. I leaned back into the soft couch cushions and regretted it, as my stomach started to ache again, even with the ice pack Tara had provided.
“Parker Ferro.” Malik walked around the desk to a small refrigerator tucked against the wall. He pulled out two waters and offered one over to me. I held up my injured hand, and he opened the top before handing it over.
Accepting it, I brought it to my lips and drank long swallows of cold water that felt like heaven. When the bottle was almost empty, I sighed. Already feeling better, I met Malik’s eyes.
“Thanks,” I said.
“What am I going to do with you, Parker?”
“I didn’t kill Nate.” My words rushed on top of each other. “You have to believe me, Malik. I didn’t even know he was dead until last night.”
“Why were you following Dieter, then?” Malik asked.
“For a case,” I hedged. An idea came to me, and I tested it out. “I can’t tell you the details, but one of his clients has a hillside mom who wasn’t happy her son was getting pack drugs.”
Malik uncapped the second bottle and offered it over. I finished mine and tossed it towards the trash, missing the can. With my now-free hand, I accepted the bottle.
“And?” Malik said. “Why did she want pictures of Dieter? Were you going to tip off the cops?”
“She wanted proof of what was going on so she could shove her kid into rehab. Dad didn’t believe it.
She wanted to have photos to give to their neighborhood security company so they could keep him out.
Neither one of them wants the cops involved.
You know how hillside parents are.” I let the implication sit between us.
Rich, entitled hillside parents didn’t let their kids get arrested.
They sent them off to rehab as many times as it took until the kid was old enough to be out from under their parents’ thumbs.
“You’re going to delete those pictures,” Malik said. “You know I can’t have anyone knowing pack business.”
“Fine,” I said. “But you should know. That wasn’t why Dieter went after me. He wasn’t pissed I photographed his deals.”
Crossing his arms, Malik’s cheek bulged as he ran his tongue across his molars. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is he up to?”
“To me? It looked like an affair with someone in Five Dragons.” I pointed to my bag and Malik tossed it over to me. Catching it with my good hand, I cradled the bag to me and dug out my camera.
After I found the right photos, I offered over my camera. Malik stood and took it, his face inscrutable as he toggled through the photos.
“I thought you stayed out of pack business? How’d you know she was Five Dragons?”
“Her tattoos,” I guessed. It would make sense. The twisted scales tangled together were dragons. I’d taken them for an ouroboros, spanning across her rib cage and back, but as Malik squinted at the pictures, I realized my guess was right.
He made a thoughtful humming sound and set the camera on the desk. His eyes turned back to me and they were flickering, gold and brown as something inside him shifted. My eyes went to the door, but it remained shut as his betas kept guard for him.
“What are you going to do?” I asked him.
“See, I have a problem now.” Malik leaned back against the desk and tapped a finger on the edge. “Maybe you didn’t kill Nate, maybe you did. But Dieter is going to tell everyone in the pack he caught the killer. So I can’t just let you go.”
“You can’t kill me,” I breathed. “We go back, I was in your pack, Malik.”
It was the truth, but our past wasn’t enough to keep me safe.
We met when he was fourteen and I was twelve, and back then he was just another werewolf in the foster system, unwanted because they considered him dangerous.
They had kicked me to a state-run home because I’d accidentally set fire to my foster home—untrained magic and anger issues don’t mix.
He was there because no humans wanted werewolves, and back then the state denied all werewolf foster parents as a matter of course.
He was always one step ahead of the bigger boys, and even though he was only a kid, it was clear some day he was going to be an alpha. Every were-creature there was willing to let him be in charge, and even some humans wanted in on his little mini-pack. I wanted in on his little pack.
“Key word there is was,” Malik said. “See you left—”
“I got a foster placement. You even said it was better for me to go—”
Raising his palm, I automatically quieted. That was how he was. A mild correction and even I felt like a puppy with his tail between his legs.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t a good decision for you,” he said. “But you left your pack. You put yourself first, instead of us. That’s the difference between you and me. You look out for you. I look out for my pack.”
“Your pack isn’t going to be any safer if you kill me.
” I looked at him, trying to be as convincing as I could without dipping into my magic.
Malik would know if I did and then it would be bad news for my chances of limping out of here.
“Because I didn’t kill Nate. And whoever did is still out there. ”
“Killing you would be a lot easier for me,” Malik argued. “And later I could just say you were working for someone else.”
“How can I convince you none of this is my fault?”
Scratching between two of his locs, he said, “I’m not sure you can. I know you, after all. I know what you can do.”
The problem with Malik was he knew me before I got trained.
He knew me when my magic was a vicious tool, a shiv I had sharpened on the cruelty of a system that didn’t care about me at all.
If I’d stayed with him, I might have ended up worse than Dieter, because where Dieter was strong and dumb, I was cunning and my magic was always going to give me the advantage of manipulation.
Silence settled between us, broken by something metal being dropped on concrete out in the garage. Malik watched me, his eyes golden and assessing. I tried not to break his gaze.
“I can help you. The cops came to me about your dead werewolves.”