Shadow of doubt the pote.., p.17

Shadow of Doubt (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 1), page 17

 

Shadow of Doubt (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 1)
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  The rest of what Eva had to say blended into a string of incoherency, she chattered at him so fast.

  “Give me that, you little imp.” Lethe reclaimed the screen. “Did you hear that? Daddy is calling for his big helper to make Mommy a BBB sandwich.”

  “BBB?” He thought about it for a second. “Bacon, bacon, bacon?”

  “Who in their right mind would sully a bacon sandwich with lettuce and tomato? I mean, really.”

  “Hood is going to catch on eventually,” Midas warned her. “He’s going to realize it’s Mommy who wants alone time, not Eva who wants Daddy time.”

  “Oh, he knows.” A glimmer of pride brightened her smile. “She’s dominant. She’s stuck to me like glue, just like I was to Mom. She has her nose in all the pack business, and routinely makes patrols around the property. It’s precious. She issued a citation to Mila Reed for not sharing her ice cream with her sister.”

  “A citation?”

  “Um, well, Eva is dominant-dominant. Grier almost had a heart attack when Eva got into a brawl with Theodore Posy. The little imp was gnawing on his throat, trying to rip it out, when Grier intervened. After that, Grier suggested the citations. Even bought her a flipbook from an online cop supply store.”

  Theodore Posy.

  Three hundred pounds of scarred-up, pissed-off gwyllgi who hated everyone and everything except for the angora rabbits he bred for their silky wool. He also enjoyed knitting and had stabbed more than one person with a knitting needle for laughing at him for either or both. He tried to teach Lethe once, but her temper was worse than his, and she had less patience.

  Their mother hadn’t been sad when he gave up the Atlanta pack to move to Savannah.

  “Does she have all her teeth?” Unfamiliar with the stages of child development, he had no clue.

  “Yes.” She held up her left arm, which was covered in pinkish half-moon-shaped grooves. “She’s a biter.”

  Already challenging her mother. “You must be proud.”

  “I’m grateful every time I get the chance to tell her not to eat the neighbor’s familiar’s kittens, which are living under our porch, or to put my bacon down or I’ll eat her instead.” Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I’m thankful I got to be a mom. Whatever comes next, I’m glad I got to know Eva.”

  That right there, love for her child, was what had outweighed her already thin patience. Eva’s condition tipped the scales for Lethe. Living in Savannah meant easy access to Grier, and to Linus. With a miracle child, they had expected the miraculous developmental progress, but it was one thing to have an emergency and bundle your kid up for a three-hour drive from Atlanta to Savannah and another to scoop her up and run next door to the only person who could help.

  Reminding himself of that, that Lethe’s ambition wasn’t to blame for his current predicament, he made a bit more peace with his situation. He loved Eva too, and he would do anything for her. Even give up his best friend and take on her role to free Lethe up to walk her own path for the sake of her child.

  “I’m glad too.” He spotted the imp stalking her mother in the background but didn’t say a word. “I should let you get back to mothering.”

  “She’s behind me, isn’t she?”

  “Yep.”

  Lethe exhaled and counted softly under her breath, a habit he had picked up from her. “I have to go.”

  Her finger slipped off the button, and the call continued as she set down the tablet. He heard her roar at Eva and stomp off bellowing about monsters who ate little girls who interrupted sibling bonding time.

  Midas listened until the room went quiet then ended the call with a sigh when he realized Lethe hadn’t told him why Hadley required a warning label. She had used his adorable niece against him, and he fell for it.

  He wasn’t brooding in the quiet for long before the bedroom door swung open and his mother swept in.

  “I heard the most peculiar thing,” she said, flipping on the lights and joining him on the bed. “It can’t be true, but I thought I would ask.”

  Midas no longer indulged in any of the activities that might cause a mother to enter her adult son’s room with caution. The worst she expected was to wake him from a nap. He flushed, embarrassed for no good reason, annoyed with himself when it had never bothered him before.

