Butterfly Assassin Read online

  HE WAITED until he was clear of the building before texting Michael.

  You get out ok?

  The reply was immediate. Yeah, no problems.

  Thank fuck. I’ve left Smith. See you back at the flat.

  Okay.

  Neither of them had mentioned anything about what had happened, but via text wasn’t the way to do it.

  Since Harry was hopefully his ride home, he texted him next. I’m out. Where are you now?

  Leaning against the wall of the nearest building, he waited for Harry to reply. A minute or so later his phoned buzzed in his hand, Harry’s text telling him he was parked about a five-minutes walk away.

  On my way. He typed out and set off.

  Walking quickly with his head down, Aaron listened out for anyone following him. The odd shifter scent caught his attention, but all of it old, and no footsteps sounded from the direction he’d come.

  Harry had his engine running. Aaron heard the familiar rumble before he turned the corner and saw his car. He was parked facing Aaron’s way, and Aaron’s steps faltered when he saw who was in the passenger seat.

  Michael.

  Of course he’d met back up with Harry.

  Heat unfurled in his belly, a low growl creeping out before Aaron could stop it. Fuck, he needed to be better than this. Glancing over his shoulder to check he was still alone, he felt for the cuts and bruises on his face.

  Still there.

  Good.

  He couldn’t afford to lose control like he had in the bathroom.

  When he reached the car, he slipped into the back seat and was met with Harry’s raised eyebrow and a pointed look between him and Michael.

  Shit.

  He probably heard him growl, and he’d definitely smell sex.

  On both of them.

  He’d have smelt it on Michael as soon as he met up with him. Aaron wondered if Harry had said anything to him. He didn’t think so. Michael seemed unconcerned by their silent stare-off—eyes glued to his phone. Aaron gave a quick shake of his head, hoping Harry got the message. They could talk about this later.

  Much later if Aaron had his way.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked, sitting back in his seat, managing to give Michael’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he did. Whatever that was back there, Aaron wanted to keep that connection if he could. Maybe Michael wouldn’t stick to his rules now they’d already broken them.

  Starting the car, Harry said over his shoulder, “Change of plan. We’re meeting back at Sam’s flat. He and Isaac’ll be waiting there for us.”

  Fucking wonderful.

  Would his alpha be disappointed in him for getting involved with a member of the SCTF? He could explain that it was the only option they were left with under the circumstances, but Sam wasn’t stupid. And Aaron refused to lie to him anymore.

  “Frank’s on his way too,” Michael added.

  Great. The whole crew.

  Although at least Frank wouldn’t be able to smell what they’d been up to. He might be able to tell in other ways, though. Aaron had no idea how long he and Michael had been partners. Maybe he’d take one look at him and just know.

  When Michael turned in his seat to face him, expression all business except for the warmth in his eyes, Aaron forgot about everything else going on around them. Whatever would happen would happen, regardless of how much he stressed over it. He couldn’t change what they’d done, and he wouldn’t even if he could. “He said he’s got an update from Alpha Wallace.”

  Aaron smiled. “Let’s hope it’s something useful.”

  “I won’t hold my breath with the way this case has gone so far.” He ran a hand through his hair, fingers splayed, and Aaron couldn’t help but remember them fisted in his own hair. “I want to ask you how it went with Smith, but I guess we should save that discussion until everyone’s there. No point telling it twice.”

  Letting his head fall against the headrest, Aaron sighed. “It wasn’t as enlightening as we’d hoped. But yeah, I guess we should wait until we get to the flat.”

  No one said anything else for the remainder of the drive home, but surprisingly, considering everything that had happened that night, the atmosphere was more relaxed than uncomfortable. Maybe the others felt like he did—just fucking glad to be out of there.

  Harry pulled up outside their building at the same time as Frank was getting out of his car. He nodded a greeting and walked straight over to them.

  “How did it go?” He directed his question to Michael, who shrugged, but Aaron caught the faint blush to his cheeks.

