Bloodlines (39 page)

“And there are also pictures of cats playing the piano and a whole lotta porn,” Jed interrupted, scowling. “But none of that is helping us. Come on, nerd squad, focus.”

Victor cleared his throat, giving Jed a pointed look. Redford just picked up the maps he’d been studying again, quite happy to leave Victor and Randall to the computer. Since living with Jed he’d figured out his way around technology fairly well, but computers didn’t smell nearly as nice as books did.

“Give me what you have,” Randall sighed, holding out his hand for the information. “I’ll see what I can track down.” Jed passed over the thumb drive, and Randall retreated to the nearby bed, curling up around the laptop and pushing his glasses more firmly up on his nose, getting to work.

With the laptop occupied, Jed, Victor, and Redford took to their own avenues of study. Redford occasionally passed a map with added notations over to Jed and pushed a note in shorthand that needed translating to Victor. There wasn’t much to do with the physical information they had anymore—Randall was doing the most pertinent work—leaving Redford feeling a little antsy, determined to squeeze every last drop of information they could out of what they’d retrieved from the cabin.

The sun had long since set, and Redford found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. Victor had succumbed to sleep some time ago, his head down on the table, glasses pushed hard up against his face. Randall looked like he was going the same way, his head tilted back against the wall he was leaning against. Jed was still awake, but even he was starting to look sluggish as he and Randall passed the laptop back and forth.

Redford had the vague idea that he should probably go over to help. But Randall was better with computers than he was, and Jed was smarter than he was, so his contributions likely wouldn’t be any help at all. Their low talking was unfortunately soothing, making Redford’s eyelids heavier as he struggled to keep the map in focus.

He wound up slumped to one side, still valiantly trying to hold up the map. From over it he could see Jed’s face, not focused on the screen as Redford had thought he would be, but watching him. Redford couldn’t make out his expression, just the deep forest green of his eyes lit to a more pale color in the luminescence of the computer, the light bathing his face like a blue-tinged fire.

Redford wished he could go over there and curl around Jed so he could fall asleep properly. He knew he
could
, too, but hesitance and near-sleep left him staying right where he was, finally closing his eyes, secure in the knowledge that Jed was at least near him, if not directly next to him. He started to drift, smiling at the sensation of a blanket being tucked around him, a gentle kiss being pressed to his forehead.

“Sleep, Fido. I’m here.”

And so he did.

Victor

“I
FOUND
it!”

Victor was dragged to wakefulness with a startled grunt and then a quiet groan of pain as he dislodged his glasses from his face. He sat up, bleary-eyed, confused, peering at Randall, who was in the middle of eagerly thumping Jed on the back.

It seemed that Randall hadn’t fallen asleep like the rest of them.
Disheveled
was probably the kindest word that could be applied to him right then, but Victor found himself smiling stupidly at the stubble on Randall’s jaw, the way his hair was sticking out everywhere, the tiredness on his face that was only barely edged out by the excitement.

“What the fuck?” Jed was eloquent, as always. He’d apparently fallen asleep on Randall’s legs at some point. Now he was blinking groggily, scrubbing his hands across his face in some vain effort at waking up.

“The holding company. I found it.” Randall thumped the laptop down on the table, climbing into the chair next to Victor, grinning. “I traced it back through stockholder reports for the past ten years. See? If you follow this company back, it only came into existence eight years ago, right? And that year, the first annual report, there’s a huge number of stocks that got passed back into the company the following year.”

“And you found out who owned those stocks.” Jed nodded. The news seemed to be doing wonders at getting him out of his half-dead state. Behind Victor, Redford was crawling out of bed with a grumble of protest. He stomped across the cabin and pitched himself across Jed’s legs with another grumble, curling up on him and going right back to sleep. A brief look of surprise crossed Jed’s face, pulling his concentration to Redford. His face softened, and he combed absent fingers through Redford’s hair, shifting to make himself the most comfortable human pillow possible.

