Alpha in a Fur Coat (6 page)

An hour later, Grant was back at his office. The law firm was quiet, with most of the offices completely dark. Here and there, light from an associate’s office spilled out into the hallway. There were always a couple people here pulling an all-nighter to meet some sort of impossible deadline. Grant would blend in nicely, looking like just another overworked attorney.

He slipped into his office, and fired up his computer. He quickly navigated to the files about the Hook Labs case. These files were considered so top secret that the law firm didn’t even want them worked on remotely. Grant had been forced to actually come in to the office to take photos of them. He worked quickly, but it still took the better part of an hour to get all the photos he needed. As soon as he was done taking the pictures, he slipped out of his office building as quietly as he had come. Once he was in his hovercar, he ordered his computer to head to the south side of Chicago. He knew of a lab there that would print photos in an hour, for a hefty fee. These days, finding anyone to print photos was difficult and expensive. Paper wasn’t manufactured much anymore, so the little bit that was available cost a great deal. There were a few places that would print plain black and white paper documents quickly, but that didn’t help Grants since the only way he’d been able to get the top secret files from the law firm was to take actual pictures of them. And getting pictures printed in an hour? Impossible, unless you had connections.

Oddly enough, Grant had connections. He had volunteered to work
pro bono
on a criminal case last year, defending a man who had been wrongly accused of murder. The man had been a gang member and drug dealer—but not a murderer. It had been an interesting case, to say the least. In the process of helping the man clear his name of murder charges, Grant had learned more than he ever wanted to know about the underground world of Chicago’s gang-filled neighborhoods. One of the things that had surprised him was the existence of photo and paper-printing shops that would do rush jobs. The fees were high, but if you wanted a photo reliably printed in less than a week’s time, it was your only option. Besides, the drug dealers didn’t bat an eye at the exorbitant fees.

Neither, it seemed, did a shifter who was on a mission to get out of town.

Grant glanced around uneasily as his hovercar landed in front of the dark building. He stood out like a sore thumb here. Aside from the rich drug lords, the population of this neighborhood lived in abject poverty. Not too many hovercars were even around, let alone a hovercar as new and fancy as Grant’s. Instead, older models of self-driving cars littered the streets. Many of them looked like they were on their last leg.

Grant stepped out of his hovercar and did his best to exude an air of confidence. He wasn’t really scared for his life. After all, if worst came to worst, he could always shift into bear form and easily take out anyone who tried to attack him. But he didn’t want that kind of attention right now, if he could avoid it. He just wanted to get his photos and get out of there.

The bells above the door jangled as Grant walked into the dark store. Several pairs of cold eyes rose to look at him from the men sitting behind the counter. Smoke hung heavy in the air as the men puffed on giant, cheap cigars. Several glasses of whiskey sat on the countertop in front of them.

Grant squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, hoping that the owner of the shop, Ralph would be here. Ralph had been a star witness in the murder case Grant had worked on, so Grant had spent quite a bit of time with him in court. Ralph wasn’t sitting out front with the men, but moments later he appeared from the back room.

“Did Jimmy finally show up with those beers? I swear Jimmy you’re getting on my last nerves these days.”

Ralph stopped talking abruptly when he saw that the newcomer wasn’t Jimmy at all. His expression went from jovial to wary when he saw Grant.

“Mr. Ray,” he said cautiously. “What are you doing around these parts?”

“You know this guy?” one of the men behind the counter asked, letting out a long puff of cigar soke.

“Call me Grant, please,” Grant said. “And yes, I know Ralph. We worked together.”

“Yeah,” Ralph said. “Grant’s the one who got Curtis off when they tried to stick that murder on him last year. I don’t like lawyers, but Grant’s alright. What are you doing out here, though? Is someone else in trouble?”

“Well, yeah. You could say I’m in trouble,” Grant said. “I need some photos printed. As soon as possible.”

Ralph raised an eyebrow. “Normally I don’t work for anyone outside the neighborhood.”

“I know,” Grant said. “But I really need your help. I’ll pay full price. I’m not asking for any kind of special deal. I just need to get this done.”

There was a long pause as Ralph looked Grant up and down. “Alright. I’ll print them for you. But only because of how you helped Curtis out. And you’re paying full price.”

Grant nodded and reached in his pocket to pull out the portable data drive that held all the document photos. “Here you go. Thanks buddy.”

