“Guns?”
“Guns . . . and drugs. Intel from one of the informants is that it’s some real nasty shit. Cocaine and heroin cut with Fentanyl mostly. Addictive and deadly.”
Ryan was unable to speak for a moment. The mere mention of speed balling took him back to that place where he could overhear his parents talking in the kitchen. It was what had killed his brother, though it would be years before he understood what it meant. It was dangerous enough, but adding Fentanyl to the mix was just asking for overdose.
“Fuck. Who’s bringing that shit in here?”
“Don’t know yet, but everyone is terrified of them. One guy swears he saw them rip a guy apart. Claims they turned into some sort of animal, but he was tripping balls at the time and isn’t exactly a reliable witness to much of anything.”
Wolves? Oh God, were they wolves?
Ryan considered this for a moment. Could it possibly be related to his brother’s death? Ultimately, it had been Mark’s decision to take the drugs that had killed him, but one of the biggest reasons Ryan had joined the force was to take down the kinds of people who sold these death sentences. If he was looking at the people who had actually supplied his brother, it was a whole new ballgame. If they were wolves, taking them down wasn’t going to be easy or pretty.
The day revealed nothing further that might open up information. When he was done for the day, he went home, showered, and considered having a drink or twelve. Instead, he called to check on Lucy. He realized he felt tense as he waited for her to answer, not looking forward to getting the same ambivalence he had felt from her yesterday.
Instead, she sounded light hearted and upbeat. He felt relieved.
“You want to come over? Maybe spend the night with me for a change?”
“I’d love to. Let me throw together a bag and I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No. You want me to grab something on my way over?”
“No. I went grocery shopping today. I’ll make you dinner.”
“Sounds great,” he replied. “See you soon.”
“See you,” she said before ending the call.CHAPTER NINELucy
Lucy had woken up that morning feeling one hundred percent better than she had when she had gone to bed. She hadn’t realized just how tired and out of sorts she had been until she had last spoken to Ryan. True, she had been a bit annoyed by his over-protectiveness, but it was largely contributed to feeling out of sorts on a number of levels.
She was also happy that the car that had given her concerns appeared to be gone now. No doubt the whole thing was just her imagination playing up, including thinking anyone had been in the house. She had decided to put it all behind her and just try to act like a normal human being. She took her time putting together the ingredients for lasagna and popping it in the oven before throwing together a salad, putting it in the fridge and preparing rolls to brown once the lasagna was closer to done.
Glancing out the back window as she passed, she was sure she saw a pair of eyes watching her. They were big and yellow - the eyes of a wolf. She looked closer and they were gone.
“Get your shit together, Lucy,” she said aloud.
It was probably just a neighborhood dog, one of the larger ones from an adjoining street. She shook off her unease and helped herself to a glass of the chardonnay she had purchased and sat down on the sofa with her sketch pad and using a photo of Ryan from the Alpha Meets Omega app to begin drawing him. She lay it aside when she heard a knock at the door, opening it to find him standing there with another bottle of wine in his hand and a pastry box.
“I brought wine and dessert, though I doubt it’s as good as whatever I smell cooking in here,” he said as she finished opening the door for him and he stepped in.
“Ooh, chocolate cake. Yummy.”
“It’s store bought. I can’t cook anything more complicated than whatever I can throw on a grill.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious. You want some wine? I’ve already opened a chardonnay to sip while the food cooks.”
“Sounds good. Want me to get it?”
“No. I’ve got it. The food won’t be ready for another twenty minutes or so. Just have a seat on the sofa and I’ll bring it over.”
Ryan did as she said, noting the sketch pad on the table and his likeness on the open page.
“You’re drawing me?”
“Yeah. I haven’t hand sketched in a while. I thought I’d give it a go.”
“It’s really good. I thought you said you were terrible at freehand.”
“I am, except faces. I am really good with drawing those.”