Making the Rent the Hard Way - 20

 

"Okay. Okay. So, our first step is finding out who it is then doing something to stop him. What you recorded won't do that."

"No kidding. Though Farnham must think it will, otherwise, why would he want me out of the picture?" Luca said.

I tapped my fingers together in thought. "Maybe we can use it."

"The recording? How?"

"I haven’t figured that part out yet," I admitted. "If I say I've got it or know what's on it, he'll know I found you. I'd rather not have to deal with the consequences."

"Yeah. He's a bastard. He'd do whatever it takes to get you to tell him where I am."

Curious, I asked, "You know that for a fact?"

Luca nodded. "More or less. One of the shifters who worked as a cook at the restaurant got in a fight with Farnham about his—the guy's—relationship with a human woman. Farnham told him to break it off. The guy said he wouldn't because his private life was none of Farnham's business. They almost came to blows. Two days later he committed suicide. At least, that was what the cops said it was. If Farnham can make that happen, you better believe he'd have no problem forcing you tell him where I'm hiding." He barely smiled. "Not that you can do that."

"Yeah. At which point I'd die wishing I could have. Not how I want my life to end, thank you very much."

Luca sighed. "We're at a dead end, unless we can get more proof about what Farnham's planning. Then we could let the humans know about it. Rumors in the shifter community are just that—rumors. And half of them like the idea of a shifter takeover of the city."

We sat in dismal silence for a long time after he'd said that. I knew stopping Farnham was probably not going to happen. He had too much going for him, including the tacit backing of a lot of the shifters in the city, if Luca was right.

"We could eliminate him," Luca said softly.

"Farnham or his candidate?"

"Farnham."

"If we did, one of the others would just step in to take his place."

Luca smiled grimly. "Not if I was the one who took him out. He's an alpha. Whoever defeats one, then becomes the new alpha."

"Defeats, Luca. Killing him without a fight doesn't count."

Luca's shoulders sagged. "Yeah. And there's no way I could beat him in a fair fight—or even an unfair one."

"Our only option is to get the goods on him. He has to have records somewhere on what he's planning. The steps. The details."

"Good luck with finding them, even if you could get into his office at the club or his house," he said, sounding disgruntled.

"Getting in isn't the problem, with you helping me."

"How would I…" Then he got it. "I've never been to his house."

"He's a bigwig, on lots of committees and what have you. I'd be willing to bet he's held get-togethers there. All we'd need are some pictures, right?"

"Right." Luca began to perk up again.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 19

 

Before I could react, we were somewhere else. Where? I had no clue and I was certain he wouldn't tell me.

"You could have warned me," I grumbled, looking around. We were in a small, but well-furnished, living room. "Yours?"

"For the time being." Luca went over to a desk in the corner of the room, came back with a laptop, then sat in one of two armchairs facing a stone fireplace. He gestured for me to take the other chair.

"Okay, let's hear what you have," I said.

Luca nodded, and a moment later I heard several men talking. I recognized Farnham's voice. They were discussing the upcoming election, specifically the candidates for mayor.

One of the men said, "We have to make certain our man wins, no matter what it takes."

"It won't be easy," another man replied. "With five people on the ballot, including the incumbent…" His voice faded out momentarily. "What do we have that we can use to damage her reputation?"

I figured the 'her' was a councilwoman who had decided to join the mayoral race.

Farnham replied, "I'm not worried about her. She's running a distant last in the polls. The mayor is the problem. He's got the backing of the Businessmen's Association, among other groups. We have to—" Again, Luca had missed the tail end of whatever was being said. I glanced at him to see him shaking his head.

"They were seated halfway across the room from the bar. If they lowered their voices, or turned away..." He shrugged.

"I can see that would have been a problem. Do you know which of the other three candidates is Farnham's man?"

"No. They only talked about him as 'our man'."

Luca played the rest of what he'd managed to record before they'd discovered he was there.

It was damned all, and, as he'd said, Farnham's candidate wasn't mentioned by name. Actually, no one was, as they were trying to figure out a way to deal with the mayor—to the point of one of them suggesting he have a fatal accident. Farnham quickly put the kibosh on that idea, saying it was asking for trouble of the wrong kind.

"Now what do we do?" Luca asked when the recording ended.

"It would be nice if I could get into that room and set up some bugs, but I know that's not happening. I wish you knew which one is his stooge."

"I'm not sure 'stooge' is the right word—and I don't," Luca said. "But you could find out easily enough, once you meet all the candidates."

"Just what I want to do, attend campaign rallies," I muttered, even though I knew he had a point. "Of course, there's one big stumbling block, when I figure it out. It's not against the law for a shifter to run for office."

"I know. In the first place, since he's doing it without revealing he's a shifter, humans would not be happy when they found out. It is illegal for a shifter to run for office without letting it be known he is one. That would end his run for mayor."

"Why didn't other shifters let that information out when he first decided to run? It seems to me they'd love to have their own candidate in the race."

"What part of humans would not be happy didn't you get?" Luca replied scathingly. "Like I said, he'd have been screwed then, and more so if it came out now."

 

 

It's release day for 'The Half-Elf and the Dhampir'!

 The Half-Elf and the Dhampir

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/the-halfelf-and-the-dhampir-p-3575.html

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08NGCWBYB

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-half-elf-and-the-dhampir-edward-kendrick/1138252324?ean=9781646565979

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-half-elf-and-the-dhampir

 

GENRE: Gay Paranormal Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 38,943 words
RATING:

When half-elf Gideon's elf brother Braden runs afoul of a powerful old vampire, Gideon steps in to help him, suggesting it might be a good idea to recruit a dhampir. Reluctantly, because the only one he knows enjoys flirting with his lover, the witch Delilah, Braden agrees. Thus sexy Edan joins the team, and immediately sets his sights on Gideon.

Vampire Vicario lives in New Orleans, so the team heads down there, staying at a B&B owned by another witch, Maeve. She agrees to help them, and together they come up with a plan to destroy Vicario. A plan complicated by the fact Vicario's tame sorcerer can see dhampir when they're invisible, thus potentially making it impossible for Edan to take Vicario's head.

