Butterfly Assassin Page 5

  “I know.”

  Harry cleared his throat. “That’s not all.”

  “Oh?” The what the fuck, now? heavy in Sam’s tone.

  Aaron squeezed Harry’s wrist again.

  “I owe him money.”

  “Harry.” The frustration filling that one word made them both cringe. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, body tight with tension. “How much?”

  “A hundred and fifty pounds,” Harry mumbled, head down.

  Sam visibly relaxed. “Thank fuck. I thought you were going to say thousands.”

  Harry looked affronted. “I’m not that stupid.” He fidgeted again under Sam’s stare.

  “It’s a slippery slope, Harry, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  “I appreciate that you’ve come to me, albeit later than I would have liked, and not left it to the police or another alpha to inform me of my pack members’ illegal activities. However…”

  Aaron tensed. This was the part he’d been dreading.

  Sam let out a deep sigh, as though reluctant to say the next part. “There will be consequences. There has to be.”

  Both Harry and Aaron nodded, accepting their fate. “Yes, Alpha.”

  “For one, this stops now. No more visits to Smith’s fights or any other fights or illegal gambling.” He looked pointedly at Harry. “No more gambling at all. If you ever feel like you’re struggling, then contact me or Isaac immediately, no matter what time of day or night.”

  Aaron knew Harry well enough to know that last part grated. He imagined him dying to mutter, “I’m not that bad,” but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

  At the mention of Isaac, Aaron glanced over at him. He’d been quiet for the whole of the meeting so far, silently observing from the chair opposite.

  Sam gestured to Isaac with a wave of his hand. “I’ll take some responsibility for this. You needed a beta, and you didn’t have one. That’s my fault. I thought I had time to find the perfect replacement, but that was a serious oversight on my part. From now on, Isaac will take over that role. I’ll assign the others in your old unit to Nick and Phil for the time being.”

  Aaron looked over to Isaac and received a warm smile in return. The comforting sense of belonging washed over him. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed being part of a unit until that moment. Harry relaxed next to him.

  Maybe everything would be okay after all?

  If Sam was assigning them a beta, then that meant he wasn’t kicking them out of the pack at least. But he still had to ask. “Are you going to report us to the police?”

  They’d broken the law, and now that Sam knew, he was responsible for them as their alpha. He could find himself in serious trouble if they got caught by the police.

  “You said you have no information that could help with their investigation, and I’d rather not involve the human police if we can help it.” When he spoke again, a trace of alpha power laced his voice. “Do you plan to continue breaking the human laws?”

  Aaron clenched his fists and shook his head vehemently. “No, Alpha.”

  “No, Alpha,” Harry added, just as strongly.

  “Then I consider the matter dealt with. But…”

  Holding his breath, Aaron waited to hear their punishment.

  “Until I decide otherwise, you’re both on a 10.00 p.m. curfew, unless you’re working. And I’ll know if you don’t stick to it.” Aaron didn’t doubt it. “You’re also both on probation for the next six months. Should you do anything that I consider detrimental to this pack—and that includes missing curfew—then I will have no choice but to contact the alpha council and let them deal with you however they see fit.”

  Aaron swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. That would almost certainly mean banishment from their pack.

  “Is that understood?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  Sam nodded, then faced Harry. “When do you have to pay your debt?”

  “Thursday.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Isaac offered. “Both of you. Harry, you’ll pay what you owe and close any accounts you have, and Aaron can inform them he’ll no longer be fighting. I’ll bring a couple of members of my unit so they know we mean business.”

  “But—” Aaron faltered under Isaac’s glare.

  “But what?”

  “They don’t know I’m a shifter or that I know Harry. If we turn up with three more in tow, then they’ll realise and things could get nasty.”

  Isaac scoffed. “I can handle myself.”

  “They have guns,” Aaron whispered. “I’ve seen them.”

