Claws Bared Page 13

  “But he didn’t have any notes?” I asked. “I’ve seen your journals, your notebooks.”

  “Not everyone puts their findings down on paper. Too easy to lose or have stolen by the competition, especially if you’re running under an alias.” Bran tapped the table with one finger. “There’s something, somewhere.”

  “His cell phone’s missing. There was nothing at his place. No laptop.” I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my hand. “But I wasn’t the first one there, damn it.”

  “Did the Board know he was a reporter?” Bran asked. “Might have made a difference in the way they searched the apartment. It’s one thing to be looking for evidence of a mad mistress, another to be digging for a reporter’s notes.”

  “I doubt it.” I shook my head. “Carson would have let me know that from the start. If Hancock was working on a story about the Pride there’d be no reason to have me investigate.”

  Bran looked up. “Why not?”

  The words stuck in my throat. “He’d be a threat to the Pride and to the family. If a Felis killed him there’d be no questions as long as the death was to protect our secret. They’d have filed a report with the Grand Council and been done with it.”

  A shadow drew across his face. “Right. I’d forgotten the first time you took me to the farm.”

  I winced inside. I’d taken Bran there to keep an eye on him while we worked the same case, albeit from different angles. The Board misinterpreted it and I’d had to do some fast talking to get Bran out from under their claws.

  I scowled at the laptop screen. “No, they ran with the adultery angle, ran the story to ground. Damned cleaners might not even know what they destroyed as they plowed through Hancock’s place looking for evidence of an affair.”

  Bran rubbed his chin, swiveling the chair around to face me. “Everyone assumed and is assuming he was killed because he was in a relationship with one of the women. Killed by either her or her mate.”

  “Except for the murderer,” I interrupted.

  “Except for the murderer.” Bran rested his elbows on his knees. “Who should have tossed his apartment as well.” He shrugged. “I would have. Get rid of all the evidence.”

  I wriggled my nose. “I didn’t smell anyone other than the two Felis and Hancock. She or he either didn’t get a chance to get inside the apartment or they’re in cahoots with the two enforcers.”

  “Cahoots?” He rolled his eyes. “No more late-night film noir for you.” His expression turned serious. “Who do the enforcers answer to?”

  “The Board. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t cover for anyone else if asked.” I sucked on my bottom lip. “If the Pride was at risk you could get any of them to cover for anyone.”

  “But then they wouldn’t call you in and the entire thing’s moot. So we’re back to the angry lover and/or her mate. Who we don’t know even exists.” Bran frowned. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know.” The fog grew in my mind, threatening to shut it down. “What the hell was he doing down here?”

  “We need his notes,” Bran said. “They’re out there somewhere.”

  “His cell phone,” I answered. “The killer took Hancock’s phone. Could he have put his notes on that?”

  “Possible. It’d be a good place for his raw data, photographs, the bare bones.”

  “The killer never went to the apartment because she figured she had it all. She couldn’t risk it, risk having her scent found there.” The fog lifted for a second. “She took the phone and figured the enforcers would take the laptop. Or something like that.”

  Bran brooded, his lips pressed tightly together. “It doesn’t make sense. Why even leave him out to be found? In an area like this she could have hidden the body easily.”

  “She wanted him found,” I said. “If Hancock just disappeared it’d be a bigger story—more so if and when he was exposed as a reporter. But if he’s killed by a Felis and left out in public, Carson has to make it look like an animal attack instead of conducting a proper murder investigation. Cuts down on outside interference—the less people looking into Hancock’s death the better.” I looked down at the empty candy wrapper. A small line of melted chocolate ran along the inside, tempting me. “Whatever he was investigating, it was enough to kill him and keep the real reason for his murder from the Board.”

  “We need to find out what Hancock was writing about,” Bran said. “Whatever it was, it was enough to get the Felis involved.”

  I shook my head. “But why? If Hancock wasn’t trying to expose the Pride then there’d be no reason for him to be killed.”