Ralph took the drive and stuck it into an old computer sitting on the counter. Blue light from the computer screen filled the smoky room as the computer roared to life, and Ralph’s eyes moved right to left rapidly as he scanned the files on the disk.

“Which ones do you want printed, brother?” Ralph asked, looking up at Grant.

“All of them.”

“All of them? There are hundreds of photos on here. It’s gonna cost you as much as house to print all of those,” Ralph said, looking Grant up and down again, as if wondering how much money lawyers made, exactly.

“I don’t care, Ralph. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay. Just print them all.”

Ralph shrugged and nodded, then pulled the data drive out of the computer. “Alright. If that’s what you want. It might take slightly more than an hour, though. That’s a lot of photos to print.”

Grant nodded. “Just do your best to get them done as quickly as possible.”

Ralph nodded again, then gestured toward a ratty old armchair. “Make yourself comfortable. You want a whiskey?”

“No thanks, I need to do some work. But I’ll take a coke, if you have one?”

Ralph reached underneath the counter, where he must have had some sort of mini-refrigerator. He tossed a coke over to Grant, who caught it and went to sit in the armchair. Ralph disappeared into the back room again, and the rest of the men ignored Grant. That was fine by Grant. He wanted to work on cracking the code from the documents Storm had stolen from the mayor’s office. He pulled out his tablet and lost himself in his work, even forgetting that he was sitting in a smoky shop in the middle of a not-so-safe neighborhood.

Sixty minutes flew by, and Grant was beginning to get frustrated. But just about the time he was getting ready to hurl his tablet across the room, he noticed a pattern in the encrypted text that he hadn’t seen before.

“This might be it,” he said aloud to himself. He entered the potential code rules as guidelines, and ordered his computer to translate one of the documents. His heart kept pounding faster and faster as he waited to see if the resulting translation would make sense. Moments later, words started unscrambling on his screen right before his eyes.

He had done it! He’d cracked the code.

“Yup, I’ve still got it,” Grant proudly said to himself, wishing there was someone there to brag to who would actually care. He glanced at the time. It was well after midnight by this point. Too late to text Storm and tell her he’d finally been able to translate the documents. He’d have to wait until tomorrow. Grant looked around the room, wondering how much longer it would be until his photos were done. He wanted to get going and go home to catch some sleep, but he didn’t want to push Ralph. Grant didn’t know of anyone else in Chicago who would reliably make photos for him this quickly.

Grant decided the best use of his time would be to keep translating the documents from the Mayor’s office. He input more code and ordered his computer to translate all of the files. The tablet whirred as it worked, and about a minute later the screen started populating with the translated documents.

Grant started reading through them, and it only took a few minutes of reading for him to suddenly sit up straighter with a pounding heart. His body filled with adrenaline as he realized that the documents contained a careful, week-long plan to stir up chaos and fear of shifters within the city of Chicago. The whole thing would start with an announcement by the Mayor at an “emergency” press conference. The Mayor would tell the press that shifters existed and show video and photo evidence. Then the Mayor would put the whole city on lockdown for everyone’s “safety.” No one in or out.

According to the document, that press conference was scheduled for noontime the next day, which was less than twelve hours from now.

“Holy shit,” Grant said under his breath. “We have to get out of the city now, or it’s going to be too late.”

Grant kept reading the carefully planned out schedule. The Mayor would announce shifter attacks the next day to stir up more fear and chaos. He would plead with the President to help. People posing as civilians would stir up riots. Basically, all hell would break loose. Just as things got out of control, the Mayor would announce the “miracle” eye scanners that could detect shifters. The President would visit and endorse the capture and containment of the dangerous shifters.

Chicagoans would see the Mayor and President as their saviors, which would solidify their power. Grant sat completely still for a moment, staring at his screen in disbelief. Obviously, he had known the day was coming when he would have to escape Chicago. He was here at this photo shop preparing for that day. But he hadn’t expected that day to be tomorrow. Well, technically, the day was today, if you considered that it was already after midnight.

He had to worn his friends. They needed to get out of the city
now
. Leaving under cover of darkness was a much better option. To get to Drew’s cabin in Michigan, they’d have to fly their hovercars over Lake Michigan. This was illegal, so it was bound to attract attention. Grant knew how to temporarily scramble the electronic identification codes on his hovercraft so that a computer couldn’t recognize who he was from a distance. If the Fur Coats could fly out in darkness, there was a good chance no one would be able to tell it was them leaving. If any police hover tried to chase them, the police hover wouldn’t be able to get a good visual on them. And Grant was confident that he could outfly the Chicago police. Those boys spent all their time in the city, so they weren’t used to the high speeds of open flying across a giant lake. Grant, on the other hand, had first learned to fly a hovercar in Alaska, where wide open spaces were the rule rather than the exception.

