7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Abby
“Something isn’t adding up.” Gage was standing, arms propped on his desk as he leaned over a pile of papers.
I hovered in the doorway, chewing my lip. “Did you hear me?”
“No.”
“I said I’m here to remind you that meeting with Joseph Cargill is in less than thirty minutes.”
He ignored me, muttering, “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t make any sense?”
He took the folder from his desk and held it out for me. I crossed the room to accept it. When I was across from his desk, Gage shortened his arm, forcing me to come around the side where he was standing.
If it was anyone else, I would have thought it was intentional. Now I was in his space, closer than was necessary or professional. But his focus was solidly fixed on his laptop, and he was the last person that wanted to be close to me.
He gestured at the folder with his chin, gaze unfocused. “Joseph Cargill lives in New York. He worked for the military and later private military contractors for almost forty years. Why would he come to Seattle for security?”
I tried to pay attention to what he was saying but the taste of citrus was still tangy on my tongue, and I could smell orange zest on Gage’s shirt.
Ping.
I should probably have someone listen to my heartbeat. That couldn’t be normal. Today was the third day I came into work to find a freshly peeled orange waiting for me. No note, not a word from Gage, but it was obviously his doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t get rid of the head rush I felt when I took the first bite.
It was just a kind gesture from someone that didn’t know any other way to show kindness. And I was a heartsick woman that was treated so poorly in my last relationship that Gage could leave the crumbs from his sandwich on my desk, and I would probably see stars. I needed to say thank you and get over it. But he was still talking, and he had that look on his face that told me there would be no other conversation until he puzzled this out.
“Because you’re really good?”
“Our firm is less than two years old. On paper, we’re not any better than human security grunts.”
I flipped the folder open, staring uncomprehending at the zillion pages of background. This was why Levi had me take notes for Gage. Was this even written in English?
“Well, it’s because you’re not human then. Objectively, you can do the job better than a human security firm.”
“I still can’t see why he would cross the country for that.” He paced a half circle around his desk, ruffling his hair. “I’m missing something.”
I forced my eyes back on the folder and away from his hair. “Does it matter why he chose Silver Bullet over another firm?”
“Yes!” Gage snapped. He grit his teeth, looking to me with what I think was meant to be an apologetic look, and saying more calmly, “I just have this feeling.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “I trust your instincts. Tell me what to look for.”
In truth, I didn’t have time to help Gage. I was supposed to be preparing the conference room, double checking the proposed contract the firm’s lawyer sent over yesterday, and making sure refreshments were available. But I knew that if I didn’t at least entertain his suspicions, Gage would walk into that conference room like a tempest and that didn’t look good to prospective clients.
Between looking for Mackenna, setting up three new high ticket security systems, and following up on multiple background checks for new shifters relocating to Levi’s neutral territory, he was busy. That busyness was weighing on him. I was pretty sure he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and judging by the rings under his eyes, he wasn’t sleeping well.
It wasn’t fair to say the others didn’t work hard. Mason took so many twenty-four-hour security jobs that I had to force his days off. Kai and Ezra were focused and professional when they worked events or accompanied Gage to install security systems. Levi had his hands on everything, keeping up with dozens of shifters with heartbreaking stories while showing up every day as the charismatic boss that kept morale high.
The way they organized themselves gave me a better idea of what a pack was like. One body made up of many. Kai, Ezra, and Mason were the limbs. Levi was the head. And Gage? Well, he was the backbone, holding all those parts together. His job was the most time consuming, with hundreds of finite little details he had to keep track of.
Now that I had Levi mostly caught up on managing emergencies, I spent a large chunk of my day working side by side with Gage. In the beginning I was nervous. He clearly didn’t like me—or any human—and I was sure sitting in his office for hours would feel like pulling teeth. Instead, it was unexpectedly comfortable. There were no social expectations. We spent afternoons in easy silence.
He would mutter as he tapped away at his keyboard, and I would do my best to make sense of his mutterings and write them up into tidy notes. Or he would have me read back through his findings, mentally searching for gaps in his information as I spoke.
