Borrowed Beauty

Chapter Twenty: Sniffing Around

Josiah

The slight throbbing behind my right eye was already threatening to bloom into a full-fledged headache, as Elton briefed me on a proposal by a bunch of foreign investors who wanted to build a strip mall right on the edge of the Prosperity Springs Wildlife Sanctuary.

“No, and hell no,” I said, filing the proposal straight into the paper shredder beside my desk. My beta looked like he wanted to protest my hasty and undiplomatic decision, but before he could tell me his opinion, the twins insinuated their way into the office. They completely ignored Elton’s warning growl and promptly made themselves comfortable. Brock pulled up a chair, and Aaron strode up to my desk and slapped a business card down on the wooden surface.

I regarded Aaron and Brock like they were my younger brothers, so I let the lack of decorum slide, as always. I gave them each a questioning look, as I used my fingernails to peel the card off my desk and scrutinized the unfamiliar name of some lawyer from an out-of-town law firm I’d never heard of. “What’s this?”

“We caught this guy sniffing around the club,” Aaron said, gesturing to the card.

“Why would a lawyer be sniffing around?” I asked tiredly.

“That’s what we want to know,” Brock said, leaning back and crossing his long legs in front of him at the ankle.

“Did you ask him?”

They gave me an are-you-stupid look before Aaron answered, “Nah, he skedaddled out of there before we got the chance.” He leaned his hip lazily against the edge of my desk. “We thought maybe it has something to do with that chick that tried to off herself…”

I bristled at the casual and disrespectful way he tossed it out like that chick wasn’t a human being, who certainly deserved better than to be found unresponsive in a stall in the women’s toilet, drowning in her own vomit. I felt my right eye starting to twitch with equal parts pain and general irritation. It took a lot of effort to focus on the problem at hand.

Avalon Starr didn’t have a legal representative. Her family hadn't even come to see her since the incident. Her only visitor had been some two-bit talent agent that had stopped in for ten minutes with a vase of carnations and a get-well-soon card. I suppose it was possible that the family might have decided to lawyer up in hopes of getting their hands on a piece of the Salvador fortune. But that was easy enough to deal with. “I’ll call Harry in the morning,” I said, picking up a pen and making a note to call the insanely expensive werewolf attorney that I kept on retainer.

Elton sat forward and stroked his beard, which puffed out around his face like half a lion’s mane. “I don’t think it's necessary to pull Harry Malone in just yet.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly like the man had worn out his vocal cords shouting orders at his subordinates. But actually, I couldn’t recall any time I’d ever heard the man raise his voice, ever. He was always cool, calm, and careful, the exact qualities that made him the perfect beta.

“Well, we just thought you should know,” Brock grumbled, uncrossing his legs and pushing himself to his feet. It seemed like Elton was giving him a stare down that was making my younger cousin decidedly uncomfortable.

I nodded. “Sure, yeah. Thanks for keeping me in the loop.” I rubbed the corner of my eye, which still felt twitchy. In reality, the twins did a damn good job of running the club, and I didn’t feel the need to micromanage their business. Thank god, because I had more than enough problems to deal with at the moment.

They left as abruptly and unceremoniously as they had entered, and I turned my attention back to the beta. Appointing Elton Brooks as my second-in-command had been Vero’s idea. She had insisted that his maturity and life-experience as my father’s head of security would help stabilize me as a young alpha. And she had been right. Especially during that first, horrible year, when I was still raw with grief and the entire pack was staggering under the loss of their alpha, their luna, and their beta in one terrible, tragic accident. Elton had quietly picked up the slack and carried us through, like a true soldier.

My best friend, Christopher Jenkins, the man who should have become my beta, ended up joining the police academy. He was now the assistant chief of the Prosperity Springs Police Department, so I guess the arrangement had worked out well for everyone involved.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Elton pulled a folded copy of the Daily Chronicle from his briefcase and slid it over my desk. I inwardly cringed as I unfolded it and smoothed it open on the front page. It was never good when they handed you a newspaper instead of simply telling you the story in their own words. The big, bold headline read, “CRIME UP 62% IN PROSPERITY SPRINGS” with a big color photo of a local gas station that had been hit by a recent flood of burglaries. It wasn’t enough that the thieves had robbed the human cashier at gunpoint, they had also taken a baseball bat to every window, door, cooler, and several parked vehicles, leaving behind a sea of shattered glass that was becoming their signature move.

Yep, full-on headache.

The article didn’t speculate that the recent surge of criminal activity coincided with the rising tide of that new street drug, but I think we all knew it. The local newspaper was just doing me a solid by keeping it out of the headlines.

Elton stood and leaned over my desk to tap another article with his thick, calloused finger. A barely noticeable headline topped a tiny two-paragraph article, hiding in the bottom of the left-hand corner. “Prosperity Springs Teacher Missing” In a grainy, black and white photo, a man I vaguely recognized as one of my pack members, Vern Coulier, smiled up at me. I picked up the paper and looked closer, scanning the scant story for any pertinent details.

“Why wasn’t I notified?” I growled.

Elton shrugged, and his expression clearly reminded me that he was in the process of notifying me. “It’s only been 48 hours,” he said, picking up his briefcase as he prepared to leave. “And rumor has it, there were some issues between him and the missus. He’s probably just cooling off somewhere.”

I folded up the newspaper slowly and deliberately. “He didn’t show up for work,” I pointed out. “He’s been teaching for twenty-three years, and he’s never pulled a no-call, no-show, according to the article.”

“People do dumb s**t when it comes to mates and lovers,” he sounded just a tad bitter when he turned on his heel and marched out of the door, signaling an end to our conversation, and our daily briefing in general.

I picked up my pen and crossed out the note to call the attorney. Then underneath the scribbled-out words, I wrote, “Call Chris.” Even though missing persons were in my best friend’s jurisdiction, I’d be a s**t alpha if I didn’t follow up on Vern’s disappearance myself. I hesitated and then added another line. “Call Vern Coulier’s wife.” My chicken scratch was barely legible, but I could read it, and that was all that mattered. I underlined the memos a few times. I’d make those calls, right after I took some aspirin and downed a third cup of coffee.

More than painkillers and caffeine, I had a burning desire to go find Olivia. I had this weird feeling that if I were to just lay my head in her lap, and she brushed her fingertips through my hair and massaged my scalp, all my tension would melt away like hot butter. I swiveled in my chair and looked out the window as if I expected to see Olivia wandering through the garden.

Instead, through the floor to ceiling window that gave me a full view of my front yard and beyond, I saw Elton moving away from the house, toward another solitary figure, half hidden behind a tree. I knew it was my aunt Veronica. I felt my lips quirk as they met and embraced each other. I couldn’t quite see from that angle, but I was pretty sure they were kissing. I’d suspected for a long time that they were lovers, and frankly, I approved. I wasn’t sure why they still tried to hide it. My uncle had been gone for more than five years, and it was about time that Vero moved on and found some happiness and companionship. Elton was a good man, and not to be disloyal to my late uncle, but nobody should have to grow old alone.

And, just as I was about to ship my aunt and my beta off into the sunset, I caught sight of something else streaking across the garden. And I do mean streaking. There went Thomas, naked as a jaybird, running as fast as his short and clumsy little legs could carry him, with a red-faced nanny right behind. I could hear her shrill cries through the thick glass of my closed window. “Thomas, Thomas stop! Thomas, your underwear!” she was waving the missing garment in the air like a banner.

I turned away from the window and rubbed my temples. Then I picked up the pen and added one more item to the list. Start looking for Nanny #5.