To succeed in saving Braden will require all their combined skills. At the same time, Gideon is facing a personal battle: how to deal with his growing attraction to Edan. The sex is great, but there is more to a relationship than that, as he well knows. Can the two of them move beyond the physical -- if they survive the conflict with Vicario -- or will their differences tear them apart?

EXCERPT: 

          "All right, what's going on that you needed to visit?" Edan asked.

Braden puffed out a breath. "For starters, I'm in deep shit with Vicario because of something I did."

"So I've heard." Edan smirked. "Stole a lot of cash from one of his casinos."

"Not stole so much as took advantage of a couple of weaknesses." He paused, shrugged, and said, "Okay, yeah, technically I stole it, but it was for a good cause." He went on to explain what he'd done with the money.

When Braden finished, Edan said, "Very admirable of you. I'm impressed, and I mean it. Yeah, I know, don't faint." He chuckled when Braden lifted his middle finger. "I take it you need me to get him off your back. Let me tell you, it won't be easy getting to him, even for me. He's an Old one, as in very old, and well protected. Sure, he visited your brother with only two of his goons -- that he saw." He shot a look at look at Gideon. "Would you have known if there were other vampires around and invisible?"

"Probably not," Gideon admitted.

"Exactly. I'm sure Vicario knows that Braden's a full elf and fairly powerful in his own right. Fairly being the operative word of course, but Vicario's not known for taking chances where his life is concerned so he's undoubtedly taken that into consideration."

Gideon leaned back, took a sip of his coffee, and then asked, "Why haven't you dealt with him? From what Braden said you're no small shakes in the dhampir department."

"I also don't have a death wish. As I said, he's been around for a hell of a long time. Little old me, all on my lonesome, up against a vampire like him would be suicidal. However, perhaps, just perhaps, between the three of us we'd stand a chance."

Edan tried not to smile when he saw Gideon swallow hard before saying, "I'm not so sure I'd be an asset. My magic isn't terribly strong and I'm not a fighter."

"Do you know which end of a sword to use?" Edan asked.

"Well, duh."

"Can you cast a glamour to hide yourself?"

Gideon waggled his hand. "For a while."

"I can hide both of us," Braden put in. "I'd say all three of us but I know you're quite capable of hiding your presence from vampires. It's part of what you are."

"True. We're not walking into his lair, however, and that's presuming we can find it. So far, I haven't been able to. Gid, before you ask, and your brother is probably aware of this already, Vicario never goes to his clubs without two or more powerful vampire hangers-on."

"Like a rock star with his groupies?" Gideon replied, not reacting to Edan's familiarity in using his nickname so soon after they'd met. Or so Edan presumed. He'd done that to find out if it would be as easy to push Gideon's buttons as it was Braden's. Apparently not.

"He makes it appear that way, but they're all well trained to protect him while keeping their eyes open for any possible trouble from someone like me."

"How could they detect you when you're able to conceal your whereabouts?" Gideon asked.

Edan smirked. "They can't."

"So what's the problem? Find out which club he's visiting and take him out."

"In all this discussion I've sort of neglected to mention one very big problem," Edan replied. "He always travels with a powerful sorcerer who can see me when I'm invisible, the same way I can see any vampire if they go invisible."

"Neglected?" Braden said, scowling.

"Okay, I hate the idea I'm not able to get to Vicario because of the sorcerer. It's my one big failure, which pisses me off."

"Hurts your ego?" Braden smiled knowingly. "I guess I understand since I've got a big one too when it comes to some things."

"Don't we all," Gideon said under his breath before asking, "Do you know if he, I'm presuming he's male, could also see through any glamour Braden or I put up?"

"Honestly, I haven't a clue," Edan told him. "I've never seen him. I've only heard stories passed on by dhampir who got the hell away from Vicario and his gang when they found out this sorcerer had seen them and told the others they were there."

"This isn't going to be easy," Gideon commented sourly.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 18

Saturday came and went with no word from Luca. I did tail my client's husband when he left his house late that afternoon. He drove halfway across town to a small club I knew catered to gay men. I followed him in, finding a seat at the bar as I wondered what excuse he'd used to get away from his wife. He went to a table in back. About fifteen minutes later a young man joined him—one I recognized from the other club the husband had visited. Things must have progressed beyond using the men's room for a down and dirty assignation, because they had a couple of drinks, then left together, ending up at a downtown apartment building. I waited for half an hour, decided he was going to be there for a while, and went home.

Sunday I spent cleaning, doing laundry and grocery shopping. I ended the day watching a couple of movies and going to bed early.

Around three in the morning, my phone rang. I answered, Luca gave me an address, then hung up. "Okay," I said to the dead phone, "that was suitably cryptic."

Without turning on any lights, I dressed, then got my gun from the safe. Yes, I have guns—two, actually. One I keep at the office, the other one here. Anyway, I got it and the MOB holster, hooking it on the waistband of my jeans. Not that I thought I'd need it, but there was no way I was venturing out to a rendezvous with a shifter that half of Farnham's cronies were undoubtedly looking for without some protection.

I left the apartment and the building very carefully. I didn't spot anyone who seemed interested in me. Hell, I didn't spot anyone, period. Still, I drove with one eye on the rearview mirror as I took the highway out of the city. When I knew I wasn't being followed, I turned on my GPS, programmed in the address, then, at its orders, veered off onto the road that circled Westerden Lake. The lake was large enough that it took half an hour to reach the far side from the city. My GPS told me when I was supposed to turn left off the main road onto a side road that headed into the Westerden Forest Preserve. My trusty, very talkative navigation system told me to keep driving for five miles before turning right. I did and kept going for another three miles. By then I was totally lost. This was a section of the county I'd never been to before. Hell, I didn't even know the Preserve existed—to say the least of the farmland I was driving through now.

It was close to four-thirty—after several turns onto roads running through corn fields—when I came to narrow one-lane dirt road. The GPS ordered me to get on it. At this point, for all I knew, I could have been in the next state over. "Your destination is two-point-five miles ahead on your right," the GPS announced. 

