All Sabar wanted from the spineless creatures was their money.
He already had the power, was blessed with it along with his inferior DNA. Being a shifter was his saving grace, being a step above the human race his reward. He loved the control and fear his cat evoked, loved the leader it had bred him to be. He’d waited a long time to step up and claim what was rightfully his, and now he was almost there.
As for respect, that would come or they would die. It was quite simple to his way of thinking.
“JC’s ready,” Darel said from behind.
Sabar rubbed a hand down the back of his close-shaved head, inhaling deeply before he turned. Darel wasn’t afraid of him. Leery of what his next move might be, yes, but not afraid. This could be a good thing, Sabar noted, or it could be bad. He hadn’t decided which yet. But he liked Darel, liked the kill-or-be-killed mentality the shifter possessed. Looking at the broad-shouldered beast with its green eyes glaring back at him almost made Sabar proud. He’d trained Darel, brought him under his wing when he was just a boy, raised him to be as vicious and cutthroat as he was. Yes, he was proud. But he wanted to be prouder.
“Did you check his receipts from the last time?”
Darel nodded. “I did. He was even.”
“Good,” Sabar said, taking a step so that he and Darel were now walking together toward the other side of The Point. There were four tables over there, filled with blocks of coke that JC was to pick up and distribute on the streets for quick sale. “Watch him, though. He stinks,” he said, extending his long tongue to lick over his lips.
Beside him Darel grunted. “He’s no fool, boss. He knows if he fucks up his ass is mincemeat.”
Sabar nodded. “Make sure he doesn’t forget that little tidbit of information.”
“No problem.”
Through heavy metal double doors a human walked. He was tall and built like a toothpick, his face sunken in and leathery like he’d seen too much sun and not enough sunscreen. Dark eyes darted around the room as he walked with a sure gait, his stench wreaking of fear. Sabar’s stomach churned. If there was anything he hated more than the Shadow Shifters, it was a spineless human.
“Howdy,” the man Darel called JC said.
Darel stepped in front of Sabar. “Here’s the shipment. You’ve got a week to turn in the money and your receipts.”
“Shit,” JC hissed. “All this? You want me to move all this in a week?”
“If you can’t,” Darel said menacingly, “we’ll find someone who can.”
“Nah, that’s…,” he stuttered. “That’s … not necessary.” Rubbing a hand through his greasy hair, he made a wide step around Darel to the first table. Long fingers moved along the silver-covered package as he blew out a low whistle. “I can do it.”
“You’d better,” Darel said with a growl that had JC jumping, almost falling over the merchandise.
“What the fuck are you guys?” JC mumbled as he looked up to see he was surrounded by the two of them.
“Your worst fucking nightmare!” Sabar snarled.
In the confines of his bedroom on Sunday Rome continued to stare at the computer screen. His back hurt, his legs were begging to be stretched, but his eyes remained fixated on the words, the letters, the feelings behind each sentence his father had written.
The last year in Vance Reynolds’s life was a tumultuous one. Along with the Delgados he’d been trying to create a stateside alliance like the Assembly in the forest. They wanted a government in place for the Shadow Shifters who’d opted to live out in the open among the humans. In the forest there had already been whispers of an uprising, threats of rogue shifters staking a claim in the village they’d helped build. Vance figured it was only a matter of time before those rogues made their way to the States.
The stakes were much higher here in the land of the free. Shifters were living in the open instead of remaining hidden under the canopy of the rain forest, reported only as shadows or man–animal beasts. They could walk along the streets with their heads held high, make a living for themselves and their families, and still honor their heritage. But like any group living in unknown territory, they needed boundaries, rules, protocols to maintain their most protected secret.
In the last few months of his life, Vance had begun a preliminary outline for how they could make that happen. At that time there were no Faction Leaders in the Zones, no one to really keep tabs on what was going on all over the continent, and Vance could not do it alone. He trusted Henrique and Sofia Delgado, along with his wife, with all his plans and secrets. All but one.
As Rome stared at the screen, he knew without a doubt that neither his mother nor Nick’s parents had known about Vance’s latest plan. A plan that had shaken all Rome’s ideals and beliefs in the man he looked up to.
Running tired hands over his face, Rome took a deep breath, wondering who else may have read these notes. Bingham said he’d just taken the disk out of the safe-deposit box. X said he’d simply broken the encryption. Rome believed X. He trusted his friend. He did not trust Bingham, which posed yet another problem.
“Find what you were looking for, Mr. Roman?” Baxter asked.
Rome thought he was alone, but he wasn’t surprised at Baxter’s quiet entrance. The man moved as if his feet barely touched the ground. Over the years Rome had grown used to it. Besides, this big house might seem lonely without Baxter. More often than not, he felt lonely anyway.
But it was the life he led, the life he had to lead.
“Found more than I was looking for,” he answered finally. “Why didn’t Dad tell me what he was doing?”
“Fathers protect their sons,” Baxter said, moving through the room, no doubt looking for something to pick up. But Rome wasn’t messy. To the contrary, he believed everything had a place and made sure it was there. His master bedroom was on the far left side of the house and looked as if three normal-size bedrooms could fit into it. His bed was a huge four-poster that sat in the middle of the floor directly across from a huge fireplace. Rich colors like mahogany and charcoal gray and sapphire blue decorated the space. Books lined the walls while thick duvets and plump pillows occupied the bed. The master bath was to one side; a small private exercise room, to the other. He could stay in his suite for days without needing to leave. But he didn’t. The walls surrounding him would drive his cat crazy.
“Protect me from what? It wouldn’t have done any harm to share what he was thinking. Maybe I could have helped.”
“You were but a child, sir. Your father was doing what he thought was best.”
“Was getting himself killed best?”
Baxter paused, his thin frame looking almost lost in the midst of the big room. “It was probably necessary. You would not have grown into your destiny otherwise.”
There was that word again, destiny. His mother used it often, telling him there was a destiny for everyone, a life preordained for them. Rome thought it was all bullshit. He made his future. Yes, the job of Faction Leader, his allegiance to the tribes, that was probably planned. But his decisions led the way to what happened in the here and now.
“Some things are still hard for you to understand.”
“That’s because I get the feeling I still don’t know everything. If there’s more you can tell me, Baxter, please do.”
“Timing is crucial,” Baxter said, then moved to the bed, turning down the heavy gray duvet, removing the pillows that were simply for decoration.
He turned down Rome’s bed every night, no matter how many times Rome told him it was unnecessary. The fact that Baxter still cooked, cleaned, and basically ran this household was probably unnecessary, but Rome couldn’t imagine his life without him. He was the only family—besides Nick and X—that Rome had, pitiful as that was.