Warhead (Blue-Eyed Bomb Book 4) Page 4

  “Shit…”

  “Muses is with the Southsiders now,” Nico said. “If there’s anything to find out about the murder, he’ll know soon.”

  “And the war?” I pressed. “Message him so he can ask about that, too.”

  “I will.” Nico turned away just as Alek walked in with the Fates.

  We quickly got them up to speed. Unfortunately, they had nothing new to add to our suspicions. So we waited to hear from Muses, to see if he could unravel the mystery surrounding Quinn’s death and those that had caused it.

  It wasn’t long before we had our answer. Muses walked through the sliding door, looking more tired than usual. My guess was that he’d ‘inspired’ a lot of minds that night, and none of them had given it up easily. I also guessed that he hadn’t found anything helpful because he wasn’t covered in blood—and he hadn’t called for reinforcements.

  “Well?” Nico prompted, rushing over to Muses.

  “Well what?” he replied, the edge in his voice uncharacteristic to say the least. “Your information is bad. Not one of the many minds I questioned knew anything about a pack war.”

  “The information came from the victim,” I said. His suspicious gaze slid to me. “That’s what he told me, and he was very clear about it.”

  “Then maybe that’s what his killer wanted him to think.”

  “But why? They don’t know of my gifts. Why put on an act for someone about to die anyway?”

  “Perhaps your abilities have been leaked by the lone wolf you trust so blindly.”

  “Jenkins?” My voice was at least an octave higher than normal and full of shock. “No way. He’d never rat me out, if for no other reason than he knows that would get him killed—by you.”

  “What if you questioned the wrong pack?” Cy suggested. “Maybe we’re overlooking the possibility that Charlotte and the others are behind this war the dead warlock said is coming.”

  “She is hardly in a position to start a war,” Muses countered.

  Cy stepped closer. “And you and I have both been around long enough to know that beings in weaker positions than the Northside pack have started worse. Go to her and check.”

  Muses’ eyes narrowed. “Is that an order? Because last time I checked, I don’t take those from you.”

  The two stared at each other for a moment, the tension ratcheting up by the second until Ferris, the voice of reason incarnate, stepped in.

  “It would be wise not to overlook this possibility,” he said calmly. “I could discuss it with Sean first, if you’d prefer—see what he wants you to do.”

  Without a response, Muses headed back out the door he’d only just entered through, presumably to do as Cy had said and question the Northsiders. Apparently, the thought of my father giving him the order was more than he could handle. My dad was my creepy uncle’s Achilles heel.

  The Fates followed him, my brothers not far behind. Nico was spoiling for a fight, and I was worried that if one didn’t present itself, he’d start one just to satisfy his frustration-driven anger. I wasn’t the only hothead in the family.

  “I’m going to bed,” I said, headed for the stairs to my room. “Come get me if it’s time to kick some ass.”

  “Do you think it’s them?” TS asked, following me across the room. “The Northsiders?”

  I stopped by the door and turned to face him. “I guess we’ll know soon enough. And if not, then I need to get some sleep so I can be extra sharp at the bar tomorrow. Someone there has to know something. I just need to get them drunk enough to spill it.”

  He gave a tight nod. “Go rest. I’ll wake you if we’re needed.”

  Chapter Six

  The call for our aid never came.

  I awoke sometime in the afternoon, mildly hung over, and got ready to go to the bar. I needed to get information on Quinn’s death, and I knew the place would be buzzing with the news of his murder. I just needed to be there to discern fact from fiction—knowledge from speculation.

  It was slower at the bar that night than I’d expected, and there wasn’t a soul talking about Quinn. It was as if nothing had happened. Hours went by without so much as a mention of the dead warlock. But then something happened; something much more surprising. I recognized Charlotte the moment she walked into the bar. She’d left quite an impression the two times I’d seen her previously, the first when TS had romanced her for information about her mate, and the second the night her mate had tried to claim me. She’d been far from friendly.