  “You’re thinking like a Felis.” Brandon reached forward and tapped me on the forehead with his index finger. “Think like an investigator.”

  I tossed the wrapper in the garbage and rubbed my aching eyes. “Right killer, wrong reasons. Still Pride business. Still my case.”

  “I can’t think clearly. Let’s go to bed. We’ll think better in the morning.” Bran shook his head. “It’s been a long day.”

  I watched as he got to his feet and undressed. The shirt went over the back of the chair, joined swiftly by his jeans. Damn man had gotten better looking in the past few months, if that were possible.

  I let my eyes wander southward. Whatever was in the future between us was in the future—right now there was only he and I and a whole lot of want. “Learn any new moves at the club?”

  His wide smile sent my heart racing. “Maybe. Want me to put some songs on?”

  I yawned and rolled over. “Meh. I don’t feel like listening to more loud music.”

  “I can be quiet,” Bran said from behind. I could hear the smirk in his voice.

  Time to call his bluff.

  “Show me.”

  He did.

  * * *

  We ate breakfast the next morning at the same diner I’d been to before, settling ourselves at the opposite end of the restaurant from the already-present Board members. I wasn’t sure if there was any place to eat without running into the family and having them report back—so I didn’t even bother trying.

  Besides, the food was faboo.

  Carson was on his third cup of coffee in less than ten minutes. I hoped it was decaf.

  Plussey kept doodling on a napkin, filling three of them with notes he tucked into a side pocket.

  McCallum focused on his steak. He didn’t look toward the parking lot where nephew Trace waited, still trapped on guard duty in his pickup. I almost felt sorry for the poor man—obviously when they set a babysitter on someone they were darned serious about it.

  I didn’t feel sorry enough to take him breakfast.

  I repeated my earlier meal of steak and eggs, watching Bran work on pancakes the size of manhole covers.

  “That should be illegal,” I mumbled through my teeth as he poured maple syrup over the stack.

  “Gives me ideas.” He winked.

  I focused on the bloody slab of meat. “Behave.”

  “Tease.” He pointed his fork at the ceiling. “I’m innocent, I tell you. Innocent.”

  “Keep it down.” I glanced toward the other end of the restaurant. “I’m hoping they can’t hear us this far away. I’d rather keep some things private.”

  “Can you hear them?” he asked. “Vice versa and all that stuff.”

  “No. But I’m out of practice.” I cleared my throat. “Okay, I’m putting you to work.” I sighed when Bran raised an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across his face. “No, not taking a job at the club. We sort of shot that one down with you showing up at the farm.”

  He let out a dramatic sigh. “Damn. Not really an option with everyone knowing I’m with you.”

  “Let me handle the Felis side. I need you to run the human angle. I want you to dig around and talk to the local press. Hancock wasn’t here on a whim—he had something or someone he was investigating. We need to know who and what.” I wrestled with a tough bit of gristle. “Newspaper’s run by Cassie Prosser, rabidly anti-club. If
there’s anyone looking for local corruption it’d be her. I don’t see how Hancock would be running undercover and not on her radar. She might have been the one to bring him in since any of her local boys would be easily identified.” I sliced off another mouthful of steak. “When we met at the crime scene she didn’t seem to want to buy the animal attack story. And when we spoke at the bar she wasn’t too accepting of my cover story ’bout the insurance.”

  “Corruption.” Bran pushed a blueberry the size of a marble around in the syrup. “That points to local politics and that gets really nasty, really quickly.” He popped the berry into his mouth and spoke around it. “What do you think he was digging up?”