“Exactly.” Randall was too focused on what he’d found to pay attention to the interpersonal drama. Victor envied him. He couldn’t help speculating on what was happening with Jed and Redford. “And I found out
that
was another dummy corporation, though this one wasn’t nearly as elegantly constructed. It’s….” Randall paused, a frown creasing his face.

“Out with it, kid,” Jed rumbled, voice quieter, thumb making light circles under Redford’s ear.

“Far be it from me to point out that I’m not a genius,” Randall said, rubbing a hand through his hair, sending messy waves everywhere. “But I probably shouldn’t have been able to find out what I did.”

Jed’s lips pursed in thought. “Too easy?”

“More than likely, yes.” Randall sat back, rubbing his eyes.

“Good.” Jed nodded.

This whole conversation was far too technical for Victor this early in the morning. He’d mostly tuned them out, but kept part of his attention on their discussion as he shuffled his way toward the sink. His mouth felt as dry as the Sahara. He just hoped the reason for that wasn’t excessive drooling.

That apparently was not the reaction Randall had been expecting. “We want them to want to be found? Isn’t that the very definition of a trap? Meaning a thing we don’t fall into?”

“If someone’s setting a trap, that means they’re expecting us to come nosing around.” Jed leaned back against the headboard of the bed, looking entirely too smug. “They’re going to be on guard.”

“Again, none of this sounds ideal,” Randall said dryly.

“They’re going to be expecting normal reactions. Us to nose around or try to gather more info or shit like that.”

“And we’re… not going to do those things?” Randall shot Victor a baffled look. Victor didn’t really know how to respond to that. He shrugged. Half of what Jed said never made sense to him anyway.

“Hell no. We’re just going to ram straight at them. Best way to take them off guard.” Jed seemed quite satisfied with his plan. “They won’t be expecting it.”

“Most people don’t expect crazy,” Randall agreed. But he was apparently ready to let Jed handle the planning. Randall brought the laptop to the bed, bending over so he could show Jed what he’d found without Jed dislodging Redford. “See? This is the parent company. Ashes Ltd.”

“Do we know who owns it?” Redford’s voice was little more than a mumble. “That’d be useful.”

“Their CEO is listed as a Leonard O’Malley.” Randall shrugged. “I don’t know if that means anything.”

Jed had gone still. Redford woke up properly then, staring in disbelief at Randall. “Leonard O’Malley,” Redford repeated.

Victor frowned at them both. “You know who that is? Please don’t tell me you’ve worked a job for him. That would be distasteful to the extreme.” From the guilty look on Redford’s face, Victor didn’t need to ask again.

“Fuck you,” Jed summarized neatly. “I go where the pay is. But yeah, we’ve worked a couple of things for him. Last one was, what, months ago, right? Just before Cairo. It was a simple recovery gig.”

“So you could make contact with him,” Randall prompted, shooting Victor a look.

“Maybe,” Redford hedged. “Jed, um, wasn’t very nice when he tried to not pay us in full. He might not be very happy to see us again.”

“He’s just an art dealer, though. A collector.” Jed sounded baffled. “Why the fuck would he be bankrolling supernatural wolf Ghostbusters?”

“You should probably work on that name,” Randall commented absently. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.” He’d brought up a new window on the computer and soon was turning it around, showing a picture that appeared to be from some kind of corporate brochure. The man was average looking, dark hair, gray eyes, something hard about the face, but overall totally forgettable.

“That’s him,” Jed agreed, peering at the monitor.

“We should tell the Gray Lady. See what she’d like us to do next.” Randall was up, gathering the papers and the maps. He hesitated, rubbing a hand along his chin and grimacing. “Well, first I should shower. Shave, maybe. Definitely change my clothes.”

“Whatever happened to your brothers?” Redford asked, looking around the room for them.

