Private Dicks (3 page)

Mika laughs. "I thought that'd cheer you up," he says. "There are a couple of gangs within the city that run supplies for us, mostly dealing with our spice trade, and they haven't paid us our percentage out of their sales yet."

"Do you control a lot of the gangs in the city?"

"Most." Mika leans against Donovan's shoulder. "Some run supplies, and some provide protection for some of the unremarkable businesses, you know?" He looks at Donovan. "There's really only one or two that we don't bother with, hm?"

"Mm." Donovan's staring right at me, and I lower my eyes automatically, a shiver running down my spine. He laughs and nudges my chin up. "Don't do that, pup," he says, smiling. "I was just thinking that you're awfully pretty."

Awfully … Awfully …

"Van, you broke him," Mika complains, and my entire face goes hot. They both laugh that not-mocking laughter I don't think I'll ever get used to, and Donovan ruffles his hand through my hair. "Ignore him, Reese, he just doesn't know when to shut up."

"O … kay." I glance at Donovan as Mika pulls me to the armory, but he's already walking away.

"So, you ready to go bust some heads open?" Mika asks as he hands me a gun.

I trace my fingers over the grip and finger the trigger. "Oh, yeah."

*~*~*

"First kill, pup," Mika murmurs next to me. We both look over the dossier Lee had handed to me this morning, and my blood's been singing ever since then. "Excited?"

"Yeah." I grin before I can tell myself not to, and besides, Mika's always telling me not to be so serious. I look around the empty training room and glance at Mika pointedly, but he ignores my unspoken question. I smooth the impatience from my face and flip through the dossier again. We've been waiting in here for at least ten minutes, but Mika shows no signs of getting up, so all I can do is fidget in my seat.

Two months, and they're finally gonna let me go out and kill somebody. I was starting to think that Donovan was gonna make me stay on guard duty around the mansion for forever. I sigh and smooth my fingers over the folder. No, he wouldn't do that. But even though he made the jump from me guarding to collecting pretty quickly, he hasn't let me go out and do it a lot. There's a fine tremor of adrenaline and excitement running through my body, and I haven't been let out enough to tame it. Sparring with Mika every day doesn't help, either, though I have to admit I've never had such a skilled sparring partner for this long before. Someone who's interested in sparring and not kicking the shit out of me every time he can.

I relax a little, and I see the corner of Mika's mouth tilt up. Bastard. I swear he does this stuff on purpose. I sigh loudly and slump in my seat, slinging an arm over the backrest even though my spine doesn't like the angle. I can be patient.

But five minutes later, I'm fidgeting again and shooting Mika glares that he ignores just like everything else. The man has the patience of a saint, I swear.

I open the dossier again. Rogue male from a southern pack. Late twenties, went feral some months back, but no one could catch him. He rampaged through a River and Dust training ground last month, and the whole East Coast has been out for his blood since then. He didn't kill anyone, but a lot of pups and kittens were hurt, and the mere thought of this wolf getting away has my hackles up.

"Down, boy," Mika says, his hand descending onto the back of my neck. I subside. "You'll get your chance, just give it a few minutes. Donovan got held up in a meeting."

Donovan? I glance at the door as if the thought will summon him. Why is Donovan going to brief me? I look at Mika as his hand returns to his lap, but there's no answer forthcoming from there, I know. I snort, but he still doesn't do anything, and I reel my impatience in. Deliberately trying to provoke my trainer, even one as patient as Mika, is always a stupid move.

But still. Why's Donovan briefing me? I've gotten the impression over the past few weeks that Donovan's personally managing my bid, but I haven't got any sort of clear indication until now. Normally, Mika would be the one to brief me and send me on my way; trainers generally have total control over the bid of the wolf they're training and only report to the alphas or head enforcers for major decisions and recommendations. Trainers are hugely powerful within a pack that has an open bid system like Deepine.

Footsteps echo down the hall, and I bolt upright and ignore Mika's chuckle. Donovan strides through the door and smiles when he sees me and Mika waiting. "I'm sorry I'm late," he says as he comes closer. Mika and I stand, and I tap my fingers against the dossier, even more eager to go now that Donovan's here. He laughs and grabs the back of my neck to reel me in so he can sniff my neck. Why does he keep doing that?