All I found when I got there was a pull-off with a weather-worn sign listing what once might have been a house number. The area was just large enough to hold my car, with a narrow path off it to the right. "Where the hell am I?" I asked the universe as I got out of the car.

The universe didn't answer, but Luca did as he stepped into view from behind the lone tree at the side of the pull-off. "Half a mile from where I'm staying for the time being."

"In the middle of corn country?" I asked, grumbling.

He shrugged. "It is what it is, and the farmhouse is safe."

I saw what he meant when it came into view. I'd hardly have called it a house, though it probably had been way back in the mists of time. Now it was three barely standing walls holding up part of an otherwise-tumbled-in roof.

"This is where you're hiding out?" I asked in disbelief.

"No." He almost smiled. "I needed to find out if you'd come alone."

I bristled angrily. "You still don't trust me."

Now he really smiled. "I do now. You are alone, and no one followed you." He put his arm around my waist.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 17

"Are you sure you want to help me?" Luca asked. "I have the feeling it could become dangerous."

I smirked. "I live for danger."

"Uh-huh. If you say so. I'm not kidding, though. Farnham's not looking for me to make nice."

"Yeah, I get that. Since I don't like what you've told me about what he and his cronies are planning, I'd like to help stop them. But"—I held up a finger—"I need to hear the recording first."

"Don't you trust me?" Luca asked, scowling. Then he relented. "You have no more reason to do that than I have to fully trust you."

"There you go. Before you ask, I don't want to go wherever you're hiding out, on the off chance Farnham does have someone following me."

"I wouldn't take you there, anyway. We need neutral ground, somewhere he doesn't know about. My being here is bad enough."

"By the way, how did you find out I lived here?" I asked.

"You've heard of the phone book, haven't you? Both your office and home address are listed in the online one."

"I must be losing it," I muttered.

Luca chuckled. "You're tired and stressed."

"That's no damned excuse." I sighed. "Okay. Where would you feel safe meeting me with the recording?"

"I don't know. Let me figure that out and I'll call you."

"I take it you're leaving? One question before you do, if you don't mind. You're a graphic artist. How did you… Why were you working at Farnham's restaurant?"

"Long story short, I was there one evening several months ago with a client. I saw two of the shifters I mentioned earlier, a councilman and the police chief, go into one of the back rooms with Farnham. That caught my attention and not in a good way, since I was aware of the rumors about Farnham's plans, though not the details, at that point. So, a couple of days later I got a job there. I told Farnham I needed extra money because I'd lost a couple of clients to a competitor. He bought it."

"Okay. And you've been spying on him ever since?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Okay, time for me to get going. I've been here too long as it is. I'll be in touch." With that, he pulled a vanishing act, teleporting away before I had a chance to reply.

With him gone, I took the time to process everything he'd told me. The idea that some of the politicians who ran the city were shifters pretending to be human was definitely alarming, to put it mildly. Proving it to the satisfaction of the general populace would be difficult, not to say dangerous, without Luca's recording. And I gathered, from what he'd told Rocky, he needed more than that before he could come forward.

Sure, I could walk up to the chief of police and announce, in front of whoever was around, that he was a shifter. A lot of people knew about my ability and trusted in it. I had the feeling, though, that if I did that, one of two things would happen. He'd say I had a political agenda and was lying to get him out of office, or I'd be dead before I managed to get out two words. Then they'd say I had been about to attack him and plant a gun on me to prove it.

For the moment, there was nothing I could do. I had until next Tuesday to come up with my first report for Farnham about what progress I was making on finding Luca. If nothing broke before then, I'd fake something, because, selfishly, I needed what he'd owe me for the week's work. Man—well, this man—cannot live by doing background checks and tailing errant husbands.

Speaking of which, I'd missed doing that tonight, so I made a mental note to remember to tail him tomorrow—well, this evening, since it was now after midnight. Nothing would come of it, because his wife wanted to find out what woman he was playing around with. I could honestly say he wasn't—and it wouldn't be a lie. Then I'd write her a final report and end the case.

With that decided, I took a shower then headed to bed.

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 16

"Can you prove what you've been telling me? And when it comes down to it, why did you change your mind and decide to trust me?"

Luca barely smiled. "You got me talking and I couldn't shut up. This scares me, Cade. What he's doing scares the hell out of me, which says something, since I'm a shifter."

"Doesn't do much for me, either. Can you prove it?"

"Partially. Farnham held a dinner meeting three weeks ago Monday at the restaurant. The men I mentioned were all there. A war council, as Farnham called it. I was one of two waiters for the dinner part, as I had been for two previous meetings." He finally sat down again, thankfully. I was getting a crick in my neck following his pacing. "I hadn't liked what I'd heard in the previous meetings, which I'll admit wasn't much. We were sent away once dinner was over and the real meeting started. This time, I decided to record what I could, using my phone. Obviously, I couldn't leave the room to do that. There's a bar at one end. I was able to hide behind it without them realizing it. Or"—he grimaced—"they didn't at first. I was there for probably fifteen minutes when one of the men came over to refresh his drink. He saw me. I took off. Well, teleported out."

"Then disappeared from the face of the earth," I said. "At least, as far as Farnham's been able to determine."

"Yes. I didn't plan on coming back to the city until I could figure out how to use the information I have and make people—humans—believe it. Then Rocky called about you."

"How? He told me you weren't answering your phone, and your voicemail was full."

"I dropped in at The Den a couple of nights ago to let him know I was still alive and gave him a number where he could reach me. He's one of the few shifters here that I really trust not to go to Farnham—if they were able to find out where I'd gone to ground.

"I'd like to hear what you recorded."

Instead of replying immediately, Luca leaned back, staring off into space. Finally, he said, "I don't have it with me. I transferred the recording to my laptop, not my computer." He smiled slightly. "I couldn't very well haul my computer around with me, but the laptop? Yeah. Anyway, I picked it up at my apartment the same evening I split. In and out in thirty seconds or less."

"Really? Then it wasn't you who took all the files in your desk drawer?"

He looked at me in surprise. "You've been there?"

"Part of trying to find out where you were. The files are empty. Was there anything in them Farnham might have been interested in? Like something that could clue him in to where you'd gone? Okay, never mind. If there had been, he wouldn't have hired me."