  Sam let out a harsh breath, frustration pouring off him. He probably wanted to strangle both of them for being so fucking stupid. “Isaac, take two of your unit. Hang back enough to stay out of sight but close enough that you can hear what’s going on.”

  Isaac nodded.

  Turning back to Aaron and Harry, Sam said, “Unless there’s anything else you two need to tell me, I think we’re done for today.”

  They both stood quickly. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t make me regret this.”

  They wouldn’t.

  The urge to please his alpha flowed through him like a physical thing, and Aaron knew Harry would feel the same. No way would they step foot inside one of Smith’s fighting venues again. And a 10.00 p.m. curfew was generous, considering they could’ve ended up behind bars.

  “Come see me first thing tomorrow, and I’ll introduce you to my unit, formally,” Isaac said, expression warm.

  “Okay.” Aaron smiled at his new beta, then grabbed Harry and headed towards the door, more than ready to get out of there.

  Once out in the hallway, with the door firmly shut behind them, Harry blew out a breath and his shoulders relaxed. “That went better than I was expecting.”

  “Yeah.” Aaron bumped Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s go back to your place, though. I could do with a few shots after that.”

  “Good idea.”

  Maybe if they drank them quick enough, they could forget about this mess for a little while.

  THEY MET Isaac at his flat at nine thirty Monday morning. But before they’d even gone inside, Aaron caught his alpha’s scent and glanced down the hallway to see Sam striding towards them.

  His resigned voice stopped them in their tracks. “Change of plan,” he ground out, phone in hand, face pale. “I just spoke to Detective Sergeant Archer of the SCTF.”

  Oh no.

  “It seems they’ve identified the victim from Friday night and have forensic evidence connecting him to Aaron, possibly on the night he was killed.”

  “What?” How can I be connected to the victim? “That’s impossible. I didn’t kill anyone!” His voice sounded a little shrill with panic.

  Isaac studied him as he asked, “Does the name Charles Crossford mean anything to you?”

  “No.” Aaron shook his head. “I don’t know anyone by—” Oh fucking hell. The guys he fought never used their real names, and neither did he. Could Charlie Cross, be Charles Crossford? It seemed too much of a coincidence otherwise, and in that case, Aaron knew exactly what forensic evidence connected him to the victim.

  “Bollocks.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Frank parked outside the main Clapham Common pack buildings, and Michael consulted the folder in his lap. A grainy ID photo of Aaron Harper stared back at him. Age twenty-six, employed by the pack and worked in several of the pack-owned businesses. Even with the poor-quality photo, Michael could appreciate Aaron was hot. Maybe a murderer, too, he reminded himself and slapped the folder shut.

  Staring out the passenger-side window, he pointed at the buildings next to them. “That’s Harper’s building, and Alpha Thomas’s flat is in the one next door.”

  “And Harper’s with Thomas?”

  “Apparently.”

  Frank grinned. “How fortuitous.”

  “For us.” Michael turned to f
ace him. “I’m not sure they’ll be too thrilled with what we’ve got to say.”

  “Too bad. We’ve finally got something to investigate, and I want to know every single thing Harper knows.”

  Slipping the folder into his bag, Michael gripped the door handle. “Let’s go find out, then.”

  Two shifters met them at the entrance to the building. Michael pulled out his warrant card and held it up; Frank did the same. “Detective Sergeants Archer and Coldwell to see Alpha Sam Thomas.”

  They were waved through immediately. “He’s expecting you. Second floor, flat 3A.”

  Michael already knew where to go, but he nodded his thanks and slipped his ID back into his pocket. They didn’t speak on the way up. Anything they said now could be overheard by someone in the building, so they’d done all their talking in the car on the way there.

  Unlike the ground and first floor, which held four flats each, there were only two on the second. Clearly, alphas got double the room. He turned and raised an eyebrow at Frank, getting an eye roll in return.

  “Bloody alphas,” Frank mouthed.

  The second floor was quiet. In fact, the whole building had been quiet. Too quiet. He was just about to mouth it to Frank when he remembered. Shifter flats were soundproofed. For fuck’s sake, he needed to remember these things.