“Your photos are ready, buddy,” Ralph said, breaking into Grant’s thoughts. Grant looked up to see a small box land on the counter with a thud as Ralph set it down. Without a word, Grant went to the counter and placed his fingerprint on the tablet that Ralph offered with the payment details on it. The price for this box of photos was over one hundred thousand dollars. Grant had that much money in savings—he’d been squirreling it away for a house. But what good would a house do him now? Odds were good that his days in Chicago were over forever.

Grant nodded his thanks to Ralph, then picked up the box and started walking toward the door of the small shop. Before leaving, he stopped and turned around to look at the men sitting around the counter, still drinking and smoking, and looking like they had no plans to stop any time soon.

“Guys, listen. I can’t explain everything right now, but there’s a lot of chaos coming to the city tomorrow afternoon. Keep your wives and kids inside tomorrow. And go first thing in the morning to stock up on bottled water and nonperishable food. Trust me. Do it in the morning. The afternoon might be too late.”

The men stared back at him warily, but Ralph slowly nodded his head. “Will do, Grant. Thanks for the heads up.”

Grant nodded, and then left the shop. He climbed into his hovercar and ordered it take him home. Then he started making some phone calls. Time to tell the Fur Coats that they’d better get packing.

He tried Storm first, but she didn’t answer. So he moved on to his best friend Jack. He’d try Storm again in a few minutes, and hope he could manage to wake her up then.

“Hello? Grant?” Jack’s sleepy voice came on the line.

“Jack , buddy. Get up. And wake Silver up if she’s with you.”

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, his voice sounding slightly more awake and filling with concern.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Grant said. “We fly tonight.”

“Call from, Silver Rowe. Call from Silver Rowe.”

Storm slowly came out of her dream-filled daze, and realized that the computer’s voice hadn’t just been in her dreams. Her best friend Silver was actually calling her, which didn’t make sense because it was still dark out. What time was it, anyway? Storm rolled over and looked at the soft blue light of the electronic time display on her nightstand. 2:12 a.m.

Storm suddenly sat up straight in bed, the fog of sleep disappearing quickly. Silver was calling her at two in the morning? That meant something was wrong.

“Answer call!” Storm yelled out. But it was too late. The call had already gone to voicemail.

“Storm, wake up! We’ve all been trying to call you for the last hour. We have to get out of the city tonight. Wake up and pack your shit!”

The voicemail ended with a sharp beep, and Storm bounded out of bed, confused and disoriented. She headed to the computer screen embedded into her wall, which automatically synced with her phone no matter where in the condo the phone was located. Storm swiped at the screen, and saw that she had seventeen missed calls. Grant, Jack, Bash, Juno and Silver had all been calling her.

“What the hell? How did I sleep through all of that?” Storm asked aloud. She had been exhausted after the day she’d had yesterday, but had she really been tired enough to sleep through seventeen phone calls?

Just as Storm was about to order the computer to call Silver back, the computer connected to her front door spoke up.

“You have a visitor, Storm. Grant Ray is here. Permit access?”

Storm frowned. “Permit access,” she said, then started heading for the front door, forgetting that she was wearing only short pajama shorts and a sleep camisole with no bra underneath. She only realized how revealing her outfit was when Grant stepped through her front door and couldn’t keep his eyes from sliding down to where her nipples were poking through her shirt.

“Oh, uh, I just woke up,” Storm said, her cheeks turning red as she reached for the first jacket she could grab in the coat closet and threw it on to cover her skimpy pajamas. Of course, the jacket was a thick down coat, intended for the coldest of winter days. Tonight was an unusually warm late summer night. It only took a few moments for Storm to start sweating inside the jacket, but she refused to take it off. Instead she stubbornly looked up at Grant, who seemed unsure of how to react to her sudden outfit addition.

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” he said. Then he quickly recovered his composure. “Storm, we have to go.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on? I just woke up to Silver calling me, and when I went to call her back I realized I have seventeen missed calls from all of you.”

