An hour later, the city was coming alive with heavier traffic as Badger walked to the dealership, bypassing the front showroom to head straight into the service department.
Smiling, he shook hands with the first mechanic he encountered and in two minutes was standing in front of the dealership’s manager, who with a little help from Badger’s Prime powers heartily agreed to letting Badger into his boss’ office so he could surprise his “old friend.”
Sometimes, it’s too feckin’ easy.
That didn’t mean Badger wasn’t going to stay aware.
Badger closed all the blinds in the office and kept the lights off as he sat and waited. At 7:42, then the lock rattled and the door opened, Badger was up and ready, clamping a hand on the man’s shoulder as he stepped in.
“Keep comin’ in, there’s a good lad,” Badger said. “Quietly, if ye please. Just wanna chat with ye.”
A wave of fear washed from the shifter but Badger eased the door shut, locking it before flipping on the lights. He took the man’s laptop case from him and set it on the floor before searching him for weapons, finding none.
Hamish didn’t look much older than he had in the picture Peyton sent him or in Corrine’s memories. “Yer gonna sit behind yer desk, hands flat on top, and no one’s gettin’ hurt today, I promise.” He followed the man around his desk, getting him seated before Badger took one of the chairs in front of the desk and sat himself.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Badgertsked. “Well now, it’s been a long time since ye’ve visited yer homeland, so ye might not be familiar with me. Name’s Badger Williams. Targhee Pack. Wolves. And before ye even ask, if ye couldn’t guess, I’m a Prime.”
The man blanched.
“Yer not in any trouble,” Badger added. “But there’s a situation with yer brother. First things first, I wanna confirm yer name is Hamish Lewis, yes? Yer real name, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“If ye don’t mind me asking, how’d ye come up with Earl Johnson?”
Hamish smirked. “I needed something that would easily blend in and make it harder to find my particular needle in a haystack. ‘John Smith’ was a little too on the nose.”
“Yes, well, I can see where that makes sense. Has yer older brother been in contact with ye?”
“Who, Faegan?” Badger nodded. “No! I faked my death to get away from him. He thinks I died in World War 1 in France. I didn’t want him to know I was alive. Why do you think I changed my name?”
“Good, good. An’ yer sister?”
“Bryn? I haven’t had any contact with her, either. Again, I wanted Faegan to think I wasdead.” Now Badger heard the faintest traces of a Welsh accent that the man had obviously spent decades trying to eliminate from his voice. “How did you find me?”
“Had a little inside info. Don’t suppose you remember a one-night-stand you had with a woman named Alexis in New Hampshire about seventy-three years or so ago? Mighta been not long before ye went to Boston, if ye even ended up visitin’ there.”
The man’s brows knit in confusion. “What?”
“You met her at her uncle’s garage. Beautiful young Black woman, lighter skin. She was there visiting cousins, ye spent one night with her, and she disappeared the next day.”
Recognition dawned. “Just tell me!”
Badger smiled, pulling out his phone and swiping into a picture he’d taken of Imani at Reggie’s birthday party. “Congratulations, daddy. It’s a girl.”
* * *
When Hamish entered the US,he’d used the ID of the dead solder he’d swapped dog tags and ID with while in the British military. The man had no family, so Hamish didn’t feel guilty about the ruse. That man’s name was Earl P. Johnson, so it’d been easy to fudge the immigration paperwork. Especially when he bribed the overworked clerk filling it out.
Although his friend, who he went to work for, still called him Hamish, and he’d obtained an ID in that name as well, just in case.
Less than a year after arriving in St. Louis, Hamish reverted to using Earl Johnson, Sr., because he realized Alexis wouldn’t be following him. He married and divorced four human women without getting any of them pregnant. Three of them because he refused to get them pregnant, one of them because she cheated on him with their landscaper.
He never revealed his true nature to any of them because he never felt a mate bond with any of them. And about twenty-five years ago, he became his own son and started going by the name Earl Johnson, Jr., which led to a seamless transition when Senior “died” and Junior fully took over. Although Senior had not been actively involved in the daily operations at the dealership for several years at that point.
Late that afternoon, as they sat in Badger’s rental car outside the assisted living facility in Atlanta after driving straight there from the airport, Hamish stared at the building.
