Page 8 of Fixer
“Was murdered.”
“In theory.Yeah.”
“Didn’t feel like theory.”Wade cleared his throat.I could see the pain deep in his eyes.
“No, I know.I’m sorry.I couldn’t tell you.Alpha was watching you closely for a mental break, for a threat, knowing you’d take losing Shawn badly and wondering if he’d have to make it a two-for-one.”
“I almost forced him to, you know,” Wade said slowly.“When our Second and Enforcer let me loose from where they’d locked me in, and I knew Shawn was dead, I almost attacked Alpha.Hurting him might’ve been worth dying for.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten close to Alpha.Half a dozen wolves would’ve taken you down first.”
“Yeah.I know.That was the only thing holding me back.Not worth dying to see Alpha standing back laughing while some other wolf took care of his little problem.”
“Was the Colorado pack a bad one?”Our Alpha had known their Alpha, a reason he shuttled our “problem child” over to them.“I hoped you could stay there, at least for a while.”
Wade turned incredulous eyes on me.“I wasn’t staying withanypack a moment longer than I had to.As soon as their Alpha agreed to let me become a lone wolf, I was gone.”
I know.I’d played it too careful, waited too long pretending to be Alpha’s obedient little Fixer after sneaking Shawn away, before I reached out to find Wade.By then, he’d left Colorado and was in the wind.It’d taken me most of seven years to locate him again.
Wade ground his teeth.“So how do I get to see Shawn?What do you need me to do?”
“We’ll head back to your place, you pack a bag for a couple of days.Tell whoever you need to that you’ll be out of town, real casual.Tell them you’re going somewhere northish.Wisconsin or Minnesota.We’ll take a roundabout route.”I didn’t think anyone else from the pack had located Wade, and I was as sure as I could be that none of them had found me, but we were both supposedly straight.Shawn was the one at real risk.
“Okay.”Wade gestured forcefully.“Drive!Now!”
My wolf stirred a little at that order, weighing our dominance against this younger, smaller packmate.Not pack, I reminded my wolf-self, as I pulled out onto the street.Not anymore.
Pack.My wolf settled with a grumpy feel to him.
Eight blocks on, I spotted an open space at the curb a couple of doors down from Wade’s building.As we parked and got out, Wade stiffened and growled under his breath.I was going to ask why when the smell of fresh paint came to my nose.
On the brick wall near the side door of his building, someone had graffitied “Whore!”in bright red.Wade stalked over there and touched the paint which came away wet on his fingertip.“Bastards,” he muttered with a glance back at my car and then up at his building.
“How do you normally deal with this?”I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Track the tagger and figure out who it was, spray something of theirs, or booby trap them with a paint bomb,” he murmured.“Sometimes takes a while.Damn it.”
“Shawn will wait.”
“No, I want… I need… Aaargh!”He scowled at the red letters.“They’re targeting someone in my— the building.”
“You need to keep your territory and people safe.I get that.We have time.”
He threw me a glare over his shoulder but didn’t correct me.
“I can wait down here, or come upstairs and help.”
Wade raised the cloth-wrapped packet of photos to his nose and sniffed, in what was probably an unconscious gesture.His other hand clenched in a fist.A minute passed, then another.I didn’t push, just leaned on my car like I had all the time in the world.Finally, Wade grunted, “Come on up.I’ll teach someone a lesson, and afterward, you’ll take me to Shawn.”
I had to jog to catch the front door before it closed behind him, then followed him past the inner lock.
He turned for the stairs.“Elevator’s crappy.”He gestured.“Go ahead.Third floor.”
Reluctance to have me behind him was rational on Wade’s part, not an insult.I climbed the first flight, keeping my footfalls as light as possible.Wade was doing the same, but his footsteps two treads behind me came clearly to my wolf-sharp ears.The stairwell didn’t have the foul odors of most such places.What I scented most was Wade, his skin and a sharp odor of drying fear-sweat, as we climbed solid, concrete steps worn a little at the centers by decades of feet.I passed the first landing and kept on going, visualizing where we were relative to the fire escape I’d used.
At the third floor, Wade said, “Out here.”
I pulled the door open and headed down the hall.The first apartment on the right smelled of Wade.Standing back for his comfort, I waved him toward the lock.He stuck in his key, turned it, hesitated, then said, “Come on in,” and led the way.