  I didn’t have high hopes.

  She walked past the bar and cast me a pointed glare before disappearing into the back room. I quickly abandoned my post and followed her to Jenkins’ office. By the time I arrived, she was already pleading her case.

  “Jenkins,” she said, placing her hands on the stack of papers on his desk. The bright white of them contrasted her warm brown skin. “The Northsiders didn’t have anything to do with that warlock’s—”

  “Quinn—”

  “—death.”

  “His name was Quinn,” Jenkins repeated, standing to face her. “He was a good kid trying to do me a favor—trying to make sure your boys didn’t do something stupid to bring the PC down on us all—and they killed him for it.”

  “Not my boys,” she said, steel in her voice and her spine. “I told the PC that when they came last night, and now I’m telling you the same.”

  “I hope for your sake that’s true,” I said, stepping around her to join Jenkins. “I’ve heard the PC have members who can smell a lie from miles away. It’d be unfortunate for you if one of them lives in Chicago—or maybe they’d call him in just to get to the bottom of this.”

  To Charlotte’s credit, she didn’t flinch at my words. Her energy didn’t spike at all. It almost made me believe her.

  Almost.

  “I see you’ve manage to sink your hooks into yet another male in town already,” she said, shifting her deep brown stare to me.

  “You mean like your dead mate tried to sink his into me at his party?”

  At that, she bristled. “I couldn’t always account for Alejandro’s taste…”

  “Must be nice to be free of him, then?”

  “We have the Southsiders to thank for that,” she said under her breath before she turned her attention back to Jenkins. “That’s why I came here tonight—because I need your help, Jenks.”

  Jenks, not Jenkins. Guess they were friendlier than I thought.

  “Help with what, Char? I’m not getting in the middle of this shit between you and the Southsiders. I’ll deal with it if you’re in my territory, but not beyond that. You know the agreement—I don’t plan on changing it anytime soon.”

  “I know that,” she said, leaning further over the desk, “but just hear me out. This affects you whether you like it or not.”

  Judging by the tension in his jaw, he most definitely did not. I tried to quell my rising fear as the words spoken to Quinn in my vision rang like a warning through my mind: Pretty soon he’ll be doing what we ask…

  “Spill it, Charlotte.”

  She took a deep breath and obeyed his order as though he were her alpha. Whether it was her desperation or the commanding energy that rolled off him in that moment, I couldn’t tell. But it damn sure made me wonder…

  “Rogan is going to make a move on us—I know it.”

  “How do you know?” Jenkins asked, giving nothing away.

  “He called me the day after Alejandro was murdered—offered to claim me before I’d even had a chance to go down to the morgue and officially identify the body.”Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but I felt no sorrow from her—only anger. Maybe Charlotte and I dealt with our feelings the same way. “Obviously, I told him to go fuck himself—which, in hindsight, might not have been the best idea ever—and now he’s gunning for us.”

  “No offense, Charlotte, but shooting him down and hurting his toxic male pride is hardly enough to go to war over.”

  Again, those dark brown e
yes slid to mine, and the depths of rage I saw in them gave me pause.

  “He isn’t butthurt because I turned him down—”

  “He wanted to join the packs,” Jenkins said, putting two and two together.

  Charlotte looked at him and nodded. “And now he’s going to try to take it.”

  “Or kill you all in the process.”

  “I’m not too proud to say that losing Alejandro was a huge hit to our pack,” she said, her hard expression falling. Vulnerability painted her in a softer light, making her look younger than I’d thought she was. For a moment, I pitied her. Mom had always talked about how difficult it was for female wolves, mated, lone, or otherwise. The hopelessness in Charlotte’s eyes as they beseeched Jenkins for something not yet verbalized only validated the truth in my mother’s words. “We need your help, Jenks…”

  “What do you want me to do, Charlotte? Give them a pep talk? Help them devise a plan to deal with Rogan and his boys? Who’s your second now?”

