Authors: Nicky Charles
Tags: #Romance, #Suspense, #Trilogy, #sequel, #werewolves, #lycans, #General Fiction
Hugh approached
the front door. He’d knock and ask if he could search the backyard.
It would give him a chance to see if Anderson was home. Intent on
knocking, a casual glance in the front window revealed Anderson’s
woman dozing on the sofa. Her head tilted onto the back rest, her
arms were folded and a frown marred her brow even in sleep.
Definitely not a happy home maker; she looked ready to chew someone
out. Anderson? Perhaps... Searching the interior he saw no sign of
movement. The house seemed quiet. Instinct told him Anderson wasn’t
home. He sighed. Now he’d have to go searching out the man’s other
haunts.
He eased
backwards off the step, keeping one eye on the woman inside. She
didn’t stir and he quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Good. No
awkward explanations needed as to why he was looking in her front
window. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should circle
around the house, go in the back way and ‘persuade her’ to reveal
Anderson’s whereabouts. It sounded like fun, but...
A glance over
his shoulder showed someone coming down the street. It was an
elderly woman walking a dog. Damn. He’d better not chance it.
Besides Eddie hadn’t sanctioned any action against the
girl...yet.
Maintaining his
cover, he continued down the block, moving away from the
dog-walking woman and then back up the other side as if searching
for his own pet. When he reached his van, he got back in and
removed his hat. Okay, no Anderson, so now what? He checked the
brief file he’d compiled on the man to see where he should next
look.
Since Hugh had
started at Dollar Niche, he’d made a point of checking out quite a
few of the clients who owed larger amounts. Eddie never bothered,
but Hugh firmly believed in knowing who he was up against. In
Anderson’s case, his research revealed a simple gambler in over his
head, nothing else.
Hugh drummed
his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, then gave a nod.
Anderson had been referred to Dollar Niche by a fellow named Scott.
Scott’s address was on file; he’d go there next. Starting the
engine, he eased away from the curb. Anderson had a meeting to
attend and Hugh intended that he’d keep the appointment.
*****
Kellen stood in
the depressing hallway, his fists shoved into his coat pockets, and
his shoulders hunched. It had to be at least two in the morning and
the chill of the desert air had crept into the building making him
shiver slightly. He hadn’t planned on being here, but Hugh—he shot
a glance at the muscle bound man who stood a few feet away—had been
insistent that he meet with ‘the boss.’ When Hugh insisted, Kellen
suspected few declined. He rolled his shoulder, still able to feel
the impression of Hugh’s fingers there.
He’d been at a
poker game, just as he had been every day for the past three days,
trying to win enough to pay off the huge debt he’d accumulated,
when Hugh appeared. How the man had found him, he didn’t know, but
Hugh claimed to be a representative of Dollar Niche and that Kellen
Anderson’s presence was requested immediately at the office.
So here he was,
waiting to talk to Eddie Perini about the considerable debt he’d
run up. Dollar Niche was basically a loan sharking business that
asked no questions and charged exorbitant interest rates. He hadn’t
set out to borrow money from them, but when a winning streak
suddenly cooled, he’d been desperate for funds so he could stay in
the game. His new friend, Scott, had made a phone call to Dollar
Niche and gotten him a small loan and that’s when the trouble had
started. The game had continued to sour. He’d borrowed more, hoping
to recoup his losses, but the downward slide wouldn’t stop.
Now the people
who ran the business wanted to talk to him about the fifty thousand
he owed. His first week’s payment was due and somehow they must
have discovered he didn’t have enough to cover the amount. Well, it
was just his first installment, he thought hopefully. They wouldn’t
be too rough on him and from what he’d heard, Dollar Niche was one
of the easier establishments to deal with. He thanked his lucky
stars over that one.
Kellen eased
his weight onto his other leg, wondering how long he’d have to
wait. It was getting late and he’d already missed his shift at
work—again. That wouldn’t go over well with Sandy or Mr. Bartlett.
He hoped he could talk the man into giving him another chance.
Sandy would kill him if he lost that job.
