Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Webster Kent
Web stood behind the counter of his store, working on putting together his next order from his supplier in Spokane.
He didn’t pay much attention when the old Chevy two-door compact car pulled into a parking space and a driver got out, because the guy wore a uniform shirt for one of the smaller shipping carriers they frequently saw in this area.
He walked in with an electronic shipping scanner tablet in his hand.
“Can I help you?” Web asked.
“Yes, sir, I hope so.” The kid, because he couldn’t have been more than twenty, looked obviously confused. “I’m trying to find this address, but the GPS isn’t making any sense.” He showed Web his tablet.
Web immediately recognized the issue—it was Peyton’s home address, and only had BLEACKE listed as the name.
“They don’t receive deliveries. They all get dropped here.
I can sign for it, if you want.” Which was technically a lie.
Since the Segura cartel’s attack, all packages and mail got dropped at the new postal center at the front gate, to be distributed throughout the compound by a packmate, but usually that address was listed with a box number.
The kid looked at his tablet and scowled. “No, sir. It says I need a signature from the addressee, sorry. Unless your last name’s Bleacke?” he asked hopefully.
“No, it’s not. You got a few minutes to hang out? I can get someone over here from the family. Why don’t you bring it inside?”
“Sure.” The kid headed out to do just that
Web dialed Badger’s cell number, because he’d been in the store just yesterday and said he was in town for a couple of weeks. The man answered almost immediately. “Aye?”
“I have a suspicious package being delivered. Clueless human carrier, the address is Peyton’s house, not the gatehouse, and it only says ‘Bleacke’ as the recipient.”
“Whassit?”
“I don’t know. The kid’s bringing it in now.” Web looked, and the kid had opened his trunk. “From here, it looks like it’s a box about fourteen- or sixteen-inches square. He’s bringing it in now.”
“He can’t leave it?”
“Instructions say recipient’s signature only, and I’m not about to send him to the compound.”
“No, we don’t want that. Me an’ Trent’ll head over.”
“Thanks.” He ended the call as the kid walked in with the box and set it on the counter. “They’re on their way,” he told the driver.
“Thanks! I appreciate it. This is my last delivery of the day, and I still have to drive all the way down south to Palouse next for a rush priority pick-up.”
“That’s a hike for you in that car, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “The van I usually use blew the transmission three days ago. They’re giving me mileage for using my own car until it’s back tomorrow.”
“They didn’t rent you a vehicle?”
Another shrug. “I just drive. It’s okay.” He grinned. “I got a free oil change and a new tire out of it so far.”
Web laughed. “Good for you.” He eyed the package and gave it a tentative, inconspicuous sniff. He didn’t sense anything like explosives. In fact…
“How heavy is that?” he asked. “Just out of curiosity,” he added when the kid scowled.
He looked at his tablet. “Says twelve pounds, two ounces.” He picked it up and hefted it but didn’t shake it. “Kinda feels like a bowling ball, maybe?” He set it back on the counter. “Weird it’s a rush shipment if that’s what it is.”
“We have a small, private bowling alley in town,” he lied. “League tournament coming up. Where’d it come from?” The kid eyed him. “Sorry, I’m nosy. It’s a small town, and I’m related to the Bleackes.”
“Ah.” Kid looked at his tablet. “Dropped off at a place in Seattle this morning for same-day rush shipment.” He tapped something.
“Driven to our Spokane hub with the morning shipment, and then handed off to me. I had three other deliveries on the way out here, and the delivery timeframe was guaranteed same day, by 5:00 pm.”
“Huh.” Web grabbed his phone and texted Badger.
Get here FAST. We have a serious problem. Not the driver—the package. I have a suspicion what’s in it.
Because Web had seen some shit in his life.
And if he was wrong about the box’s contents…
Well, he’d eat them.
Badger texted him back seconds later.
Bomb?
Web replied.
No, but we need this clueless human kid out of here ASAP before it’s opened.
The kid was looking at his phone and happened to look up. Web made sure to fake a smile for him.
Badger replied.
Coming in hot. ETA 6.
Web tucked his phone in his back pocket and felt thankful no one else was in the store. “They’ll be here in about five minutes,” he told the kid. “Can I get you a water or something?”