  “The easy answer is payoffs to the town council to keep the club around. But that doesn’t explain how the Felis got involved. They don’t own the club. The men aren’t even allowed to work there. Whether the Cat’s Meow goes or stays doesn’t affect them. There’s no reason why a Felis would kill Hancock or get involved with the cover-up unless they had something to gain. Lisa Darning is on the radar, being both Felis and on the council, but I’m not seeing her as a killer.” I added more hot sauce to a forkful of scrambled eggs. “But it could be anything using the club as a front. Drugs, prostitution, rigging local elections. I can’t just go by the venue. I need to know what Hancock was digging up.”

  Bran looked down the diner to the three Board members. They studiously ignored us. “How much do you think they know?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Problem is, I need their help. I can’t barge around here like a bull in a china shop and get answers. If I were back in Toronto—no problem digging up the bodies and cutting through the bullshit. Here, everyone’s connected either through blood or through family. I need the family connection.” I tried not to look outside. “Tempers flare quickly ’round here. Carson blew up at me yesterday; I can’t say I won’t be challenged as I dig deeper.”

  He hacked away at the mound. “Could always call Jess. Get some backup from your own kind. Bring down your own enforcers, bodyguards, whatever you want to call ’em.” His eyes flashed to the window and the parking lot outside. “Could always quit the job.”

  I shook my head. “Jess’ll just tell me to do what I need to do to get to the truth. She’s not going to send down any help. It’ll raise the Board’s hackles and make it even more difficult to find the truth.” I met his eyes. “And I know who I can trust. I can trust you.”

  He gave me a sly wink. “And this Grand Council? Can’t they do something? Don’t they have, like, a strike force? Felis Special Forces?”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “It’s complicated. They oversee all the Boards and Prides but it’s more of an honorary thing. They don’t like getting involved with the day-to-day running. They make recommendations and establish policy. If the Prides don’t follow there’s no actual penalty but it’s harder to do business and make friends—that sort of quiet intimidation.”

  Bran beamed as the waitress refilled his cup and dropped a half dozen creamers by the mug. “Thank you.” He waited until she moved away. “But they’re scary enough to make this group call Jess to ask for your talented ass.” His hand moved down under the table to stroke my thigh. “Very talented.”

  I wriggled on the thick, red leather cushions. “Thanks.” I sipped my own coffee. “It’s because no one wants a Felis to get away with killing a human for no good reason. Once it becomes acceptable it’ll happen again.”

  “Once you’ve tasted blood?” Bran quipped.

  “More or less. It’ll start as a trickle, a killing over an implied slight or a drunken fight, and turn into a flood and the family won’t know what to do about it. Do you tell the world about us and deal with the consequences or start killing our own to keep the secret?” I watched the three men mumble to each other, casting glances at us. “No Pride wants to be the first to have that on their record.”

  The trio got to their feet and headed toward our table.

  “And here we go.” I sighed.

  Bran wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Good. I hate too much foreplay.” His hand gave a last squeeze before retreating to hold his coffee cup.

  I tried not to twitch. Carson was the first to speak, stopping in front of the table.

  “May we join you for a minute?” He held his uniform cap in both hands as if he was begging for an audience. I didn’t miss the significance.

  “Sure.” I slid closer to Bran. McCallum and Plussey moved in next to me, Carson next to Bran. The discomfort was evident in all three men, their eyes darting from Bran to me and back again. They might be living and working beside humans, but these Felis didn’t embrace them as equals.

  It didn’t escape me that they’d effectively trapped us between them.

  “We’d like to start by apologizing for the misunderstanding last night.” McCallum spoke first, twisting his fingers into a knot. “If we’d have known your—” he stumbled over the word, “—boyfriend was coming down we wouldn’t have ended up in that situation.”

  “No problem.” I smiled, ratcheting up their stress level another notch with my calmness. “It was good of Lisa to bring Brandon up.”

  “Yes.” McCallum’s nostrils twitched. “Trace sends his apologies as well. He was a bit wound up after the run and didn’t understand what he was getting into. He was overenthusiastic, as young men tend to get.” He switched from Board member to the friendly uncle in a flash. “He’s a good fellow. Works hard, plays hard and takes care of his own.”