  “Ask away.” He set aside his tablet. “What have you heard?”

  So far, there had been no fallout from his botched date with Rebecca. Granted, his mother hadn’t expected it to go well, so she might simply be relieved it didn’t go worse. Or Rebecca might have been too ashamed to admit how badly she had been treated and decided to edit the details.

  “That you granted Hadley Whitaker certain privileges.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Ares mentioned you performing a Care Bear Stare on Hadley. She could barely keep it together long enough to explain what in god’s name she meant.”

  “A Care Bear…” Midas rested his head against the wall. “Hadley called it that?”

  His mother’s lips pursed. “Apparently.”

  “I didn’t see the harm.”

  His inner beast wouldn’t quiet until it could look its fill, and for that to happen, she had to be his.

  No.

  He quelled that primal urge before it could rise. She had to be…given certain allowances.

  “Your professional relationship with her is whatever you choose it to be.” An elegant shrug lifted one dainty shoulder. “Linus and I shaped ours how it suited us, and it’s between you two how you go forward as the next generation.”

  “But?”

  “Ares also mentioned you marked her.”

  “No.” Shock propelled him onto his feet. “She’s wrong.”

  Damn you, he thought at his wilder half. What have you done?

  The feral beast that lived under his skin was unable to articulate words, but it managed to project smugness at him.

  “So I thought until now.” She watched him pace. “What has gotten into you?”

  “This role doesn’t suit me.” He struck up an old argument to give him time to deal with what he might have done unawares. “Lethe was allowed to work security details, she held down a position at the Faraday, and she traveled.” Dragging his sister into their conversation made him feel like a child, but this was their mother. “Why is it you keep me inside the city limits? You won’t even assign me a job. The only schedule I’m given involves the women you expect me to wine and dine that week.”

  The rest of his time was devoted to his personal cause and had nothing to do with the pack.

  “When Lethe was heir, she had more freedom because I still had you.” His mother sighed. “She is an alpha now, and you are my sole heir. Until you have children, I must keep you close. We protect too many old ones to allow the leadership of this pack to be decided by brute strength. We need brains, not brawn, in order to protect the haven we have created.”

  “A killer is hunting our people—”

  “You appointed Ford as your proxy to aid Hadley in whatever capacity she needs. It’s called delegation, and it’s key to avoiding burnout when you’re in a leadership role. Particularly when you’re new to shouldering so much responsibility.”

  “Are you telling me you never want to put down your planner and step out on the street?”

  “When I was your age? Yes. Now? I’ve settled into my role and embrace all the battles and challenges that come along with it. They may not be physical, but they’re just as strenuous.”

  He quit pacing and faced her. “I’m doing my best to adapt.”

  “I know.” She rose and crossed to him. “I can tell it’s hard on you. Hard for you. You’ll get there.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “That’s what mothers are for.” Noticing the tablet, she beamed. “You were talking to Lethe? How’s our little Eva?”

  The rest of her visit fell on safe conversational grounds. They talked about Lethe, about Eva, about everything but the dark cloud hanging suspended over the city.

  In her mind, Ford was on the job. She let it go without a backward glance, but Midas struggled. Beyond the first crime scene, he shouldn’t have appeared at a single other. He should have left Hadley and Ford to handle the matter, but he had trouble taking a step back, watching from the sidelines. It wasn’t in his nature to sit and wait.

  After his mother left, when he had a moment alone, he looked at his hand, knew if he rubbed his fingers together, he could recall how soft and warm Hadley’s skin felt under his.

  “I didn’t mark her,” he reassured himself. “I wouldn’t do that to her.”

  Or to himself.

  Reclining on his mattress, he fell asleep and did not dream of hazel eyes or wild blonde hair.

  Neither did he touch the scraps of pastel fabric tucked under his mattress that somehow still smelled like her.