“No, thanks. But can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.” He pointed. “Right down there.”
“Thanks!” He took his tablet with him but left the package on the counter.
Once the driver locked the bathroom door behind him, Web picked up the box and gently shook it, his stomach rolling as his suspicions were confirmed.
Both from the feel of the contents and from the strong scent his wolf nose picked up.
He set it on the counter where the driver had put it.
The kid made it back to the counter just as Trent and Badger pulled up in front of the door, parked crossways, and ran in.
“Here they are now,” Web said.
The driver smiled. “I just need an ID for my system,” he said. “It only says Bleacke, so anyone with that name will do. Sorry about that, but my bosses are strict. When it says recipient only without the box checked for any signer, it means it.”
“No problem.” Trent showed him his license, the kid scanned it, and then Trent signed with the stylus the kid gave him.
“Where’d it come from?” Trent asked.
Badger laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder, but the driver gave the same answer he’d given Web.
Badger nodded at Trent, indicating the kid was telling the truth.
Then the driver pointed to a plastic pouch on one side, which contained what looked like a shipping invoice. “All the deets should be in that. Have a good day!” He left.
When the door swung shut, Trent asked, “Web, we alone?”
“Yep.” Web was already rounding the corner to lock the front door. “Want to open it in back?”
“I don’t want to open it at all,” Trent grimly said.
Trent
He didn’t need to be a Prime to already know what Web thought it was, because he was certain he knew, too.
Fortunately, the scent wasn’t one he knew well. While he didn’t know the person’s identity, he did sense they were a wolf.
Please don’t be someone we know… PLEASE don’t be someone we know!
Web had a mop basin on the floor by the back door, and that’s where Trent set the box.
Trent pulled out his pocketknife. “Badger, get pics of it first, please.”
“Want gloves?” Web asked.
“Not a bad idea,” Trent said.
Web fetched him a set of blue nitrile gloves.
After Badger took stills, he started filming video while Trent slit open the packing slip envelope.
All the paperwork said was where it was shipped from, the weight, and the time it was shipped.
Smith was the name given as the shipper. Contents were listed as miscellaneous.
Insured for $100.
And the fee was paid in cash.
Badger snorted. “Guess it’s someone not worth verra much, aye?”
“Probably the default amount,” Trent said. “Not like you can declare ‘decapitated head’ on the shipping manifest.” Next, he carefully slit the tape on the top of the box and opened the flaps.
Inside sat another box sealed with packing tape and completely encased by several layers of blue-tinted shrink wrap.
Badger grunted. “No, that’s not suspicious at allll.”
“Web,” Trent said. “Get my phone out of my back pocket, please, and take stills before I go any further.”
He did, and then Trent carefully slit the shrink wrap and packing tape, exposing another cardboard box inside that one.
All three wolf shifters leaned back when the smell hit them.
“Bloody hell!” Badger muttered. “Feckin’ fresh. Prob’bly early this morning. Definitely a wolf.”
Web’s nose wrinkled. “I wish I was wrong earlier.”
On top of that box was a white label with Cyrillic handwriting:
Воздерживаться Тотчас
“Anyone know what that means?” Trent asked.
Web pulled out his phone and scanned it, looking grim as he held it so both men could read the results.
The translation app knew what language it was: Russian.
CEASE IMMEDIATELY
“Fuck,” Trent said.
“Ye wanna take it back to the house and do this next part?” Badger asked.
“Nope. Let’s get it over with. I want to know who it is.” Trent took a deep breath and slit the packing tape on the top of the innermost box and carefully opened the flap.
Inside was a round object wrapped in several layers of black trash bags encased by more blue shrink wrap.
Its shape was unmistakably a head.
“Oh, boy,” Web said. “They weren’t fucking around to make sure it didn’t leak, were they?”
Trent reluctantly worked his way through the layers. When he peeled them back, the man’s sightless eyes stared up at them out of a blood-spattered face, his mouth frozen in a rictus of agony.
Trent blew out a breath. “I don’t know him.”
“I do,” Badger grimly said, staring down at it. “That’s Ray Dorland.”