Trying to
distract himself, he began reading the various flyers posted on the
wall across from him. Free kittens, religious revivals, used
furniture for sale; it was an eclectic mix. One in particular
caught his attention. It was half hidden under another page that
was advertising cleaning services, but something about the
partially covered colour photograph niggled at him. He stepped away
from the wall, intent on getting a closer look.
“Where are you
going?” Hugh stood up straight and grumbled at him, thick arms
crossed over his chest.
Kellen gave a
lopsided grin and nodded his head towards the wall. “Just looking
at the flyers posted over there. You never know when you might find
something you need. My carpets need cleaning and this seems like a
good deal.”
Hugh grunted
and returned to leaning against the wall in a half dozing
state.
Doing his best
to ignore the man, Kellen lifted the cleaning ad out of the way and
then inhaled sharply. He was staring a picture of Sandy! Blinking,
he studied it carefully, thinking he must be mistaken, but he
wasn’t. It was her—a few years younger possibly—but definitely
her.
Careful to not
attract Hugh’s attention, he scanned the page. Cassandra Greyson.
Missing Heiress. Apparently she’d disappeared about three years ago
and there was a hundred thousand dollar reward for information
leading to her whereabouts. There was a number to contact, too.
He gulped.
Sandy was an heiress? And whoever was looking for her was willing
to pay one hundred grand for information about her. Wow! She must
be worth a fortune if they were offering that kind of money. But if
she was rich, why was she hiding in the Las Vegas suburbs and
working in a grocery store?
Kellen recalled
how he’d found her standing at the edge of an alley looking
confused and utterly lost. She’d been dishevelled and hungry.
They’d had breakfast together and on a whim he’d offered his
apartment as a temporary crash pad. Surprisingly enough, she’d
accepted.
That night,
she’d awoken screaming and once he’d calmed her down, she’d slowly
told him a bit of her story. How she’d seen her uncle killed and
another man murdered. How one of the killers might still be looking
for her. He’d suggested going to the police and she’d been adamant
that she couldn’t. Supposing she’d witnessed some illegal
deal—maybe drugs or arms—and just wanted to start a new life away
from a seedy past, he hadn’t pressed the issue.
Furrowing his
brow, he realized that if she was indeed an heiress, it would
explain why she hadn’t known how to complete even the simplest of
daily tasks. That part had always puzzled him. She hadn’t been able
to cook or clean, had no idea how to do laundry or use public
transit. Now it all made sense. Sandy—Cassandra, he corrected
himself—had likely been raised like a princess in an ivory tower.
He chuckled to himself thinking of how the ‘princess’ had cleaned
his toilet and washed his socks.
Raised voices
broke into his thoughts and he turned towards the source, letting
the cleaning ad fall down over Sandy’s picture. The noise was
coming from the office at the end of the hallway. The door swung
open banging loudly against the wall and a middle-aged man stumbled
out, his face ashen.
“And you better
have the money next week if you know what’s good for you. Dollar
Niche is tired of carrying you along. Pay up or else.” An angry
voice blared out of the office and the man nodded as he backed
away. Turning, he cast a nervous glance at Hugh then gave Kellen a
sympathetic nod before hurrying around the corner out of sight.
Kellen inhaled
deeply and straightened his shoulders. Okay. Yelling and verbal
threats. He could handle that.
Hugh grunted.
“Your turn.”
“Thanks.”
Kellen nodded as he walked past, but Hugh didn’t respond which
wasn’t surprising. Stepping into the office, he looked around
briefly before settling his gaze on the man who was walking around
the desk. The fellow was breathing deeply, as if trying to calm
himself down, which Kellen supposed he was. Yelling that loudly
would tend to work a body up.
Running his
hands through his hair, the man eased down into his chair and
negligently waved a hand at him.
“Mr. Anderson,
I’m Eddie Perini. Please, take a seat.”
Slowly, Kellen
walked towards the chair indicated and sat down, not sure what to
expect. The man before him didn’t look like a mobster. He was
average size, had dull brown hair, wore a rumpled shirt, and needed
a shave. In fact it was hard to believe this mild mannered man was
the person who’d been yelling just a minute ago.
“Forgive the
unpleasantness you overheard just now. Frank—the man who was here
before you—just needed a pep talk to keep him motivated.” Eddie
chuckled and looked pleased with himself.