  “Erikson,” she said. The lack of confidence in her tone as she said his name spoke volumes.

  “What about Christian?” She shook her head. “Sammy?” Another shake. “Andrew?”

  “They’re all too busy infighting to be of any use. It’s literally all I can do to keep the peace among us right now.” Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I’m in charge by right, but I’m no alpha.”

  “You’ve got to pick one of them, Charlotte. It’s the only way.”

  At that, she scoffed. “The four of them combined couldn’t hold a candle to Alejandro’s power, and you know it.”

  Yeah, because he had been magically juiced up with a dead witch’s power. I couldn’t help but wonder if the infamous Rogan had a talisman too; one that made him overconfident that he could walk right in and take over the Northside pack.

  Jenkins’ lack of rebuttal was not comforting. I guess Quinn had been right after all. War was coming to Chicago.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, shrugging slightly. “There’s nothing I can do. Rogan won’t listen to me. He may agree to me holding neutral ground, but we’re hardly friends. And after everything that happened with Murph and the fight club…well, let’s just say we’re not on speaking terms.”

  Charlotte nodded slowly, as though he’d just reminded her that he’d killed Murph, Rogan’s former second, in a friendly off-book fight gone wrong. A freak accident was what the PC had deemed it, and thanks to Jenkins’ reputation, the community seemed to have accepted it. It helped that the circumstances surrounding Alejandro’s death were far more mysterious and thus better fodder for rumor. But Rogan surely didn’t overlook what Jenkins had done, and judging by the look on the lone wolf’s face, he knew it.

  “I don’t need you to talk to Rogan,” she said, walking around the opposite side of the desk from me. She stopped at his other side and took his hands in hers. “I want you to join us—to lead us. Alejandro told me once that—”

  “Alejandro was crazy and delusional and drunk on magic most of the time, and you damn well know it. Whatever he said, or whatever it is you think I can do for you, I can’t, okay? Just drop it.” He yanked free of her hold and circled behind me to head for the office door. He held the knob for a moment, working hard to control his breathing. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I really am. If I thought I could do something to help that wouldn’t cause more harm than good, I’d do it, but I can’t. And you need to go…”

  “I know you’re a True Born,” she blurted out before rushing to his side. “I’ve heard stories about—”

  “And that’s all they are, Charlotte—stories.” He took her arm and ushered her through the door. He didn’t stop until he was past the back door and well into the alley. “You should get home before something happens to you. I’m not so sure my territory is safe anymore…”

  I looked on as her hands balled into fists and tears once again welled in her eyes.

  “We need you, Jenks…what kind of fucking alpha are you?”

  I felt his energy flinch at her words even though his hardened expression stayed put.

  “The kind that knows when to walk away.”

  He turned on his heel and walked back into the bar, not even looking at me as he stormed past. Charlotte, however, stared, so many emotions raging through her at once that I couldn’t pin any of them down.

  “He’ll get caught in the crossfire,” she said, voice low and full of warning. “If you care about him at all, make him see reason.”

  I swallowed hard. “You made your choices. He’s made his.”

  Like Jenkins, I turned and walked into the back of the bar. The door slammed tight behind me, shutting out the female wolf in a bad situation.

  Something about that felt so very wrong.

  Chapter Seven

  Jenkins holed up in his office for the rest of the night, and despite my family’s insistence that I never knew when to walk away, I left him alone while question upon question brewed in my mind. I knew what a True Born wolf was—a wolf born of two werewolves, both alphas—but as far as I knew, they were more legend than real. From what my parents and Uncle Cooper had told us, the circumstances they were born into didn’t lead to longevity. Alpha males, like so many animal species, were threatened by power. The offspring rarely if ever made it to their Change.

  And that made Jenkins’ existence an absolute mystery to me, if he was in fact what Charlotte claimed.