"He's been wiggling about for the last twenty minutes," Mika says, laughing briefly. I glare at him and hope they mistake the blush on my face for irritation rather than embarrassment.

"There's not much else I have to tell you," Donovan says, still hanging on to my neck. It's a habit of his I can't get used to. No one in Silverlight touches me unless they have to. "We know he's going to be within that area tonight, but not specifically where." He gives me a warm smile. "I have every confidence you'll do well."

"I'll make you proud," I murmur and lower my eyes, less out of habit this time as much as an attempt to save face. It's just all the smiles and general happiness that follows this alpha that I can't get used to, that's all.

"I know you will," he replies with perfect certainty. He buries his face in my neck again for a moment, and I try not to spontaneously combust before he moves away. "Good luck."

"Thank you." I frown after him. That's all? I thought he was going to brief me. I turn to Mika, and he takes the dossier.

"We've already gone over most of the information you need, pup." He flicks through the file quickly before closing it with a snap. "Yup, that's pretty much it. C'mon, let's get you kitted out." I trail after him to the armory and hover in the doorway as he flits about, picking up and discarding weapons as he goes.

"I thought Donovan was gonna brief me?" I tense even though I know Mika won't hit me for questioning him. Old habits die hard.

Mika smirks. "I already briefed you, pup, you know that. Donovan just wanted to send you off properly."

"Oh." I frown and watch him prance around. The armory's pretty big, the right half devoted to the guns lining the walls and tables, the left side to blades of all different types and sizes. There's a work table in the back for the quartermaster so he can repair the weapons if need be. Right now, there's a mostly disassembled handgun on top of the glass.

"Alright, here." I take the three knives and gun he hands me automatically. "Is that good, or do you want another knife?"

I shrug as I strap the knives on. "I'm fine with three." Two of the knives go in my boots, and I set the other one down as I slide on my shoulder holster. It doubles as a knife holster since I can't shoot worth shit with my left hand, but can use a knife just fine with both hands.

Back in the training room, I grab my jacket and slip it on, shrugging to settle it around the holster. I hate wearing concealed weapons, but even though the humans let us do our business our way for the most part, they balk at letting us wave our guns around in public. It makes sense, I guess.

Mika grins. "My baby's all grown up."

My whole body goes stiff. "Am I kitted out to your satisfaction?" I ask, leaning away slightly, and he frowns.

"Reese, you have to chill out sometimes," he says, crossing his arms and taking on his 'I am your trainer and you will obey me' pose. "Can't you take a joke?"

"You … were joking?" Dammit. I can't tell half the time, even with the smiling, because the others always smiled when they tried to trap me so they'd have an excuse to beat me up. Not that they needed an excuse, not really, after I disobeyed Ryan last time.

Mika sighs. "We'll talk about this later, pup. Now go out and kill that damn rogue."

I nod and keep my eyes lowered, just in case. "Yes, sir."

*~*~*

"Clever," I mutter. "Very clever."

The dragon gives me a slow smirk. "You did say to come talk to you after you started killing for them." He's sprawled in a chair across the metal table from me. I glance around the small, stark white interrogation room with some irritation.

"I did, but I didn't mean
right
after," I say. I shift carefully in my own seat and cradle the cup of coffee that was waiting for me when they brought me in here. "I would've liked a shower first, for one." I'm too tired for my words to have any bite, though, and the dragon laughs.

"This was the best way we could get you alone," he says. "I admit, though, we were expecting to have to fabricate some destroyed property as an excuse to bring you in."

I wince. "Feral for one wolf isn't always the same feral as another," I say. "We didn't think he'd be lucid enough to set a trap."

"Will you be okay?" There's a note of something like genuine concern in the dragon's voice, but I ignore it. I pull my coffee closer.

"Yeah. Nothing serious. I've been thrown through storefronts before." He nods, and there's a pause before he visibly changes gears.

"So how're things?" he asks, sing-songy like we're friends.

