The Finding (8 page)

“Very well.
Tell Ms. Matthews what's required and she will order it.”

“Very good,
sir.”

“And what about
Mrs. Robinson, my latest nurse?”

“I’ve run a
security and background check on her again, once a week as you
requested. It’s still clean. She’s exactly what she claims to be; a
private nurse, widowed for ten years.”

Aldrich nodded
pleased to learn that the woman who cared for him was as
trustworthy as his gut was telling him she was. His instincts were
seldom wrong about people. “Excellent. She’s very good at her job
and seems content to simply carry out her duties, unlike some of
the other nurses I’ve employed.”

“Very true,
sir.” Swanson kept his face expressionless. “You did seem to have a
string of bad luck with the previous women.”

Rubbing his
chin, Aldrich thought of the previous nurses he’d hired; annoying,
lazy, money-hungry... None had lasted very long. It was nice to
know that finally there was someone suitable filling the position.
Sylvia Robinson was a godsend in his opinion; almost too good to be
true. He allowed a faint smile to curve on his lips as he
considered her before refocussing on the tasks at hand.

“Now, what
about your report on Ms. Matthews? You indicated she had stopped at
a house three weeks ago after leaving the Greyson Estate. Did you
find out who owns the home?”

“It belongs to
Albert Winters. He’s an antique dealer of some renown, though his
methods of acquisition have come under scrutiny at times. However,
nothing has ever been proven against him; just rumours in certain
circles.”

“Indeed.”
Aldrich made a moue, then nodded slowly. “Thank you, Swanson. I’ll
consider this information and then let you know how I want you to
proceed. Dismissed.”

Once the man
left the room, Aldrich leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
The effort required to project his voice and regulate his breathing
made conversation tiring. He reached up, touching his throat where
the tracheotomy tube was situated and adjusted the silk scarf he
used to cover the opening.

Damned
werewolf! He curled his fingers into a fist. The beast had nearly
killed him, but Leon Aldrich was a survivor. Despite having his
throat crushed and his vocal chords mangled, he was still around.
True, he struggled when talking and needed a trach tube to breath,
but it was better than being in a coffin.

Even after
three years, he could still remember the feel of the wolf’s paws
hitting him full force in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
For a brief second, he’d locked eyes with the beast, sensing its
murderous hate. Then, as if in slow motion, he’d reached up and
grabbed at its neck, trying to push it away. His efforts had been
futile. The wolf had possessed unbelievable strength. Its breath
had been hot against his skin just before pain erupted as the
creature sank its teeth into his flesh, snarling and ripping...

Aldrich sat up
straight, shuddering at the memories that still haunted him.
Running a shaking hand over his face, he forced himself to calm
down. He was safe in his self-made fortress. The guards he had
hired did an excellent job protecting him against any threat...
Well, any
human
threat.

Life would be
simpler if he could just inform them to be on the lookout for
werewolf assassins, but of course that wasn’t possible. Should he
ever reveal what he was truly afraid of, he’d be locked up in an
insane asylum so fast his head would spin. No one really believed
in werewolves. Well, no one except himself and the late Anthony
Greyson.

Just before
Greyson’s accidental death, the man had revealed an obsession for
finding a werewolf pack. Now, a lawyer of his repute would normally
have scoffed at the old man’s preposterous idea if it wasn’t for
one simple fact. He, Leon Aldrich, had observed a young woman named
Melody Greene actually turn into a wolf just hours before.

So yes,
he
knew werewolves existed, but he had no proof to
substantiate his claim; the one picture that might have added some
veracity to his story had mysteriously disappeared, much to his
ire. Therefore, keeping his own counsel was the best course at this
point in time. That wasn’t to say he was willing to forget the
whole incident. In fact, he was actively conducting research on the
supposedly mythical creatures; a thorough knowledge of an opponent
always made for the best defence.

That the wolves
would attack again, he had no doubt. Greyson had been babbling
about some werewolf law called the Keeping just before he died.
Since then, carefully sifting fact from fiction had revealed such a
law did exist and called for the elimination of any human who
discovered the truth. With this in mind, Aldrich took every
precaution to keep the beasts at bay. If he now had to live the
life of a recluse, so be it. One day he would triumph over them; he
had plans in place.