The only problem I had was that I was now spending more time with Gage than anyone else. He often complained that I was distracting him, demanding I rearrange my position at the desk or taking abrupt breaks to disappear from his office.
I had the same problem but for entirely different reasons. I felt off kilter when I was around him, my words jumbled. I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were more grey than blue. That his dark hair couldn’t decide if it was straight or curled, leaving an adorable wave at the top that flopped from side to side as he cocked his head.
I didn’t want to be attracted to him. I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone. But I was lonely and for some reason the more put off he was by me, the more I wanted to be in his space. Because, I realized, I was trying to prove that I was likable. It had nothing to do with Gage and everything to do with my stupid hang-ups. The same hang-ups that landed me in a miserable marriage where I bent myself in half trying to be loved. To someone that promised he would love me for the rest of our lives and then broke that promise over and over unless I proved myself. Unless I gave and gave without receiving.
Then he changed his mind for good the first time a hot shifter chick offered to blow him.
Clearly, I wasn’t the issue in that scenario.
I needed to keep reminding myself of that. All day every day. Every second that I was in Gage’s office. He was not going to be a surrogate to help me heal the wounds from my divorce. Only I could do that.
The missing piece that Gage was looking for kept eating at him as we hurried into the conference room moments before Levi, Gage with a collection of cords and tech, me with a tray of fresh coffees. That odd twitch had him jerking his head to the left. He raked his fingers down that side of his neck in irritation. If Levi was concerned with his brother’s agitation, he didn’t show it.
Levi gave the usual spiel for new clients when Joseph Cargill arrived. He explained the specialized abilities they had as shifters to assess and deter threats, and that his team was committed to their client’s safety at all costs.
Cargill listened politely, lips tilted in an expression that had the hairs lifting on my arms. I glanced at Gage and saw a similar response, his hand still scraping at the side of his neck until it turned pink.
There was a thin white scar below his ear on that side. I noticed it tucked behind his hair. Mason had a similar one, easy to spot with the sides of his hair buzzed. Maybe it was a military thing or maybe it was a coincidence that it looked the same. That seemed to be the center of his irritation, a phantom pain striking him until he shuddered.
“We’re familiar with your background, Mister Cargill,” Levi said, snapping my attention back to the meeting. “I was hoping you could give us more information about the nature of your concerns. Silver Bullet is equipped for most kinds of security threats. but we want to make sure we can provide the right service before any contract is confirmed.”
Joseph Cargill was surprisingly stocky for a man his age. He had a square face, with a square haircut that made him look like an army sergeant.
“I’m here because someone wants me dead,” Cargill said calmly, smiling over his clasped hands.
My fingers stilled on the keyboard of my tablet, waiting to hear the punchline of this joke. There were hypothetical dangers that came with working for a security firm, but in my five weeks here I hadn’t seen them. The first three clients Levi and I met with were corporate types. Men that had more money than they knew what to do with, and hired security more for the clout it gave them at fancy events than the actual need for protection.
“Have you received any direct threats?” Levi pressed.
“My home was firebombed.” He was so casual with his delivery, so unbothered, that I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“Why didn’t you mention this when you contacted the firm?” Levi asked, brow furrowed.
“I know what type of clients usually walk through these doors. I wasn’t sure you would sit down with me if I came to you with a genuine threat.”
Levi handled that comment with more grace than I would have. “We’re better equipped to handle this kind of threat than any other firm. Unfortunately, we aren’t available to handle a threat on the other side of the country. I need my team here.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Cargill took a long sip of his coffee. “This threat isn’t one that’s going to stay in New York.”
Levi and Gage exchanged a look. I could almost feel Gage’s suspicion burning through me. “So, you know who’s responsible for this?”
“I have an idea,” he said. “You’re trusted with a lot of classified information in my line of work. Some of that information has piqued the interest of an unsavory group.”
“I’m going to need a list of names,” Gage said gruffly.
“Vincent Manchini. That’s the only name I know, and the only one that matters. Where he goes, the rest follow.”
“Manchini?” Levi stared in disbelief. “You’re aware of who the Manchini family is, and what they do?”