"True, and there wasn't. Everything in them related to work I did for my clients. Well, other than receipts from paying rent, utility bills, and buying business supplies. Was my computer still there?"

"Yep. I was going to see what was on it, if I could, but your protections are as good as the ones I have on mine. Speaking of which, I don't suppose it was you who broke into my office sometime Wednesday night."

"Me? No. Why would I? I didn't even know you existed at that point. Did they take anything?"

"Nope. Whoever it was went through my file cabinets. If they were looking for the file on you, they were SOL. I'd taken it home with me. They made it real obvious they'd been there, for whatever reason."

"This was after you'd been to my place?"

"Yes. I did that Wednesday afternoon, right after Farnham hired me."

Luca frowned. "If he had someone following you, they might have wondered if you'd found something in my apartment they missed in their search."

"Possible." I smiled dryly. "I'd prefer that explanation to the idea that it was someone involved in one my other clients' cases who broke in to find out what I'd learned about them. Right now, I don't need to be worrying about that on top of helping you."

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 15

Luca stood, then began to pace. "I worked at his restaurant as a waiter. You do know that he owns one, I presume. If you're an even halfway-decent investigator, you'd have checked him out."

That piqued my interest, since I knew he was a graphic artist by profession, but I didn't ask—yet. I wanted to hear what he had to say first. "About that, I didn't have to. He told me he owned Waterfront After Dark. Since I'd heard of it, I know it caters to shifters."

He nodded, still pacing. "It does. And everyone who works there is one."

"I discovered that tonight."

He stopped to look at me. "You went there?"

"I did. I figured I should see what's what."

"Smart move, for a human, if somewhat dangerous."

"How do you figure?" I asked. "From what I know of the place, humans are welcome there."

"Let's say, they aren't asked to leave. But all they see are the bar and main dining rooms."

"I take it there's more."

"Yes. Very private areas only shifters are allowed to access. And if they aren't allied with Farnham, even those are off limits."

"'Allied', as in working with him to make him the alpha of the city?" I asked.

"Exactly. He wants to rule Westerden, make it an all-shifter city. Once he's done that, he plans to move on to take over more cities."

"That might be hard. Humans aren't going to sit by and watch that happen."

Luca scowled. "You'd be surprised. He's already convin…" He snapped his mouth shut.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where he'd been going with that. "He's got backing from some of the bigwig humans who run the city now. Right?"

"Worse than that."

"What could be? Oh, hell. How long has he been planning this?"

"More years than I like to think about." Luca smiled grimly. "I gather any research you might have done on him only went back to when he arrived in the city."

I nodded. "Twenty years ago. There was nothing, at least that I could find, about where he was before that." I looked at him questioningly.

"I don't know, either. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere, then opened the restaurant. He's clever. By making it known it was primarily for the shifter community, he piqued the interest of important humans in the city. The ones who choose, so to speak, who will run for office."

I looked at him in feigned shock. "You mean 'we the people' don't make that decision?"

Apparently he believed me because he replied, "Are you that naïve?"

"Not really. So, he's got the ear of those people, and…what?"

"At this point, five of the ten members of the city council are shifters. So are the chief of police, two judges, and the DA."

"Holy shit! Why isn't this general knowledge?"

Luca looked at me as if I were stupid. "Because they've kept what they are a secret. Humans may accept us, but they don't want to know who we are. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes. Yeah, they get a kick out of going to a restaurant or club that's a known shifter hangout so they can rub elbows with big, scary wolves in human form. But if one of us changed in front of them, they'd freak, and probably try to kill him."

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 14

 

I filled and started the coffeemaker then rejoined Luca, sitting in the lone armchair across from the sofa, studying him. The photo Farnham had given me didn't do him justice. He was, to use my mother's words, a handsome devil—chiseled features, deep amber eyes that watched me warily, and a very muscular body, accented by the T-shirt he was wearing. His hair was pulled back, tied with a leather thong.

"You're staring," Luca said, his lips quirking up in a brief grin.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"No problem." He looked intently at me, his gaze going from my face down to my feet and back again. I was well aware that, compared to him, I was quite ordinary—short light-brown hair, a slight crook in my nose from it being broken several years ago, and a body that could have used a few days a week at a gym. I'm not soft, but I could lose a few extra pounds if I was going to come close to looking like him.

The coffeemaker dinged, so I went to pour us coffee. "Cream? Sugar?"

"No, thanks."

I doctored mine, deciding as I did that I should consider taking it black to cut a few calories from my diet. I handed him his cup and sat, again. After we'd both taken a drink, I asked, "What do you have on Farnham that he's so desperate to find you? I'm presuming he is, or you wouldn't have gone into hiding."

"Before I answer, if I do, why do you care? You're working for him, from what Rocky said."

"I am, but I have the feeling I was conned. No, I take that back. I'm real sure I was, if what Rocky told me is the truth."

"It is."

"You can prove it?"

"I can."

"A man of few words," I said, chuckling softly.

"Until I know if I can trust you, I will be."

"What will it take for that to happen?"

Luca rapped a knuckle on his teeth pensively but didn't reply.

"Let me point out," I said, "I didn't bring Farnham or his goons with me."

"If you had, I'd have been gone the second I sensed them."

Quite possible, I knew. Shifters can teleport, but… "If I'd given them an image of my apartment, they could have come in and grabbed you before you could react."

He nodded. "You have a point. One in your favor."

"Compared to a million against me," I replied dryly. "Still, you wouldn't be here if you didn't think on some level that I'm trustworthy."

"Consider it a test of your loyalties."

"Did I pass?" I asked, feeling slightly amused for some reason.

He actually smiled, and it looked good on him. "So far, but it's only the first one." He sobered. "I don't trust easily, after what I've been through with Farnham."

When he didn't continue, I said, "Tell me."

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 13

I decided to wear black slacks and my best shirt, the pale silver-gray one that matched my eyes, for my visit to Farnham's club. Yeah, the shirt was a bit of a conceit. I'd seen it in a high-class men's store about six months ago and decided I had to have it, despite the cost.