“I decoded the documents from the Mayor’s office. It’s literally a step-by-step schedule of how to stir up chaos and hatred of shifters within the city. Part of the plan is to put the entire city under lockdown after an emergency press conference tomorrow at noon. If we want to get out of the city without having to deal with no-fly zones and carefully watching police hovers, we have to go now.”

“They’re announcing the scanners tomorrow?” Storm asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, tomorrow they’re announcing that shifters exist. Then a day or two later they’re announcing the shifter-detecting scanners. But the main point is that if we want to leave quietly and under the cover of darkness, now is the time to do it. Juno is on her way over here to ride with us. And Bash is heading to Jack and Silver’s to pick them up.”

“I…I’m not even packed yet,” Storm said. She looked around the room, as though trying to decide if there was anything in here that she needed to take with her.

“Then pack now. As quickly as you can. Just clothes and other basics. And anything that’s sentimentally priceless to you. Odds are these condos won’t be here when or if we make it back. And no electronics of any kind. The phone and tablet and all that stay here. In fact, it’s better if you destroy them, just so none of the information on them ends up in the wrong hands.”

Storm blinked at Grant, trying to take in everything he had just told her. “You’re serious? We’re leaving tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. In about fifteen minutes, if you can manage to pack that quickly.”

“The mayor’s office is going to be suspicious when I don’t show up to work tomorrow.”

“Screw them. Storm, come on. Get moving. This isn’t a drill. We have to leave, now.”

Storm jumped a bit at the sharp tone in Grant’s voice, but his words did the trick. This was really happening. She was really about to leave everything behind and head off into the wilderness with no idea what the future was going to bring.

“Okay. I just need a few minutes,” she said. She ran back to her bedroom and got rid of the huge coat she was wearing, then changed into a normal outfit of jeans and a t-shirt—complete with a bra, thank you very much. She hated the way she sort of liked it that Grant had been staring at her nipples. But she couldn’t think about him right now. She had to get a bag packed. Storm went to her bedroom closet and grabbed a small duffel bag. She started throwing clothes and toiletries into the bag, trying to stick to the bare minimum. After she had put a few outfits into the bag, she glanced around her closet and saw a small box on the shelf above her. The box, which was decorated with pink glitter, was something she’d had since she was a little girl. She used it to hold onto the few possessions she owned that had sentimental value to her.

Storm reached for that box and opened it, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a worn-out stuffed wolf. Her dad had given her that wolf for her fourth birthday, and she had carried it around constantly as a little girl. Storm quickly threw it into her duffel bag, not caring if anyone thought it was stupid to bring a stuffed animal with her when the world was ending. That wolf was a little piece of her father. It connected her to him. Right underneath the wolf there had been a family photo. Actual printed photos were so rare and expensive these days, and this photo had always been one of Storm’s favorites. She threw the photo into her duffel bag alongside her stuffed wolf and mess of clothes.

When she walked back out to the living room, Grant was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Storm might have laughed. He looked like such a typical alpha. He hated it when people identified him as an alpha bear, but his alpha genes were easy to spot. Especially in times of stress or danger. His protective instincts went into high gear, and he wanted to tear to shreds anyone or anything that seemed remotely like a threat to himself or to those he cared about.

“I’m ready,” Storm said, setting her duffel bag down on the couch and going to grab a pair of sneakers from a shoe rack by the front door. “Just need to get my shoes on.”

“What about your phone and tablet? Or any other computers that might have identifying data on them? We should destroy those. I can help you with that.”

Storm nodded, and went to the dining room, where she had left her phone and tablet the night before. “Here, have fun,” she said, tossing the devices to Grant. He caught them and grinned, then dropped them onto the floor. As Storm started lacing up her shoes, Grant made several powerful, high jumps and landed with loud thuds on top of the phone and tablet. The screens on the devices quickly shattered, and after a few more jumps, the weight of Grant’s heavy, muscular body had reduced the rest of the tablet and phone into molecular-sized bits.

“There’s also the main computer hub for the condo,” Storm said, standing and motioning Grant to the dining room. In the dining room, Storm walked up to a seemingly normal wall and placed her open palm flat against it. Five lights lit up and five beeps sounded off as the hidden fingerprint sensor in the wall identified each of Storm’s fingers.

“Welcome back, Storm,” the computer cheerily called out. A panel in the wall slid open, revealing a large computer.

“All yours,” Storm said.