A flashing
light caught his eye; he’d had all calls held while he talked to
Swanson. Activating his voice mail, he picked up a pen in
preparation for taking any salient notes.

“Hey, Aldrich!
This is Nate Graham.”

Aldrich
grimaced when he heard the voice, despising the casual manner in
which the man addressed him, but willing to overlook the fact,
since the fellow did seem to be making some progress in
straightening out the mess in Nevada. Narrowing his eyes, he
listened to what the man had to say.

Once the basic
information had been delivered, Nate began his usual whining for
more money. “I’ll get back to you in a few days and let you know
how the situation develops. If you want me to keep working out
here, then you need to finance it. I’m not sitting on a pile of
money like you are. Talk to you later, Aldie.”

“Talk to you
later, Aldie—indeed!” Aldrich shuddered at over-familiarity of the
phrase, but made a notation to have Ms. Matthews take care of the
financial matter. He’d known Nate back when they were both still
little better than street rats. He’d risen above his lowly
beginnings, but Nate continued to swim in the sewer. Ah well, it
took contacts in all kinds of places to keep things running
smoothly and Nate was good at leg work.

Turning his
chair, he accessed his computer and pulled up the Nevada file; a
leftover business venture from his early days. Several times, he’d
considered letting the business go as it no longer suited his
present image, but some quixotic bit of nostalgia had him hanging
on to it. After all, Dollar Niche had been operating successfully
up until Greyson’s death and his own hospitalization.
Unfortunately, about that time, he’d let things slide, thinking the
company was in competent hands. He’d been wrong. A steady drop in
the profit margin had come to light during the last audit and Nate
was investigating the source of the problem. Aldrich had his
suspicions, but knew better than to act without cold hard
facts.

He closed the
Nevada file and turned to the electronic chess game he was playing.
Steepling his fingers, he narrowed his eyes and played out the
possible moves and countermoves he could take. He curled his lip as
he sent out a pawn, knowing he was sacrificing it to save a more
important piece.

Life was rather
like a large chess game, he reflected, only the stakes were a
little higher. In real life, the pawns were people rather than
playing pieces, but they served the same purpose; eventually being
forfeited in order to gain the main prize. And he would gain the
main prize, no matter how many ‘pawns’ he had to sacrifice.

*****

Stump River,
Ontario, Canada...

Bryan sat in
the pack house office completely unaware of the bright sunshine
that streamed in through the window heralding the start of spring.
Nor was he aware of the piles of paper work stacked on the side of
his desk, the half eaten sandwich and now cold cup of coffee.
Instead, he was transfixed by the e-mail displayed before him on
his computer screen. A mixture of excitement and disbelief washed
over him as he finished scanning the text.

“Hey Ryne! Come
look at this!” Bryan called over his shoulder, knowing the Alpha
was in the house somewhere.

A minute later,
Ryne strolled into the room with Mel, his arm wrapped possessively
around her slightly thickened waist. He was nuzzling her neck.
“What’s up?”

Bryan looked at
the two of them; watching as Ryne nipped Mel’s neck and she made an
appreciative noise in her throat.

“Er...did I
interrupt something?”

“Not yet.” Mel
grinned and ran her fingers through Ryne thick black hair, then
trailed them down his chest towards his belt buckle.

The Alpha
growled and clamped his hand over hers. “Behave.”

Tugging at her
hand, Mel tried unsuccessfully to free it. “I can’t help myself;
raging hormones, you know. Besides, it’s your own fault for getting
me pregnant.”

“It had better
be my fault.” Ryne rubbed the slight swell of her belly. “If I ever
found out you’d—”

“Me? You’re the
one who had women draped all over him when we went to that show in
Toronto a few weeks ago!”

“What can I
say? I’m a chick magnet.” Ryne waggled his eyebrows and
smirked.

