Chapter 2 Royal
ROYAL
THE SAFE AND SCREWDRIVER
The overhead door is closing as I open the entry door from the house to peer out into the garage, which is empty of the cars that normally occupy the space.
“What’s the deal? You took my favorite little pest because we’re doi— oh, okay, so when Mom said ‘something loud’ I thought she meant drilling or excavating, not Valor’s job. ”
A male human is tied to an old wooden captain’s chair, which is set on tarps in the center of the garage. He’s unconscious, his thick head of brown hair slumped between his shoulders.
Yesterday a wedding, today a man tied up in the garage. It’s always something.
“I didn’t want to bother your brother when it’s something so simple.” Dad’s chest is proudly puffed up as he admires his handiwork.
“Yeah, I don’t think you remember, but it’s your other son who has a hankering for blood. I’m more of an information-in-the-form-of-computers kid.” I close the door to the house behind me, my nose wrinkling at the scent of blood already thick in the air.
“It’ll be easy,” Dad says, walking over to his tool chest.
Unlike Valor’s, which is full of implements hand selected to cause harm and maim without killing, Dad’s is filled with actual tools, like screwdrivers and shit.
“So what exactly is so simple and easy that we can do it?” I slide on my ratty old sneakers I wear for jogs down the driveway to get the mail.
“We need him to give us the combination to a safe.” Dad grabs a flathead screwdriver out of the toolbox. “I’ll show you how Neil and I used to do it back in the old days.”
My whole body cringes at the thought of what we’re about to do. “Where is said safe?”
“In the back of my truck.” Dad shrugs and approaches the guy, grabbing hold of his hair.
“Why don’t I crack into the safe, and we can save the time torturing the guy?” I walk toward the side door to the garage.
“I already had our usual guys take a stab at it. They couldn’t get through.” Dad huffs. “I’m not that old. I tried the path of least resistance first.”
“But you didn’t come to the kid genius with a massive tech budget who bought some safe-cracking tools last year.” I point out and open the door. The cool late autumn air tickles my skin.
Dad sighs to himself, but I don’t hear any screaming as I close the door, so at least maybe he’s waiting a little bit.
I see the rather sizable safe sticking out of the back of Dad’s truck before I even open the tailgate.
It’s covered with what looks like concrete, as if it’s been ripped out of the side or floor of a building.
But the mechanism on the front is something I’ve been meaning to practice on and most definitely fit for the equipment I bought.
I head back into the garage and find that Dad woke the guy up.
“What safe?” The guy’s eyes dart between me and Dad. “I don’t know anything about a safe.”
“You don’t know anything about the safe that was in the back of your restaurant?” Dad holds the metal of the screwdriver in one hand while tapping the handle against his other palm.
“Dad,” I bark, “I’ve got the tools. Give me five minutes before you start making the body disposal that much harder.”
His eyes cut into me, but he gives me a single nod in approval. With a yawn and a stretch, I cross the garage and head back into the house and down to my lair. The tools are stacked neatly on a shelf in my storage room, waiting for their opportunity to shine.
When I get back into the garage, Dad has backed his truck inside and closed the door. The stranger’s face is now inches from the end of the tailgate.
“And this is where Valor gets his unhinged from.” I sigh as the engine cuts off.
Walking behind the guy in the chair, I roll it back out of the way, leaving it still on a corner of the tarp.
“Damn, I missed him,” Dad grumbles. “Well, hurry up and get into it then. I don’t have all day. Your mother wants to go antiquing.”
“No, she wants to torture you by taking you to antique stores because you said her potatoes were a little bland last night.” I correct him before setting my tools on the tailgate and scaling up alongside them.
“She’s not that upset over one comment.” Dad furrows his brow. “Is she?”
“Yeah. How is it in forty years of marriage you haven’t figured that out yet?” I turn to look at him, cocking my head, but Dad stays his stony self, and I turn back to the safe.
Silly alpha. My wolf giggles.
“I’ve never seen that safe before,” the guy stammers.
It takes only a couple minutes to set up the safe-cracking software and hook up the mechanical spinner on the safe door itself. All the while, Dad tries to press the guy strapped to the chair for more information about what’s in the safe.
