Butterfly Assassin Page 4

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as they were back in the fresh air, Michael took a deep breath in. “God, I could never do that job.”

  Frank grunted and headed towards the car park. “It’s the smell.”

  “And everything else.” The thought of handling someone’s internal organs made his stomach roil. At least he didn’t throw up at the sight any more. He glanced at Frank as they walked. “Back to the office or following up on Crossford’s frequent caller?”

  Frank swung his keys on his finger, stopping when they reached the car. “We could stop by the office. Take a look at all the evidence Miller sent over.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  All the forensic evidence Miller and his team collected would have been sent to the lab to be analysed. It was up to Michael and Frank to use that evidence and liaise with the local packs.

  Miller had sent them a full inventory of what had been collected. When they were back at their desks, Michael opened his laptop and pulled it up.

  The most interesting items were the victim’s phone and his backpack—specifically, the tape it contained inside. They wouldn’t know whose blood was on that tape for at least another day, at the earliest, by Michael’s estimations.

  He scanned through his notes on the latest victim until he found the name he was looking for—Gavin Foster. Crossford had called him three times on Friday afternoon, and they’d exchanged a flurry of texts later that evening, according to the phone records. Crossford had deleted all the messages, but maybe Foster hadn’t.

  Reaching for the car keys from Frank’s desk, Michael said. “Let’s go pay a visit to Mr Foster.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Aaron spent Saturday afternoon holed up in his flat, catching up on all his Sky+ recordings. He had the weekend off work—he only ever fought on those weekends and it was easier if he didn’t go outside. Less risk of someone seeing him.

  He had no idea who’d watched his fight on Friday night other than Smith, his bunch of idiots, and Harry. Everyone else was pretty much a blur. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t recognise him if they saw him out and about.

  A glance in the mirror showed him a face free from injury—apart from a small scar above his right eyebrow, but that would never disappear.

  As soon as he’d fallen asleep early Saturday morning, no longer in control of his body’s healing process, his wounds had fixed themselves. Not a trace of the injuries remained.

  He might not have been badly hurt on Friday, and his face had largely been spared, but he’d had enough visible bruises and the odd cut to be noticeable. And ten hours was nowhere near enough for them to have healed naturally. A week was probably the minimum they’d take to disappear if he wasn’t a shifter, but he couldn’t affect what happened when he was asleep.

  After the first time it happened, Aaron had learnt to photograph his face and hands. If it came down to it, and he absolutely had to, he could re-create his injuries. He’d also got creative with make-up, thanks to a couple of YouTube tutorials.

  It was an awful lot of effort to go to for something that could get him arrested and in serious trouble with his alpha.

  But he wouldn’t have to do it again after this time.

  The thought made him smile, despite the slight pang at the thought of no more fights. The adrenaline rush it gave him wasn’t worth the risk, for him or Harry.

  Showered and dressed, Aaron grabbed his keys and phone before leaving his flat.

  If neither of them were working, he and Harry spent Sunday afternoon together. They took it in turns to cook Sunday lunch—a tradition carried over from their youth.

  When they’d both been human.

  He lived in the same pack building as Harry. They used to be under the same beta, but not anymore. They weren’t under anyone at the moment.

  Their old beta had met and fallen in love with a Welsh shifter and had moved away to be with her and become a member of her pack. That had been four months ago, and their alpha had yet to replace him.

  If they’d had a beta to report to, someone keeping a closer eye on them, Aaron suspected neither of them would have ended up involved with illegal boxing.

  Harry lived on the floor above him, and after jogging up the stairs, Aaron walked along the hall, knocking on Harry’s door when he got there. All the flats were soundproofed to some degree. No one wanted to listen in on their neighbours. As a result, each front door was equipped with a security camera and a doorbell that connected to the bedrooms and bathrooms, which were fully soundproofed.

  Since Harry was expecting him, Aaron didn’t bother with the doorbell.

