Page 23 of Understanding Fate

“Thanks for the insight. As soon as my Mate is out of life-threatening situations, I will be happy to kick your ass ina training session,” I respond, intentionally trying to keep my breathing controlled.

I haven’t been running as much, or sleeping as much, or eating as much.

Hell, I’ve barely been existing, taking in any moment I could spend with her and then planning the next one like a love-sick puppy.

Which is precisely what I am.

Head over heels, stupid in love with my Mate.

“Alright, we have one Tristan Miller...” Pres interrupts my thoughts with the information as I shake my head to try and focus on the details. As I make it to the other side of the bridge, the van is still in my sights. “Both have clean records, no pack ties that I can see, and a couple of really adorable kids,” she finishes.

“Thanks. I’m going to need surveillance tapped for The Tam. We’re about four minutes away.

More clicking and the faint rhythm of a bass drop from her office music sound before she speaks again.

“No can do. They’re old school, old school. No cameras. No internet. They don’t even take virtual payments or cards. Cash only. I can do some digging on ownership, but if I were betting, this place is owned by one of us, so we're probably out of luck there, but fortunately, so is everyone else.”

I make a mental note to ask Jess if she knows anything about this place when I get there.

She left from the airport to greet her old Alpha and give our regards. He knew we were coming and requested her specifically. She texted just before Bri wandered out looking for Ghost, letting me know we have two additional rooms at Carter’s hotel. I told her to stand by and ensure she didn’t recognize anyone in the area.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I ask Pres as I spot the dive bar ahead and see Tristan and Brielle exiting the van out front.

“Report went out today about a fire in a Boston building,” she says.

“And this is relevant because…” I ask, slowing my stride as I approach.

“It seems the building belonged to Fallon Industries, a shell company for several other businesses. It hasn’t existed on paper ever, and I have only heard of it from finding transcripts from the Fallon investigation run by the LLC.”

“Someone torched it? Was anyone inside?” I ask, slowing my stride to finish the conversation before entering the busy bar.

“Three sets of remains were found inside. None of them have been identified yet. They are calling it an accident, faulty wiring,” she adds.

“Well, keep me posted. We know at least one person with a reason to burn that organization to the ground. It sounds like he’s been busy,” I say, finishing the call.

Chatter assaults my ears as I enter the Tam. It’s bustling with professionals just off work, and I have to intentionally breathe through my mouth to block out the mix of heavy perfumes and colognes that overpower the musty space.

I spot Bri and her friend waiting in the middle of the bar, and I work to slide behind them without attracting Bri's attention. Carefully, I move to the end of the bar and pat Carter on the back in a friendly hello so I fit in with the crowd.

He introduces me to Nyxon, and I notice how similar Nyxon looks to his sister Jess: almond-shaped eyes, inky black long hair and lashes, and golden-touched skin. He wears a skeptical expression that would instantly tell me they are related. While she leans into her petite stature and uses it to heradvantage, Nyxon stands at least six inches taller than she is and leans against the bar in a way that tells me he can fight.

His weight is evenly distributed, his hands are free to move, and his back is against the wall to protect himself.

“She got here just before you did,” Carter says, nodding and nursing the beer in front of him. Typically, drinking on the job would mean a lecture, but given the environment, not drinking or appearing to would stand out, so I understand his choice.

It takes us a lot more to be impaired than humans anyway with our tolerance levels.

“Anyone else drop in?” I ask, hinting at Ghost but leaving it open in case other players are in the room.

“Not yet,” Carter answers before Nyxon speaks.

“Bartender is Henry. He’s pack,” he says quietly, nodding toward the bald, bearded man on the far end of the bar. “Charlie owns this place. Lone wolf. He has no pack ties but has been granted permission to operate since his family left him the bar. We make sure to have at least one pack member on staff to stay in the know here. I spoke with Henry, and there was some chatter about the contract last night around closing, but there has been nothing since he got on shift today.”

I nod, scanning the room and watching the interactions of the patrons. My focus never strays far from Brielle, and her laugh draws my eyes back to her in time to see a man with his back to me slide a drink in front of her.

Mine.

A growl escapes my throat before I can stop it, and both Nyxon and Carter whip their heads in my direction. I grip the bar, physically holding myself in place.

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