  Fourteen

  The absolute best thing about my cover as a Peachy Keen Sheets franchise owner working out of a mall kiosk was having no boss to rap my knuckles when I brought a laptop with me and dismissed the ebb and flow of humans out looking for a quick bite and to incur a little debt. Veteran shoppers and locals cut a wide path around most vendors. Your odds of being approached increased exponentially when you actively ignored potential customers. It lulled them into a false sense of security.

  Some gadget peddlers got downright aggressive with their sales tactics, and it was entirely possible to walk out of a store and into the arms of a man or woman who gooped product on your face before you could escape then dragged you to their kiosk where you could rinse off before they moved in for the kill.

  Doesn’t your skin feel softer? See how well the product works? Wouldn’t you like to achieve this effect in your own home? How many jars should I put you down for? Oh! Did you know we sell lotion as well? And lip balm? And eye cream? And, and, and.

  Tourists and out-of-towners were the easy marks, and phew boy had I seen some spectacular takedowns in my time working this corner.

  The four hours I warmed my stool earned me enough pocket change to purchase special edition DVDs no sane person would ever watch with me and allowed me to mingle with humans and supernaturals alike.

  While I counted down my last thirty minutes, I reread the preliminary report on what the cleaners were calling the Perkerson Eight.

  Thanks to Reece, I knew the saliva in the bite wounds matched those found on Shonda. So did the bite imprints. Not that it surprised me considering their middles had been scooped out like ice cream. Tying the cases together gave me a firmer grip on them, but I was still trying to catch smoke with my hands.

  The timer on my phone beeped, and I shut my laptop before locking up my merchandise for the night. It wasn’t hard for me to sell the product. I didn’t have to lie or wheedle. I honestly liked the sheets. They were soft, almost fuzzy—like peaches. Tonight I couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to snag innocent shoppers and beat them over the head with our color of the month. I had too much else on my mind.

  Thankfully, my stipend from the Office of the Potentate covered my bills. Otherwise, I would have had to hustle to make ends meet.

  Even with the OPA covering my rent, I had utilities, groceries, and Swyft bills. Living downtown was expensive.

  Then again, I had always lived with my folks. Maybe the cost of living wasn’t high so much as I just wasn’t used to paying it. Back home, I’d had a job at a Southern belle-themed ghost tour company and been a full-time student. The only expenses I’d had were clothes, fun, and gourmet chocolate.

  Taking the path that promised the least amount of exposure to my fellow kioskers, who were a cannibalistic species willing to snatch a dollar from another entrepreneur as quickly as from a tourist, I sought out the bright station papered with intricate henna designs and other temporary tattoos.

  “Hey.” I walked right up to the artist. “Saanvi, right?”

  “And you’re Hadley.” She set aside the brush she was cleaning. “How can I help you?”

  “I have a design I’d like you to look at, if you don’t mind.” I opened my laptop then showed her the cropped image of the foot bearing a henna tattoo. “Do you recognize this pattern?”

  “No.” A frown gathered between her eyes. “This isn’t one of mine.”

  The expected response, but it still sucked to hear it confirmed. “Does it hold any special significance?”

  “Feet connect the mind, body, and spirit to the earth.” She pointed out a circular flowerlike design. “That’s a mandala. They signify success, courage, prosperity, and wealth.” She traced the border with a fingertip. “The rest is mostly paisley, for fertility.” She withdrew, as if the photo unsettled her but she couldn’t pinpoint why. “These are common patterns. You see them at weddings or stalls like mine.”

  “Thanks.” I passed her a twenty for her time. “I appreciate your insight.”

  On my way out, I hit one of the food court restaurants for dinner. Bourbon chicken, fried potatoes, and glazed noodles confused about their nationality were my go-to fave, but I was open to suggestions.

  It wasn’t lost on me that several gwyllgi cut me looks out of the corners of their eyes once they caught scent of me. Bathing in perfume had worked about as well as Ford promised it would, but I still had to try.

  “What do you want?”

  Distracted by the tone, I glanced down from the overhead menu and blinked. “You?”

