Butterfly Assassin Read online

  “Fine,” he said, eventually. “It won’t hurt to have a bit of background information, and at this point in the investigation, I’ll take any bit of help we can get. It’ll also give Bridgford and Stewart the opportunity to meet him.”

  Michael sat there a little stunned. He’d honestly expected an emphatic no.

  Arlington smirked at him. “You look surprised.”

  Clearing his throat, Michael said, “I didn’t expect you to agree to it.”

  “We need to make some progress on this case. If having Harper listen in to the meet can help us in any way, then I’ll take it. Maybe he’ll hear something we can’t or maybe he’ll just be able to tell us who’s there. At any rate, I don’t believe having him here will do any harm, and if we get something out of it, then all the better.” He sat forward again. “Anything else?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Have Harper here in plenty of time.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Arlington went back to his paperwork, and Michael took his cue and left.

  “Well?” Frank asked when he got back to his desk. He took one look at Michael’s face and said, “No way. Boss said yes?”

  “Yep.”

  Frank laughed and shook his head. “Didn’t see that coming, but now that I think about it, it’s not a bad idea. We should get to know him a bit better. I want to see how he’s going to handle pressure. We don’t want him backing out when it comes to doing his bit.”

  Personally, Michael couldn’t see Harper backing out of anything. He’d seemed genuinely concerned about one of their own going around killing humans and wanted to put a stop to it. If Harper had the balls to go into Smith’s fights night after night, knowing if he was found out they’d kick the shit out of him or worse—shifter or no—then he could do this. They weren’t asking him to do anything that he hadn’t already done, just to keep his ears open this time. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  “Hmm. I’m sure you don’t.”

  Michael didn’t bother rising to the bait. Instead, he focused on making sure everything was in place for later, firstly by sending a text to Harper.

  Arlington okayed you coming to our offices tonight. Be here for 6.30, ask for me at the front desk.

  The reply was almost instantaneous, as though Aaron had been waiting to hear. Thank you. See you later.

  Michael almost replied that he shouldn’t thank him; it was Arlington’s decision. But that seemed petty and unnecessary, so he placed his phone on the desk instead and concentrated on the rest of his work for a while.

  When Michael eventually took a break, he leant back in his chair with a sigh.

  A quick glance at the clock told him he had an hour until Harper arrived. Excitement curled in his belly like it always did when they got deeper into an investigation, and he felt a smile tug at his lips.

  He just hoped that was the only reason for it this time.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Aaron consulted his phone again as he walked up the steps from the tube station. The directions Archer had sent him were pretty straightforward, and ten minutes later he was standing in front of a newer-looking building than he’d expected. In fact, it looked nothing like a police station. Well, none of the ones he’d seen, anyway. The building was all metal and glass, with steps across the front leading up to a set of double doors, and he frowned in confusion for a second.

  The name Trenton House sat above the doors in big black lettering, and Aaron snorted out a laugh because, yes, he had in fact expected to see the letters SCTF or the full version somewhere on display.

  Once inside, Aaron approached the well-dressed guy sat behind a large curved desk.

  “Can I help you?” The man stared at him expectantly.

  “Um… Yes.” Aaron walked closer to the desk. “I’m here to see Detective Sergeant Archer.”

  “Name?”

  “Aaron Harper.”

  The guy consulted his computer, and Aaron caught the sudden but subtle tense of his shoulders.

  He knows I’m a shifter.

  Aaron wondered what else it said next to his name. For the first time since this all started, he was curious to know if there was a file on him detailing his life so far. Was there one on Harry too?

  The thought unsettled him.

  “One second.” The guy picked up his desk phone, pressed a few numbers, and then said, “Aaron Harper’s waiting for you in reception.” After ending the call, he glanced up at Aaron. “Someone will be down to collect you shortly.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rather than linger in front of his desk, Aaron stepped away and wandered over to look out of the windows. It took him a few seconds to realise he couldn’t hear anything other than the click-clack of the receptionist’s fingers on his keyboard and the whir of his computer. He couldn’t hear anything from outside or any voices from behind the closed doors.