By the time I got there, the club was crowded, both inside and on the deck overlooking the lake. Not at all surprising since it was Friday night. While I waited for someone to vacate a seat at the long, mahogany bar, I studied the customers and the help. Well over half the customers were shifters. All of the waiters and bartenders were—and all of them were male. The only females in the place were women with their husbands, boyfriends, or whatever. Not one unescorted woman in the place.

Eventually, I was able to get a seat at the bar. I ordered a beer from a bartender who must have been a cousin to the bruiser who accompanied Farnham when he came to my office. That made me realize every male working here was no slouch in the muscle department.

I kept an eye out for Farnham, not certain if I wanted to see him or avoid him if he was around somewhere. I decided avoidance would be the best policy, if it came up. No sense in letting him think I was checking out the club. He might get the wrong idea—which, of course, would really be the right idea.

I finished my drink and was about to order another one when my phone vibrated. I checked to see who it was, and saw a text—three words—Your place, L.

Short and sweet. I was certain it had come from Luca. After all, I don't know anyone else whose name begins with L. It could have been a setup, I suppose, but Farnham would have no reason to do that, that I could think of. I got up, dropped money on the bar for the beer plus a tip, then took off.

In case anyone thinks I'm stupid, I'm not. I didn't go dashing down the hallway to my apartment. I didn't even park in the building's lot. I drove past, glancing up at my windows. No light showed, although I didn't expect it would. I parked a block away, then came back via the alley to let myself into the building by the back door—after making damned certain no one was watching.

From there, I went around to the lobby, which was empty, then took the elevator up to the fifth floor. It was a two-flight walk up the emergency stairs to the seventh. When I got there, I cautiously opened the door from the stairs onto the hallway. No one was visible, human or shifter. I walked quietly down the hallway, peering around the corner to be certain no one was lurking by my door. Someone was there, but hardly lurking. A tall, auburn-haired shifter leaned against the wall. Even from several yards away, the tension in his stance was palpable.

Without saying a word, I went past him to my door, unlocked it, then stepped aside to let him enter. As soon as he and I were inside, I disarmed, then rearmed the security and locked the door.

"Luca, I presume," I said.

He barely smiled as he looked around. "You'd better hope I am."

"Good point." I gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat."

He did, sitting stiffly, still checking out what he could see of the place, which encompassed the living room and the small galley kitchen off to one side. The doors to the bedroom and bathroom were closed. I went to take a look into both rooms. Not that I expected to find anyone there, but considering the circumstances, it didn't hurt to check.

"If you're looking for some of Farnham's people, there's none in here," Luca said. "I'd know if there were."

"Yeah, I guess you would." True, since shifters can sense each other from a fair distance away. Me? I only know one's around if I see them. "Do you want something? Coffee? Or, I think I might have a couple of beers left."

He finally relaxed enough to lean against the back of the sofa. "Coffee would be good."

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 12

 

As I walked down the hallway to my office Friday morning, I wondered if whoever had broken in yesterday had tried again to find whatever they'd been looking for. The file on Luca was well secured in my office safe, so if that was what they were after, they'd have been shit out of luck—again

The hallway door was locked and the security box was armed, so at least if someone had paid me another visit they'd covered their tracks this time. As far as I could tell—and I do know my office space like the back of my hand—nothing had been tampered with, not even the safe. I'd spent a lot of money on it when I'd first set up in business, so it would have taken an expert to get into it, if they could find it.

I got out the Luca file, turned on the computer, then set to work to find out everything I could about Richard Farnham. The information he'd given me when he'd hired me was all true, not that I doubted it would be. He did own Waterfront After Dark. He did live where he'd said. The house was in a very upscale neighborhood, no surprise there. I did a map-view and figured the property had to encompass at least a half acre, well landscaped with tall bushes around the perimeter to keep anyone from being able to see the house and grounds except through the front and back gates.

Farnham was listed as a member of several charitable foundations and two neighborhood planning organizations, one where he lived, the other where his club was located.  

"You're an upstanding citizen or seem to be," I muttered as I began to dig deeper and came up with nothing until his appearance in Westerden twenty years ago. Yes, it was well known he was a shifter. He made no bones about that, and with all his charity and community work, I'm sure no one cared—at least not enough to make an issue of it.

There was also no indication that what Rocky had told me was true, which didn't mean it wasn't. If Farnham was trying to set himself up as the shifter alpha in the city, he'd hardly publicize it. People, humans, would not be happy if they found out that shifters were organized to the extent that there was a ruling hierarchy with Farnham as its head. They preferred to see shifters as a small segment of the overall society who kept to themselves and bothered no one. In most cases, that was exactly what happened, since as I've said before, people really don't know if their next-door neighbor or the person they work with is human or otherwise—and shifters preferred it that way. At least the ones I knew did. It was safer for everyone concerned.

All this thinking made me question why Farnham wanted to rule the shifters. Did he have plans to take over the city, with the shifters reigning over the human population, using their obvious strength and other shifter abilities to keep humans under their thumbs? That was a frightening thought.

I glanced at Luca's photo, sitting on top of his file. "Damn it, Luca. What did you find out and how can it be used to stop Farnham? As far as that goes, why haven't you done so already?"

Not a question that would be answered if I didn't find Luca before Farnham did. I had no illusions at this point that I was the only one looking for him. I was just another arrow in Farnham's quiver, to use a rather hokey illustration. I suspected what I'd told Rocky was the truth. Farnham had hired me because I was human. Thus, if I did locate Luca, he wouldn't instantly vanish the way he might if he sensed a shifter anywhere close to him. After all, Luca wouldn't know that I knew he was a shifter.

The phone rang. I answered, then spent the next few minutes talking to one of my regular clients about background checks he wanted me to do on several potential new-hires for his company. He said he'd email the names and their resumes as soon as we hung up—and he did. Ergo, the rest of my morning and part of the afternoon was spent doing that. It was decent money, and, right now, I needed every dollar I could get my hands on. The joys of being small-time.

