Page 62 of Scarred Resolve

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

As night approached, Heath was considering what to order for delivery to make sure he ate dinner when he got a call. Hoping it was good news, he lunged for his phone. However, seeing an unknown number wasn’t the good omen he had hoped for. It was decidedly a bad omen.

Damn it. Please don’t be the Portland Alpha, whatever that guy’s name is. I don’t need the problems right now.

“Heath Everson speaking. Who is this?” Heath demanded, not bothering to try hiding his own identity.

“Frank Moore. We spoke earlier. My clients want to speak to you against my counsel.”

“I don’t want to meet your clients. They’ll either accept the money or they won’t,” Heath said with a huff as he sat down and stared at the ceiling in frustration.

“They are very uncomfortable with accepting money from a stranger, donation or not.”

“That’s their problem, not mine.”

“They thought you might be wary, but they wanted me to say something…” There was some paper shuffling around on a desk, meaning Frank was still in the office. An unlikeable asshole likehim was obviously at the office late instead of going home to an empty condo or house because he didn’t have anyone to hook up with tonight. Heath saw it all the time. He’d had a phase similar some decades ago, much to his regret.

Maybe I’m judging him too harshly because I’m in a bad mood… Oh, well.

“Have you found it?” Heath snapped, tired of waiting after only a minute.

“Ah, uh…” Another thirty seconds passed. “There it is. They want me to say, word for word, ‘We already know why this donation is happening. We want to meet who is making the donation.’”

Heath sat up straight. His cover story was used by a lot of werewolves, but if these humans actually knew the cover story, they wouldn’t care to speak to him. They would take the money. They knew more. They knew the real reason werewolves anonymously gave money when someone passed. They had to.

Fuck. They aren’t involved with any supernaturals the BSA could catch, but they are involved with someone.

“I’ll be willing to meet them, but only if it’s convenient to where I’m staying.” Heath needed to be able to get to the meeting spot and back without being in the open for too long.

“There’s a café near my office that stays open late, not even a block away, if that’s okay with you. I can tell them that you’ll meet them there. I won’t be at the meeting.”

“Send me the address, and I’ll be there shortly.”

“I will, but let me see when they’ll be available before you head out,” Frank said. “I’ll send the details.”

With that, Heath hung up and waited for the text. It came through in less than a minute, but it only had the address he needed and the names of the two people he would be meeting, with the meeting time to be determined. He didn’t like this, but he would go. He didn’t receive a meeting time for another thirtyminutes. He checked the clock and frowned at the late hour. It was already eight. They wanted to meet at nine. At night. Not in the morning. They wanted this meeting soon but probably weren’t available at that exact moment.

He had one hour to get ready and started immediately.

Heath reached for his bag and pulled out his only line of defense. He’d carried it earlier but hadn’t given it any thought because he was dealing with humans outside of the supernatural world. Now, he put on the holster and made sure his handgun was ready for anything. He had silver loaded, but he had magazines for both traditional ammunition and silver, so he could deal with whoever might give him any problems. He brought all of his ammunition, two magazines of each type.

He also texted Landon and Teagan, telling them each something different. For Landon, he explained that the humans were connected with the supernatural and wanted a meeting with him. He was going in armed and cautious, and Landon now knew the names of those he was supposed to meet just in case his son had to get involved. To Teagan, he ordered that the entire donation be frozen until he clarified some things with the families. It was a soft lie for the werewolf lawyer, who would see through it but not question the order or get nosy about what was happening. Last, he decided to send a text to Jabari, who didn’t reply by the time Heath was walking out of his hotel room.

It was only a ten-minute walk to the café, and Heath approached it slowly, looking in every alley between the buildings and every lurking shadow between the streetlights. There was no one suspicious on the street, so Heath entered the café, redirecting his focus to those inside.

It was surprising, but he didn’t let it change his demeanor. There weren’t many, but he made note of all of them. There were only two humans, and Heath believed they were the ones he was meeting. However, he didn’t go to their table yet, asthey watched him moving through the café. When one opened his mouth to call for him, he held up a finger, and the human remained silent.

Heath ordered a coffee from the fae behind the counter. He watched the entire process closely.

“Totally normal black coffee,” the fae said brightly with a smile. It wasn’t a lie, and that was important. He knew the fae would understand the consequences of messing with anything he was going to drink.

I’m not going to drink it, but it’s the principle of the matter.

He passed another couple in the café, intentionally sniffing as he passed. They were vampires. He recognized them for what they were when he was close enough. He’d known they had to be some type of supernatural, but it was good to confirm what type.

Finally, as he sat down, he had a good angle on the last group. Three werewolves in the corner behind the humans he was meeting. One was definitely the Portland Alpha. Heath ignored all the supernaturals, though. With all of them cataloged in his mind, he focused on the humans.

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