“Not that the chaos is to anyone’s surprise,” said a voice behind us. I turned and found Catcher frowning at the bar and slipping a cell phone into his pocket. I guessed he’d finished up his call. In addition to his snarky personality, Catcher was a connoisseur of snarky T-shirts. True to his style, today he wore jeans and a black tee that read IT’S NOT ME; IT’S YOU.
“Ethan. Merit,” he said, without looking at us. “Attempted hit?”
“That’s how it plays for now,” Ethan said, then tilted his head at my grandfather. “Given that the city isn’t aware of Gabriel’s biology or the Pack’s, I assume you’re here because we’re here?”
“The administration knows about shifters,” my grandfather explained, “but there’s no need to stretch the publicity further than they’re comfortable with.
Vampires were involved. That means I’m involved. We’ll do what we need to do to ensure the CPD has the information they need, without revealing information Mayor Tate doesn’t think they need to know.” Although Tate knew we existed—vampires and shifters alike—he was standoffish when it came to actually dealing with the Houses.
“He’s keeping the biology hush-hush?” I asked.
My grandfather nodded philosophically. “He’s keeping the men and women of this city safely at home, and not out on the streets rioting because they’ve discovered more strangers in their midst.” Since Celina’s announcement of the vampires’ existence had initially led to riots and chaos, I understood his point.
Catcher bobbed his head toward the bar. “Why the hit?”
“Political rivalry,” Ethan offered. “There seems to be some strain between the American leaders about whether to stay in Chicago—”
“Or bail,” I finished for him.
“The alphas don’t seem thrilled about the prospect of staying, of not heading back to Alaska. I know you aren’t investigators,” Ethan added, “but there’s a possibility Tony Marino, head of the Great Northwestern, was the source of the violence. He left in a fit, and the shots were fired by someone on a bike minutes later. Not strong evidence, but maybe it’s something to look into.”
My grandfather nodded. “We’ll get on it. I’m not sure what we’ll find in the ether, but we’ll see.”
I wondered if Noah or the RG had information that my grandfather didn’t have access to. Would it pay to join the RG, to increase my access to information about the Houses on a national scale?
“Did Keene give you any details about the security work he wanted to talk to you about?” Catcher asked.
“Merit and I are the security arrangement, as it turns out. He wanted us here tonight, obviously, and he wants us at the convocation on Friday.” Ethan frowned. “But if shifters are willing to take shots at him under cover of darkness, I’m not sure there’s a lot we can do beyond minimizing the collateral damage.”
“I assume the bartender was some of that collateral damage?” my grandfather asked.
“I think it’s a safe assumption the bullets weren’t intended for her,” Ethan confirmed.
The debriefing accomplished, my grandfather headed for the bar. I shifted my gaze to Catcher. He and I had things to discuss, so before he walked away, I touched his arm. He glanced back, his eyebrows raised in question.
“How’s Mal doing?” I asked him, but my silent questions were much different: Has she said anything about me? Mentioned me? Does she miss me?
“Why don’t you call her and ask her yourself?”
I gave him a flat stare. “The phone works both ways,” I pointed out. Besides, she’s the one who’d pushed me about Ethan, and who’d thrown my “Daddy issues” into my face. It might have been immature to avoid making the call, but she had as much to answer for as I did.
Catcher rolled his eyes haggardly. “She misses you, okay? My life will be much, much simpler when you two make up.”
God bless him for being confident that would happen.
“How’s her training proceeding?” Ethan asked.
Despite Catcher’s unpleasant relationship with the Order, the governing body for sorcerers and sorceresses and Mallory’s new bosses, his face blossomed into a proud grin. “Excellent. She’s kicking ass.”
“Of course she is,” I said, and when my grandfather glanced back from the door of the bar, gave Catcher’s arm a little shove. “Go play with Chuck.”
“Going,” he said. “And remember what I said. Do the right thing, Merit. Call her, even if it’s awkward.”
I had no doubt it needed to be done. Unfortunately, I also had no doubt it would be awkward. I was never great on the phone, and as much as I missed my girl and didn’t want my fangs and her magic to come between us, it still wasn’t a call I was ready to make.
Some days it didn’t pay to be a grown-up.
It was thirty more minutes before the extra police cruisers began to pull away from the curb, and ten more before Jeff, Catcher, and my grandfather emerged from the bar, leaving the shifters behind them.
“What’s the good word?” I asked when they approached.
My grandfather shook his head. “Gabriel doesn’t think Tony is capable of this.”
“Is he being objective?” Ethan asked.
Catcher shrugged. “Hard to say, but he does know Tony better than the rest of us.”
“It doesn’t read like an assassination on Gabriel,” Jeff said, his delicate features pulled into serious concentration. “The shots were at the bar, not any particular shifter. The shooter could have attempted to push his way inside, used a rifle, tried a sniperlike approach.” He frowned. “This reads more like a message—an attack against the Packs or the meeting, not Gabriel specifically.”
“The forensics folks will process the bullets,” my grandfather said. “Maybe they’ll find some trace, figure out the target and the perpetrator.”
“I, for one, would feel a lot better knowing the crazy shifter shooter was off the streets,” Jeff said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. But then he looked at me, a glint in his eyes. “Unless someone was willing to offer up some one-on-one protection?”
“Keep dreaming,” I said, but patted his shoulder cordially.
“Come on, Casanova,” Catcher said, steering him toward the car. “Let’s go use that hard drive you reformed.”
“Reformatted.”
“Whatever.”
We made our goodbyes, and my grandfather followed Catcher and a sheepish Jeff back to the Olds and their South Side office.
The remaining shifters—Gabriel, Adam, Jason, Robin, and a handful of blondish men I assumed to be more alphabetically named Keene siblings—walked outside and congregated near the door. A delivery truck pulled up to the curb, and two more men hopped out, then began lifting flats of particle board to place over the broken window. While the other brothers began to order and direct the repairmen, Gabriel, Adam, and the other Pack leaders walked over to where we stood.
“We appreciate your discretion tonight,” Gabriel said.
“It is the better part of valor,” I pointed out.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “Vampires no longer have the luxury of discretion, but I understand the need. Will you be able to keep the convocation under wraps after this?”
“I’m not worried about it. We’ll get in, we’ll meet, we’ll get out, and we’ll disperse back to our respective territories.”
“And whose territory is Chicago?” Ethan asked, his head tilted to the side. “You said Chicago was a city of power. Whose power?”
Gabriel shook his head. “You don’t want to know the answer to that one, vampire. While we’re waiting for the conference, we’ll focus on the investigation here.”