Kellen nodded
and eyed Eddie warily.
“I’m sure
you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here.”
“The thought
did cross my mind.” Kellen shifted in his seat, not at all sure
what the protocol for this situation might be and not trusting the
calm facade the man was presenting.
Eddie Perini
smiled slightly. “I’m sure it did. You owe us quite a large sum,
Mr. Anderson.”
Kellen winced
and licked his lips nervously before replying. “I know. The first
payment is due tomorrow.” There was no point in denying the truth.
It might make the fellow angry and he’d prefer to remain on the
man’s good side. After all, Eddie did control the blond gorilla in
the hallway known as Hugh.
“And will you
be able to make the required payment?”
“Well...”
Kellen hesitated.
The man raised
his brows. “As I suspected.” He steepled his fingers and peered at
Kellen for a moment before speaking. “Mr. Anderson, I’m not a
violent man. I’m a business man. I lend money for a fee and then
await payment. When payment is made on time, I’m happy and my boss
is happy. When payments are late... Well, it causes distress.”
Not sure what
to say, Kellen gave a slight nod. Eddie continued.
“Normally, I
believe in giving my clients the benefit of the doubt. Most people
are honest and try to pay me back as soon as possible, but not
everyone has the same philosophy as me. My boss for example. He
is...displeased...with the rate of return we are getting on our
investments. As you just heard with Frank, I’ve upped my usual
level of incentives. However, Leon—my boss—doesn’t feel that is
sufficient. He wants me to make an example of someone.”
“An example?”
Kellen didn’t like the turn this conversation seemed to be taking.
He’d watched enough movies to know that ‘examples’ could have their
legs broken, fingers removed, or even be killed. A cold sweat broke
out on his body. Bravery was never one of the qualities he’d
claimed to have. Whenever possible he avoided unpleasantness. This
couldn’t be happening to him!
“Correct. It
upsets me to tell you this, but... you’ve been chosen as the
example.”
“Me?” Kellen
gripped the arms of the chair, his stomach feeling as if it had
dropped to the floor.
“Yes,
unfortunately yours is the name that was picked.”
“But...but...the first payment isn’t even due until tomorrow!”
Kellen leaned forward, pleading his case. Even as he spoke, there
was a buzzing sound in his ears and the room seemed to grow darker.
There wasn’t enough air either. He hoped he wouldn’t pass out.
“Technically,
it’s already tomorrow, but let’s not split hairs. I have a proposal
for you. If you can make your payment on time, I’d have no reason
to use you as my example. Instead, I could report to my boss that
the mere threat was enough to bring you to heel.”
“All right. I
can do that.” Kellen swallowed dryly and nodded in agreement, not
sure how he’d make the payment, but willing to promise anything.
The darkness that had been encroaching on his vision started to
fade and the tightness in his chest eased.
“I was hoping
you’d say that. As you might have guessed, I’m a civilized man.
Carrying out my boss’s instructions with respect to this matter has
little appeal to me, but I will if necessary. Might I ask how you
plan to get the needed funds?”
“Um...” He
wracked his brain. “A friend of mine. She has a lot of money.”
“And this
friend is willing to lend you money now, but she wouldn’t earlier
on?”
Kellen nodded
vaguely thinking that his head must be going up and down like one
of those bobble-headed ornaments on the dash board of a car. “I
didn’t want to bother her.”
He prayed Sandy
would come through for him one last time even though she’d said she
wouldn’t bail him out again. She’d threatened that before, but
always caved in if he begged hard enough. Hopefully she had
sufficient savings in her bank account... Wait. She was an heiress.
Of course she’d have enough money!
A wave of
relief washed over him. Why was he worrying? He relaxed his tense
muscles, a slight smile forming on his lips. Standing up, he cocked
his head to the side and raised a brow, feeling more confident than
he had just a moment ago. “Can I go now?”
“Of course.”
Eddie eyed him with a curious expression. “And Mr. Anderson? I’ll
be sending Hugh to your house around noon.”
Kellen started
to nod, but then stopped himself. Reaching back, he grasped the
door knob. “Sure. That won’t be a problem.”