  “Nothing much to report,” Michael said. “It was too loud in there to hear specific conversations, but we can discuss it inside.”

  Aaron led the way. He wanted to talk to Michael on his own, wanted to get him alone, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. Maybe afterwards he could invite him back to his flat just to talk.

  As a member of the SCTF, Michael should know enough about shifters to realise what they’d done in the bathroom would have a profound effect on Aaron. Aaron just hoped he cared enough to want to discuss it. Michael liked him. Even if he hadn’t already said as much, instinct told him, and it had never let him down yet.

  Isaac met them at Sam’s door. His gaze landed on Aaron, but before he could ask anything, Aaron mouthed, “Later,” at him. To his credit, Isaac’s expression barely changed, but he’d understood. Suppressing a sigh, Aaron followed as Isaac ushered them inside and through to the living room where Sam waited. The chances of him getting Michael alone later were looking slimmer by the second.

  Sam’s gaze flicked between Aaron and Michael, and for fuck’s sake, sometimes having enhanced senses was such a pain in the arse. He could have kissed Isaac when he walked over and whispered something to Sam that stopped whatever it was he was about to say. The look he levelled at Aaron told him they’d be talking about it after the meeting though.

  Michael yawned, then immediately held a hand up in apology. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  Aaron cracked his neck and rubbed at his shoulders. It’d been a long day for him too, but he still felt buzzed from the fight and what had happened after. Although meeting with Smith and Blake had set him on edge more than anything.

  Sam gave a wry smile. “You’re not the only one who feels that way. Let’s try to make this as quick as possible.”

  Hastily taking their seats in the living room, Frank started talking first. “Alpha Wallace called the office shortly before I left tonight.” He glanced at Sam. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of what she’s discussed with Alpha Yates?”

  Shaking his head, Sam laughed. “No, the alpha council aren’t in the habit of sharing their findings between the other packs.”

  “Not even when you’re involved in the case?” Frank asked.

  “We’re helping the SCTF, but we’re not part of the decision making in this investigation. There’s no requirement for Alpha Wallace to discuss anything with me first. As a courtesy to Alpha Yates, I would imagine she told your chief inspector to only pass on details that were pertinent to the case. Am I right?”

  Frank grinned, and Aaron didn’t remember ever seeing him smile before. It took years off him.

  He glanced at Michael—which turned out to be a mistake because Michael was looking straight at him. Heat rushed through him, and he quickly looked away before he embarrassed himself in front of his alpha. Well, any more than he already had.

  “As a matter of fact, I believe that’s exactly what was said,” Frank admitted. “Basically, Alpha Wallace shared the crime scene locations with Alpha Yates, and he was able to confirm they traced Wilson to the shifter clubs and near to where victim number one, the bartender, was found, but not near the other two. She also shared copies of the text messages, and according to both his alpha and sister, the message recipients, they seemed in keeping with his usual communication. Nothing struck them as out of the ordinary.”

  “So they think he sent them all?” Michael ask
ed.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Where’s his phone now? Can they trace it?”

  Frank sighed. “No. Battery’s probably dead.”

  “Or someone destroyed it.”

  “Yeah, or that.” He sat back against the sofa cushions, his part over, and eyed Michael curiously. “How did your night go? And why are you wearing gloves?”

  “They’re mine,” Aaron answered without thinking. Then all eyes were on him.

  Fuck.

  Michael peeled them off and handed them to him, revealing red, slightly swollen knuckles on his right hand. “I wore them to hide my hands after I hit him.”

  “What?” Frank and Sam asked at the same time.

  Aaron felt himself flush. Shit. He was going to have to tell everyone why now. Maybe he could give them a cut-down version. “Michael came to find me after the fight.”

  “Which is against Smith’s rules, apparently,” Michael chipped in.

  “Two of his men came looking for me, to tell me Smith wanted a word.” He shot Michael a look that he hoped conveyed let me tell it. When Michael didn’t add anything this time, he carried on. “They’d have been suspicious if they’d found him there, so we improvised.”