  Aaron guessed it made perfect sense for the SCTF building to be fully soundproofed.

  The soft snick of a door opening caught Aaron’s attention and he turned to see Archer walk through. He smiled when he saw Aaron, and the sight of it made Aaron’s heart beat that little bit faster. The way Archer’s eyes crinkled at the corners led Aaron to believe he laughed a lot—under different circumstances, obviously—and Aaron wanted to experience that. Wanted to be the cause of it.

  Get a fucking grip, Aaron. He wanted to arrest you, remember?

  Instinct drowned out the voice of reason in his head, and Aaron was smiling back before he could stop himself. Archer was attractive, there was no denying that—easy on the eye. Being a shifter meant attraction for Aaron was about so much more than looks though. The way Archer smelt, all citrus and woodsy, drew him in. He inhaled deeply as Archer walked closer, the scent teasing his senses into wanting more. He was tall too, roughly the same height as Aaron, and solid-looking. Like he wouldn’t break if Aaron was a little rough with him.

  And fuck no, that is so never going to happen.

  He needed to stop before his wolf began to take more notice because then he’d be in serious trouble.

  Aaron snapped his gaze from where it had drifted down the length of Archer’s body and met blue eyes that were narrowing sharply as Archer studied Aaron in return. “Detective Archer,” he said as Archer came to a stop in front of him.

  “It’s Detective Sergeant, actually,” Archer corrected, but his smile remained.

  Of course it is. I just asked for him at the bloody front desk! “Sorry,” Aaron offered.

  “It’s fine, come on.” Archer gestured for him to walk, so Aaron fell in step beside him. “Oh here, you better put this on.” He held out a visitor’s lanyard, and Aaron took it, slipping it over his head. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you were trespassing and arrest you, would we?” He smirked, eyebrows raised, and Aaron was at a loss as to how to respond.

  Whatever expression Aaron had made, Archer’s smirk disappeared and he sighed. “I guess it’s too soon to joke about it?”

  “A bit,” Aaron managed to get out. Almost getting arrested and possibly spending time in Krillick Hall wasn’t something he found funny. Would probably never find funny. The thought of that place made him shudder, which was the whole point, he knew. They were hardly going to make prison welcoming. But the idea of being confined to a cell indoors, of having to endure the full moon run in an enclosed fenced off area made his wolf whimper.

  That’s why I’m doing all this.

  When they reached a door to the right of the reception area, Archer swiped a card to open it and waited for Aaron to go through first.

  Another door was on the left, and curiosity overriding everything else, Aaron asked, “What’s behind the other door?”

  “Stairs to our offices.”

  Aaron glanced over his shoulder. “Is that all? No holding cells or anything?”

  Soft laughter met his question, and there went his traitorous body reacting to it. Archer had a nice laugh, though, to be fair. All throaty
and rumbly. Sexy. Aaron wished he could hear more of it, but it stopped as soon as it’s started.

  “No,” Archer said. “We’re not like a normal police station. We don’t have cells or the facilities to hold people here for any length of time. We work with the Met or the City police if we need to arrest people—humans. Since our suspects are usually shifters, we have no need for cells. If we need to interrogate or detain a shifter, we take them to Krillick Hall.”

  Aaron suppressed another shudder. That made sense—Krillick Hall was built to contain shifters after all.

  Archer didn’t offer up any more than that, and Aaron didn’t want to ask either, didn’t want to remind Archer of what he was capable of. Not that he thought for one second that Archer had forgotten, but still.

  “Where will we be doing this?” he asked, wanting to get off the subject. And the thought of Harry was like a bucket of cold water. It didn’t matter what Archer thought of him, Harry was the priority here.

  Focus.

  Archer seemed unfazed by his sudden change of subject. He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke. “Monitoring the meetup?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nodding to a door on his right, he said, “In here.” Archer led them into a fair-sized windowless room. Most of the space was taken up by a large round table, with a laptop, other equipment that Aaron didn’t recognise, and some fancy speaker-type thing on it. There were also several large TV screens or monitors on the wall, but they were all turned off.