Randall gave him a slight grin. “You and Victor dozed off before they came back. Nothing all that earth-shattering. We can get them too, make a proper meeting of it.”

A shower and a shave sounded like a fantastic idea to Victor, who still felt like he hadn’t properly woken up yet. “We’ll reconvene in half an hour?” He rubbed a hand over his nose to muffle a sneeze and leveled a glare at the cat that was currently sitting perched on the table. Knievel completely ignored him, grooming herself primly. The antihistamines he’d taken before he came over were starting to wear off.

“Make it an hour.” Redford had levered himself up to sit upright. “We need breakfast first.”

Since Victor’s cabin was only two over from the Lewises, he glanced at Randall, lifting his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

Randall paused, freezing in mid-paper-shuffle. Eyes going rather wide behind his glasses, he looked up at Victor, and Victor swore he could see the start of a blush on Randall’s cheeks. “I…. I’m sorry?”

“I’ll walk you back,” Victor clarified. “Your injury must be causing you some bother. I wouldn’t want you to slip and fall.”

Apparently that answer wasn’t what Randall had been expecting. His expression was a strange mix between relief and disappointment. But he nodded, giving Victor a brief smile. “Right. Yes, of course. That’s very thoughtful, thank you.” His limp was less pronounced, but he was still moving stiffly as he headed toward the door.

Victor peered back at Jed and Redford as he left, but he shut the door on them as quickly as possible. There was entirely too much drama going on in that room for Victor to be comfortable, and he was rather glad to get the chance to leave. Not to mention the fact Jed seemed to take a perverse kind of pleasure in getting unclothed around Victor. He hardly wanted to stay and give Jed another chance to walk about naked. As much as he thought Jed and Redford were good for each other, he didn’t want to see their issues right there in the open.

“You don’t need to walk me back.” Randall was walking alongside him, foot dragging slightly as he moved. “I really am quite all right, and I’m sure you’re sick of the sight of me by now. I certainly would be.” He looked down at himself, grimacing faintly as he rubbed a hand across his jaw. “God, I look terrible.”

“I’m walking you back and that’s final,” Victor said sternly. “Goodness, Randall, it’s the least I can do.”

He still didn’t remember much about that specific moment in the altercation with the hunters yesterday. Victor had never been good around blood or violence, and though he’d been determined to help in some way in the fight, all he’d managed to do was hang around the sidelines and anxiously watch the action. He hadn’t felt brave enough to lift his gun once.

Apparently he’d made a vital error in not watching his back. All Victor had seen was a flash of a blue jacket—a hunter—and the blur of dark fur as Randall had sped toward him, knocking him down and out of the way of the bullet. Jed had taken care of the hunter shortly after that. Until Randall had shifted back, Victor had had no idea that the man had even been injured.

Guilt wasn’t something he felt a lot of in his life. Victor found the emotion wasteful. But he was feeling guilty now.

“I never thanked for you yesterday,” he continued, watching Randall closely for signs of a stumble as they walked. The grass underneath their feet was crisp with frost, entirely too easy to slip upon. “You saved my life.”

Randall’s head was down, as though he was carefully watching his step. Despite the limp, however, he still moved with the grace that seemed to characterize most of the wolves Victor had observed. Anthony and Edwin’s was more an aggressive fluidity, a predatory gait, and one couldn’t help but see the wolf beneath their skin. In Randall it was tightly contained, an almost hidden smoothness under the glasses and the messy hair and the too large sweaters. It was more readily apparent now with Randall disheveled and only half-awake, like he was forgetting to keep himself proper and prim.

“I didn’t think you were one for overdramatics, Victor,” Randall half teased, voice hoarse. “I didn’t do anything. There really isn’t any need for you to thank me.”

“Overdramatics is what’s happening in that cabin back there,” Victor sighed. “I am merely grateful.” And still feeling slightly guilty that Randall was limping because Victor couldn’t use a gun. “And I would like to request that you let me get shot if that situation ever happens again.”