  He waved at the security camera above the door as he waited and mouthed, “Hurry up, you great tosser.”

  Eventually, Harry pulled the door open. “I don’t watch that all the time, you know.” He gestured at the camera above his door and rolled his eyes. “You have no way of knowing if I’m there or not, so why do you bother?”

  Aaron grinned. “Bollocks. I know you’ve got it connected to your phone. As soon as I knocked on the door, you were watching.”

  “Was not,” Harry mumbled. But Aaron knew better because he was exactly the same. And besides, Harry expected him to mouth something or pull a face. He’d be disappointed if Aaron didn’t do it.

  Standing back, Harry held the door open for Aaron to come in, studying his face as Aaron walked past him. “All healed, then?”

  “Yep.”

  Harry shook his head. “When you think about it, I’m amazed we’ve got away with it this long.”

  Aaron scoffed. “You mean I’ve got away with it. I’m pretty sure there’s no physical evidence to show that you spent Friday night gambling.”

  “I know, but still…” He nudged Aaron with his shoulder. “We must stink when we leave that place.”

  “Which is why we go to Lycanis afterwards—to drown in all that shifter scent.” He closed his eyes and breathed in, smiling. “Talking of scents, whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”

  “Thanks.” Grinning, Harry led them through to the kitchen diner.

  Aaron immediately walked over to the slow cooker and peered in through the glass top. “Pulled pork?”

  “Yep.”

  Mouth watering, Aaron patted his stomach. “I’m starving. How long?”

  “About five minutes.” Harry grabbed Aaron’s shoulders and turned him to face the cupboards. “Set the table, and I’ll get everything ready to dish up.”

  With plates of pulled pork, mashed potato, fine green beans, and gravy, they sat down to eat. After a few mouthfuls, Harry pointed his fork at the TV. “Did you see the news yesterday?”

  Aaron shook his head.

  “I meant to text you but I forgot. Anyway, they found a dead body not far from where we were Friday night.”

  Setting his knife and fork on his plate, Aaron sat back in his seat. “When?”

  “Um… Saturday morning, I think.”

  Aaron tensed. “That’s not all, is it?”

  “No.” Harry reached for the TV remote. “I recorded the last bit of the news to show you.”

  Aaron watched the screen as Harry scrolled through for the news snippet.

  “Here we go.” Harry set the remote on the table and picked up his fork again.

  The reporter for Sky News was standing on the opposite side of the road to an alleyway blocked off with police crime scene tape. The recording cut in halfway through her report. “—victim’s identity has yet to be released. Sources say the investigation has been passed over to the Shifter Crimes Task Force, but as of yet, there’s been no official statement from Detective Chief Inspector Arlington.” She paused, and the camera zoomed into the mouth of the alley before cutting back to her. “If this is indeed now being investigated by the SCTF, it would make it the third death with suspected shifter involvement in the last three weeks.” She went on to talk about whether or not the alpha council should be involved with the investigation and how safe were the streets of Londo
n and what could the police do to protect them from a shifter.

  Harry turned it off with a sigh, and Aaron sat back, still staring at the TV. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled. Not knowing what else to say.

  “Yep. It’s going to be fun times ahead until they catch them.”

  Every now and again, a shifter would make the news after supposedly committing some crime or other and would be the headline for a day or so, but things soon moved on when they were either arrested or exonerated. As a matter of course, shifters tended to get wary looks from humans who knew what they were, but not since the pack wars had there been a question of whether they were safe to be around.

  Aaron hated it.

  Hated having someone look at him with fear, as though he would attack them any second. Yes, he had superior strength and natural weapons in the form of claws and teeth, but he wasn’t a mindless animal who attacked without provocation. None of them were.

  He glanced back at the TV again. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

  There was always one who had to ruin it for the rest of them.

  “I hope they catch him soon.” Aaron tapped his fingers on the table. “Do you reckon it really is a shifter?”