When I was finished and had emailed my report and a bill, I leaned back in my chair, considering how to proceed on the Luca case. I could wait it out, hoping Luca got in touch with Rocky again and would get my message. I figured that was iffy, at best. If Luca was hiding from Farnham—and that was very likely—he would undoubtedly play keep-away from any and all shifters now, other than possibly Rocky, not knowing who he could trust. If he were honorable, Luca wouldn't want to embroil the ones he did trust in what I was fairly certain was the reason why he'd had vanished to begin with—at least, from what Rocky had said.

I wondered if paying a visit to Waterfront After Dark would be a good idea. If nothing else, I could find out which employees on Farnham's payroll were shifters and get a feel for what they were like. The research I'd done on the place earlier today had only listed names, not what they were.

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 11

 

Rocky eyed me pensively. "How come you can do that?"

I've been asked before, so I gave him the same answer I always do. "You're a shifter, so you can tell if someone else is, right?" He nodded. "Okay, as far as I can figure, that's genetic. At least that's what my dad told me when we found out I could do it. It seems my great, great grandfather was a shifter. He met a human woman, they fell in love, and had a son, making the son a half-breed. The shifter genes were there and were passed down to his son, and…you get the picture."

"Yeah. So, you're whatever-percent shifter. Can your father spot us?"

"No. From what he said, I'm the first one in the family, after my half-breed great grandfather, who can. He says the gene must be recessive and, lucky me," I smiled wryly, "it decided to…activate, I guess you could say, in me."

"Makes sense, I guess." Rocky glanced at his watch. "I have to get back to work."

"Okay. Look, if Luca does get in touch with you, would you let him know I'd like to talk to him? Just that. Talk. By phone is fine." I gave Rocky my number.

"So you can track him down when he does?" Rocky said tightly, pushing off the wall. "I don't think so."

"No. At the moment, I only want to talk." I stopped him as he opened the door to go back into the club. "Just so you know, I'm going to do some research on Farnham. If I don't like what I find out, I'm dropping him as a client. From what you've said, there's obviously more to Luca's disappearing than his just deciding to move on."

"No shit." He paused. "If he does call me, I'll pass on your message. After that, it's on him whether he gets in touch with you." With that, he went inside. I decided not to. There was no reason to hang around because, if Rocky was telling the truth—and I had no reason to think he wasn't—it was unlikely Luca would show up there.

"Or anywhere else public," I said under my breath as I walked down the alley to the street. I had a sudden thought that I didn't like one bit. Did Farnham have someone following me? Right now, I wouldn't put it past him. Follow me, and if I did find Luca, dive in and grab him fast, before either Luca or I could stop them. Not an idea that made me a happy camper.

I took out my phone and called the club, asking to talk to Rocky. It took a minute before he came on the line.

"I'll keep this short," I said, quickly explaining my idea then saying, "Be real careful. If I'm right, you could become a target if one of Farnham's people was around and saw us go out back together."

"Got it. I will be. Thanks for the heads-up."

With nothing else I could do at the moment, I went back to my apartment to try and get some sleep. I'll admit it, on the drive home I watched my rearview mirror almost as much as the road ahead of me to make sure I wasn't being followed. Even though I might be "a second-rate PI", to use Rocky's words—and my own at times—I do know how to spot a tail and get rid of one. Neither happened and I made it home without incident.

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 10

 

True to his word, ten minutes later the bartender returned, saying, "Let's go out back."

As I followed him, I knew from the looks on a few faces that some of the people had the wrong idea about what was going on, not that I would have minded. Like I said, shifters are sexy and he was no exception. Being at least six-two and extremely muscular added to his allure. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.

When we were in the alley—a surprisingly clean one—in back of the club, I asked his name.

"Don't laugh. Rocky."

"I won't," I told him, trying not to smirk.

"Why are you looking for Luca?" Rocky asked, leaning against the alley wall.

"I was hired to."

"That's right. You're a PI." He frowned. "Who hired you?"

"Have you heard of Richard Farnham?"

He hissed in a breath. "That son of a bitch. You damned well better believe I have. How much is he paying you to find Luca?"

I shrugged, replying honestly, "Enough to pay this month's rent, for starters. What do you have against him?"

"The same thing a few others of us do. He's a treacherous bastard who wants to become the alpha of the city."

Now that was interesting. Yeah, I sort of figured the reason Farnham wanted me to find Luca wasn't because the two of them really were bosom buddies. But…

"Do you have any idea why he wants me to locate Luca?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Luca's a friend of mine. About three weeks ago, he told me he'd found out something about Farnham that would help stop him in his tracks if it got out."

"I gather he didn't tell you what."

"Nope. He said he had to get more proof and he'd call me if, and when, he did. That night was the last time I saw him. Okay, not quite true. He showed up a couple of nights ago, just to let me know he was still alive. I'd tried calling him before that happened, but he didn’t answer. The calls went to his voicemail until it was too full to take any more messages."

I nodded. "Someone else told me the same thing."

"Who?"

"A woman who wanted to hire him to design a new brochure for her business."

"Ms Holden, the Realtor, right?"

"Yes." I smiled slightly. "I guess you are a friend of his."

"You didn't believe me?" he asked, scowling.

"Do you blame me? After all, that's what Farnham claimed he was."

"Yeah. Okay, I see your point."

"Do you have any idea where Luca might have gone to ground? I'm presuming he's still alive since Farnham hired me to look for him."

"Nope, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Understandable," I replied. "You know nothing about me other than what you've heard on the rumor mill."

Rocky grinned. "It's not all bad. You've got a rep for being an honest, if rather a second-rate, PI."

That stung—the second-rate part—even if it was sort of true and even how I identified myself. I tried to laugh it off, replying, "I'm not all that bad. If I was, Farnham wouldn't have hired me."

"You want my honest opinion? He knows you can tell who's a shifter, so he figured you'd be perfect for hunting Luca, because Luca would spot another shifter who was looking for him."

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 9

 

For once, my luck was in. The husband headed straight home, giving me time to return to my place to eat something and change clothes before going to the club shown on Luca's credit card statement.