“The FBI would tell you it’s organized crime,” Cargill answered. “Are they wrong?”
“They’re missing some important details. Manchini’s motivation is very specific.”
“Yes, and so are his methods,” Cargill said, “which is why I found it necessary to hire your firm. Sometimes you do have to fight fire with fire.”
“How do you know it’s Manchini?” Gage pried.
I swear, Cargill’s eyes twinkled when he fixed them on Gage. He was enjoying himself way too much for a man that feared for his life. “He’s been following me for months. I find animal prints all over my property. It’s my belief that he was trying to intimidate me. When sending multiple shifters to trespass on my estate didn’t work, he escalated.”
Shifter organized crime? I learned something new here every day.
“That doesn’t sound like the behavior of someone that wants you dead,” Gage pointed out.
“Well, he doesn’t want me dead yet. But if he corners me? I’d like to think I can tolerate a lot before breaking but I also know that all men have breaking points.”
Levi took a deep breath. “This is a serious concern, Mister Cargill. Have the appropriate authorities been contacted regarding this threat?”
“Oh, I always follow the rules,” he smirked. “They seem to think that I’ve irritated some activists. Something about the military or the environment or whatever nonsense those college kids are mad about this week.”
“But you’re certain this is related to classified knowledge that you were privy to?”
“Absolutely positive,” Cargill said, tapping on his phone screen and sliding it across the table to Levi.
I glanced over the top of Levi’s wrist and saw a picture of the sooty words “where is it?” smudged onto the single undamaged wall in a burned room.
“And you know what ‘it’ is referring to?”
“A very valuable asset,” he answered cryptically. “You understand how it is.”
“Yes,” Levi agreed, “we understand.”
There was a pause as Levi considered his next words, Cargill sipping from his coffee patiently. “Unfortunately, this kind of threat will require much more time and resources than what our original contract laid out. I’ll need twenty-four hours to work out a new contract with our lawyer.”
“I expect I’ll still be alive by tomorrow morning.” Cargill took another casual sip from his coffee. Something about his demeanor was wrong. Even someone with an extensive military career should be a little frightened by the idea of shifter mafia thugs trying to hurt him for classified information.
“We can recommend safe accommodations in the meantime,” Levi offered.
Cargill waved the concern away. “No need. I have a few contacts up my sleeve.” He stood, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up to demonstrate. “You know where to reach me when you’re ready to make this official.”
“Mister Cargill—”
“Stay in touch!” He interrupted Levi, letting himself out of the conference room without a backward glance.
Levi stood, following Cargill out into the lobby. There was a murmured exchange as Levi held the door for him, but whatever he was trying to say, Joseph Cargill was entirely uninterested. Dang. I’d never seen anyone blow off an alpha like that before. It took guts. It also seemed stupid when that alpha was going to be the one protecting you.
“Gage?” I said out of the corner of my mouth. “Who is Vincent Manchini?”
Gage startled, his gaze fixated too intently on Cargill as he vanished. “He’s—He’s the alpha of the Manchini pack.”
“I didn’t realize there were shifter mafias.”
“They’re not selling drugs and weapons or laundering money,” he explained, suddenly very busy typing. “I mean, they are…” His attention was swallowed up by what he saw on the screen. I hopped into Levi’s seat, scooching up next to Gage and leaning over his shoulder to see. Gage had a page on the FBI’s website pulled up. The words “shifter extremist” caught my attention.
“What do they mean by ‘extremist?’”
Gage tore his eyes from the screen to glare at me. “You know how some people hate shifters and think we’re dirty animals?”
“Yeah?”
“Some shifters feel the same way about humans. They think they’re the superior group and should have dominion over the human world.”
“Wait, really?”
“Have you lived under a rock your whole life?”
“I mean, kind of,” I said defensively. “There were no shifters where I grew up!”
“Wrong,” he clipped, turning back to his screen. “You didn’t care to notice them, but they were there.”
I bit my tongue only enough to hold back a scathing response, choosing to say, “You make a lot of unfair assumptions about people, Gage,” before hurrying from the conference room to follow Levi to his office.