  “Improvised?” Isaac smirked, and Aaron knew he was putting two and two together.

  “I acted like Michael was my boyfriend, and they believed us.”

  Frank leaned forward to pick up one of the discarded gloves. “And how did he come to need these?”

  Aaron willed himself not to outwardly react as he said, “They gave us ten minutes to… you know.” He waved a hand about and was pretty sure Harry’s sudden cough smothered a laugh. “Anyway, I lost concentration and my injuries from the fight all healed. Since I couldn’t let them see me like that, Michael had to hit me.” He met Michael’s gaze, surprised to find his expression pained. Before he could say anything, Isaac was up and walking into Sam’s kitchen.

  “Let me get you some ice for that hand.”

  Michael looked up at him, breaking eye contact with Aaron. “Thank you.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Aaron avoided looking anyone in the eye until Isaac returned with a bag of ice for Michael.

  After he’d settled the ice against his knuckles, Michael turned to Aaron. “You met with Smith afterwards, right?”

  “Yeah, he was waiting in his car out the back, with Blake.”

  “What did he have to say, anything useful?”

  Aaron quickly told them what he’d overheard when Smith and Blake were in the car and what Smith had said to him after that.

  “Is that everything?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah.” Aaron sighed. “I wish I had something more to give you, but that’s all they said.”

  “Assuming they didn’t know you could hear, it still doesn’t give us much to go on. They could just be worried about the police finding out about his illegal fight nights.”

  “Sorry.” Aaron felt like he’d let them down, which was ridiculous. He’d done his part. He couldn’t make Smith tell them what they wanted to hear. Not without getting arrested anyway.

  Frank eyed him, eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should fight next Friday. He might be a little more loose-lipped if you win again.”

  “I don’t think—” Aaron began, but Sam cut him off.

  “With all due respect, Detective.” The hint of alpha power in his voice made the hairs on the back of Aaron’s neck rise. “There’s no way his injuries would have healed by then if he were human, so that means either trying to re-create them or faking them. I don’t want to risk Aaron being hurt, either because he’s fighting injured, or revealed to be a shifter mid-fight surrounded by a crowd of drunk and angry humans. Some of whom will be armed. Do you?”

  Frank looked suitably chastised. “No, Alpha Thomas. I don’t.”

  “It’s late and we’re all tired,” Michael said, attempting to smooth things over. “Let’s take a break and revisit this maybe Sunday or Monday.”

  Sam nodded, speaking for the rest of his pack. “I think that’s a good idea. Goodnight, Detectives.”

  Summarily dismissed, Michael and Frank stood. Aaron tried to catch his eye but failed, so he stood up too, along with Harry, preparing to leave as well.

  “Aaron,” Sam said, in that same tone. “I’d like a quick word if you don’t mind.”

  Arse.

  So close to freedom. He should have known this was coming.

  Harry clapped him on the shoulder as he shuffled past and whispered, “Good luck.” Aaron would have appreciated the gesture if Harry hadn’t been smiling while he said it.

  The door closed, shutting them off from whatever was now said in Sam’s flat.

  “Sit down, Aaron.”

  Aaron sat.

  “Now, tell me the parts in that story that you missed out.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Michael gingerly flexed the fingers on his right hand as he and Frank walked towards Frank’s car. Nothing was broken and the ice had helped, but it ached.

  Coming to a stop at the driver’s door, Frank turned to him. He looked from Michael’s face, to his hand, and then back again. “I texted Stewart and Bridgford to come and pick me up.”

  Michael frowned. “What for?”

  “Because.” Frank gave him a pointed look that made him feel about fifteen years old. “I think you need to talk to Harper.” He raised his hands, palms out. “I don’t need to know details, nor do I want them but we could be working with him and his pack for the next few weeks, maybe more. Sort it out, Arch.” He sighed. “I get it. I do. But you’ll be putting Arlington in a shitty position if you get involved with Harper now.”

  Fuck.

