KACELA
I stepped out into the bright sunshine, shielding my eyes and looked around. Spotting what I was looking for, I ran across two lanes of traffic and cut in front of a couple who was wrestling three huge bags of luggage. I slid into the taxi that had stopped for them.
“The Hyatt Downtown,” I told the driver. He looked in his mirror at the couple who were staring at me in outrage and then shrugged, pressing on the gas and driving away. I settled back into my seat and my phone chirped again.
“This is Kacela,” I said. Emmett spoke, sounding irritated.
“Finally, you answer,” he said in a deep whine.
“What do you want, Emmett?” I asked. I needed to pack up my room and leave the city. I didn’t think there would be too much uproar for a person who left a wolf dead in a bathroom, but you never know. Most likely they will want to question me after they review the video of the terminal. There’s the matter of two of us entering the bathroom, one leaving and a dead wolf being left behind. I didn’t really want to stick around for those questions.
“Ton of requests for your services, but there’s one in particular I think you should seriously take a look at,” he said. He sounded excited instead of his usual bored self, so my interest was piqued.
“Tell me about it.”
“Some super rich guy wants a pack taken out. Says that they run a lumber mill and it’s in direct competition with his.” I made a noise. I didn’t care why the guy wanted the werewolves killed. It never interests me.
“I know, I know,” Emmett said. “You don’t care. It’s reason enough that they’re werewolves. Someday you’re going to have to tell me why you hate them so bad,” he said. He paused for a moment. I made another impatient noise and he sighed. “Fine. I told him you’d call him when you got back to your office and talk to him about it. He is paying well. You could take a really nice vacation when you’re done with this job.”
“Maybe,” was all that I said. I have never taken a vacation. I haven’t gotten tired of killing werewolves yet.
“I’ll text you the number,” he said. “Give him a call. Try to be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” I said. Emmett made a condescending noise and I smiled wryly into the phone before disconnecting. My phone chirped again, and I saw that Emmett had done what he said and texted me the number.
Stanly Jones, I read, followed by his phone number. I put that information into the search engine in my phone and read the results.
Seems Mr. Jones is indeed a lumber mill owner up north, right on the Canadian border. He was located about seventy miles from a major metropolis and five miles from a decent sized town. I put the location into G****e Earth and spent some time scrolling around, looking for signs of a Pack near the location. I thought I potentially found something, but was unable to zoom in. Weird.
The taxi arrived at the hotel, and I paid the driver in cash, giving him a decent tip. I slipped out and then made it to my room, happy to see that housekeeping had already been in and refreshed everything. I would normally like a shower before I traveled but I wanted to get out of town before people started thinking they wanted to talk to me.
Three hours later I was on a train that was taking me to Kansas City, the place I currently call home. The clacking of the wheels on the tracks lulled me and I put my phone away, deciding to do my research on Mr. Jones another time. I asked the porter to turn my compartment into a bed and then disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. When I got back, I locked the door and lay down, drifting into a restless sleep.
I woke as we were arriving into Kansas City. The train had stopped, and I was groggy, gathering my bags and opening the sliding door. The porter waved at me; the forty-dollar tip I had given him made an impression. I grabbed an Uber outside the train station and gave him my home address.
I lived in an old flour mill that had been converted into apartment lofts and office spaces. I had one of each; a small loft space upstairs and an office space on the street level of the building. I liked that my commute to the office was five sets of stairs and one hundred feet. The loft was located within a twelve-dollar Uber ride from the train station and for thirty dollars I could go to the airport. I also owned a jeep that I parked in the covered parking garage and rarely got to use, much to Emmett’s chagrin. He was constantly trying to borrow it, but I let no one use my cars.
Once home I spent some time watering the plants I desperately try to keep alive and fail miserably. It was 10:30pm and I wasn’t in the least bit tired, having slept the entire eight-hour trip back here. I took my long-awaited shower and then plopped down to check up on these people who wanted to hire me.
I saw, with amusement, that the discovery of a dead wolf in the airport had caused a stir and made the rounds on social media. Smugglers were suspected and extremist groups from the northern states were also suspected. I snickered and then switched to one of my favorite programs to use.
Within minutes I had Stephen Jones’ entire digital footprint laid out in front of me. I knew his address, the address of his kids, the three marriages he still owed alimony on and his credit score. I knew the names of his associates, his employees, and his neighbors. I pulled up his last few credit card statements and saw that he racked up quite the bill, but also paid it off each month. I saw several subscription charges and, curious, looked up one I didn’t recognize. It was a girl-on-girl porn site. Eeew. I studied his photo and was not impressed. He looked like he tried too hard.
I checked my watch. It was currently 10pm where he was at because of the time change, and it was technically too late to call. However, I was beginning to be curious. I have never been hired to take out an entire pack before, and I wanted details. I picked up the phone and dialed his number.