The second I walked in the door, I knew I was in mixed company, so to speak. A good half of the customers there were shifters. I wondered how many of the humans knew that. Maybe the name of the club should have given them a clue—The Lycan Den—presuming they knew Lycan was another name for wolf shifters. After all, even if they were definitely in the minority, it was no secret shifters existed. It hadn't been for more than a hundred years when a pack of gray wolf shifters decided they were tired of trying to hide what they were. From what I'd heard, things were damned tense for a while and could have been worse if they hadn't enlisted the help of two well-know politicians and a famous actor, all of whom were shifters.

Be that as it may, nowadays people were used to the fact they were around, although they might not have been aware they knew some—or been happy about the fact, as far as that went.

I found a seat at the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender asked what I wanted. As I drank, I watched the interactions around me. Some people were there for the dancing, some to drink, as always in a club. The shifters seemed to stick to their own kind, much to the dismay of some of the humans who were trying to hit on one or another of them, unaware of what they were. And that was happening—a lot. Not too surprising since shifters as a whole seem to give off an aura of sexiness. Clichéd, maybe, but still the truth.

Unfortunately, as far as I was concerned, Luca didn't seem to be around. I ordered another beer, and when the bartender brought it over, I asked if he'd seen Luca tonight.

"Who?" he replied.

"This guy," I told him, showing him Luca's picture.

"Never saw him before."

Given that the bartender was a shifter, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised he'd said that. He knew I was human. They all know who's human and who isn't. It's ingrained in their genes as a way of self-preservation.

I rested my elbows on the bar, leaning in to keep our conversation as private as possible. "I know he comes in here. I also what he is—and what you are."

"Impossible," the bartender replied adamantly. If I'd only been guessing about him being a shifter, he'd have given himself away at that point, which he obviously realized. Very softly he asked, "How do you know?"

"It's a talent I have," I replied, just as softly.

He studied me, then nodded. "Cade Warner, right? I've heard about you. You're one in a million, or so they say."

"I am. If you know about me, you also know I never reveal that a person is a shifter unless it's absolutely necessary. Even after all this time, there are folks out there that would love to see all of you eliminated."

"Tell me about it," he replied angrily. He glanced around. "I'm on break in ten. Why don't we take this somewhere more private?"

"That's fine with me."

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 8

 

When I got back to my office, I checked first thing for messages. The only one was from someone who wanted to hire me to investigate his wife. I told him I was booked through next week, but if he was willing to wait that long, I'd get back to him. Given how I feel about those kinds of jobs, I really hoped he'd find someone else, even if I did need the money. That reminded me; I had to spend the evening following the presumably wandering husband of the woman who'd hired me for that reason. I figured I'd give it another week then let her know her misgivings were unfounded—or at least that I couldn't prove that he was having an affair with his pretty business partner or any other woman, as far as that went. Men? That was debatable. He'd spent time after work, a couple of nights a week, at a local club—some of it in the men's restroom. No fucking way was I going to go in to see if he was hooking up for down-and-dirty sex. If I tried to get photos? Well, he was no small fry and I'd probably end up with a broken jaw before I could take even one shot.

Settling at my computer, I turned it on, then thought of something. Placing a call to Nick Allen, I asked, when he answered, "How did Luca pay for the repairs you did?"

"Usually in cash. Once in a blue moon by check."

"I don't suppose you remember the name of the bank the check was drawn on."

"After four years?" He snorted softly, then went silent. I thought he might have hung up and was about to do so myself when he said, "I do remember part of the name, because I asked him where Rockshore was. The check was from Rockshore something or another. Credit Union, if I remember rightly. He said it was 'back East' to quote him and left it at that."

"Thanks. It might help."

After we hung up, I set to work. Now that I had Luca's name, his most recent address, and Social Security number, I could run a credit check. That, in turn, would tell me where he banked and his credit card numbers, if he had any. It wasn't a simple operation, but it was something I was an expert at, as I did background checks on potential employees for two small companies who were regular clients of mine.

I managed to get a credit report and discovered that Mr. Allen had remembered the credit union's name correctly. Unfortunately, as it turned out, it had closed its doors a year ago, so that was a dead end. No new bank accounts were listed, which surprised me.

Long, boring story short, I was able to retrieve Luca's most recent credit card history by running his card and Social Security numbers through a highly restricted site I had access to. That was when things got interesting.

Luca, or someone, had used the card two days ago at a club here in the city. It hadn't been the first time, either. The club's name showed up at least twice a week over the past three months, which was as far back as the report went. Twice a week, that was, until he'd vanished three weeks ago. Then nothing until this last Tuesday.

"Stolen?" I muttered. "From his wallet or dead body? Or has he resurfaced?"

Only one way to find out, but not until after I did surveillance on my client's wayward husband this evening, if he didn't go right home after work.

Since I had time, I ran a search for Luca in Rockshore. His name came up as, no real surprise, a graphic designer who did free-lance work for several small businesses in what turned out to be a town in Alabama. "Hardly back East," I said to myself. He also had had an apartment there up until five years ago. So, presumably, he'd left Rockshore to come out here,

At which point, he'd ended up in a sleazy hotel for a year before moving into a snazzy high-rise and starting his business. How had he managed that?

Rockshore was as far back as I could track Luca. He'd shown up there eight years ago, seemingly out of nowhere. I checked his driver's license. It listed his DOB as 1989, making him thirty-one now and twenty-three when he'd arrived in Rockshore. Of course, being a shifter, he was undoubtedly older than that by several years—or more.

I rubbed my eyes, which were feeling the strain of staring at the computer screen for most of the afternoon. A glance at the time told me I'd better get moving if I was going to catch my client's husband when he left work.

I printed out all the information I'd gathered on Luca, putting it in his file, then put the folder in the safe hidden in the small storage closet off the waiting room. After shutting down the computer, I took off.

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 7

 

The address corresponding to the one on Luca's driver's license was a weed-infested vacant lot in a run-down part of town, flanked by a near-new shop and one that did auto repairs. When I went into the repair shop, a grizzled-looking man behind the counter asked if he could help me. The name on his shirt said he was Nick.