  Michael glanced up at the camera outside Thomas’s front door and wondered if they were being watched. The thought made him uncomfortable, and he looked away quickly, rolling his shoulders to shake some of the tension out of them. Frank looked over at him but didn’t comment.

  The click of the lock sounded loud in the hallway, and they both straightened. When the door opened to reveal someone other than Alpha Sam Thomas, Michael said, “And you are?”

  “Isaac Lax.”

  Ahh. “Pack beta.” He’d brushed up on the Clapham Common pack structure on the way over in the car.

  Isaac gave a slight nod. “That’s right.” He stepped back and held the door open. “Come in, they’re waiting for you in the living room.”

  Michael went inside first, Frank right behind him.

  The short hallway was clean and tidy, coats hung up on a rack near the door, a couple of pairs of shoes placed neatly next to the mat. Michael wasn’t sure what he’d expected an alpha’s home to look like, but so far it was probably something like this. Being in charge of a pack of shifters, he imagined they needed to have good organisational skills.

  Isaac closed the door behind them, and when Michael glanced back, he smiled and gestured for Michael to go ahead. The living room was big; a corner sofa and two armchairs filled the space nicely. Looking around as they walked over the threshold, Michael noted the photos on the walls, cushions and a throw on the furniture—it made it seem lived in, homey.

  The three shifters looking his way were far less welcoming.

  Alpha Thomas stood next to the unlit log burner, facing him and Frank. Two others sat on the sofa, looking over their shoulders. Michael recognised Aaron Harper straight away, and wow, his ID photo didn’t do him justice at all. Dark brown hair—shaved at the back and sides, longer at the front so it fell over his forehead. A strong, sharply defined jaw, full lips, and grey-blue eyes that were currently narrowed and fixed on Michael.

  Michael swallowed and pushed away the stir of attraction before it became obvious to everyone in the room. This was so not the time. He focused on the person sitting next to Harper, who looked vaguely familiar. All shifters were fit-looking—muscles and a toned physique coming easy to them—and it took Michael a moment to place the second person on the sofa.

  Harry Nash.

  Also a member of the Clapham Common pack, and from what he could recall from their identification cards, he’d been bitten roughly the same time as Aaron. Michael hadn’t been all that surprised. That first year after the pack wars, alphas were desperate to rebuild their packs and the criteria for getting the bite wasn’t as strict back then.

  “Good Morning, Detectives.” Alpha Thomas gestured at the empty part of the corner sofa. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  Michael offered what he hoped was a professional-looking smile and a slight nod of his head. “Thank you.” He and Frank sat down, and Thomas took one of the chairs.

  “I’m sure you already know who’s who,” Thomas said, a trace of sarcasm in his tone. “But for everyone else’s benefit, why don’t we start with introductions?”

  Michael bristled at Thomas attempting—and succeeding—to take charge of the meeting. This was their investigation; he and Frank should be leading this. Reaching for his warrant card again, he flipped open the wallet, holding it up for everyone to see. “I’m Detective Sergeant Michael Archer of the Shifter Crimes Task Force, and this is my partner, Detective Sergeant Frank Coldwell.” Not missing a beat, and wanting Thomas to know they’d done their homework, he added, “And you would be Alpha Sam Thomas.” He turned his attention to Harper and Nash. “And these are two of your pack members, Aaron Harper and Harry Nash.”

  Thomas smiled, eyes shining with amusement at Michael’s display, and nodded at someone to the left of them. “And this is one of my betas, Isaac Lax.”

  Michael startled slightly as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and then Isaac appeared, walking over to take the other chair. Michael hadn’t even heard him come into the room. Damn shifters. Straightening his shoulders, he glanced at Frank, happy to see his partner unaffected by it all. One of them needed to keep their shit together.

  “Now that’s out of the way, what can we do for you?”