“A chick
magnet? More like a bit conceited.” Mel finally freed her hand and
stepped away, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“Hey! I’m just
aware of my strong points and as Alpha—”

Mel rolled her
eyes. “Oh, right. How could I forget that whole ‘you’re my supreme
leader’ bit?”

Ryne pulled her
closer and patted her on the head, then spoke in a condescending
tone. “That’s all right, Melody. From what I’ve heard, becoming
forgetful is all part of making baby-brains.”

Bryan groaned
inwardly sensing another one of their infamous arguments. The two
really loved each other, but sometimes...

“So what’s up?”
Ryne quirked an eyebrow at him as Mel sputtered at his side, no
doubt trying to think of a suitable retort.

“It’s about
this e-mail that just came in. I might have some information on
Cassandra Greyson.”

“Really?” Mel
looked at him with interest, apparently forgetting her spat with
her mate. Then just as suddenly, she winced.

Ever vigilant
where his mate was concerned, Ryne immediately looked concerned.
“Are you okay, Melody?”

“I’m fine. The
baby just kicked, I think.” She blushed slightly and then began
backing closer to the door. “I…I think I need to go to the
bathroom.” With that she turned and scurried away.

Ryne watched
her, shaking his head. “Pregnant women seem to live in the
bathroom, and she gets upset about the strangest things.” He
frowned as if trying to fathom the problem, then shrugged and
turned back to Bryan. “So what did you discover about the Greyson
girl?”

Bryan gestured
to the computer screen. “Look at this. A werewolf named Robert
Walker was on vacation in Vegas and thinks he’s found Cassandra
Greyson. He wasn’t able to get any information on her, but he did
take a picture using his cell phone. Does this look like her?”

Ryne leaned
over, bracing his arm on the desk to examine the photo displayed on
the computer screen. It was grainy, but... “Hey, I think that’s
her! Zoom in a bit... Uh-huh... Uh-huh...” A slow smile spread over
his face. “Yeah. I only saw her for a moment, but it looks like the
same girl.” Straightening, he shook his head in obvious amazement.
“If it is her, we’re damned lucky. After all this time, and only
having a description to post rather than an actual picture, it’s
amazing anyone made the connection.” He paused and rubbed his neck.
“This was taken in Las Vegas you said?”

“Yep; in a
grocery store of all places.”

“Hmm... That
could work to our advantage.” Crossing the room, Ryne rifled
through some papers on a shelf, then pulled out a map and spread it
out on his desk. Bryan followed, leaning his hip casually against
the corner of the desk as he stared at a map of North America. It
showed all the packs and their respective territories.

Tapping the map
with his finger, Ryne indicated the area in question. “There are
other packs in the area, but as you can see, Las Vegas is
considered neutral territory. Being a major tourist destination, it
would be too difficult to constantly have wolves reporting in and
signing out. If Cassandra is there, it will be a lot easier for you
to bring her home; no Alphas making you wait while they contact me
for confirmation and no paperwork to be processed, either.”

“And we all
know how efficient you are when it comes to paperwork.” Bryan
quipped, trying to keep a straight face.

“I get the work
done...eventually.” Ryne scowled at him before relenting under
Bryan’s steady gaze. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. Everyone
knew his strength was in leading, not administrative paper-pushing.
“Anyway, paperwork aside; it was a clever place for her to hide.
With visiting wolves leaving their scent everywhere, no one would
pay any attention to one more being in the area.”

“When I went
there to check out the ATM security footage three years ago, I
thought I searched everywhere, but I never checked the suburbs or
the grocery stores. I never pictured a rich girl choosing that as
her hideout.” Bryan chuckled softly. “If this guy hadn’t become
lost while sightseeing and his mate hadn’t made him stop to ask for
directions, we’d probably never have found her.”

Ryne sat down,
folded his arms behind his head and propped his feet on the desk.
“It’s probably one for the record books; an heiress worth millions
of dollars working as a grocery store clerk.” He paused and quirked
one eyebrow. “You know what this means, of course.”

Bryan could
feel his wolf rising inside him, anticipation surging as the beast
strained to be set free. He couldn’t totally suppress the grin that
threatened to spread across his face. “I get to go hunting?”