  Harry shrugged. “If this is the same person who committed the first two crimes, then absolutely. You heard what Sam said about it.”

  “I guess.” Their alpha, Sam Thomas, had held a pack meeting after members of the SCTF had been to see him. The SCTF met with all the London packs—because if it was a shifter, then it was either a member of a local pack or a visitor.

  “The police showed him photographs of the victims. I think he’d be able to tell if someone had been killed by one of us or not, and I’m sure I remember him saying that a doctor from the shifter hospital had also examined the bodies. Whether we like it or not—it’s one of us, Aaron.”

  Aaron didn’t like it one bit. Their relationship with humans was pretty good in general. The laws put in place seemed to do their job most of the time. For those that broke the law, they had the alpha council and Krillick Hall. Not wanting to sound like he’d been watching too much TV, Aaron bit his lip but then said it anyway. “So there’s a shifter serial killer out there. And none of the packs are talking.”

  Harry grimaced, and Aaron followed suit. It sounded worse when he said it out loud.

  “We were so near to where the body was found.” Harry fidgeted in his seat. “We might have seen them. Fuck, they might have been at the bloody fight.” He glanced up at Aaron with wide eyes. “We could be witnesses, A. Should we tell someone? Sam or—” He swallowed and gestured to the TV. “—maybe the SCTF?”

  The thought of owning up to what they’d been doing made Aaron feel sick. But people were dying. “I wasn’t paying much attention to the crowd Friday night. And the smell…” He wrinkled his nose. “Were there any other shifters there besides you?”

  “A couple, maybe.”

  “Did you recognise any of them?”

  Harry gave him a pointed look. “No. We tend to avoid each other like the plague. None of us should be there, so the less we know about each other the better. The stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke helps mask pack scents.”

  Aaron nodded. It did. And he could see why they wouldn’t want to acknowledge each other. “In that case, is there any point in coming forward? We have nothing relevant to add to the investigation.”

  “I know, but…” Harry shrugged again and bit his lip.

  Aaron got it. He felt the same need to come clean to their alpha. Keeping secrets in a pack was never a good thing, but since they no longer had a beta, it had been easier to fool themselves into thinking they weren’t hurting anyone. But people were dying, and despite what he believed, they might well have information that could help the police.

  “What if someone else comes forward? One of the other shifters who was there on Friday? They must’ve seen the news. Even if they didn’t notice me there, they would you.”

  Aaron bristled. That hadn’t actually occurred to him.

  Stupid.

  They might avoid each other, but there was no avoiding him—they probably made bets on his fights. He would if he was them.

  “Even if we get into trouble—”

  “Which we will.”

  Harry glared at him for interrupting. “Even then. It’ll be far worse if Sam has to hear it first from another alpha or the police.”

  Shit. Aaron ran a hand through his hair. “We’re gonna have to tell him.”

  Slumping in his seat, Harry sighed and reached for his phone. “Yeah.” Aaron watched as he typed out a message.

  “Who’re you texting? Isaac?”

  Harry nodded. “I think he’s our best option.”

  “Me too.” When they lost their beta, Aaron had hoped they might get moved into Isaac’s unit, but they hadn’t. Isaac was the kind of beta everyone wanted: fair, loyal, willing to listen. And he always protected his unit.

  “I’ve told him we need to see Sam urgently, in regard to the recent killings.”

  Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Fuck’s sake, he’ll think we did it.”

  “I want him to take us seriously.”

  Aaron snorted despite the gravity of the situation. “I suspect that’ll do it.”

  A few seconds later, Harry’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, startling them both.

  “What’s it say?” Aaron leaned forward across the table.

  “Meeting with him and Sam in twenty minutes.”

  They stared at one another.

  The food he’d just eaten sat heavily in Aaron’s stomach. “Bollocks.”