  Closing the door, Archer went over to the laptop and powered it up.

  “How will this work exactly?” Aaron caught sight of a brown folder on the table, just the edges of what looked like photographs peeking out. He wanted to flip it open and have a look but kept his hands to himself.

  “We installed something on Harry’s phone that’ll enable us to send a message to it and activate his microphone.

  “Clever.” Aaron felt a prickle of unease at how simple it was to spy on someone these days. “And you’re going to do that at the time of the meeting?”

  “Just before. We don’t want to miss anything.” Archer tapped out something on the keyboard, seemed satisfied with whatever he’d done, and stood. “There’s something I want to show you, come here.” He slid the folder closer and flipped it open.

  When Archer spread the photos out on the table, his shoulder brushed against Aaron’s. On his next inhale Archer’s subtle scent filled his lungs, and Aaron’s heart sped up, the urge to tug him close and bury his nose in the crook of Archer’s neck hard to ignore.

  “These are all the photos we’ve been able to get of Smith and his bodyguards,” Archer said. “We know their names, but I want to see if you recognise any from the fights.”

  Aaron tried to concentrate on what Archer was saying rather than the warmth from him standing so close. Leaning in to get a better look, he moved to steady himself on the table but felt warm skin under his palm instead of wood.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and snatched his hand away from Archer’s. Heat flooded his face. Fucking hell, how embarrassing. Unable to help himself, he looked up and found Archer staring straight at him. Archer’s expression was hard to decipher—but he didn’t seem especially bothered by the fact that Aaron had just been holding his hand. Maybe it was his imagination, but Aaron thought he even saw the hint of a smile.

  The door opened, breaking whatever weird connection they had going on, and Frank entered, followed by two men Aaron didn’t recognise.

  Archer straightened. “Aaron Harper, this is DS Bridgford and DS Stewart. They’ll be working with us on this case.”

  To Aaron’s surprise, they both held out a hand for him to shake. Maybe they didn’t know Archer had almost arrested him. Or maybe they didn’t care? Whatever. Aaron shook hands and offered a small smile.

  Focusing back on the photos, he slid one closer to him. “I know him.” He tapped the guy’s face, and the low chatter in the room stopped as they all turned to see who he was pointing at.

  Archer stepped close enough to brush against him again, and Aaron suppressed a shiver at his proximity and resisted the pull to lean against him, concentrating instead on the photo.

  “His name’s Blake,” Aaron said. “Either Simon or Steve, maybe. I don’t know if it’s his real name or not, but he’s always there at the fights. He was the one who took me to see Smith last time.”

  “Simon Blake,” Archer confirmed. “Would you say he’s one of Smith’s top men?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe?” Aaron shrugged, His knowledge of the inner workings of Smith’s circle didn’t extend that far. “I’ve only spoken to him a handful of times, but as henchmen go, he’s all right. He’s never been a dick just for the sake of it, not that I’ve seen, anyway.”

  “And some of them are?” Frank asked the question this time, and Aaron looked up to meet his gaze across the table.

  “Yeah. A couple of them are right arseholes.”

  “Typical,” Bridgford grunted.

  Archer hadn’t moved away. If anything, he was closer, and now Aaron was far too conscious of his body heat where they touched. He daren’t glance at him in case Archer was watching him, and Aaron didn’t trust himself not to blush again.

  He’s SCTF. Off limits.

  Aaron repeated it like a mantra.

  “Almost time.” Bridgford gestured at the clock, and the rest of them hurried to get ready.

  Aaron stepped out of the way and let them do their thing.

  The clock—surprisingly old fashioned for how new the building was—ticked loudly, to Aaron’s ears, anyway. Archer caught him looking at it and gave him a half-smile. “Stole that from my old offices when we moved here.” He laughed at Aaron’s look of confusion, because who’d bring that with them, of all things. “Sentimental value.”

