Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) (30 page)

“Someone has been reading up on divorce law,” Marcello murmured.

“I thought that was obvious, Marcello.”

“It’s already been handled, Sean. A warrant for Idette’s arrest for attempted murder, kidnapping, and an assortment of other crimes, including aiding and abetting criminals escaping prison was issued months ago. For all intents and purposes, you’re a free man. If you’re not comfortable going back to your house, we can arrange a hotel instead.”

I considered it but sighed and shook my head. “I should pick some things up first. I’ll think about it. I want to grab my copy of the deed and look it over to see if I can sell it without requiring Idette’s signature.”

“Already done. We take care of our own, Sean. We were a little surprised the deed was only in your name. You’re free and clear to sell your house if you want, and considering the charges against Idette, you won’t owe her a dime once the divorce is finalized—which will be as soon as a guilty verdict is handed down.”

“I bought the house before we were married. She didn’t want her name on the mortgage. She was worried about her credit.” I laughed, marveling at how much things had changed.

Idette had pressured me for a lot of things over the years, but the house had been one of the few things she hadn’t challenged. California law protected divorcing spouses unless one was charged and proven guilty of assault, attempted murder, and an assortment of other crimes.

I owed her nothing.

Marcello grabbed a drumstick and pointed it at me. “Unbelievable. Anyway, almost everything has been taken care of. We have copies of all the filings for you, some of which require your signature, but we can deal with that next week. The Inquisition has some leeway with how documentation is handled with the government. It’s Andrea’s specialty. Here’s a tip for you. If Andrea is handling a case, the Inquisition is involved somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Andrea is their ace in the hole. You’re not going to like this, but there’s no point in hiding it from you. When they want a case to go a certain way, they send Andrea in to bat. Don’t let her fool you, Sean. She’s a wicked little bitch, and you’re not the only one she’s good at manipulating. When the Inquisition puts her on a case, you can count on her to be either stealthily throwing the defense or putting up so solid a wall not even you could bust it down.”

The airport to airport transfer went off without a hitch, and I was home by noon, regretting my decision to return. Wearing a brace to give the illusion of recovering from a broken leg only soured my mood further. The weight of my entire adult life crashed down on me, and no matter where I turned, I saw the evidence of Idette’s presence in my life. Her scent clung to everything, so strong I could barely detect my scent under hers.

I was so, so tempted to light a match and watch the whole thing burn.

Marcello’s scent, along with Dan’s, Ramirez’s, and a few others my wolf identified as pack, lingered in my office and other places I frequently occupied. Several suitcases, replacements for the ones likely held in evidence somewhere in New York, waited in the bedroom.

I had no reason to stay, which made it easier to pack my suits. Dry cleaning floated to the top of my list of things to do. With a clearer understanding of what I meant to Andrea, I understood her scowls a lot better.

My clothing reeked of Idette’s scent, although the cinnamon signature of her Fenerec nature was masked by the acrid bite of my wife’s—ex-wife’s—annoyance, which in turn was blended with the sour odor of illness.

I didn’t understand the nature of Idette’s illness, and it bothered me I didn’t really care. Three months of my life were gone, spent trapped with Idette, on the run, or hunting and obeying the demands of my spirit beasts’ instincts. I had left for New York in the autumn.

Winter in California wasn’t very cold compared to other places in the United States, but I was aware of the dip in the temperature outside. My wolf was especially aware of it, and he had certain ideas of what I should be doing with my time instead of wasting it in a house I no longer wanted.

He wanted a proper den, and he found the house I had shared with Idette as displeasing as I did. Selling the property had never crossed my mind before my return to Los Angeles, even when I struggled with the desire to divorce Idette and get on with my life.

I finished stuffing the suitcases full of suits, shirts, and ties, and headed to my office to take the first step in cutting away every connection to my old life so I could start fresh.

It began with finding a real estate agent. I considered approaching one of my clients. Over the years, I had represented quite a few real estate agents. One man came to mind.

His situation, with a few exceptions, hadn’t been much different from mine. The change in California law helped the victims of domestic violence escape their partners without facing financial ruin as a result. A fifty-fifty split of assets no longer applied when a spouse was found guilty of assault against their partner.

Soon enough, I’d experience the process for myself.

It took a long time for me to work up the courage to call the number on Kevin Weston’s card. I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, kicking my feet up on my desk.

Someone had closed the office curtain while I had been gone, blocking my view of the back yard. I wondered who had taken the pictures of me during the Roberts trial. In a way, I hoped I would never know and the problem would go away.

“Kevin speaking,” my former client answered.

“Hey, Kevin. It’s Sean Scott. How are you?”

“Damn, Sean. It’s good to hear from you. I saw the news. What can I do for you?”