"I was wondering about the lot next door," I told him. "Someone told me they lived there." I chuckled. "And they weren't homeless, so…"

Nick nodded. "Used to be a cheap hotel there until it got torn down about…hmm, three years ago. A real dive, from the look of some of the people who stayed there." He almost smiled. "Fit right in with the rest of the neighborhood."

"Well, hell. Okay. Sorry to have bothered you."

"No problem. Not like I got much else going on. If I didn't own this property, with no hope of selling it for a decent price, I'd have moved out a long time ago." He eyed me. "Who you looking for? And don't say you're not. I'm not a dumb as I look."

I laughed. "Got me." Taking out Luca's picture, I showed it to him.

He stared at it, then at me. "Why are you looking for Luca?"

"You know him?"

"Knew him. He was one of the others." That's what a lot of human's call shifters. "Nice enough, for one of them, I guess."

"How did you know he was?" 

"He had a rattletrap car back when he lived there, maybe five years ago, give or take. Brought it in for me to work on. We got to talking. I got nothing against them." Nick grinned. "Others, I mean, not cars. Anyway, he said something that clued me in and, when I asked, he said he was. Not what kind, just that he was. I can't say we became friends, but with as much trouble as he had with the car, we saw a fair amount of each other. Then, last time he was in here, he said he'd come into some money and was moving to a better place."

"How long was he around here before that?"

"Hmm. A year, maybe? Like I said, it was five years ago when he first brought his car in. I can't say when he moved into the hotel."

"Did he ever talk about family or friends?"

"Nope. And I asked." Nick looked at the picture again. "Nice kid but lonely acting. Must have been, to spend time with me. Why you looking for him?"

"He's missing and someone who says he's a friend of Luca's is worried."

"You don't trust him?"

I smiled. "You're one smart man. Let's just say, if I do find Luca, I'm not telling the guy who hired me without Luca's say-so."

"Good. There's folks out there who have no love for others and would just a soon see them all dead or incarcerated as walking free." He slanted me a look. "You ain't one of them, are you?"

"A hater? Nope. Not a shifter, either. Just a second-rate private eye."

He laughed. "That works. Hope you do find him. Like I said, he was nice enough, for being an other. Keep in touch. Let me know if you find him. And if he shows up here… Give me your number and I'll call if he does."

We exchanged numbers and names. His was Nick, like the tag on his shirt said. Nick Allen. "That's why it's Allen's Auto Shop," he said, pointing at the sign on the far wall.

After that, I left. I stopped in at the near-new shop but the woman running it said she'd only been in business for two years and the hotel had been gone by then. "Now, if they could do something about the lot," she grumbled. I thanked her, then headed back to the office.

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 6

 

I stuck the key in the lock of the hallway door to my office Thursday morning, turned it, and couldn’t get in. That's when I realized the door hadn't been locked to start with. A bit slow on my part? Yeah. But when things are habit… I got the door unlocked then paused before punching in the code on the security box. Good thing I did, because if I'd entered the code, I would have armed the system, not disarmed it.

Those were my first clues I'd had a visitor overnight. And I call myself a detective? Damn. Yeah, I'm being sarcastic, sort of. The next clue was the open file cabinet drawers in my office. At least whoever had paid me a visit had been neat. There was nothing strewn around the floor. One thing I knew for sure. They couldn't have gotten into my computer. It's as protected as Luca's, which is saying something, given how well protected his is.

I ran a check of the files in the cabinet to see if anything was missing. It took a while but, in the end, I decided nothing had been taken. Photographed? Possible, of course. All this made me wonder what they had been after, although I had a good idea, considering the timing. It made me glad I'd taken the file on Luca home with me.

I also pondered the fact that whoever had been here had made it pretty obvious they'd searched the place. Trying to scare me off an investigation? If so, why not leave something that said what they were looking for, so I'd know which of my few clients they were interested in? When it came down to it, none of my present clients, except perhaps Farnham, rated even a passing interest from someone else.

Since there was nothing I could do about what had happened, I decided to ignore it for now, other than to change the security code. I doubted the cops could, or would, do anything about it since nothing had been taken. Whoever had gotten in here would have been smart enough to wear gloves—ergo, no prints.

So I started to do what I'd planned before all this happened. I booted up my computer then set to work running checks on Luca Montana.

His home address was valid, but I knew that, although all I could find was his present one. None of my search engines listed anything before that, which was strange. I also knew he had a legitimate business as a graphic designer—not only from talking with Ms Holden but because he had a website with all the bells and whistles. Actually, if I ever find him, I might have him redesign my website. Like I could afford it—not. There were no wants or warrants out on him. As far as I could ascertain, he wasn't in any of the hospitals, either as a mugging victim or otherwise, or in jail. Without his Social Security number, there were some things I couldn't find out, so that was the next step in my investigation.

I went back to his apartment complex, but this time it was to talk to the building manager.

"Mr. Montana? Let me think," Mrs. James said, tapping her pen on the desk. "He moved in four years ago, if I remember correctly." She went to a file cabinet along one wall, dug through it, and came back with a folder. "Yes. In June." Then she asked what she should have to begin with, once I'd identified myself as a private investigator. "Why are you looking for him?"

I lied, of course. "His mother hired me. She hasn't heard from him for a month and is very worried." Given that she had three pictures of what I presumed were her children on the desk, I figured that would get to her.

It did. She shook her head, looking at the first page of the rental form he'd filled out. "The original is with the management company," she said. "I keep copies for all of the tenants on file." Running her finger down the page, she commented, "He didn't list any family to contact in case of an emergency." She turned it so I could see, as if to prove her point. There it was, his Social Security number. I asked if she could give me a copy of the form. "It might help me find him."

After hesitating, she shrugged. "I don't see why not." She made a copy, saying as she did, "He hasn't picked up his mail for quite a while, which is worrisome. I hope nothing bad has happened to him."

"That's what I intend to find out." I thanked her when she gave me copies of both pages of his rental form, told her I'd let her know if I found out anything, asked her to contact me if she heard anything from or about him, then left.

As soon as I was back in my car, I looked at the second page of the form. At the bottom was a photocopy of his driver's license. There was an address on it, but obviously not the one for the apartment complex. I knew what my next stop would be.