  “If you say so.”

  Archer grinned at him this time but soon sobered when Harry’s muffled voice filled the room.

  “Hey,” Harry whispered.

  Aaron froze. He bit his tongue to stop himself from answering and embarrassing himself and only realised he had his claws out when they scraped against the table top. He sheathed them quickly and hoped no one else had noticed.

  “Not sure if you’re hearing this yet,” Harry continued. “But I’m gonna assume you are. We’re just approaching where they told me to meet them. We left Isaac’s guys a couple of streets back.”

  Aaron swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Archer whispered, glancing down at the scraped table, then at Aaron’s now-clenched hands.

  “Sorry about that,” Aaron mumbled, surprised when Archer squeezed his arm before moving over to where Stewart sat at the laptop.

  “Can you make it any louder?” Archer asked, but Stewart shook his head.

  “That’s as loud as it’ll go. Sorry.”

  It was easily loud enough for Aaron; he’d hear everything.

  At the moment, Harry’s and Isaac’s footsteps were the only sounds that filled the room. They were soft, quiet against the pavement. Aaron suspected he was the only one that could hear them.

  “Almost there.” Harry still spoke in a whisper, and the four SCTF officers leaned closer to the speaker. “We can hear them… sounds like two, maybe three of them chatting. Can’t make out words yet though.”

  Only three? If they knew Harry was a shifter, wouldn’t there be more of them? Surely they didn’t expect him to come alone? That wasn’t how packs worked.

  “They’ve got guns,” Harry muttered, a few seconds later, voice barely audible now. “We can see them.”

  Of course, how had he forgotten that pertinent piece of information? A well-placed bullet would stop Harry in his tracks, no matter how fast he was. And he couldn’t tackle three at once.

  But he had Isaac.

  “What did he just say?” Archer asked, leaning close.

  “They’ve got guns,” Aaron said quietly, then sat down and rested his elbows on the table, head i
n his hands. No one around seemed shocked by that revelation, the room silent as they all listened.

  “Nash,” a voice said, one that Aaron recognised immediately. “And who the fuck is this?”

  Aaron nudged Archer, getting his attention. “That’s Blake,” he said. Archer nodded and scribbled something down on a bit of paper.

  “Isaac, my beta.” Harry sounded remarkably calm for someone facing three men with guns in what Aaron assumed was a dark alley. But then with Isaac backing him up, why shouldn’t he?

  Silence.

  Then Blake again. “We’re all armed, so don’t try anything unless you want to test shifter speed against how quickly I can shoot.”

  Isaac or not, Aaron felt the colour drain from his face as he imagined three guns now pointed at them both.

  “We want to get this done as quickly as possible,” Harry answered.

  A slight tremor in his voice, that probably only Aaron and Isaac could detect, but he still sounded calmer than Aaron felt.

  “I’m sure this seems like overkill for such a small amount,” Blake went on. “But Mr Smith handles all debts from shifters this way, regardless of the amount owed.” How many debts from shifters did he have? “He likes to keep it away from everything else. Just in case.”

  Just in case it went bad and a shifter tried to kill them? Yeah, that might be bad for business, but Aaron didn’t think that was the reason. More likely it was easier to kill them and dispose of the body this way. Fewer witnesses.

  Aware he was letting his imagination run riot, Aaron fidgeted in his seat until a hand on his shoulder steadied him. Again Archer’s touch was soothing, but Aaron didn’t like how quickly he’d come to see it that way.

  “You got the money?” A different voice this time.

  Aaron frowned for a second, trying to place it, then glanced at Archer and said, “West.” Archer scribbled it down alongside his other notes, smiling when Aaron pointed at the speaker and added, “Wanker.”

  West was an arsehole. Always gave Aaron lip and watched him in a way that made Aaron uneasy, like he suspected what Aaron was. But West also came off as an idiot—if he thought Aaron was a shifter, he’d have blabbed to his boss before now, not kept quiet for his own nefarious purpose.