I grimaced, wondering just how much publicity my disappearance had gotten. “I’m looking to sell my property and need an agent. You were the first person I thought of, so I thought I’d give you a ring.”

“Let’s get together and talk, then. When is good for you?”

“I’ve got a pretty open schedule right now. I go back to work on Monday, but I can probably make time even after I return to the office.”

“If you’re free now, I can head over and get a look at the house.”

“Now’s good,” I replied, tapping Kevin’s business card on my desk. I gave him the address, and after exchanging a few more pleasantries, I hung up. Aware Ramirez probably had someone watching my house, I dug her business card out of my wallet and called her cell.

“Ramirez,” she answered after the third ring.

“Scott. A friend of mine is coming over to my place in a bit, and I thought your cops would like to know if they’re prowling around.”

“Thanks for letting me know. You settling in okay?”

I snorted. Okay wasn’t the word I’d use for my state of mind, but I wasn’t quite ready to confess my mood. “I’m all right.”

It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.” I hung up, setting the phone in its cradle. I waited for Kevin, wondering what sort of life I’d make for myself when the dust finally settled.

When I had represented Kevin Weston, the weight of stress had burdened his shoulders, leaving him a tired, middle-aged man out of his prime. The months had done him good. There were no longer any shadows marking his dark eyes, and he had a ready smile when I met him at the door.

“You’re pretty good on your feet for a man with a broken leg,” he said, arching a brow at me. “I was expecting at least crutches.”

I stuck out my left leg and pulled up my slacks to show off my brace. “Reporters. They don’t have anything better to do than crow about other people, do they? I’ve graduated from crutches to this thing. I won’t be winning any races for a while, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I bet. No kidding about the reporters. The instant they figure out you’re back in town, you’re going to be swarmed,” Kevin warned.

I grimaced. “Wonderful. Come on in. I want to give you free rein so you can sell the place off quick. The sooner it’s gone, the happier I’ll be.”

“This is a nice place,” my former client murmured, taking his time as he explored my house. “Selling it isn’t going to be a problem. Selling it for a price you’re happy with might be, though.”

“I owe about fifty thousand on the mortgage,” I replied, following Kevin as he toured the house. “Roof was done three years back, furnace and air conditioning systems are new. There are solar panels on the roof, and the electrical box was updated four years back. I have wiggle room. I’d rather get a little less and have the place gone rather than deal with it staying on the market longer.”

“It’ll sell, and I’m pretty sure I can get you a good price. Good location. Not quite a mini mansion, but close enough. The real issue is the mortgage. Are there any cosigners?”

I saw the question for what it was, and fighting to keep my expression neutral, I shook my head. “Deed and mortgage are in my name only. There won’t be any problems there.”

“Good. I have research I need to do, but I’ll get back to you tonight with recent sales in the area and give you a ballpark on what you can expect to sell for. We can sign the initial agreements and get a posting up as early as tomorrow.”

Tomorrow was better than I was hoping for, and I allowed myself a grim smile. “Sounds good.”

“Normally, we set up lockboxes for the keys, but I think in this case, I won’t allow any agents to show the place without me or one of my associate agents present. I’ll see if I can get private showings only. I have the feeling an open house would bring more trouble than either of us want.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for the help, Kevin.”

His smile was as grim as mine. “I owe you a lot, Sean. Helping you sell your house is the least I can do.”

“Don’t even think about skimping on your commission, either.”

He laughed. “I’ll think about it all I want, and you can’t stop me. I’ll bring some interesting listings with me tonight along with the regular paperwork. We’ll see if I can find you a place you’ll like.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The police watching my house would probably hate me for leaving without telling anyone where I was going, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. If they shadowed me downtown to watch me have dinner and discuss options with Kevin, I didn’t really care. I needed out of my house before I snapped.

Thanks to the Inquisition, I had my credit cards back, they had all been updated to new numbers, and Idette had been removed from all of our joint accounts. I had no idea who had covered my balances, but when I found out, I’d pay them back from my savings, which had remained untouched during my disappearance.

The restaurant Kevin chose was a quiet Italian place in the heart of the city, and he had acquired a quiet table tucked in a corner. “Glad you could make it, Sean.”

“Parking was a bit of a bitch, but when isn’t it?” I sat, dumping my briefcase on the chair beside me. “I hope you didn’t inconvenience yourself.”

“Not at all. I had nothing planned tonight. Apparently all of the sane single women didn’t receive the memo I’m an eligible bachelor.” Kevin grinned and placed a folder in front of me. “If the ladies at the office are to be believed, you’re a hot number. My secretary noticed I was making a file for you, asked if it was for
the
Mr. Scott, the trial lawyer fellow, and when I confirmed it, well, I’ve never seen her move so fast in my life.”