We spent fifteen minutes discussing Levi’s expectations for the new contract. He would have called the firm’s lawyer himself, he claimed, but there was suddenly a dire need to meet with Kai and discuss a personal matter.
Shifters had odd priorities sometimes. But this was my job, and I was happy to do anything that kept me out of Gage’s office and away from his unpredictable mood, so I gladly settled at my desk to make the call. When I was finished I grabbed my purse, relieved to be fetching lunch on time for once. Gage didn’t offer to walk with me to the nearest shifter friendly café. That was a relief too.
I was going to get whiplash if he kept up like this. I stepped out of the office with a sigh, enjoying the cool breeze and the momentary lack of rain.
There was another café within walking distance to the office. Sadly, their roast beef sandwiches weren’t as good, but the flavor wasn’t ruined by psycho, anti-shifter management, so that was a plus.
I made it halfway down the block before I noticed a stocky man in a suit, one meaty hand running agitated fingers through the grey strands of his close-cropped hair. Joseph Cargill was stalking down the sidewalk in front of me, cell phone pressed to his ear. I couldn’t make out what he was saying but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t pleased with whoever he was talking to. Gage’s instinct from this morning niggled at me, and before I knew it I was walking faster, straining to catch any of the conversation.
“Did you identify the source of the interference or not?” His pace quickened. Mine did too.
“The reaction was far from baseline. He should have—” Why was I following him? This was insane. Gage’s crazy was rubbing off on me.
“Well, figure it out! This might be the breakthrough I—” I clutched my phone in my hand, begging my feet to stop moving but feeling possessed by my curiosity. There was something off about Cargill.
“And find out where the hell Garcia is!”
Cargill stopped suddenly, aggressively tapping the screen to end his call. My shoes scuffed the sidewalk as I stalled my legs. Two more steps and I would have run into him. I barely had time to lift my phone to my face before he whirled, thumbing wildly through the first social media app that opened when I mashed buttons. I held the phone up to my nose, eyes barely focused as I pretended to scroll and walk.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, ducking around him, and hurrying past.
I could feel his eyes on me, my skin prickling from the sensation. My brain kept screaming for me to turn around. I forced myself forward, tripping over cracks in the sidewalk, my legs forgetting how to walk properly under the attention.
A hand dropped onto my shoulder, and I screamed, turning to swing my arm at Cargill.
“What the hell!” Gage barked, lifting his arm to block the blow from my purse. “At least it wasn’t pepper spray this time.”
“Gage?” I panted, pressing my hand over my heart. “What are you doing?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving for lunch?” He had this thing about answering questions with questions.
“Because it’s not relevant to you?”
Gage shifted on the sidewalk, scanning the surroundings. His nostrils flared and he twisted to look behind us. There was a parking garage near where Joseph Cargill had been standing.
Of course. Most tenants in our building used the parking garage. Mister Cargill was just walking to his car, taking a personal call that was none of my business.
Gage turned back to me, and I realized that he seemed winded. His hair was ruffled and there was a faint color to his cheeks, like he’d been running.
“What happened?”
“Huh? Nothing. You startled me.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re sure? You felt—” He coughed awkwardly. “I mean, you looked scared.”
“Doomscrolling will do that to you.” I waved my phone in the air, showing off whatever random video was playing on the screen.
He didn’t look convinced. “That’s just a video of a dog riding a horse.”
I winced. “Horses are creepy.”
Gage snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”
I sighed, stuffing my phone into my purse, and clutching the handle on my shoulder. I wanted to be annoyed that Gage was here, filling up the space between us with awkward tension and making me too aware of what I was doing with my hands, but I couldn’t get over the feeling that I was being watched.
I allowed myself one quick check over my shoulder, peering at the entrance to the parking garage and reassuring myself that no one was there. I was the one creeping on him. Then we turned the corner and for the briefest moment, I could have sworn I saw Joseph Cargill’s pale face in the shadows of the second floor.
I blinked, and he was gone. Another shiver tingled up the back of my neck.
I ignored it.