Within five minutes, the safe is open, Dad knows no new information, and I’m packing up my equipment.
“Well, that was easy,” Dad huffs, and I hear that very distinctive gurgle of blood like someone’s throat was just slit.
I clench my eyes shut but take a quick peek to find dark red pooling on the floor under the chair.
At least he didn’t get tortured for something so stupid.
Not that bleeding out is a short process.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and step back.
It’s not like there isn’t a time to torture people for information, and maybe the guy was a bad person, but this seems a little too . . . trivial for that sort of bloodshed.
I look at the contents of the safe. It’s stuffed with cash, guns, and files of paper. I reach for one of the folders. “What is this?”
“Don’t touch it!” Dad barks, and I snap my hand back. “It’s evidence we’ll be planting on a competitor.” His words become calmer and more well-mannered.
“Oh.” I take a healthy step back from the safe. “Well, alright then. Did you need anything else?”
“I don’t have anything for you. I won’t make you deal with this.” Dad gestures to the chair with a bloody screwdriver.
My stomach lurches under the hefty realization that he slit a guy’s throat with the same screwdriver he uses to fix practically everything.
I close the door to the garage and rest my weight against it. The bag of equipment in my hands feels like the anchor holding me to the floor.
You have no problem killing rabbits but other prey? My wolf sighs.
I let him have more space in my brain, and he helps ease the discomfort of my stomach.
I’m halfway down the stairs when a flurry of text messages hits my phone.
Valor:
Can you text me the dumbed-down version of what happened while I was gone?
Easy enough. He was only gone for a week, and sure, our whole world changed, but the events are pretty straightforward.
Valor:
Why didn’t you catch that Antonella was a D’Medici?
Rude much? I hate that not catching a single personnel file — in an elementary school full of staff — makes me look incompetent, but it’s not like he caught it either.
Valor:
Need a phone for Antonella. Clothing too. Was that negotiated for at all? Can you investigate that or get Mom and the pack ladies to get her outfitted accordingly?
I put my cool, and proven useful, toys back on their shelf and answer him, one message at a time.
Royal:
Sean died. The arbiter was called in. D’Ms demanded you marry A. Funeral planning. Taught K how to play Texas Hold’em.
I wonder if he’ll comment on the fact that the only way I know how to play Texas Hold’em is by counting cards.
Royal:
Didn’t catch because her documents were tight. Now that I found the flaw, double-checking everything else. Won’t happen again.
Embarrassment flames my cheeks. I’m better at background checks than Valor. He didn’t catch it when he reviewed the school prior to Kerrianne’s enrollment, but I should have when I was looking into Kerrianne’s new teacher.
School has been in session for months, and that’s months that Kerrianne was in the same building as someone from a rival family.
I’d be devastated if Kerrianne was hurt because of me.
Granted, Antonella and Kerrianne have only been in the same classroom together for a little over a week, but he has every right to be taking the crappy, direct tone with me rather than asking.
We’ve already had this guilt. We looked at her documents again and again. There is no way to know that the D’Medicis had papers this good. My wolf stops me from beating myself up.
And I know he’s right. Less than a week ago, I was already berating myself for this. But now that my older brother has caught up with my fuckup, I’m hating being seen as subpar.
Can’t stand seeing blood, guts, and death. Missed Antonella’s paperwork. Not to mention, we had access to their house through a subsidiary all this time and no one knew to look.
I plop down at my desk chair and send off one more text.
Royal:
10-4 phone, negotiations, and lady stuff.
I open my chat with Mom.
Royal:
Antonella needs clothes and things appropriate for the future alpha’s wife. Valor asked for help. I’m working on his new bride’s phone, but could you handle the wardrobe?
Mom sends back a thumbs-up and an emoji of a shopping bag and then the smiley face with a money tongue before my phone stops vibrating, and I set it down on the desk.
You’re not bad. My wolf reassures me. We’re smarter in other things. Imagine Valor trying to get into the safe. My wolf thinks of Valor’s wolf trying to chew on the knob and ultimately peeing on it and walking away.
He has a point. But it doesn’t stop me from throwing myself into doing a better job and getting all the technology locked down.