  By closing, the tension from earlier that evening had dissipated somewhat, thanks to Mikey’s shenanigans. At least the kid was good for entertainment, since he was zero help with carrying boxes. I stacked as many as I could in my arms and headed past Jenkins’ office to the bar. I couldn’t see around the towers of liquor balanced in my hands to open the door.

  “Yo, Jenks!” I shouted. “A little help here!”

  The lone alpha werewolf sauntered out with zero sense of urgency. Yeah, I had supernatural strength, but a box way up on the stack was slipping, and unless he wanted a few hundred dollars’ worth of booze all over his floor, he needed to grab it quick.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked, lifting the sliding box off the pile. “Or are you practicing for clown school?”

  “Isn’t this the circus?” I deadpanned, followed by a little hummed theme music. He glared down at me over the remaining boxes in my arms.

  “Cute.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  His brow furrowed. “No. Not always.”

  “Paperwork’s going that well, huh? Did you forget to pay your taxes again?”

  “No. I’m a little preoccupied with something else,” he said, and I didn’t need three guesses to know what.

  “Are we gonna talk about that?” I asked, setting the bottles down next to the stockroom door.

  “Talk about what?” Mikey called from the stockroom. Seconds later, his head popped out. Michael, aka Big Balls and Little Perv, was Jenkins’ pseudo-adopted teenager—the one whose mother had been deported. As much as I loved to give him shit, he was a good kid and a hard worker, if not a little too intent on talking to my boobs instead of my face. Jenkins helped pay for his apartment and gave him a job at the club, paying him under the table. The kid was a fixture at the bar and a nonstop source of entertainment in a multitude of ways.

  But he didn’t really know who and what we were, and that was a secret that needed to be kept at all costs.

  “Pervy teenagers too busy talking to actually do their jobs,” I said, shooting him a scathing look. He didn’t buy it for a second and soon joined our conversation in the hall.

  Did I mention he was really hard to deter?

  “Is something wrong?” he asked Jenkins, ignoring me entirely (except for a quick peek at my chest). “Did something happen tonight?”

  Yes.

  “No,” Jenkins and I said in unison.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he continued. “I’ve just got a lot going on…”

  “Can I help somehow?” Mikey asked, his voice so earn
est.

  “No, man. You do enough already. If you want to, finish stacking these boxes, then you can head home for the night. It’s late, and you have that history test tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I already studied. I can stay if you need me.”

  “Really, it’s fine. Finish up and then get outta here.”

  The tall dark-haired boy turned to me, his warm brown eyes searching mine for whatever I was holding back.

  “Are you leaving soon, Phira? Want me to walk you out?”

  I opened my mouth to fire some smart remark about that being more for his safety than mine, then snapped it shut. Big Balls had been there to intervene when a particularly insistent private investigator had been all up in my face one day, and he had kept me from doing something I surely would have regretted. Maybe he wasn’t the white knight I needed in the way he assumed, but he was more helpful than I liked to give him credit for.

  “I’ll be here for a while still. Just say goodnight before you leave, okay?”

  His serious face melted away, replaced by a shit-eating grin. “You gonna give me a kiss before I go?”

  “I’m gonna knock your front teeth out if you keep looking at me like that.”

  His smile vanished and he mumbled something in Spanish as he disappeared into the stockroom. Jenkins laughed and shook his head.

  “You’re going to destroy the poor kid’s confidence, Phira.”

  I shrugged. “Some bitchy girl is going to. Might as well be me. At least I care about him.”

  “I’m not sure he knows that…”

  “Tough love is the name of the game when it comes to Mikey,” I said loudly enough for the teen to hear me. “He needs it.”

  More Spanish mutterings escaped the stockroom.

  “I don’t think he appreciates it very much.”

  I let out a laugh. “He will one day—I promise.”

  “I’m heading out.” I looked up from behind the bar to find Michael heading for the door. “Unless you changed your mind about that kiss…?”