  “WHAT THE fuck were you thinking?” Alpha Sam Thomas paced in front of his TV, glaring at Aaron, then Harry, in turn, until his gaze finally landed on Aaron and stayed there. “Fighting?” He ran a hand through his silver-flecked hair, gripping it so tight Aaron fully expected to see clumps of it in his hands. “Am I right to assume it wasn’t a licenced event?”

  “Yes.” Aaron tried to appear smaller than his six-foot frame, hoping to somehow hide from the anger and disappointment rolling off his alpha. “It was an illegal bare-knuckle fight.”

  Throwing his hands in the air, Sam stared at him. “Why, Aaron? Why would you do something that’s not only against the law but could have such catastrophic consequences? You could’ve killed someone—a human—for fuck’s sake. Why would you risk that?”

  Aaron shrank further into the sofa, the reality of what they’d done hitting him hard. “I—” He didn’t want to say he’d done it to keep an eye on Harry. That he didn’t trust his friend not to get himself into trouble.

  “Do they know what you are?” Sam asked. “The people running these fights?”

  Aaron shook his head. “Shifters aren’t allowed to fight.”

  “And with good reason! It’s not exactly a fair fight, is it?”

  “I held back on my strength and speed, and I didn’t let myself heal.”

  Sam stared at him, his expression incredulous. “Again, why? Why go to all that effort?” He dropped to a crouch in front of Aaron, meeting and holding his gaze. “What do you think would’ve happened if you’d seriously hurt a human? Your opponents had no idea who, or should I say what they were facing. The police could put you in Krillick Hall for that alone, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop them. The alpha council would be on their side.”

  Shame filled Aaron, and he had to look away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Bloody hell.” Sam resumed his pacing.

  After a few moments of silence, Harry spoke. “It’s my fault.” All eyes turned to him. “Aaron only started fighting there because of me.” He glanced at Aaron and offered him a small smile. “I know you liked to fight, but you started going there because you were worried about me.”

  Sam focused on Harry. “Yes, Mr Nash. Let’s talk about your reason for being there.”

  Harry shuffled in position next to him, and Aaron reached out to grab his wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Taki
ng a deep breath, Harry said, “I went there to watch and bet on the fights.”

  “You know my thoughts on gambling, Harry.”

  Harry nodded. “I do, Alpha.”

  Sam made no attempt to hide his dislike of any type of gambling. It wasn’t forbidden, he wasn’t a dictator, but he strongly advised against it.

  “Illegal activities aside. Do you know why I dislike it?” He didn’t wait for Harry to answer. “Because we walk a fine line with the human population in this city. We can’t afford to become indebted to anyone, and gambling is addictive.” His voice softened. “As I’m sure you well know.”

  Harry sighed. “Yes, Alpha.” He bit his lip. “I should’ve stopped. I should never have let Aaron fight there—”

  “It was my choice,” Aaron insisted. Harry hadn’t coerced him. And if he was honest, it was more like Harry going to the fights to keep an eye on Aaron these past few times. “But for what it’s worth, we’d already decided to stop going there after Friday night.”

  Sam looked between them again, narrowing his eyes. “Why? What happened Friday night?”

  “I had a meeting with Mr Smith.”

  Eyebrows raised, Sam asked, “And that is…?”

  “The guy who runs the fights, among other things. The big boss, so to speak.”

  “Not the same Smith who also owns a couple of nightclubs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bollocks.” Sam shook his head. “He’s not someone you want to get involved with, Aaron.”

  “I know that. That’s why we decided to quit.” Aaron sighed. “Smith told me my opponent was supposed to throw the fight on Friday—go down in the second round. Only he didn’t do it. Apparently, Smith’s friends lost money on the fight.” More like fellow criminals. No wonder Smith had been pissed off. “The calculating way he looked at me told me that it wouldn’t be long before he was asking me to do shit like that, and I realised we were in way over our heads.”

  “You should’ve come to me sooner,” Sam said.

  They should have.

  Disappointment rolled off their alpha, the weight of it setting heavily on Aaron’s shoulders.