“Or entrapment. I knew where the guns were. I knew someone would grab one.”
Surprise flashed through her body. While she’d been barely following what was happening, he’d been thinking at least two steps ahead. She’d always guessed Simon was smart. Now she realized he was probably the smartest man she’d ever met.
But rather than give away exactly how sexy that made him in her eyes, she looked down at her phone. “What do you need from me?”
“Just take notes.”
She nodded. “Who do we start with first?”
He gestured to the huge, ebony-skinned man with the scar, and pretty soon she was tapping out details faster than even her thumbs could manage. Which meant she quickly gave up and switched to record. His name was Hank and he was very familiar with the details of Nanook’s operation. He shared them easily while she gestured for Detective Kennedy to listen in.
Next step was to control the physical space. Apparently Nanook, who had no known relatives, lived right upstairs in what turned out to be a luxury man-cave of truly appalling leather and velvet taste. His only nod to style was that the painted picture of dogs playing poker was done as bears. Simon took one step inside, wrinkled his nose and said, “Get rid of it all.”
Alyssa blinked and said, “Come again?”
Simon gestured to the huge open area that took up the entire second floor. “Sell or burn everything. Take the money as a legal defense fund for my people. Give all paper and electronic files to me.”
She nodded slowly. It was a huge task and certainly one she was willing to do. But it was going to take some time and effort. A lot of—
“I’m hiring you, Alyssa. A thousand a week at first. More as we get settled.”
A spark of greed kindled in her belly, and she arched a brow. “I have a business.”
“That’s why it’s only a thousand at first. Because you’ll be splitting your time.”
Good thing she had things running like clockwork at the laundromat. “Triple it and you’ll get me twenty-four/seven this week. We’ll renegotiate next week.”
“Deal.”
And so began the most incredibly exhausting day of her life. It wasn’t just that he needed her to write down everything he learned, but there were bodies to take care of and police statements to give. Nothing in the upper story could be dealt with until that was done.
All in all, it went pretty smoothly. Detective Kennedy smoothed things over and even recommended a good lawyer. Alyssa was able to check out the guy through her own contacts, and declared he was a good choice. Plus, it helped that Simon turned over all the records they could find regarding the drug and weapons business. Yes, Nanook had been into all sorts of nastiness.
Simon worked methodically. He would not be rushed and nothing distracted him. She had to admire such a steady and organized mind, but as the day wore on, she saw the toll it was taking on him. Though he never raised his voice, his words got more clipped, his orders became commands, and he rarely waited long enough to see if they were obeyed. Or even acknowledged. By the end of the day, there was no softness in him, not even for her. At least twice in the afternoon, he’d managed a whispered, “Thank you,” to her. Now she didn’t even see a gentleness in his eyes much less gratitude.
He was cold and impatient, and he turned up his nose at the pizza she’d had delivered. When she’d offered him a glass of tap water (he refused to touch anything Nanook had in his refrigerator), he’d slapped it out her hand like it was toxic waste.
It was midnight when she lost patience with him. Most of the men were gone, though Detective Kennedy was likely to be working at the precinct through the night along with Vic and the accountant whose name escaped her at the moment. Hank remained a silent witness to everything that went on while a steady parade of people wandered in, greeted Simon by showing him their neck, and then wandered out. They never shifted and they never said much of anything, but Simon would whisper to her after they’d left.
“Wolf.”
“Cat.”
“Human.”
“Bear child.”
She found out later that meant the child of a shifter but one who had never shifted. They still owed loyalty—to a point—but were rarely counted as part of the real clan. As far as she could tell, they were from all walks of life and had varying degrees of annoyance or respect at being called in to greet the new alpha. But it was the last label that finally tipped her into fury.
“Sycophant.”
“That’s Mrs. Garcia, and she’s important in the neighborhood,” she snapped. And when he just looked at her with a flat expression, she continued on her tirade, barely able to keep her voice low. “She owns the cleaning company who is bleaching everything tonight and her nephew is the one taking out the furniture. They’re doing it as a personal favor to me.” And because she’d promised them a big healthy check if it was finished by tomorrow at noon. “Plus her sister’s kid runs a furniture store that can get you what you want wholesale.”
“And she’s important in your neighborhood,” he repeated, as if that explained everything. He gestured to her notes. “Alyssa, I can smell the cannabis on her. She’s the dealer two doors down your street.”
“She’s smart and honest—”
“I’m not making a value judgment,” he said, his voice showing the first signs of strain since this began. “Just a notation that she’ll turn on me if the situation doesn’t benefit her. Am I wrong?”