  I resisted the urge to look out into the parking lot. Either he didn’t think I’d picked up Trace tailing us or he was trying to put in a good argument for me dumping Bran for his nephew.

  Bran gave McCallum a wide grin. “Hey, we’re cool. I’d have taken him out anyway.” He paused for a single beat. “Nah...”

  The three men gave a group chuckle. I could see they were still trying to figure out what to make of Bran. The number of humans privy to the inner workings of the Felis had to be less than a handful, and here was one right in their collective faces.

  I held back a smile at their discomfort.

  “Have you made any progress on the investigation?” Carson said. He dragged his finger through a bit of spilled salt.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” I watched him brush his hand off on his sharply pressed trousers. “It seems that Mike Hansa wasn’t who he appeared to be.”

  “What?” McCallum pressed. There was a thin line of sweat on his forehead, threatening to break free. “Who was he?”

  “His real name was Michael Hancock.” I studied their faces, looking for a flicker of recognition at the revelation. “He’s...he was an investigative reporter.”

  A wave of fear splashed over me. These three were lousy poker players.

  “What was he doing at the club?” Carson whispered. His pale skin had gone even whiter.

  “Trying to uncover our secrets,” Plussey said before I could answer. His fingers drew up into fists, the wrinkled skin tense and shaking. “It would make sense. He tries to find out about us and gets the wrong woman mad.”

  “Or man,” Bran added. “If I recall correctly you’ve all got claws.” His eyes went down to Carson’s hands and back up to the chief’s face. There was no joking here, just straight-up undiluted Bran.

  My left leg pushed up against Brandon’s. “I’m keeping an open mind as to what he was looking for.”

  McCallum shook his head. “If a reporter was actively seeking information about the family, the murder could be justifiable.” He glanced at the other two members. “I would have no problem ruling it self-defense under those circumstances.”

  Plussey let out something akin to a hum, studying his fingernails. Carson shifted from side to side, reminding me of a child needing to find the bathroom and fast.

  Bran’s left eye twitched. “Wait a minute. You’d condone and cover up the murder of a human just to keep your little secret?”

  I dropped my hand down onto his knee and sque
ezed. Hard.

  “Are you asking me to terminate the investigation if I find out that was what he was working on?” I phrased it as officially as possible. If they wanted me gone I needed it as clear as possible without any wriggle room.

  It’d make it easier to disobey.

  McCallum started to speak and then stopped. He glanced at the other two men. “I think we should discuss this revelation privately before handing down any decision.”

  Plussey nodded. “We need to assess the pluses and minuses of keeping this investigation going.”

  Carson looked at me. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “It’s complicated.”

  “Welcome to life,” I said. Bran’s leg began to bounce under my touch, despite my best attempt to hold him at bay. “I do want to tell you that with or without your blessing I’m going to continue to investigate this. A man is dead and he deserves justice.”

  McCallum’s jaw tensed. “Without our blessing you’ll have a hell of a time getting around town.”

  “I’ll manage,” I said, letting the frigid tone speak for itself. “If you spoke to Jess you know what I’m like. You’re not going to call me off like a trained dog because it’s inconvenient for you to deal with.” I threw down my invisible hand of cards. “If he was killed because he knew about the family, why hasn’t she or he come forward? Why aren’t they claiming credit if they think it was a justified and honorable kill?”

  The three men exchanged glances as I maintained a killer hold on Bran’s leg.

  Carson was the first to break ranks. “Someone’s hiding something—that much is true.” He didn’t look at the other two men. “I want you to see this through. What can I do to help?”

  I felt the leg muscles go limp. “You had men search Hancock’s apartment, looking for evidence of a Felis lover. I need whatever they removed from the apartment.” I didn’t mention the intrusion into my hotel room. “Whatever they took, even the smallest thing, I need to know.”

  Carson frowned. “They didn’t take anything.” His voice edged on a whine.