Page 13 of The Alpha's Grave Secrets

“Okay,” Hati says, eyeing me like he’s waiting for the rest of the information. When I say nothing else, he sighs. “There’s a late-night diner around the corner. Why don’t we go get a bite and some coffee and debrief?”

I nod, and before I can say anything else, Bruce and Gun are already heading to the door. They must have been listening to our conversation with their shifter enhanced hearing.How many others in this bar were doing the same?

The diner’s bright, fluorescent lights and turquoise vinyl booths has a completely different vibe than the bar. I wonder how many others stumble out of the dark, cozy speakeasy and head down the street, drunk and hungry, only to be accosted by the diner’s brightness and decor. Still, the coffee is strong, and the food is cheap. I can’t ask for much else from a diner that’s open 24/7.

My phone dings as I shove a quarter of a club sandwich into my mouth. Still chewing, I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through the messages.Goddess, Minna is good.

“Lay it on us, what did Minna find?” Hati says, putting his spoon back in his bowl of soup.

“Jackson Hughes has multiple arrests for domestic violence, he is a regular at the bar, doesn’t appear to have any sort of legitimate career or source of income. He was raised by a single mother who worked constantly to make ends meet, although now his mother is extremely mentally ill and is under care at a facility that Jackson pays the bills for.”

Bruce lets out a low whistle, and for once, Gun doesn’t have any smart comments to make. He just raises his eyebrows and takes another bite of his cheeseburger.

“Did she send a home address?” Hati asks.

“You know she did,” I offer a half smile. “Why don’t you and Gun go check out the house and see if it’s a viable place to hold the victims?”

“I was hoping you might say that” Hati nods and then returns to his soup.

“What? I don’t have enough muscle to talk to the big scary guy at the bar?” Gun smirks.

“Between you and Bruce?” I motion between the two, “Absolutely not.”

By the time Bruce and I return to the bar, Jackson Hughes is posted up at his usual booth in the corner just like the bartender said he would be. A few of the men and women sitting with Jackson’s eyes widen slightly as they look over Bruce.

It’s obvious that no one had the same reaction to me. I’m a big guy, but next to Bruce? I’d wager I look like a schoolboy.

“Jackson Hughes?” I ask like it’s a question as if I hadn’t already seen his mugshots half an hour before this.

“Who’s asking?” Jackson says, setting his jaw tight.That’s a good one; I haven’t heard that before.

“Agent Blackwood,” I say, flashing my badge.

“What do you want?” Jackson asks, sounding more annoyed that I’m interrupting his night than nervous about why I might want to talk to him.

“Do you know any of these women?” I ask, pulling out the photos of the women the bartender indicated had previously had a problem with Jackson.

“I’ve seen them, pretty girls, I make it my business to remember pretty girls.” Jackson shrugs and pushes the photos back toward me. “I haven’t seen them for a while though.”

“That’s because they are dead,” I say, watching Jackson closely.

“Damn shame for the world to lose skirts like that before they get wrinkly.” I suppress a shudder.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself here,” Bruce grumbles.

“I don’t need to. I didn’t do anything to them,” he chuckles and takes a big swig of his beer.

“Is there anyone who can corroborate that for you?” I ask, although as much as I want to punch him right in his smug face, I get the sense that he’s actually telling the truth.

“I am never alone,” he smirks. “I’m sure you’ll get your dates in line and ask around. In the meantime, you’re really killing the vibe tonight. Last time I checked, it’s not illegal to hit on a woman, so unless I’m under arrest, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

Bruce and I nod at one another and step away from the table without saying another word to Jackson.

“The guy’s a piece of work, but I don’t think he’s our man. We’ll have to see what Hati and Gun found, but right now, I’d say focusing on him would be a waste of time.”

“I’m right there with you,” I sigh. It would have been much easier had Jackson been our guy.

On our way out of the bar, we are distracted by a commotion between a young woman who had thrown a drink on a man and a man with his hand raised, only inches away from the woman’s face. A security officer’s arm is hooked around the man’s raised arm.

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