  The pixie-haired Swyft driver stared back, spatula in hand. “Me.”

  “You work here too?”

  “Bills.” She rubbed her fingers together. “I got ’em.”

  For her to be so money hungry, she must be paying for her car out of her own pocket.

  That or she had an addiction costing her a small fortune and leaving her no time to indulge it.

  “I’ll take the bourbon chicken, fried potatoes, and noodles.”

  “Combo?”

  “Sure.”

  “What do you want to drink?” She snapped her fingers. “Come on, corpse-raiser. You had to know that was coming.”

  “Sweet tea,” I blurted, reaching for my debit card. “Here.”

  “Hey, look at that.” Since she hadn’t asked for it yet, she winked. “You’re learning.”

  “How many jobs do you have?”

  “A few.” The girl dished up food as fast as she drove. “You haven’t dialed me up all week.”

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to lie. “I’m working a case with someone. He’s got a truck.”

  Her rapid-fire motions slowed. “Midas?”

  “What is your deal with him?”

  “Exactly that.” She snapped the lid shut with a click. “My deal.”

  “Just making conversation.” I caught the takeout box she tossed at me. “Got a fork?”

  “In the bag.” She poured my drink and slid it across the counter like a barkeep slinging a shot. “Napkins too, so don’t waste your breath or my time.”

  Backing away slowly, I took my food and headed for the parking lot. About to pull out my phone to call for a Swyft, I saw a familiar truck rumble to the curb in front of me. The window lowered to reveal a grinning Ford.

  “Hey, darlin’.” His gaze dipped to the container. “I hit the BBQ joint on Dekalb. Wanna go halfsies?”

  “I don’t know.” I cradled the food against my chest. “What did you get?”

  “Burnt ends, pulled pork, ribs, fries, and banana pudding for dessert.”

  A rumble in my stomach betrayed me. “Are you sure you can spare any for me?”

  “I offered a trade.” His smile widened. “That bourbon chicken smells mighty good.”

  “How did…?” I would have palmed my forehead if my hands weren’t full. “Gwyllgi.”

  “I was the last time I checked.”

  “Can you take this for me?” I reached up, almost putting my hands over my head, and passed over my food and drink before climbing in his pickup. “Goddess, did you have to jack it up so high?”

  “Yes.” He winked. “One day, maybe I’ll show you why.”

  “Hey, you nearly made eye contact.” I hauled myself in. “I call that progress.”

  Twelve hours had made a dent in the mark at least, that was progress in my book.

  The second my butt hit the seat, he sneezed. “Excuse me.”

  “Bless you.” I took the food back and got settled. “Did you see the Perkerson report?”

  “I did.” He sneezed again, louder this time. “Sorry about that.”

  “I bathed in perfume,” I confessed. “It didn’t help.”

  “I can tell, and I told you it wouldn’t.”

  “Let’s go back to my place, and I’ll shower before we eat.”

  Relief filtered through his voice. “Bonnie still there?”

  “No.” I had gone to bed alone, staring up at the canopy. It was a touch more lopsided than the original, with staples in the fabric where Midas had given up on sewing and run out of hot glue, but he had hidden them well. That counted for something. “Guess she figured since the gig was up, she might as well go back to her place. Ares was with her the last time I saw her.”

  Ford sneezed three times in a row, his eyes closing a smidgen, and the truck swerved a hair.

  “That reminds me.” I retied the knot on top of my takeout container. “As much as I hate to encourage you to talk about your man crush, do any factions have a beef with Midas?”

  Tension ratcheted through his shoulders before he forced his muscles to relax. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Hmm. That’s weird. Maybe it’s personal then.”

  “What’s personal? You’re losing me.”

  “The Swyft driver who dropped me off at Shonda’s crime scene was weird about Midas. I saw her again today, working in the food court, and she got hostile when I mentioned him.” I shifted my attention out the window. “She’s an odd duck, but people—women in particular—seem to like him well enough. It struck me as odd that she’s laser focused on him is all.”

 

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