Grant nodded, then looked around for a moment deciding what he should do. He grabbed one of Storm’s dining room chairs, and walked back over to the computer hub. With a loud grunt, he lifted the thick wooden chair over his head before bringing it down hard on the computer hub. The computer started sounding a warning, but even that warning stopped as Grant rammed the chair into the computer over and over. It didn’t take long until the computer was just a pile of debris, and Storm nodded sadly.

“Such a waste,” she said. “I didn’t even get a chance to back up my files. But there’s nothing super important on there. The only thing I really care about is my collection of family photos, but I have an online backup of that.”

“Good,” Grant said. “Because if there was anything on those computers that’s not backed up somewhere else, it’s gone for good now.”

Before Storm could reply, she heard a loud knocking at her door.

“Storm? Storm It’s Juno. Are you in there? Your front door computer doesn’t seem to be working.”

Storm chuckled and glanced over at Grant. “Yup. You definitely ruined my computers.”

Grant grinned and then grabbed Storm’s duffel bag from her, swinging it easily over his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Storm opened the door, then quickly explained to Juno that her computer had already been destroyed and that they were ready to go. By the time the group of three got outside and to the spot where Grant’s hovercar was parked, Bash had arrived in his hovercar. Jack and Silver were with him.

They all jumped out and started talking at once, until Grant hushed them. “Guys, come on. Keep it down. It’s almost three in the morning and you’re going to wake people up with all this racket. The last thing we need is some cops showing up or something because someone couldn’t sleep thanks to you.

Everyone quieted down, and Grant started speaking again, quieter this time. “Alright, everyone. Give me a few minutes to scramble the electronic signals on both of these hovercars. This is difficult to do, so you all really need to be quiet and let me concentrate. I can only temporarily scramble them, so we’ll have a window of about four hours where these hovers will be basically invisible electronically. We need to get moving as soon as the signals are scrambled. Our goal is to get to Drew’s and then destroy these vehicles completely before they become visible to other computers again.”

“How will we destroy them?” Juno asked.

Grant chuckled and shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I have a feeling Drew will have some ideas. That boy seems like the type who is good at blowing stuff up.”

Storm smiled and laughed with the others, then fell silent as Grant went to work on the hovercars. He pulled the front dashpanel off and started fiddling with the actual computer chips in the dashboard, which surprised Storm. For a boring old lawyer, Grant had some pretty interesting talents. Then again, he had always been curious about how things worked. He’d probably picked up quite a few useful tidbits of information over the years.

Storm let out a soft sigh as Grant replaced the dashboard of the first hovercar, then stepped out and gave the group a grin and a thumbs up before moving to the second hovercar. The streetlights lit up his muscular frame with yellow light, and his eyes sparkled with excitement at the task in front of him. Even though the situation was less than ideal, he was excited about the chance to put his electronic scrambling skills to good use.

After removing the dashboard in the second hovercar, Grant started messing with the wiring and chips in there, too. He input some sort of code into the main computer, which caused a loud warning beep to sound off. Storm jumped, startled by the noise. Grant let out a string of curses.

“Wrong code,” he said, then let out another string of curses before going back to work. A few minutes later, he seemed to have figured out the problem. He let out a low whoop, and then replaced the dashboard triumphantly.

“Alright, crew,” he said. “We’re ready to rock and roll.”

Storm didn’t even try to fight the feeling of electric excitement that washed over her as she watched Grant fist pump the air. There was no use pretending that his strong, brawny body didn’t turn on her. She could look, right?

“Bash, you take Jack and Silver. Juno and Storm, you come with me,” Grant said.

Storm almost protested that she wanted to ride with Silver, her best friend, but then she decided against it and clamped her mouth shut. Did she want to ride with Silver, really? Or would she rather ride with Grant so she could continue to gaze at his perfect body? The ride was going to be a long one, after all. She might as well do what she could to make it more interesting.

As she moved toward Grant’s hovercar to climb in, she heard a loud shout.

“Storm? Storm Williams?”

Startled, she turned around to see two large men dressed in all black running toward her. They were carrying large guns that looked like they belonged on a battlefield, not on a quiet street in Chicago. Storm’s eyes widened as the men swiftly came closer, holding their guns in the air.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” was all she could manage to say.

The men didn’t answer. One of them raised his gun high and brought the butt of it down hard on Storm’s head. Grant and Bash both let out angry roars as she fell to the ground from the force of the blow.

Then her head hit the pavement and everything went black.