"Going good," I say and take a sip of my coffee. It burns my tongue, but it's hazelnut, so I don't care. I can feel every single cut and ache from that damn rogue. A few singed taste buds is nothing compared to that. "I'm still training, but I'm pretty sure he'll honor the bid," I continue. "They haven't told me much, but as far as I can gather, they have most of the gangs on the East Coast under their thumb running their spice trade. They take about seventy percent profit from the gangs." I shrug. "Besides that, I know they run protection services, but most of that's bullshit, of course."

"How do the gangs feel about this?"

I snort. "Most of them are pretty happy with the arrangement, but you get the odd couple of people who want to steal from us, and that's taken care of pretty quickly." I shrug again. "Donovan runs a tight ship. No corruption, no unfair treatment. You step of line and you die, but it's a pretty wide line."

"Do you like working for him?" The dragon's voice is soft, and I glare at him.

"That has no bearing on the job," I say flatly. "He's a competent and well-liked alpha, and he's respected within the community. You already know all of this."

"Easy," he says, his tone mocking. "I was just asking." His eyes glitter green for a second, and I drop my gaze.

"I can't tell you much else besides structure, but it's all typical. I haven't met the beta yet, but I've met most of the top-tier enforcers."

"Is the pack happy? Content? Does Donovan have any major rivals?" The dragon's tone is business-like again, and I let out a small sigh.

"The pack is happy and content. They love Donovan, and as far as I can tell, he has no major rivals." I take a too-large sip of my coffee and grimace. "The pack's stable."

"Anything unusual that you've noticed?"

"That they're all stupidly happy?" I growl. "I don't know." I grip the mug tighter. "They have a lot of enforcers. I mean, a lot, at least thirty percent of the pack. They shouldn't need so many, especially since the lower echelons of the business are human, and I get the feeling the alpha's keeping more out of sight for whatever reason. It's excessive." I stare into my coffee and grit my teeth. I have to tell the dragon these things, it's my job.

"And what could they be doing with all these enforcers, I wonder." There's a deliberate note of mocking inquisition in the dragon's voice and I grip the mug tighter.

"Usually, a pack swells its ranks in preparation for a territory war," I say. "After, if the new territory isn't bordering, or if it's large, the new ranks will be relocated to bring that territory to heel."

"Is that what you think is going on here?"

I contemplate my coffee for a long couple of seconds. I haven't been drinking a lot of coffee lately. As a shifter PI, I don't exactly get a lot of business, and most of my money is spent on necessities. With Deepine, though, maybe I can take up the habit again.

What, so you can drop it again when you leave?

"No. Something else is going on," I say quietly. "I don't know what, exactly, and I don't have any evidence. It's just a feeling."

"Alright, then. Thank you for your time, Reese." He stands, and I do, too. "Is there anywhere you'd like us to take you since your motorcycle was, ah, broken?"

"To my shop," I say, even as I decide to go home, my real home. Not that I can let this nosy dragon know that. "I need to wash your scent off me."

He grins. "Sure thing."

*~*~*

I slink into the mansion through the kitchen, ears flat, a low whine building in the back of my throat, and isn't this just pathetic?

The kitchen's empty, thank God. I don't think I could deal with the others when I'm already exhausted from walking here from my shop. I snag a loaf of bread before tip-toeing down the servant hallway, hardly breathing, moving at a glacier speed. Please don't see me, please don't see me, please—

"Reese?"

Damn. Double damn. Of all the people—

"Reese, get your butt in here! I can smell the blood clean on the other side of the mansion, you fool!"

"Coming," I say flatly, trying to keep the growl out of my voice. No sense is digging my grave any deeper.

Coriander's waiting for me in the back foyer, hands perched on her hips, fiery red hair making up for the lack of height, and a fierce scowl on her elfin face, disapproval radiating off her in bursts.

Her eyes widen briefly when she sees me, and I count it as a victory, pathetic as it is. "You should see the other guy."

The joke falls flat and lands on the black marble floor. I trod on it as I shuffle forward to take a seat, just to be sure.

Cori's already got the first aid kit with my name ready on a nearby table. She must not've been kidding about smelling me from the infirmary.

I sigh. That just means that Ryan knows I'm back and that I'm hurt.