  He’d already crossed a line. A huge fat line. But he could still write that off as acting their part in an unexpected situation. If he stretched the truth a little. But Arlington didn’t need to know the details and probably wanted to even less than Frank did.

  It just couldn’t happen again.

  Frank tossed him his keys as Stewart’s car pulled up. Michael caught them with a wince, forgetting for a moment about his hand. “See you Monday.”

  “Yeah, and thanks.”

  After watching Frank ride away, wondering what excuse he’d given them for needing a lift and hoping he hadn’t gone with the truth—Michael sat on the wall running along the front of Thomas’s pack building and waited.

  The street was relatively quiet. He checked his watch—3.10 a.m. No wonder he was knackered. He’d started work at nine that morning, going straight to the fight from his office, and the night had turned out a lot differently than he’d been prepared for.

  Watching Aaron fight… He’d expected to hate it at least a little. Doing the job he did, he saw a lot of violence. Granted, most of the injuries he saw healed themselves, but he’d also seen some that hadn’t. Both on human and shifter.

  Aaron moved with such grace, such raw power. The way he’d carried himself across that dusty concrete floor, Michael could almost see the wolf in him—the bunch and expansion of his muscles as he stalked towards his opponent. Like hunting prey.

  Watching Aaron dance and weave around the makeshift ring, such strength and fluid beauty wrapped up in low-slung jeans and combat boots, had been the single hottest thing in his life to date. In retrospect, it was no wonder it ended up like it had.

  Michael lost his sense of professionalism the second Aaron entered the ring.

  God. This fucking case would be the death of him. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Frank was right.

  Tonight happened. There was nothing he could do about that now. But it couldn’t happen again. Ethics aside, Michael couldn’t afford to be distracted like that. They had a killer to catch.

  Ten maybe fifteen minutes later, the front door opened behind him. Michael didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. He couldn’t explain how, but he just knew.

  “Hey.” Aaron sounded surprised. His voice alone made Michael smile before he
caught himself. “I thought you’d left with Frank.”

  Turning to face him, Michael willed himself to act like the professional he was and not just say fuck it when he saw Aaron’s face.

  The face that was bruised because of him. The sight affected him more than it had earlier, maybe because they were alone now, but the evidence of it left a bad taste in his mouth. As Aaron approached, Michael met him halfway and reached up without thinking, lightly touching his jaw and his split lip. “I’m sorry.”

  Tilting his head to the side, Aaron scrunched his face up. “For what?”

  “For hitting you.”

  “I asked you to.”

  “I know that, but—”

  Aaron grabbed his hand, linking their fingers. “But nothing. If you hadn’t done it, they’d have known what I am. At best they’d have thrown us out, at worst…” He shrugged a shoulder. “You already suspect Smith of being involved in those three murders. Fuck knows what he might be capable of.”

  All that was true but… “I still feel like shit for hitting you.” He traced the cut across Aaron’s cheekbone, touch feather-light. It would be the easiest thing to lean in and kiss him. The way Aaron was looking at him, he wanted it too, but they couldn’t.

  Aaron’s breath caught, audible in the still air, and Michael took a step back, letting his hand fall.

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re saying that a lot tonight.” Aaron’s eyes held all their heat from before, even though the sad edge to his smile told Michael he knew what was happening. “What are you sorry for now?”

  “Because what happened tonight… can’t happen again.”

  “I see.” Aaron sighed, glancing up at the stars. “I just spent fifteen excruciating minutes explaining exactly what happened in that bathroom to my alpha and beta.”

  Michael winced. “I guess this is just adding to your shitty night?”

  Aaron moved lightning quick, pinning Michael against the low stone wall, one hand on the small of his back to steady him. The edge of the brick dug into the back of his thighs, but Michael barely felt it—lost in the heat of Aaron’s gaze. “My night was a lot of things—painful, electric, thrilling, hot… But it wasn’t shit, Michael.” He cupped Michael’s jaw, hands warm and smooth, all that strength, and yet his touch was gentler than Michael had ever been handled. “Sam and Isaac were of the same opinion as you.”