  Michael cleared his throat and bent to retrieve a folder from his bag. “We’d like to ask both you and Mr Harper some questions in connection with our current investigation.”

  Thomas met his gaze, studying him, and Michael wanted to squirm under the intensity of it, but he held firm. “And if we decline to answer?”

  “Then we’ll be insisting that Mr Harper accompany us back to our offices and we’ll conduct the interview there.”

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “Insisting?”

  “I believe I told you on the phone that we have significant forensic evidence tying Harper to our victim…” He made a show of looking at his notes when really he just wanted to make them sweat a little. “A Mr Charles Crossford.”

  Harper flinched, and Michael did a little internal fist pump. So he recognised the name. “Is that name familiar to you Mr Harper?”

  Aaron Harper glanced at his alpha, as though seeking permission to speak, so Michael prompted him again, quickly. He didn’t want pack politics interfering with this. “Mr Harper?” Opening the folder, he withdrew a copy of Crossford’s driving licence. It was the only photo they’d got that had his throat intact. Handing it over to Harper, he asked, “Do you recognise this man?”

  When Thomas gave a quick nod, Harper sighed and ran a hand through his hair before sitting forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the photo, and Michael could already tell from his body language that Harper knew him.

  “Yeah, I recognise him. I knew him as Charlie Cross, but it’s the same guy.” Harper stared at the photo for a few seconds more, then looked down at the floor.

  “We recovered a rucksack from the scene, belonging to Mr Crossford,” Michael said. “Any idea what we found inside it?”

  Harper met his gaze, and Michael was surprised to see a slight challenge in his expression. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” Harper’s eyes darkened, and Michael found himself wanting to smile despite the gravity of the situation.

  Pulling another photo from his folder, Michael held it up for everyone to see.

  Frank tapped the middle of it, finger landing on the mound of tape lying next to the rucksack. “Inside Mr Crossford’s bag, we found a wad of bloodied tape. The sort of tape used to wrap a person’s hands before they engage in a boxing match.” He turned his attention to Harper. “We can only assume that’s what he used it for, but Mr Crossford’s DNA was found on the inside of the tape,
and your blood was on the outside.” All shifters were required by law to register their DNA as well as their pack status—a fact Michael had never been more grateful for. He paused, and the room was quiet except for the breaths of those inside it. “Can you explain to us how it got there, Mr Harper?” Any second now, he expected someone in the room to ask for a lawyer.

  With a resigned sigh, Harper glanced up at the ceiling—as if it held all the answers—then looked Michael dead in the eye. “I fought in a bare-knuckle boxing match Friday night. Charlie Cross was my opponent.”

  “I see.” Michael schooled his expression, not wanting to let on how excited he was by this admission. As far as they or the other police units knew, Smith was the only one who organised illegal fights in the city. Did they finally have someone willing to testify against him? Trying not to get ahead of himself, he asked, “You’re aware a bare-knuckle fight is illegal?”

  “I am.”

  “Where did it take place?”

  “In the underground car park of the old Stewart-Price building.”

  That was just down the road from where the body was found. Michael glanced to his left to see Frank hastily making notes.

  Good.

  Keeping his voice steady, Michael asked, “Do you know who organised this boxing match?”

  Harper paused, considering the question, and Michael held his breath. “I don’t know his real name; I just know him as Mr Smith.”

  Bingo.

  “Do you have any proof that he organised it?”

  Harper frowned. “Proof?” He glanced at his alpha, clearly asking for help.

  Sam Thomas stood and crossed his arms. Sitting down and being forced to look up at him, Thomas appeared even more imposing. Michael fought the urge to shuffle back in his seat, away from him.

  “Detectives, you’ll notice we haven’t asked for legal representation for Mr Harper. He’s answering your questions because a human died on Friday night, and he wants to help in any way possible—”

  “He’s just admitted to taking part in an illegal fight. Against a human,” Frank cut in. “And if our sources are correct, these fights are supposed to be human combatants only. Am I correct?”