KACELAHe answered on the second ring. He sounded mildly curious, but not irritated that someone was calling him so late. I wondered if it was a regular occurrence.“Mr. Jones. Kacela Thompkins returning your phone call.”“Ah, yes, Miss Thompkins. Thank you for getting back to me so timely.” He was polite and there was nothing that set off any red flags for me. “I’m sure your assistant filled you in on the situation?”“Not really,” I said. “I was traveling so he just texted me your name and phone number and told me that he thought we could help each other out.” I paused, weighing my words before continuing. “I hear you need a pack eliminated?”“Yes,” he said. “I’m a business owner and I. . . “I interrupted him. “Mr. Jones, I don’t particularly care about your reasoning. It sounds like you think you have a problem. I can help.”He sounded wary. “I really would like to explain myself, Miss Thompkins. I don’t want you thinking I’m doing this because I get some sort of wei
WYATTI was sitting at my desk in my office when my assistant pushed through the door and stood quietly, waiting for me to finish my conversation with one of my lumber suppliers. I smiled at her and acknowledged her presence. She bowed and waited.When I was done with the conversation, I hung up the phone and looked at her, waiting for her to speak. She had a few files in her arms that she brought forward and lay on the desk.“Sire, the head of your security would like to have a word with you. He is waiting.” I nodded and took the files, opening it up. The top file was thicker than the one on the bottom. I recognized the one on the top as a businessman in the town near my village. He was crooked and someone we had been watching for quite some time. The second file was thinner. Curious, I opened it and saw a full-page photo of a beautiful woman.She had glossy black hair that was pulled to the side in this photo. She was laughing at something someone said off camera and her
KACELAThe contract came back quickly, and even though I felt that something was off with Stephen Jones, I signed my portion and had Emmett file it. I knocked off early for the day, ordered some takeout and went upstairs to pack. Emmett had looked up the average temperature of the town I was going to be staying in and it looked like hoodies, leggings and jeans were going to suffice. Three flights and twelve hours of travel time later found me in the back seat of a car Jones had sent for me. It was a three-hour drive from the airport to the lumber mill. I was going to meet Jones first, then be taken to my little apartment that Emmett had procured for me. I was ready for a shower and a nap; traveling is my least favorite part of my job.“Are we almost there?” I leaned forward to talk to the driver. So far our trip had been very quiet. He had started to make small talk, but I discouraged it and just watched the scenery as it sped by. I found it exhausting to try to talk to someo
WYATTI was tapping my fingers impatiently, waiting for the phone calls that were supposed to be coming. I was usually a lot more patient, but these phone calls were thirty minutes overdue. Earl was sitting in the chair opposite my desk waiting with me. We were trying to figure out how to deal with this threat.The phone finally rang and I switched it to speaker. “Nellie?” I asked.“Yes, my king. I also have Jason here.” Jason was the driver for Stephen Jones, also one of my subjects. “Hello, Jason,” I said. “Hello, My King,” he answered. “I’m happy to serve you.”The kid was so formal. I looked up to see Earl smirking. He rearranged his features when he saw my glare. “Please report on the girl,” I said. Jason cleared his throat.“She’s pleasant enough, but untalkative. Most people jabber my ear off or want to talk the entire time. We sat in silence. No radio, nothing. She didn’t even wear earbuds.” I smiled. Jason was one of my younger Lycans, still aging in appear
KACELAI was dropped off at my new apartment by the driver of the car. While I signed a few papers and got a key from a nice older lady, the driver unloaded my suitcase and the trunk that contained all my weapons. “Just leave them there,” I said. The driver frowned at the stack on the sidewalk. “Mr. Jones said to help you get them into your new place.”I shook my head. “You got them here. Leave them.”He nodded, tipped his hat to me and then got into his car, slowly driving off. I looked around and then put the key into the lock, opening it.I stepped into a small foyer that contained a landing and a steep set of stairs. My apartment was located above a small florist shop, one block off from the main road. My entrance was to the side of the main entrance of the floral shop, located in an ally. It was quiet and private. No one would be able to observe me going in and out. In a large city, this entrance would be dangerous but in a small sleepy town, it was ideal.I dragged m
WYATTAfter Dr. Burst had left, Earl and I sat in silence, him tapping on the computer looking for more information about Kacela. I just sat. His phone rang and he answered it speaking briefly to the person on the other end. He disconnected and spoke to me.“I put a couple warriors on the girl. Alec is watching her tonight. He just called. She’s left for the diner.”I looked at Earl. “Do you want to. . . “He nodded and stretched. “Let’s go.”We took off our clothing, stuffing it into a backpack and then we shifted. Earl put on the backpack, and we took off, running for town. By car, we lived an hour outside of town. Running in Lycan form got us there in seventeen minutes. We shifted back, dressing quickly, and then I blocked the view so that Earl could pick her lock. He was quite handy, using one of his claws instead of tools. I mind linked Alec to let us know when she was on her way back.We relocked the door at the bottom but left the one at the top of the stairs ajar
KACELAI was pissed off that someone had searched my apartment already. I needed to change the locks, at least the one at the top of the stairs, as soon as I could. It wouldn’t happen tonight, though. Everything was already closed, one of the quaint things about small towns.I curled up on the couch with the files and started with Wyatt’s. His profile was pulled out for a reason, and I wanted to figure out why. There was just the basic information, his address, phone number, basic demographic information and a schedule that he tended to follow. There was nothing really remarkable about his file, though I saw that he visited the local nursing home every Thursday at noon. That was interesting. Tomorrow was Thursday. I knew where I was going to be at noon.I usually took some time to observe my marks before making any moves. Often, the client will give me poor or incomplete information and I liked to make sure I wasn’t walking into a trap. The rest of the week will be me gath
KACELAI could feel Wyatt’s eyes on my back as I stumbled away, trying to keep control of myself. My wolf was going crazy in my head. I haven’t felt her presence in over a year, and she was suddenly back, freaking out on me. She kept yelling ‘mate’. I was trying to silence her, not knowing if Wyatt’s wolf had alerted him. The effort made my nose bleed.The four-block walk was excruciating. Dali was getting stronger, and she was trying to take over. I had blood gushing from my nose, and I had a splitting headache. I finally made it back to the apartment and about fell into the door. My hands were shaking, and I had to try twice to get the key in before I could turn it. The door opened and I yanked the key out of it, stumbling in and slamming it behind me. I noticed I left a smear of blood on the back of the door. I would have to deal with it later. I locked the door behind me and looked up the stairs, putting one foot in front of the other. I made it up three steps before